This is impossible...

I remember going to a book signing for an author that I admire so much. My brother, Peter, and I were the last in line to have our book signed. There he was--a genius of a man, with a really cool white beard and twinkling eyes that spoke so much. We heard him speak earlier, and we have never had such a good time. We got a glimpse into the mind of the creator of our favorite books. I remember perfectly--he signed our books, and then he asked Mom to photograph us three--him, Peter, and I--all holding hands.

That man was Brian Jacques, and he died on February 5th of a heart attack.

Here is his website: Brian Jacques: The Official Website

"A mouse is small and can go unnoticed: but there is no limit to what a brave heart and a fearless spirit can achieve."--Brian Jacques

Hehe, I'm in the advertizing buisness!

Introducing a new contest that I have gotten myself into...*drumroll*

You want to go to a really great blog? Then go HERE, to The Cornet Crazie's! When you go, and when you decide that you like it and follow it, leave a comment and tell her that I sent ya!

Thanks, y'all!

Izori

A real, live post (basically, not a scheduled one) in which I learn something!! (Wow, that's a shocker)

Behind our church there's a small area--I wouldn't even call it woods--but it has some trees, and it's really quite peaceful. So after church, I grabbed the notebook that I'm writing Sarea in and went in the not-quite-woods area. Well, it was rather popular, it seemed, that day. There was a berry fight with the boys, and then a lassie who's friends with Luthien and me (who for the sake of naming her, I'll call her Arìlì, after an Elven princess in Sarea) came up and asked me what I was doing.

"I'm writing," I replied.

"Really? About what?"

"A girl. Named Ehra." You can notice that my sentences never exceed two words.

"Cool! You could have it that she lives near a forest that is so tangled and twisted, that no one who enters there will ever come out again! It's owned by this wizard..."

And Arìlì goes on to tell me a complicated story, full of double plots and lost little boys and wizards and the wife of the wizard who bakes cookies for him. It ends with a soldier getting poisoned, by the way. And she's ten.

Even though I wrote a total of four words, I have discovered that Arìlì could very well grow up to be a writer.

Izori