I Beg Your Pardon? I Never Promised You A Rose Garden.

I've got a lot of thoughts tonight. Lots of broken promises and regrets and new hopes and excitement. It's an interesting jumbled pot. My heart got broken early this summer. Broken isn't really the word for it, but I don't really want to elaborate. Picking up my pen hurt more than anything else, because facing the truth of the matter was too difficult. How cruel that my therapy was stripped from me when I needed it most?
It doesn't matter now. There's always that moment, isn't there? Where you feel your heart sigh simultaneously for what was and begin longing for what now lies ahead? It feels so good to smile again. I mean really smile, not that "I'm fine so stop asking" crap. And you know what?
*picks up pen*
It's time.


<3 Kelsey Leigh

Follow Me Back Tuesday

A new reason to like Tuesdays :)



Just follow the link and explore all the fun sites! And to my visitors, I hope you like what you see! If you're a book/pony fan, I have a giveaway going on in the previous post. Have fun all!

<3 Kelsey Leigh

Giveaway - New Beckoned

So, I need input. I'm prepared to beg for it. It's only the prologue and chapter one. If I get at least twenty creative comments, I will randomly choose one of you and buy you the paperback of your choice (or if it's a non-expensive hardback novel, that works too. Just remember I'm a college student and I don't have that much money). Also, five random commenters will get a pony. Yes, a pony. Yeah, you know that stuff on twitter about giving away a pony? I started that with Tiffany Trent. I'm really proud of myself. Anyway. Get me at least twenty comments and one of you gets a book of your choice and five of you get ponies. Leave a comment and fill out the form below. If you retweet and/or post to your blog be sure to note that on the form as well. Deadline is May 7th. Make it happen. I love you all :)

Road Trip Wednesday - First Kiss

Well I'm new to this, but here goes. This is YA Highway's Road Trip Wednesday, a Blog Carnival for reading and writing related questions. And you know me, if there's a carnival involved, I'm there with bells on. Ding Ding Ding.
This week's question asks us to compare our firsts kiss with those of our favorite characters. Oh, gawd. 
All right, let's get this over with. My very first kiss didn't happen until I was *gulp* seventeen. My boyfriend was in the military and had been gone for about eight months or so. So we had A LOT of build up. Plus there was the added tension of how much we had missed each other. It was 1 a.m., summertime, crickets chirping. I ran down my driveway to meet him sooner. *sentimental sigh* I think the only bad thing that happened was that my foot caught in a blackberry bramble. 
He was a really good guy, especially for my first love. I was definitely lucky in that sense. I think I'm one of a few lucky people who can look back on my first kiss without resentment or regret, and I'm grateful for that.
Now, I read A LOT. I mean, I could go in debt if people didn't loan me books. But THE ONLY kiss that stood out in my head when I first saw the question was from Twilight (NOT the movie). I don't know why. Bella and Edward aren't my favorite characters, but *shrug* something about them just stuck with me. And then, when I tried to think of others, I realized why.
I love it when characters resist each other. Because it just makes that moment when they finally give in so much more....(insert unnameable emotion here). I guess that's the motivation behind my WIP too (SPOILERZ). So how was your first kiss, and how does it compare to your favorite book?


<3 Kelsey Leigh

Please Don't Attack Me

PUT DOWN THE TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS. I can justify this. 

Wanna know how?

Books. BOOKS. BOOKS!
Let me recap a bit. E-Readers. To love or not to love? 
I've gotten varying responses to this question. The people who are adamantly against them, I like to call Traditionalists. They love the feel of a book in their hands, that new book smell, and just the overall poetic idea of a book. I'm here to say that there is nothing wrong with that mind-set. I understand the commitment. 
But... come on hun.
There are some people though, who are WAY into these little gadgets. Technoids. Nothing wrong with that. They're awesome little devices that bring books instantly and somewhat cheaply (after the daunting price of buying the damn thing). 
I'm somewhere in the middle. 

Writing - Our Fickle Mistress

Here's the thing we all know/love/hate about writing: it's a gift, but it's not really ours to wield. We have no control over this situation whatsoever. It comes and goes when it pleases. But... isn't that kind of the beauty of it?
No. No it is not.
Well. Okay, so maybe sometimes, when the bitterness has faded some and we're strung out on coffee/chocolate/other various sugars and a little hysterical, then it's kind of amusing in a giggly sort of way. But you know... other than that.
How do you cope with writing, that unstable mistress? What's it like to love something so fickle?

I'm referring of course, to the way you can set aside time to write - hours, days even - and plan it all out. Set up your writing station just so, stock up on caffeine and finger foods, turn off the phone... but it's like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. She's not at your beck and call. 
But then the second you're preoccupied with something ENTIRELY too important too ignore - that's when she demands your attention. 
Welcome to life, folks. 
It happens to me more often than not when I'm in my English classes. Or in any situation where math is involved. I'm sure I could analyze this further, but really the why isn't all that important. It's the "What now?" that really matters. 
I try to keep little notebooks on my person all day so I can just give in to the muse, let her have her way with me and cope with the outcome later. I also have little jotted notes ALL over my class notes. 
So tell me, how do things work for you? Do you ride the wave, or resist the flow and make it happen?

Prologue

    Emma hid in an unused corridor where she hoped no one would think to look for her, scrunching up to sit on the floor. She just needed to be alone. Tiny creatures had been pawing at her all day - braiding white flowers into her hair and trussing her up in elaborate gowns - trying to force joy into her through their own smiles. They only meant to please her, but could not understand her sadness. Human emotions were sometimes too complex for them. The paper she clenched in her hands crinkled up at the edges, the picture fading from so much recent use. She stared at the muted colors again, tracing their images with fingers that had grown too thin. Tears made their way down her face, discoloring the page as they dripped down. “Tomorrow,” she told the photograph, “I marry a king.”
    Sobs shook her frail form until she finally drifted to sleep, where hauntingly beautiful images chased her in her dreams. The sound of footfalls jarred her awake much later, clacking slowly and getting louder with each step. Him. She shivered and pushed herself further up against the wall, tucking her elaborate dress in around her. She all but stopped breathing, willing herself to become invisible. The footsteps stopped suddenly, hesitating, then picked up again, quicker and much louder. He rounded the corner, a dark shadow against the dusky light filling the hall. Those perfect sapphire eyes found her immediately, and a small sob escaped from her throat.
    He sighed, as if he could read her mind, or at least the fear on her face. Her heart still longed to find some trace of the love she had once imagined in his eyes, but a still place inside said to give up the hope. “Emma,” he whispered, lowering himself to meet her gaze. “I am afraid that we need to talk. It seems that I was wrong about you.” She whimpered. That horrible, beautiful monster.