Monday-ish

Okay, so it's actually Tuesday. I'm still trying to figure out this schedule. I need a pop-up calendar on my computer, to tell me when things are due. Speaking of things being due, this morning I received a lovely message and I'm going to share it, because even though it's computer generated and I'm sure many other people received the same message, it clicked with me. It's so very true and I know the rest will be true. Without further ado...

You're going to miss the slow times and quiet days, Rebecca. Your anonymity, stealth, and small circle of friends. Plodding along at your own pace, working in spurts, and wondering where your next break will come from. Even your uncertainties, doubts, and fears will be missed. 

It just works like that once massive dreams start coming true. 

You'll manage just fine,
The Universe

I'm so excited to get that little bit of encouragement. I'm on schedule for Friday, the 1st to go back to my manuscript and start the editing and revision process. I've made myself take a break from it, so I can go back with fresh eyes. I was getting too overwhelmed at the sheer magnitude of work that has to be done yet. However, I've broken it down into smaller, more digestible parts and having to mentally slap my hands to keep from pulling up the document or taking out my printed chapters that are there, just waiting for me to mark them all up. My highlighters and pens are all lined up, just waiting for me. And it's only Tuesday.

If you're interested in receiving you're own notes from the universe, go to www.tut.com They're free and I haven't had one yet that didn't make me smile. Today's was the best yet, for me. Peace and love to you all!

Well, Hello!

Wow. It's been a while. Things have alternated between crazy busy and mind numbingly boring. The good news? I finished my first book, LUMA (working title). The bad news? I finished my first book. Just kidding, kind of. I was so happy writing the ending and so proud of it. The next day I was still walking on clouds, but then it hit me - all the work that needed to be done yet.

I need to write my one sentence pitch (have half of it). I need to write the synopsis. I needs to rewrite two scenes (down from three). I need to read it and start fixing all the errors. Then I have to find one or more critique partners and rewrite some more. After that? Send it out to beta readers and get more feedback and rewrite some more. After a few more edits and rewrites, I'll be ready to start writing my query and then send it out to agents. Hold my breath and expect the best, but prepare for the worst. Over and over again until I find one willing to take a chance on me and the story I love so much.

Am I prepared for rejection? I tell myself I am, but I won't know for sure until I get that first letter/email or worse, no response at all. No matter what, I'm going to keep trying. I have to believe.

I'd like to say I'll keep this updated regularly and I'll try to post something new every second and fourth Monday. On the first and third Monday of each month, I post over at www.hugs-and-chocolate.com. It's a website geared for writers. I also write occasionally for the blog at www.rue-morgue.com. Luckily, I get to do YA horror author interviews there.

Well, it's technically my birthday and my gift to myself is to finish writing a scene. I hope you're all doing well and that you had a marvelous holiday season and that the New Year far exceeds anything you can imagine!

Thinking thoughts

I think I'm losing my mind. The days are flying past and I can't seem to get my head out of this constant fog. I'm writing this beautiful story. I love it, yet I keep staring at it, tweaking words here and there, but not able to commit to the vision I see for it in my head. I know this story, front to back, top to bottom. And yet, every word is an absolute chore.

I've stopped talking to a lot of my writer friends. Not in a mean way, I still love them and would do anything for them, I'm just at a point where I don't need any negativity. Why then would I step away from the writing community? Because for as much they want you to succeed, there's always a bit of competition. If I say I find something difficult, another person will say they find it easy, as though I'm just not good enough. If I say I want to write something a certain way, they question my judgment and make me doubt my abilities. It shouldn't be that easy to make me doubt, but it is. If I'm having a rough day, then they've had a worse one. Commiseration isn't there, only competition. I'm not trying to "one up" anyone and am weary of those who do. So, I've withdrawn to perhaps two or three people whom I talk to on a somewhat regular basis.

Today is the day where we find out what changes life has in store. I'm so tired of being afraid. I'm so tired of worrying. Just tired. If I sleep, my dreams wear me out and I'm more tired the next day. Home is such a security. I never knew how much of one until that security was taken away. I don't know if I'll ever feel secure again.

I'll tell you a secret. Once you become a homeless person, you're not part of society anymore. You become invisible. People look through you and you let them, because you're not worth anything. That's their perception of you. It's an odd place to be, apart from society. I know that we had it better than a lot of other families, but it changed me. I still feel like I'm not good enough to have earned my place back in regular society. I don't know if I ever will feel part of it again.

I'll end this long post now. Sorry it's not very interesting. I've started about eight posts on this blog since the last one. I'm just going through the motions of getting through each day. Peace and love to you.

Meant to be Written?

Let's talk about something fun. For this NaNo I've been working on a story that I originally started about two years ago. I loved the premise, but to say the plot was weak is an understatement. I kept writing though, thinking it would come to me. 563 pages later the plot still hadn't magically appeared. I stopped writing the story at that point, though I never forgot about it.

So. I started rewriting for NaNo, this time with a vague idea of major plot points. Twenty days in and I was doing good - before I realized I was writing the same story again. I took two days out of writing and wrote a one paragraph synopsis for each chapter until I reached the end of the story. It's tight. It flows and it doesn't stop - exactly the kind of story I like to read.

I started writing it yet again, this time knowing what was going to happen. I wrote the first line and then the first paragraph and then the first chapter. It felt different, right.

But then there's always those doubts that creep in. Was I creating the atmosphere I wanted? Did the tone I set convey that feeling of something just being a little off? Was it all in my head that this could actually be good? Am I using the correct pov and in the correct way? You get the idea. I started doubting myself and everything I'd written.

Writing is a very solitary business. I swore to myself that I wouldn't let anyone read this until I was done. Too many times I've gotten sidetracked by what others think I need to do. I don't want to do that anymore. For as many people out there who genuinely want to help, there are the same number or more who would like nothing more than to see you fail. For some reason, they see other writers as competition. That's stupid.

But I was desperate. I needed someone to tell me if it was shit or not (and yes, that's an official ranking criteria I ask my critiquers to use). I decided to ask someone to read my opening paragraph. Not just anyone, but someone who's seen my work grow. I have this friend. She's a wonderful friend and just a lovely human being. She's also an editor. She mainly works with magazines, but the ones she works for are known nationally and internationally. In other words, she knows what she's talking about. I try not to take advantage of her though. Her feedback is invaluable to me. I emailed her and asked her if she'd be willing to read the first paragraph. She responded instantly and I sent it out.

Within twenty minutes I had a response:

"I love it! I want to be there. I LOVE the pair of ocean/water metaphors at the beginning -- love it so much that I think you could benefit from playing it up even more. Like, maybe there's a stronger, more active verb or phrase that you could use instead of "...covered the..." -- one that conjures a more specific image? That's such a powerful beginning. So much awesome in this paragraph!"

Immediately after reading this, I almost cried. That's all I wanted to know. But then I started thinking about my first sentence that had the  "covered the." I'd rewritten this sentence maybe five or six times and I knew it wasn't perfect. I took her advice and spent an hour rewriting that one sentence. I sent that one sentence back to her.

"Yes!! I think that's a big step in the right direction. Very distinct image, and just a little hint of creepy."

That was it. That is what I needed. She didn't tell me it was perfect, she gave me the nudge as to what I could do to improve it and I did.

Anyway, this is my attempt to not neglect this blog so much. I never know what I'll write about and didn't really intend to write about writing, but that's what I'm trying to focus on instead of thinking of other things. Hope love and happiness find you.

bad stuff

Eeek. I didn't realize it's been almost a month since I've posted over here. I blog twice a month over at www.hugs-and-chocolate.com. We've been going since February and I've actually managed not to miss a deadline. Over there, we talk about all the writerly things that I don't talk about on here. You should check it out.

Anyway. I'm doing NaNo right now. I could use that as an excuse for why I haven't posted this month, but it wouldn't be entirely true. There are some things going on in my life that are beyond myself and beyond my writing. I feel like I'm dancing on a glass floor and a single misstep is going to send my world crumbling. I know it's coming and there's nothing I can do to prevent it.

It's hard living a life full of worry. It ages you. It turns you bitter. I try not to worry, but I can see the toll it's taking because sometimes there's nothing left but worry. The saying, "don't worry, be happy" is ideal, but unrealistic. I'm sorry that I can't choose happiness when someone close to me is facing a medical prognosis that's... well, not good. I wish I could say I choose happiness, but no. I worry. Everyday and every night. Which is why at almost five in the morning I'm up typing this after tossing and turning for a few hours.

People tell you to think positive. It's kind of funny. When I was laid off, people told me to think positive. When we were losing our house, people told me to think positive. When we camped out in a one bedroom apartment with no plumbing or electricity, people told me to think positive. When we worked through the summer to get the place livable and had someone belittling us and making life more miserable than it already was... yeah, you guessed it, people told me to think positive. I don't begrudge them saying that to me, what are they supposed to say? It's easy and supposed to be comforting, but instead, it makes you feel as though it's somehow your fault these things happened because your thoughts weren't happy enough.

I know people mean well when they say it, but it still sucks.

Is this a depressing post? Yes. Yes, it is. Am I sorry? No. I don't deal well with this kind of stress. I like challenges, like getting published or playing a game. But there are some things that come along in life that no matter how much you fight, how much information you have - you can't beat it. I don't like to lose. I withdraw and want to cover my ears and not hear anymore bad news. But I can't. I'm an adult now. I have to be stronger for my son and my family. They need me to be strong. Sometimes I hate being an adult. I'm not ready for this, but then, is anyone?

This is my place to get my thoughts out there and try to make sense of the world around me. I truly hope your world and your reality are kind to you tonight.

“We love our superheroes because they refuse to give up on us. We can analyze them out of existence, kill them, ban them, mock them, and still they return, patiently reminding us of who we are and what we wish we could be.”
― Grant Morrison, Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us about Being Human

Lately I've developed a fascination with superheroes and comics. For the longest time, my only knowledge or contact with superheroes was through movies or television. There was Christopher Reeves Clark Kent on the big screen and then Tom Welling's Clark Kent on Smallville. There were the various interpretations of Batman in the movies, but my favorite character of them all was The Joker as played by Jack Nicholson. I was supposed to root for the hero, but I liked the villain more.

The hero was always too perfect. Too good looking, too built, too rich, too everything. It wasn't appealing. I tried to get into the comic books, but didn't know where to start. So, as a teen, I wrote it off as not being for me. In 2000 a movie came out which made me reconsider. It was "Unbreakable," by M. Night Shyamalan. It was the story of a man, David Dunn, who was the only survivor of a train accident. The movie brilliantly shows his life as colorless, depressing, and lonely. You can just feel there's something missing until he meets a comic book store owner, Elijah Price.

Price has a rare disease that causes his bones to break very easily. His childhood nickname was "Mr. Glass," due to his condition. Price spent his childhood reading comic books and had a realization, if someone like himself was born so weak and helpless then there had to be someone at the opposite end of the spectrum. Someone strong who could help those in need - a superhero. I won't give away the ending, but if you haven't seen it, I'd highly recommend it. It really made me think about superheroes and villains in a whole new light. It definitely led to a whole slew of "what if" questions.

The world has no shortage of villains, but how often do we hear of the heroes? I'm thinking of the everyday person who does something amazing and no one ever knows who they are. What an amazing thing to believe that under the guise of a poor single mother beats the heart of a fierce, brave superhero. What about the homeless man shuffling down the street? What if it's all a cover to hide the cape? Impossible? Laughable? Perhaps. You can believe what you want. However, I choose to believe there are heroes and better yet, superheroes among us. What a boring world it would be without them.

P.S.
Yes. This fascination also came about because of a story idea, which I'll be writing for Camp NaNo.

Finding Me

So, it's been a long time since I've posted anything on this blog. I've been trying to be a part of and do something that's not me. I've been trying to fit in. It's kind of like being the new kid in school and you're welcomed into a certain clique. You're not fully comfortable and don't really feel you fit in, but you say what you know people want to hear, you commiserate about things you secretly find trite, you pump up your enthusiasm about things that bore you to tears in private. Why would I, or anyone, do this to themselves? Is it furthering my art or making me feel better about myself? The simple answer is no. I'm very unhappy because I'm not being me. I'm trying to squeeze myself into a mold which will never fit.

I want to be a successful published author. There. I said it "aloud." I know what you're thinking, so do a lot of other people - and you're right. I've got a ton of writer friends on Facebook and they all want to be successful and published. Looking at the feed on my wall is almost discouraging at times, but I keep pushing myself to better.

I want to write. However, I spend so much time worrying about finding good critique partners, critique groups, finding beta readers and getting feedback. I can't afford workshops, retreats, and writing classes and I worry this will affect my chances of being published. I read craft books and then panic that I'm not doing something right. Egads! I used an adverb in the first five pages!! I told instead of showed! My characters can't blink, shrug or sigh without making my palms sweat.
I know I'm supposed to have an online presence, but can't afford a website, so I have a blog, but I don't update it enough (yes, I'm talking about this one). Is my content relevant anyway? Is a blog good enough? I don't know. I once read an article with an agent that said the first thing she does for any potential client is Google their name. Ack! My pulse was racing. I have Facebook, Google+, Twitter and I write for two other sites in the hopes of getting my name out there. But is this going to be enough?

Sometimes it feels as though I've jumped onto a hamster wheel. I keep hearing that if I do things a certain way, I'll make it - maybe, possibly, eventually someday. I keep running, but I'm not getting much accomplished, because I'm trying to follow all the "have to's." So, I'm taking a flying leap off the wheel and into the stormy seas of the unknown.

I'm going to pursue publication my way. I'm going back to my writing. The statistics of becoming a successful author aren't great, not even good. If that's the case, then I need to enjoy the journey instead of worrying so much about the rules. If you can't disregard rules in art, then when can you?

Some people I know are probably shaking their heads in dismay(argh! another thing that sets my heart racing in fear - the dreaded head shaking by a character).

I've spread myself too thin. Now, instead of writing happily for hours, I'm constantly checking that I'm doing something correctly. Instead of writing what my characters want, I worry that it won't fit into the genre and an agent won't like it. Instead of following the story as I feel it should go, I'm worried about the three act plot, subplots, inciting incident, build up, climax, character arcs, etc...
The funny thing is, I know how to do this. I've been reading for more years than I care to admit. I know how a book should flow. I'm not saying it's going to be perfect, but it'll be fixable. I'm going to again start writing the stories I love.

I'm not going to turn this into a blog about my journey to publication - seriously, how many are of those are there? I'm not going to give writing advice. Why? Because I'm not qualified to do so. I can't tell anyone how to get published, because I'm not there yet. I won't be doing anymore book reviews, because I just don't like to do them. This blog will be about whatever I feel like when I'm posting. I'll try to update on a somewhat regular basis, but I'm not going to make any promises, because as much I appreciate you following me or reading me via Facbook and Twitter, blogging isn't my love - I'd rather be writing.

Log on

This blog is under construction. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I look forward to getting this up and running again. Thank you for your patience.

Book Review: Chimichanga by Eric Powell

In Eric Powell's Chimichanga, we're introduced to Lula, the bearded girl of Wrinkle's Traveling Circus where the freaks aren't so freakish. We're given Heratio - The Boy Faced Fish! An amazing two eyed goat who tells the future! Randy the colossus of average size - he's a man with the strength of a slightly larger man, watch him fight his way out of a wet paper bag and be amazed at the large sacks of groceries he carries up stairs and you can't forget his kitten wrestling abilities! Needless to say, the circus is struggling.

The story begins with Lula going off to buy lunch. She heads for a taco stand and orders; you guessed it, a chimichanga. On her way back, she's met by a witch with a horrible gas problem. In exchange for a few hairs from her beard, Lula receives a wagon and a rock which, unbeknownst to either of them, was recently puked up by a rather sickly looking stork/vulture hybrid. Lula takes her wagon and heads back to the circus only to be slowed by an increased weight in the wagon. She finds the rock, which apparently was an egg, has hatched and now a large, hairy monster is sitting in her wagon. Lula names the monster Chimichanga and takes it back to the circus.

Meanwhile, the witch has prepared her brew and it's cured her gassiness. She immediately takes it to Dinderly Pharmaceuticals where she tries to sell the concoction as a cure for chronic gas. In a rather fun dialogue the owner of the pharmaceutical company explains that cures aren't good for business. They prefer medicine which will keep consumers coming back for more. While the witch is arguing with him, her gas problem erupts twice as bad. The pharmaceutical guy is immediately interested and shoves aside a researcher who has almost found the cure for cancer so he can make room for his new darling: pills that relieve gas and then makes it come back twice as bad. However, there's the problem of where to get more beard hair from a young girl.

What follows is an adventure as Chimichanga gets taken away and Lula is kidnapped. The lawyers of Dinderly claim ownership over her and the circus performers must come up with a way to save her.

I'm relatively new to the graphic novel genre and I have to say, I really enjoyed reading this. The pictures were fun and while colorful, they were a bit muted to show the grittiness of the carnival. Any colors to do with the pharmaceutical company were stark and dismal which gave the intended feeling that we’re dealing with something bad.

Some might find the subject of the pharmaceutical company dealt with a in a heavy handed manner, but I laughed the whole way through. The story between Lula and Chimi was vaguely reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. I loved the not quite freaks in the circus. It was a little predictable at times, but well worth the read if you’re looking for something light and fun.

Guest Review: The Girl in the Box

Amidst the war and genocide in the jungles of Guatemala, a visiting Psychoanalyst discovers a young teen chained inside a wooden box. The girl is mute and appears to be mentally damaged. After the pleas of her parents to take her with him, Dr. Jerry Simpson takes the girl back to his home in Canada. Enlisting the help of his close friends and colleagues, he attempts to unlock the mystery of her past.

When the doctor is later found murdered by the girl, Jerry's long- time friend and lover, Caitlin, sets out to find out why it happened and what went wrong.

I found this book to be very well researched, as evidenced by the author's thorough knowledge of the mental health community and the vivid descriptions of the settings used in the book. The question of "why" will keep you turning the pages in this well-written psychological mystery.

*Note: The Girl in the Box by Sheila Dalton will be available in Novmber 2011. Guest review done by Nancy Fields.

When I first read "The Prisoner of Azkaban,"by J.K. Rowling, the dementors didn't seem so scary. Sure, they were highly unpleasant, but not terrifying. The thought of just being near one and having it suck out the happiness and hope until nothing was left but an empty shell was too remote of an idea and I didn't fully get the impact.

Now, I do. I understand on a level which I'd never wish on anyone. I recently read where Rowling based the idea of dementors on her experience with depression. Not sadness or the occasional unhappiness, but the deep hopelessness of seeing nothing of beauty or worth in life. Here's a quote from her.

“Yes. That is exactly what they are. It was entirely conscious. And entirely from my own experience. Depression is the most unpleasant thing I have ever experienced. It is that absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different from feeling sad. Sad hurts but it’s a healthy feeling. It’s a necessary thing to feel. Depression is very different.”
“I think [dementors] are the scariest things I’ve written.”–J.K. Rowling (quote from http://hpcompanion.com/pa/pa5/)

Life is full of ups and downs for everyone - that's part of life. However, there are times in life when one does lose all hope and if you were drowning - you don't know if you'd bother kicking your legs to reach the top again. Over the past few years, life has been, how shall I say this? Not quite the happy world it once was. Depression in a serious issue and I think a lot of creative people suffer from it. Sometimes it gets so hard to fight that you don't know which way will bring you back to the light at the surface.

As I mentioned earlier, the past few years have been exceedingly rough. My own personal battle with dementors started in 2001, but has been near constant since 2008. There has been job, possession, home and friend loss. The loss of physical things I think I could have handled better had it not been for something else - the loss of self respect and basic human dignity. You see, when we lost our home to foreclosure (brought about by the job loss), we had to stay with relatives. I'd read, before all this happened, that sometimes, being taken in by family in such a situation, had worse repercussions than those who stayed with friends or even in homeless shelters. At that time, it never occured to me how such a thing could be possible.

I hope you never know the feeling of being a bother, of being humiliated by your mere existence. I hope you never know how it feels to know you're not wanted and in the way. I hope you never want to disappear, just so you won't have to wake up to see the condescending looks and hear the whispers of your failure repeated daily. I hope you are never pushed into a corner and kept there by fear. Fear of losing the little you have left.

Things in life have improved. We're in another state where we're renting a home. However, the depression is still there and I have the feeling it always will be. It's something I fight on a daily basis. I can feel when a bad funk is coming on. It's physically hard to smile. Things that once made you laugh you find irritating. There's nothing between you and the dark, stormy abyss.

This has been my own experience and I hope that if you suffer from depression you get the help that's best for you. I'm not sure why I felt the need to talk about this today. I usually try to keep the posts fun and a bit quirky or offbeat, but here it is. Love you all and wish you the best!

Book Review: Every Other Day

The opening scene in Every Other Day starts with Kali D'Angelo preparing, not for school or a date, but for a hunt. She’s a sixteen year old predator, with skills far beyond what humans are capable of… at least today. Tomorrow she goes back to being a teenage girl at her new high school where she tries to stay under the radar of pretty much everyone.

Kali doesn’t know what she is, only what she must do.  The hunter in her takes over and she follows her instinct. However, on her human day she sees a specific marking on one of the popular girls, she knows she has to do something to save the girl. What follows is a fast paced adventure and along the way Kali must learn to trust and open herself to those around her - something she’s never done before.

I adore the pace kept by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. It moved, even when it was giving information, it kept going. I couldn’t put it down and read it in a matter of hours. There are hellhounds, zombies, basilisks, vampires and chupacabras to name a few of the preternaturals Kali must face if she and her friends will survive. Seriously, what more could you want?

New Addition!

Starting later today, I'll be posting my first book review on this blog! Check it out, this was an awesome book and I can't wait to tell you about it. I read it in a matter hours, so you know it's good. Check back later!

Curses!

Was anyone else severely disappointed to find out that the curses of mummy's tombs in Egypt weren't true? NOT that I want anyone to die, but I found the whole curse idea quite fascinating. I remember in second grade writing a report on the burial process used by the Egyptians. My writing was about an inch tall, but I made sure I got the part in there about the brains being pulled out through the nose. That was quite fascinating too at that age (okay, still is). Anyway, back to curses. The legend surrounding the mummy's curse started with Tutankhamen. Within four years of opening the tomb, eleven of the people associated with the discovery had died.

In movies and books today, curses are a dime a dozen. If I pick up a book and read about an old family curse... well, back on the shelf it goes. I think curses are interesting, but very few people know how to come up with a good, solid, old fashioned curse. Something that scares with it's possibility. Something that's believable. Something that is just plain creepy.

There's one other curse I find quite interesting. This is the curse of the Hope Diamond. This curse dates back to 1642 when, legend has it, a Frenchman stole it from a statue of a Hindu goddess (note: never steal a priceless relic from a goddess - you've been warned!). A trail of death and bad luck followed the diamond until it was deeded to the Smithsonian in 1949.

I know that myths, legends and curses seem to grow over time and the events surrounding them are exaggerated, however, stop and think about the possibilities. What kind of story could you craft about a curse that grows stronger with time?

Here's a picture of the beautiful diamond. Why no mummies? Because it's almost four in the morning and I don't want to dream about them.

Cottingley Fairies

1917 in a small village named Cottingley, two cousins -10 year old Frances and 16 year old Elise took several photographs. When the pictures were released publically two years later they caused a huge stir. You see, the girls had photographed themselves with fairies and a gnome. The girls maintained the photographs were real until they were both elderly. Along the way, they'd managed to convince the public and even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was taken in.

Looking at the photographs now, it looks like exactly what they are - cut out drawings. However, for a brief time, people believed. We live in a different time. Information is available at the click of a mouse, people are looking to disbelieve more than they want to believe. So, my writerly friends... what could you come up with to fool the world? What stories can you create? With your words, can you make people believe?

To learn more, here's a link to wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cottingley_Fairies
And another: http://www.lhup.edu/~dsimanek/cooper.htm

Dyatlov Pass

I've been debating for a while how I want to approach topics like this (yes, that's the excuse I'm sticking with for not updating this blog in so long). You see, I don't want to get into conspiracy theories and alien abductions. For the record, I believe the universe is too big for us to be the only life in it, however, as Stephen Hawking said - we shouldn't want to draw their attention to us. There. Hopefully, that's the only mention of aliens you'll ever see on my blog.

Anyway. This story caught my fascination. Why, you may ask? Well, I'll tell you. Nine hikers set off in the Ural Mountains in late January 1959. Seven men and two women. They got a little lost and decided to make camp and wait till the weather was better. The night of February 2, they cut their way out of the tent and all nine took off. Some were wearing only their underwater in temperatures well below zero.

When a search party was launched they followed the footsteps to the edge of the woods and found two bodies, three more were found on the trail back to the camp. They died of hypothermia. The other four, however, died of massive trauma. One had a crushed skull, two had chest fractures and one was missing her tongue. There was no exteral damage to the bodies. No footprints from anyone else and no signs of fighting. Small amounts of radiation were found on some strips of clothing. An investigation was done and the records were sealed by the Russian government. When the documents were opened in 1990, text was missing as were pieces of evidence.

So, if I don't like conspiracy theories why I am posting this? Because there's no logical explanation. Could this be a hoax? Sure, it could. However, doesn't something about this stir your imagination a little? As a writer, it our job to come up with a plausible idea. Tell me you aren't just a little disturbed by this or that your mind isn't racing to fill in the blanks of the story. I've been thinking about this ever since I read about it. I've attached two links if you're interested in reading more.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2008/02/27/notes022708.DTL

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dyatlov_pass_accident

For the skeptics, here's a link:

http://skeptoid.com/episodes/4108

Grotesques

I'd always thought that the scary looking creatures on the corners of older buildings were gargoyles. I was wrong. They're call grotesques. Which, I guess, is a fitting name. Regardless, I think all buildings should be required to have them. There's something about walking past a building, under these creature's watchful eye that commands respect, while at the same time gives the pedestrian a shiver of the unknown. I've watched the cartoons and seen the movies where these things come to life and wreak havoc or try to help humanity. I've read the theories about how these creatures came to be, but honestly, I don't want to know. They're horrible and disturbing. They make me think twice about the building they're perched upon, but they also make me pause and let my imagination run free. That is art.

Trees

Trees fascinate me. They are something that inspire me, though I'm really not sure why. When I'm outside I find my attention constantly drawn to them. I'm going to post a few pictures that I have saved on my computer. Maybe you'll feel the sense of magic too when you look at them.

The Fremont Troll, Seattle, Washington

I know this isn't technically mysterious or curious - it's just cool. Click on the link below to read the history. I wish the town I'd grown up in had been this cool, though I think most of my childhood would have been spent watching it.

The Fremont Troll, Seattle, Washington

Sea Monster of Brooklyn

http://www.foxnews.com/scitech/2011/05/26/sea-monster-discovered-beneath-brooklyn-bridge/?intcmp=sem_outloud&intcmp=obnetwork

Found this link this morning and because it's just interesting I posted it on here. To think of a sea monster living in such proximity to one of the most populated cities... kinda makes me smile :)