weathered things

The Useless Etymology of a Name A Vignette About my Name and its History The meaning changes whenever I look it up. One day it means peace, another it means olive branch, and yet the meaning behind the meaning stays the same: peaceful, weak. Throughout my life, the peace forced upon me by my name has led to injury—emotional and physical. The moment I began to be referred to as Olivia, it twisted me. My nature was calm, demure, matching my name, matching my blonde hair, matching my pale skin, and my pale attempts at strength. It was not always supposed to be a delicate word. The name was stolen from my great grandmother, Lila. Her middle name was a mystery, only known as O. My parents assigned the name Olivia to it, and, in her honor, assigned the name to me. Only after it was set in stone was it revealed that the O I was named after was Olive, not Olivia. A disgusting, sour fruit that very few have a taste for. While the fruit was not fully assigned as my name, it stayed as ...

So, for those of you who know about this, I am part of an international writing collaboration called Project Canvas . Project Canvas is a book for teen writers by teen writers, and in it we all share tips, tricks, relatable author life content, and how-to's (of course, all of them have very open possibilities since everyone writes differently. It is merely to give help to those who want it). My chapter in this book is called The Human Behind the Gun... and it is all about crafting a great villain. So, in this little post, you get a glimpse of my chapter and ten the headers in the chapter! Hope you enjoy it and buy the book when it comes out––I hope you all enjoy the book too. | | | DRAWN TO DARKNESS. We all love good a good villain. Some we love, some we hate, some we love to hate, and some we hate to love. But the villain we are presented with on the page or screen is just the product of layers and layers of planning. Sad backstories are only the basics, and sometim...

The way the humid summer nights Clings to your skin, To your breath, To your soul, Capturing you and instilling magic Held by millions of fireflies Into your being. The way waves lap the shore, And the smooth rock slips from your hand, Slapping the water, Darting out to the deep, Giving you hope for a new day, Giving you love for this life. The way bonfires snap in the dark, Sending shadows and light across faces, Displaying the truth behind eyes, A light for secrets to be shared and kept In the small glowing circle. The way the night sky changes you, Making you curious, Making you calm, Bringing out the excited child, Bringing out the content adult, Mixing all aspects of your being Into the true version of you. The way your friend laughs, On a day when you don't feel 100%, And brings joy back into your heart, And reminds you there is good in this life. The way mist forms on a cloudy morning, Swirling and tw...

When is it enough? When should we do something? When the boys that follow her to her classes Move from standing three inches away To shoving her against the wall? When the girl who claims A boy has been stalking her Ends up with a black eye Because he was sick Of her saying "no"? When is it enough? Isn't that enough? Isn't the brokenness of the victims, The mental harassment, The physical fear, enough? What people write off as flirting Sends a girl into a panic, Because one time She had accepted the flirting And was manipulated, And has that lesson Burned into her brain. When is it enough? What people consider as "boys being boys" Scars an eleven year old girl Who has been hit Because a male classmate Wanted to kiss her And she said no. And it's not just women. When is it enough? When does the boy who likes art And has been saying His classmates attacked him Ge...

I was inspired to do a flash fiction story (since I've never done one before) by Katie Grace's story she did a while ago called  The Creature's Piping Song. Flash Fiction is a short-story of sorts. However, it must be under 1,000 words. It's a great way to break up a writing routine that is too monotonous, or if you just want to write something but don't want to commit to a novel. This one is based off a nursery rhyme (because I like taking those and exploiting them to their darkest extent). I am even thinking of doing a series of novels or a collection of flash fiction like this based off nursery rhymes. They're actually quite terrifying if you look at them in the right light. So, warning: This is a little dark. It's dark and death and yeah. So read if you're okay with that, but if you're not, just don't read it. The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout Down came the rain and washed the spider out Out came t...

This is an extra post that is also my Monday Minute Challenge entry on Tessa's blog (christiswrite.blogspot.com). My prompt entries are below: Picture Sentence: There was no stopping him this time. 3 objects: pen, cast, tree Here is my entry. It is 299 words long (just under the limit). ------- “It’s hard to know you’ll never remember me,” he whispers, “I’m truly sorry.” She lifts her head sharply, jolting the chains; a few links slip through his hands before he can catch them. “Not as sorry as I am.” The words are venom, quickly working their way through his blood stream and stopping his heart. But he keeps walking. The woman some believe to be the prophesied warrior of old trails behind him, chained and bloodied as though she is nothing more than a dog. Her body hits the chair with a dead thud, the chains around her wrists and ankles quickly being replaced with leather straps. The man kneels before her, fury and pain raging in a newly-lit fire behind hi...

I'm an author. I've got a book published, I've got 41 planned, and I write more than I probably should. I'm also an actor. I find solace on stage, in the lives of other people who I get to be--even if it is just for six hours on the weekend. So, inevitably, these two worlds would collide. They first collided when I started looking at colleges. I wanted to be an actor... but I also wanted to be an author. So I settled on an Theatre major with a Writing minor. They most recently collided a few weeks ago on Saturday, when I found some old stories I had written. They weren't the best (they ranged from me at 6 years old to me at 15), but one thing that I found was a one-act script I wrote for Creative Writing my Sophomore year of high school. It was actually pretty good! I mean, I had some awkward sentences and some sage directions were confusing, but it was good. And that's when it hit me: I'm gonna write a play. Not just for the sake of writing a pl...

QUICK THING: True Colors, the cover by Justin Timberlake and Anna Kendrick (from the movie Trolls although the original was by Cyndi Lauper) is GORGEOUS and I like it so much better than Lauper's original version. The harmonies, the guitar, everything is much more emotion-evoking and meaningful. If you want to hear it, here are the links for the Film Version and the Professional Recording both are gorgeous and I suggest you give them a listen. As we get closer to my book being able to be bought (look here for more info on that), I figured I should share some quotes and stuff about it. First off, lets start with some aesthetic quotes. Harper's life makes me both sad and happy Jace is my darling son - he's turned out a lot sweeter than I had originally planned but THAT'S FINE my book isn't all sad... just mainly sad little bb Olivia makes a cameo - except my eyes are like a weird shade of green that changes color literally based on my m...

Hello lovelies! SO, if you're new to this blog (which I'm not sure if anyone is but if you are hey sup welcome), I do these every month to wrap up my goals for the month and what I accomplished. SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO! Life • I've begun to be more outgoing. WAT AN INTROVERTED AUTHOR BEING OUTGOING WAT HAPPENED? I'm honestly just not filtering my speech as much. Usually I over-analyze literally EVERYTHING I say, and I'm not doing it that much. I've actually managed to make a few of those annoying little generic #swag boys in my school fear me because I've begun to speak my mind, and I am very proud of that. They're not good kids, and honestly I could see them being arrested for Sexual Harassment. I feel I'm doing my duty and protecting my fellow women, cus if they're scared of little 'ol me, they got a rude awakening. • I've begun to pursue my acting career. As I talked about in my  Life Choices  post, I plan on being both ...

Being writers, we have to create characters. You can't have a story without a character. Characters drive the story, give the readers someone to root for. But creating characters creates problems in the readerdom. Diversity isn't a thing that really exists. Many people try their best to actually represent everyone, but in doing so they tend to exclude others. Body Types. With girls, there's been a big push to love yourself for who you are. Big girls, curvy girls, all of them are being uplifted in this time. But in doing so, the skinny girls are being shamed. You know Daisy Ridley? The wonderful, talented, beautiful actress who played Rey in the newest Star Wars (and also the person in this photo)? Someone posted an image of Rey with a speech bubble saying "what were my casting directors thinking? don't they know real woman have curves?" Let me just say something. All women are different. ALL WOMEN ARE DIFFERENT. ALL. WOMEN. ARE. DIFFERENT. Everyone, ok...

Sorry this is late everybody! And also sorry that there's no Overwriter's post. This week has been crazy and I've been stressed and I haven't been feeling well so I didn't write this until today (October 3rd). But without further ado! Life • I've began bullet journaling in my school planner. I can't keep up bullet journaling normally, but because it's school I've got something to do every day. So, there's that. • I've had to stop my workouts on such a daily basis. Now I do intense workouts on Saturday and Sunday so I can still stay in shape but I've got enough time to do homework. • School has taken a destructive toll on me. Everything is very exhausting, everything is assigned on one day, and everything is due at the same time. It's not fun. Junior year is absolute horrid. Writing • I've gotten feedback from Angelle Pilkington, and she's suggested many helpful critiques that are making my book so ...

I bet you guys were expecting a thing for Overwriters today. Nope. That'll be coming next week. I just realized how close we all are to NaNoWriMo starting up. So, I thought I'd share a bit of what I'm doing for NaNoWriMo (how many times am I going to say NaNoWriMo in this post? I dunno), along with a bit of my normal writing process and how I decide what I'm going to write. A side from all that, something I have to do before I even begin to write is get in the zone. I have to be sitting at my desk, I need to have my fairy lights on, I need a cup of tea (with the tea pot nearby, of course), I need my fuzzy socks, and only then will I be ready to write. Only then will I actually want to write. F irst off, I have to decide what I'm going to write. To be completely honest, I don't know if I'll finish whatever I decide to write. But eh, I'm doing it anyways. On my computer, I have a list of book plots that I have come up with. They're catego...

Hello everyone, this is not my main post for this week. First off, I am so sorry I've been so busy and I've completely forgotten about the blog. Second off, this is why I'm posting this tiny little thing: I am doing a Q&A that will be posted along with my real post on Saturday. If you guys have any questions for me (be it on my life, writing process, or book itself) leave it in the comments, and I will include those in the post. ~Olivia Ann

This is a poem that I wrote for two of my characters in my series. They are technically the villains, but I loved them too much to not share this. Originally, I wrote it for my creative writing class, but it will appear in the third book of my series. Upon a rocky ocean cliff, A black wolf was chained That lifted her large black muzzle To drink while it rained On the sandy shores far below Her anguished cries were heard By a troubled, dangerous snake Who her pained cries had stirred He slithered up that steep, sharp cliff Till he wished to fall off But when he made it to the top He saw the black beast cough She was sickly and broken down Her ribs showed through her skin And scars marred that lovely face That was now so very thin She could not fight or run or howl For those who had chained her Had left her defenseless Bound in chains that tore her fur She was not dangerous to him And the little snake saw So he untied the t...