All posts tagged writing

Queries (Writing, Love and the Likes)

Published January 25, 2014 by sophiachandler

I attended another beautiful gathering yet once again~

(it seems that I use ‘beautiful’ to describe all the gatherings I attend .-. I wonder why)

but nooooo it WAS fun being there with everyone even though I was giggly and high and had a bit of a lisp/mispronunciation problem going on throughout the whole thing. It was fun trying to tackle two people to the ground and tie them together using a rubber band chains so that they’d be handcuffed for life 😀 and using cheesy pick-up lines on each other and people who blush too easily and shipping people together and getting shipped with people and the guitar and dancing and phone-stealing and revenge and a whole lot of other things.


And when I left everyone including the guys hugged me (that shall be ticked off on my bucket list :D) and I left with warm, fuzzy memories :3

I’d like to know how it’s like to fall in love.

But now I’m home I have to do homework 3: and write my story :(:) and try desperately to develop my characters and MY GOD FINALIZE THEIR NAMES ALREADY SO YOU CAN WRITE and get my storyline straight. If anyone bothers to answer, here are a few questions I have about writing:

  1. How long should a chapter be? As in, approx. how many words/pages (on a Word document)?
  2. How long does it take for the pre-story planning process?




Sneak Peek

Published January 19, 2014 by sophiachandler

So here’s a not-so-small snippet of the fanfic:

“You’re moving?” he asks, a trace of disbelief evident in his voice. His eyes are wide. Whether with disappointment, shock, or both, she doesn’t know, but she notices the way his hands ball into fists at his sides, and then relax once more again.

She can’t even understand why he’s looking so upset. The last time they spoke was in the exact same hallway, a week before, when he’d brushed against her accidentally while they were rushing to get to their classes; her to Biology, him to English. He’d apologized briefly and dashed away in the opposite direction before she could say anything.

“Yeah, I am,” she responds warily. She closes her locker, spins the dial on the lock and picks up her bag, slinging it over one shoulder. She looks up. He stares back at her. She can’t read the emotion on his face. Confusion, maybe? She lifts her chin and returns his gaze with an equally intense look.

She feels like they’re in first grade again, two kids standing beside the swing set, twin stubborn glares on their faces. Their arms crossed, glares leveled, stubbornness emerging.

She almost chuckles a little at the memory. That’s how they met. That’s how they became best friends.

That’s how they aren’t right now. Not in the best terms of friends.

That last statement makes her jolt back into reality. She breaks the connection, dropping her gaze. She turns to leave.

“Where’re you going?”

Rolling her eyes, she turns around. “Home, Declan. Home. You know. The house where I live. Where I eat and sleep.”

“Funny, I thought you lived in a garbage dump, not a house.”

“You done playing twenty questions or can I leave? I have other things to do other than playing games with you all day.”

“ I meant to ask you where you were moving to,” he says, his grin vanishing.

“Portland, Oregon,” she sighs. She hears him gasp slightly.

“Damn… that’s all the way on the other side of the country,” he mumbles.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He’s quiet, letting all this new information process. She watches his face, all scrunched up and confused-looking. She knows that look. For years she recognized it as the confused look Declan got when he was trying to solve a complicated math equation.

His eyes are twin galaxies, still yet to be explored. His eyes were the reason she’d fallen for –

No. Wait. Wait. Her mind’s in a frenzy, trying to banish that piece of information from her mind. She can feel her cheeks heating up and turning scarlet. Alexandra Blanchett has never fallen for Declan Holtman. Ever. No no no scratch that, Alexandra Blanchett has and will never fall for anyone until she graduates from high school.


“You’re blushing,” he says.

“I’m not,” she says hotly.

“You were,” he says, smirking, and she feels the urge to kick him. Preferably, in the balls.

“Was not.”







I’m in love with their relationship. If you can’t tell. It reminds me of Things I’ll Never Say by Avril Lavigne (please go listen to it, I promise it’ll be AWESOME) because of the amount of denial that the two characters have when they’re trying to admit to the fact that they obviously do like/liked each other.

Which is the real thing :3 (I wish)

But I’m getting the feeling that it isn’t turning into a fanfic. It’s this real legit story of hopes and dreams that could possibly become a real tearjerker. And I hope that I’ll be able to stay committed throughout this story, because everything about it makes me want to continue and strive and expand their developing feelings.

If you liked this bit, like this post!


Fanfictions are ALL Cliche

Published January 16, 2014 by sophiachandler

Remember how I mentioned in the previous post how Juniper and I have taken to shipping Alex and Declan? So she’s doing fanart because her drawing is crazy good, and I’m doing a fanfic. Here’s how my blurb looks like:

She’d never thought that she would see him again. She’d never expected him to turn up in the middle of the third-floor hall corridor, the same black square-framed glasses perched atop his nose. She’d never thought that he would emerge in her life the same way he did nearly two years ago.

She’d never thought that she would be foolish enough to fall in love with Declan Holtman.

I think this blurb is pretty good, if I daresay, given the fact that I wrote it under twenty minutes with a little revising at the side after school. But I can’t wait to begin writing this and naming characters (you guys know how much I love naming them) hopefully soon! And together with Juniper’s fanart…. thinking about this makes me want to hug a pillow to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut because I can only imagine the amount of romantic shojo sweetness going on in the next few weeks.

Here’s a rundown of the fanfic:

When Alexandra “Alex” Blanchett moved away from her small hometown of Travers, Maine, she left behind unsaid, lingering feelings of a boy whom she was foolish enough to like, despite her vow that she’d never develop any feelings for anyone until she reached the age of eighteen. Nearly two years later, and she’s starting senior year in Portland, Oregon, with hopes of becoming captain of the Greenbury High soccer team and scraping through her Calculus.

What she doesn’t expect is for Declan Holtman to turn up in the third-floor corridor.

And then from then on there will be awkward, cliche moments; romantic, cliche moments; sad, cliche moments; thrilling, cliche plot twists to keep this a sappy fanfic ❤

But fanfics are supposed to be cliche.

Aren’e they?



Published December 20, 2013 by sophiachandler

I was reading a Tips and Tricks on Wattpad book (I try to read every single one I come across nowadays) when I noticed that one of the tips was to keep a journal/notebook close by so that you could write down all your ideas that would pop up randomly when you least expected it. Especially, the narrator went on to explain, by your bedside, so that you could scribble down something just when an idea struck you before bed and you didn’t want to try and remember in the morning. Or you could use it to record down your dreams too, before you forgot them.

And that got me thinking about my dreams. I have weird dreams. Doesn’t everyone? There’s always this recurring dream that I have of some guy that looks suspiciously like Tarzan wearing nothing but a thong, freefalling with his arms reaching out towards the light at the end of the long rock tunnel he’s falling through. Like Alice In Wonderland. I used to keep having that when I was about six, and it freaked me out.

There’s also another dream that I’ve had recently.

The dream is really. Freaky. I think I must be reading too many Battle Royale wiki pages already. My mind is being possessed by some bloodthirsty spirit.

Anyway, in my dream our entire grade was in a war. And by war I mean soldiers and guns and killing and blood. I saw a lot of blood. I can’t be sure about dead bodies.

I don’t remember the war part, only the post-war stuff. And there was one very vivid part, towards the end of the scene, that I remember really clearly. That part is the freakiest.

So what happened is that towards the end of the war, our side won, and we started collecting bodies and everything, for some reason. The war was taking place in this swampy place, with a river, I think, but there was land on one side and a river and on the other side of the rover, a thick, dense jungle. Bodies that for some reason looked brown and lumpy and human-shaped poop were being fished out of the river and stuff. And then I heard someone call, “Pierre’s (not his real name) dead!”

(Pierre: what I am currently calling the grade genius because of his capability to be amazing in every single freaking subject in class.)

And then we saw him laid out with glasses intact (somehow) and everything. And then we were all shocked, and grieved over his loss for a long time. Then someone cremated his body and made an altar to him.

That’s when I woke up.

At first I went, “Whoa.” And then, because in the morning my brain tends not to work, “why do I hate Pierre so much that I decided to kill him off in my dreams?”

That’s just one small example of how idiotic my brain is during the morning, after an especially mind-numbing class, et cetera. Then there was this other one time after an especially mind-numbing extra lesson (told you!) when I spotted a colleague of my dad, and waved to him. When he didn’t recognize me, I went, “Unh… unh… I’m my father’s… daughter?”

Ahahaha soooo funny.

I sound like Prince Charming in this video clip right here – but I digress.

That aside, my dream would make a very good story. I remember this other ‘group contribution’ story that someone created. But anyways the plot was based on a dream of an alien attack or something, but that was years back. And people had to die, but when we asked the whole grade to contribute no one wanted to offer themselves up for sacrifice. Everyone wanted to write from their perspective. I think I tried to voice the perspective of one of my fashion-obsessed, clean-freak friends, Willow, and mimicked her in the form of a cliche shallow popular teenage girl. And when we were eleven, these two other girls Tori and Harlow (not their real names!) and I wrote a story that was in the form of one of those cliche teen high school novels, with us being the popular clique and the main characters. The novel was basically all about our shallow love lives and partying and teenage awkwardness.

Don’t judge, ‘kay? I mean, we were only eleven and young and naive at the time.

I think now I’ll keep a notebook next to my bed to jot down my story ideas before bed.


P.S. If you want to read a teen fiction novel that will leave you, literally, rolling on the floor in fits of laughter, please check out Not All Blondes Do Backflips by CrayonChomper! I think she’s amazing!


Published December 5, 2013 by sophiachandler

Sorry for neglecting the blog guys…. it’s just that I’ve been busy lately with all sorts of activities, like outings with friends and the like. But now I finally have access to the Internet… and this time round, my post will feature a number of different topics!

1. Fairytales for Wilde Girls by Allyse Near
I’ve finishing reading this book only yesterday evening, and I have to say that it is brillianto. Kudos to Allyse Near, the twenty-four-year-old university student who wrote this ‘bubblegum gothic’ dark fantasy which I love immensely! It’s so magical and dark… when you start reading it you’ll never stop until you finish the book. I especially loved Isola, the sixteen-year-old main character who had blonde hair with rainbow streaks. And in the end there’s a lovely plot twist involving Isola’s sickly mother who is suffering from a mental illness… but I won’t be giving away any spoilers! 😉

2. Ingrid
I wrote this just yesterday, after finishing the book above:


Katherine wanted to be an Ingrid.

Names created images in Katherine’s mind. Mostly color images. Bruno was ochre. Natalie was cyan. Malcolm was a brown, very much like the color made when rain fell into the already-wet soil in Katherine’s backyard and turned it into mud.

Ingrid was a beautiful, deep green. It was the color of sparkling emeralds, of dew that shone on fresh spring leaves,

Katherine was grey.

She couldn’t think of a far less plain-Jane, boring name other than Katherine. Katherine was the very epitome of a bad name choice. Even being called Jane was so much better than being called a dreary, longish name like Katherine. She held this grudge against her late father, dead before she was born. Lesley said he’d picked out this name for her to honor his mother, who too had passed away long before she had been conceived. Other than that, she didn’t hold any other grudges against him.

Yeah… I know. But I just wanted to share it for the sake of doing it.

3. Rejection
My Skype status:
How do you let go?

It’s not what I’m feeling, actually. Let me admit something…. someone recently confessed to me, and because he told some other people, now everyone in our grade knows about it. Well, not everyone, but anyone who is anyone to me knows about it. The result? On a group chat online, everyone’s spamming it with ship names…. ._.

I didn’t want to reject him, because he was a pretty nice guy, and one of my best guy friends, but I kinda had no choice, because I wanted to stop all the madness in the group chat and protect myself too… okay maybe that kinda sounds selfish, but it’s true. I didn’t want either of us to get hurt if it got out of hand.

So I friendzoned him.

I’m changing his name to Jason here. This is how our conversation went:

Me: Jason… to be truthful, I don’t see you as a crush… but I hope we can still be friends. 🙂
Him: Mmhmm.

And then his status turned to something horrendous: Rejection is painful.

UGGGGGGGGGH I don’t know if what I did was wrong…..

4. In Which She Sounds Like A Stereotypical MTV Teenager
MTV Teenager is my term for girls with fake blonde hair, false eyelashes and a faux way of speaking that uses terms like, “Like, OMG, totally, LOL…” Sorry but I am SICK of those people popping up on my Facebook news feed.

And now I’m going to sound like one of them, because I have a ginormous zit on my left cheek and it’s taking forever to disappear! If you guys have any solutions to help it go away…. I’d be very much grateful. And yes I have been using up a lot of pimple cream which smells awful… I don’t know who was the one who said that puberty was the door to a whole new magical world or something, because I am soooo enjoying the ride on the puberty train. *sarcasm* (I’m not very good at it.)

And thus marks the end of this short post!


P.S. Oh the falling snow the falling snow~ I might change my background to something a little more Christmas-themed!

This Feeling Called… Loneliness?

Published November 20, 2013 by sophiachandler

I don’t know what to call this feeling I have.

I imagine that we are all on a tiny landmass out at sea, my friends and whoever’s talking to them in the Facebook chat and me. And I know this seems silly, but I imagine that I’m standing at the very edge of the island, watching them have fun and laugh and goof around and I’m just being me, unsure, shy, awkward, waiting for someone to come along and talk to me.

I try to immerse myself amongst the crowd, but my efforts bounce off them and they’re shaking me off, brushing me, a single speck on their clean shirts, off their shoulders. And I imagine that I’m pushed to the very edge, and the part which I’m standing on is breaking away from the mainland and I’m crying out to rejoin the group, but they’re not listening. I try one last time, in desperation, to grab the shoulder of a friend, but she glances at me with her cool grey eyes and shrugs nonchalantly, shaking me off, running back into the group to rejoin her friends.

I imagine it’s all a dream, but it’s not.