5 Literary Characters I'd Like To Have Dinner With

I'm sure that we have all wished we could meet the people that we've read so much about in our favorite stories.  It's fun to imagine what it might be like to share a meal with them, and pick their brains.  Here are the 5 characters I would choose if I could.

1.  Kidd, from John Sandford's Kidd series

This guy intrigues me.  He's a professional computer hacker, he helps people do everything from rig elections to corporate espionage.  He's also a talented painter who makes a decent living off his work.  Also, he likes tarot cards but he uses them as a game, which is pretty cool.  Plus he sounds sexy.  That helps.

2.  Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter series

This girl is wacky, hilarious and all around awesome.  She seems to thrive on confusing the people around her.  She is free-spirited and open-minded, plus she kicks some serious booty.  I kind of just want to put her in my purse and carry her around like a Chihuahua.

3.  Lisbeth Salander, Girl With the Dragon Tattoo trilogy

Lisbeth is a tough, badass biker chick with tattoos, piercings and a case of whoop-ass packed into a tiny package.  She works hard at maintaining her badass exterior, but you also see her soft side quite a bit.  I'd love her to be my best friend/future wife.

4.  Katniss Everdeen, The Hunger Games trilogy

If you're noticing a theme of badass women here, it's because yep.  Badass womanry is one of my favorite topics.  This chick is only 16 and she is pretty much self sufficient.  She took over the running of the household after her dad died and her mom had a nervous breakdown.  And that's before the Hunger Games.

5.  Gandalf, The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings

Really, does this one need explanation? Badass.  That is all.

Who would you pick for your five?

Inspiring Music

Rock/Classic Rock/Metal.  My all time favorite music.  I love the stuff my parents used to listen to: Lynyrd Skynyrd, AC/DC, George Thorogood.  I also love all the 80's metal that my parents hate:  Metallica, Guns N Roses, Motley Crue.  I love 90's rock/alternative: Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bush.  And I love current rock/metal.  Favorites: Disturbed, System of a Down, Avenged Sevenfold.  I love rocking out when I write, it makes me feel so powerful.

Contemporary Classical.  This is one style of music that I have been really into lately.  Depending on my mood, it is one of the things I like to listen to when I write. I don't know if it's the actual name of a genre or not, but that's what I'm calling it because that's the only thing I can think of that fits, though it is an oxymoron.  It's instrumentals that are new.  One of my favorites is the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.  I also like Lindsey Stirling, the Piano Guys, and David Garrett.  Film scores are a lot of fun to listen to as well, particularly Pirates of the Caribbean.  I put on my headphones and I am taken away, suddenly my fingers are spilling my soul onto paper.  My 19 year old sister makes fun of me for listening to "old people music" but I don't care.

Pop.  This mood strikes me occasionally when I am feeling playful.  I don't like all pop, actually I think most of it is crap but there are a few exceptions.  I am a fan of Rihanna, I also like Kesha, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga.  That about covers it, and while it inspires me, I end up dancing in my seat more than I do writing.  At least it keeps my tuchus from falling asleep.

What kind of music inspires you?

Writing Prompt Boot Camp, Day Two

Alright boys and girls, it's time for the second post in Writer's Prompt Boot Camp, which can be found here.  If you want to try it, all you have to do is subscribe to their free email newsletter, which is full of useful information.  Day Two asks us what would happen if we ran into an old lover on Valentine's Day, the one you call "The One Who Got Away".  Hope you enjoy.  As always, if you have a question or comment, please don't hesitate.

             I burst out of the restaurant, tears streaming down my face.  Furious, I throw my bouquet of red roses on the ground and stomp them until they are nothing more than a pile of fragrant confetti.  Sobbing, I sink down on the curb and bury my face in my hands.  I gradually become aware of wary looks from people passing by.  I take a deep breath and slowly rise to my feet.  I wipe my face and stick my arm out to hail a cab.  After three taxis sail by without picking up the disheveled crying lady surrounded by tattered roses, I throw up my arms and begin trudging up the street to the bus stop.

            My mind is racing.  I have never felt so pathetic in my life.  I had been looking forward to this night for weeks.  I went out and bought an outrageously expensive dress and the highest pair of heels I have ever owned.  My toes are numb from being squashed into these monstrosities.  I spent hours doing my hair and makeup, agonizing over which necklace to wear.  I was excited.  I was so bubbly, I felt like I had a belly full of champagne.  Now all I feel is the hangover.

            I went to the restaurant, our restaurant, where we had our first date.  As soon as I said my name to the hostess, I was whisked away to a private VIP room filled with glamorous couples.  Three waiters simultaneously handed me a dozen red roses, champagne, and a menu.  I beamed and soaked up the pampering I was receiving.  The minutes ticked by as I waited for Jordan, but he never showed.  I sat there and endured the pitied looks from the men and snotty, self-satisfied smirks from the women.  After an hour of trying to look composed while sipping my champagne, I was asked to give up my table.  My frustration combined with the waiter’s syrupy, faux-sweet demeanor as he gave me the boot sent me over the edge, and I lost it.  I screamed in frustration at being humiliated like this.  I smashed my champagne flute on the floor, snatched up my roses and made for the door.  The waiter stopped me.  “You’re going to have to pay for that, you know,” he spat as he clamped onto my arm like a vise.  I yanked free of his grasp, my eyes flaming.  “Put it on his credit card!” I snarled.

            My eyes cloud at the embarrassing memory.  I can’t believe he abandoned me on Valentine’s Day.  I get to the bus stop with my head hung low, sniffling like a child.  I lean against a nearby pole and close my eyes.  I just want to go home and forget this horrible day.  After a couple minutes, I feel a finger lift my chin.  I raise my eyes…and it’s him.  My first instinct is to slap him across the face, but instead I throw my arms around him and squeeze as hard as I can.  “Jordan,” I whisper.  “I didn’t think you were going to come.”  The tears glittering in his eyes are enough apology for me.

            He takes my hand in his and we begin walking back up the street.  As we get closer to our restaurant, he looks at me inquisitively.  I’m not hungry anymore, plus I’m sure I’ve been banned for my little display.  I shake my head no, but he’s looking past me.  I follow his gaze.  He’s staring at the roses I destroyed.  I feel a tinge of regret and I bend to pick up the card that was attached to the bouquet.  My heart warms as I read the message.  “Paige.  I will love you now and forever.  You will always be a part of me.  Love, Jordan.”

            We walk around town for hours, hand in hand.  When I talk, he listens, but mostly we just wander and enjoy being together.  My feet ache in my expensive new shoes, but I don’t pay them any mind.  He stops and picks me some flowers that are growing on the side of the road.  The night begins to fade into dawn.  My heart begins to pound as pink streaks the sky.  I hadn’t realized how late it was.  I lean in for one more kiss before we walk him home.  He strokes my cheek and pulls me into his arms.  Before he goes, he murmurs two words into my hair.  “Be good.”

            My teardrops splash the stone as I trace the engraving on the grave marker.  “Jordan.  Loving son & fiancé.  Died February 14^th, 2009” I’ll never forget that day.  I twist my engagement ring as the memories come flooding back to me.  I was waiting for him at our restaurant when I got the call about the accident, and my entire world came crashing down around me.

            I lay my flowers at the base of the headstone.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.  You will always be a part of me.”  I say quietly.  As I walk away, I finger the flower card in my pocket.  I pull it out to read it again.  The writing on the card is identical to mine...just like last year.

Icebreaker Friday

I declare it Icebreaker Friday, because I feel like I need to have some sort of structure to how I post, that's just the way my anal, nerdy brain works.  Plus, I'd like to think that my readers (once I get some readers, that is) would like to know more about who I am as a person.  Maybe I just like talking about myself.  Yeah, that's probably it.  However.  I would also like to get to know my readers, so please respond in the comments!  Today's topic: 3 books you would bring with to be stranded on a desert island.  For the record, "I would just bring my Nook/Kindle/tablet" is not a valid answer.  For one, that's skirting the question.  Two, it doesn't make much sense.  It's not like you can plug it into a coconut tree.  It would be dead after a couple days and then what would you do?? I suppose you could try to use it as a weapon to hunt for food.  If you practiced you could probably use it like a Frisbee, but I don't know how much harm that would do to anything.  You could probably kill a squirrel that way, or at least knock him out.  Probably not many squirrels on a desert island though. But I digress.  Here goes.

1.  A Painted House by John Grisham

John Grisham is one of my favorite authors, and this is the first book I ever read of his.  My grandma gave it to me when I was 12, she thought I would like it and she was right.  I now own every one of his books and have read them all at least twice.  I have read A Painted House so many times that the pages are starting to fall out.  It's an off-genre book for him, he usually writes legal thrillers and this is definitely not one of those.  It's a story about a 7 year old boy living in Arkansas on a cotton farm, and the summer where he learns too many secrets.  It's poignant, touching and funny.  Definite recommendation.

2.  False Memory by Dean Koontz

Dean Koontz is another of my favorite authors, and another that was gifted to me and I fell in love.  My cousin's girlfriend gave me two of his books when I was 14 or so, now I own roughly 40 of them.  I can't keep up with the guy.  He writes mainly science fiction-type thrillers.  I'm a thriller fan.  Especially of the Michael Jackson variety.  (Side note: it is my dream to be a part of a Thriller flash mob.)  Anyway.  This particular book is about a woman who mysteriously develops a case of autophobia, or fear of oneself.  It's a cerebral, fast paced read that will keep you on the edge of your seat.  Like A Painted House, I read this one so many times that several pages fell out and I had to buy a new copy.  Totally worth it.

3.  Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh

Much different from the other two.  This is one of my favorite books of all time.  It's based on Allie's blog, Hyperbole and a Half.  It is the funniest damn thing I have ever read in my life.  I remember not long after I bought it, my boyfriend and I got a hotel room.  He was still at work and I was in the room waiting for him.  I was reading this book and laughing my ass off by myself in a hotel room.  It's funny, smart, and most of all, it's TRUE.  I can relate to her so deeply that it almost feels like she's talking about me.  I can't wait for another of her books to come out.

So that's the 3 books I would take with me, though honestly if I had the choice I would probably just want a case of notebooks and a case of pens and I would write my own books and read those :)  What 3 books would you want with you?

Home

I like to write about what inspires me.  In fact, I officially declare Wednesday to be Inspiration Day on Outspoken Hermit.  Excuse me while I write that in my calendar every Wednesday for the rest of the year.  Jk, that's WAY too much work.  I digress.  This is one of the things that inspires me.

That picture is the view of the Mississippi River from the hotel across the street from my apartment.  Beautiful, isn't it?  It's easy to take something for granted when you see it every day, but once in awhile, when you're not expecting it, it will take your breath away.  It's not just the river that inspires me, it's where I live in general.  I'm a small town girl.  I grew up in a town of less than 400 people, lived in a nearby city for awhile, then moved back to a town of about 700.  It's quiet, the people are friendly, and the rent is cheap.  My mom works within walking distance of my home, and the elementary school is across the street from our backyard.  My son is involved in Cub Scouts and T-Ball, and the same boys from his class are in both.  It's a tight-knit community, I love it here, and I will never leave.  What (if anything) inspires you about the area you live in?

Writing Prompt Boot Camp, Day One

I recently started a new novel and I am quite excited about it.  I burned my way through the prologue and promptly hit a wall.  Looking for a bit of inspiration and to get my creative juices flowing again, I stumbled across this: Writer's Prompt Boot Camp.  I browsed through it and decided to give it a shot.  I am having a blast with it so far and I definitely recommend it if you are in a bit of a rough patch, or if you just feel like writing something.  It's free, all you have to do is sign up for their free email newsletter, which is full of good tips and articles and all that jazz.  Anyhow.  It's a 14 day thing, I'll be posting one a week instead of one a day because ain't nobody got time fo dat.  Here is my take on Day One, where we are instructed to write a letter to Writer's Block, "breaking up" with it, starting with the phrase "It's not you, it's me."  Hope you enjoy.  If you have a question or comment, please don't hesitate.

Dear Writer’s Block,

It’s not you, it’s me.  We’ve been together for a long time now and there have been a lot of ups and downs in this on-again, off-again relationship.  There have been a lot of good times.  You, frustrating me into procrastination, laughing at me while I play video games & watch Top Chef,  throwing rocks at my muse as he sat dejectedly in a corner playing solitaire.  At first, I thought we were just having fun, but then I saw the maniacal glee in your eyes every time I put down my pen.  You’re toxic and I can’t poison myself anymore.  I’m going to move on and be the best writer I can be.  Goodbye Block, I wish you luck in the future.

Lynz

Block,

Apparently I didn’t make myself clear enough in my last letter.  Allow me to be blunt.  This. Is. Over.  Don’t play dumb with me.  I saw your car outside my office when I went on my lunch break yesterday.  I heard your footsteps creeping up behind me in the coffee shop as I was trying to type my synopsis.  I also saw you outside my window last night when I was jotting story ideas in my journal. I tried to nice last time but now I need to be honest.  It’s not me, it's you.  It has always been you.  Oh, and just so you know, I’ve fallen I love with someone else.  His name is Inspiration.  He’s beautiful, strong, and everything you weren’t.  For the last time, leave me alone.

Lynz

Introduction

I love to write.  Any of my friends could tell you I don't go anywhere without a notebook in my purse.  For the last 5 years or so, I've been attempting to write a novel.  I've started 4 different storylines and pursued them with a fervor, until I eventually hit a wall and the whole process starts again.  I have a story inside me that I am determined to get out.  This blog is a means for me to keep my creative juices flowing on days that my novel writing just isn't going anywhere.  I'm also hoping it will be a good platform for me to make a name as an author.  I'll be posting once or twice a week about anything and everything related to writing, and I will also be posting short stories that I bang out once in awhile.  Thanks for reading!