I've had the idea for this post rolling around in my head for quite a while, I just haven't had the courage to actually write it. It started out as a conversation with some friends, where peole were talking about someone being "two-faced". This whole idea really intrigued me, as I'm not sure what it really means. Yes, I understand the concept of having two faces. I get that. But reallly, who can honestly say that they do not have at least two different faces? Show me a person with only one face and I'll point out that you're talking about a patient on a coma ward.
I'm not trying to put anyone down here. I'm just being honest. It fascinates me to hear people say things like "I'm the same way here that I am there!" To that I say "Yeah. Right. And pigs just flew out of my ..." Well, you get the picture.'
I think it's part of human nature to be multi-faced. It's a survival instinct, in many cases. Not long after I started this blog, I had a post that talked about all of the things that I am. You can read about it here. http://deeceetalks.blogspot.com/2006/05/all-about-me_10.html (Sorry, I'd love to do the little link thing, but for some reason, Blogger doesn't give me that option anymore since I started using Safari.) In that post, I talk about the different roles that I have in my life, as a mom, a wife, a reader, a writer, and all sorts of other "faces" that I have. I guess that post might have really been the beginning of this one.
Anyhow, it's been on my mind so often lately, that I just decided to talk about it here. Plus, the idea of separating the different parts of my life keeps popping up, so again, on my mind. As a matter of fact, it's been on my mind so much, for so long, that the idea has actually worked it's way into my WIP. In the beach story, the main character deals with this unintentionally. She has 3 friends that are all main parts of her life, but very different, very distinct parts, and they've never intersected. When they all come together, she realizes the different roles she plays to each of these people. She fulfills a different function to each of them, almost becoming a different person, without even realizing she's doing it. They even call her different variations of her name. I thought it was pretty cool.
Then I started thinking about my own life. That whole "Life imitates art" thing? Totally me. But in reverse. Because that's how it is at my house. My husband, he calls me one name. My kids they call me mom. My friends call me a variation of my birth name, dpending on when they came into my life, and what I was calling myself at the time. My writing friends call me something else. Church friends call me "Mrs.", and work friends use my given name, or a nickname. I've got quite a few nicknames, and I'll answer to just about any variation of my given or middle name.
Why? Do I think that I need to keep all of these different parts of my life distinct? Do I not want them to intersect? I think it goes deeper than that. When I'm at home with my kids, Mom is the only name I recognize. At work, my name is on my uniform, and "Mom" is just not me. With writing friends, I love the freedom of "dee"; it's short, to the point, basic, but still fun, and that's how I want to be with those people.
My character in my book has a major ah-ha moment when she realizes what she's been doing, and how hurtful it is to her, because she really caters to each of these people and has molded herself into the person that they expect her to be, instead of staying true to herself. In the end, there is a scene where she tells them what her name is, and explains that this is the only thing she wants to be called anymore. She effectively puts a stop to having to be so many people to so many people.
That is NOT a case of "art imitates life" though. Because, unlike my character, I have a pretty firm grasp on who I am. While my name may sometimes change depending on my location or crowd, my basic being remains the same. Yes, I am more forceful when in my Mommy personna, and more affectionate when in Wife mode. But basically, I've got just one face.
It just depends on what name you use for me as to what my particuilar expression might be, that's all.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Saturday, February 10, 2007
All quiet on the home front
Well, except for all that screaming today!
No, I wasn't yelling at the kids. I was yelling FOR the kids. There's a difference.
My oldest girl child was participating in the AWANA Bible Quiz in Richmond today, as part of a team. Our church had two teams competing in the high school age bracket and one team in the junior high bracket. Our junior high team came in SECOND place. Our high school teams took SECOND AND FIRST places. Can you believe that? Well, knowing how much those kids studied, I certainly can!
It was just one of those really proud parent moments for us today. Our daughter is both incredibly outgoing and amazingly shy, at the same time. While she's exuberant and in-your-face around friends and family, she can seem more like a turtle with people she doesn't know. In past years, she's been on the Bible Quiz team, yet rarely answered any questions. Today, we watched our beautiful young woman blossom right there on stage. She hesitantly took the microphone to answer a question, took a deep breath, then correctly answered the question with grace and poise. I had tears in my eyes when she sat down.
It wasn't just knowing that she got the correct answer though. It was the fact that she actually put herself out there, she stood up on that stage in front of those people and used her voice, spoke those words with confidence, remembered to say "Sir" at the end of her answer, and even managed a small smile upon learning she got it right. Three years ago, it was hard to watch her, knowing how hard she'd studied, but also knowing she was too nervous to answer anything. Today, it was like watching a beautiful sunset, that perfect balance of brilliance and peace that steals over your heart, catches your breth, and quiets your soul.
I've watched her grow a lot in these last 6 months. I know, it happens, right? They grow up, don't they? I KNOW THIS. Yet still, seeing her today, standing firm, holding that mic, it made my heart swell. I again caught a glimpse of the woman that she is becoming.
Even better than that was after the quiz, when they announced the winners. Her team took SECOND place, only a few points behind the other team. But the real test came when our youngest two girls got so excited about the win that they wanted to congratulate her. Normally one to insist on personal space and avoid physical contact from her family members, when they stood in front of where she was sitting, she grabbed them and pulled them close, held on to them for a moment, even smiled at them. Even more than her using her voice on stage today, this showed me how much she is maturing. She's learning to show the love that I know is in her heart, even when her friends are watching. She's starting to realize that she's her very own person, and that person is someone to be proud of!
And of course, the rest of the parents were just as proud of our teams. In this day and age, many folks are lucky if their kids will even attend church grudgingly. Our kids didn't have to participate. They knew it would be tough. They knew that they'd have to memorize dozens of verses, learn tons of facts, and spend an endless amount of time studying God's Word. Still, they committed themselves to the task. Today, they exemplified the AWANA key verse, 2 Timothy 2:15, which says "Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth."
Truly, there is no better example of Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed than that!
Friday, February 02, 2007
La Chandeleur in Virginia...
OR...Why Laura Florand should send me more truffles!
Ever have to do something just because you know you should? Does that ever include an enormous amount of butter, warm fruit, and a stove? Interested in what I did this morning? Well, you should be... :)
I spent the morning making crepes with my family. Don't believe me? Check out those pics! First is Jo, in mid-flip. Next is Maggie, with a look of total concentration on her face. Then is Shane, plate in hand. Everyone tried the flip, except the too-cool-to-flip teenager. There are some things that she just won't consent to do, even for French food. Flipping a crepe to be captured on my camera-phone, to be posted on my blog? Yeah, that's one of those things.
Why were we all flipping crepes? Well, my friend Laura suggested, right here on her blog, that it was a very tasty alternative to Groundhog's Day. And since Laura even shared her crepe recipe, and told us how to do "the Flip", what could we do but try it? Note: If you click over there for the recipe, be sure to check out the comments. I made it the way it says, and the crepes came out fine. But then she corrected it to make it only 1 cup liquid. Guess what? It worked fine the other way too. So, your choice!
We mixed and swished and flipped and ate for a few hours this morning. All of the kids tried the flip, more than once. Maggie was the first successful flipper. Michael had a perfect flip, then promptly ruined it by trying to show off by flipping it onto his plate. My dog, Hershey, loved him for that!
I don't have pics of everyone at the flip, because I was having so much fun watching the kids that I forgot to properly capture the moment on film. But those looks! Don't you just love that look on Maggie's face? She is so serious, so sure that her crepe is going to flip up and over, and land perfectly back in the pan, she all but wills it to happen. Laura suggested things like chocolate for toppings, but we just went basic. I like crepes, and they are a traditional early summer treat for us, usually after a day at the berry farm. So we stuck to what we like, and had blueberries, strawberries, blackberries, and an enormous tub of cool whip. Yummy!
Thanks so much, Laura, for the suggestion! If the cheers and "this was way cooler than watching the groundhog" comments are any indication, we'll be flipping crepes on February 2 for years to come.
Another note: Check out this link here for an explanation of why we flipped crepes today. Laura explains it on her blog, of course, but the link goes into more history.
Bon apetite!
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Hard days and nights
No, not a play on that old Beattles song. Yes, I think they are way cool, but really, I don't want that song stuck in your head for days. What I'm talking about is how hard my days and nights have been lately. Geez, I feel like I've been whining a lot in my blog, and I don't mean to, but I guess I've been taking on too much. Again.
The other day was an anniversary of sorts. I'm a doula in my 'spare time'. For those that don't know what that means, I'm basically a labor and delivery assistant. I've done this for years, for friends and family. I even started to do it professionally. My very first 'official' client was an incredible woman, having her first child. When the big day came, I spent over 20 hours with her, helping her labor. She ended up having a C-section, and the baby didn't make it. It was 'just one of those things'. To have a child not make it, in this day and age of medical technology, was horrific. Even knowing that I wasn't responsible, I still felt that there should have been something that I could have done. This woman trusted me to help her bring her child into the world, and I feel like I failed her.
No, she never blamed me. On the contrary. We became friends. I was at the birth of her second child, an amazingly beautiful daughter. She recently added another daughter to her family. Both of her girls are totally beautiful, and their pictures hold places of honor on my desk. I doubt their momma knows how much I treasure them.
But I take anniversaries hard, as many of you know. My mom's death knocked me for a loop, and it still does. Five years later, and you were akll witness to the mess that was me at Christmas. I get that way on her borthday as well.
Maybe that's why the past few days have been so difficult. I knew the anniversary was coming, I knew it in the back of my head. When I went shopping with my little girl the other day, we got flowers to put on the babies grave. It would have been the baby's birthday. When I saw that headstone, covered with snow, it all came rushing back to me.
I'm not the momma that lost my baby, but that passing still has a very deep impact on my life. I rejoice in their growing and very beautiful family, but I still mourn the child that is gone.
Why share this? Well, it's been on my mind a lot this week. And it was brought even closer to home when a new friend lost a family member. I was reminded again of losing my mom, and how I dealt with it. I was reminded of the loss of that baby, and how they dealt with it.
I talk about my mom every day. Every single day. I tell my kids about her, silly stories of growing up, things she liked, the way she sounded. To my kids, even the ones to young to really remember her, she is more than just someone that died five years ago. She's still "KK", and they talk about her almost as often as I do. We share things about her with each other. Even the younger two have 'memories' of her, that have been given to them by me and the older children.
And my friend that lost her baby? She talks about him to her younger ones too. On each of their birth announcements, the baby that was lost was mentioned as their 'special angel'. Those girls will grow up knowing that there was someone before them, and that person was real, and that person lived, and that person was loved.
What a legacy to my mom. What a legacy to that baby. I am so thankful that a friend told me to talk about my mom to my kids, so they wouldn't forget her. It has kept her alive in my heart and alive in their hearts. I am thankful that I passed that on to my friend that lost her baby, so she can keep that baby alive in the hearts of her other children.
Yes, I think that we have to move on, and to 'get over' a death, to learn to accept it, to learn to grieve. But I do not think there is ever a time when we should be expected to forget a loved one that has left us. I still grieve my mom. I cry sometimes out of the blue, when I see a bright bouquet of daisies (her favorite flower, and my only tattoo), when someone talks about Paris (it was her dream to go there, and she saved all 5 postcards that I sent her from there), when I hear a Conway Twitty song on the radio (she just loved him!). I've learned it's ok to cry. It teaches my children that the feelings of loss take time to heal. But after my tears, I can smile, at the beauty of those daisies, or the memories of her face when I brought her home a small Eifel Tower, or the sound of Conway's gravelly voice on the radio. That's something else my children have learned - smiles come after tears. And that's ok.
Because sometimes you have to go through the rain in order to see the rainbow.
Sometimes, there are hard days and nights. But the morning always follows the darkest night.
Always.
The other day was an anniversary of sorts. I'm a doula in my 'spare time'. For those that don't know what that means, I'm basically a labor and delivery assistant. I've done this for years, for friends and family. I even started to do it professionally. My very first 'official' client was an incredible woman, having her first child. When the big day came, I spent over 20 hours with her, helping her labor. She ended up having a C-section, and the baby didn't make it. It was 'just one of those things'. To have a child not make it, in this day and age of medical technology, was horrific. Even knowing that I wasn't responsible, I still felt that there should have been something that I could have done. This woman trusted me to help her bring her child into the world, and I feel like I failed her.
No, she never blamed me. On the contrary. We became friends. I was at the birth of her second child, an amazingly beautiful daughter. She recently added another daughter to her family. Both of her girls are totally beautiful, and their pictures hold places of honor on my desk. I doubt their momma knows how much I treasure them.
But I take anniversaries hard, as many of you know. My mom's death knocked me for a loop, and it still does. Five years later, and you were akll witness to the mess that was me at Christmas. I get that way on her borthday as well.
Maybe that's why the past few days have been so difficult. I knew the anniversary was coming, I knew it in the back of my head. When I went shopping with my little girl the other day, we got flowers to put on the babies grave. It would have been the baby's birthday. When I saw that headstone, covered with snow, it all came rushing back to me.
I'm not the momma that lost my baby, but that passing still has a very deep impact on my life. I rejoice in their growing and very beautiful family, but I still mourn the child that is gone.
Why share this? Well, it's been on my mind a lot this week. And it was brought even closer to home when a new friend lost a family member. I was reminded again of losing my mom, and how I dealt with it. I was reminded of the loss of that baby, and how they dealt with it.
I talk about my mom every day. Every single day. I tell my kids about her, silly stories of growing up, things she liked, the way she sounded. To my kids, even the ones to young to really remember her, she is more than just someone that died five years ago. She's still "KK", and they talk about her almost as often as I do. We share things about her with each other. Even the younger two have 'memories' of her, that have been given to them by me and the older children.
And my friend that lost her baby? She talks about him to her younger ones too. On each of their birth announcements, the baby that was lost was mentioned as their 'special angel'. Those girls will grow up knowing that there was someone before them, and that person was real, and that person lived, and that person was loved.
What a legacy to my mom. What a legacy to that baby. I am so thankful that a friend told me to talk about my mom to my kids, so they wouldn't forget her. It has kept her alive in my heart and alive in their hearts. I am thankful that I passed that on to my friend that lost her baby, so she can keep that baby alive in the hearts of her other children.
Yes, I think that we have to move on, and to 'get over' a death, to learn to accept it, to learn to grieve. But I do not think there is ever a time when we should be expected to forget a loved one that has left us. I still grieve my mom. I cry sometimes out of the blue, when I see a bright bouquet of daisies (her favorite flower, and my only tattoo), when someone talks about Paris (it was her dream to go there, and she saved all 5 postcards that I sent her from there), when I hear a Conway Twitty song on the radio (she just loved him!). I've learned it's ok to cry. It teaches my children that the feelings of loss take time to heal. But after my tears, I can smile, at the beauty of those daisies, or the memories of her face when I brought her home a small Eifel Tower, or the sound of Conway's gravelly voice on the radio. That's something else my children have learned - smiles come after tears. And that's ok.
Because sometimes you have to go through the rain in order to see the rainbow.
Sometimes, there are hard days and nights. But the morning always follows the darkest night.
Always.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Ahem. Time for a new post, huh?
Well, I have nothing to say. No, really, I mean it. I am out of words. Sorry.
Why has it been so long since I've blogged? I don't know. Really I don't. I just haven't had anything to say.
I've been working, way more than I want to work. We have a training coordinator and 4 trainers at the restaurant. Well, we had 4 trainers. One of them quit. One of them was on vacation. One of them has a lot of personal issues. And the coordinator was gone for a week. So yeah, that left ME working, more than I'm used to working. I know, I know, many of you have full time jobs and you still manage to blog. But I'm not you. I'm not used to being out of my home so much. I'm not used to coming home so tired, and being so frazzled. This job is supposed to be mindless. It's just biscuits and gravy. Ok, it's also chicken-n-dumplins, and meatloaf. But really, just biscuits-n-gravy. Not brain surgery. Not taxes. But I feel like I've had a lobotomy and been well and truly taxed. Ugh.
I haven't been writing. Not here. Not on my book. Not on anything. I feel all of this stuff, stored up inside of me. I want to let it out. I need to let it out. But I can't make the time to do it. I'm just too tired. And that makes me sad. And mad.
I have some friends that are going through some shtuff. Yeah. Bad things are a-happenin' in their home. Not baad, like brawls and diseases and deaths, but still, bad enough. They are sad, and mad, and sick of being together. This makes me sad. So I've been trying to spend lots of time with them, trying to remind them why they got married, trying to get them to feel the love, instead of all of the petty stuff that they've been feeling.
I miss my Grams. I miss my brother. They are out in Oklahoma and New Orleans, of course. Not here. Nowhere close to here. Very far away. It's been over a year since I've seen my Grams. It's been over a year since I've seen my brother. That's just way too long. So, I've made plans to change that. I'm taking that beautiful daughter that you all saw for weeks on a road trip next month. We're heading down to the Big Easy, for Mardi Gras, to visit the lil' bro. I'm leaving her there for a while. While she's gone, I'll be off work. Then, in May, I'm taking the whole fam out to see Grams.
I haven't heard back about that job I mentioned. This makes me sad. But still, if there is one job that has nothing to do with the food biz, then there are more, right? I'm clinging to this thought right now, as my feet throb out their angst at being beneath my winter-bloated body for way too many hours today. I really want to be out of the slinging-hash(browns) business forever. Maybe, if I can ever finish the book, I can get it sold and won't have to be a waitress anymore. Now, please don't start bursting my bubble by telling me how many people dream of the very same thing and it never happens. I just don't want to hear you. Wanna know why? Because frankly - I don't care. I'm going to beat the odds. I'm going to finish the damn book. Then I'm going to finish the other one. Then the other one. Then I'm going to sell one of them. Then the others. Then I won't ever have to ask, "Would you care to try some coca-cola cake today?" ever again. Ever. Don't even DARE tell me it won't happen, because if you do, I'll just stick my tongue out at you and put my fingers in my ears, and roll my eyes, until you mutter "So childish!" under your breath and click right off of my blog.
That's what I'm feeling. That's where I've been. That's what I'm going to do.
Any questions?
Nah. Didn't think so.
Why has it been so long since I've blogged? I don't know. Really I don't. I just haven't had anything to say.
I've been working, way more than I want to work. We have a training coordinator and 4 trainers at the restaurant. Well, we had 4 trainers. One of them quit. One of them was on vacation. One of them has a lot of personal issues. And the coordinator was gone for a week. So yeah, that left ME working, more than I'm used to working. I know, I know, many of you have full time jobs and you still manage to blog. But I'm not you. I'm not used to being out of my home so much. I'm not used to coming home so tired, and being so frazzled. This job is supposed to be mindless. It's just biscuits and gravy. Ok, it's also chicken-n-dumplins, and meatloaf. But really, just biscuits-n-gravy. Not brain surgery. Not taxes. But I feel like I've had a lobotomy and been well and truly taxed. Ugh.
I haven't been writing. Not here. Not on my book. Not on anything. I feel all of this stuff, stored up inside of me. I want to let it out. I need to let it out. But I can't make the time to do it. I'm just too tired. And that makes me sad. And mad.
I have some friends that are going through some shtuff. Yeah. Bad things are a-happenin' in their home. Not baad, like brawls and diseases and deaths, but still, bad enough. They are sad, and mad, and sick of being together. This makes me sad. So I've been trying to spend lots of time with them, trying to remind them why they got married, trying to get them to feel the love, instead of all of the petty stuff that they've been feeling.
I miss my Grams. I miss my brother. They are out in Oklahoma and New Orleans, of course. Not here. Nowhere close to here. Very far away. It's been over a year since I've seen my Grams. It's been over a year since I've seen my brother. That's just way too long. So, I've made plans to change that. I'm taking that beautiful daughter that you all saw for weeks on a road trip next month. We're heading down to the Big Easy, for Mardi Gras, to visit the lil' bro. I'm leaving her there for a while. While she's gone, I'll be off work. Then, in May, I'm taking the whole fam out to see Grams.
I haven't heard back about that job I mentioned. This makes me sad. But still, if there is one job that has nothing to do with the food biz, then there are more, right? I'm clinging to this thought right now, as my feet throb out their angst at being beneath my winter-bloated body for way too many hours today. I really want to be out of the slinging-hash(browns) business forever. Maybe, if I can ever finish the book, I can get it sold and won't have to be a waitress anymore. Now, please don't start bursting my bubble by telling me how many people dream of the very same thing and it never happens. I just don't want to hear you. Wanna know why? Because frankly - I don't care. I'm going to beat the odds. I'm going to finish the damn book. Then I'm going to finish the other one. Then the other one. Then I'm going to sell one of them. Then the others. Then I won't ever have to ask, "Would you care to try some coca-cola cake today?" ever again. Ever. Don't even DARE tell me it won't happen, because if you do, I'll just stick my tongue out at you and put my fingers in my ears, and roll my eyes, until you mutter "So childish!" under your breath and click right off of my blog.
That's what I'm feeling. That's where I've been. That's what I'm going to do.
Any questions?
Nah. Didn't think so.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
And she's smiling!
Today, I am a braggin' momma.On the right is my beautiful oldest daughter, Gretchen. Next to her is her friend, Kelsey. Gret and Kels are all dressed up for the Christmas Banquet. Teens from local churches attend the banquet every year, and they get all decked out to do it.
Come on now, isn't she purdy???
Saturday, January 06, 2007
The end of the first week of the New Year...
Where has the time gone?!?
Can you believe we're almost a full week into the New Year already? As I sit here, on this incredibly warm Saturday morning, I find myself wondering where the time has gone. I mean, just yesterday (well, ok, a few days ago) it was last year. Now, the first week is fading.
Honestly thinking that I have a snowcones shot in hell of making sense this morning, I've decided to blog a bit. See, I had a full house last night. Eight boys, between the ages of 7 and 13. I'm still standing, and so is my house. That's a bonus. No holes were knocked in the wall. Another bonus. It was the annual Michael's Birthday Sleepover and Game-System Challenge. Basically, the Christmas Eve-born oldest male child postpones his birthday bash until the first weekend in january, to make sure that any friends travelling during the holiday season are able to make it to his party. For the past few years, he's had the same type of party. The boys come over Friday night, then spend the night awake, playing XBox, Playstation, or GameCube. This year, they got to play the new Wii as well. We try to get rid of the girls that night, and it's all about the boys having fun. The only rules are that they are not allowed to leave the house, and they are not allowed to fight. This year, we had them all on the main floor of the house, one room for the Wii on the big screen, another room for any other system on the smaller tv. Only one kid made it all the way through the night, and that was my younger son, Mathew. I generally try to stay awake for most of the night, and my last head check was at 4:15 this morning. Then I got up at 8:30 to fix pancakes and bacon. So yeah, I'm a bit tired. But the smile on Michael's face more than made up for it. And he even hugged me. Without being paid, coerced or threatened. It was really cool.
I've been a writing slacker. I haven't written a single thing ALL YEAR. That's all I've got to say about that.
I've been working more than I wanted to this year. I worked four days this week, and it just wreaked havoc with my writing and reading schedule. But there may be a solution. I was offered a job the other night while I was at work. A very nice woman asked me if I would consider working for her, NOT AS A WAITRESS!! Yeah, I was pretty jazzed. She runs an assisted living group home for mentally challenged adults, and she asked me if I'd come over for dinner next week and see if I liked it. It sounds like a very emotionally and mentally fulfilling job, and not nearly as physically exhausting as the food place. So I'm seriously considering it.
I have to tell you that part of the reason I'm thinking about a new job is because I've been taking stock of my life a lot lately. No, I'm not big into resolutions at all. I think people really set themselves up for failure with those, and it just seems sad to me. If you eant to lose weight, or quit smoking, or something, then just do it. Don't wait for a special day, and put a label on it, then feel like a failure if you don't live up to that resolution. Just do it. Start any day of the week, and decide to try to change. *I* am worth it t o change. *YOU* are worth it as well. Who needs a publicly announced list to live up to? Not me.
Anyhow, taking stock of my life... I don't want to feel boxed into things anymore. i don't want to do things out of duty or obligation. I want to do them because I love doing them, and no otehr reason. I liked the restaurant when I started. I still like my friends up there. But really, the job has lost its shine for me. It's just a job now. Yes, I am very spoiled. I have a husband that has a job that makes it possible for me to not have to scramble for a full time position. Still, I like to have a little extra in my pocket, I like a few hours away from the kids, and I like having a place where they know me by my first name, instead of "Mom". So I was already thinking about quitting, but not sure what I wanted to do next. I like trying new things, and I like new experiences. I wanted some sort of adventure. I wanted something that would keep my mind fresh and introduce new ideas for stories on a fairly regular basis. I think I found it in this new job offer. Honestly, since I spoke with that woman Thursday night, I've had a sotry forming in my head. I can't start writing it yet, of course. I really need to finish the other ones that I've already started. But still, it's there, growing each hour that passes. And already, I can hear a woman's voice. And I can see a man's face. And I know what the conflict will be. And I know the resolution. And it's getting crisper and clearer in my head with each thought. So I've got to finish at least one of the ones going, so I can start this new one.
And that brings me to my other 'take stock' issue. I really need to finish my stories. I need to get over my fear and finish one, so I can send it out to a few of you and get some feedback, and know if I'm wasitng my time or not. I know that it's just fear keeping my fingers from the keyboard, even though I'm very creative in coming up with loads of excuses not to be writing. I have to get over the fear and finish. So I can know. Are you getting that the fear isn't about finishing the story so much as the reality of sending it out and waiting to hear if it's any good?
That's all for now. I've got to clean up after the boys. Then I'm heading upstairs to check on my people, see if they're still where I left them, see if they're even speaking to me anymore after I ignored them for so long.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
ABC Meme, from Joss's blog...
A- Available or single? Yeah, sure.
B- Best Friend? Shane. Duh. Then Kelly, she's known me longer than anyone else. Kim and Charity fit right in there as well.
C- Cake or Pie? Mom's yucky old chocolate cinammon cake.
D- Drink of Choice? Cafe Momma, aka coffee fixed just for me by my daughter Jordan.
E- Essential Item? books
F- Favorite Color? red, and I've really taken a liking to PINK the past few months as well. That might have something to do with my fabulous Pink Warrior friends, Michelle and Renee though.
G- Gummi Bears or Worms? bears. it's just fun to bite off their little heads.
H- Hometown? Well, I was born in Winfield, Ks. But I grew up all over the place. I graduated in Vegas, so we'll go with that. It just sounds so much cooler than Kansas, huh?
I- Indulgence? I really don't have that many of these. I guess my lambrusco.
J- January or February? February. It's the month that reminds me most of Europe, as that's when I was in both Italy and Paris.
K- Kids and names? Gretchen, Michael, Jordan, Mathew, Maggie, Emile.
L- Life is incomplete without? My husband. No, really. I can barely make it through a whole day without him. You guys have been witness to that.
M- Marriage Date? Our legal marriage date is in December. But we celebrate our anniversary in August, the day of our first kiss and dance.
N- Number of Siblings? 1 Brother, Ron, who is younger and a big pain in the butt. He's also one of my very favorite people in the whole world.
O- Oranges or apples? Oranges, especially if they have cloves in them and are simmering in a huge pot of dark wine, about to be made into sangria.
P- Phobias/Fears? Failure. Most notably as a mommy. Also as a wife, friend, writer. You name it, I'm afraid I'll screw it up.
Q- Favorite Quote? Duh. Just take a look at my "favorite sayings" over there on the right
R- Reason to Smile? see "K"
S- Season? Any of the ones that aren't winter.
T- Tag three people! Tag? Oh, I suck at that game. I can't run fast enough to catch the big kids, and I feel too bad to catch the little kids, so I'm usually "it" for at least three rounds!
U- Unknown Fact About Me? I ran away from home when I was 18. I just hopped on a bus from Vegas and headed off to California. I had $39 in my wallet and $5 in my pocket. Every last penny was stolen from my wallet, so I showed up in San Diego with enough for bus fare to the beach. I took that bus, met a really cool couple, slept on their floor for a few days, headed north to LA, found a job, stayed in a shelter-type place for a fw months, then went out to Texas to see my grandparents before going into the Navy. I'd already joined before heading off to California. The bus trip and 4 following months was just me seeing if I could make it without anyone else. I did, of course. I think I've never been more scared, or more proud, of anything in my life. And if my daughter (any of them) ever tries anything like that, I'll probably kill her.
V- Vegetable you hate? I can say in all honesty that the only veggie that earns HATE from me is PEAS. Can't stand 'em. Won't fix 'em. Gag if I even smell 'em. Spinach? Bring it on. Brussels sprouts? Love the things. But peas? Oh Gawd, I hate those!
W- Worst habit? Not finishing what I start.
X- X-Rays you've had? head. wrist. knees. ankles. stomach. chest. geez, sounds like i've been messed up a lot. But really, except for a broken wrist during my first marriage, i've never had a broken bone.
Y- Your favorite food? i LOVE Mexican food.
Z- Zodiac? crab. well, Moon child sounds so much better, doesn't it? still though - i'm a crab!
Just wanted to share...
This is the view from my office window.
Words don't even begin to describe it, so I thought a picture might work.
Thanks to all of you that reminded me that I do, in fact, have a voice.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Christmas Joy!!
Spreading it is more fun than I remembered...
I am overwhelmed this Christmas morning. I don't know how else to explain it. First, there was THIS beautiful gift, from two of my favorite authors (Jenny and Bob, her and him, The Cherry and The GAM). Then, there was the rest...
Last night, the fam went to church for the Christmas Eve candle lit service. It was beyond beautiful. The sanctuary was decorated in candles and colors, smiles were everywhere, and music filled the air. All of our church families had the opportunity to showcase their own special talents. Some people read passages, some performed on the guitar or piano, some sang. We also had a special time of the Lord's Table (Communion, to some of you). During this time, the floor was open for anyone that felt compelled to give testimonies. I don't know how it is in other churches, but I always love it when we get to give testimonies. This year, for me, the highlight centered around a young woman named Tia. Tia is new to our church. She's a teenager that attends the local high school. She was brought to our church by her best friend, Amanda, and Amanda helped lead her to the Lord. Tia's family has been out of church for over a decade, but her newfound passion for Christ brought them to our church last night. When Tia gave her testimony, thanking our church for wlecoming her with open arms, thanking her friend for bringing her, and thanking the Lord for her Salvation, there was not a dry eye in the house. That included her mom and her dad. Tia's mom also gave a testimony, thanking everyone for being there for her daughter, and promising to start attending with her. Truly, this was the best Christmas gift I could ask for. Our family has been praying for Tia and her folks, and seeing the three of them there, sitting together and worshipping God on that Holy night, well, it was an answer to prayer. Thank you, Lord, for the wonderful way you answer our prayers!
This morning started around 5am. When you have little ones, you get an early start. Ok, that's not entirely true. When you have a mom that has been up half the night, waiting to see smiles on little faces, and the clock finally hits 5:30, and she sneaks into the room where the 3 youngest girls are sleeping and starts singing Christmas carols in their ears, that's when you really get an early start.
Stockings first, of course. No, we don't do Santa, but they still expect stockings. Then, it was trying to get the teenager to wake up. She was being stubborn. Finally, we were all assembled around the tree, after moving the couch from the tv room so mom and dad had a place to sit. Then the fun began.
Golf clubs(Jo), Bionicles(Mathew), Tinkerbell blankets(Gret), Cherry wallets(Mags), wallets filled with GameStop gift cards(Michael), handheld Princess games(Ems), socks(Shane), and BOOKS!(me, of course), were just a few of our Christmas treats. I will say that I got BOTH Dear John in hardback AND Between, Georgia in audio format, along with a new bag for the Mac I am getting soon, a thumb drive to move all my wip's around (when I get my Mac), a new very soft robe, lots of fuzzy socks, pens, silverware, a new addition to my Christmas village, a Bible engraved with my name, and many other wonderfully perfect gifts. Yeah, I am LOVED, what can I say?
The kids are totally ga-ga over their Wii, of course (thanks a ton, you know who you are!). Shane likes most everything he got, including his Fighting Irish tie and new clothes. The only oops was when he opened his new Zen-M. Instead of the 60gb, I got him the 30gb. He says it's ok, but still, it's not exactly what he wanted, so I have gift remorse. You know how that goes, right?
So what does all this mean? Well, here's the deal. You all really blew me away with your love and support when I mentioned how difficult this season is for me. Penny and Sheryl sent e-mails. McB sent an e-card, as did Robin. Other people sent e-mails or left comments. And Charity, oh dear sweet Charity, made sure that I got not only one, but TWO, calendars. I felt so loved, so very blessed this year. I kept telling Shane how wonderful my friends are, but I don't know that he really understood just how much you all mean to me. You're so much more than I ever dreamed!
Last night, watching Tia sit there next to her parents, tears streaming down her face because they were actually with her, was like a revelation. No, I didn't have my mom next to me. And that hurt, I won't even try to pretend it didn't. But she was there, in spirit, in my heart, in the smile of my shildren and the warm and reassuring pressure of my husband's grasp. She was there. And like Shane said, if she could, she'd probably kick my butt for being such a Grinch. And this morning, watching the joy on the faces of my babies, I know what she must have felt for so many years.
See, it's not just about the gifts. It's not just about the traditions that you share, new or old. It's not about who gets what for whom, or how much you spend. It's in those smiles you see on the faces of the people you love. It's in the strength of the arm that goes around your shoulders when you're feeling pain. It's in the support and friendship that shows up in your mailbox, electronic or the one by the road, when you're least expecting it. Christmas is about love.
God loves us enough to have sent his only Son to this earth, to be born and to grow and to travel and to teach, then to die for our sins on a tree. There is no greater love than that. Through His love, we were given the best Christmas gift imaginable, better than an audiobook or a Wii. And through His love, it's possible to see how many other gifts we are given every single day.
Every. Single. Day.
I miss you, Mom.
I found my Christmas Joy.
Thank you.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Christmas time...in which I *heart* the Grinch...
In which I *am* the Grinch!
Ahh, the holidays. That wonderful time of year where families gather together in the spirit of love and joy, to give gifts and sing songs and eat food and share happiness. Right? RIGHT?!? Yeah, right. And if you're thinking this blog will be all happy at the end, stop reading now.
I gotta admit this to you guys, and you can ho and hum and call me Scrooge all you want, but here it is... I freakin hate Christmas! There. I said it. Go ahead, tell me I'm a Grinch. Tell me that my heart is ten sizes too small and my face is green and I talk funny. Tell me that I'll be visited by 3 ghosts and all little Timmy needs is medical attention but won't get it because I'm a hateful tightwad miser. I don't care. I really, really don't. Not even one little bit.
When I was a wee lass, Christmas was a magical time of year for me. Well, frankly, if there was a day that Hallmark made a card for, it was pretty special. Did any of you ever get a gift on Groundhogs Day, Flag Day, Labor Day? I rest my case. My mom had this way of finding something for every single holiday that you could possibly imagine. She loved giving gifts. She loved shopping. She had this incredible talent of finding the exact right present for the exact right person, every single time. I never got a single thing that I had to pretend to adore. She was just THAT good at the gift thing. Even with my kids, she was amazing. It was joy and light, just watching people open packages that she had lovingly wrapped. I even liked watching my brother open his gifts, because I knew he would have the perfect thing too. And did I mention that she did it all the time, even if we didn't quite have the money for it? We might be eating good ol' mac-n-cheese until April, but by God, we were getting the perfect gifts at Christmas!
Growing up like that, I was always in the Christmas spirit. I never had to fake it. I loved seeing all the snowflakes and trees go up, no matter how early. Christmas music? Couldn't get enough of it. And yes, I inherited my mother's talent for finding the perfect gift. I nurtured that talent so well, and for so long, that it became almost a magical thing. I was a shopper and a hoarder and one of those people that was totally done buying every single gift by the time October 1st rolled around. Really. I'm so not kidding. October 1st. One year, I was done by my birthday. That's in July, in case you forgot.
And the gifts? I bought them for virtually everyone I knew. Kids teachers, bus drivers, mail delivery people, favorite checker at the Food Lion, Preacher, friends, family, and of course about 4 different Angel Tree kids. I just loved finding and buying, and giving, and watching those faces light up on Christmas morn.
Four years ago, that all changed for me. Why? Well, five years ago, my mom died. Three days after spending her last Christmas with us. She was on her way home and she just...died. We buried her in January and that was the start of my Grinch-ness. That year, 2002, the Christmas joy also just...died. I think part of it was knowing that when I opened my gifts, I wouldn't find that perfect one from my mom. I dreaded Christmas morning for months, knowing that that one special gift would be missing from under my tree. Well, that one special gift and a calendar. Every year, she got me a calendar. Every year, it was different. Every year, it was just right. One year, it was Angels (my nickname). One year, it was seascapes (I luvvver the ocean). One year, it was babies (I like those too :) ). I knew that even though I'd hinted to my various friends and family that I'd really miss that calendar, it still wouldn't be there. And it wasn't. And even though I got some really great gifts that year, none of them were "perfect".
The years have slowly slunk by, and every time it hits October, I start getting this roiling in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I see that first green tree, or hear that first carol, I get a pounding behind my left eye and a tic at my jaw, and I just want to run and hide until January. I can't stand to shop anymore. I don't buy gifts for anyone unless I have to. And lately, I don't even like buying gifts for people that really deserve them. It makes me sad and mad and sick, but it's true. I have lost my Christmas joy.
I will buy for my children. I will buy for my husband. Anyone that does not live in my house is pretty lucky to even get a phone call from me at this time of year. I feel bad about it, but not bad enough to make myself pretend to like this season and go out and try to find gifts for other people. I've resorted to gift cards for Shane's family, because I can get those at the WaWa and I don't have to actually go into a store. They're the only people on this planet besides the ones living under my roof that I'm getting anything at all for, so I guess that's a bonus, right?
Much of it is because my mom is gone. I know this. I know she's gone. I know she isn't coming back. I know that I didn't do anything to make her leave, and that she knew I loved her when she left, and I even know she loved me. But she was my Christmas joy and inspiration for 29 years. Now that she's gone, I just don't have that anymore. Still though, that's not all.
I hate the whole "I want this, so this is what you must buy me" mentality that prevails during this whole damn season. What? My kids don't have enough crap already? We need a special day just to spend a metric butt-ton of money on stuff that will be broken or forgotten by the first of the year? Yeah, right. And grown-ups? Gimme a break. You have a job. You make your own damn money. Buy yourself whatever the heck you want and save me the hassle. WHY should I buy something for you? WHY should I feel guilty knowing that you're going to go out and spend $15 on a generic basket of bath stuff for me that I probably won't even use (unless, of course, you actually go to Bath & Body Works. They have really nice baskets full of stuff)?
I like giving stuff the whole year long, but I hate doing it at Christmas. It's just so forced. It's so calculated. It's so damn fake. Christmas is not about how many new toys or things you get. It's about the celebration of the birth of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know he wasn't really born on December 25th. I know it was actually a pagan holiday. But is it called "Paganmas"? No. It is NOT. It is called CHRISTmas. It's supposed to be about Christ.
So to everyone out there that is secretly thinking that you're going to get a card or gift from me, because you know deep in your heart of hearts that I love you and that you are special to me and that you are my ray of sunshine and I will surely want to express all of that this month... EXHALE. It's not going to happen. Yes, I do love you. Yes, you are special. Yes, you are the ray of sunlight that brightens my every waking moment, and I want to shout it from the rafters for all of the world to hear. But...get with me on this one, ok?
I hate Christmas.
I'll be sending you a gift for Groundhog's Day.
Thank me later.
Ahh, the holidays. That wonderful time of year where families gather together in the spirit of love and joy, to give gifts and sing songs and eat food and share happiness. Right? RIGHT?!? Yeah, right. And if you're thinking this blog will be all happy at the end, stop reading now.
I gotta admit this to you guys, and you can ho and hum and call me Scrooge all you want, but here it is... I freakin hate Christmas! There. I said it. Go ahead, tell me I'm a Grinch. Tell me that my heart is ten sizes too small and my face is green and I talk funny. Tell me that I'll be visited by 3 ghosts and all little Timmy needs is medical attention but won't get it because I'm a hateful tightwad miser. I don't care. I really, really don't. Not even one little bit.
When I was a wee lass, Christmas was a magical time of year for me. Well, frankly, if there was a day that Hallmark made a card for, it was pretty special. Did any of you ever get a gift on Groundhogs Day, Flag Day, Labor Day? I rest my case. My mom had this way of finding something for every single holiday that you could possibly imagine. She loved giving gifts. She loved shopping. She had this incredible talent of finding the exact right present for the exact right person, every single time. I never got a single thing that I had to pretend to adore. She was just THAT good at the gift thing. Even with my kids, she was amazing. It was joy and light, just watching people open packages that she had lovingly wrapped. I even liked watching my brother open his gifts, because I knew he would have the perfect thing too. And did I mention that she did it all the time, even if we didn't quite have the money for it? We might be eating good ol' mac-n-cheese until April, but by God, we were getting the perfect gifts at Christmas!
Growing up like that, I was always in the Christmas spirit. I never had to fake it. I loved seeing all the snowflakes and trees go up, no matter how early. Christmas music? Couldn't get enough of it. And yes, I inherited my mother's talent for finding the perfect gift. I nurtured that talent so well, and for so long, that it became almost a magical thing. I was a shopper and a hoarder and one of those people that was totally done buying every single gift by the time October 1st rolled around. Really. I'm so not kidding. October 1st. One year, I was done by my birthday. That's in July, in case you forgot.
And the gifts? I bought them for virtually everyone I knew. Kids teachers, bus drivers, mail delivery people, favorite checker at the Food Lion, Preacher, friends, family, and of course about 4 different Angel Tree kids. I just loved finding and buying, and giving, and watching those faces light up on Christmas morn.
Four years ago, that all changed for me. Why? Well, five years ago, my mom died. Three days after spending her last Christmas with us. She was on her way home and she just...died. We buried her in January and that was the start of my Grinch-ness. That year, 2002, the Christmas joy also just...died. I think part of it was knowing that when I opened my gifts, I wouldn't find that perfect one from my mom. I dreaded Christmas morning for months, knowing that that one special gift would be missing from under my tree. Well, that one special gift and a calendar. Every year, she got me a calendar. Every year, it was different. Every year, it was just right. One year, it was Angels (my nickname). One year, it was seascapes (I luvvver the ocean). One year, it was babies (I like those too :) ). I knew that even though I'd hinted to my various friends and family that I'd really miss that calendar, it still wouldn't be there. And it wasn't. And even though I got some really great gifts that year, none of them were "perfect".
The years have slowly slunk by, and every time it hits October, I start getting this roiling in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I see that first green tree, or hear that first carol, I get a pounding behind my left eye and a tic at my jaw, and I just want to run and hide until January. I can't stand to shop anymore. I don't buy gifts for anyone unless I have to. And lately, I don't even like buying gifts for people that really deserve them. It makes me sad and mad and sick, but it's true. I have lost my Christmas joy.
I will buy for my children. I will buy for my husband. Anyone that does not live in my house is pretty lucky to even get a phone call from me at this time of year. I feel bad about it, but not bad enough to make myself pretend to like this season and go out and try to find gifts for other people. I've resorted to gift cards for Shane's family, because I can get those at the WaWa and I don't have to actually go into a store. They're the only people on this planet besides the ones living under my roof that I'm getting anything at all for, so I guess that's a bonus, right?
Much of it is because my mom is gone. I know this. I know she's gone. I know she isn't coming back. I know that I didn't do anything to make her leave, and that she knew I loved her when she left, and I even know she loved me. But she was my Christmas joy and inspiration for 29 years. Now that she's gone, I just don't have that anymore. Still though, that's not all.
I hate the whole "I want this, so this is what you must buy me" mentality that prevails during this whole damn season. What? My kids don't have enough crap already? We need a special day just to spend a metric butt-ton of money on stuff that will be broken or forgotten by the first of the year? Yeah, right. And grown-ups? Gimme a break. You have a job. You make your own damn money. Buy yourself whatever the heck you want and save me the hassle. WHY should I buy something for you? WHY should I feel guilty knowing that you're going to go out and spend $15 on a generic basket of bath stuff for me that I probably won't even use (unless, of course, you actually go to Bath & Body Works. They have really nice baskets full of stuff)?
I like giving stuff the whole year long, but I hate doing it at Christmas. It's just so forced. It's so calculated. It's so damn fake. Christmas is not about how many new toys or things you get. It's about the celebration of the birth of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know he wasn't really born on December 25th. I know it was actually a pagan holiday. But is it called "Paganmas"? No. It is NOT. It is called CHRISTmas. It's supposed to be about Christ.
So to everyone out there that is secretly thinking that you're going to get a card or gift from me, because you know deep in your heart of hearts that I love you and that you are special to me and that you are my ray of sunshine and I will surely want to express all of that this month... EXHALE. It's not going to happen. Yes, I do love you. Yes, you are special. Yes, you are the ray of sunlight that brightens my every waking moment, and I want to shout it from the rafters for all of the world to hear. But...get with me on this one, ok?
I hate Christmas.
I'll be sending you a gift for Groundhog's Day.
Thank me later.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Do I have an accent?
Finding my own voice
I was talking to my oldest child the other day about my writing. In tyring to explain about why it is a bit frightening to me to finish my story, I started talking to her about why it was that I write in the first place. I mentioned to her that I was on my yearbook staff in high school. I was also on the school newspaper staff. At each of my duty stations while in the Navy I wrote stories or articles for my command newsletter. Growing up, I wanted to be a war journalist. Yes, I'm serious. I wanted to have an old camera, in a battered bag, and travel to hell's armpit and take pictures and write stories that made people think and feel and cry. That was my dream. I could see it in my head.
I have no idea why I wanted to be a war journalist, except maybe because I love photography and I love writing. Seriously, I don't love war. I think war is crazy scary, and I'm not all that hot on jungles or guerillas, or gorillas either, or Kalashnikovs, or seeing death up close and personal. I watched a butterfly die one day and cried for weeks, so I'm really not sure what made me think I'd be able to watch real people die without having to spend the rest of my days in one of those beautiful wrap-around white coats. Silly, really, thinking I'd be able to do that.
But in talking to Gret, I remembered something else. See, I've always been a writer. I think I may have mentioned before how I've always liked to write, but I think I wasn't really ready to admit how much a part of me that writing is. I can remember attempting my first novel. I was in 8th grade. I wrote about 100 pages of it. I let a few friends read it, and one of their moms read it also. She actually cried. She told me that when I got my first book published, she was going to buy 50 copies of it and pass them out at Christmas and tell everyone that she read my first book. Man, I wish I could remember her name! Of course, we moved so much that I barely recall the names of any of my friends, much less their moms. Well, except Jennipher Anderson. I remember her mom's name was Pam, and she had a sister named Julie. She was my friend in 4th grade, when I lived in California.
Anyhow, I've always loved to write. I've started a lot of books, but haven't finished most of them. Usually, something happens in my life that takes me away from the story. Normal things that have stopped me from finishing have been things like moving, giving birth, getting deployed, losing my mother. You know, some real life changing things have happened. As such, it has been a bit hard for me to find my "voice" as a writer.
I think that a writer's voice is what distinguishes each and every book. Some writers are so unique that you can almost recognize their writing without looking at the name on the cover. Most of you have favorites, and it's because that person has a way of weaving together words that creates a magical place for you, a place that you never want to leave. I sing the praises of my favorite voices all the time. I can actually hear the author's voice as I read their books, and it is like listening to music for me. That's why I think it's been so hard for me. See, I don't have an accent.
I grew up all over the place. I was born in Kansas, but never lived there. I lived in Oklahoma and Texas as a baby. Then we moved to Panama, as in Central America. Then to Vegas. Dallas. California, Arizona, back to Vegas, south Texas, Georgia, back to Vegas, California again, back to Vegas, Florida, Puerto Rico, Maryland, and three different places in Virginia. I am married to a man from Ohio. He sounds Canadian. My children sound like perfect little mixes of Southern twang, Texas drawl, and California surf. But me? Yeah, no accent. None. I sound a bit like a radio broadcaster, I guess. Those of you that know me may not realize that though. I'm more of a chameleon with my voice. I can do accents, but I don't really have one. So when I'm writing, I don't hear the lyrical notes of the South, or the brassiness of the South Bronx, or the dropped "r's" of the Northeast, or the long "o's" of the North. I feel like it shows in my writing. And I don't know how I can make the words more me.
I'd like to sound like a cross between Annie Savoy and Delta Burke, with a little Kathleen Turner thrown in for good measure. When I think about it, I want people to read my words and hear huskiness and sultriness and breathlessness. At heart, I think I'm really from South Carolina, or maybe Memphis. If I could pick, I know I'd be Southern. My mom was Southern. My Grams still is. My kids sound like it. My husband is convinced that in a few years he will be (he's got it in his head that when he turns 37, he'll have officially spent more time in Virginia than Ohio, so then he will be SOUTHERN. He refuses to believe me when I tell him it doesn't work like that!). I watched Bull Durham enough to memorize every inflection in Annie's repertoire. I can do the whole "despite my rejection... I am...monogamous" thing and be spot-on, really!
I'm just not sure that wanting to be Southern, wanting to sound Southern, being raised by a Southern momma with Southern rules, eating Southern food, having all of my good memories - every single one of those happy-firefly-warm-breeze-through-the-pecan-tree-at-twilight memories- take place in a Southern place... well, I just don't think that makes me Southern. And dernitalltoheck, I wanna be Southern! I wanna sound like Scarlett when she's standing out on the side of that hill, turnip in hand, making declarations to the air. I want to sound like my friend Kim, who can make even a curse sound like poetry rolling off her Tennessee lips.
But really, I just want to be able to describe things, like the sun, as it's waving a silent goodbye to me, sinking slowly into the horizon, leaving behind a trail of lava and fire and roses across the sky, bathing the meadow outside my window in beauty. I see this sight every day. I make sure that I'm sitting here in my chair at sunset every evening, just so I can see that daily last hurrah of the sun. I arranged my desk next to a window, just for this daily reminder of beauty, to be able to witness this amazing ritual, this breathtaking miracle. It stops my heart every single time. It brings tears to my eyes. I can hear the angels singing in my ear, telling of the promise of another spectacular display, same time tomorrow.
If I could find a way to describe this in a way that other people would also be able to envision this sight, then I know I would have found my very own voice. But until then, I guess all I have to say is...
"Hey, look... the sunset. Ain't it purdy?"
I was talking to my oldest child the other day about my writing. In tyring to explain about why it is a bit frightening to me to finish my story, I started talking to her about why it was that I write in the first place. I mentioned to her that I was on my yearbook staff in high school. I was also on the school newspaper staff. At each of my duty stations while in the Navy I wrote stories or articles for my command newsletter. Growing up, I wanted to be a war journalist. Yes, I'm serious. I wanted to have an old camera, in a battered bag, and travel to hell's armpit and take pictures and write stories that made people think and feel and cry. That was my dream. I could see it in my head.
I have no idea why I wanted to be a war journalist, except maybe because I love photography and I love writing. Seriously, I don't love war. I think war is crazy scary, and I'm not all that hot on jungles or guerillas, or gorillas either, or Kalashnikovs, or seeing death up close and personal. I watched a butterfly die one day and cried for weeks, so I'm really not sure what made me think I'd be able to watch real people die without having to spend the rest of my days in one of those beautiful wrap-around white coats. Silly, really, thinking I'd be able to do that.
But in talking to Gret, I remembered something else. See, I've always been a writer. I think I may have mentioned before how I've always liked to write, but I think I wasn't really ready to admit how much a part of me that writing is. I can remember attempting my first novel. I was in 8th grade. I wrote about 100 pages of it. I let a few friends read it, and one of their moms read it also. She actually cried. She told me that when I got my first book published, she was going to buy 50 copies of it and pass them out at Christmas and tell everyone that she read my first book. Man, I wish I could remember her name! Of course, we moved so much that I barely recall the names of any of my friends, much less their moms. Well, except Jennipher Anderson. I remember her mom's name was Pam, and she had a sister named Julie. She was my friend in 4th grade, when I lived in California.
Anyhow, I've always loved to write. I've started a lot of books, but haven't finished most of them. Usually, something happens in my life that takes me away from the story. Normal things that have stopped me from finishing have been things like moving, giving birth, getting deployed, losing my mother. You know, some real life changing things have happened. As such, it has been a bit hard for me to find my "voice" as a writer.
I think that a writer's voice is what distinguishes each and every book. Some writers are so unique that you can almost recognize their writing without looking at the name on the cover. Most of you have favorites, and it's because that person has a way of weaving together words that creates a magical place for you, a place that you never want to leave. I sing the praises of my favorite voices all the time. I can actually hear the author's voice as I read their books, and it is like listening to music for me. That's why I think it's been so hard for me. See, I don't have an accent.
I grew up all over the place. I was born in Kansas, but never lived there. I lived in Oklahoma and Texas as a baby. Then we moved to Panama, as in Central America. Then to Vegas. Dallas. California, Arizona, back to Vegas, south Texas, Georgia, back to Vegas, California again, back to Vegas, Florida, Puerto Rico, Maryland, and three different places in Virginia. I am married to a man from Ohio. He sounds Canadian. My children sound like perfect little mixes of Southern twang, Texas drawl, and California surf. But me? Yeah, no accent. None. I sound a bit like a radio broadcaster, I guess. Those of you that know me may not realize that though. I'm more of a chameleon with my voice. I can do accents, but I don't really have one. So when I'm writing, I don't hear the lyrical notes of the South, or the brassiness of the South Bronx, or the dropped "r's" of the Northeast, or the long "o's" of the North. I feel like it shows in my writing. And I don't know how I can make the words more me.
I'd like to sound like a cross between Annie Savoy and Delta Burke, with a little Kathleen Turner thrown in for good measure. When I think about it, I want people to read my words and hear huskiness and sultriness and breathlessness. At heart, I think I'm really from South Carolina, or maybe Memphis. If I could pick, I know I'd be Southern. My mom was Southern. My Grams still is. My kids sound like it. My husband is convinced that in a few years he will be (he's got it in his head that when he turns 37, he'll have officially spent more time in Virginia than Ohio, so then he will be SOUTHERN. He refuses to believe me when I tell him it doesn't work like that!). I watched Bull Durham enough to memorize every inflection in Annie's repertoire. I can do the whole "despite my rejection... I am...monogamous" thing and be spot-on, really!
I'm just not sure that wanting to be Southern, wanting to sound Southern, being raised by a Southern momma with Southern rules, eating Southern food, having all of my good memories - every single one of those happy-firefly-warm-breeze-through-the-pecan-tree-at-twilight memories- take place in a Southern place... well, I just don't think that makes me Southern. And dernitalltoheck, I wanna be Southern! I wanna sound like Scarlett when she's standing out on the side of that hill, turnip in hand, making declarations to the air. I want to sound like my friend Kim, who can make even a curse sound like poetry rolling off her Tennessee lips.
But really, I just want to be able to describe things, like the sun, as it's waving a silent goodbye to me, sinking slowly into the horizon, leaving behind a trail of lava and fire and roses across the sky, bathing the meadow outside my window in beauty. I see this sight every day. I make sure that I'm sitting here in my chair at sunset every evening, just so I can see that daily last hurrah of the sun. I arranged my desk next to a window, just for this daily reminder of beauty, to be able to witness this amazing ritual, this breathtaking miracle. It stops my heart every single time. It brings tears to my eyes. I can hear the angels singing in my ear, telling of the promise of another spectacular display, same time tomorrow.
If I could find a way to describe this in a way that other people would also be able to envision this sight, then I know I would have found my very own voice. But until then, I guess all I have to say is...
"Hey, look... the sunset. Ain't it purdy?"
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Go!! Write!! WIN!!
I'm channeling my inner cheerleader in an attempt to get you over to the Book Review Blog today.
We have unveiled our December contest, and it is Spectacular!!
Click here to check out the "old" book review site
OR
Click here to check out the "new" book review site.
Both sites currently have all of the same reviews on them. However, after 1 January 2007, we will no longer be double posting. Only the "new" site will have NEW reviews. We will leave up the old site with a "Redirect" post, but no new reviews will be posted there.
Anyhow, you can comment on EITHER site, or send us an e-mail at deeanddeedish@sbcglobal.net to enter the contest. The prize, of course, is some amazingly fabulous books. I won't give you any more details. You're just going to have to head over there to find out all of the details.
Well, what are you waiting for? Get on over there now!!
We have unveiled our December contest, and it is Spectacular!!
Click here to check out the "old" book review site
OR
Click here to check out the "new" book review site.
Both sites currently have all of the same reviews on them. However, after 1 January 2007, we will no longer be double posting. Only the "new" site will have NEW reviews. We will leave up the old site with a "Redirect" post, but no new reviews will be posted there.
Anyhow, you can comment on EITHER site, or send us an e-mail at deeanddeedish@sbcglobal.net to enter the contest. The prize, of course, is some amazingly fabulous books. I won't give you any more details. You're just going to have to head over there to find out all of the details.
Well, what are you waiting for? Get on over there now!!
Saturday, December 09, 2006
So, you all want to know what I've been doing, huh?
Yeah, I get that from your e-mails. No, I haven't fallen into a NaNo induced coma. No, I didn't follow my phone doen the toilet into the septic tank. And No, I really didn't break all ten of my digits skydiving off my back deck. I've just been...busy. Ok, not really, but that's my story, and I'm... yeah, that's lame, isn't it?
Truth be told, I've had my head buried in one book after another since November 30th. I have not even picked up my laptop to see if those people I walked away from are still standing on the beach waiting for me to come back and fill in the ending. I don't know what to do with them. Geez, that's not true either. I know exactly what to do with them, I just haven't had the energy to do it. Well, maybe I've had the energy, just not the motivation. Ok, ok, I've just been nervous.
There. I said it. Are you happy now? I'm scared witless to finish my story. I know what's going to happen, and I think it's the exact right thing. But here's the deal... when it's done, it's done, you know? I mean, yeah, I'll have to go back and do some editing (ok, a LOT of editing). And if I actually manage to pitch it and there is some interest, I'll probably have a ton of rewrites to do. But still, basically, once I head back up there and finish it, then it's finished. And I just don't know if I'm ready for it to be over just yet.
As much as I struggled during November, as much as I stressed overmaking my word count, and worried over those unexpected turns it was taking, I just really like this story. No, scratch that. I'm being honest here. I totally love this story. I mean, I really, really got into this story, these people are so real to me, I am so intimate with their lives, their motivations, their hearts, that I'm afraid to end it. Sounds dumb, doesn't it?
I told Robin and McB all about it at lunch. Well, I didn't tell them about not wanting to finish the story. I hadn't even admitted that to myself yet. But I did tell them about the story. I told them the basic outline, and even some of the twisty-turns that it had taken. I dropped a few small bombs, and then the big one. I even told them how it would end. They seemed to like the idea. Mind you, they haven't read it, and I have no idea if my writing can actually keep up with the plot, but still, just knowing that they liked the idea of it was enough to make me feel good, really really good.
Yeah, I'll finish it. I'm giving myself until the end of this month. Then I'm shelving it until I finish the Beach Story. Then I'll go back and do some edits. There are a couple of plot points that I need to strengthen, and one major thing that I want to change. I know what that is, but I'm not sure how to change it yet. It will work itself out in my head by February, I'm pretty sure.
For Life Updates, here you go: Kids are growing like weeds in June. Shane took me out for our Anniversary on Thursday night. He bought me a new coat (it is B e a utiful!). We went out to HappyEndings and he had to drink car bombs because the Browns were getting their butts kicked and the owner of the club was a Steelers fan. Charity called me and I actually got to talk to her instead of just e-mail her. It was the perfect night.
More later. The kids are, at this exact moment, yelling at me to get off the computer so we can go get a Christmas tree.
I LOVE my life.
Truth be told, I've had my head buried in one book after another since November 30th. I have not even picked up my laptop to see if those people I walked away from are still standing on the beach waiting for me to come back and fill in the ending. I don't know what to do with them. Geez, that's not true either. I know exactly what to do with them, I just haven't had the energy to do it. Well, maybe I've had the energy, just not the motivation. Ok, ok, I've just been nervous.
There. I said it. Are you happy now? I'm scared witless to finish my story. I know what's going to happen, and I think it's the exact right thing. But here's the deal... when it's done, it's done, you know? I mean, yeah, I'll have to go back and do some editing (ok, a LOT of editing). And if I actually manage to pitch it and there is some interest, I'll probably have a ton of rewrites to do. But still, basically, once I head back up there and finish it, then it's finished. And I just don't know if I'm ready for it to be over just yet.
As much as I struggled during November, as much as I stressed overmaking my word count, and worried over those unexpected turns it was taking, I just really like this story. No, scratch that. I'm being honest here. I totally love this story. I mean, I really, really got into this story, these people are so real to me, I am so intimate with their lives, their motivations, their hearts, that I'm afraid to end it. Sounds dumb, doesn't it?
I told Robin and McB all about it at lunch. Well, I didn't tell them about not wanting to finish the story. I hadn't even admitted that to myself yet. But I did tell them about the story. I told them the basic outline, and even some of the twisty-turns that it had taken. I dropped a few small bombs, and then the big one. I even told them how it would end. They seemed to like the idea. Mind you, they haven't read it, and I have no idea if my writing can actually keep up with the plot, but still, just knowing that they liked the idea of it was enough to make me feel good, really really good.
Yeah, I'll finish it. I'm giving myself until the end of this month. Then I'm shelving it until I finish the Beach Story. Then I'll go back and do some edits. There are a couple of plot points that I need to strengthen, and one major thing that I want to change. I know what that is, but I'm not sure how to change it yet. It will work itself out in my head by February, I'm pretty sure.
For Life Updates, here you go: Kids are growing like weeds in June. Shane took me out for our Anniversary on Thursday night. He bought me a new coat (it is B e a utiful!). We went out to HappyEndings and he had to drink car bombs because the Browns were getting their butts kicked and the owner of the club was a Steelers fan. Charity called me and I actually got to talk to her instead of just e-mail her. It was the perfect night.
More later. The kids are, at this exact moment, yelling at me to get off the computer so we can go get a Christmas tree.
I LOVE my life.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
"It's over!" she sang joyously!!
can't...type...any...more...wrists...hurt...
will blog next week and tell you all about it.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Updates
I have been such a blogging slacker this month. Thank you all for being patient with me while I toil through NaNo. Unlike some people (like ScopeDope), I am NOT done with my story yet. Here's what happened:
Shane went out of town to El Paso on business.
That's it. Nothing more. He went out of town. he was gone for a week. A whole darn week. And I just lost it, as usual.
Oh, I wrote while he was gone. Like the good little writer intent on finishing NaNo that I am, I managed to do my daily word count the whole time he was gone. For the most part. Of course, when I recently read what I'd written, it was one of those huge "WTF???" moments that I sometimes have.
It was bad. No, it was beyond bad. It was utter and total crap. How do I know this? Well, there were people in my story that had no business being there. I have no idea where they came from. I don't know who they are, or how they made their way into my story. It makes no sense. Plus, these people had totally hijacked my plot. I mean, they literally took it away from the location. They were almost in another freakin state! Seriously, they left the cozy little town that I had envisioned and traipsed down the highway to the beach, and stood there on the sand telling me this was where they wanted to be. HAH!
So now I'm stuck with over 20,000 words that I don't even remember writing, a plot that in no way resembles what I originally envisioned, and characters that I don't really know. I have no idea whether I should hit the delete button a few thousand times or keep writing. I'm wondering if I should just finish it up the way it is and do some major editing in December. See, I'm not sure if I have time to do a total re-write. And I'm thinking that kinda goes against the whole point of NaNo. So I'm heavily leaning towards getting my butt back upstairs in front of my laptop and just burying my head until I reach at least 50,000. It's not really that far off, but I'm just not sure where to go with this story.
One thing is for certain... if Penny expects me to pitch this crap in Jersey, she's lost her mind. I can't wait til December is over and I get back to my other story. At least those women don't fight me and take off for the beach when I least expect it. Well, now that's wrong, I guess. Because if I remember correctly, that's exactly what they were doing when I put them to bed on October 31st. Hmmm, maybe my stories are bleeding together. Or maybe the beach will be for me what Chicago was for SEP.
And did I mention that I read some fabulous books this week, in between trying to figure out where my NaNo story was heading? Well, I did. And I reviewed a few of them over on the book blog. And I've got even more to review next week, after NaNo is officially over.
Wish me luck, I'm headed back upstairs now.
And no, Sheryl, the book isn't done.
Yet.
Shane went out of town to El Paso on business.
That's it. Nothing more. He went out of town. he was gone for a week. A whole darn week. And I just lost it, as usual.
Oh, I wrote while he was gone. Like the good little writer intent on finishing NaNo that I am, I managed to do my daily word count the whole time he was gone. For the most part. Of course, when I recently read what I'd written, it was one of those huge "WTF???" moments that I sometimes have.
It was bad. No, it was beyond bad. It was utter and total crap. How do I know this? Well, there were people in my story that had no business being there. I have no idea where they came from. I don't know who they are, or how they made their way into my story. It makes no sense. Plus, these people had totally hijacked my plot. I mean, they literally took it away from the location. They were almost in another freakin state! Seriously, they left the cozy little town that I had envisioned and traipsed down the highway to the beach, and stood there on the sand telling me this was where they wanted to be. HAH!
So now I'm stuck with over 20,000 words that I don't even remember writing, a plot that in no way resembles what I originally envisioned, and characters that I don't really know. I have no idea whether I should hit the delete button a few thousand times or keep writing. I'm wondering if I should just finish it up the way it is and do some major editing in December. See, I'm not sure if I have time to do a total re-write. And I'm thinking that kinda goes against the whole point of NaNo. So I'm heavily leaning towards getting my butt back upstairs in front of my laptop and just burying my head until I reach at least 50,000. It's not really that far off, but I'm just not sure where to go with this story.
One thing is for certain... if Penny expects me to pitch this crap in Jersey, she's lost her mind. I can't wait til December is over and I get back to my other story. At least those women don't fight me and take off for the beach when I least expect it. Well, now that's wrong, I guess. Because if I remember correctly, that's exactly what they were doing when I put them to bed on October 31st. Hmmm, maybe my stories are bleeding together. Or maybe the beach will be for me what Chicago was for SEP.
And did I mention that I read some fabulous books this week, in between trying to figure out where my NaNo story was heading? Well, I did. And I reviewed a few of them over on the book blog. And I've got even more to review next week, after NaNo is officially over.
Wish me luck, I'm headed back upstairs now.
And no, Sheryl, the book isn't done.
Yet.
Friday, November 17, 2006
My blogroll is Snark-less
Short post.
Straight to the point.
I love Anne Stuart.
I want friends like Jenny Crusie.
That's all I have to say about that.
Straight to the point.
I love Anne Stuart.
I want friends like Jenny Crusie.
That's all I have to say about that.
Monday, November 13, 2006
NoMoNaNo
Awww, just kidding. I'm still going. Just like that silly little pink bunny. Still going. And going. And going.
NaNo is going surprisingly well. Which is good, because everything else is not going as well. Of course, that's to be expected. Why? Well, take a guess. Did you guess that Shane is out of town again? Yeah, you get the gold star.
My darling husband left on Sunday for a week in El Paso, Texas. He's out there on business. And he might try to take a large flashlight out to that river near there and see if he can catch anyone trying to swim across. He actually told me on the phone today that he wanted to head into Mexico to get some souvenirs for the kids. I practically screamed (ok, I DID scream) in his ear that he was NOT TO GO ANYWHERE NEAR THE BORDER. If you are familiar with what happens when my husband goes out of town on his own, then you know why. If you're not, then I will say only that his first business trip, to Las Vegas, ended in a car crash on a deserted road near the Grand Canyon, a broken axel on a rented SUV, a hospital quarantine, and a spinal tap. Then there was last year's hunting trip, where he almost fell off the side of a mountain pretending to be Spider-Man, and almost got eaten by a bear. This year's hunting trip left him with near pneumonia after riding down the Rockies on an ATV in a blizzard. Needless to say, the thought of him going into a foreign country without his birth certificate or a passport filled me with anxiety. Add that to the fact that my man has very little knowledge of the language (brilliant, yes, but honestly, the man spent TWO years in Spanish 1, ok?), and I was terrified that they might not let him come back. Thankfully, he agreed not to head south of the border, so we'll all get our made-in-Mexico trinkets at bought-in-America prices.
Also, I'm back at work. Yeah, I know, I said I wouldn't do it. But then again, you all know what a sucker I am. I couldn't help it. I did put my foot down and tell them that I can't close anymore, so I'll be home by 9ish from now on. AND I'm only going to work 3 days a week, instead of the 5 that I'd been working. I have to tell you, it was HARD to go back in there and do that all again. My feet ached, my legs hurt, and my wrists are still cracking from carrying those trays. However, I continue to meet very nice guests, and often I get to talk about books, or my writing. Plus, honestly, the jewels of conversation that I overhear are just wonderful. I have a huge file of "Things I heard at the restaurant", and some of them have already found their way into my NaNo story.
I missed the VRW meeting on Saturday, and I didn't make it down to Chesapeake to see Jenny and Bob for their conference. Both of those things really bummed me. On the bright side, taking time off from writing today has helped me catch up over on the book blog a bit. Big hugs to Charity for keeping that thing afloat. Please head over there and enter our Veterans and Rookies contest. Since this isn't the book blog, I'll tell you that one of the books that has recently been reviewed will be in the prize pack. And we're having a real live author judge the contest. And I'm adding at least 3 other books to the pack, inlcuding another recent review, and gods in Alabama. Joshilyn Jackson is doing a booksigning next week, and I'll have a winner by then, so I'm going to get her autograph in gIA and have it sent right to the winner.
Anyhow, it's sorta late, and I have a date with a book upstairs... in bed. Yeah, still chucklin' over that fortune cookie thing. It's funnyhow you get those warm fuzzy memories out of nowhere. I was out with the Youth Group last week, having dinner after a Baptist Youth Fellowship meeting. We were at a Chinese buffet. When the bill came with that plate of cookies (no, not those kind of cookies, geez people I was out with kids!) my sweet-as-pie Gret grabbed for them, ripped one open, read it lightning fast, then started laughing. She passed it to her friends and they all giggled. It took me about 10 seconds to remember that I'd taught her the little trick, so I hustled off to her end of the table to read... "Your life holds many fun adventures" and I just groaned. I didn't even need to ask why she laughed.
Here's to you, New Jersey friends...
...in bed!
NaNo is going surprisingly well. Which is good, because everything else is not going as well. Of course, that's to be expected. Why? Well, take a guess. Did you guess that Shane is out of town again? Yeah, you get the gold star.
My darling husband left on Sunday for a week in El Paso, Texas. He's out there on business. And he might try to take a large flashlight out to that river near there and see if he can catch anyone trying to swim across. He actually told me on the phone today that he wanted to head into Mexico to get some souvenirs for the kids. I practically screamed (ok, I DID scream) in his ear that he was NOT TO GO ANYWHERE NEAR THE BORDER. If you are familiar with what happens when my husband goes out of town on his own, then you know why. If you're not, then I will say only that his first business trip, to Las Vegas, ended in a car crash on a deserted road near the Grand Canyon, a broken axel on a rented SUV, a hospital quarantine, and a spinal tap. Then there was last year's hunting trip, where he almost fell off the side of a mountain pretending to be Spider-Man, and almost got eaten by a bear. This year's hunting trip left him with near pneumonia after riding down the Rockies on an ATV in a blizzard. Needless to say, the thought of him going into a foreign country without his birth certificate or a passport filled me with anxiety. Add that to the fact that my man has very little knowledge of the language (brilliant, yes, but honestly, the man spent TWO years in Spanish 1, ok?), and I was terrified that they might not let him come back. Thankfully, he agreed not to head south of the border, so we'll all get our made-in-Mexico trinkets at bought-in-America prices.
Also, I'm back at work. Yeah, I know, I said I wouldn't do it. But then again, you all know what a sucker I am. I couldn't help it. I did put my foot down and tell them that I can't close anymore, so I'll be home by 9ish from now on. AND I'm only going to work 3 days a week, instead of the 5 that I'd been working. I have to tell you, it was HARD to go back in there and do that all again. My feet ached, my legs hurt, and my wrists are still cracking from carrying those trays. However, I continue to meet very nice guests, and often I get to talk about books, or my writing. Plus, honestly, the jewels of conversation that I overhear are just wonderful. I have a huge file of "Things I heard at the restaurant", and some of them have already found their way into my NaNo story.
I missed the VRW meeting on Saturday, and I didn't make it down to Chesapeake to see Jenny and Bob for their conference. Both of those things really bummed me. On the bright side, taking time off from writing today has helped me catch up over on the book blog a bit. Big hugs to Charity for keeping that thing afloat. Please head over there and enter our Veterans and Rookies contest. Since this isn't the book blog, I'll tell you that one of the books that has recently been reviewed will be in the prize pack. And we're having a real live author judge the contest. And I'm adding at least 3 other books to the pack, inlcuding another recent review, and gods in Alabama. Joshilyn Jackson is doing a booksigning next week, and I'll have a winner by then, so I'm going to get her autograph in gIA and have it sent right to the winner.
Anyhow, it's sorta late, and I have a date with a book upstairs... in bed. Yeah, still chucklin' over that fortune cookie thing. It's funnyhow you get those warm fuzzy memories out of nowhere. I was out with the Youth Group last week, having dinner after a Baptist Youth Fellowship meeting. We were at a Chinese buffet. When the bill came with that plate of cookies (no, not those kind of cookies, geez people I was out with kids!) my sweet-as-pie Gret grabbed for them, ripped one open, read it lightning fast, then started laughing. She passed it to her friends and they all giggled. It took me about 10 seconds to remember that I'd taught her the little trick, so I hustled off to her end of the table to read... "Your life holds many fun adventures" and I just groaned. I didn't even need to ask why she laughed.
Here's to you, New Jersey friends...
...in bed!
Friday, November 03, 2006
NaNo again
Thanks for your comments, your e-mails, and yes, even your e-cards. Your support has been a blessing.
Gret moved the coffee pot upstairs to my room on Wednesday, so i didn't have to come downstairs for refills. Then she kept the kids quiet for a while, so I could write in blessed peace. Amazingly enough, I wrote an entire scene in less than two hours. When I reached the end of the scene, I had 1779 words. That was just amazing to me!
Yesterday, I read instead of writing. I don't know what exactly was wrong with me, but I couldn't write. Actually, it was because the story was going through some major stuff in my head, and I just needed to chill while it clicked.
See, I had this awesome idea, and a basic outline, last month. Then, Tuesday night, I couldn't sleep. I knew NaNo was starting, and I was excited and nervous for it, but something was really bothering me. I had a new person in my head, and she was really insisting that her story be told. I struggled with it most of the night. I mean, I already had a really good idea, and I'd actually done an outline. I couldn't just change all of that a few hours before the start, could I?
If you're a writer, you know what I mean. Sometimes you struggle to come up with the words and ideas, and sometimes they fight to be loosed from your head. Well, taking a huge leap, I decided to go with my new idea. All of that work, research and planning would keep. The other was a really good idea, and I knew I'd use it, but right now, I need to go with this one.
Thank the Lord I followed my instincts!
I wrote most of the morning. Now, at Day 3, I'm further along than I thought I'd be, and it feels pretty good, especially considering I didn't put down a single word yesterday.
I know how Penny feels, and it's both exhilerating and exhausting. Now I'm heading out with the kids, and I'll be out most of the day. When I get back tonight, I'm going to help Cherry Red with e-bay stuff for the next MicheleFund auction. Then I'll sleep.
Honestly though, I can't wait until tomorrow, when I have more time to work on my story!
Gret moved the coffee pot upstairs to my room on Wednesday, so i didn't have to come downstairs for refills. Then she kept the kids quiet for a while, so I could write in blessed peace. Amazingly enough, I wrote an entire scene in less than two hours. When I reached the end of the scene, I had 1779 words. That was just amazing to me!
Yesterday, I read instead of writing. I don't know what exactly was wrong with me, but I couldn't write. Actually, it was because the story was going through some major stuff in my head, and I just needed to chill while it clicked.
See, I had this awesome idea, and a basic outline, last month. Then, Tuesday night, I couldn't sleep. I knew NaNo was starting, and I was excited and nervous for it, but something was really bothering me. I had a new person in my head, and she was really insisting that her story be told. I struggled with it most of the night. I mean, I already had a really good idea, and I'd actually done an outline. I couldn't just change all of that a few hours before the start, could I?
If you're a writer, you know what I mean. Sometimes you struggle to come up with the words and ideas, and sometimes they fight to be loosed from your head. Well, taking a huge leap, I decided to go with my new idea. All of that work, research and planning would keep. The other was a really good idea, and I knew I'd use it, but right now, I need to go with this one.
Thank the Lord I followed my instincts!
I wrote most of the morning. Now, at Day 3, I'm further along than I thought I'd be, and it feels pretty good, especially considering I didn't put down a single word yesterday.
I know how Penny feels, and it's both exhilerating and exhausting. Now I'm heading out with the kids, and I'll be out most of the day. When I get back tonight, I'm going to help Cherry Red with e-bay stuff for the next MicheleFund auction. Then I'll sleep.
Honestly though, I can't wait until tomorrow, when I have more time to work on my story!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
AhNoBlogMo (UPDATED)
at least until November is over!
November is finally here, and with it comes NaNoWriMo. This is my first ever NaNo challenge, and I want to make it to the end! With your support, encouragement, and understanding, I'm sure that will happen.
Basically, NaNo is the National Novel Writers Month challenge. The idea is to write a novel in a month. In order to "win", you must write 50,000 words between November 1 and November 30. You can't work on something that you're already doing, you have to start a whole new story.
Sound easy? Sound impossible? Well, I happen to know that it's neither. But it WILL give me a reason, a motivation, to just write. I know of a few people that have actually sold their NaNo challenges as novels. Lani Diane Rich has sold two of hers. While Lani is obviously FABULOUS, and I luvluvluv her writing, I've met her. She's a real person. She doesn't have a halo or wings, and, other than her incredible hugs, she's a pretty regular SuperStar person. I say SuperStar because that's what 'real writers' are to me. "Real" meaning, in this case, someone who actually gets their stories finished, unlike, oh, say, ME. So my thought is that if a person that I've met (although she IS a SuperStar) can do this NaNo thing, then I have a shot at it too. Sounds reasonable, right?
The goal is 50,000 words in a month, which breaks down to almost 1700 words a day. 1700 words towards my story. Are you getting where I'm going with this? Yeah, if you're thinking "1700 words for the story means not that many words for the blog," then you're right where I am. I won't be blogging very much, if at all. I will try to post a weekly word count, but other than that, I doubt I'll be on here much through the month. See, I really really want to "win" NaNo.
What can you do to help? Well, you can post comments like the typical "Book Done Yet?" You can send me e-mails with smiley faces. You can send me your love! Please, don't send me links to great books that you're reading, that will only cause jealousy. Don't tell me what a fabulous time you had with your kids, I won't be spending as much time with mine. And don't talk to me about how much sleep you got last night, because I couldn't sleep a wink. I was much to anxious/nervous/excited about NaNo.
Know that I'll be thinking about all of you, and wishing you luck if you're doing NaNo as well. I know Penny is doing it, as is Kim. I can't remember who else is, but please leave a comment if you are. I'd love to be able to cheer you on!
So, without further ado...
It's NaNo time!
UPDATE:
1Nov06 10:28am - Holy cow. Just ran word count and I'm at 1779 words right now. I can't even believe it. Of course, I'm going to keep going. Just had to take a bathroom break, get more coffee, put some food down my throat, check e-mail, and let you guys know that I actually already reached my goal today. Hooray me!!
Current NaNo count:
Basically, NaNo is the National Novel Writers Month challenge. The idea is to write a novel in a month. In order to "win", you must write 50,000 words between November 1 and November 30. You can't work on something that you're already doing, you have to start a whole new story.
Sound easy? Sound impossible? Well, I happen to know that it's neither. But it WILL give me a reason, a motivation, to just write. I know of a few people that have actually sold their NaNo challenges as novels. Lani Diane Rich has sold two of hers. While Lani is obviously FABULOUS, and I luvluvluv her writing, I've met her. She's a real person. She doesn't have a halo or wings, and, other than her incredible hugs, she's a pretty regular SuperStar person. I say SuperStar because that's what 'real writers' are to me. "Real" meaning, in this case, someone who actually gets their stories finished, unlike, oh, say, ME. So my thought is that if a person that I've met (although she IS a SuperStar) can do this NaNo thing, then I have a shot at it too. Sounds reasonable, right?
The goal is 50,000 words in a month, which breaks down to almost 1700 words a day. 1700 words towards my story. Are you getting where I'm going with this? Yeah, if you're thinking "1700 words for the story means not that many words for the blog," then you're right where I am. I won't be blogging very much, if at all. I will try to post a weekly word count, but other than that, I doubt I'll be on here much through the month. See, I really really want to "win" NaNo.
What can you do to help? Well, you can post comments like the typical "Book Done Yet?" You can send me e-mails with smiley faces. You can send me your love! Please, don't send me links to great books that you're reading, that will only cause jealousy. Don't tell me what a fabulous time you had with your kids, I won't be spending as much time with mine. And don't talk to me about how much sleep you got last night, because I couldn't sleep a wink. I was much to anxious/nervous/excited about NaNo.
Know that I'll be thinking about all of you, and wishing you luck if you're doing NaNo as well. I know Penny is doing it, as is Kim. I can't remember who else is, but please leave a comment if you are. I'd love to be able to cheer you on!
So, without further ado...
It's NaNo time!
UPDATE:
1Nov06 10:28am - Holy cow. Just ran word count and I'm at 1779 words right now. I can't even believe it. Of course, I'm going to keep going. Just had to take a bathroom break, get more coffee, put some food down my throat, check e-mail, and let you guys know that I actually already reached my goal today. Hooray me!!
Current NaNo count:
| |
1,779 / 50,000 (3.6%) |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)