Elizabeth R. Joseph's Blog, page 2

10 things that were in TR (or POM) and 1 that is.

Vera was named Jessie. Her name was ultimately changed because now Jessie is a relatively common name with connotations I did not want to keep.
There was a king. He was Joshua, and ultimately useless.
Karrie was two characters, Persee and Karrie, and Persee served no ultimate purpose so the two characters became one.
Twin Reflections was called The Palace of Mirrors, which wasn’t really applicable except for way back when.
Karima (who served Karrie’s basic purpose) was a part of a triplet set. Charna was her other triplet (thought to be twin), who was like Dalena, and a servant named Mucio who made some poison with smoke and amber? This was back when I used Google Translate for Latin so I could be Latin-y.
Everyone had armbands that revealed their intentions. In the first draft of first drafts, it was explicitly clear Vera, then Jessie, and Mark were the children of Missena (then Misseva) and Joshua, because they had armbands! Each had a term in Latin explaining a character trait (Misseva had fidelius/faithful which was really not good), and Jessie had something regalis (royal blood) while Mark had noble blood? Again, fifth grade me was a tiny being who tried.
Vera and Mark were very fraternal twins who were not brown. Jessie was pale, turquoise-eyed (because she’s special, okay?), and had straight black hair. Mark was brown-eyed and had brown curly hair, mixing the traits of Joshua and Misseva.
The “book” ended with the reunited family staring into the sunset. No joke.
The sequel (Key of Secrets, which very few have read and which no one should ever read ever), featured Leina (then Leyna, which I changed because of Heroes of Olympus ship names) as the avatar. I was easily influenced.
Jessie and David were love interests and so were Mark and Leyna. No further comment.

1. The maze IS sentient. That is all I have to say on that.

Why I Write

The answer is clear. I have thoughts and stories that I want to express. That was how I started writing, I wanted to tell stories. I had these specific ideas of what I wanted to have in a story, and I wrote them down with characters who were hollow, and I shared them. Twin Reflections was first shared on a blogging website my computers teacher used to teach us, back in fifth grade, but the first piece of it came into being on a piece of notebook paper at my JCPRD (after school care), and it was because I had a very literal cliffhanger.

TR isn’t the first thing I’ve written, but it was the first story that exceeded a few pages. I have many drafts in my bedroom right now, some that I had lost but are still here, and other locked in my drawer. I had a specific idea in my mind, and I wanted to write it down.

Now, I write for different reasons. Recently I realized something. I like art and I like drawing, and I work on it, but I’m not incredible at it in that I can’t express or evoke what some great artists can: a set of feelings in a specific time that they put in art. Sometimes drawing is one pencil stroke after another, but sometimes it’s wanting to express what you feel in a way palatable to a consumer of art. Music does that too, sometimes. I don’t think pop songs are the end of music because they display what musicians want in a failing world – bubbly happiness, love and lust, in a short period of time. You get a look into their life in two minutes, or you feel good about yourself for longer than that. And the more people that write a piece of music, the wider a human experience you can get.

Writing stories is a little different. I’m fourteen and I come from a relatively privileged background. My family is upper middle-class (I think). I don’t try to make a living because I’m lucky enough that right now, I don’t need to. For me, I try to write to convey experiences I’ve had by translating them another way. So dry leaves clicking across pavement, or sunlight shining through green leaves even as they overlap, or ideas about humanity that I’m still developing. Writing is the only way I know how to express those things. And I know people will inevitably think it’s lackluster and unsolid and it sucks, but I can only get better at sharing life experiences. One thing I know I have to be capable of is change, because if I’m not, then I would still write the workings of a fifth grader. I can only get better, because even if things and writings suck, it’s all the better for still continuing to try.