I haven't mentioned the tombstone in a while, mainly because I'm really disappointed in myself. I failed, epically. Last time I went by the construction site, the stone was gone. Yes, gone. I'm about 95% certain that the property owner got sick of waiting for me to do something with it and threw it away. 5% of me thinks that the cemetery went and got it and that's why they never contacted me again. Either way, my quest was a complete failure.
And I thought I was good at things like this. I mean, if video games had any application to real life, this was my kind of thing.
One of my favorite video games is Legend of the Dragoon. I only ever played this game through once, because it wasn't mine. Heck, I've never even owned a Playstation. Anyway, every time I mention this game to someone, I either get a glazed look or, "Are you sure it isn't 'Dragon'?" as a response.
I am positive it's not "Dragon."
It may have been a long time ago, but I was briefly obsessed with this game to the point of making my own Legend of the Dragoon coloring pages.
Yesterday on a whim, I searched Tumblr for Legend of the Dragoon, just to see what would come up.
There's a whole fandom! It's not just me! And now I really want to play that game again, because I really don't remember most of it.
Games like these are what inspired me to start writing The Culling in the first place. Actually, it was a specific iphone game called Summoners War. I ended up uninstalling it because it took up too much space, but it got me thinking a lot about the Healer as an archetype. The Healer is interesting because they tend to be really weak, sometimes to the point where it's frustrating. You need them to keep everyone else alive, but they don't do much and always die during difficult battles.
Healers - can't live with them, can't live without them.
So the idea that the Healer is the main character seemed interesting. Healers aren't usually the hero, they're just the support staff.
I've reformatted The Culling series so it's now one normal sized book with three sections. I also added a prologue. Now I know it would make sense to post a teaser from the chapter I just added to Wattpad (formerly ch 4, now ch 33), but I'm much more excited about sharing my brand new prologue:
And I thought I was good at things like this. I mean, if video games had any application to real life, this was my kind of thing.
One of my favorite video games is Legend of the Dragoon. I only ever played this game through once, because it wasn't mine. Heck, I've never even owned a Playstation. Anyway, every time I mention this game to someone, I either get a glazed look or, "Are you sure it isn't 'Dragon'?" as a response.
I am positive it's not "Dragon."
It may have been a long time ago, but I was briefly obsessed with this game to the point of making my own Legend of the Dragoon coloring pages.
Yesterday on a whim, I searched Tumblr for Legend of the Dragoon, just to see what would come up.
My people! |
Games like these are what inspired me to start writing The Culling in the first place. Actually, it was a specific iphone game called Summoners War. I ended up uninstalling it because it took up too much space, but it got me thinking a lot about the Healer as an archetype. The Healer is interesting because they tend to be really weak, sometimes to the point where it's frustrating. You need them to keep everyone else alive, but they don't do much and always die during difficult battles.
Healers - can't live with them, can't live without them.
So the idea that the Healer is the main character seemed interesting. Healers aren't usually the hero, they're just the support staff.
I've reformatted The Culling series so it's now one normal sized book with three sections. I also added a prologue. Now I know it would make sense to post a teaser from the chapter I just added to Wattpad (formerly ch 4, now ch 33), but I'm much more excited about sharing my brand new prologue:
It had happened slowly over time. It wasn't that she was necessarily sad, just one day she stopped caring about work, hobbies, or even washing her hair. A stillness filled her brain and time seemed to slow until she was almost unaware of its passing. For over a year she just existed, living in her childhood bedroom at her parents’ house, staring blankly at movies with plots she couldn't follow.It was her mom who finally had enough. Lord knows, she had tried. Tried to get her daughter into therapy, tried to find her a job, tried to get her to volunteer, return to school, to do anything. Her mom’s final act of desperation came through the mail, a cardboard box that made a satisfying thunk when turned on its side.Inside were two plastic boxes: a clear clamshell with a watch and a plastic game box with a desert scene on the front. Underneath the boxes sat something that looked a little like a motorcycle helmet, covered with warning labels. “NOT APPROVED FOR TREATMENT OF MENTAL ILLNESS OR CHEMICAL DEPENDENCY,” yelled one. “MAY INCREASE THOUGHTS OF VIOLENCE,” declared another.Puzzled she turned the helmet over in her hands. Perhaps her mother was also losing touch with reality. Or perhaps this was one of those experimental therapies. She lifted the helmet over her head, a final warning label catching her eye: “MAY RESULT IN FEELING ALIVE.”