Ending the year right.

I had to work all day and then spent time with family to make sure that I ended the year on the right note. So there's no time for anything poetic or amazing from me right now and I am too tired to be profound. But I wanted to say that 2009 was a very good year for us and I liked it. It was low on money but high on good family time and happy kids. No one could ask for more.

Happy New Year and may next year be even better!

Winter Break is a week too long.

Ah, winter break from school. A time when a parent's fancy turns to thoughts of "What the hell is wrong with the schools that they can't be open the week after Christmas!" This is always a tough week for every parent. The kids just had a super exciting week and, despite what the school district seems to think, none of us are out traveling - we are home and the kids are bored with the new toys and amped from leftover Christmas candy. Chaos reigns as the tree still fills too much of the living room and the dog is beginning to chew the ornaments. Cats have decided that said tree is their home and scratching post and attack any who disturb their sheltered slumber. Parents stare bleary eyed at all of it and sip more Winter Blend coffee as the youngest dances so fast to the new keyboard that they begin to blur around the edges.

Well, sounds like a good time for me to either bury my head in my laptop and write with headphones on or go to work. Either one will do. As long as the house is still standing on Monday I will consider this week a success and begin the long clean up process. Until then - God help us all.

Happy rest of Winter Break!

The best Christmas gift for a writer - time to write!

Hubby gave me about 5 hours of writing time today! I'm out writing, eating snacks, drinking coffee and then writing some more. What a good day!

Also, I'm discovering that not every server is a gracious server when you take up a table for 2 hours because you're writing while you eat. It's not like there aren't any empty tables, but some people just want the transaction to end. Come in, eat, leave. Yes, ma'am.

For anyone that writes, I got some great advice from TribalWriter.com. There are some real gems in there! The one that I took away today and used successfully was the concept of "morning pages". The idea is that when you first sit down in the morning, or whenever, write out three pages of whatever is on your mind. Just let it flow and let it go. I wrote about the kids, the hubby, my writing fears and errands that are waiting for me. One page later I was ready to work on my story because me mental palate was all cleansed. Nice!

Well, I'm going to leave this place of nervous waitresses and go back down the street to the library and write some more. I have two more hours - joy!

Holiday greetings to you and yours!

Make Christmas Comments at BlingPixie.com

New book contest for Happy Snak

Marjorie M Liu gave her blog readers a heads up about a new book coming out next year called Happy Snak by Nicole Kimberling. It look hilarious, sexy and fun - three of my favorite words. If you are interested there is a contest going on at Literary Escapism for a free copy. Good luck!

Here is the description...

A little uncivil disobedience is good for the soul…

Gaia Jones is on A-Ki space station for one reason, and it’s not to ogle the hermaphroditic aliens. She’s out to make a name for herself and her line of intoxicating human snacks. Not easy in A-Ki’s tightly controlled society. Her task gets even more delicate when she rushes to the aid of a dying alien—and finds herself the unwilling guardian of a shunned alien ghost named Kenjan. And the new owner of his slave.

The danger mounts when Kenjan’s grieving lover, the powerful leader of the Kishocha, offers her a dream and a nightmare rolled into one: a new store all her own with a strange double purpose—half snack bar, half shrine. The catch? She must spend the rest of her life there, tending Kenjan the Heretic’s ghost. Or the entire station will be destroyed.

There’s only one way to gain both her freedom and justice for Kenjan—teach both the powerful government elite and the Kishocha theocracy a lesson in uncivil disobedience…

Intentions

Okay, I have sat down and written the first sentence of this post three times this morning so apparently I am busy. Well, I might have lots to do but I am putting it all off to write for awhile today. So far I have bombed on my goals. (No way!) I have blogged but not gotten any writing done because life gets in the way. Well, life and recovering from life. I take time for down time and refuse to apologize - it keeps me going.

So what I have been thinking about this morning, besides all of the stuff that I should be doing, is Lynn Viehl's blog post from yesterday. She says that when she is writing that she considers marketability and is not ashamed to admit it. Awesome, I'm not the only one!

When I talk about writing and whether or not a book will sell everyone, including my Hubby who makes a living drawing pictures, will tell me that I should never write a story with an eye on money. It kills creativity (true) and makes for a poor story (not necessarily). The thing that I never seem to be able to make anyone understand is that if writing is to be your career than you do indeed need to look at what you are writing with at least a small amount of interest in whether or not it is marketable. Am I trying to kill the soul of my story? Nope. Do I need the money and want others to pay me to read what I wrote. Yes!

It's a fine line, to be sure. But any writer who wants to be successful needs to at least consider for a moment if the story that they are writing is worth the time. If you are writing just for the joy of it then good for you, but writing with the goal of making a living requires intention.

And I intend to make a living doing something that I love.

Cancer free is the way to be.

Just found out today that my blood work and scans came back as 100% cancer free. Before now, when the scans were clean but the blood work was questionable, I still called myself cancer free but knew that there was an unseen asterisk next to it. Now, there is no asterisk and I can claim a clean bill of health with clear conscience.

I feel good but a little numb, like when I found out that I was pregnant all those years ago. It's great news and I did a happy dance at first but now I feel like I am absorbing and healing emotionally.

But in a good way. And man, it's good to have something good.

The benefits of structure.

I've been thinking a lot about structure lately. Being one of those people who are not dominant on either side of my brain I both crave the beauty of balance and symmetry and cannot follow a detailed plan for my time to save my life. Visual structure, yes. Lifestyle structure, no. I have no concept of time and am incapable of fooling myself onto believing that following a schedule is important.

Well, unless it is following my autistic son's schedule, then life depends on it! But even that is only important because of the effect that ignoring the schedule has on him and therefore the rest of us. No one cares if I waste hours of my day and I can't seem to care either, even if I have a detailed schedule sitting next to me on my desk. As a matter of fact, I can waste lots of time making schedules and plans. I feel very mature and proud as I gaze upon my list of intentions but ultimately feel irritated as soon as it begins to try to dictate my time.

I like to follow my muse as much as possible when the kids aren't around. So much of my day is spent taking care of them and seeing to their needs and the needs of the house and such that when they are not home I want to do what I want to do. It seems like the structure that I tried, with good intention, to put into my day is demanding that I give up more of my time instead of helping me to manage what I have.

I think that this is the artist in me, the part of me that wants to follow the flow of the universe around me and see what I find. It's easy and fun, relaxing and refreshing. As a matter of fact, I think that spending some of my time this way is very healthy for the mind, body and soul and highly recommend it.

But I have noticed that no steadily published author does what they do without structure. As a matter of fact, they all say that until you find a structure for your day, the way that you pursue your career as a writer and for the writing itself that you will never succeed.

Damn, but I think that they are right.

Case in point, I have a tendency to sit and write whatever is in my head. Most of the time I sit down and wonder what I want to write about at that moment. I have paragraphs and pages from all kinds of stuff on my laptop. Now that's okay, but how many of those have I finished? One. How many times have I approached an editor? Once. An agent? Once. This is not how a career is started. I am just way too scattered.

Luckily I consider two wonderful authors to be mentors to me. They are both extremely generous and have talked with or emailed me and I kind of hang on every word that they say about writing. The coolest thing about this is that they seem to represent the two sides of my brain. The first is Marjorie M. Liu, she is the creative side. She comes up with a situation or a great first sentence and then follows the story from there. Organic, she calls it. This is wonderful because she writes with the same process that I do and is so good at what she does. But she is able to sit and write in the story that she is working on. There is method to the madness in the fact that she does what she needs to do and finishes her stories. This is what I learn from her - to allow myself to write the way that I do but to temper that with just enough structure to be dependable as a writer.

The other author is Lynn Viehl. She is so structured that it's almost a military operation, which is fitting since she used to be in the military. Lynn likes to make a notebook about her characters, their world, pictures and plot. As a matter of fact she has even done posts about how to log what you do in a day, figure out how much time you spend on what and then make a schedule for the day, week, month and year to maximize your writing without taking too much away from the rest of your life. I confess, I didn't even read those posts too closely since being that detailed about that much structure made me bored. That is probably a large part of my issue with structure, I don't like to be bored. Structure is sooo boring! But Lynn is a prime example of why structure can work, she has a full and seemingly happy family as well as work life - a goal that we all strive for.

So I've been thinking about what structure can do for me if I find a way to make it workable. A way to combine Marjorie and Lynn's philosophies, as it were. For me, it seems to boil down to daily and monthly goals. One or two of each only - let's not go crazy! I want to blog daily and write for 2 hours on non-work days. There, daily goals that are accomplishable. Monthly goals will be set monthly depending on my status and involve the business side. Since there are only two weeks left in the month and it's the holidays, I've set my goal for the end of January. Right now it is to finish revising my book and send it to the Knight Agency. That means I need to do a whole new synopsis and query, so the monthly goal does have some writing to it but will involve submissions and followups.

There! I feel more organized and structured already. Success is mine. For today.

The confidence to be confident.

I'm a friendly introvert. It's equally common for me to be described as open, friendly, funny and a person that's easy to talk to as it is arrogant, standoffish and weird. Actually, even people who think that I'm friendly usually eventually get to weird, I just can't seem to escape that one. Not that I'd want to. I think that weird is usually a short hand way of saying that someone is unafraid of being who they are. If I like comic books and zombies (even though most zombie movies are too scary for me and I only read spoilers about them) but still claim that my favorite movie is Pride and Prejudice with Kiera Knightly, then so be it. If I can top most people with my knowledge of vitamins, exercise and healthy eating then say that I am 5 pounds away from obese because I just love pizza and beer too much, then what of it? I just jumped from one socially acceptable box to another instead of staying where I was. My response to people who don't like that kind of thing and lose interest in talking to me after tidbits like that is simply "Neener neener".

There is another thing that drives some of people crazy about me - I'm outwardly confident. Well, most of the time. I'm just like anyone else and have good days and bad day, times when I will grin and declare that I rock and times when I cry and insist that I am the worst wife, mom, friend, woman, human, carbon based life form in the world. But I usually save the insecurity for at home with just the hubby around and cling to my confidence when I'm out in the world. And why not? I am an intelligent, beautiful woman who has a great marriage and two wonderful kids that are thriving. I have every reason to walk with my head held high and so do most women. But I have noticed that very few do.

And those who don't are sometimes offended by me. At my last job two fellow employees went to the manager and asked that I be fired because I was an "arrogant bitch". It was two weeks in on a job that I had done before. I had kept my mouth shut to learn their procedure but jumped in to help on day one because I knew the job and saw no reason to sit by and watch. They took exception to the fact that I considered myself able to do the job that I had several years experience in. I had the audacity to think of myself as an equal when I had more experience than all but one of the women in my department. Did I think of myself as better? No. Did I question how they did things? Not unless I didn't understand. Was I arrogant? Looking back with total honesty...no. I was doing the job as I knew it and I had confidence in my abilities. Horrifying, I know but I'm weird that way.

Understand this, I'm not just concerned about how any of this affects me. I've got my standard "Neener neener" response and don't sweat the petty stuff. Or pet the sweaty stuff. But I worry for young girls and the fact that for many, the only examples that they see of 'confident' women are half dressed surgically enhanced sex toys on legs that dominate TV and movies. In real life those women are the opposite of confident since they starve themselves to be thin and get surgery to stay young. That's not self love or acceptance, that's eternally seeking the approval of people who don't even know you.

Here's a good example of what I mean about the examples that most girls get at home. Last night I went to a school function for the holidays at my daughter's school and we wore a matching set of deer antler headbands with little jingle bells and fluffy tufts in the front. It's silly and fun, but we were making gingerbread houses out of empty milk cartons and graham crackers so it seemed like a great idea. And it was - lots of kids pointed and laughed, my daughter hammed it up by shaking her head and it was an instant visual signal that the little girl sitting next to me was my daughter even though her warm brown skin is so different than my ghostly paleness. Good times!

At one point in the evening one of my daughter's friends came to our table and they hugged and squealed and acted like 5 year olds. After a little while the girl's mom came up and we started to chat. She was a perfectly normal woman wearing a holiday sweater and looking like the mother of two energetic girls. Nodding toward the area over my head she said that the antlers were cute and that she wished she could wear something like that. Good news! I told her, they are a buck for the pair at Dollar Tree. But she sadly shook her head and said that she had been called a cow in high school and could never wear anything with horns or antlers. Feeling a little desperate I told her that they also had snowmen headbands but she only shook her head again and informed me that only beautiful people like me could do things like that and walked off with her two girls who had heard the whole thing.

Let me tell you that I was as sad for her girls as I was for that mom.

I was raised with the example that it was my duty as a female to hate everything about myself. That accepting a compliment gracefully was "having a big head" and that your only hope in life was finding a guy who could look past your many feminine flaws and try my hardest to keep him. In middle and high school I wore clothes so big that I was asked more than once if I was hiding a pregnancy. I was told at times by students and even some family members that I was not very pretty and not very slim, which wasn't really a put down since it was always preceded by stating what a shame it was. Usually a thing about you that's a shame is not really your fault, it's just a shame that you have to bear that particular cross. At least that's how my young mind perceived it. Thank God.

The biggest factor in all of that was really seeing the women in my family and their example. They hated themselves and judging everyone around them, including me at times, was the best way to make them feel a little better. If you feel fat then make sure to point out people fatter than you. Or point out someone not as large as you and declare that you will never be as fat as that and watch the awkwardness levels soar! Not pretty enough, just check out the clown make up on that lady at the grocery store. Now describe it in greater and more elaborate detail to everyone you see for a few days. Because for those few days and those few conversations you are better than someone else in your own eyes and it's easy to fool yourself into thinking that the person hearing the story feels that same way.

What nonsense.

It took many years and a lot of looking at causes, fears, preconceived notions and ugly things inside of myself to realize that I am a human being just like everyone else and as such I have equal standing with others. This is the secret that confident people know. I have seen and known more than one person that was truly unattractive on any and all physical beauty scales. But when that person walked into a room and started talking they were seen and heard in a totally different way than even a physically beautiful person with no self esteem. (And there are a ton of those.) As a matter of fact, the longer I knew these people the more I realized that that I saw them as beautiful and would be hard pressed to point out physical imperfections. Confidence is amazingly beautiful, sexy and easy to follow when that person is a leader. It's a gift that is cultivated by seeing the world less as a group of people judging you and more as fellow inhabitants on a wonderfully varied and amazing planet.

This is the gift that a confident parent can give to their child. And one that is easily denied when you forget that no one who matters cares about how you look, they care about who you are.

10 Things that kept me from the blog this time...

1. The fact that I was taking a pouting break after my lousy critique. BTW, it turned out that there were two judges for that contest and the second one loved my story! Huzzah!

2. Got a little overwhelmed taking care of house and family stuff while Hubby's leg was healing. He's doing much better now and doesn't even need crutches anymore, just the plastic boot. : )

3. Didn't know what to write and don't know how to post one of those sticky note things that look so cool on other blogs. You know, the kind that is usually signed by Alfred the butler - I love those.

4. Alien abduction. It was only for a week, but what a week it was...

5. I'm just kidding!

6. It was for a week and a half.

7. I started eating the low iodine diet that was part of the preparation for my six month scan to make sure that my thyroid cancer stays good and gone. It's an amazingly restrictive diet and literally seems to take over most of my life for a couple of weeks.

8. Dealing with the emotions that come up every time this cancer stuff comes around again. My poor husband has to listen to the same 'deep' discussions every six months and he does it very well. Then again, this was the first time that he told me, "I don't want to talk about anything deep or serious. Let's just watch a movie." I must admit that I was a little peeved because cancer should give a person a free pass to get melancholy all they want any time they want. But we have been doing this for two years and I was preparing to go over familiar ground anyway, so I conceded that his part of my cancer stuff gives him certain rights as well. One of them being that he does not have to participate in every wallowing session I have.

9. Thanksgiving freakout. I don't like the holidays. They are stressful and upsetting and horribly mandatory. Someday I hope to form our own traditions that allow our kids to come and see us with genuine smiles and excitement. But until then we have to deal with the holidays as usual and that means freakouts.

10. Laziness. Genuine distilled 100% pure laziness. I didn't wanna and I was busy so I didn't! (How's that for illness induced self importance?)

So, does anyone else have anything that they should have been doing the last few weeks that ended up being avoided? What's your excuse?

High school English, all over again.

Well, I got my first full fledged critical spanking.  I mean, no holds barred "You sucked balls" type stuff.  It was as crushing as one would think.  I never want to write again.  I suck.  I don't have a viable job and need to find something else to do for money and fulfillment.  Maybe I should get a license for hair or nails since I already work in a salon and spa.  Maybe I should get a student loan and go back to college for a degree in a field that will make me money.  Maybe I'm failing.  Well, definitely I'm failing.  I usually do.

But there was one sentence that caught my eye near the end of the critique.  Half of a sentence actually.  She said that I wrote an interesting story if only I would tell it well and not break every fiction writing rule in the book.

Huh.  

I can't tell you how much I don't want to write anymore.  It's difficult and time consuming and I find it to be extremely frustrating.  The other day I described it to Hubby as "Trying to grab a cloud and make a string out of it."  I don't always like doing it and often hate what I wrote anyway.

But what if I can tell a good story if I learn some discipline.  This critique reminds me of my high school English teacher.  I had previously written stuff that wowed every teacher.  All A's and sometimes teachers encouraging me to get it published.  I had some serious confidence in my writing skills because I liked what I wrote and had been told that it was good.  Then I started in this woman's class.  I forget her name but will always remember her very clearly because we hated each other.  My first year in her class she ripped my papers apart and always gave me Cs.  She said that I had good ideas but was sloppy, unorganized and had terrible grammar.  Poor structure, sentence fragments, run on sentences, terrible punctuation - you name it.  And this woman showed me no mercy.  God, I hated her!  

So why, you might ask, did I take her class a second time when I had the option of another teacher?  Because I knew she was right.  

By the end of that first year I got an A in that class.  Barely and after much extra credit work.  The second year I also got an A but with a better percentage.  We argued and fussed at each other and she often told me that she expected college level work and would take nothing less.  I thought that she hated me as much as I did her but I liked the challenge and could see that she made my work better.  (By the way, college English was a breeze thanks to her.) 

 At the last conference of the year my dad told her about my plans to be a nurse, which I did not follow up on.  According to my dad she got pretty upset, like angry upset, and said that she thought that I was supposed to be a writer.  It was the highest praise that I ever got from her and probably the most important to me of any that I ever received.  

So maybe this critique was her spirit yelling at me again.  Yelling that 15 years away from her has made me lazy and sloppy again and that if I want to be a writer I need to treat the writing with respect.  Respect for myself as a writer, for the reader and for the words that I use to tell my story.  

It's a great teacher that continues to teach 15 years after their last class with you.  But I'm still listening and am grateful for the lesson.

Writing sample: Coffee Run

I have been able to get a small amount of writing done.  I've been trying to focus on telling a fun story that I would like to read and thinking less about how others will receive it.  Making my inner critic shut up, as it were.  : )

So here is a little scene that I wrote the other day.  It's a first draft and not perfect, but I think that it shows the progress that I'm making in letting me and my voice shine through without a filter.  

Seraphina stalked down the sidewalk, her 4 inch silver stilettos issueing sharp cracks that echoed off the buildings with each step.  Honestly, not the shoes she would have chosen if she had known what tonight was going to turn into.  Short black leather skirt and tight black shirt boucing in time to her steps, the silver knives strapped to her upper right thigh flashed just a bit with ever other step.  Guns dangled in her hands by her sides, one in each.  Fingers on the triggers, eyes on alert.  

As she scanned the alleyways, windows and doors for signs of her enemy her vision winked in and out from normal to infrared.  She could see the heat signatures of the rats in and near garbage cans, the yellow mass of a cat ran across the street with a yowl as she clicked by.  People on the street were walking rainbows of color, all with that same luscious yellow inside.  In the times when her vision was normal she saw that few noticed her guns and those that did chose to quickly look away.  She was downtown at 4am, if someone yelled about a gun who would come?  The cops were asleep in their patrol cars or filling up on pre-breakfast donuts right about now.

Shaking her head to get normal vision back she cursed the fickle fall weather.  It was too cold, her breath puffing in the air in front of her.  She was dressed for tonight's job, not for being outside and her body was using energy to warm her.  Dammit, she knew to plan better before going out.  But when she had left the apartment earlier she had been distracted and dressed for the job at hand, not for complications.  If there was one thing that Sera knew, it's that life is absolutely full of complications.

She needed heat.

Seeing a Phoenix Coffee ahead of her she picked up her pace.  The closer she got the more her vision flickered until it became a steady picture of colors.  Walking rainbows, like multilayered candy.  Each layer a different flavor and she was getting a sweet tooth bad.

Time running short she ran the last half block and jerked open the door.  Before her stood a line of people waiting patiently for their turn to order.  Depth perception shot she couldn’t see details, only knew that the third person in line was the warmest and that if she didn’t act fast then that person would die first.

She walked around the line and straight to the person taking orders.  People from behind her began to mutter but she ignored them and put in her order in the clearest voice she could muster.

“Large coffee, black, now.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you need to wait...”  Amazing how a gun to the forehead can change a person’s mind.

“Coffee, now.”

A heartbeat later a shaking coffee cup came into her peripheal vision as the other server held out the steaming cup.  Sera plunked her other gun on the counter and used that free hand to gulp it down.  Coffee trickled down the corners of her mouth and wet the front of her shirt.  She handed back the empty cup.  “More.”

The woman took the cup and began to fill it.  Someone farther back in line either didn’t see the guns or didn’t care.  “Hey lady, get in line!  You gotta wait like the rest of us!”

Sera merely swung the arm still holding a gun to the back of the line and aimed it at the mans heart without even turning her head.  There were gasps but, blessedly,  no screams.  She just didn’t have time for screams right now.  A couple of people fell to the ground but most chose freezing in place as the best option.  

Accepting the next cup she gulped it down just slow enough to not spill again and gave it back.  Twice more she did this until she thought she would burst from all of the liquid she had poured in.  But it was worth it once warmth flooded her body and she could see with normal vision the beads of sweat on the servers forehead.

“Thanks, I needed that.  Can I please have one more but with 6 sugars and 3 creams?”  At the servers nod she looked back at the line.  Now she could see faces, clothing and emotions in eyes.  Most were scared, not ideal but couldn’t be helped.  A couple were right and truly pissed.  Well, that couldn’t be helped either.  The man at the end of the line was glaring at her with the most intensity and her gun was leveled on the middle of his sternum.  He must have been the complainer.  She had aimed about 8 inches below the sound of his voice and her guess had been true.  If she so much as sneezed this guy was dead and he knew it.

“Excuse me, miss.  Here’s the..the...um, coffee.”  The poor woman really was giving excellent service despite her fear.  Sera was impressed.

Reaching into her bra she pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter in front of her before hooking her second gun in the back of her skirt and grabbing the coffee.  “That’s for you.  Excellent job today...”  She checked the name tag.  “Missy!  Nicely done.  Thanks again.  And don’t feel like you need to share that tip with this guy that I talked to first.  If you you pee your pants and never even deliver the order then you lose your right to the tip, right?”

Missy gave a startled laugh and looked over at Mike.  Sure enough the front of his pants were wet and there was a thin line of snot running down his face.

With a smile and a wave, Sera turned and walked up to Mr. Grumpy at the end of the line.  He glared down at her, face red and eyes furious.  “Thank you for your patience,” she demured with wide eyes.  Then, with a grin that showed very sharp teeth she whispered.  “Patience is a virtue.  It would be wise of you to remember that.”

Lowering her gun she swiftly walked out of the cafe and down the street. 

Change of plan.

Ok, kids, here's the scoop.  Finances are running super lean over here at Casa de la Gott.  So instead of concentrating on NaNoWriMo, a large part of the cranium will be put to use overhauling the old Etsy shop and trying to bring in some greenbacks for the holidays.  

I hope to still get at least reach the half way point with the novel that I have started by the end of the month but most of my free time will be put into crafting and farting art.  Or arting farts.  Whatever sells.

Speaking of the novel, I got my first rejection!  Cool!  It was a really good experience because she brought to light something that I think I knew but didn't want to admit - I don't write freely.  When I write I worry about sounding professional, about offending the family, about whether or not my hip friends will think it's cool and if the Hubby will be miserable and rolling his eyes while he reads it.  I write scared and that is no way to work.

The question is how to get away from doing that.  It's a default setting and I have a difficult time turning it off.  But there are two writing blogs that I read daily and they have both recently talked about ignoring your internal critic during your first draft.  I think that I have been letting my internal editor run the show and that my work has been altered because of it.  The best parts of all of my work are when I write what I see without changing it for someone else's benefit.  

So there is my plan for now - I will craft until I drop and then write.  Plus work and take care of the house and kids.   And the broken legged Hubby.  I might even find time to sleep!

Uh oh, NaNoWriMo!

Okay, it's day four of NaNoWriMo and I have only sat down once to write.  It's actually okay though.  I got out 1,179 words in the 25 minutes that I had before my daughter's bus came and they are good ones.

I did it with my patented method of getting into the story big time and have found a mighty weapon to use to get there.  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...The Dr. Wicked's Write or Die thingee!  *Roar of a small but enthusiastic crowd*

All you do is go to the page, enter the number of words that you want to write and in what time.  Then the fun part is choosing your mode for consequences and grace period.  There is everything from gentle mode (why bother) to evil, kamikaze and electric shock.  I tried normal and strict, just to see how it worked.  Basically it gives you a space to start typing and then, based on your preferences, will change the background color when too much time has gone by without typing.  The color change without noise or pictures is ideal because it's a visual cue that's not really distracting.  It's fun and made me compete with myself which is ideal.  By the time the timer ran out I didn't really care anymore because I had moved on to the finish line being when BabyGirl's bus came.  

So if you're a writer and are having a day when you just can't seem to get going - try Dr. Wicked's Write or Die page.  It's fun, effective and just a little bit evil.  : )

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!...Crap!

National Novel Writing Month started yesterday and I totally forgot!  It's okay because I don't have to technically write every day, but if I want to finish the 50,000 word challenge by the end of the month then I need to get my butt in gear!  

Speaking of writing, I have been trying to get back into it and found that it is super tough to do when you are out of the habit.  I am such a "follow the story" kind of writer and that means that I write my best when I am lost in the story.  I can't plot because I have no idea what's going to happen and so I have no map at the beginning of the book usually.  Well, a basic map maybe - one that has a picture of Earth with an arrow or two that says, "Story starts here and might end up over there...or maybe not."  

So I have some great ideas and just need to find ways to be more disciplined in getting lost in the story.  There is such a difference, let me tell you.  The other day I was writing and I could see the whole thing in my head but what came out of my fingers was some sort of extremely sparse script for a play.  Try as I might the world would not get on the page and the characters were paper cutouts with word balloons.  When I'm lost in the moment my fingers fly and the world unfurls like a drop of dye in a glass of water.  It's beautiful and mesmerizing to me, I never want to stop.  

I know that I have said that I needed to develop this skill better before but I have had trouble finding the time for the last few months.  But I have a secret weapon that I have used since high school - I thrive on deadlines.  The adrenaline rush feeds me and I can't stop the flow.  In times of writing for myself I send half an hour on one page and practically grumble through the whole thing.  Add a deadline and it's a whole new ball game.  This is how I finished Elemental, I had a 9 day deadline till the conference and I just wrote my heart out during all waking hours.  Now I have another deadline, four weeks until I need to finish 50,000 words or else I will have failed.  

I really hate failing.  I'm an overachiever by nature.  (But a nice one and I only compete with myself - never ask my to join your sports team because I am the opposite of competitive on the field.)

Anyway, off I go to write and attempt to meet my deadline.  Oooo, I got shivers just typing that.  There will be updates on the blog and here is my NaNoWriMo link.  

Wish me luck!

Wow. I'm tired.

My son finished up with the flu enough to go to school on Wednesday, Hubby broke his leg on Thursday and the dog is throwing up blood clots since Sunday.  

Needless to say the blog is on a bit of a hiatus.  If I do any writing I'm hoping to work on my books.  That's right, I'm working on two because I need to do the one in case my Elemental gets picked up and the other won't leave me alone.

You kids play nice and I'll post more when things calm down around here.

Mini Post: A PSA about dealing with autism when it makes you, the observer, uncomfortable.

The more you know...

     

       *Matt Damon is leaning against a grey wall and looks up from a book that he is reading*

Next time, when you are in a doctor's office and there is a mother trying to settle down her 10 year old that is yelling and very upset because he is obviously special needs and sick - try not to stare.  That mother is doing her best to calm the child and your staring only makes her shoulders hunch and tension grip her every muscle.  Also, a deep and primal rage begins to well up in her at your rudeness and lack of compassion and that does not help her to maintain the calm talking voice that is necessary to change the situation.

Remember that everyone with a special needs child is always deeply sorry when your day has been interrupted by autism or whatever else the child may deal with.  We hope that the rest of your day is filled with language capable children, no sensory disturbances and conversations with your offspring.  Lord knows that theirs won't.

                 *Matt closes the book and walks off.  Just as he is about to leave the shot he quietly                        but clearly says, "Buncha Assholes."*

Da na na na naaaaa!

The more you know...  

Getting back on track.

There has been so much business and illness in this house in the last month!  Traveling, teaching, working, a spouse with a terrible chest cold, being pretty sick myself and then a kid with the flu.  I feel a little like an entire month of my life has been stolen from me.  

But it will all work out in the end, always does.  I have a lot of catching up to do and hope to continue getting well so that I can tackle it faster than my current pace of slogging along with a box of Kleenex and bag of Halls.  

I have writing to do (As always, that is never really 'caught up'), housework to catch up on, church stuff that's been left undone, friends to call, plans to make and have just compiled a short list of books to read.  As crazy as it sounds, I'm a little sick of fiction for just a bit.  It happens every once in a while.  To write a fiction story there must be drama and I do eventually get sick of the drama, the bad decisions, the traumatic back stories and the angst.  Unfortunately there aren't a million David Sedaris, Sarah Vowell and Sloane Crosley books out there so I must look elsewhere.  

Once, in a time of fiction fatigue just like now, I went to the store and stumbled on a book that I loved called Another Day in the Frontal Lobe: A Brain Surgeon Exposes Life on the Inside by Katrina Firlik.   It was exactly what I needed at the time and I read all of the gory details with a smile on my face.  The list that I have compiled right now is not medically themed, but social justice.  I don't know if I'll be able to read through the list but I'll have it for whenever I want to go back to it.  Just like I have another medical book about cadavers that I have kept in the back of my head for awhile in case I do decide to get medical.

Here is my little list, let me know what you think.  Or better yet, let me know what is on your non-fiction reading list!

1. Everyday Justice by Julie Clawson

2. We the Purple: Faith, Politics and the Independent Voter by Marcia Ford

3. Fair Trade: A Beginner's Guide by Jaqueline Decarlo

Book Review: Shadowlight by Lynn Viehl

Finally, I had the time to read the wonderful new book Shadowlight by Lynn Viehl.  Recently Ms. Viehl was cool enough to let the followers of her blog volunteer to be sent an eARC in exchange for a review.  An ARC is an Advanced Reader Copy, the pre-release book that is sent out to people in the business for reviews and such.  The e part just means that it was a file that she sent me instead of a hardcopy - saving trees one author at a time!  I thought that her idea was a bit odd at first, those of us who would normally buy the book now have an electronic copy and I am too cheap to buy what I already have.  The actual truth is that we who received an eARC are now singing the book's praises before it is released in stores.  So I have changes my mind and now think that Ms.Viehl is some kind of crazy genius who stays away from conferences because her brilliance is too much for the public to handle in person.  

Another thing that made it so cool was that I felt like one of the big kids.  Sure she sent a copy to anyone who asked - but as a newbie writer trying to get anyone in publishing to notice me, having an established author let me have an ARC was a big deal.  Plus she gave me a deadline for the review.  I had a deadline that someone else set and that person was a big time author - be still my palpating heart!

The book itself took me a little while to read because I was busy and not hooked by the opening chapter.  I could tell that it was the nice and gentle opening before tragedy struck but I just didn't like Jessa, the female lead character, from page one.  Unfortunetely that dislike carried through the whole book.  I think that some of it was my personality, I don't like nice string o' pearl wearing women who have lived lovely lives and wear tailored suits.  There is nothing wrong with them but I just don't jive with them and so when a character in a book is like that it is almost a given that I won't like them.  Another thing about her was her intense distrust of people who shared psi-abilities with her and her inability to accept the possibility that there was a race, the Darkyn, that had all of the same abilities but had to stay out for the sun and drink blood.  She had never been actually pursued for her talents and the leap from psi-ablilites to psi-abilities and drinks blood is not so big in my mind.  So her resistance just struck me as annoying stubbornness after awhile.

Having said that, I did enjoy the story and most of the other characters in this book very much.  The Takyn series seems to be a little more high on adventure than your average Darkyn book and I like that.  Once the action started it just kept on coming.  I loved the psychotic Lawson as a crazy guy obsessed with Jessa and GenHance as the evil corporation that has no qualms about playing god.  The chase scenes got my heart pumping and I felt a real sense of dread as Jessa was stalked.  That is why this book is good writing and Ms Viehl deserves her bestseller status.  If I never fully warm up to a character but am still able to place myself next to her as she runs from a psycho and feel my heart pound in a shared fear then that author has mad skills with a keyboard.

A word about a character that I did fully warm up to - Rowan.  Man, I love Rowan.  Here is a woman who has struggled and has more than one tragedy in her life.  She has been molded and bent but never broken by a hard past.  At the end of the book there is a sneak peek at the next Takyn book which is Rowan's and is called  Dreamveil.  It looks so awesome that I think I whimpered when the excerpt ended.  I cannot wait until 2010!

So I definitely recommend this book to anyone into paranormal romance.  It's an exciting first book for a series that explains what it needs to but doesn't skimp on the action.  I have found that some first books in a series are so busy world building that they forget to show me why I should care.  This book made me care even if I wasn't initially inclined to.  The release date is October 6, so keep an eye out for it!

In defense of groceries.

This morning I was doing the dishes and thinking about how I needed to clean out the fridge due to a hotdog juice spill when I remembered a scene from the movie G Force.  Yes, movies about spy guinea pigs and their self image issues stick with me.  Anyway, in the movie there is a huge company that is about to launch a new feature on their appliances that will basically put your whole kitchen online.  Specifically I remember the example of your fridge knowing that you're low on milk and eggs, sending an order to the market and having the items delivered without you even being involved.  People onscreen cheered and I imagined that someone in the theatre who had brought their kids was probably angrily texting others in their department at Frigidaire wanting to know who spilled the beans on their Top Secret project.  

So there I was, trying to get the kids on their way to school, finishing dishes and contemplating a society that has no desire to experience anything that they don't have to.  (I'm a great multitasker.)  See, lately my life has gotten busy.  I keep thinking that the kids have been in school for just a couple of weeks and the truth is that it has been a month and that this level of busy is the new norm.  I'm not a fan of busy.  My kids are not in sports yet but Hubby and I have already decided that our super athletic daughter will not be allowed more than one sport plus one club at a time.  Family dinner will be mandatory unless there is a good reason.  Why?  Because super busy all the time is not a life, it's a schedule.  I don't want to live my life trapped in a demanding schedule that makes life miserable and hope to raise children that don't either.  

I want to live a life where I can always find time to go to do the grocery shopping.  When I go to the grocery store I do it in a timely manner but don't run.  Well, occasionally I run, but the norm is a reasonably paced meander.  I like looking at the produce section and all of the colors.  If I'm buying paper towels I look for the coolest pattern and tissues need to be in boxes that coordinate with the room or are fun to look at.  These little touches make life more fun and brings a bit of happy to household jobs.  I notice when my paper towel has Peanuts characters on it and it makes doing windows a little less boring.  

My favorite is finding new products in a store and trying any that look cool.  Weird salsas, exotic fruits and different kinds of chips are just waiting to be found.  If I just run in and shop the list then I miss the experience of being surrounded by variety and choice.  Why would I want technology to take that away?  Don't get me wrong, I love technology in many ways.  But I draw that line at having it take away the experience of everyday life.  I hope to never sacrifice the mundane in exchange for a chance to be more busy.    

I like my non-sentient refrigerator and hope to keep it that way.

The 5 page contest.

Awhile ago I wrote a story for a contest that challenged you to a full story in 5 pages.  I wrote this one and then never sent it in.   Silly me, but I still have issues with people reading my work.  Eventually I'll get over it, but for now it's still nerve wracking.  

Since I didn't send it in and it's just collecting virtual dust in a file on my laptop, I thought I'd post it here.  Enjoy!

Fun with a Big Black Dog.

Matt exited the elevator into the damp cool of the parking deck.  Irritated that he had been forced to work late again, he stalked toward his lonely car.  Heaving a sigh, he tried to will himself into a better mood.  His wife, Julia, told him that she had news for him tonight.  After eleven months of trying he hoped that she would tell him that she was pregnant.  

Lost in his thoughts and keeping his eyes on the ground to see the parking space numbers, he was startled when a pair of large black dog feet came into view.   An animal lover by nature, he lifted his head with a smile and quickly froze.  Whatever was in front of him was definately not an innocent dog.  Black with grey tips on the fur of the back and head, it was beautiful.  The yellow eyes, though.  Those eyes were not the eyes of any dog they he had ever seen, they reguarded him with too much intent.  

Still frozen, Matt thought about what he should do next.  Running seemed like a bad idea, the creature looked like it would take him down in three steps easy.  Backing away slowly seemed like a decent idea, but he didn’t want to draw it’s attention more than he already had.  He was going to go with staying still and hoping it got bored.  

The creature and the man reguarded eachother for a long time.  Matt found that the longer he looked at it, the more he was struck by the beauty of it.  The fur looked soft and well groomed, the eyes were definately intelligent but lacked the coldness he had first imagined.  He was surprised to find that his once frozen stance of holding his key out to open the car had relaxed.  Instead, he was  standing with his hand in his pocket and his briefcase tucked under his arm.  Maybe the creature was actually one of those wolf hybrids that he had read about.  It certainly was built like a wolf, just a big one.  There was something about the casual unthreatened way that it sat that made Matt certain that it was comfortable around humans.  So, probably not wild then.

Abruptly the wolf...dog...whatever, yawned and stood to come padding over to him.  Giving his hand a sniff, it brushed against his leg and then turned and sat next to him.  Leaning on his leg, it stared at the car and then up at him.  If Matt didn’t know better he would say that it wanted a ride.

Slowly, trying to think nonthreatening thoughts, he reached down and gently pet the large head.  He snatched his hand back as the head snapped up to glare at him.  For a second, the eyes narrowed, looking oddly insulted.  Then the mouth opened in a huge toothy grin and the tongue rolled out to the side in a classic happy dog look.  Confused, Matt slowly reached down again and this time was rewarded with a small lick.  Scratching behind the ears got him a deep contented groan and a rubbing of the neck confirmed his suspicion that there was no collar.  

The big lug was lost, maybe a runaway.  It needed a place to stay, the parking garage was no place for it.  It was too late to call Animal Control, not that he would.  They would take one look at this guy and put him down for being a wolf.  There was no one else in the garage.  He yelled out just in case and the dog growled, the rumble vibrating and carrying almost more than his yell.

The only good solution seemed to be taking it home and putting up flyers and checking the pound to see if anyone had called for it.  He wasn’t sure if he was comfortable about the idea of being in a car with it though, it seemed a little grumpy.  What if it didn’t want to get in the car or ate the seats?  Well, it could eat the seats for all he cared, the car was a beater anyway.  Working non-profit did not bring in the big bucks.

Seeing no other way to find out, he unlocked the car and opened the door.  Holding it open and moving to the side, he turned to invite the dog in.  Cool, dark fur brushed by him as it settled into the passenger seat and stared at him expectantly.  

“Well then, I guess someone likes going for rides”, he muttered.  Turning to the dog he smiled and kept his hands on the steering wheel.  “I can’t reach to your door to roll the window down and the air conditioning has never worked in this.  Sorry.  Please don’t get cranky if you get hot.  Thanks.”

Matt started the car, backed out of his spot and began driving the descending ramps to exit.  By the time he reached the street the dog’s head and right paw were laying heavily in his lap.  He dropped his hand with a small smile and ran his fingers through thick fur as he drove.  

When Matt got home he was relieved to see that Julia’s car was in the driveway.  She didn’t like most animals, but large dogs always settled down around her.  His brother Jake’s cranky German Shepherd always laid quietly by her feet the entire time they visited.  It was amazing what she could do and he hoped that her presence would make the night easier for everyone.

“Well boy, we’re home.”  

The dog sat up and growled at him again.  

“What?”

Standing up to shake out it’s fur, the dog took up the entire interior of his small car.  His head forced back against the head rest at the 200 pounds of fur pushing on him, Matt hoped that this was not going to turn into a teeth and band aid moment.  

Ducking his head a little as the dog pushed it’s shoulder harder into his head, Matt saw that certain parts were missing if this was a male.  This ginormous dog that was attempting to smother him was a girl.

“Good girl!  Sit, Girl!  Sit down, Girl!”

Immediately the dog sat.

“Are you serious?  You were insulted because I called you a boy?  You have got to be the smartest dog that I have ever met.  Or the weirdest.”  

The dog opened it’s mouth and began panting happily.

With a laugh, Matt opened the door and got out.  The dog walked right by him and began walking straight up to the door.  He called after it, “Boy dogs can be pretty too, you know!  There’s not need to be so defensive!”

As he walked up to the door Matt hoped that this little interupption in the evening didn’t upset Julia.  He knew that she had seemed tense about tonight and he didn't want to make it worse.  If they were pregnant she had to know that he would be happy.  Their relationship was great, there shouldn’t be any upsetting announcements reguarding that.  Whatever it was, they would get through it together.  They always did.

He opened the door and walked in with the dog’s body pushing his leg.  “Hi, Baby!  Don’t be alarmed, I brought home a big black dog!”  He turned to the dog and smiled.  “Don’t worry, she’ll love you.  I just want to avoid screaming since there isn’t usually a small mountain of black fur in the foyer.”

Tilting it’s head the dog reguarded him solemnly.  

Matt realized that he hadn’t heard any response from his wife and called out again.  Still nothing.   He didn’t want to leave the dog in the foyer in case she hadn’t heard him and panicked if she found it.  

Well, the dog had been incredibly smart so far.  “Come one, let’s go find her.  Heel.”

Another growl.  Great, a large touchy dog that he didn’t know in his house with his possibly pregnant wife.  Matt reflected on the fact that he would more than likely be a good candidate for this year’s Darwin Award.

Giving up, he started to walk toward the kitchen in the back.  The dog blocked his way and stared up at him with those yellow eyes.  Serious, so serious.

Matt kept trying to walk around and the dog kept cutting him off until a tangle of fur and legs landed on the floor.  Laying flat and feeling bruised, he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.  All day he had thought of Julia and what tonight would be like.  Then he worked late and met this damn dog and now he didn’t even know if she was home.  Closing his eyes, he softly beat his head on the floor under him.

A wet nose snuffled his ear.  He pushed it away.  It snuffled his chin.  He pushed it away.  A tongue began licking his entire face and he couldn’t help but grin.  This huge suffocating blanket of a dog was licking him like an eager puppy.  He felt the tension drain out of him and he gently pushed on the dog’s chest so that he could sit up.

Matt sat on the floor and leaned his head back.  In his best melodramatic wail he yelled, “Juuuliaaaaa!”  It was a long standing joke from their dating days and could be heard through the whole house.

The dog let out a surprisingly high pitchid yip.  Matt looked over at it and it stood up with a large doggy grin.  It walked until it was directly in front of him and sobered.  Yellow eyes held his and he heard a soft whine.  

Something changed.  Matt looked up to see if a light had come on because the dog looked lighter.  But the lights were the same, it was the dog that was different.  The fur was receding, melting back into the skin.  

Gasping, he scrambled back until his back hit the door and watched as the snout shortened.  Paws distorted and fingers appeared.  The tail shrank until it was gone, the hind end forming into human legs.  When the fur was completely gone, hair grew down from the top of the shifting head.  

The face was the last thing to finish.  A nose pushing through flatness, nostril reshaping.  Yellow eyes bleeding into a chocolate brown with gold flecks.  

Eyes that he had fallen in love with five years ago.  

Slowly, eyes never leaving his, Julie stood before him.  Naked and proud, the tilt of her chin told him what she was thinking.  She was daring him to be disgusted or angry.  To reject her for what she was.  As if rejecting her was even a possibility, she was too much a part of him for that.

He had no problem with what she was.  He had fallen in love with a strong, beutiful woman.  Who, as it happens, is also a strong, beautiful wolf.  It was an unusual package deal, but he would always take her any way that she came.  He loved her, he had always loved her and he always would.

He stood and met her eyes.  “Why in the world did you hide that for five years?”

Brown eyes flicked to the side before meeting his again.  “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Matt smiled.  She always hated talking about feelings.  Winning her heart had taken some serious creativity. Then one day he had figured out that actions are everything to her.  

He stomped over to her with mock sternness and swept her into his arms.  She was almost as tall as he was, but he still picked her up easily and walked her to the bedroom.  As he laid her on the bed, he whispered, “Don’t ever lie to me again.”

“Never.”

A long time later they laid in the bed, drowsy and satisfied.  Julia rested her head on his chest and traced the edges of a celtic tattoo that circled his arm. She lifted her head with a lazy smile.  "That wasn’t all of the news  I wanted to tell you.”

He looked down at her.  “No?”

She shook her head and her smile grew.

“No.  The news is that....I’m pregnant.”

The curse of the white screen.

I am really happy to be finding my groove this week.  This was the first full week of school for both kids and so the first example of what my life will be for the next 9 months or so.  I like the rhythm of it.  There is plenty of time to run errands, take care of the house, write and still get to work without being late.  I am chronically late everywhere I go, I have no concept of the passage of time!

The only issue that I have had is that I would sit down to write and all of the swirling tornadoes of words and stories would disappear and leave me with a blinking cursor on a white screen.  Luckily, I have been putting my non-writing time to good use and reading lots of things on creativity, writing and building a career as an author.  So I took a piece of advice and looked through old files of stuff that I had written a chapter or page of and got lost in one.  I had forgotten that I had written it, loved what I read and then kept going.  It was cathartic because I felt like a loser with my blank screen but discovered that I had written the beginning to a rather kick ass story.  Go me!

One of the things that struck me was that I could feel that I had written this character from a moment of screaming frustration.  I didn't plan her or ask myself questions, I just pictured this apologetically bad ass warrior of a woman and started writing.  You can see the fact that I got caught up in the story and probably growled at anyone that tried to stop me from typing.  All of my best writing is like that.  The thing that I try to be aware of and train myself for is that not every story will come  to me that way.  I am painfully aware of my newbie status and hope to build the discipline and skills as a writer to craft a story even if it doesn't carry me away in a storm of awesomeness.  I don't want to burn out or give this up when it's not fun anymore.  So I have stored up a mental database of things to keep me writing and have become a big fan of BICHOK.  It's a very good starting point.

So I am off to write about a werewolf and his tree sprite.  Or maybe a pink haired warrior woman.  Whatever it is, I'm already Butt In Chair Hands On Keyboard, so it's time to rock a story!

In the queue...

Well, I have finally finished switching offices with the hubby.  My crafting and sewing is still in the attic but he now inhabits the little office nook.  I had been so excited about it until I tried to write in it.  Turns out I don't like to be boxed in and I especially don't like looking at a wall.  I need windows and light, lots of it.  

Hubby is a pack rat when it comes to offices so the transition took awhile.  But now I have my space and look forward to using it.  In that vein, I have been making plans for the blog through the second half of the month.

First of all, I am working on reading an electronic ARC (Advanced Reader Copy - that means the book hasn't hit the shelves yet) of Lynn Viehl's new book Shadowlight, expect a review when I'm done.  Also, there will be a review of The Fire King by Marjorie M Liu.  That book is already out but I'm hoping that as I do more reviews I will eventually be able to get more ARCs.  Lastly, I will be posting short stories and/or chapters on Scribd.  An excerpt will be posted here on the blog along with the info to get the entire story.

I'm looking forward to rounding out the blog and beginning to work with Scribd.  Eventually I'll add interviews but I think that my plate is pretty full for now.  If anyone has any other suggestions of things that you would like to see here on the ol' blog, just leave a message in the comments and let me know.  I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Enjoy the picture of me being happy in my new office digs!   : )