stellar dreams

A melody with a meaning hidden in its notes creates a story, whether it is read or sung. In the curious case of Electra Sparks and Brayden Haynes, the shift of an airplane sparks unspoken lyrics to an aria at the beginning of their tuneful journey. Their songs are not complete without the pedal notes of a favor to an honorable friend, the brass of a mischievous little brother, the clash of jealousy, the lightsome flash of unexpected humor, and the underlying countermelody of guarded inner secrets. Follow the descant of Electra Sparks, a musical student with a truly dazzling knack for kindness, as her gracile life takes the shape of a meaningful melody. A demure heart, too big for her chest, and a level of intelligence to match, Electra improves her musical abilities in the setting of DREAM Conservatory. Brayden Haynes, a famous heartthrob, has an innumerable amount of passion for music. His interesting tall height and observant blue eyes, search for the one component missing to h...

" All they needed was a prank that went wrong and a Café down the road to capture each other's hearts." Winning second place in The Stellar Awards 2018 , Cafè Jokes  surely stood out from the crowd with the hillarious pranks and unique plot.  For the uninformed,  The Stellar Awards is a yearly competition that opens every May, enabling writers to showcase their talents. Holding eleven genres and thirty slots, only  three  winners are selected. It goes by the following criteria; book cover & other graphics (ten points), plot (twenty points), characters (ten points), writing style (thirty points), and grammar, punctuation & tone (ten points).  Below is a review of chapter one and two of quicklydolan 's  amazing work.  COVER                        score: 9/10                        ...

I used to read about love -- lie awake every two a.m and earnestly open my Wattpad account to read the cheesiest, most clichè stories of all time. Under the covers and tucked away in the dark, I would be absorbed in a safe bubble I call my own. I would squeak and squeal and explain to myself how female protagonists were such oblivious people to the point it felt unreal. Bad boys became such a common sort of persona for me, as they slowly fell for the nerds. I read a story once, called The Good Girl's Bad Boy. It was about a girl named Tessie, who falls in love with her childhood bully, Cole Stone. The author's heart wrenching lines were able to pinch my heart in its hungover two am state. It was there that I realized it. Love, will be nothing compared to the most detailed of stories, and most realistic characters when the right time comes. You'll hate the boys at first, despise them, and curse the male hormone called testosterone. And when you become seventeen or eightee...

I was a crappy writer. Let's face it. The past was a cobblestoned road of mistakes and errors, and truthfully, I am still  a crappy writer. But writing's my dream and my happiness, so why in the world would I stop doing it?  Those were the shuffling rackets of thoughts encompassing my brain when I decided to open Graphic Shoppe .  I wanted to write, not to design, but I couldn't hide the significant part of my heart that had the admiration for decorating. It was another risk. Another jump I'd have to take in order to be where I wanted to be.  So you can guess what I did. I went for it. I ramsacked Pinterest, while downloading all of the most stylish fonts dafont.com had to offer. Designing apps invaded the space of my mobile phone, while I would bury my head in beneath my palms to ask if I would push through. What if I don't succeed? If people don't read what I write, what's the use of a graphic shoppe?  But those wh...

      In the deepest, darkest parts of the worldwide web lived an unhinged website. No one wanted to read it , yet it was filled with an indescribable type of euphoria that triggered bright beams of merriment. Drenched in pink and filled with amateur posts, it served as a second home to a passionate writer who was eager to let the world know of her craft.  But with thorough research, she discovered another site, one more part of the world that was welcome and comforting. She wrote and wrote every single day -- poured her heart out with every sentence and blasted all types of emotions in her  words, praying  that people would read it. And the results were absoloutely overwhelming. People  cared . They read, and gave attention, and rooted for her. So she migrated to that new home, desserting the isolated, pink house and traded it for another, as she exerted all her efforts and time into getting better. That was  me , two years ago. M...