In the Midst

Something awful has happened. It's been an emotional night and day, where I've been on the balance between okay and positively terrified.
I'm not saying what happened yet. I don't know all the details and I don't want to curse anything. But it's happening in the past, and everything is repeating almost exactly same way as it did before. Almost exactly the same days.
Part of me suspected this would happen. The other half didn't want to accept it. I began panicking two nights ago that it would and last night after dinner I learned that it had, and I apologize, I'm practically speaking in riddles.
It's kind of what this feels like.
A riddle that refuses to be answered.
I'm also really cold, I popped my jaw out of place on accident and I burned my finger so badly it blistered. Things are not looking up. How many downs must a person suffer before an up is within sight?

Fear.
It is a powerful master.

Rising

As you may have noticed I have my up days and my down days.
Today is a "I-really-don't-care" day. I am sick and tired of spending all my time in gut-wrenching worry (it actually feels like it's wrenching your stomach! Odd!) and crying about something I cannot control.
I'm done.
I'm done listening to the negative.
I'm done listening to the doubters (often times including myself)
I've had enough. You can only spend so much time hitting your head in a corner before you have to turn around and see that there's a whole room behind you. I'm sick of the corner. The room is looking pretty nice.
I'm done being scared of something I'm not in control of.
Enough is ENOUGH!
All through yesterday doubts kept trying to peck their way into my mind. I wouldn't allow them in. Same thing today. I woke up feeling almost empty and feeling complete apathy for fear. Send me to Minas Morgul, I'd tap dance in front of orcs and not blink. I just don't care. And it should be noted that the only official dance class I took was when I was maybe three and I sat in the corner for most of it.
Also I want to share some edited pictures I took of myself (I don't think you can tell that they're selfies! (self portraits)) and don't worry. I don't agree with naughty pictures. I'd burn my crazy expensive camera before I  even considered taking one. If you do, it's your choice. Don't rat on me.

Funny story, before I took these pictures, I had no idea what my profile looked like. Everyone used to tell me I had a pixie nose, I now believe them. I think I should dress up as a pixie for Halloween. I can be as mischievous as them. Don't believe me? Read chapter fifteen in Twisted. ;)

This is the original photo. It is called Img_3889. Super name, am I right? I can never find old photos unless I give them an original name. img_3889 doesn't cut it for me. I can never remember it.

 I call this picture Darkness My Soul (I was feeling dramatic yesterday) because I played with the hue and saturation of the picture it blows out the light in the back ground leaving me looking much paler than I actually am. And no my hair does not have highlights, that light streak you see is a bunch of white hairs I call my unicorn hairs. In this picture I look like a ghost.
If you go Google wraith (I'd suggest going by wraith, fantasy otherwise you'll get some weird things) the original meaning is ghost. I took the Lord of the Rings and some of my own research approach and came up with the idea that a wraith is a person who lost their souls to darkness becoming a ghost.
And what is a ghost? It is what remains behind after a body dies (metaphorically speaking) so the darkened ghost of a person is a wraith.
Thereby, Darkness My Soul is the screaming of a soul for relief from darkness.

 This is called Help Me. Most of the color is gone. It reminds me of a scene in my book where the Secret Keeper's living self (who he was before he fell into darkness) felt as though he were encroached in darkness and only a spark of light remained.

 This is called Hello There. I played with the effects and darkened everything leaving this picture with a harsh light. It's like the awakening of the soul to a remembrance of all there was in life. I love the way the shadows look in this one and the light across my face, almost as if there were an angelic presence urging me to leave the darkness behind and look up.

 I played with the color filters. For those of you who don't know much about cameras (me two months ago :D) cameras pick up light, red, blue, and green light. When you play with a light filter you can make an image look too green, too red, and too blue. I like the way my hair looks in this.

 This is where I played with the levels. My hair is naturally that red (oh sigh) unless it's been bleached by the sun or shampoo. You can clearly see the unicorn hairs in this one. Believe it or not, these pictures were taking in the morning (about 11:00 AM Mountain Daylight Time, something like that) I hung a black photography cloth in front of my closet and used light coming from the hallway. It took like 20 pictures to get this one. I love the deep shadows. Pictures like this are my favorite, they speak to me. I discovered recently that pictures like music bring up something within my soul. The beauty is sometimes lost, but the meaning is still there. The overall name for all these pictures is Bring Me to Life, like the song by Evanscene.

 This is Loss of My Soul. Same picture as before, but if you look closely I used a tool to darken my lips and the visible eyelid. It appears as if I am about to turn away from the light instead of look to it. I've learned so much this year from studying horses with my violin teacher. Body language can mean so much. This position looks defeated. Like a hard fought fight that was lost in the end. I think it says "I give up." or "Save me."

This final one is a girl looking towards the lights on a bridge. Black and white added the effect I wanted to grab. It has a haunted feel and reminds me of how I've felt before. A dark spot among bright lights, wanting to join them, but feeling unable to get there on my own. In color a lot of the dark spots are washed out and it looks too yellow. In black and white the effect is ghostlike. I want to be there.

Have any soul pictures (what I call the ones above)? If they're clean please share them with me. Leave me a link to your blog or Facebook and I'll be sure to comment. I love this kind of photography and I want to see what other people have done so I can know how to improve mine.

I'm Finished, So Why....?

As you all saw in my previous post, I'm finished. My book is done. There is really nothing I want to fix. I drew my map, I finished the cover completely, my family is raving about how awesome it all looks....
So why do I feel down?
I made my account on CreateSpace today. Yes I'm self-publishing. I don't have the kind of money or patience for huge companies to try a traditional publishing effort right now. And when I saw the account earnings as being $0.00 in American, European, and other kinds of currency, it all came crashing down on me.
My hopes went crashing.
Splat.
I know this is probably stupid thinking, thinking that I've failed before I even started, but I feel so hopeless. There are so many people out there who publish a book and VOILA! A buzillion readers. Now I'm being told that it's going to take even longer than I thought to just get this stupid thing onto the Kindle and AUUUUUUUUUUGGHHHHH!
Though I don't like screaming like that because you do it for so long and it begins to hurt your throat and then you are a poster boy for laryngitis.
Part of me wonders why I ever thought I could write a book. That part of me is curling into a corner and hoping that it all goes away if I ignore it for long enough (okay let's be honest? How often has that actually worked?) the other half is kicking me and snapping "hello? YOU WROTE A FREAKING BOOK! WHY ARE YOU BEING A STUPID SAPPY IDIOT RIGHT NOW?"
I'm not sure which side is more dominant.
I want to cry, stomp my feet, but I am no longer a child. Those behaviors will only be seen as immature and pathetic. I've received a lot of kicks since I began writing this book. Right now it seems like I am getting slammed into on every side.
Help me!!!
On top of that I keep dreaming that I have a horse of my own (except on one night that switched and I was a Nazgul on a fell beast and I crashed it into a wall. Oops.) and it makes me sad because the way things are going it's never going to happen.
Then again I never stayed down when I was kicked hard enough to fall. So far nothing has been so terrible I haven't been able to find my feet. Why should this be any different? It's new. I can't see the future. Who knows what could happen? Ten years ago I never saw myself at this point. Ten years from now I may look back at this post and laugh at myself (if I do, I give all of you permission to laugh at me (politely! =D)
I heard a poem at girl's camp since then it's popped into my mind on occasion. This is one of them. It is not my poem in any way, it's copied off of this website, http://holyjoe.org/poetry/anon3.htm. All rights go to the respective owner, who I thank for writing this.

The Race

attributed to Dr. D.H. "Dee" Groberg

Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
    my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
    excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
    or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
    and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one. The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
    to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
    was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
    the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
    and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
    Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow. But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
    which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
    and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
    his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
    “I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.” But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
    with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
    “If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
    but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
    “There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
    But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face. “Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
    for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
    You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
    and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
    still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
    Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end. They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
    head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
    the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
    you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
    “To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.” And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
    the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
    And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
    another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
End quote

And just so you can see,
Here's the entire cover, all of it drawn by me. It's a screen shot because the program I was using wouldn't save it. This is front, side, and back covers.
I hope and pray for the moment I will be able to hold a physical copy of it in my hands. I no longer care about giving signed copies (as my young mind once imagined doing) if it sells, I want my readers to sign my book. Nothing would give me more joy than seeing the names of people who have read my book inside my personal copy.
It's all I can hope for now.
My journey has brought me to a dock with only a raft and a paddle moored in place.
I won't go back to where I started.
I can't avoid it forever.
The only thing I can do now is get on the raft and paddle.

DONE!

I am very happy to write this post to announce that I am done.
Yes. That's right. Twisted is now complete and ready to be published. This is an amazing moment for me. I spent nearly 2 1/2 years working on this book. From rough draft to final form I've learned so much.
I began this book at the tender age of 15, still well within the bounds of a growing child. I finished it at 18, now an adult, though I am not done learning yet.
When I began writing Twisted I'll be the first to admit that my writing skills weren't very sharp. I repeated things over and over again. My plots weren't exactly award winners. Now I feel very confident in what I write. It makes me happy to sit in front of my computer and take what once was a blank page and fill it will heart.
I've given this book every ounce of effort I have. There's not a single part of me that I withheld from writing. I'm a dreamer and I've spent so long dreaming about this moment, now that it's happening for real I'm kind in a state of shock.
Don't worry, I'll wake up.
I guess you can say that I've changed from the start. When I was fifteen I was sure the world was out to get me. I wasn't very social, I could never pick up the phone or strike up a conversation with someone I hadn't know for years. I also wasn't very responsible, my parents didn't trust me that much. I wasn't exactly what you'd call an angel.
My saving quality was probably my love of writing.
It takes commitment to write. Before this time I'd never really been committed to anything. I made half-hearted efforts and things from time to time but never a full try. When I did write (I did everyday on a book that I started before Twisted) I spent most of it worrying. It took forever and I got about one chapter done everyday if I was lucky.
Then Aster the Terrible walked into my life. It was roughly after I finished the book mentioned above. My sister took it away so I couldn't read it for a month which was apparently supposed to help your writer's brain recover. I wasn't supposed to read it or write it or whatever.
I went stir-crazy. I think it was about two weeks where I fought for something, ANYTHING to write. I'd written this little blurb (I think I got about 4 chapters and some scenes done) about one of the characters from the other book. It inspired what was to come. On March 8, 2011 my journey really began. I don't even remember what I was thinking as I sat down one day and began writing.
Somehow or another these words spilled across the page.
Oh what a world. I was at the height of my reign of plunder.
BAM. I was hooked.
14 days later I was done. I'd written a 210 (I think) page book in 14 days. It had a plot, character development, twists turns and even a name. It was simply meant to be.
I wrote the first 2 drafts of Twisted in 2011. They weren't very good, but I didn't care. I loved my characters. I loved writing about them, thinking about them, drawing them. I also started and finished the second book.
By now I think my entire family was involved. I was sixteen by then and I think a bit more mature. I began getting serious about getting the book published. I always meant to get it published, but didn't get really serious until the third draft.
I was fully committed now. I had my "I want to quit!" moments, but I always (and thankfully!) got past them. I began waking up at 5 in the morning to get more time to write. I was pounding out about 100 pages a week. Amazingly my behavior got better. I was less whiny (until I got sick, then bombs away!) my parents began to trust me more and I was getting to know my siblings better.
Now almost 3 years later I'm definitely not the same person I was when I began this book. I am much more able to handle problems maturely, things that terrified my fifteen-year-old self don't even cause me to blink...much. I honestly don't care what people think. I'd go sing a nursery rhyme in Grand Central Station for fun.
It all began with a book and the effort of trying to get it published. I am able to set goals and accomplish them, I can look at problems backwards, forwards, upside down, and sideways. When I get stuck I don't panic for weeks. I allow myself to freak out and then move on with it.
What is this all about...well it's mainly just me contemplating my journey. I know it's far from over, the best part hasn't even come yet. It's been a long hike. I look back to where I started and where I thought it was so hard and it's really so easy! If my journey were a mountain, the beginning spot would be flat ground with maybe one little dip that I got stuck in for a while.
Now I'm climbing near vertical surfaces.
What changed?
I suppose it's like the quote my dad always says (sometimes to my annoyance) "Things grow easier. It's not that the nature of the thing itself has changed, but our power to do so has increased."
Something like that.
I'm not sure who said it.
I believe this. As a fifteen-year-old there was no way I could do what I'm accomplishing now.
Quote on, Dad. Quote on.

Walking Darkened Paths

Good morning. I hope you're all doing well this morning because I am not. I do not feel well at all. Yes, it's the same problem that has been plaguing me since march. Yeah, you know, the one that the doctor's say is nothing.
Nothing sure feels like crap.
Anyway. It was a long weekend, not exactly the most pleasant, other than I found my writing grove again, so happy about that. I learned some startling news that is leaving me a little dry-mouthed and thinking "oh no! not again!" I'm not going to say what it is yet. It's still trying to sink in. It was so out of the blue, my siblings and I were left sitting there with blank expressions when we were told all of us probably thinking, "no that really can't be it."
Now I'm a little worried. We've seen what can happen when things go wrong. I'm terrified that they'll go REALLY wrong.
Adding to my lovely weekend, I had an emotional breakdown. I couldn't handle the stress of my own kept secrets and worries. I feel like I'm trying to swim in freezing water without a life preserver currently. Everything come at me and I don't have time to duck!
I'm worried about my book (nothing new)
I really want a horse (also nothing new)
I'm terrified about college.
And now this news.
It doesn't all have to be bad, I know, but you know when you get shocking news and you kind of have to sit there in a daze as your mind tries to put it together.
I'm not quite out of that daze yet.
I'm also not very fond of school today. I'm tired of the endless pacing of school days where I'm told to do this and then that with teachers who don't really notice my existence. I don't like being referred to as Student #24, or "that person" or "those people" I find it annoying when people do that. When they look right at me, and I know that they know my name but they still call me like they don't. I like being called by my name.
Yes. It's all kind of building up. Emotions...worries...lack of sleep or too much of the precious stuff...it's going to explode.
On the flip side though, it's almost October. I'm not terribly fond of Halloween. Especially the ugliness of it. The undead shouldn't be flaunted like that. Anyone who jokes about such a pitiful existence really doesn't understand what it's like to be without light. I went through a time where I felt like I was partially dead. I know. It's not fun. I don't mean where I was physically half dead, but emotionally. It got really bad. My behavior turned destructive. Thankfully my sister intervened. I love my sister.
My younger sister always asks me if wraiths actually exist. We have this game that we play that for lack of other names is called "walk in the dark" where we play in the world if Twisted. I've gotten several ideas for the story while playing and character development for several characters whose POVs I generally don't write from. From this my sister learned about wraiths and just about everything it takes for a person to become one.
Don't get me wrong. Her understanding is purely innocent. She's under 10 years old. If she were any older I'd insist that she didn't joke about it falling to a state of such darkness isn't something to be laughed about.
Sometimes she gets scared and she asks me if wraiths actually exist. I don't want to take the fantasy out of her life (thanks teachers who told me Santa Claus isn't real, actually I don't remember how I learned that, but blame public school, obviously) but at the same time I don't want to scare her out of her mind.
I have to say no.
I actually believe that they do exist. Now before you go thinking I've popped some nugget in my head let me explain. I believe it's possible to get to such a state where you breathe and feel but you're dead. The Secret Keeper refers to this as "the living death." How a person gets to a state of such darkness...I'd need several novels to list every single way. In essence, it's by shunning light. I don't mean by closing your blinds, but by taking away from your soul everything that is good and human.
I think this is why the Nine (Nazgul, saw it coming right?) are referred to as Sauron's greatest servants. It's because they began as men, great men. I look at the intro showing them as men before they fell and I can't imagine them becoming wraiths. I mean it! Several of them look like grandpas I'd want to spend time with. Or a person I could and would call king and I don't trust most people in authority. Everyone has the chance to either do great good or great evil. And those who choose to do great evil with every knowledge of good are worse than those who do evil because they don't know any better.
The Nine certainly knew better.
So do those who willfully choose to walk down darkened paths.
Eventually they walk so far it is difficult to return and return cannot happen without aid. They sleep in death where there is no light. No hope. No peace.
The exist among the living, but their world is of the dead.
I've been exploring this since while writing from the Secret Keeper's POV I came across the term "sleeping in death" which is how he describes himself as being. I cannot find out how a person would wake up from such a state. It blew my mind when I realized that for the Secret Keeper to have a complete character development I couldn't get away with cheap things. He has a Darth Vader type metamorphosis. He goes from dark and everything that is dead and decaying to light and life.
It begins in the first book when a girl who represents the innocent in Twisted whispers the name his living soul was known by. As it is with those who walk down darkened paths. Names have power and when we can truly adhere to our names and leave old titles behind, we have mastered ourselves.

My Mistake

This is me a couple hours later and calm. I'm leaving this post up as a reminder to myself to not panic anymore. Not everyone is going to stab me in the back!
For those of you returning you read my raw emotions. I may seem strong on the surface, but inside I can be watery and scared.
The truth is I'm not very social. I don't like being around loud people and watching them with their friends. I've tried several times to make friends, but unless they reach out first, nothing seems to happen. I have tried to befriend the lonely people, the friendly people but none of them seemed to want anything to do with me or were friendly until their friends showed up and suddenly I was the background, a chair.
Now I panic when things happen. The way Pat Parelli phrases it, it's like I turned right brain and there is no longer any logic, just a firm desire to protect myself and get out.
It was my mistake, though I feel stupid to admit it.
To my friend, GAH! I feel really dumb. I'm sorry. I went right brained this morning. I hope I haven't hurt you, I'm sure I have some explaining to do in person. I am not as strong as you may think. The wounds from my past have scabbed, but they're still raw and pop open now and again.
I'm sorry. It's my fault. What can I do to make it better?

Covering

I feel mildly guilty for my scatterbrained post last night. I was tired, sore and a little cranky when I wrote it. Now I'm tired, nauseous, but less cranky. :)
I spent 15+ hours on my cover over the past two weeks. My reason behind that is that I went onto Facebook where there was a cover design group where they'd critique my cover. They tore mine apart saying that it had no contrast, no visual interest. Nada.
I walked away with steam in my ears.
At first I was ready to toss my hand in the air saying "Forget it. I'm clearly not meant to do this! I'll take up knitting!" I even asked what the price of knitting needles were.
Fortunately my family and friends took compassion on my poor soul. I spent days trying to figure out what to do. I had no idea! I felt petrified with nothing. My family spent hours coming up with ideas, silly ones, but hey, the thought process can be full of silliness. Like Lindsey Stirling said, "Don't be afraid of the bad ideas."
My idea came to me while driving to my grandparents. I had been toying with the idea of taking a picture of a key, slapping the title over that and calling it good. I tried, here's the result:

Pretty good picture if you don't mind me saying. But it didn't add the visual appeal I was looking for. I mean it is interesting to look at (and yes, it follows the rule of thirds and framing! I didn't add the blackness around it on the computer, I was holding a flashlight between my knees and the key with ribbon in front of my jacket hanging in front of the chair I sit to write in.)
This picture sparked an idea. Yes, a key is intriguing. What are keys used for? To unlock things. And if you think about it, there are things in Twisted that need unlocking, such as a front door, a cell door, or a soul.
From there I had two ideas. Everyone that has heard about my book and read the blurb about it has told me that I need to put the Secret Keeper on the cover somewhere. I never tried because he is really difficult to draw! But I decided I wasn't going to draw, I was going to take a fancy photo and go from there.
My two ideas are as follows (ooh, fancy today aren't we Tayla?)
1. to have a hand holding a key with the form of the Secret Keeper in the background.
2. A key hanging from something with the wraith in the background.
Both ideas sounded good, but I didn't have a clue on how to do them, plus I'm kind of lacking a costume for it (someday! Someday I tell you, I will make it!)
From these two ideas was born the one I would go with. The Secret Keeper walking through a forest with a key. I thought this would perk interest. What is a faceless being doing with a key? Where is he going? As hard as he is to draw, the wraith draws the most attention. I pay attention to books with beings like him on the cover. As of yet I haven't found any I want to read...but still, they  drag my eyes in.
I tried several times to put together a good cover. I attempted it on the computer. I walked away in utter frustration until my brother told me to do it step by step. Stop worrying about the whole composition and draw each individual piece.
I love my brother.
This idea worked marvelously. I drew each little piece starting with the Secret Keeper. Since I've been practicing drawing wraiths since summer I think he turned out marvelously. From a stick figure to a hooded being, the persona of death itself.

This is the shaded version. Truth be told? I've never drawn anything like it before! I used a variety of shading techniques, most of which I've never attempted.
I also learned that when I have his hood tilted to the side like that, it draws attention. From the front, he's threatening because it looks like he's going to run you down, but like this he's mysterious.
I remember telling my grandmother about him. I was blabbering away and said, "He's called the Secret Keeper, scary right?" (positively terrifying, gosh.)
My grandmother thought about it for a moment then said, "Sounds mysterious."
Bingo. I don't want him to be so scary people are too afraid to open my book. It's not him. His personality doesn't always scream, "I'm a scary wraith! Fear me! Raah!"
Sometimes it's, "I'm not what you think I am. Why can't you see that?"
I think I captured that in this drawing. And no, he's not dropping the key. I spent FOREVER drawing his hand and didn't want to erase it over the string.
BTW, this was my reference for his hand, amazing picture. I wish I knew who it belongs to, I'd give them thanks in abundance.

Then came a part I was dreading. The forest. I've always lived under the assumptions that I just don't DO backgrounds. I was proved wrong. On a Sunday night where I took a four hour nap and wasn't going to sleep, I drew it.

And here it is! Voila! A forest! If you look closely, the trees in the front are twisted (get it? Haha, I'm such a nerd!)
And this is where it changed from a forest in bloom to a forest in death. I realized that I wanted to go more for a "seasons of the soul" type thing. A soul in winter will be a cold one indeed. At this point this is where the Secret Keeper is.
Truthfully, though I go on and on about my other characters (not on this blog...I think) the story is really about the Secret Keeper. It follows his journey from death back to life. That's why the first cover will be a cold winter scene. His soul is breathing winter.
If I didn't call my book Twisted it would probably be Winter Soul. It just has a nice ring to it. =D






I put it together to get this rough sketch of how the entire cover would look

After I got done with the sketches I got a little paralyzed. I've tried doing pictures on the computer in the past. If you go onto my YouTube account I have a video called "Fantasy Horses" all of those are my failed attempts at it. They look decent, but I didn't put much effort into them. I was afraid that my cover would end up looking cheesy and stupid. I do judge a book by the cover, if it looks like crap, I'm sorry, I'm not going to invest much time into reading it. You know those covers with the flat people with the elbows that bend like circles? Yucko. Not opening it.

Here's the movie. Yep. They're all scans. Back then I had no idea how to turn a .xcf into a .jpg.
I was a little paralyzed at the idea of trying, but I read this quote "doubt kills more dreams than failure ever did." I wish I could remember who said it! I'll look it up. It was NOT me!
Anyway, I took it to heart and tried.
First attempt.
Failure.
I walked away steaming.
"Knitting!"
Then I stopped being stupid and tried to figure out what I did wrong (look, I'm learning!) I realized that the image was too large and I didn't start with the subject. You ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS start with your subject. It gives your drawing personality and thereby YOU are more interested in drawing.
The next day I came back and I filled in the Secret Keeper. I put every ounce of drawing skill I had into drawing him. I started by blocking him in red. Then, with my fingers crossed (at least figuratively, kind of hard to use a computer to draw with crossed fingers) I began filling in color.
Bit by bit he began to take shape.
Here's how it went.

 Rough concept drawing right now. I highlighted him in red so when I turned the background layer off I could still see him. It gets difficult to see what you're doing when you used the background layer as your blocking especially if you're using similar colors. I tried it in the past...that's why I did it like this now. :)











Roughly four hours later I was done. I didn't copy every step I took even though I said I would. I got excited and stopped. :)


And then I panicked as I realized I had no idea what to do for the background.
I realize I knew someone who could. My good friend and pal Bob Ross. Last year I loved watching his program. I saw a lot of ideas of how to paint. When I tried them myself, ehh, not so great. I'll save paintbrushes and paints for later, but the same ideas could be used on the computer.
I tried looking for episodes online. There weren't any that I wanted. I went to the library with my mom after taking pictures for my photography class. I struggled a bit to find where the movies were. I knew at least one of them was there, I'd looked it up online.
When I found where they were I saw that there were two. Both had drawings I needed to see. I watched them both.
Feeling much more confident I came upstairs the next morning. Finished my schoolwork. Forced myself to feel calm and began.
Step one, blocking everything out. I did. I drew a mountain in the style of Bob Ross. If you look close it looks like one of the Wasatch Mountains, oddly enough the one that ended up being the subject of my panorama picture for school.

Yes, my horrible stitched photo. Mountain furthest to the right is the one I'm talking about. Funny story NEVER taking photos while the sun is setting, unless you're a pro. You can see the colors getting progressively darker. Oops. Oh well I got 100% anyway. :)
Back to my cover. I drew in two mountains, got a little stalled for the foreground. That's where I ALWAYS run into trouble. So I went with what I knew. I drew a little snow covered hill in front of my mighty mountains (LOL Bob Ross, he has such a soothing voice) and then I pushed my brush up, creating what looked like teeny tiny mountains in the distance.
Then I attempted trees in the foreground. YUCK! It was too abrupt. I backed up a bit and drew trees in the background. Much better. They looked pretty decent. My brother came in and suggest I add a little fog around the edge of the Secret Keeper's robes. I sighed wondering if I'd ever get to that point.
Then I tried foreground trees again. I was losing patience. It was beginning to look (in my mind) to look yucky. I kept going, smudging, adding color, backwards forwards, until I got a result I wanted. I used two trees to frame the Secret Keeper and branches overhead so your eyes are drawn to him. Then I added the fog, curling it up to finish the frame. Voila! Here's the result.

I thought it was great for a stand alone picture. It's now my profile picture for YouTube. I'm so proud of his hand! On GIMP (the program I used) it looks very pixelated up close, but I kept adding color. Then I began smudging. The result was instant, a hand! And a hand that looks dead no less!
But it's missing something. Yes. This is a good stand alone, but not cover.
I began adding text.
For all my other cover versions it was always black or silver. Looking at the cover scheme here it's easy to guess why that wouldn't work. This is a very cold picture. I kind of want my coat just by looking at it. (I'm so proud of it! It looks as though he's pausing to look at something while traveling down a snow covered road) I wanted it to look a bit warmer so that people would feel comfortable picking it up.
If you look extremely closely you'll see bits of gold flecked in his robes. Most of my characters have a signature color. It's like in Kung Fu Panda 2 how Po and Shen (is that his name?) have signature color. Po is bright gold, Shen is a brilliant red. Watch the movie again and look for it. They did a very good job of showing who was the good guy and who was the bad guy. Even without sound you can tell.
Red is a very aggressive color, makes you want to go out and hit something.
Gold is pure, it makes you feel calm and inspired.
The Secret Keeper's color is a dirty gold. I decided that years ago.
I used gold as my text color. Voila. It worked brilliantly. I put in text using the same color of gold as the key (which by the way went in marvelously. It looks like a freaking key!) and the result was amazing. It looks like something I'd be interested in reading.
Here it is.
The finished picture.

Yes. Every single little detail you see was drawn by me. I did it freehand by pencil, then by mouse on the computer. I don't have one of those fancy draw tablets (though, I wish!) and I used a heck of a lot of references for this. I wish I could thank every single person for sharing their pictures.
Overall learned experience from this? Just because you fail once doesn't mean you need to quit.
"...No failure ever need by final." --President Monson.
I firmly believe that.
No failure is final. It's final when you quit.
A quitter NEVER prospers.