Hello!

Woohoo! No writer's block, so here's the update just two days after the last!

Oh yes, about updates: I'm writing as much as I possibly can without dying from lack of sleep, nutrition and movement!

(Though I have gone without all of them at different points for this!)

So, I think the day before yesterday I got an anonymous review asking me about:

Writer's Block: The Ginga's Guide

To anyone who writes, it is utter hell. So, here are three quick things that worked for me (I'm a Ginga...):

1. Don't back down - a lot of sites say aww, take a break and go bake cookies and leave it for a day.

Doesn't work for me (though everyone's different) - you have to keep going at the chapter, keep sitting down and staring at it, keep trying.

If I walk away from it, then I'll just stop altogether - which is my BIGGEST fear on Fanfiction...

2. Write up all the things that are stopping you. Everything.

With me, it's usually 'I don't know how to get from A to B'. Also is it that you don't like your dialog? Are your characters not working?

Isolate the problems from the rest of your writing and then..

3. Write up all the things that are working in the scene.

Don't be modest, go in and say, 'Good Lord, the characterization of Jimmy the kiwi is excellent!'

Write everything that you know is working. Differentiate the good from the bad and you might find you have more material than you thought.

Alright, it is kind of hard to give helpful advice in an Author's Note, so if you are stuck in that horrible little dungeon of despair but you've found these tips helpful, then send me a PM or a review and I will try and help as best as I can. Again, these may only work for me, I have no idea, but I am pretty sure perseverance is key to everyone.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! To everyone who sent me a review!

Put simply, you inspire me to write.

Thanks!

Okay, I am going to go and...take a break and start writing again...ah, I'm a sad person...

So, please Review!

And ENJOY!

All of Me - Jon Schmidt (Review Piece)

Arabesque - yeah, I use it a lot. Position in which the dancer has one leg raised behind and arms outstretched.

I asked a group of second year girls where Madame Cox's office was. After a few comments about my prolific dining hall arguments, they directed me down a small corridor where most of the teachers had their offices. I went past the doors until I found the one with the plaque:

Madame Barbara Cox,

Senior Ballet Mistress

Scholarship Coordinator

Biting back my excited nerves, I knocked.

"Come in." Came her voice.

I turned the handle and went in. Madame Cox's office was not as nice as Madame Esme's. It was smaller, and windowless. But the walls were painted cream, and framed posters of various ballet productions hung from them, all signed by the casts. There were also photos of Madame Cox with a few other dancers all posing in their costumes. The lady herself sat at her desk, a big pile of papers in front of her. She looked studious with her black rimmed glasses and turtleneck jersey, but I could see the darkening circles under her eyes.

"Miss Swan," She regarded me wearily, "What can I do for you?"

"Ma'am I..." I'd rushed into this a little. My reasons were messy; since Edward seemed not to have any connection with Tanya, he might have felt a connection with me. If Edward had felt something, then perhaps all I needed to do was show him that I still had that emotion he wanted...and then maybe, just maybe... there were too many 'ifs' and 'buts' to allow myself to think further. Realising I'd zoned out, I quickly came back to Madame Cox, "I have something to show you."

She raised her eyebrow, her fingers still intertwined in front of her. "And what would that be?" She asked.

I refrained from biting my lip and brought out my pointe shoes from behind my back, "I kind of have to show you in one of the studios."

She pursed her lips, looking distastefully at the shoes. "Don't you have a concussion and an order not to dance? Or have I changed my entire choreography on a lie?"

"Ma'am, the symptoms of my concussion have all gone," I told her earnestly, "I can dance."

She didn't look convinced, but said, "And what is it you want to show me?"

"I changed the dance," I said quietly. Judging by what she'd just said about changing the choreography, I doubted she'd give me a chance.

"By which you mean?"

I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like I was coming in here to confess a crime, "I changed my solo dance last night."

"And yet you injured yourself the day before, during Miss Weber's accident?"

"I thought maybe Doctor Hill would forget to tell the teachers."

She smiled a little at that, "My dear, Doctor Hill wouldn't let you off for an injury even if it were a broken nail."

"Exactly!" I cried out frustratedly, then snapped my mouth shut. Teacher, right. "I mean...ma'am Doctor Hill is keeping me off much longer than necessary – it's ridiculous, and I – I really want this solo."

"The number of students I've lost because of him..." Madame Cox sighed and stood up. "Lead on, Miss Swan." She said tiredly.

I nervously walked up to the second floor with her. Students were already coming down the stairs for dinner. Some of them gave me stares, remembering my little display at lunch. "What the hell is the bitch doing?" I heard Lauren Mallory's voice. She was descending the stairs with Jessica, Violet and Eliza. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' They all looked at my leotard and dance bag with contempt.

"Miss Mallory, you will report to my office tomorrow morning," Madame Cox said sharply, loud enough for the whole parade of people to hear. Lauren's face turned pale. "This school is no place for your foul language."

"Yes Ma'am," Lauren said quietly, swallowing. I tried to keep a smile off my face.

When we reached the same studio as I'd used last time, I had to glance at Edward's studio. Was he still in there? I hoped not; he couldn't see me, not yet. We went in, switched the bright strip lights on and I quickly hooked up my iPod. Then I sat down and tied up my pointe shoes, feeling rushed because Madame Cox was standing at the door. At least she wasn't tapping her foot...I did a few quick stretches – I did not need another injury. It felt strange performing in front of just one person, but I had to do this! I stood up, a bolt of nerves shooting up my body. I looked to Madame Cox. She gave a curt smile, telling me I could begin.

I pressed play and then stepped back and rose onto pointe, lifting my leg up behind me. The music began. I felt the stirring in my belly as the familiar notes reached out for me and pulled me into a world that we had defined together.

As the notes went down, so did I, reaching forwards and raising my leg so that it made a straight line. I could still do it! I tried not to look for a reaction from Madame Cox as I rose back up and instead step turned downstage, and then spun in a slow pirouette.

I stepped my foot back, feeling as though I'd only just discovered I could do it...and I stepped forward, as if a whole world – the world of ballet – was blossoming before me. I would join that world, I knew, and I curtsied, marking my entrance. And then the fast notes came, and the entrance was almost over. More notes joined the first until everything came together...and then all tentativeness left me, and I flew.

I remembered the whole dance easily – the music told me what I needed to do. Madame Cox became less of an individual and more of an anonymous observer as I leapt and spun. I was showing whoever was watching what I could do.

And as the final chorus lead me on once more, I delved into the music and brought it out with me, in the way that only dance can, and truly showed it to the world. I finished in arabesque. But once the last note had been played, I was cut loose, and Madame Cox's presence was certainly there. I lowered my leg and turned to face her. My breathing was heavier than usual, and sweat beaded on my back.

Madame Cox was looking at me with her chin raised high, making her even taller than usual. I couldn't glean anything off her expression. She was simply studying me.

I felt the need to say something and break the horrible silence that she didn't seem to notice, "It – " my breathing was very heavy. "It's not exactly polished..."

She nodded her head down slowly, then took a step towards me, looking me up and down, "Why did you dance like that?" She asked me. Her voice was the same blank calm as usual.

I frowned. I could hardly tell her it had something to do with Edward Masen...wait, that wasn't what she's asked... "I don't know," I said, "...I was thinking about why I started ballet. It was just...the music tied in to describe it..."

She nodded, "Yes, you had that air of innocence about you."

I stood there awkwardly. What was she saying? Were my moves too basic?

"I assume you would like me to put your choreography back into the piece?"

"Well I...yes, Ma'am."

Her eyes seemed to get sharper every second, "And I assume you would like to be the one to dance it."

What? Suddenly, my protectiveness kicked in. No one else could dance this! The steps...they were all linked to me...even though I didn't have the best technique...it was like giving away your favourite childhood toy. Yes, someone might actually use it or play with it better, but it's still your toy! What about all the memories? What about the connections my dance had to me?

Madame Cox was watching me closely. I'm sure my badly concealed disappointment answered her question. She sighed and took off her glasses, "When can you dance again?" She asked.

"Saturday, Ma'am."

"You are one hundred percent healthy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, a little hope coming up inside.

"And if your symptoms were to return you will be responsible enough to stop?"

I hadn't been before, but I didn't think I ought to tell her that. They wouldn't come back, "Yes Ma'am."

"There is a lot of work to be done on it," she said abruptly. "Your extensions ought to be better. An allegro is no reason to be sloppy, and if your penche needs to face sideways to the audience, or no one will see the lines." She put her hands behind her back, and looked at me with those powerful black eyes. "This is a big risk you ask me and your class to take. If I change the choreography again then we lose another day of rehearsal. We have two rehearsals to go, Miss Swan, one of which you can't even attend."

I held my breath. Oh God no...It was more than just Edward Masen – the reason why I wanted to dance this solo...it was because I really did love dance, and the elation of dancing this particular piece...my heart was breaking again.

"However," Madame Cox continued, "I don't believe either of the routines we have been rehearsing, nor the rest of your classmates can quite grasp the same...understanding you have just displayed." I could hardly stop from smiling. She liked it! Did that mean I could perform?

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said, trying not to sound as overjoyed as I was.

She pursed her lips, "You have a long way to go before performance standard, Miss Swan. I would not tend to presume until you are standing behind that curtain with my absolute approval."

I nodded quickly, feeling like a small, overexcited child who needed calming down. She was letting me do it! I could do it...but I realised she was right. There was still time for her to say no. Now I had to focus.

"Go over the first section," ordered Madame Cox, "I'd like to see that penche again. No music."

I performed the introduction. The emotion was lost without the music, but I knew that I couldn't let myself get surrounded by the music until my technique was so habitual that I could trust myself to perform with quality. Then I would throw myself fully into the music. Apparently my penche was acceptable, considering my lack of experience, but it was badly postured. Madame Cox pressed down my back to it arched and pushed my leg even higher, saying it wasn't quite one-eighty yet.

We went through the whole routine in painstaking detail. Without the support of the music, I sometimes forgot moves, but Madame Cox had the endless patience that all dancers need to develop – three hours of plies and failed pirouettes weren't meant to be exciting, and yet that's what an awful lot of learning ballet is.

"I want you take your movements and make them larger," she said as we rehearsed the middle chorus. "The introduction needs more as well. It all must be bigger on stage, Miss Swan, or this story you have managed to create will be nonexistent for the audience. You do very nice subtle things – when you open your hand during the first bar after the gentlemen's piece it is very, it ought to be a full opening of your entire arm. Subtly doesn't work."

I tried opening out, unbending my arm as my fingers spread. "Yes, better, and as you watch your arm or hand, particularly in the introduction, you want to make them head movements rather than just eyes, understand?"

The rain continued to beat against the windows as the sky slowly darkened. It was warm in the studio, though, and I hardly noticed as the minutes and hours passed, and the shrouded sun went down behind the hills. Having never properly watched myself dance the piece in the mirrors, there was a lot to fix – and Madame Cox was a technique teacher, after all.

"I worked it out so that it wouldn't affect the original choreography," I told her at one point.

She shook her head, surveying the empty studio, "No, the class choreography will be changed. They will fit exactly to your solo. Go stage right at the end of that bar...you will lead them into a spiral shape for the climax, and then they'll circle you. Break out for the final chorus. They will be in the background. Go to the front of the stage."

I did so. If there was one thing I could let myself predict about the coming days, it was that my class was not going to be happy, particularly about being in the background at the end. If they wanted the credit just for 'making me look pretty' then it was at the end – one of the most memorable parts of a performance. I couldn't be bothered feeling any sympathy, but it was a class dance. Was it right to take both the beginning and the end?

"What were you originally finishing in?" Madame Cox was asking me.

"An arabesque," I told her.

She nodded, "Let me see your opening arabesque."

I turned to the side and lifted my leg, my arms reaching out in front.

"And the one at the end?"

"It's the same," I said.

"It shouldn't be," she said. "One would hope that you have changed from your childlike state at the beginning of the piece. You have now experienced dance, but something must be different." She regarded my position. "Lift your leg above the ninety, arch your back up. Look proud, knowledgeable...yes, that's it."

I didn't feel proud or knowledgeable, but I knew what she was getting at. I had to change from my discovery to my joy at becoming a dancer. That was it.

"Eight forty-eight," murmured Madame Cox, looking at her watch. "Once more through, Miss Swan. And you will rehearse here tomorrow?"

"Yes Ma'am," I said.

She sighed, "I don't particularly like encouraging rule breaking...but Martin Hill..." she trailed off, pursing her lips distastefully at the floor. Eventually she snapped out of it and looked at me, "Just try not to...bring attention to your rule breaking."

I nodded, feeling kind of like we were co-conspirators...except she was my teacher.

"Alright, from the beginning, if you please."

I flicked my iPod back to the start and began my dance again. It was difficult remembering both the changes to the choreography and my general technique. Madame Cox, however, had managed to memorize my entire choreography, as well as the class's in just two hours, and she called out when I got lost. With my concentration on technique and timing, there was little of the connection I'd felt when I'd first performed it tonight, but I didn't mind. I didn't want to overuse it, anyway.

There were only a few bars left, and I sautéed, jumping high, feeling the satisfying spring in my legs. I spun in my last pirouette, turning away from the windows.

Tanya Denali was looking through the door window.

Shit! I stumbled on my landing.

"Control!" Madame Cox demanded. I frustratedly lifted my leg up in the final arabesque. Tanya was staring at my position contemptuously, her nostrils flared. The final note played, and I hurriedly went down. What the hell was she doing here? What if she told Edward? "That was good," Madame Cox was saying. "Aside from the ending. Make sure you're spotting."

"Yes Ma'am," I murmured. Tanya finally made eye contact with me and smirked. Then she pushed the door open and walked in.

"Hey Ma'am!" She said, putting on a Barbie-fake smile.

Madame Cox's usually scowling face brightened considerably. "Tanya! How are your classes going?" She asked, walking over to her.

"Good, thanks ma'am. I just saw you in here and thought I'd say hi."

"Ah, yes, we were just rehearsing Miss Swan's solo for the review." She gestured to me. "Have you met?"

Tanya gave me a horribly sweet smile, "Yeah, we've met. Hey, I thought you were sick or something?"

Yeah, coming to think of it, I did feel like vomiting. She was sickening.

Madame Cox leaned in conspiratorially, "Well, Doctor Hill's given her one of those silly rest periods like he used to give Edward. But Miss Swan really does have something to show everyone. You'll be watching?" She inquired.

"Oh yes," said Tanya. "Edward and I are up against Master Carlisle and Mistress Esme."

Madame Cox laughed, "Evenly matched, I think. What are you dancing to?"

"Moonlight Sonata," said Tanya.

She nodded, "A good choice."

"Yeah, we were going to go with Clair de Lune, but Edward and I decided we'd have more chances to show our skill with Beethoven." Thank God they weren't doing Clair de Lune...any remaining connection I had with that piece would have been crushed if I'd watch Edward and Tanya dancing to it – no doubt, beautifully.

I knelt down and untied my pointe shoes. Madame Cox went on, "And how are your sisters? I heard Irina's got the solo for the Chinese Variation for the Nutcracker."

"Yeah," said Tanya flatly. "It's not very big, though. My Mom thought she could've aimed for better."

"Ah, not everyone can be the Sugar Plum Fairy, though. I believe she her technique's perfect for the choreography."

I quickly unplugged my iPod from the stereo. "Ma'am," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder, "I better go before its lights out."

She turned round and gave me a pleasant smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. You might care to take some time to write down the notes I gave you."

"I will, Ma'am," I quickly curtsied a thank you and left, brushing past Tanya, who gave me a quick sneer before turning back to sickly sweet student.

I huffed as the door shut behind me. I liked Madame Cox – she was a great teacher – and I childishly thought that Tanya had brainwashed her.

Before I got to my dorm, I stopped in one of the alcoves and slipped my hoodie and trackpants back on, praying Madame Bansch wouldn't be there anyway.

Unlike last night, I wasn't too late – the others were still lounging around in their PJs, chatting and reading magazines on the couches. I tried to be inconspicuous as I put my pointe shoes away and got out of my leotard and tights. Lauren, who hadn't noticed me yet, was sitting with Jessica, Megan, Violet and a few other girls from my class, complaining loudly. "Seriously, she was only like, a Coryphée, and yet she walks around like she's the best teacher in the school."

"Madame Cox is better than Madame Wright, Lauren," said Eliza, who'd been lying on another couch reading Dance Magazine. I thought back to lunchtime. Eliza had been there, but at least she'd said things a little more graciously than the others...

"Whatever," snorted Lauren, not bothering to look at Eliza. "At least Wright let me fool around with Tyler between combinations." Yeah, I thought to myself, thank God for that. "Besides, it's not like she wasn't royally pissed off with little drama queen as well."

"She was so stuck-up on the stairs," said Violet. "What a teacher's pet." I remembered how Lauren had insulted me the other day, and how Violet had snapped at her to shut up. It was ridiculous the way she and some of the others had changed sides so quickly. Maybe I would have been one of them when I was fifteen...but even then, I'd been smart enough not to be on anyone's side other than my own.

Megan leaned in excitedly, "I know, right? When I offered to help her with her solo, she went all snobby and told me to piss off. I mean, I was just offering to help her."

"I guess it goes against her code of conduct to actually accept help from a first year," said Lauren. "That's why she thinks she's so great – getting in with Edward Masen and Tanya Denali and that Alice girl."

"They didn't even want to talk to her," said Jessica with a giggle, "I mean, did you see the way Edward walked out? Even people her own age can't stand her massive ego."

"Bighead Bella," said Lauren with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes, deciding I'd really rather not remain inconspicuous. "Wow Lauren," I said, walking down the aisle of beds to them, "You learnt how to alliterate. Well done!"

She looked at me and stood up, undeterred. "I don't think we invited you into this conversation, Bella." She said my name tauntingly.

"Why not?" I said, smiling, "It's not like I don't already know what you think of me." I sat down on the edge of one of the couches. "Go, talk," I looked at the other girls, who sat looking down uncomfortably, "Or is it not so much fun insulting someone when you're scared they'll hear you?"

"We're just saying it like it is, Bella," said Violet.

I laughed. "Violet, you really know nothing about me. And until you do, please stop basing me on ridiculous clichés you got off the Disney Channel. You have no evidence." I knew I was only making things worse for myself, but I really couldn't be bothered.

Violet leapt up from the floor. "You are such a bitch!"

"I think we've already established that," I said drawlingly.

"Real funny, Bella," said Lauren, folding her arms.

I raised my eyebrows, "How so?"

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes. "You're pathetic."

"And you've just run out of come-backs."

Lauren looked me up and down then took a step towards me, "You really think you're something, don't you?"

"Well you're sure making a big deal out of me, Lauren," I told her, standing up from the edge of the sofa. We were the same height. She glared at me, narrowing her mascara-laden eyes.

"You're gonna pay for being such a bitch," she said quietly.

I rolled my eyes, "Where's that from? James Bond?"

"God you're a bitch!" She took another step towards me. I suddenly felt a sharp pain across my cheek.

"What the hell?" She'd slapped me!

"You deserve it!" She yelled.

"Why!" I demanded, some of my control going with the pain in my cheek.

"Because you're so stuck-up!"

"Why? Because I work hard and get results?"

"You don't work hard! You don't even have any experience! You're too old!"

"What the heck is – "

"EXCUSEZ-MOI!" Every head went to the doorway.

Madame Esme stood there, wearing a black pencil skirt and a white blouse. She looked frighteningly tall, and she began walking right towards me and Lauren. We'd both unconsciously stepped away from each other. "What on Earth is going on?" She demanded, her accent thick.

"We – " "I – " Lauren and I began at the same time.

Madame Esme looked between the two of us, her hands on her hips. "How dare you both make such a racket! I have half a mind to send you to Master Carlisle right now! What happened?"

No one said anything.

Madame Esme looked at me and Lauren, studying us closely. She looked carefully at my face. "She slapped you?"

I nodded tentatively. I hadn't wanted to tell her. I didn't need teachers to know about it – it was my fight.

"She led me on, Ma'am," Lauren said hastily.

Madame Esme shook her head in disgust, her eyes on Lauren, "You know – I don't care what you were arguing about! That behaviour is absolutely disgraceful!" She snapped back to me. "And for you to react by yelling! You could have walked away! This is absolutely appalling! Ballet Dancers pride themselves on having grace and manners no matter what the situation! By being at this school you adhere to those rules at all times! Mon dieu!" She exclaimed, her hand flying up in the air. "I will think of a suitable punishment and you will both come to my office after classes tomorrow. Understand?"

We both nodded.

Madame Esme surveyed the rest of my dorm, "Everyone get in to bed. And if anyone says a single word they will regret it. And Miss Swan, I would like to talk to you outside for a moment." She spun on her heel and walked back out.

I followed her nervously.

Out in the cool corridor, Madame Esme sighed wearily. For the first time, I noticed the bags under her eyes.

"Miss Swan I understand how it must be hard for you to deal with little girls who are two years younger than you, however, you must have patience with them. God knows I do not need this after the past couple of days," she said, putting two manicured fingers to her forehead.

I suddenly felt guilty, remembering where she must have been. "Ma'am...how is Angela?" I asked.

She gave me a tired smile, "Miss Weber is recovering well. They expect only three days more in the hospital at most."

"Will she be coming back?" I already knew the answer, but I had to get the grisly confirmation.

Madame Esme was already shaking her head, "We don't quite know how she well she will heal in the long-term, but certainly not this term."

I nodded slowly. My poor friend. I had been so consumed in my own drama for the past two days that I hadn't inquired about her.

"She is allowed to have visitors on Saturday. She's asked for you, would you like to go?"

"Of course," I said at once.

"Good...oh, and one last thing – Doctor Hill informed me of your concussion."

I nodded, swallowing. I didn't want to have to lie...

"I understand why you did not tell anyone sooner – Miss Weber's injury was more severe, but I must stress the importance of reporting injuries. I certainly don't want to have another student in hospital because she went to sleep and could not wake up again. Have you been taking your pills?"

"Yes Ma'am." Well, I would take them in a minute...

"Bonne fille, now go and get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Ma'am," I curtsied – it looked a little weird in blue and white polka dot PJ pants – and went back inside. Everyone else was obediently 'asleep', and I got into bed quietly.

Madame Esme was right – I did have to have patience with my classmates. But that didn't mean I couldn't prove my worth on Sunday. To my class, to Tanya...but to Edward?

Now I understood – it wasn't to prove him wrong about me. If what I guessed from my talk with Alice was correct, then I would not be proving anything to him. I would just be reminding him. I fell asleep to the memory of strong hands on my waist, a warm, tall body close to mine...and green eyes...staring into mine as I stared into them with no pretence, no nervousness...just discovery.

Alright, for those of you who are managing to escape on holiday for Christmas, I wish you the best for it and for New Years!

I will, of course, keep updating, so if you're stuck in your house like me then worry not!

Please Review and Happy Christmas!