Ten Things this writer understands

Hey lovelies, HaziWords here, trying to get creative on a unique intro.
HaziWords, Hazily Wording things since 2014.
*Flashes cheesy grin, adjusts top hat, pulls guinea pig from hunched back*.
Anyways, I know it’s been a bit since anythings gone up in Writers Square…or should I say down.
I really need more than just thirty minutes of sleep after volunteering a normal persons shift, until twelve at night, and then at six thirty in the morning.
But seriously, I have another post for Writers Square:
Ten Things Writers Understand.

1. Daydreaming.
All the time. No matter where. This is often misunderstood as staring, which is considered rude because you should have a life, you know, outside the voices in your head.
*Staring off into distance, considering an incredible, never heard of plot twist*
*Gets nudged by brother/dad/mom* “Starings rude”
“I’m not staring!”
*Shifts eyes to some other spot where a person is standing to stare*

2. Character Reality
*Sees boy walking by with the perfect idea of how awesome character is*
*Stares at boy for more than ten seconds*
“Ooohhh, see someone you like?”
*Continues to search crowd avidly in hopes that maybe said story will become reality when other lead stumbles in.*
“Hazi, I know he’s cute, but staring’s rude.”
*Jars out of reality* “Cute?! Puh-leeze, I was just noticing how his eyes are exactly like this one guy I kno….so did you see the game last night?”

3. Stop asking to read my writing.
Look, I get it. You’re trying to be polite, you know, read what I wrote.
See though, the thing is, I don’t even read what I write. I live it out, and then save the file and move on.
Half the time, what I wrote was midnight thoughts crammed into a story just as I hear my parents get up to do their house-walk through thing (house guard at night).
“Oh I’m sure it’s not bad!”
*Nods* “Well, hold on…”
*Opens notebook*
*Reads first three words*
*Chokes at terrible writing*
*Slaps notebook shut*
*Smiles and walks away, daydreaming again*

4. Over-Criticizers
I’ve actually met a few of these unintentionally. Their the ones that some how got ahold of your work, and have legitimately nit-picked it to death. These people are the reason why half the writers are terrified to be published.
These people, are the reason red pens are loathed.
I mean honestly, I could just be like “Hey man, here’s an unedited version of my story, it’s nothing big, and I’m still tweaking it, so the grammar and structure and all is a little bazaar, but I’m fixing it*
And three hours later, you’ve just recieved an F on a project that was just for fun.
It wasn’t even for school.
“Hey, could you check this out?”
“Yeah, you want me to edit it?”
“Nah, I got it, just tell me what’s up with the dialog and all. Can’t seem to get it flowing.”
“Yeah, I got you.”
*4 Decades later (really it’s about an hour later)*
“Hey, just thought I’d show you some parts I thought I’d help you with*
Red Markings everywhere.
Like blood.
The blood from my destroyed dreams.
*Dramatically sobs in the background, eating copious amounts of chocolate, thinking about how much of a failure you are*.
5. The okayers.
These people are almost worst than the Over-Criticizers.
“So how was the story?”
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Well I mean it wasn’t bad”
*Pulls out microscope, detective cap and pipe*
*Analyzes what they said*
*Over thinks everything*
*Realizes you’re a failure*
*Sobs in the background eating copious amounts of chocolate and thinks about how horrible of a person you are*.
6. So what are you thinking about?
What am I thinking about?
How do I describe this without playing twenty questions with you?
*Thinks about what you were thinking about*
*Considers your story*
*Considers how to explain it*
*Considers world destruction*
*Remembers that the government probably reads search history*
*Remembers research on Atomic bomb*
*Remembers research on how to say “This really sucks” in Japanese*
*Remembers how you ended up on Fox News reading articles dated six years back about serial killers and hospitals*
“Well, I actually really like dogs, happy birthday to you, thanks for asking.”
7. I did work, okay?
I mean really, some people don’t know what it’s like to be a writer.
We will spend hours, thinking about our characters.
Imagining our Characters.
Being our characters.
I mean seriously, you thought my story was great to read?
Have you lived it out like I have?
I have cold sweats thinking about my yellow-skinned teethy version of a kinda-Slenderman character.
I’m sorry, but have you fought Jackie Chan?
I don’t think so.
This is hard work.
*Dramatically acting out story idea in bathroom*
*Accidently lets out audible weird noise*
*Blushes and apologizes to the toilet for all your weirdness*
*Wonders if the sink and lights are bugged with cameras*
*Realizes that if dogs could talk, your mothers dog would tell on all your weird antics*
*Resumes your incredible acting*
*Continues to act all the way out of the bathroom, dying for real when you run into someone while your acting*
8. Wow this is really good.
“I’ve never had the talent for writing.”
Well neither did I. I didn’t actually start writing until I was eleven.
I wrote about a girl in Alaska a year older than me who had crazy biological parents, was an absurdly awesome soccer player, who’s mom owned a candy shop, had every single pet you could imagine wandering around, who’s best friend was a guy who’s dad was a secret agent.
The thing is?
As of current, they’ve saved the world once, will save the world soon, have visited
I mainly got into writing because life got hard to handle, and my escape was something like this.
While my life was hitting me at an emotional level, I could hit my story characters at a physical, mythical level.
I honestly can’t take credit for my writing.
I’m not saying God spoke to me, but anything good was conceived via a heckuva a lot of prayer.
So seriously, stop saying you can’t write.
If I don’t have a right to use my Anemia and Asthma to get out of sports, you don’t have a write to use anything to get you out of writing.
Actually, how many people can really relate to these, and how many are trying to track me down so they can put me in an asylum?

9. Everything is an inspiration.
See that tree over there?
See this dog?
See this duct tape?
Well, I should probably use that to fix the binder on my over-read books.
Really though, even on a writers block, it’s like you can forumulate stuff, but you can’t get it on paper.

10. When people say you aren’t your writing.
Dude, do you know how much of this is actually me?
See the main character, this is me if I wasn’t terrified of my parents getting mad at me, or my fear of heights.
Do you see this character?
Yes, the one with the annoyingly attractive looks, the less than clever come backs and the sweetest personality that is in the story?
Well that’s my brother.
Or was my brother.
He turned twelve and went from
“Hey random sir do you want to hear a story?”
To “Go Away, I don’t talk to people”.
People think I’m the outgoing one.
I’m 71% percent introverted.
Three months ago, I was at 98% percent introverted. I took the test three times to come up with the same stinkin results.
Anyways, that character that you don’t like?
That’s my mother and my father in the same person. So it’s really insulting that you don’t like them. Jeez.

Everything in my stories is me.
My trademarks.
My comebacks.
My quips.
Those are me.
Stop saying I’m not my writing.
I am too my writing-and my writing is me.

Anyways, that’s all I have left for you today!
Any of these random tangents and rants relatable?
What are your thoughts on todays post?
Stay Ginchy!

Worth the Cross

Hey guys, today I found a poem I wrote last year when I was going through I really hard time. I know it’s been awhile since I posted anything on the TruelyHaziWords part of my blog, but here it is. (Like I said, I’m not poet, but I figured it’d be interesting to have on this blog.

Let me know what you think.



I have an unexplainable bout of confusion my life.
The thoughts that grip and tear at me.
The hurt that roars through me, fighting to be released.
The tears of pain and agony, the cries for my soul that’s undoubtedly lost.
I wonder, will I ever be worth the price paid at the cross?
The stories tell of the people who found, their way back around, all safe and sound, to God.
They plague me, antagonize me, reminding me of my attempts to make it, but slipping in the end.
I cannot find my way-lost in this confusing array, of emotions filled with anger, tears, and joy.
Unhappiness dissolves in my life, is there something more, or am I trying to cause strife?
Have I missed something through the years?
Did I forget why God sent me here?
Is the price He paid really worth,
the mistakes I make on this shaking earth?
The ground on which I stand, is most certainly   sinking sand.
Am I really worth the cost,
that Christ paid at the cross?

Stay Ginchy!



Book Shots: Vintage Veronica (Resolution Book 2/100)

Book Shots: Vintage Veronica (Book 2/100)
Hey guys, today I give you another ginchtastic bookshot…
Vintage Veronica
—–*Begins sorting out emotions toward this book, feeling slightly frustrated*)——
Vintage Veronica, written by Erica S. Perl, is the fifteen-near-sixteen-year-old girl, Veronica. The story follows her, her terrible choice in friends, her romance with an unexpected boy, a wacked boss-kinda-guy, her extremely healthy mom, vintage things…and well…Lizards.
I’d have to say, this book’s begining was slow and painful. I almost immedietly disliked it for a multitude of reasons: The MC’s personality, the stereo-typical fat girl (the MC), and the slow pulse the story had throughout. Admittedly, I didn’t really want to finish this story, but
A)Bookworms are to never put down a book, no matter how terrible it is. They must wade it out, and be certain they dislike this book.
B) I really wanted to add another book to my completed list. (Seriously, thank God for Renegades, Stalking Jack the Ripper, and a few other choice books).
That being said, Vintage Veronica was a unique-ish story about a girl who loves-all-things-vintage.
However, I’m going to adress something that bugged me throughout the book.
The Fat Girl stereotype. You know, completely down on themselves, they have that female role model obsessed with weight loss, nieveness, and well, Cynical.
I can promise you, I have read several books that right the characters cynical towards weight loss, or thinner ladies.
Which was kind of akin to this story.
Veronica was too shy (until the end, you know, the hero’s journey), a little obessive about her weight-it showed up in the story ALL the time (like, I get it, I get a little flippant about my weight, however, I can promise you I don’t just concern myself about food, weight, and making friends), and honestly, flat out cynical. Her personality was harsh, and while it was part of the story, confusing. She was judging a dorky kid, while she was dorky.
Also, Veronica didn’t have frequent friends due to her weight-another slightly strange thing, because honestly, I’m not entirely sure how one effects the other-you’re always going to find somone. While I’m aware this made the story, can we please stop making all these “diverse” characters the flippin’ same? Like, I’m sorry, but Plus sized girls in stories are always
1. Self Concious
2. Party Girls (hit-or-miss, but common)
4. Disdainful toward thin-people.
I’m not just saying that toward Plus sized girls, I could also ask why we always make Chinese Girls smart, or other annoying book-stereotypes, like Colored people comming from the getos, or having poor language, Red Heads are either fiery, or shy. Writers are shy, it’s all so…the stinkin’ same!
Sorry about that little rant right there, just couldn’t help it with that rant.
That being said, I did enjoy the Reptiles, and the Nail (hey, I’m not giving away spoilers).
Also Bill.
Anyways, time for a Sypnosis.
Veronica Walsh has always struggled with friends, but never with vintage fashion. Her dad practically raised her in Flea Markets, finding hidden gems. However, she wasn’t expecting to find a hidden gem in the guy she had always considered…awkward, and not exactly in a nice way. She even gave him a nickname, the Nail. Unfortunately, her nickname was small compared to the nickname that her “friends” gave him. While these “freinds” were pretty rude to him, and wanted to bust him for ludacriousness, using Veronica as their lead protagnoist, they ended up with a double agent.
Yup, usually friendless Veronica had made friends, and romance. The question is, when despition is actually what hits the fan, will it last?
Rating: 2 out of 5 stars. Honestly, I was hoping for a fresh new book (Even though it’s from 2007), that had a unique take on life. Unfortunately, both mean girl and MC were pretty main stream, and not developed in a way I’m comfortable with. The book was like a flatlining heart monitor until halfway through, when things begin to pick up the pace, and then they move in what feels like the author felt rushed through (you know, hit a writers block, really didn’t want to deal with it) this. I’m giving it two stars because the Nail, Bill, and the Reptiles. The wording didn’t pop out in ways that was unique, the story was dull, and focused around how Veronica didn’t have friends, mainly because of her weight (not that her personality didn’t need work, you know, typical teenager). I did giggle at a small part with the reptiles, though honestly, the way the Nail reacted with them reminded me of how I reacted with my Guinea Pigs.
That being said…
I don’t disdain the author like I (for some reason that I can’t comprehend) disdain Scott Westerfield.
Suggested for: People who are in need of a brain-numbing book after a stressful day, people who like reptiles, corky bosses, or a unique read.
Age Group: 13+, Again, excessive swearing, drug referances, some more maturish-teen themes, and really, just not meant for little kids.
So that’s all I have for you all today, what’d you think?
Have you read Vintage Veronica? What were your thoughts? I apologize for the rants and tangents.
Also note that I will never say a writter is terrible expect Scott Westerfields writing. I kid you not, for two years I have held some strange vandeta against him, despite trying his books
AfterWorlds, and the Uglies.
I know, I know, he has great use of adjective, and his diversity is unreal in his books, but for some odd reason, I can’t stand the books he writes. I still have no clue where this comes from. Even Freud would be confused (no offense Froyd fans, but I’ve read some of his theories, I think Freud was a little confused in general).
Stay Ginchy!