Happy New Year etc etc etc

I'm not much for writing cheesy cliche posts about Christmas -I'm sure your dashboard is already full of them. But I will mention that we had heaps of fun with our German friends; trying lots of different flavours and sweets. We had a good time, but as I said I won't bore you.

New Years was so much fun, partying at a friends place, watching despicable me 2 with lots of friends, good food, sparklers and fire-works at midnight. Getting to bed at 1:30am ;)
Excuse me for a moment, I'm just about to tuck into a '9:30 breakfast' Haselnuss-hazelnut german chocolate, it has four little pieces in each packet and tastes delicious!!!

Apart from that we haven't been doing much lately, only recovering from the hectic sewing we did for the wedding (28th December last year ;) But we did go swimming today in the waterhole -cold. The weather hasn't been very summery lately :/

As for my writing, I haven't officially done anything. Although I've started on a new story: heehee naughty me! It's far more paranormal than anything I've ever written (which isn't very paranormal at all) I'm a little afraid of it as the beginning is a little spooky. Oh well I've got at least 2 more books to write before I seriously start looking at it. Yeah. At least two more, I've decided my fate as an author is going to be writing more than one book, because I just can't not write.

Oh and by the way I've dyed my hair red... not very red, more red velvet because of my dark hair but anyway I like the subtlety. I decided to go with commercial dye as it was cheaper (henna costs $30.00!) and a friend was able to do it on me. I've finally got used to looking in the mirror ;)

We've also been feasting on berries; cranberries, gooseberries, raspberries, strawberries, boysenberries and cherries. Very good, Especially when you get to have yoghurt, cream and raspberries on your cornflakes (best breakfast ever!!)

So as you can see we've had quite a lot of fun, how about you? what have you been doing these holidays?

Nanowrimo year 2

Heeheee I just realised I haven't done an update on what happened to my writing! Well it didn't get very far, 9k but hey, I wasn't even planning on doing it this year, so I guess it's more than nothing.
This is my second year on the book "The Chased" which is now 43 pages and I've already started revising with a published author/friend. In other words I've worked myself it too a hole, so I've reverted back brainstorming and pinning ;D gotta get inspiration somehow.
One thing I have learnt is that this story is going to take it's time, no 51k in a month for me :/
I'm actually missing just plain writing and making up stories for fun, and not worrying about the details.  I know, that sounds bad, I'm meant to enjoy writing this,  I'm not meant to worry about what other people think. But it happens regardless... oh well I'll stop moaning, sorry all you non-writers for all the mumbo-jumbo
-Tiffany

the next one

The Battle Surrendered

Part Six

Storyteller SilverLoom

     I cried myself to sleep.

     A gentle touch pulled me from my slumber. I looked up. It was Him.

     As fresh tears cascaded down my face, He pulled me into His arms. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed out.

     “Dear heart,” He said tenderly. “I forgive you.”

     He held me until my wails evolved into hiccupping spasms. Then He helped me stand. “Come on,” He said. “You can’t stay here.” Taking that small gold key from his pocket again, He unbound my chained hands and feet.

     I followed Him to the rope dangling into my prison through the crack in the wall. He gestured at our escape route and said, “Ladies first.”

     I tried to pull myself up the rope, but the sides of my prison had somehow become smoother than last time, and my feet couldn’t find a good hold. If I hadn’t been so weak from days without eating, I may have been able to climb it, but I’m not sure.

     After a few tries, I turned to Jesus. “I can’t do it. I can’t climb up.”

     He nodded. “It’s always harder to escape the second time.”

     “So, we’re stuck in here?!” I panicked aloud.

     He waited.

     I remembered Who I was talking to. Not even a sealed tomb could keep Him in, much less my prison. “Can You help me get out? Please?”

     With an ear-to-ear smile, He replied, “I was hoping you would ask.”

     He climbed the rope as easily as a fish swims; the slick wall could not hinder Him. When He was safely above ground, He told me to hang onto the rope. I obeyed, and He slowly drew me up. We were both under the blue sky in a matter of minutes.

     Jesus untied the rope from the tree He had secured it to. As He began coiling the rope, a thought suddenly hit me, but I hesitated to voice it. He stopped His work and looked at me. “Go ahead,” He said.

     “Jesus,” I began, “I know my capture was my own fault; I shouldn’t have given into the shadow creatures. But… why didn’t You help me? Didn’t You… I mean, You must have known what was happening. Didn’t You wake up?”

     His eyes grew deeply sad. “Yes, dear heart, I knew what was happening. I was watching.” His voice cracked just a bit. “But,” He added, “you didn’t ask Me to help. You were too busy trying to fight them on your own.”

     “I have to ask for Your help?” How could He have just stood there and let me be dragged off? I was incredulous.

     He was patient. “You have to want my help. I never force it on anyone; I will only help you if you want Me to. My way is the perfect way, but I gave you a free will to accept or decline My help.”

     So it was still all my fault.

     We started walking through the forest, covering the same ground we had covered before. The sun moved across the sky slowly, but I kept a close eye on it. When it was past noon, I spoke up, “Hey, um, Jesus. Do You think now would be a good time to start my training? Because, those shadow creatures might come back for me tonight and I want to be prepared.”

     “Your training has already begun.”

     “What?” I cried. “But all I’ve done is get captured! You haven’t even given me the smallest bit of advice on how to wield a sword!”

     He stopped and turned to look at me. “Did I ever say your training would involve weapons?”

     “Um, well, not exactly….”

     “I never hinted at anything of the sort.”

     “But that’s what training is!” I protested.

     Shaking His head, He explained, “You train to become better at something, and it doesn’t have to be with weapons. Athletes train to race better. Warriors train to fight better.”

     “But I thought You were going to train me to be a warrior to fight the shadow creatures!”

     He looked me in the eyes before responding gently, “Dear heart, I am training you not to fight.”

Something that didn't work yesterday

the computer went mad yesterday, so here it is today:

The Battle Surrendered

Part Five

Storyteller SilverLoom

     The shadow creatures were back.

     Again they pulled at me with their freezing hands. I cried out, “No!” and tried to stand, but they kept me firmly fixed to the ground. I looked around for Jesus, but the shadow creatures surrounded me and blocked my view of Him.

      Suddenly, there was that same dizzying light. The same feeling of stupor. The same urge to give in.

     No! I willed myself to fight back. I felt that I couldn’t fail again. I couldn’t let myself give in.

     But the shadow creatures did not let me go, and I couldn’t tear myself from them. I wondered if I really wanted to. Was that prison so bad? Were the chains so heavy? And Jesus would rescue me as soon as I asked Him to. He was nice like that.

     The intoxicating aura of false peace washed over me, irresistible. The creature leaned over and whispered, “Followmeee….”

     I don’t even remember the first step this time. All I know is that I found myself starting awake, once again, in the prison tower with the vague recollection that I had chained myself there.

     I had never thought I would fall into the same trap. If it had been horrible the first time I failed, it was double the horror now.

     And then I thought of Him. I’d let Him down. And that was the greatest heartbreak of all. How could I have ever thought He would rescue me again? And even if He did, how could I face Him?

     My shame overwhelmed me. My guilt was heavier than my shackles. I mourned and moaned in the tower for days. No one came, which only made my sorrow deepen, until it was so deep I felt like I could drown in it.

     I was hungry, thirsty, tired, and cold. It was the closest to death I had ever been.

     Finally, just when I thought I would burst from the pain, I did the only thing left to be done. I cried out for help.

     “God,” I whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please… help me. I’ll die without You.”

     I cried myself to sleep.


I think I might do two today, else it's a very sssssssllllllllllooooooooooowwwwwww businesss 

Greetings, me wee guinea pigs!

I've got some reading for you: How 'bout dat? [ uh english please! how about that]

So strong it brings many to their knees, so gripping it leaves one empty.

Like water it fills a well but leaves it dry with thirst. It is demanding.

Like a story that can never be told, a story that that can never be expressed.A story that has incredible power that only the witnesses can dream of retelling. It is unexplainable. It carves out one's heart, it is like a strong wind, it is so big, it is so un-describe-able, how can it ever be put into words? It bursts through walls of iron as if they were made of feathers: It can not be stopped. Some maybe afraid of its rising tide, but I am not. It is so un-contain-able, yes so very terrible, words can not express the thunder of its coming, or the pin drop silence that place when the Master comes, when the hem of the His robe brushes a human's heart, the burning desire for Him that only He can awake. The beauty of its voice. The great honor of of its calling. The immense power, the huge-ness. The GRACE!!. The vastness. It crushes the universe with blinding light. It is so mysterious, it leaves the watcher in tears.To see this is an incredible honor, that can be seen... for free!

It is not to be taken lightly, it takes the broken, the unqualified, the outcast, the shamed and shunned. It takes their pain away, such a beautiful release, such undeserved grace.It can't be compared to anything   ....ever. Without a price!                  

  

It pulls, it tugs, it unravels an adventure, takes the elderly over mountains the children over seas.It falls like rain. Those in its rising flood, turn to those in the desert "Won't you come?! Taste of the rain! Feel the surge of the water! Wade into its unfathomed depths.

Drown in the swells! Here you fear nothing, you need not bring anything except yourselves. Be prepared to change in strange ways.

Oh, sink in the waters of love!"

For it is love that topples many, that sweeps through and leaves one longing for more.Love that tells a story that can never be retold, it craves out the heart with longing; it drives like the wind, it is so large, one can easily lose oneself. Love flies through

every defense. Some are afraid of its changing powers, but the ones who have tasted aren't, no one should, the love is un-hate-able.

Love can never be captured, yet it was nailed to a tree, it is so terrible, terribly magnificent. From the nails blood ran, like water; love can never be stopped. The sweetness of love's voice whispers "Father...forgive"

Without love the earth trembles and breaks mourning its loss to the skies that have lost all color, all light, all stars and moon.

Sweltering blackness has fallen. All suffocates in its thick tangible flow. All can that be seen is a trickle of blood , the trickle of life

the trickle of love ... dying.

Frigid tensions run through the skies agonizing groans ripple through the earth, the surface between is paralysed with fear.

For three risings of the sun the world os empty of life, is stripped of its essence. The earth cries out in grief. The people are the only ones unaware that the universe is in its death throws. They wake on their Sabbat to worship a dead love.

In another world love enters. A kingdom black, heavy, soaked in evil. A place where blood is the water. A place that has never known love. A place reeking with hate, murder. A place where the sun was too scared to rise... the land of fear.

Then like the ripping of curtains, like the crashing of thunder, like a fork of lighting. Love enters, the first rays of its liberating dawn span across a wasted landscape. A delightful aroma arises like steam. Darkness flees, things begin to grow, the sewers of blood vanish. Life has arrived. In the middle of this land is a towering mountain atop of this is an empty pool, Love lands on the  east side of this, the angel of light [ The devil was an angel + most people wouldn't listen to something devil-ish looking I picture him like so:] with dark blood dripping from his hands, the prince of darkness, crouches on the other side. Into the pool bright blood pours: flowing from the one named Love. The dark Prince trembles and hands Love an ancient looking pair of keys.

"Love" leaves the land. Darkness returns.

On earth it is the hours before light. The weary earth will yet again see a lifeless sun rise, the plants will another day suffocate

with its dying presence. Yet the people are unaware that this day the curtain will tear, that from this day the earth will never be the same again. And yet shepherds lie by their sheep and kings by their treasure -sleeping! 

The sky lightens to a deep purple. A breeze blows across the earth. The trees, plants waters and oceans stir beneath its power.

The wind carries a secret; a promise of change.

And then light, blinding light, rips across the land. You can almost hear the universe laughing with unimaginable joy. The ocean dance frenzied dances of happiness,the earth rumbles with delight and the sky shouts out its pleasure. The very air jumps with excitement.

Love has returned!

It's still hear, right now. Unknown to most is its power, its force and its name: Jesus.

Some are still in the desert of darkness, some are still slaves to another world to a dark force.

Few are in the rain of love, few feel its strong insistent pull.But it is there for anyone should they just see what 

"love" has done for them and repent of their sins, freedom is there, joy is there, peace is there for the broken who ask

So what think you?

Impatiently awaiting your comments

-Tiffany

A song that makes me cry

Yup it's so sweet, its about two people how fall in love and it goes from their first date 'til the night she dies. It's sung by a Christian though he doesn't actually say anything about christianity, more a portrait of marriage.I don't think  it is too 'modern' can't remember long time since I've heard it, all I know is that the singer is a story singer, he sings stories and they make 'one cry
here's the link walking her home

-Tiffany

A Name

More character-ness ; )

Names.

They are *so* important. For writing they are very... useful, but also very annoying.
Your character must have a name that suits him/her- that is very annoying
e.g you don't call a strict teacher a soft floaty name like, Charlotte, it doesn't suit, but Augusta might.

This is way baby name books/sites are very helpful as they tell you the meaning as well, as in if you're looking for a name for your fat, pigish rich old man[who has probably lived in the English court] you could call him Gulliver, because it's English and it means glutton [I have Mr Hurst in mind right now]
  - ;D

This means you must already have a rough idea as to what your character looks like and behaves
this is why I don't usely fill the name in first or haven't found my favourite name.

Well that was quite short I'll do another post I think

Miss Tiffany    

Meet me.

I've decided that this week as I'm allowed to do 1/2 an hour a day of writing on my blog for school work.[It has to be school work related]That I am going to share with you what I know of making up characters.

When you are writing a story you want to make your character as human as possible, nobody likes a know it all, and most scoff over damsels in distress and Prince Perfects.It can be quite hard to make your hero/ine "normal".

A really good tip is not to make her really beautiful, I read a book where the main character was not "beautiful" but "pretty",  it was really interesting as what one noticed about her was her "honey" coloured  eyes and, well her, she went to balls and taught her self to enjoy them, to find new things in the stagnant water of normal.It was really neat to find a different kind of beauty.Anyway...

 "A character prompt sheet"
this is something to use to create your character, but it is a prompt not a fill in the gaps so it is a good idea to write sentences eg Will the reader dis/like  this character: he loves the night his dark features will repel the reader, he'll be my villain e.t.c.

Name:

Age:

Height:

Weight/Build:

Birthplace:

Colour hair/eyes:

Physical peculiarities:

Education:

Married:

Best friend:

Enemies:

Family:

Core need:

Pathological manoeuvre:

Ambition in life:

Gestures when talking:

Gait:

Strongest character trait:

Weakest character trait:

Laughs or jeers at

Philosophy:

Political leaning:

Hobbies:

What others first notice about him/her:

What character does alone:

One line characterisation:

Will reader dis/like character:

Does s/he change in the story? How:
            [your main character should]

Significant event that moulded him/her:

Significant event that illustrates the character's personality:

[In Depth]- not really needed, from NGJ well the top two

Is he a: "King"
           "Preist"
           "Prophet"

Is she a: "Queen"
             "Servant"
             "Dreamer"

Are they a: Teacher
                   Servant
                   Leader
                   Encourager
                   Perciver
                   etc:


You don't actually have to write down all these things.Just the ones you need to paint the out line of your character.If  you have trouble imagining things drawing is a good idea or looking on the internet or in books for what you want be it person , scene or location.

Hope you have fallen asleep or that you have been able to understand me.


-Tiffany

Testimony of a perivous non-writer

Did you know that I didn't always write? That writing is actually pretty new to me?Well it is.

I always  knew I could write, Mum had always said I had a talent for it.I didn't really start with writing though.I remember telling stories, the earliest I can recall was making up a story about a girl who had a jewel, or treasure hidden somewhere and there was all these different things she had to push to get it.That was told at the Lake Daniel's tramp, and a boy heard and he really liked it [boys liking girls stories?]So I guess it was pretty good.

Of course there was DB but though that slowly improved my writing I didn't get any sudden inspirations that sent me leaping about for paper.

I've tried writing in diaries but I can't really stand them, too boring.
I've had private writing lesson but though they helped I forgot most of what I learned.

It changed one night forever and for good.That was the night I confessed my sins [with many a tear] and became a Christian, I was 12.That was the first night I remember scribbling pages and pages of praises in what I call my "God book".

After I got baptized a friend and I had it on our hearts to write for the young girls we knew my reason? So they would have a better start than I did to be more informed than I was.So I started writing.I can't remember what I wrote in the first issue of Jewels of Jesus [JOJ]
but what I do know is that every time after I've written something I've been challenged in my walk with God often for a short time afterward ingnoring Him. 

But I've noticed my stories have gotten better, I don't know what you think, but on top of all the writing studying I've done , at that moment when I get an inspiration all that is forgotten I see what is happening before my eyes and I try and describe what I see as best as I can.But I have to be writing or the story moves on without me. So that is how I write, ask Esther  ;D. I got to go now.   


Miss Tiffany