Jacqueline E. Smith's Blog, page 40

#YesAllWomen

I make it a point to never present myself as a victim.  I make my own choices, I take the cards that I have been dealt in my life, and I try my best to play them as well as I can.  I know that on blogs like these, the ones that we use to try to get our names or books or photography out there, a certain level of anonymity and aloofness is a good thing.  Here, on my blog, I am a bright, spunky, somewhat off-beat yet optimistic young author.  I love Harry Potter and Benedict Cumberbatch and I like writing ghost stories.  I try to present the very best of myself on this blog.  The heavy stuff, the stuff that gets me down or that weighs on my mind, I normally don’t discuss on here, because, in a way, it’s better not to acknowledge them.  After all, this blog is about trying to spread the word about my books, not the heavy stuff.  

However, this #YesAllWomen movement has got me thinking.  Maybe it’s okay to be open about the personal stuff, the serious stuff, every once in a while.  In past trending topics, I haven’t had a whole lot to contribute.  This time, I just might have a few things to say.

I’ve never been what one would call a hardcore feminist.  Do I believe in equal rights for all in spite of gender, race, or orientation?  Of course.  But do I still like it when guys hold doors for me?  Duh.  I don’t like misogyny, but I don’t have a problem with little girls wearing pink or idolizing Cinderella.  If a little girl (or boy for that matter) would rather be a Princess than a scientist, well then let the kid dream! But then again, this isn’t really a discussion about feminism.  This is a discussion about what it’s like to be a woman in a society in which being a woman isn’t always safe.  

I’ve never felt safe walking by myself at night.  It’s just a fact.  And it’s always been my normal.  Whenever I have to walk somewhere alone after dark, I always call someone to talk to until I reach my destination.  Always.  I walk with my keys in hand.  I’m constantly glancing around to make sure no one is following me or watching me.  Overactive imagination?  Paranoia?  Perhaps.  But when I was in grad school, a young girl was attacked on my campus one night.  Her throat was slit.  She was alone.  It happens in real life.  It’s not just a scary story.  

I’m one of the lucky ones.  I’ve never been attacked.  I’ve never been raped.  

I have been harassed.  It was terrifying, but it’s not something I talk about very often, because, to be honest, I’m ashamed of it.  It embarrasses me.  I tell myself, “Oh, it’s not a big deal.  Nothing happened.  You got out fine.  Besides, it makes you sound like a slut.”

How messed up is that?  I was cornered by a man that I don’t know, who was twice my size, who touched my hair and my shoulder and told me to come back to him to his hotel room, and yet I’m the one who ends up feeling like it was my fault, that I’m the sleazy one because of it.  It’s just something that’s been engraved in our minds.  He didn’t do anything wrong.  It must have been something I was doing, or I did, and I don’t want people to find out about it or else they’ll think I’m dirty somehow.  If these are the thoughts that come from being unwillingly cornered, I can’t even imagine what other young women who have been raped or attacked feel.  

I do believe that most men are good.  I don’t blame them.  I love all the guys I know and I know I can trust them.  I’m not sure how men feel walking to their cars at night, if they ever feel apprehensive or that they have to run or talk to someone on the phone in order to feel safe.  But that’s just how it is for us.  

Love to all.  

I Do, Augustus. I Do.

Yesterday, my sister and I attended a pre-screening of The Fault in Our Stars.  It was everything I hoped it would be.  Funny, quirky, romantic, and best of all, it stayed as true to the book as a film adaptation really can.

This was the kind of event where just because you made an email reservation, it didn’t guarantee you a spot in the theater, so my sister and I decided to get there three hours early.  This was a wise decision.

There was already a line forming, but fortunately, we got there early enough to wait inside.  Before long, the line was out the door and curving around the building.  Needless to say, this was not our first pre-screening/early release.  We’ve been to several midnight releases, including most of the Harry Potter movies, Catching Fire, and The Hobbit.  It’s fun to be a nerd.

Thankfully, we both came prepared for a three-hour wait.

About an hour before the movie was due to start, they began letting a few people in at a time to choose their seats.  My sister and I were fortunate enough to get seats right in the middle of the theater.

The movie, needless to say, was phenomenal.  Definitely worth the three hour wait.  I always get nervous with book-to-movie adaptations, especially when it’s a book I really love and that I’ve treasured, because they very rarely completely satisfying.  There are always little disappointments.  “Oh, they left out this character or this line or this scene.”

There were a few scenes that were noticeably left out that I would have loved to see, but for the most part, it was an excellent adaptation.  I loved Amsterdam.  I loved Willem Dafoe as Peter Van Houten.  I loved Shailene and Ansel.  Oh my gosh, I love Ansel.

Look at this kid!  He’s adorable!  And wow, can he act!  In the scene where he tells Hazel… well, I won’t spoil it if you haven’t read the book, but most fans will know which scene I’m talking about.  Oh my goodness, he broke my heart.  That’s when the tears began and they didn’t stop until the end of the movie.

The tears began to fall the way you fall asleep… slowly and then all at once.

I thought they would stop once the credits began rolling, but of course “All of the Stars” by Ed Sheeran is the first song you hear and oh my gosh, that just made me cry harder!  It’s such an amazing and beautiful song.  They lyrics give me chills every time.

“So can you see the stars over Amsterdam?”

So beautiful and it hurts so much.

One of the best parts of the night, however, was when the staff went around and gave everyone over 21 a glass of sparkling champagne, the same drink that Hazel and Gus drink on their date in Amsterdam.  Now, I do not like champagne, or anything bubbly or fizzy.  Carbonation stings my mouth and throat and I do not like that.  However, I was not about to pass up the opportunity to share that moment with two of my favorite fictional characters.

Tasting the stars.

The book, the movie, the story… it’s just a beautiful work of art.  A beautiful work of human nature.  I really want to read the story of the girl who inspired it, This Star Won’t Go Out by Esther Grace Earl.

If you haven’t read The Fault in Our Stars, I highly recommend it, especially if you plan on seeing the movie.  Even if you don’t plan on seeing the movie, it’s just such an amazing book.  Nothing I say will ever do it justice.

The Fault

I just returned home from a pre-screening of The Fault in Our Stars.  To quote author John Green, I have lost the ability to even. 

More coherent thoughts tomorrow. 

Okay?  

Okay.  

The Bee Story

Yesterday was very busy and today is going to be very busy, but I do not want to ignore my blog for two days straight.  I really don’t have very much to say, so I thought I’d tell a story instead.  It’s a short story, but it’s one that makes me laugh every time.  I was not there to experience it.  My friend told it to me.  

Basically, she knew this guy.  I don’t remember his name, so let’s just call him Doug.  Doug was having a terrible day, and he was telling everyone about his terrible day.  Just as he was listing off every terrible thing that had happened to him, “I failed this test and then I spilled my lunch and then my girlfriend broke up with me…” a bee flew up his shorts and stung him on the butt.  

I’m not sure what the moral of this story is, but I do feel very sorry for Doug, whoever he is.  I hope his life has vastly improved since that fateful bee sting.     

The end. 

Quick Monday Update

Hello, all.  

Just a quick update for today.  This morning, I received the PCN for Between Worlds.  Having secured the ISBN and barcode also, things are really starting to come together!  I’ve spent most of the day beginning to format the manuscript for publication, and let me tell you, it is taking a while.  Formatting always takes a while.  

So now, on the grand journey to publication, all I’m really missing is a summary for the back of the book (I’m TERRIBLE at those, by the way), and the cover itself.  I’ve been in communication with my cover designer, and I’m REALLY hoping I’ll be able to share the front cover with you all on June 1!  

In the mean time, I have added Between Worlds to GoodReads, but it’s not really all that impressive because it is lacking A) a summary and B) a cover.  But oh well.  At least it’s there.  

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22095545-between-worlds

Have a pleasant evening, all! 

Godzilla: A Very Girly Review

Okay, so I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  I’m a girl.  I like girly things like Disney Princesses, kittens, and Nicholas Sparks novels. I’m not really into manicures or shopping, but as far as movies and books go, I am 100% girly girl.

That being said, my sister, who is home from college for the summer, really wanted to see Godzilla.  I’m not opposed to a summer blockbuster action flick, but I’d be lying if I said it would be something I’d be lining up to see if someone else hadn’t suggested it.  The Fault in Our Stars on the other hand… I already have reservations for a pre-screening and I will be camped out for hours to make sure I get those seats.  See the difference?

Anyway, my sister likes destruction and she likes summer blockbusters and she LOVES Bryan Cranston, so she really really wanted to see Godzilla.

I do not have much experience with the worlds most infamous giant lizard.  In fact, I’ve only seen one Godzilla movie in my life, the 1998 production with Matthew Broderick.  I thought it was a pretty decent movie.  Now, do I remember most of it?  No.  All I really remember is Godzilla was just looking for a place to lay her eggs.  Then her babies hatched, the humans blew them up, and Godzilla came back and was all sad and nuzzling her dead babies and it made me cry.  And Matthew Broderick was in it.

That’s just kind of how action movies work in my head.  Giant lizard destroys stuff.  Sad dead babies.  Guy who plays Simba.

I actually remember the plot of the new Godzilla, so while it’s fresh on my mind, I thought I’d do a little review/commentary.  Please keep in mind that I am not a very experienced reviewer and that I think I’m really funny.  Also, if you have not seen the new Godzilla and do not want spoilers, please do not continue reading, or if you do, proceed with caution.

*Note* These thoughts are not in any particular order.  Just thoughts I had throughout the movie.  Most of them had to do with comparing the new Godzilla with my scattered memories of the 1998 one.  Enjoy.

Thoughts on Godzilla

* The opening credits are really cool.  I don’t remember the other movie’s opening credits, so +1 to the new version.

* Juliette Binoche is in this?!  Yay!  I love her!

* Juliette Binoche is already dead?  Boo.  I like the other movie better.

* That guy (older Ford) looks way too young to have a five-year-old kid.

* And his wife really looks like an Olsen twin.

* Bryan Cranston, you are the best part of this movie so far.

* This looks like a zombie movie.

* I wish there were zombies in this movie.

* OMG the Godzilla egg is hatching!

* WTF that’s Godzilla?

* Why is Godzilla a giant flying bug thing?

* Oh, that’s not Godzilla.

* Bryan Cranston is DEAD?!  Why am I watching this movie?

* I don’t even know what’s happening with this bug thing.

* Holy cow, the wife is Elizabeth Olsen!  Mary-Kate and Ashely’s little sister!  What the heck!

* She’s too young to have a five-year-old.

* Oh okay, there’s the real Godzilla.

* That makes a lot more sense.

* Though this Godzilla is kind of fat.

* And he has a really tiny head.

* He’s kind of disproportional.

* I like the old Godzilla better.

* He looks like a dinosaur.

* I wish this was Jurassic Park.

* Ew, gross, now there are TWO of those giant bug things.

* EW THE NEW ONE HAS EGGS OMG.

* So now these giant mutant nuclear-radiation-eating bug monsters are traveling across the world to spawn.

* And Godzilla is rising up out the sea to eat them.  Because that’s what he eats.

* So really none of these creatures are evil.  They’re just all acting on their natural instincts.

* Still, they’re wreaking havoc, which is going to be a HUGE mess to clean up.

* I still can’t believe the wife is Elizabeth Olsen.

* I feel so old.

* The bug mutant monsters really seem to love each other.

* That’s kind of cute.

* Why do their eggs glow?

* WTF why does Godzilla breathe radioactive blue fire?!

* Can all the Godzillas do that?

* Is Godzilla secretly a dragon?

* I wish he was a dragon.  I love dragons.

* It’s kind of sweet that the Mom mutant bug monster is so sad that her eggs died, but I’m not entirely convinced that it’s the kind of creature that would care about her offspring.  Do most bugs care for their larvae?  Or whatever?

* I feel like they spawn just to continue on with the species, not out of any sort of affection for their kids.  That might just be my interpretation, however.

* I’m also really not convinced that Godzilla and Ford share a special moment.  Godzilla is just trying to eat the bug monsters.  That’s what he does to survive.  He’s not trying to act heroic and save the citizens of the world from the evil moths or whatever.  He doesn’t care.

With all of that in mind, my favorite Godzilla is…

Oh.  Well, that’s awkward.

Sorry, Godzilla.  Better luck next time!

 

Confessions and Stereotypes

Whenever I meet a new person and tell them that I’m a writer, that I write novels, they invariably say something along the lines of, “Wow… you have a lot of patience!  Wow, you must be dedicated.  Oh man, you must be smart.”  

All of those are great assumptions, but I always feel like sort of a faker, because the truth is I just like writing stories.  It’s not something I do because I have this amazing sense of self-discipline or I’m just super jazzed about conjunctions and prepositions (to be honest… I’m not sure I know what those are).  It’s something I do because I enjoy it, because I would actually be miserable if I didn’t get the stories in my head out on paper.  

That’s not to say I’m not smart (kind of) or dedicated.  I’m very dedicated to what I do.  But I have like, zero patience for a lot of what it involves.  I’m terrible at grammar, which is probably the most humiliating part.  I don’t want people to read my grammar errors that I post here on this blog or on my Twitter and think, “Oh, she’s dumb.  She must be a terrible writer.”  I think I’m actually a pretty decent writer.  I love my stories and my characters.  I’m just not great at the technicalities.  But hey, that’s why my editors are such an important part of my life!  They are brilliant.    

I don’t write because I have something to prove.  I write because it’s fun and because I have found more joy and meaning in the books that I’ve read throughout my life than pretty much anywhere else.  I hope one day, I can pass that gift along.  

 

 

Just a Touch of Fanfiction

Back before I realized I wanted to write books, I wrote for fun.  I wrote for fun a lot.  And most of what I wrote… was fanfiction.

I will admit it, some of that fanfiction is floating around somewhere online, but no, I will never tell you where to find it.  If you think you’ve found it, I will deny it.  Even if you actually do find it, I will never admit that it’s mine.

That being said, I haven’t dabbled in serious fanfiction for a while.  Ever since I started writing my own stories, I’ve focused more on them than anything else.  However, every once in a while, I need more of a story.  I need to know what happens to a certain character.  After I finished reading the seventh Harry Potter, I had to rewrite the Battle of Hogwarts to make sure Fred survived.  After all, there was no funeral, there was no burial.  There’s no one to tell me that George Weasley didn’t figure out a way to save his twin.

In this instance, I needed a reunion.  I’ve been reading and rereading The Fault in Our Stars in preparation for the upcoming movie.

*WARNING*  This next section includes SPOILERS.  PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Ever since the first time I read it, I wanted to see Hazel back with Gus, even though that meant she had to die also.  But in this case, I don’t think death would be so much of a tragedy as a relief.  We knew going in that the character Hazel is destined to die prematurely.  For me, characters have always existed beyond their pages.  Even though she survives the novel, we all know that her time is coming.  It’s a bittersweet idea.  Sad, because no one wants to say goodbye to such a wonderful and extraordinary character.  Uplifting, though, because she’ll be with Gus again.

I’m sure fanfictions like this already exist, but I sort of wanted to pay homage and honor not only these characters, but John Green as well, by writing out my own reunion scene.  I tried my best to replicate Green’s exquisite style and unique voice, but I’m afraid I fall short.  This was written very quickly, on a complete whim, and is by no means a masterpiece.  Most of all, it was written for me, because, as a fan and a reader, I needed more of these characters, and I wanted them to be together again.

All characters and circumstances in this short fiction are based off of the characters of John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars.  I am not making any money off of this blog and I claim no authority.  It’s just something I wrote for fun.

An Untitled TFIOS Fanfiction

I was adrift on a soft silver haze.

This was it.

I wasn’t afraid.  Or perhaps it was the effects of the drugs and chemicals swirling and circling through my fragile system that made me not afraid.  Either way, it was sort of nice.  I’d known death was coming for me for years.  Ever since the doctors basically told me it wasn’t a matter of “if” but “when,” I’d spent a decent portion of my time thinking about death.  When you know it’s coming, it’s kind of hard to not think about it.

“Hazel?  Can you hear me, Sweetie?”  My mom’s voice sounded far away.  I wanted to answer her, but my body couldn’t remember how to talk.  My body couldn’t even remember how to take a breath.  That’s what happened when your lungs sucked at being lungs.

But now, it wasn’t just my lungs.  It was everything.  My body had survived (and I use that word very loosely) on too little oxygen for too long.  My miracle had finally run its course.

Some might not consider it much of a miracle.  Dying at 18, right at the age when life is really supposed to start, is hardly miraculous.  But the wonder drug Philanxifor had bought me years, five extra years that I most definitely would not have had otherwise.  For me, for my family, that was a miracle.

I won’t lie to you and say it had been enough, because it hadn’t.  But do any of us ever really have enough time?  I mean really enough time to do all the things we want to do.  No matter how long we live, it will never be long enough.  Men who have lived 90 years look back on their time here on Earth and lament, “Life is too short.”

I happen to agree with them.  But there’s nothing I, or anybody else, can do about that.

“Hazel, Sweetie, it’s okay.  Daddy and I are here with you.  We love you.  We love you so much.  It’s okay to let go.”

Let go.

If only I could.  My body has been trying to die for years and yet, one thing or another always pulls it back from that deep, dark chasm of infinite darkness, of oblivion.  What waits for me.  For all of us.  I can’t say for certain I know what’s coming.  I wish I could.  I’m supposed to believe in Heaven, in an afterlife, in becoming a ghost, but I don’t know if I do.

Of all the answers mankind has come up with over the years, why is the one great mystery of life, as old as time itself, the one that remains unsolved?  What happens after death?  Where do we go?  What becomes of our conscious minds, if anything at all?

Oblivion.  There it is again.  That deep, dark nothingness that the one true love of my life so greatly feared.

Augustus.  

It’s my turn now, Gus.  

My turn to say goodbye.  My turn to lie in a box lined in white satin.  My turn to have loved ones standing over me, whispering their final words of goodbye to ears that can no longer hear.  My turn for oblivion.

In my mind’s eye, I see him.  Those blue eyes, that crooked smile, all the delightful details that made him so wonderfully Augustus.  He’s so close, so clear, I feel I could reach out and touch him, but I can’t bring my arms to move.  They’re pinned down to my side, still stuck inside the dying shell that should be my 18-year-old body, but what instead serves as a cage, a cell, a tomb.

“Come on up, Hazel Grace.  I promise you, the clouds are fine.”

I know the voice in my head isn’t really Augustus.  I mean, I don’t think it is.  My thoughts are so foggy that it’s difficult to tell what’s real and what isn’t.  But the Augustus    I know and love would never abide a Heaven so cliche.  Clouds?  What next?  Golden halos and white feathered wings?

“Hazel?”

Something is wrong with my mother’s voice.  She sounds like she’s trying not to panic.  I want to ask what’s wrong, but I can feel myself slowly detaching, drawing farther and farther away from her.  Is this what death is?  It doesn’t feel like an ending.  More like a transition.

“Hazel, Sweetie, it’s okay.  Just go.  Just let go, Baby.”

And so I do.

At first, there’s nothing, an impossible and vast nothingness.  I don’t know where I am, or if there is an up or a down, or I even still exist.  And yet, if I am experiencing this grand sense of nothingness, then I must exist.  I couldn’t experience if I was simply part of that nothing, that great void at the end of all things and places and time.

Then, just like that, there’s not nothing.  There’s a light.  A painfully cliche light, but it’s there nonetheless.  I don’t know where it’s leading me.  I only know I’m supposed to follow it.

As the light grows closer and brighter, the nothingness around me begins to fade away.  Soon, all that I know is the bright, blinding brilliance of the Light of all light.  For the first time in years, nothing hurts.  I smile and close my eyes, savoring the feeling.

When I open them again, I’m standing by a stream, in a garden of bright vibrant flowers.  Tulips.  Orange and maroon and yellow and purple and white.

It the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.  And yet, it’s not one that I recognize.  But that’s alright.  I’m not alone.

“Hazel Grace.”

He strolls toward me, gracefully, no limp.  He’s wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt.  His eyes are extra blue here.  He’s smiling, not that charming, crooked smile that I fell in love with so easily, but a big, bright, genuine smile.

“Augustus,” I whisper, blinking back tears.  What happened to that no tears past the gate nonsense?

He doesn’t seem to mind though.  I suspect he’s been waiting for me.  He holds out his hands.  I take them, and he pulls me into his arms, into his strong, familiar embrace.  Then, he brushes my short hair away from my face and looks me in the eye.

“Welcome home, Hazel Grace.”

Pictures and New Reviews

Hi, everyone!

I wanted to share the pictures from my session last week with outstanding DFW photographer, Kaylynn Krieg!

This is one of my favorite pictures from the shoot, and the one I’m using for all my accounts.  There’s a different one I love that I’ll be using for my picture in the back of the new book, but I’ll share that one later.  For now, I just wanted to post the link to Kaylynn’s website, not only to show off my pictures (I do like them a lot though!), but to let you see her other work.

http://www.kaylynnkrieg.com

You can also like her page on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/kaylynnkrieg...

Her style is so beautiful, so soft and natural.  That’s what always drew me to her photographs and why I asked her to do my new head shots.

I’m also excited to announce that Cemetery Tours is up to 41 great reviews on Amazon!  I just need 9 more by July 1 to reach my goal!

Newest reviews include…

I’ve also recently posted a review for my friend, James William Peercy’s book, The Wall Outside.  You can find the review here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

That’s all for now, I guess!  Back to work on Between Worlds!

Talk to y’all soon!

Weekend Recovery

Hello, friends!  Happy Tuesday.  

I’m afraid these last few days, I have been rather lazy.  I spent half the day Friday and most of Saturday up at Texoma, working at a labor of love event at my old Camp.  I had a great time, reconnecting with old friends and making new ones.  I especially loved being back at a place I hold so near and dear to my heart.  

For the record, all of these pictures were taken on my iPhone.  I didn’t take my camera since we spend most of our time working.  

This was my first Labor of Love weekend, and it was a wonderful experience.  It was a chance to work with members of our community, several of whom had been through tough times, and to listen to their stories.  I’m also thankful for the chance to do something good for a place and people that I love as opposed to what I normally do, which is whatever I feel like doing, mostly for me.  

One of my absolute favorite things about being at Camp is sitting out under the night sky and looking at the stars.  There, away from the city light pollution, the universe opens up, and you can really appreciate how vast and endless the sky really is. It’s a wonderful experience, to just be, to listen to the wind and the trees and the night crickets.  It’s a great reminder that life isn’t all hustle and bustle and money and material things.  

The next morning, we woke up at 6:30, ate a quick breakfast, and went to work.  Our task for the day was clearing out dead brush and tree limbs (and whole trees!) from the pathway to the low ropes course.  There were two separate bonfires for the brush.  One was pretty much the most impressive fire I’ve ever seen.  It was huge, basically the size of a small room.  The other fire, while pretty, was not nearly as impressive.

Although altogether a very worthwhile and rewarding experience, there are things that happen when you work in the woods all day.

1) You get dirty.  Like, really dirty.  Filthy.  The good thing is everyone around you is just as dirty and smells just as bad as you do.

2) You get bug bites.  Even if you wear bug spray, chances are, you will still come home with bites all over your body.

3) You get scratched up.  Trees are scratchy!  Briar thorns are even scratchier!  I’d rather drag a whole tree up a hill than carry a bush of that prickly mess.

4) You twist muscles that you didn’t even know you had.  I haven’t been able to walk properly on my left ankle since I got home.  Instead of bending outward like I rolled it, however, it bends inward.  Weird.  

5) You come home extra sleepy from all the sun and working and pass out for about 48 hours while your body recovers.

However, I’m happy to report I’ve come home to all good things.  I will fill you all in soon, I promise!  Until then, I need to keep revising and working on the blurb for the back of the new book.  July 1 is fast approaching!  

Love to all!