New Content, reviews, and what I've been up to.

It's been a while since I posted stuff on here, and I know that's entirely my fault. The summer has been... hard... on me.

But now I'm back! YAY!

I've recently started reading again. I know, it may sound weird to you guys that use the word "again", but the truth is, I haven't bothered reading other people's stuff. Mainly because I was afraid it would interfere with my own writing--which is completely bullocks.

However, that also means I've started reviewing stuff. All my reviews can be seen on goodreads. However, I've also decided to post them on a blog. You can see the link at the top, or simply go to http://www.majadianareviews.blogspot.com and take a look. Share it around if you think someone may like what I review.

I hope everyone is okay <3

MWAH!

Anna Todd, One Direction Fanfiction and Why Some People just Suck.

I’ve been watching 50 shades of Grey drama all month, and now, a new cause just popped up on my screen. And it is without a doubt the most stupid thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

I'm legit sitting here, unable to believe my own eyes.

It's been a while since I posted anything on here—actually; it’s been a while since I posted anything except random chitchat and my stories.

And while I was gone, something AMAZING happened.

Amazing, I promise.




You see, a wattpadder not only got a publishing deal (Woot! Woot) they also sold the movie rights to their Wattpad book.




And of course, I’m absolutely thrilled, excited—maybe feeling a bit bloated even—about this magnificent offer that one of our own has broken through to the outside in such a beautiful way. And surely, I think, every other wattpadder must be just as excited as me for this kind of news that changes a lot not just for the author, but also for the whole Wattpad community, right?





What I found, is that apparently it’s not enough to be happy for another being. No, you have to make sure you can approve of this work because your opinion is the only one that matter.

And because Anna Todd’s story, “After," happened to be a one direction fan fiction, then all hell breaks loose. Fans of the band and people who hate the band is all yapping about how horrible this deal is. How Anna’s story not only depicts Harry Styles as a bad person, but also how Anna’s story portrays reading, writing and wattpad as a bad thing…

That is a lot of claims.

And now they’ve all taken to twitter. Now, I’m not an avid twitter user. In all honesty, I feel like the character limit is simply too hard for me, but yeah. I’m on there. And what do I see? Stupid ass hashtags demanding Anna Todd’s head for the atrocity of accepting a pretty nice deal that ANYONE would have taken if they were in her shoes.



If you don’t believe me? Check #SuspendAnnaTodd and #SueAnnaTodd on twitter.

Basically, they’re demanding that:

1. Anna Todd doesn’t publish her fanfiction.


2. One Direction sues her.


3. Twitter suspend her.

Just like with 50 Shades, I refuse to go into a debate about the literary merit of the books. I have my preferences, and they’re probably different from everyone of you who reads this blog.





I also refuse to address the fact that it’s apparently “glorifying abusive relationships." Because, Abusive relationships is a thing—seriously, it is. Look it up on Amazon—and some people enjoy reading those for a variety of reasons. Just like they enjoy reading about taboo subjects or even dinosaur porn. Maybe they’re trying to play “spot the warning signs” or simply to pass the time. It doesn’t matter. It’s a thing. If you want to do something about it, write a book to counter it. Or make sure you do yours to educate and warn the young people in your life.

But you know what you shouldn’t do? Bash an author simply because she got more popularity than the literally thousands of authors who writes the same thing.

However, what I will address is the following claims:

“After is making Harry Styles look bad.”

“After is making Wattpad look bad.”

“After is making directioners look bad.”

^All the things I’ve read today.

Let’s take the first:


“After is making Harry Styles and One Direction look bad.”
This one, I personally disagree with and there's a few reasons why:

1. Anna’s story—while featuring all the boys—is in another reality where “One Direction” doesn’t even exist. They’re just five completely random guys, who happen to be friends.

2. In the published book—as well as the movie—Harry’s name will be changed. And even if it wasn’t, a quick search on www.howmanyofme.com shows that there are 399,900 people in USA named “Harry” as their first name and 7,593 people with the last name “Styles.”

And a stunning amount of 10 people is literally named “Harry Styles" in the United States. 

Of course, that could be a lie—the internet always lies—but the point is: Anyone could go out and change their name to “Harry Styles” if they technically wanted to. Here in Denmark, I think it costs like 500 Danish Crowns. (I once met a guy named “Elvis”…. He had changed his name to that from his birth given name)

The point is, the Main Character in After, is based on Harry’s looks and name. The personality, earnings, talents, sayings, is completely of Anna’s own imagination and is, therefore, not a true representative of Harry Styles.

3. For those people, who claim they can’t think of Harry the same way after reading the book: It’s not the author’s fault. Anna hasn’t drilled it into her reader how they should feel. Instead, if you’re anxious about this, make sure to explain this to whoever claims After changed how they view Harry: They’re not the same person. At all.

“After is making Wattpad look bad.”

^No. Just no. You know what makes Wattpad look bad? Users who worry what others will think and therefore resorts to name-calling, personal insults and bullying to make a point. And that doesn’t just account for Wattpad—but for everywhere.

“After is making directioners look bad.”

^No, sweetie. You’re making yourself look bad. It’s top notch to stand up for what you believe in, and by all means, write a reply/comment/anything voicing your thoughts. But to resort to name-calling, personal insults to not only Anna Todd, but also her fans, family, friends AND husband? That’s what makes you look bad.





The most astonishing about all this, though? Is that it's literally YOU that makes all of this a success. If you don't like the book. Don't support it. Don't talk about it to let others know it exist, just go about your day and ignore it.

And if you want to do something else, to help get what you want on the shelves, then promote stuff you really like instead. Instead of wasting time bashing an author, and getting into fights with countless of fans, go read a book and tell all your friends about that one instead. That's the only way you can actually change anything here. Plus, it'll make my timeline look less cluttered. :)




Peace.

Also, #SupportAnnaTodd and support the #VerifyAnnaTodd tags instead. They're much better causes. 

Happy New Year!

I’m totally late to the party here—I know.

But, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I’ve seen many people update their various social media’s with look-backs of the year that has passed. So here’s my small recollection of 2013, along with my hopes and wishes for 2014.

January 2013 –

I’d just met the most wonderful guy. It took me approximately five days to decide that I was going to meet him—at whatever cost. Furthermore, I was a finalist in the Watty Awards 2012, in the category: Fantasy – On the Rise. I had approximately 600 followers, and one completed story. I was certain that I could publish Rising Star in no time.

That was how I started. A year ago, I was at that place. Back in September, I made a small list of accomplishments, and told you all how important it was to hold them dear. 

Here comes a full list of my accomplishments in 2013:

- I won 200 dollars in the Watty Awards.

- I rewrote Rising Star.

- I finished Shattered Star.

- I wrote and finished Retro-cognition.

- I wrote and finished I Made You.

- I wrote and finished Burning Star, marking my first time to finish a trilogy.

- I started Immortalia, who was my first book to reach the oh-so-desired big red in numbers (reads, votes, comments)

- Rising Star was featured on Wattpad. And it finally got its big red in reads and votes.

- I flew across the ocean to New York, alone, to meet my amazing boyfriend.

- I started more stories than I can count. I got more ideas than I can remember.

- I met some truly amazing people, and finally felt as if I belonged somewhere.

- I completed the NaNoWriMo challenge.

- I reached over 5000 followers.

- I read many books.

- I wrote many words.

- I cut off my hair, and promised not to ruin it again.

- I said goodbye to my oldest rat—may she rest in peace.

In 2013, I had many good times to overshadow the bad times. It seems as if it was yesterday, and I will always hold these times dear to me in the time to come. But most of all, I will remember 2013 as the year where I really overcame the fear of giving up. I will remember September 2013 as the time where I had no conviction to go on, but I found a way around it and sat down to write.

I didn’t write because I had to, or because I needed to. I sat down and wrote because I wanted to write.

So therefore, my new year’s resolution for 2014 is very simple:

I want to write more books.

A real life curse.

I’ve been working on a few things lately. Mostly trying to survive by cursed birthday week, but I’ve had other works laying around. I can’t disclose anything right now, but I’m looking forward to sharing it all with you.

First, let me tell you about a real life curse. I’m not particular superstitious—it’s not my thing. However, I have a curse, and it goes back to my twelfth birthday.

As mentioned in my last blog post, that day my grandfather—my mom’s dad—was buried. Most of my mom’s family was Jehovah’s Witnesses, so there wasn’t any particular reason to reschedule. We don’t celebrate birthdays, and never actually has. With that said, though. It wasn’t amusing to be bawling on my birthday.

I tried to be optimistic, though. At least I got cake... And my family was there. Some my aunts and uncles—who weren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses—even slipped me a coin or two as a birthday present. As sad as it may sound, my grandfather’s funeral was also the only birthday I’ve seen any of my relatives outside my closest family.

But it didn’t end there. Denmark has many crazy cultural differences from the rest of the world. One of the differences that aren’t so crazy was the tradition of sharing candy with your whole class on your birthday. I couldn’t do that—not because my family forbade me to, though. But because my birthday always landed in the Danish Autumn/Fall break.

When I was thirteen, I met a guy who happened to be my first actual boyfriend. His birthday was four days after mine, and I was psyched when he asked me to be his girlfriend, and then he proceeded to go on a vacation for the duration of the week.

I was excited and then put on hold for a week. My birthday were spent texting him from my computer because I didn’t have any credit on my phone. Later I found out that the texting actually cost over  100 dollars.

Then on my fourteenth birthday, I got into a huge fight with my roommate at the boarding school. We ended up insisting on moving apart. It was the first birthday spent at the school (because it was a Sunday, and I went back there) and I was busy fighting.

Fifteen, I was fighting with an ex-boyfriend, and had to break up with my at-that-time boyfriend. I also twisted my ankle.

Sixteen, I found out my parents had to be separated.

Seventeen, my best friend forgot it, and only barely saved it by buying me a jawbreaker candy. (I really like candy) I then proceeded to go to a LGBT club, which wouldn’t have been a problem, if it weren’t for the fact I was stranded in a foreign city with no way of getting home.

Eighteen, my dad found out I’d been smoking weed, and he wasn’t even angry—he was disappointed. This, to me, was even worse, because if he’d been angry and yelled at me, I could have pulled the “You just don’t get me” card. I spent my birthday party trying to suck up while my boyfriend at that time was high on coke and apparently was punching my dad’s tree. I also had a massive hangover the day after.

Nineteen, I’d earlier found my best friend—a girl—in bed with my boyfriend, and while I had lied and told everyone that it was “cool”—It wasn’t. So when I had to spend my birthday at her place because she shared my birthday and held a party, which all our friends were going to—it sucked.

Twenty was a hoot. Except for the fact that we’d spent this humongous amount of money on a party for 60 people were only 21 showed. My roommate at the time almost bailed because she didn’t have a ride, so my mom went to pick her up. It didn’t make it better that my older brother had been out drinking the day before—apparently it’s a big thing when the Christmas beer is released—so he couldn’t show.

Twenty-one, I was admitted into a hospital in Germany, with humongous pains.

Twenty-two, my two male rats died on the 16^th. My birthday was the 17^th.

Of course, this doesn’t always happen at the 17^th of October, but the week around it. And it’s a stressful time for me. So when I this year, decided to do absolutely nothing of importance—I was prepared for the worst. And it seemed to be eventless. I spent my whole birthday playing League of Legends with my brother who was here all week.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when my curse continued on the 19^th this year. For the first time in my life, I was stuck in an elevator. Everything had gone somewhat smoothly, no disasters that were of the normal “life hates me” variety. At least, not until there. I was terrified, even though I was only stuck between the basement and the first floor, I was sure that I was going to die in there. It didn’t help when my mom decided to sing either.

So yes. The curse continues. But I’m still living. I have some incredible friends now, and even though I continuously try to avoid facing reality, I’m gonna live.

I know that I’m still waiting for the next disaster to happen, but—knock on wood—maybe the curse is losing its power. And who knows? Maybe the rest of this year has something surprising in store for me. It could happen.

Anyway, the above ramble is why I’ve been deliberately off the grid for the last week. I’m slowly getting back into my normal self. I’ve finally managed to make myself a writing place, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time—and here I am writing at this awesome desk, sitting in this awesome chair, and listening to some sweet tunes on the TV I finally managed to plug to my computer.

With that said, though. I can’t promise updates on everything. Nanowrimo is approaching, and I will be writing a completely new work for that. Well, at least, I’m writing the last book of my “The Lores of Lyra”, and I’m psyched!

I hope everybody else is well, and that your past week has been disaster free. Thank you for all the birthday wishes—it made me happy.

See you on Wattpad!

A Bag Full of Sunshine

I tend to shy away from conflicts. 

Ignoring negativity—or any variations thereof—has always been my preferred method of coping. I’ve spent the majority part of my life from when I was six years old and up until last year trying to be invisible in any situation where a conflict may arise. It’s not always easy—it takes a lot of practice. In fact, if not done correct, it can spur off even more conflicts which tend to be uglier than the original argument. Which is why to successfully ignoring a conflict, you need to be involved at first.

I’m also stubborn as hell. It’s courtesy of my two loving parents. My mom is the most achingly stubborn person I’ve ever encountered in my entire life. She’s the complete opposite of my dad who’ll run for the hills the moment there’s even the slightest hint of trouble. Over the years, their personalities have rubbed off on each other, but after over 20 years of cooperating while trying to raise six kids; it’s still easy to see who gets the last words—my mom.

Now, you may wonder why I’m telling you this, and honestly? I don’t know. Sometimes things just need to get out. This is one of those times, sadly.

In Denmark there’s a saying, which goes along the way of “I’ll agree with you, and you’ll leave me alone.” It’s a horrible translation, I know that, but it’s my dad’s attitude to plenty of things that my mom feels strongly about. She'll get it her way, and he gets peace. It’s beautiful how that works sometimes.

Unfortunately, with the mixture of my wonderful and loving parents’ genes, I’m around hundred different definitions of messed up. And while I’m being honest, I have to admit: It’s not always easy.

On one hand, I want to stand up and be vocal about the things I believe in, on the other hand, I really like my face and the permanent fake smile plastered upon it—I don’t want to jeopardize that smile. It’s what gives me the courage to be around people without cowering away in a corner, hugging myself while trying to get that smile back.

Back when I was a teenager, I met a woman who saw right through that smile. She called my bluff, and then she did the thing that shattered my very existence—she told me she knew. This woman was supposed to be a help, and for all I know, she intended to be. But she wasn’t around long enough to close that rapidly opening wound that suddenly spew doubt like it was a hot spring geyser.

So I had to start all over again. I had to learn how to be invisible again. Only problem was that I couldn’t. The foundation that I’d build my entire persona on was cracked, and it was just a matter of when it would fall to the ground and crumble. I made do by an occasional fake smile; this one not permanently plastered on my face, but instead short-term, and to compensate I had to accept the fact that sometimes I just didn’t feel like smiling.

For some reason, I managed to uphold it for an additional four years. It wasn’t until September 2011 that everything exploded around me. It was the most horrible time of my life. Only surpassed by October 12, 2001 where my grandfather died in front of me, and then buried five days later on my birthday.

However, I faced it head-on and sought help. In the span of six months, I lost everything that meant something to me while I gave up on a lot of stuff that could have meant the world to me. I didn’t want to live, but I was stubborn and refused to give in before trying for help. This meant that I had to wait, for the duration of these six months, to start what would prove to be a year of flat out personal hardships. In the time, I broke down many times. I found a way to get it out without hurting myself—the result is called “Rising Star” and can be read on wattpad.

I had a gazillion conversations, tests, surveys, and meetings with people who tried their best to figure out what was wrong with me. There were many ideas of what it could be, but it wasn’t until January 2013 that I got the result of the many tests. I was suffering from schizotypal personality disorder. In the times since then, I’ve been trying to work on this “ignoring negativity” attitude. Instead of ignoring it all together, I’ve been trying to embrace it, let it be for a moment, then try to move on to better things.

And it’s hard—it’s real fucking hard. (Pardon my French)

The internet is a big help, though. I can be in myself behind my little screen. I can turn it off if I need a breather, and then I can actually use an ignore function. It’s amazing like that. I could be safe, but open at the same time. And it led to me being more open than ever. I took a giant step and flew overseas to meet a boy that I like.

However, one thing I forgot is that the internet is the worst place for any kind of confrontation. Not only is there limited emotional connection because you can’t read body language, and misunderstanding happens every second because of a misplaced emoticon. Also, people can use the ignore function on you so you’ll never get a chance to talk it out.

I have many faults, and I’d be glad to list all of them at some point. I don’t fool myself to think I don’t have issues. I do. I have many of them. But even though I’m inadequate in plenty of ways, it’s not an excuse not to try. I will always try to be the best human I can. It’s how I was raised.

So this is me, trying to do just that. I’m trying to improve to become the version of Maja that I’d like to be. And I have a long way still. There’s going to be moments when I rant to a friend over something so unbelievable stupid that it’ll hurt to think of afterwards. There’ll be moments when I’m a broken record, clinging to my version of the truth and insist it’s the only one. There’ll be moments when I say something that’ll make me want to bury myself in a hole and never come out. And I’m not sorry for that. Because if these past years of endless emotional torture have taught me anything it’s that, at some point, it’ll be spring again, and I can come out of the deep pit I’ve hid in.

It’s not spring yet, though. And it sucks. So now I’m gonna do my thing and shy away from the confrontation because, to be honest, I don’t have it in me to be courageous right now, and without my fake smile plastered onto my face—I don’t see that happening anytime soon either. I'm not a bag full of sunshine right now. In the end, I can just hope that the people who surround me will try to understand me as I will try to understand them.

Writer’s block? More like emotional block.

I don’t think I’m one of the people who get writer’s block. It’s not because I’m a creation machine that just spews out more words than I can count (Although, I do suck at math). It’s more because my perception of “writer’s block” might be different than the general view on it.

To me, a writer’s block is a literal block. You know, the kind of block that says: “Nope. Can’t write here… or there… or there… and not there either.”

^I’ve never had that. There’s been times where I’ve struggled with plot, or character building, or when I’ve written myself into a corner that I can’t see myself getting out of. There are also stories I’ve abandoned because of lack of interest or because it was too far gone to even save.

But an actual writer’s block? I’ve never really experienced.

Instead, I’ve had numerous times of “emotional blocks”. You know, the times where something in your life is so downright shitty that it just affects you so badly that it spews over into your writing.

It’s when you’re writing a love story, but you just went through a break-up. That isn’t easy.

Or when you’re writing a happy ending, but everything about you just seems sad.

Or my favorite, when you try to make a strong character that can overcome almost anything, then realize you just want to curl up under your blanket and cry because reality isn’t like your fictional world.

And it isn’t fair. At all.

Some people suggest to “write it out”, and I’ve tried. It turned into the most whiny poem ever, and it sucked so badly. I’ve tried urging on a chapter where I’ve had to delete all three thousand words because at the end of the second chapter my character was so depressed they just wanted to commit suicide, which didn’t fit into my plot at all.

For some, it might work. And to you, I have to say that I envy you.

The emotional block is my worst enemy. I simply can’t channel all that sadness and rage into my writing. And why should I? I don’t want it in my life. There’s no need to force my characters to endure it either—they get enough trouble from me already.

It goes the other way around, as well. When I won the Watty Awards, I was so happy and motivated that I simply HAD to write something. Which resulted in a scene, in the sequel where my characters shared a joyful moment, some extra powers were added—something I’m gonna pay for later as it’s a crucial plot hole—and all in all, everything was just freaking dandy. That didn’t quite fit into the situation my characters was in at the moment. Vega had just had a seizure like attack, and a magical Star Lion had to watch over her. Joshua and Eric was worried, and were about to embark on the next phase to take on the Black Holes for good. Yet, when the two guys formed a magical bond, Vega was laughing her ass off on the ground—despite the fact it was serious business.

Luckily, I had a friend, who helped me through it. My best friend actually. He’d grown somewhat attached to Joshua, and helped me calm down from my pink cloud of happiness. It’s not perfect still, but more to the point where I’d envisioned it.

My point is. If you’re a writer who can’t write anything at times in your life, then you have writer’s block. I’m not one of those. I’ve got the emo block instead.

You might be wondering why I say this now. And I can only say it’s because I’ve finally managed to return to my actual “good” state of mind. Now, if I just could battle my issues with procrastination—like this blog is—then I’d be all good to go. 

Writers and Copyright

Some of you know me personally, and some of you might not. Most of you know that I’m not easily offended—it comes with having a big family with a horrible humor (I still love it, though)

However, recently I discovered what ticks me off the most, and I’ve been wanting to write this ever since it happened, yet I knew that I had to take some time to cool off.

It didn’t work.

I am still pissed off, offended and at the point where I want to punch my laptop every time I think of it. I know that I should simply ‘let it go’ or ‘just remember I’m better than that’. And yes, I know that. Doesn’t mean it’s that easy, though.

I never aspired to be a writer. Honestly, I didn’t. I decided to try it out for a while, and because of the community on Wattpad, and the friends I made—I wanted to continue. Slowly, I realized that there were people who enjoyed what I wrote.

So, I tried to uphold a certain standard. I am terrified of copyright theft because it’s so easy to accuse someone else of it.

When I wrote Rising Star, in the first draft, there was a scene that used the elements (i.e. Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Spirit) to revive a person. I hated that part, mostly because the idea came after reading Richelle Mead’s ‘Vampire Academy’ combined with P.C & Kristin Cast’s ‘House of Night’.

In the second draft, I rewrote that scene completely, simply to get rid of the elemental magic. Not because I had stolen it, but because it made me feel slightly dirty to have it in there when I personally knew where the idea came from.

That’s how much I hate the act of stealing ideas.

Now, I know there are other similarities, which can be made between Rising Star and a bunch of other stories. Some say it reminds them of Neil Gaiman’s “Stardust”. Other thinks the whole thing with the Lores of Lyra is a bit too close to Phillip Pullman’s ‘Dark Materials’.

And that’s okay. I know that I didn’t make a conscious decision to get inspired from them, and it’s the readers’ own perception of the story, which sees these similarities. That doesn’t mean I “stole” from them in any way because I didn’t—I haven’t even read them.

So when I discover that someone accuses me and my new story of not only copyright infringement (Derivative works, like stealing characters, settings, etc. for fx. Fan Fiction or spin-offs/sequels) but downright plagiarism (Copy/pasting a work and passing it off as my own) then I’m offended. I get really offended.

The part that pisses me off the most is the fact I’ve never read said story, and when I decided to check, then while there can be some similarities (They both have words and sentences—even paragraphs. They both feature a female main character, and they both have a submissive role at some part in the story, and the title is both the name of the species of the character) then it doesn’t even warrant a copyright infringement, and it doesn’t mean I’m stealing/plagiarizing anything.

I get it. We’re all writing online—most are waiting for their big chance. The constant threat of having our work stolen is pretty evident, and it should be. There are too many people who thrive of this stuff. But before accusations are thrown around, then you as the author have a responsibility to check it out before broadcasting it to various medias, and start trouble for no apparent reason.

Even the claim of an alleged copyright theft can ruin a writer’s career. Not only does it create a doubt about the integrity of the accused writer, but it can also be extremely hurtful if not dealt with appropriately.

As it was, I’ve been through some days where I’ve wondered whether it’s even worth continuing this hobby. If I’m going to endure this, every time I pass another milestone—without even being paid for it—is it really worth it?

For the first two days, the answer was no. I wanted to rage, I wanted to whine, I wanted to delete every single word I’ve ever written, every profile I’ve ever made online and simply give up.

On this day, though. I feel a bit better. I’m still tired, hurt and downright pissed off. But I’m also more clear in my head. I realize now that wanting to quit because of a bit of hardship was a pretty stupid thing to even consider. I know that there’s no lawsuit going on, and I know that I didn’t do anything wrong.

I’m trying to look on the positive side, as well. If this becomes a thing, then it means more exposure to me. That’s almost always a good thing. I mean, would I ever have read ’50 shades of grey’ if I hadn’t wanted to see for myself if the writing really were bad? I don’t think so.

This probably won’t be the first time this happens. I’m sure that my other projects are similar to one story or another, as well. And it’s almost inevitable.

However, for my fellow writers and readers, when you see something similar to a story you’ve read/written, check out these things:

- Are the huge chunks of the work that is the same?

- Are the characters names, traits, and relationships the same?

- Does the world (especially for fantasy/Sci-fi) have the same descriptions, names, spells, traditions?

^If the answer is yes, then you might have reason to be afraid.

However, make sure to get a second opinion, and—if possible—a person who understands copyright law. Don’t throw out accusations into the public without being at least 80% certain there’s even a case to begin with. And if you finally want to resolve it without potential expensive lawsuit/authorities, make sure to message the authors involved. Don’t tell a friend who’ll tell a friend without checking it, for then to broadcast it across the internet without checking it.

You can’t copyright ideas. In some cases, that feels like a load of bull—I think so too. But, if a person wants to write up a mythology about stars and how they can save the world, then technically, I can’t do jack about it. And if I want to write about an ancient cursed fantasy creature, which have been forced into submission because humans do stupid things out of fear. Then I can. And it’s not a copyright violation.

Luckily, this issue seems to be resolved for now. And I’m glad. I don’t wish to cause any trouble for myself or other writers. I am just writing this, so you know what can happen once you’ve thrown around accusations, without being sure of it.

With that said, I probably should get back to writing again.