Tarot Cards and Black Roses

15 10 2007

I once wrote a story, and I loved that story.  And then I stopped writing that story.

Yeah, and I thought that was the end of the novel called, Tarot Cards and Black Roses.  However, while talking to Rampage on the phone in a catatonic state of absolute boredom, I clicked on the icon with said novel as its title, and began reading my writing.  And then, inspiration hit me, like five hundred pounds of water coming out of a broken dam.  I’m not even kidding.  First, let me give you some background on the story that I want to make a published author out of me.

I have writing journals in which I record everything that pops into my head.  All the irrelevant writing that would never fit together, unless I completely altered it and even then, that would defeat the purpose.  But, anyway.  I once wrote a story about a carnival during the fall, and the tarot card reader at the fair called a man and a woman that came in (now my main characters) the ‘omens of death’ and then they ran.  Well, this became my application for the yearbook staff, and what do you know, it got me in.  That and the good recommendations from my teachers.  Anyway.  So, I decided, heck, why not try to write a story about a girl in 1883 trying to contend with a werewolf boyfriend who cannot seem to get rid of his alpha who is actually a vampire.  And so I did.  With meticulous planning, I worked straight from May until August 9th when I quit all work upon the damn story.  I wrote 198 pages.

I recently just discovered that I had the ending for the book all along, and now, I have a way to continue writing it.  This is really exciting to me.  I just fell in love with the characters all over again, and I enjoy twisting the image of a perfect girl in the nineteenth century into a tough-as-nails chick who would kill to keep her people safe.  And she does, and it gives an interesting twist to the lives of the people who lived in 1883…like my social studies teacher.  Just kidding.

So, for those of you who are curious as to why I am in such a good mood, this is why:  I am writing again, and nothing makes me happier.

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