My Book

A lot of people have been asking me about my book. What is called? What is it about? How long is it? How long have you been working on it? Are any of your characters based off of anyone you know? So I am going to answer as many questions as I can in this post.

1) My book is called Shaken Forever- Banner of the Lord's Army. It is part one of two books. The second will be called Shaken Forever- For the Righteous' Sake.

2) It is about Captain Moroni. I have fictionalized his personal life as well as his famous battles and such. I have created new characters and used real historic figures such as Helaman, Pahoran, Lehi, Teancum, etc.

3) You can keep track of my progress in the length of the book by looking at the right side of the blog.

4) I have been working on this since January 2, 2010. I had a writer's block for 1 1/2 months though (Feb-March).

5) Yes, many of my characters have at least one characteristic from someone I know.
Bradley Meyer-- Captain Moroni-- because he is very open with his opinions on how he feels about the government

Shaelyn Eggers--Helaman's wife-- she is spunky, but very sweet

Mark Lindsey-- Helaman-- because he is quiet, but really smart

Afton Meyer-- Ammoron (Do not take this personally. He is not really a bad guy yet. Just confused by his brother)-- because he is very attracted to the opposite gender and acts like a professional when it comes to them. (not because Afton is a bad guy)

Taylor Lawerence-- Moroni's wife-- I mostly based the character's physical appearance off of Taylor (except the character has blue eyes)

Any other questions? Feel free to ask.

Warm-ups for Writing

Below is a few warm up paragraphs I write before I write a story or and essay. I just write the first words that come to my head. When I warm up like this, my writing is significantly better. You do not have to read it if you don't want to because it's just a bunch of nonsense. I'm just throwing this out there.

There was a time that t’would tell of a teacher whose life and love grew passionately upon the brow of my sentimental heart. As for me I cannot say he was entire hopeless, but indeed he was a bit foppish. T’would seem I’ve been listening to the Scarlet Pimpernel as I am writing in such a manner. Indeed I cannot pretense for the manner of writing essays required at this present moment. T’would seem impossible. I must write about an teacher of influence upon, but t’would seem unreliable as I am but writing any words that slip into my mind. At present moment I cannot recall where any of these should but come from much less where they go. One would think that my life is easy, but it is not so. Poetry is an art and life is a small part of it. As any dramatican would conclude in my own opinion for pleasing it was would readily say anything for the pleasant manner which surrounded him. ‘Tis not impossible as it was said above to write but a simple essay on a teacher, the problematic nature of it all comes from the style need. Impersonation is one of my finest qualities in life, but it would not appear to be so in my essays. As my sentimental values I reprimand there is a small orchard among friends. Nonsense is said and lies are but becoming of light. I’faith that there should be condemned homework on this accursed continent at all. No indeed, there should not be. ‘Tis true I rant and rave with these sentimental values which I hold, it would not be true if I were to be writing sense, is it not so? I trust all is well and take much for granted as I stroll along the keyboard letting out the depths of my very soul. It would not needs be that homework should be liberated upon our backs so as we trudge along with beads of sweat upon our brows. Why follow those rules given by any personage? It would seem only God has command, and that one should not command another whilst upon the planet created for us. Such unsentimental values should lead to laments of sonnets. I prithee that you should’st fly, fly to the stars as those before you. Can you not imagine it so? Does not seem possible no? Indeed the dull processes leading up to the execution of my laments would but arrive soon had it been that th e mother figure should approach. T’would not seem possible but for her. The pretense of these words seem to arrive spurnfully from my listening the my novels. The Scarlet Pimpernel is a delightful blend of such language as used above. can it not be a wonderful way towards happiness? The attention of ears to such promising words can lead to such words as written here. Zounds if there not be an acursed living organism who would not understand my reasons for such idionicy of raspered ways of my inventious words. No, no, t’would not seem so. As I must be a’writing about a teacher, I cannot say that it may turn out in such language as required for an education. No indeed, all reliable witnesses are far from me and praise thy lord not. La! ‘Tis not so easy! It must needs be. Can you not imagine such hopes and dreams to be shattered by such a long line of lines to reel you in? What ho! No it would not seem to be, would it? All philosophies from the four corners of the earth must stand as witnesses against these foolish traditions against an essay such as this. I laugh heartily and pity the fool who should take life in general in all seriousness. Rebellious I may be, but foppish I should not seem to be. Alas I should not!! No indeed. Were there but seven and twenty to take me away thou canst not. I in turn cannot think far past my own sufferings and afflictions. As these words which are written are thumbprints of my laments. What means this love? For he that I love cannot be near as there is none that I love. Such bodacious augments should ne’er be heard. To fail in life is as losing one’s head. To be cut off and drowned from all hypocrisy. I shall count the days of yore when I was once an author of greatness and love of life. I’faith I suspect that’s the reason for this sudden change of heart that has been of late. In consolation to my over-bearings of the mind I must conclude my wistful rave.

Where art thou dog? wherefore art a rose of mine own singing. Canst there not be a peace of mind? Tis not so. Who then can save the dragon of spells in the air t’would not be so how is there no money in the bank? a bleak stress of aggravation would seem inevitable. complicated streams of light withered through her mind. Can you not see the true form of the universe? Leaping and bouncing in the air of joy there is none other better than the mighty one of silver and gold. Violet stripes of linen spiral down to the grassy earth. Indeed, where should they travel afar? Tis impossible said she. Let us gallop into the wind. The heat of the sun on my back gave me the courage to ride against the sheer shame writhing up from the very depths of my soul. can you not see the beauty of charcoal in the eyes of a man in need the quarter of the moon shone brightly without. Who dares to cross the king of shine on in faith. Love the game of spirit. A lowly pit gauged its way in her stomach crawling up her throat. Like a spider skillfully weaves its web through storm and grief. A bed and a lamp is the only sign of life on the deserted planet of cans. Hanging from the wall was a deep purple scarf of sheer design. I cannot imagine a more promising and condemning time than the events which are about to unfold. Let boredom not overcome all other desires of your lonely heart. Deep within the grave sight of grumbles, you cannot imagine the pain of the worms. Where indeed could one as enormous as thou art sing for the life of him? A feathery sword of capable hands swung mightily through the trees. The short cancerous bit of caked mud seeped through her fingers. Hunted, feared, and unbearable. The yellow-orange breakfast of night swept under the bridge at such a pace that the heavens fell. To speak is to open one’s mouth and babble to the point of babbling and no return. Where the wild ones roam free of all rules and restriction. Shameful ways of the kingdom. He didn’t know what movie we were doing, but therefore she answer him without a notion of gerald crossing.

If there were sunflowers in the trees would the water of time be inside the fruits? Can there not be a fly of golly good babes if there is any ape of manly cantaloupe. where the bees walk and the grass hops the food is scarce. in all manner of alameda there can be heavenly hopes of joyful shopping. Chips of green flavor in sandy beaches there is red t-shirts. i don’t know is part of getting through the floundering ways of the gymnast. i’ve let go the need to know the whales’ wires. a bird could follow the sky if they fly the teacher’s lounge. a sombrero could perhaps be but a small step in time. cats from jupiter wear caps of purple spotting heads. smarts deeds forgotten can read the minds of great grandfather. Where the bee’s knees of windy city is mighty dog tired pretty. food processors presents the grand apple of grapes in the very tight yodel. angels we have heard on high sweetly singing. can we see the eyes yellow that boy. beans and cheese on a spree.

Are You Sure You Don't Want a Present?

Last night was my dear friend Angela's birthday party. She invited our prom group down to her house for food and games. (Only three guys came XD). She said that she did not want any presents because she "felt bad for taking your money". *snorts* Whatever :).

So I went and bought her a present anyway. I almost got her a pair of super cute sunglasses, but then I suddenly remembered my birthday party. We had watched The Princess and the Frog. It was her first time seeing it and she absolutely LOVED it. She jokingly said that that was all she wanted for her birthday. Well, luckily I was in Target so I put the sunglasses back and grabbed the DVD.

Later that night at her party she was opening her presents. She got some super cute bags/purses, candy, and goofy little trinkets (these are typical birthday presents amongst our group of friends). My friend Anna, gave her a dream come true... strawberries. She was so happy when she got the strawberries. Mine was the last present to be opened. She almost missed it.

She picked it up, probably expecting candy and pulled the tissue paper from the bag. She looked inside and saw that it was a DVD. She did not pull it out, but instead pushed the sides of the bag out and looked at the cover. Immediately she put her hand down and just held the bag, staring into space. I was not sure what she was thinking. I thought maybe she already had the movie and was ready to offer her the receipt. Then she did something truly shocking... she started to cry. I stared at her confused. She was crying with a smile on her face. I realized that they were happy tears. I started laughing and everyone (all of whom had not not been paying any attention at all) looked at us. Angela pulled the DVD out just to confirm that it really was what she thought it was. I had never seen her so happy about a present.

She gave me the biggest bare hug ever. "Thank you Kelsi! You are awesome!". So are you Angela :)

The Music in Me

Most of us LDS youth constantly hear our leaders tell us that what we listen to and watch can affect the way we think and act. For most of this, it blows over our heads. I have never thought that music really had an affect on me. However, a recent experiment has proved me wrong.

I have been writing a novel for the past couple months. I often get stuck at places where I don't know what to write, or how to word it, etc. A common problem I encounter is that I have trouble thinking like my characters. How would they respond to a certain situation? How would they word their sentences? If one did this, would the other do that? And so on.
One day, I was writing a scene told from the main antagonist's point of view. He is a BAD guy. He is very crafty and deceiving. He appears to be a pleasant sensible man through his lies and "flattering words", but is actually evil to the core. Anyways, the way it was set up was that he was talking to someone on the streets, very subtly trying to persuade the man to do evil. I was having the hardest time! I could not think like he would think I didn't know how to be evil! I was so frustrated. I wrote and rewrote it three times before slamming my pencil down in defeat. With nothing else to do in the school library, I put on my earphones and set my iPod to shuffle. The second song that came on was "Misery" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra from the musical Beethoven's Last Night. If you haven't heard it, it is a devil named Mephistopheles singing about how he will torture a little girl lying on the streets. He has a very sly voice and the music is sneaky and dramatic. Suddenly, I found myself picking up my pencil again and writing. With the dark music in the background, the words flowed freely from my pencil. I knew exactly what to write. The pure evil of this character was coming out on the paper. As soon as the song ended, my writing spree ended. When I started the song over, my writing started again. I kept replaying the song until I finished the scene. Right now, that scene is one of my best so far in my opinion.

I tried this music experiment several more times. I chose music that would set the proper mood for that particular scene. The parts that I listen to music with are my finest scenes I think. I have listened to "Fight a Good Fight" by BYU Singers for triumphant parts. I listen to "Love Story Meets Viva La Vida" by Jon Schmidt or "Falling Slowly" by Kris Allen for romantic scenes. "Butterfly Fly Away" by Miley Cyrus for family scenes. "

This just goes to show that music can affect the way you think. I became "evil" when I listened to Misery. I became hopeful and brave when I listened to FIght a Good Fight. I felt the love when I listened to Love Story Meets... and Falling Slowly. I could just feel the warmth of family through Butterfly Fly Away. Listen to your leaders and read the For Strength of Youth Pamphlet! They know what they're talking about.