summer vacation, day 1


It is now the first day of summer vacation, and yet I still feel like there is a weight on my shoulders- like it hasn’t yet sunk in that there isn’t a pop quiz in AP Lit ready to spring at me and ruin my grades further or that a few certain people at school no longer have the opportunity to startle and aggravate me for their own entertainment or that I won’t have to wake up in self-hating despair at six in the morning anymore.

Prairie Flower is in a week. That’s also when the seniors have their graduation ceremony, and also when I was supposed to perform with the rest of the band- but my band teacher said not to worry about making it up if I couldn’t go. That makes two pieces of music I guess I’ll have to remember to return on the first day of school.

If I survive that long. Which I probably will, but you never know. Maybe I’ll decide to go into journalism, get a job at a repair shop as a stepping stone into sysadmin-hood, and be coerced by a nihilist rogue into running away to a commune. And then I’ll have to explain to fully-grown adults that violence only antagonizes people, which will result in someone actively planning my assassination and my brother intervening to bring me and the ethereal man-child who followed me out of the commune to safety.

And then I’ll hide for a while before being killed anyway, which will almost trigger a war.

Sometimes I feel bad for Vey and the rewrite I’m forcing her to go through. And sometimes I reconsider my life decisions.


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Over the past two months, I’ve been carrying around a PlayStation emulator on my phone and working my way through one of my favorite childhood games, the original Spyro the Dragon. Through minimal (read: heavy usage of moon jump) cheats, I’ve managed to traverse over every nook and cranny in the game and collect every single item possible. It may not seem like that interesting of an achievement, especially since I spent this weekend at Camp Prairie Flower, but the kindergarten girl toilet training while maneuvering a pixelated purple dragon would be pretty damn excited to know that she made it to the end after all those hours spent.


Hello there, fellow MayVaneDay fans! Can you believe it? In just twelve days, I will have been parading around on this website for a year. And what a year it’s been… If I told the ninth grader who created this blog that the silly stories that she was currently working on would eventually give way to her first official book series (because the powers that be know that she’s tried before and horrifically failed) she’d have flipped and worried that she was wasting her time. But everybody needs to start somewhere, and some start humbler than others. And if taking a book series that you had a love/hate relationship with in seventh grade and making a crappy web series about it (which ran from late seventh grade to the day before I created this one on a vacation late ninth grade) doesn’t count as a humble beginning, then I don’t know what is.

I know that at least one follower must be thinking to themselves right now that they miss when I came out with new prose every day and we were a churning fiction machine. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to return to that bliss and sweat in a long time- The Samhain Files, which I drafted in December and early January, is currently only in the tenth chapter of the first novelized rough draft. It doesn’t help that I did such a halfhearted and crappy job the first time around that I practically have to write a whole new book all over again. My bones ache for the day when I can send it off to a group of approximately fifteen people (who I am still piecing together) for peer review and can begin outlining The White Line Fever. And that’s going to be a dang long book to draft and revise… My point is, it’s going to be a damn long time before I begin any kind of serious work on The Lilyborn. (And yes, that’s the title of the third book, and there’s a reason for that which I will not reveal here.) And even then, there’s the light outlining… and the gathering of the ideas and visuals… and the actual act of writing…

This week, I’m going to take it easy and continue to write poems (with the exception of today) since this weekend, I’m going to be at a Girl Scout camp called Prairie Flower with my friend, both of our moms, and my friend’s little sister and her respective friend. Thursday’s going to be a clusterfun (you all know the word that I want to put here, but I’d rather not trip any profanity filters at the moment) with shopping for all of the food that will be consumed by the six of us and also having to pack my bags that same day. Because, you know, one small little drawstring bag isn’t sufficient for Prairie Flower. May the proverbial god bless you if you can somehow fit two days of change, a bottle of shampoo to smuggle in, soap, a water bottle, and an umbrella (because it ALWAYS RAINS at least part of a day) along with extra clothes, a hat, sunscreen, snacks… you get the picture. For the low price of your current sanity, you can subject yourself to Stress Lite™ and pack your bags after Thursday so that, immediately after coming home in Friday, you can get into another vehicle and take advantage of the early-bird vehicle access into the camp. It’s practically a death march walking a cart back and forth between your vehicle and your campsite when you only have one single plastic heavy-day cart and you need to shove a whole troop’s worth of sleeping bags and food coolers inside.

I know that I can’t possibly say this enough, but thank you readers for everything that you’ve given me. I know that sixth-grade me wouldn’t have completely flipped her lid at the entire class in front of the DARE teacher if she had known that it takes time in order to write a successful and fulfilling novel. Everybody in the class was jumping on the writing bandwagon, but I can’t name a single one of them except for me who actually persevered with it all the way to today. Thank you for believing in me- through this site, I’ve met so many people, touched so many lives, and been touched and inspired by hundreds more. May this next year in writing bring even more writing, more friends, and more opportunities for everybody.