The ninth month has arrived, and with it comes chilly days and hot tea.  An uncomfortable nip steals around my toes, but there is still enough warmth left to make one remember summer in its glory, before the cold came and the leaves on the trees began to droop.  All around me there is a silence, as if nature holds its breath, waiting to see what winter will do to the beautiful landscape.

Though I mourn the passing of summer, I raise my eyes to the clouds glowing in the west and remember that all is not lost.  There will be days when I will not be able to bear the barren cold, but there will be other days when the sun shines on the mountain peaks, and there will be rumors of spring. 

Summer will come again.  But for the time, I must be patient, waiting hopefully for the day when the warm winds will return. 

Copyright 2008 by Cherise A. You must ask me before using any of my stuff, and my name must appear along with the poem or post if you reproduce it.

Creativity has its downsides.

I have been trying to write in a more…inspired manner, if you get my meaning.  For the past few months I have been dragging my muse through the mud, and my muse hasn’t liked that.  But now I have been trying to get my muse used to a new idea: letting her pull me around, instead of me having to pull her around. 

I think she liked the idea. 

As a result of giving my muse freedom, she has leapt off at a gallop and plunged into a half-dozen different stories besides The Prophet of Einehrowaye.  I have barely gotten a week’s worth of writing on POE in a two-week time span.  It’s embarrassing. 

Now, since my muse is knocking me on the head telling me that I need to tell you all about her fabulous stories, here are a few summaries:

The Meadow of Moss – A freak weather occurrence leaves a group of campers stranded in the mountains.  When a stranger comes and says that he knows a way out, everyone follows him.  But as the paths they take become more and more strange, the campers begin to wonder if the man is really who he says he is.  Only a brave few will take the final step and follow him into a paradise none of them could have imagined.

Seh-Ryal – Wyreya and Lloyden are two ordinary teenagers who live alone on a farm far removed from any village.  When inhuman creatures break in and destroy their peaceful life, the two are forced to discover their dangerous heritage.

Shorn: The Second Dawn – Laezwyn was merely an orphan before the armies of Lornathix came and burned her village.  But now she has lost everything to the fire, including her long auburn hair.  She is not ready for the discovery that she is the only heir of the Firedancer Queen.  How will she be able to continue her family’s legacy as Fire Dancers if she cannot get past her fear of the element that destroyed her life?

Forgive me for being overdramatic: I couldn’t help myself.  Please tell me which one you think sounds more interesting!  I will be posting bits of these stories on my story blog sometime soon, so keep checking back!  I also encourage you to read Part 4 of the 2^nd Chapter of The Prophet of Einehrowaye, which I recently posted.  I hope you have a blessed day!

Ze Poetess

Copyright 2008 by Cherise A. You must ask me before using any of my stuff, and my name must appear along with the poem or post if you reproduce it.

It’s a situation most writers are faced with at some point: you’re sitting at your desk with your completed manuscript in your hand, and the latest edition of Writer’s Market sitting in front of you.  As you flip through the pages of the enormous book on your desk and read the lists of publishers, you wonder if there’s any hope at all for the literary piece you have just created.  Does anyone care that you’ve poured your heart and soul into this project?  Does anyone even respect your originality?  How on earth are you going to wade through the intricate processes of getting published without getting dumped in the slush pile, or worse? 

Such was my state a few days ago.  My book isn’t finished, of course, but I decided I might as well check out the 2009 edition of Writer’s Market, just to get a taste of the publishing world before I am thrust out into it. 

The taste of the publishing world has been enlightening.  And terrifying.  And discouraging.  It seems all anyone wants these days is the same old sensational junk that has been floating around for years, albeit with a different packaging.  Most of the comments from the editors of these big publishing companies said something this: “We are looking for new and inventive stories with the same feel as [Insert name of bestseller].”  Someone should tell them that stories that are very similar to best-selling books are not new and inventive. 

Publishing experts will usually tell you that you should study the market before you start writing to see what people are looking for, so that you can fulfill that need and make lots of money.  The two problems with this approach are:

a)     How fast do they think you’ll be able to write?  The market can change overnight, and there’s a good chance it will do so before you finish writing ‘the perfect book that all the publishers will want, and that everyone will want to read’. 

b)     True genius can’t be categorized.  Studying the market before you come up with a story idea is the fastest way to insure that you will write unoriginal, plagiarized junk.  Publishers are usually looking for stuff that is very similar to the original ‘big hits’ and that will sell a lot of copies very quickly.  Most of them don’t really care if you are the next Tolkien.  A book that breaks out of their little boxes usually doesn’t sell very well immediately, so they don’t want it. 

Please, don’t listen to the publishing experts.  Real writing isn’t about the money or the fame: it is about producing a work of art that will impact people’s lives.  Write what you want to write, and write what you think is right. 

As for me, I know that my book doesn’t fit into one particular category, and it is certainly not at all mainstream.  I do worry about getting published.  I do worry that no one will ever read what I have poured so much of my life into creating. 

But worry is not from God.  I have heard it said that the phrase ‘Do not fear’ is written at least 365 times in the Bible.  I don’t know about you, but I think that means that God doesn’t want us to fear or worry about anything. 

I believe that if God wants me to write this book (I believe He does), and if He wants other people to read it (I believe He does), then He will get my book published, and all the publishers in the world can’t stand in His way.  I just have to be obedient and write, and He will do the rest.  I don’t have to worry about it, because worrying is not going to help the process one bit. 

Keep writing the best that you can, and do not stress about publishing.  Trust God to take care of you and your book, for His plans are always the best plans possible. 

Copyright 2008 by Cherise A. M. You must ask me before using any of my stuff, and my name must appear along with the poem or post if you reproduce it.

I reached 26,000 words (50 pages) on my story last week, and that’s when I realized something.

For the past several weeks, I have been focusing mostly on word count, and as a result most of the stuff I wrote during those weeks is, basically, junk. 

And, since I have imprisoned my inner editor in the dungeon and don’t intend to let her out until the first draft is done, that means I need to rewrite a lot of my story. 

I sat down with my laptop on Saturday to try and write some more (since I wanted to keep up with you other writers as far as word count goes).  I really did not feel like writing, and I decided to plug in my Enya CD to inspire me to write. 

The Enya did not work like I had intended it to.  Instead of writing furiously, I sat there motionless for a half hour, listening and staring out the window.  I let the music float through my brain as I saw visions of my main characters, and I realized the opportunities I have missed with the story.  The themes that should take center stage have been pushed to the back burner, remaining only to act as ‘extra features’.  Themes such as love, trust, faith and commitment.  Do those themes sound like they should act only as ‘special features’? 

I have been churning out thousands of words, but no content.  I have been suffering through these past weeks, wondering if writing a book is supposed to feel so lifeless.  But as I look back, I realize that it felt so lifeless because I had lost the vision for my book.  I have been clinging selfishly to the things I wanted in my story, and not looking at what it could be if I let go of those things.  The events have been the main focus of the story instead of the character’s spiritual journeys.  This could be a great book, or it could be merely publishable.  (I have read books that should have never gone into print, and I can say that the fact that a book is published does not give much indication as to the quality of the book.) 

After a weekend of reflecting, I have decided to make many changes to the plot of my story.  However, I feel that the biggest change is the change in the focus of the book.  Many of the scenes will remain the same, however, the emphasis - the main theme of the book - will be stronger.  Basically, I will strive to never forget, and to remain committed to, the vision God has given me for this book. 

I want to let you know that I am changing the title of the book from The Poet of Aenywroe to The Prophet of Aenywroe.   I figured I should probably have a title that actually fits what the book is about, and the story is definitely not about a poet. 

I have to start over with many parts of the book, but I am actually excited about it.  The break from writing that I took over the weekend has restored my passion for this book, and now I can’t wait to get the plot sketch straightened out so that I can get back to writing.  I used to gasp whenever an author in a movie crumpled up a page and threw it in the trash can, but now I understand that sometimes you just need to do it all again, and that the rewriting can be exciting.

I will be updating you on the progress of the book!  God bless you all!   

Copyright 2008 by Cherise A.  You must ask me before using any of my stuff, and my name must appear along with the poem or post if you reproduce it.

          This post is in response to an issue that has been floating around HSB recently: is The Lord of the Rings occult?  This controversy began with an article written by a former witch turned Christian who denounced Tolkien’s work as the occult in disguise.  Jocelyn Dixon of A Pondering Heart wrote a post in which she sides with the original article, saying that it convicted her of putting LOTR (Lord of the Rings) before God.  Altariel has already written a post coming from the other side of the issue, and arguing that LOTR is ok.  I mostly agree with Altariel, but I have a few things to add.

            First of all, I want to say that I am a LOTR fan and have been for several years, ever since I read the books.  I am, however, not a ‘sold-out’ fan (meaning: my knowledge of elvish is limited to two or three words, and, though I did read the Silmarillion, I don’t remember all the details from it) so I won’t fight for Tolkien “‘till the very end”.  Just to let you know, I still am biased, but perhaps not as much as some.

            In the original article it was asserted that LOTR inspired many occult things such as Dungeons and Dragons, implying that LOTR itself must be bad.  This is faulty reasoning, for if you apply the same argument to other things, it does not come out correctly.  For example, if you looked at gays and lesbians and, because their sinful behavior is inspired by a natural inclination to romance, you decide that romance is bad.  This is not true.  God created romance and proclaimed that it was good.  But, like most good things, it has been twisted and distorted, and the distortion is evil.  There is no good thing that cannot be distorted.  I talked about this recently in another post, to which the link is here.  And as Altariel pointed out, many cults claim the Bible as their inspiration.  Should we take that to mean that the Bible is bad?

            About the wizardry and magic in LOTR, I do not think that it is as bad as portrayed.  On the surface it appears that Gandalf is not much different from the evil wizards, but the Silmarillion outlines very clearly that Gandalf was an incarnated angel with a vast amount of power that he chose not to use.  The times he did use it were not examples of magic but, if you will, miniature miracles.  After all, there are instances of the Bible of angels doing things that defied the laws of nature, but those occurrences are never called magic.  However, I do blame Tolkien for not making this point clearer in The Lord of the Rings itself.  If one is going to talk about something that could be interpreted wrongly, one shouldn’t hide one’s real meaning in another source. 

            These points aside, I do have some problems with Tolkien’s writing.  The Valar behave less like archangels and more like gods and goddesses, and in some instances it seems as if they are revered as such.  There is a creation story at the beginning of the Silmarillion, but I do not think that is sufficient explanation for the high status Tolkien gives his Valar.  It is almost as if they stand on their own instead of giving glory to God, so I think in this area Tolkien erred on the wrong side.  I don’t see this as a complete error (he tried to make it right), but some of the themes surrounding this subject are not wholly good.

            I feel that in some ways LOTR is neutral; many have looked at it and gained valuable lessons, while some have looked at it and, seeing only the evil, have gone down dark paths.  In situations such as these I think that Satan plays upon people’s love of one thing to make them accept something that seems similar.  In some ways Harry Potter and LOTR are ‘similar’; they both have things called ‘wizards’ and ‘magic’.  But when it comes down it, those things have very different definitions depending on which book you are reading.  That is the trouble with fantasy.  The path can go downhill very quickly if you don’t keep your wits about you at all times.

            Basically, as I see it, this issue comes down to two things.  The first is a principle in the New Testament that my mom refers to as ‘meat sacrificed to idols’.  Here are the passages in 1 Corinthians that talk about it:

            “But not everyone knows this.  Some people are still so accustomed to idols that when they eat such food they think of it as having been sacrificed to an idol, and since their conscience is week, it is defiled.  But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do.

            “Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak.  For if anyone with a weak conscience sees you who have this knowledge eating in an idol’s temple, won’t he be emboldened to eat was has been sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge.  When you sin against your brothers in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ.  Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother to fall into sin I will never eat mean again, so that I will not cause him to fall.” – 1 Corinthians 8: 7 - 13

“‘Everything is permissible’ – but not everything is beneficial.  ‘Everything is permissible’ – but not everything is constructive.” – 1 Corinthians 10: 23

“But if anyone says to you, “This has been offered in sacrifice,” then do not eat it, both for the sake of the man who told you and for conscience’ sake – The other man’s conscience, I mean, not yours.  For why should my freedom be judged by another’s conscience?  If I take part in the meal with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of something I thank God for?

            “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.  Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God – even as I try to please everybody in every way.  For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they man be saved.” – 1 Corinthians 10: 28 – 33

            The basic principle illustrated here is that some Christians can do some things that are borderline without going against their conscience, so they do not sin by doing them.  However, other Christians have weak consciences and cannot do those same activities without falling into sin.  Some will read fantasy and be tempted to go into the occult, and some will not be tempted.  Some read of centaurs and wizards and see only the occult, while others have the issue clearly settled in their minds and see only the light and the beauty of the point the author was trying to make.  It would be better for the person who has a weaker conscience to refrain from reading than to be tempted.  However, that does not mean that we should judge others for what they are able to handle.  I believe that LOTR is not blatantly occult, so it is ok for Christians to make up their minds on the subject. 

            While I do not completely agree with the man who wrote the original article, I do believe that LOTR has been a stumbling block for many Christians (teens especially) because it has become an obsession.  All obsessions, save an obsession with God, are BAD because they put something before God.  He must be the first and the only thing we cling to.  Anything else merely stands in the way.  Philippians 3:8 says, “What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.  I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ.”  Anything that tempts us to take our focus off of God merely stands in our way.  Wouldn’t it be better to let go completely of something temporal you are obsessed with than to keep holding on to it and continually struggle?  What is LOTR anyway?  It is a book that at moments contains truth, but it is temporal and shall pass away.  Only the truth it illustrates will remain.  It is nothing compared with truly knowing Christ.  If it does you good, keep it; but if it only hinders you, than let go of it.  It seems hard now to let go, but once you have done it you will never regret it.  For this reason I applaud Jocelyn Dixon in her decision to remove LOTR from her life, so that she won’t be tempted by it any more.

            The issue of occult appearances in Narnia is something I still wrestle with from time to time.  The books have really helped me in my relationship with God, but I wonder if C. S. Lewis couldn’t have found other creatures with which to people his world.  If he and Tolkien had known what problems parts of their writing would cause later on, I am sure they would have taken back every word they ever wrote on those controversial issues.  When I look at who the authors really were, I see that they could never have meant to make people stumble.  They were trying to create something beautiful, and they included in their writing things that they thought beautiful that didn’t make them stumble, not realizing that others would view those same things as links to the occult. 

            This decision requires more thought and prayer, and I hope that as you search you will be able to judge what is best for you.  I am not thoroughly settled on the issue, and I am open to any thoughts you have.  Please tell me what you think!  God bless you all in your journey!

Dear me, it has been a long time since I had a real post: you know, one where I actually say what I think.  The reason, of course, is that I haven’t been doing very much thinking recently.  Just kidding!

As most of you know, I have started writing a story and posting it on my story blog, Fountain Pen.  This is the first time in a long while that I have seriously attempted to write a story.  I made some other tries at producing a story long ago, but only two out of all of those lasted more than three pages.  Anyhow, after I lost steam on the second story, I decided that – since writing wasn’t going very well – I should take a little break from it.  As the sabbatical stretched out longer and longer, I decided that poetry was my real forte and that I shouldn’t go back to story writing.

However, I made that decision before I joined HSB.

I had thought about getting a blog before, but I finally decided that I really, really wanted one.  I learned about HSB through an adult friend who was (and still is) thinking about getting a blog on here, and I decided to check it out.  As I was hitting the random blog button, I came upon writer4him’s blog, where she had just posted the second chapter of her excellent story, The Blade Unbroken.  I was hooked, and also amazed that she could write so well.  (At first I thought she was twenty, instead of fifteen!)  As I got my blog and began to meet other bloggers, I realized that a lot of people my age were writing their own novels.  I found it surprising that so many were willing to take a big leap and just start writing.  Before long, thoughts started running through my head like, ‘I think I could write well like they can’, and, ‘if they can do it, so can I’. 

         My own novel began like many others have: with one insane person hijacking a computer and deciding to start writing a random descriptive paragraph about a guy lying by the side of the road.  (Hey, didn’t Tolkien write the first sentence of The Hobbit on the back of some student’s term paper?)  I found that I had a moment alone with the laptop after school, and I was bored.  What better things did I have to do?  I decided to make the paragraph sound like it was the beginning of a book, just for fun.  I had no long-term plan or anything because, well, I was just messing around. 

I got to the third paragraph about this guy, and I realized that the story sounded kind of interesting.  “Hmmm - wouldn’t it be neat if…”

I decided to switch tracks and talk for a while about the princess that this guy was going to meet, before she meets him.  I must have gotten a little carried away, because I wrote two whole pages about her before I finally ran out of steam and decided to stop. 

You must realize that I still had no plan for what I had written beyond the part where the strange man in the ditch and the princess met.  This was a dead-end story, one that wouldn’t go any farther, and I knew it.  Oh, I might toy with the idea of writing more of it, but in reality I never would.

I don’t know quite how it happened, but I found myself in the weeks after that trying to figure out a plot to belong to the story I had started, and otherwise getting attached to what I had written.  Surely I couldn’t let those paragraphs drift into oblivion? 

So, rather against my will (planning is not my strong point), I started writing a plot outline.  It was still just for fun, because I wouldn’t stand to raise my hopes too high and have them dashed one more time.  Planning was rather difficult, and at several points I thought I would have to ditch the whole thing.  But surprisingly, it all came together at the end, and I decided to really start writing. 

I don’t write the chapters consecutively, but instead I do a lot of skipping around.  When I feel bored I just pick a random spot in the plot and start writing.  It works well, since I have that sort of personality that loves to start things but gets bored really quickly and never finishes things.  This way there’s always something new. 

Ever since I started really writing I noticed a change in myself.  Usually I’m serious and don’t say much, but recently I’ve been happy and bubbly and talkative.  I don’t know, it feels like somehow the floodgates have been opened.  Writing poetry never had the same effect on me that writing fiction does.  It’s almost like writing poetry mostly expresses emotion, so you don’t feel the need to talk to other people about what you feel; but writing something in a story form doesn’t express all the emotion, so you want to tell someone about it.  Or perhaps writing a story just puts you in the mood to talk.  I don’t know. 

But the funny thing is that now that I’ve started writing stories again, I get story ideas popping up all over the place!  I almost have a line waiting.  Most of them are stories, but some of them are ideas for the next novel attempt.  Which reminds me, I am definitely planning on doing NaNoWriMo when it comes around again in November.  I know that writer4him did it last year, but is there anyone else who also did it?  What was it like?  Is there anyone who is doing it this November?  (I don’t want to be alone!)

And another question for those of you who are writing novels and feel like answering: do you have any advice?  What was (or is) the hardest part of constructing a novel?

Well, I’m off to go write some more.  I will definitely be updating you on how the writing process is going!

Signed,

Cherise, the poetic maiden, who wishes she were sitting in the middle of a forest and writing while listening to a waterfall.

I do believe that, if you could define a poet, you would say that it was someone who sees beauty and rejoices, and who witnesses the destruction of that beauty and weeps.  I believe that it is far too easy for a poetic heart to get attatched to beauty itself and miss the glory behind it, and that is something I daily struggle with.  Poets would be more effective if: a), they focused on the creator of beauty instead of the creation, and b) if they would actually take part in life instead of seeing themselves as mere spectators.  I try to do those two things most of all, but there are times, like today, when I cannot help but mourn the loss of beauty.

Why can't words keep their original meaning?  Take the word ecstasy, for example.  The original meaning was excitement, something referring to when you were totally, outrageously excited and happy.  But now you say that word and people think you're talking about drugs.  Why?  Is there nothing that cannot be twisted and perverted?  Why take a beautiful word and break it into a million pieces?

This is one of the things that make me angry.  Everywhere you look you see something that used to be wonderful that has been trampled on.  Evil has no power to create, only to destroy, and so evil takes what already is beautiful and distorts it.  It doesn't need to be completely destroyed: evil is much more effective when it removes what is good from something and leaves only that which is neutral.  Anything that is neutral can be used for evil.

I weep over the words that have been lost to the sin-filled culture and the language that has been corrupted, being the writer that I am.  I long for a day when evil speech has been destroyed, and when we will speak to God our Maker in the language of heaven, where every word means what it is.  If not for the hope of heaven, I would despair.   As it is I have this great consolation that no man can take away from me.

I love thunderstorms, with that odd, half-frightened captivation that characterizes all those who stand and gaze at the things that can kill them.  Storms are one of the things in life that terrify me the most, but the fear is always tempered with a strange awe and the tingle that runs up your spine when you hear a roll of thunder, and when the neon lightning cracks and breaks the sky with a jagged tear.  When I see the dark clouds beginning to churn outside my window, I run outside and turn my gaze toward the west, where I see a tall, black and purple tower of raging clouds, ever tumbling over themselves, ever rolling in.  The tempest consumes the sky, and I begin to wonder what on earth I am doing, standing there waiting while this powerful, destructive force is coming on.  But I stay.  As the winds rise and I begin to hear the deep, ominous rumbling, the adrenaline pumps through my body and I shiver with an unnatural delight.  Only when the tiny tears of rain begin to fall do I go inside. 

From the west - that’s where the great thunderstorms always come from where I live.  They build up over the mountains, and then break over the city like waves on the shore.  The west: my fascination with it has never broken.  Almost everything I love lies in that direction.  Of course that’s where the thunderstorms come from. 

The great storms come in the summer, although we get a few in spring.  That’s one of the things I look forward to and miss about summer.  I cannot abide flat, gray clouds that cover the sky, but when that gray forms itself into great pillars of fury and strength, then I am almost in love.

So after a long winter of a gray sky that smothers hope and a bleached landscape, I look up to see the great clouds, fresh, alive, swirling over my head, and I hear the thunder descend upon my ears.  To me it sounds more like a triumphant bugle-call, a great, majestic return.  And the storm takes on a new life; what I once saw as a twisting and writhing in anger I now see as a dancing, a leaping, a spinning and swirling with joy of a different kind. 

I breathe in a lungful of the moist, pungent air and sigh, but not without a bit of frightened ecstasy.  The thunderstorms have returned. 

I have posted chapters 3 & 4 on The Cup Runneth Over.  If you didn’t read the first two chapters, you can read them here. 

Now to answer the question: why did I stop writing Return to Romelia? 

The answer is somewhat hard to explain, but there were several reasons.  The first reason is that I felt that the plot was not interesting enough: no new twists to keep the reader interested.  After chapter six you pretty much knew where the story was going.  The second reason was that I had not mapped out the plot of the story in the beginning.  I mean, I had some idea, but not enough of an idea, so the story grew of its own accord.  I didn’t like some of the places the story was straying into, but it was too hard to uproot that section of the story and reform it.  I began to see a lot of feminist ideas and other worldly things creeping into the story.  I cut it off before it became too big, but if I had continued to write further the problems would have been bigger and more evident.  I hated to see the story going so wrong when I felt like I couldn’t control it, so I decided to take a break from it.  As I continued to stay away from writing the story, I realized that I would probably never come back to it.

I have often considered starting again with Return to Romelia: taking the basic framework I created and doing more with it.  But the editing and revision that would have to take place would be enormous, and frankly, I would just rather start anew.  Which leads me to the third reason I gave it up: I just became too bored with the whole thing, and couldn’t stick with it any longer.  If I am bored, then those who read it will be bored.

In the time after I quit writing it, I also decided that there should be a reason for every story.  One shouldn’t write a story just for the sake of writing it, and then display it before the world.  A story should

a)      Entertain people,

b)      Inspire people to live better lives, or

c)      Communicate ideas

We live in a world swamped with things meant to entertain, first and foremost.  Most of those things, whether they are movies, books, or songs, communicate ideas, and most of those ideas are bad ones.  Only a few things even try to inspire people to live better lives, and often they don’t do a very good job at that.  What the world needs are books that entertain without exposing people to junk and bad ideas, but instead present good ideas and make people want to live for something better than this world has to offer.  I felt that Return to Romelia didn’t do that, and so was a waste of time.  I want to do more with my writing than simply entertain for the sake of entertaining.  If I do not fulfill that purpose with any book that I attempt to write, then I will consider my writing career a failure.

I have two more chapters of the story that I will post on my other blog, in case anyone is interested.  Also, check out the poll that I put on my sidebar, and be sure to vote!  I think I will have it up for a while and then I will post about the results.  

     Every winter I go through a depression.  There is less sunlight, there is nothing green and growing, and during school I huddle in my blankets to keep warm as I gaze out upon the grey and yellow-brown that is the land and the sky.  I always feel that I a part of me is dead.

     But despite how I feel, this depression is always good for me.  It forces me to let go of the earthly things I cling to and focus on God (which is still not my natural bent).  It also, surprisingly, is the time when I tend to write the most.  When I am robbed of most external inspiration, I gain most of my internal inspiration, which turns out to be the fuel that carries me through the rest of the writing year.

     There is nothing like winter to make you appreciate spring.  Yesterday it was warm where I live.  But not only that: There was something in the wind that stirred the soul, and something odd about the color of the grass; could it be that there were little flecks of green between the tall yellow blades?  The first tiny blades of grass beginning to come up?

     Standing on the sidewalk, taking in the warm wind and the smell of awakening in the air, the thought washed over me:

     It is over.  I made it.