I am mostly writing this to help me remember. My brain is terrible at holding onto these details.
In the spring of 2011, I was querying my completed MG fantasy, and researching and outlining a YA fantasy, as well as working on a children's fantasy. Plenty of projects, especially when one considers that I had two toddlers at the time, one with whom I was starting preschool at home, the other of whom was potty-training.
And yet ... I hated all my projects. Every time I re-read them, they seemed grimmer and more bleak. I have never been a dark writer, and I couldn't figure out why what I was writing was so gloomy (I did find out soon afterward that I was on my way to a nervous breakdown, and though I was never diagnosed officially, I'm pretty sure I also had a mild case of depression - if not that, then at least severe despondency).
So one night, I tossed aside all my projects. Put away my research books. And I decided to write something for sheer fun, without even caring if it got published or not.
I've always adored Tommy and Tuppence (Agatha Christie's creations), and any other male-and-female teams of adventurers/mystery solvers. Kate and Thomas, Cecy and James from Wrede and Stevermer's Regency fantasy series also come to mind.
I decided to write an adventure story set in the 1920s, mostly because (thanks to LM Montgomery and her Rilla of Ingleside) I've always been fascinated by WWI and especially the between-war period. It would have to be in England, of course, because anything that an Anglophile writes for fun is going to be set in Great Britain. And just for some extra amusement, I'd throw magic into the mix. I knew I wanted a gentleman-and-lady team, like Tommy and Tuppence, except I wanted the lady to be the steady, practical one, and the gentleman to be the one who worked more off his impulses and instincts. I love turning tropes on their heads.
I had a few false starts, but eventually my characters and I came to an agreement about their personalities and roles, and the story sprang to life under my fingers. I set aside the research for that YA fantasy. I put the finished MG fantasy aside to look at and revise at a later time. I forgot completely about the children's fantasy.
Most importantly, I had fun. I remembered why I loved writing. I even bought the first season of Downton Abbey (I had steadfastly resisted getting sucked in up to that point) as "background research," and was hugely amused and somewhat miffed at some of the parallels between those characters and mine.
Maia and Len and all the rest took over my writing life. And I did not resist. The story that I started just for fun, with no thought of eventual publication, eventually became the story I am planning on publishing this spring or summer, whenever I finish the last bit of polishing. It spurred me to write If This Be Magic & The Traitor and the Spy, two short stories set in the same universe but featuring different characters.
Just a few short weeks ago, I sat down to do something else entirely, and suddenly the entire plot for a prequel unrolled in my brain. I frantically scribbled down the outline and started working - again, just for fun! - on a rough draft of that. That story is now spurring me to hurry up and finish editing Maia and Len's current tale so I can work undisturbed on that one.
And just recently, I've started thinking about those three abandoned stories again, and wondering if I can give them another shot, make something less-grim of them.
The moral of this story is obvious - write for love, not for business. But I'm not recording it here as a moralistic warning to myself or anyone else. I'm writing it because it inspires me, that my best work to date sprang from writing for pure pleasure, and it helped to bring joy back into my life when I was in a very dark place. Just as the darkness in my personal life had been affecting my writing, when I started writing determined to just love it, that bled over into my personal life, and helped to bring me through that bleak tunnel.
I'm not even going to attempt sending Magic & Mayhem, Maia and Len's tale, to a traditional publisher. Everything about this story has been personal, and I think the publishing part of it should be as well. I'm going to have it professionally edited, of course! But I'm not going to risk losing some of its joy by dealing with queries, rejections, changes, frustrations, and all the rest involved in traditional publishing.
An unprofessional decision? Yeah, probably. But being unprofessional was what brought this book to life. I'm not going to change that now. I have an entire career ahead of me to be professional in. I think I can afford to indulge my whims a little right now, before that career takes off.
Maia and Len are utterly unconventional. Their creator ought to be, as well.
Showing posts with label goals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label goals. Show all posts
Monday, January 28, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
Year's End
I always enjoy reading year's-end posts from others. So I decided to put one together on the chance that others enjoy reading them, too! Without further ado, here are some of my favorite posts from this blog in 2012.
This post on rituals, from February, is still one of my favorites from the year. I like its quiet thoughtfulness.
My April post on destiny still resonates with me. I need the reminder, still, to not get bogged down in fatalistic negativity.
I wrote a tribute to Lloyd Alexander in May. It's mostly quotes from his writings, so you know it's good.
This post on why I write, done in July, is honestly probably one of my favorite things that I've ever written. Honest truth, and a reminder to myself to keep aiming high. The comments still uplift me every time I re-read them, too.
I had fun with using scrambled eggs as a metaphor for writing styles in August. Includes some highly amusing pictures of bread loaves that didn't work.
This post on being French, from September, remains one of my most popular EVER.
I wrote a tribute to my grandmother on the one-year anniversary of her death in October. My hope is that it gives comfort to others who have lost beloveds to Alzheimer's or other forms of dementia.
In December, life got heavy. So I wrote about choosing joy, light, and love.
2012 was a good year for this family. It was a year of rest and healing (emotional and spiritual), a year of preparing for some big changes coming up in 2013. Carl has been accepted to his grad school of choice, which means that we will be moving sometime in the next six months, and starting a new adventure - taking the first steps on a new path that is still mostly in shadow. Exciting and nerve-wracking all at once.
As for me, I turned thirty, started taking ice dance lessons after twelve years off the ice, began homeschooling the kids, and published my first stories.
It was a good year.
2013 promises to be even better.
This post on rituals, from February, is still one of my favorites from the year. I like its quiet thoughtfulness.
My April post on destiny still resonates with me. I need the reminder, still, to not get bogged down in fatalistic negativity.
I wrote a tribute to Lloyd Alexander in May. It's mostly quotes from his writings, so you know it's good.
This post on why I write, done in July, is honestly probably one of my favorite things that I've ever written. Honest truth, and a reminder to myself to keep aiming high. The comments still uplift me every time I re-read them, too.
I had fun with using scrambled eggs as a metaphor for writing styles in August. Includes some highly amusing pictures of bread loaves that didn't work.
This post on being French, from September, remains one of my most popular EVER.
I wrote a tribute to my grandmother on the one-year anniversary of her death in October. My hope is that it gives comfort to others who have lost beloveds to Alzheimer's or other forms of dementia.
In December, life got heavy. So I wrote about choosing joy, light, and love.
2012 was a good year for this family. It was a year of rest and healing (emotional and spiritual), a year of preparing for some big changes coming up in 2013. Carl has been accepted to his grad school of choice, which means that we will be moving sometime in the next six months, and starting a new adventure - taking the first steps on a new path that is still mostly in shadow. Exciting and nerve-wracking all at once.
As for me, I turned thirty, started taking ice dance lessons after twelve years off the ice, began homeschooling the kids, and published my first stories.
It was a good year.
2013 promises to be even better.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say. -J.R.R. Tolkien
Friday, November 16, 2012
Sometimes I Dance on Ice ...
Last week after the littles finished up their skating lessons, I had a lovely chat with one of the coaches about starting private ice dance lessons the next week. We came to a mutual agreement, and I walked out of the rink with a mixture of elation and sheer terror.
I love ice dance. It's been a passion since I was a teenager and took my first test (Dutch Waltz, in a shimmery blue dress with lace insets that I still have and wore for about half my tests, just kept changing the embellishments). From Marina Klimova & Sergei Ponomarenko to Shae-Lynn Bourne & Victor Kraatz to Tanith Belbin & Ben Agosto to Meryl Davis & Charlie White and Maia & Alex Shibutani, ice dancers have been capturing my heart and firing my imagination since the early '90s. I even took up step dancing in college for no other reason than that I adored Bourne & Kraatz's "Riverdance" routine so much!
So there's the elation. The terror?
My last ice dance lesson was in 1999. I was seventeen years old. (It was the Fiesta Tango, in case you're curious, and one of the few I did not wear the blue dress for: I wore a black-and-red crushed velvet dress that I shared with three other girls that same day - we just kept spraying Febreeze into the armpits and handing it off to the next girl as soon as we were finished. Ah, the glamorous life of figure skaters!)
I've skated off and on for fun ever since then, of course. For about a year before Joy was born I was on the ice almost once a week, just public skating, but enough to remember some of my old skills - and to recognize how much I'd lost. Even that, though, was six years ago. And the difference between 24 and 30 is huge. The last time I decided to show my littles how to do a spiral, I propped my leg up on the boards as usual to stretch - and wasn't sure I'd be able to get it back down. I could barely walk the next day.
So I'm really not sure how on earth I'm going to do this. But I'm going to try anyway. I promised myself a few years ago that I would do everything in my power to take up ice dance again by the time I turned 30. Well, here I am, and here it goes.
This is my year (and week, apparently), for fulfilling promises to myself. First I published a story, and now I'm starting up skating again!
If I miss my usual Monday post, you'll know it's because I'm in too much pain from Sunday's lesson to even type.
Wish me luck!
I love ice dance. It's been a passion since I was a teenager and took my first test (Dutch Waltz, in a shimmery blue dress with lace insets that I still have and wore for about half my tests, just kept changing the embellishments). From Marina Klimova & Sergei Ponomarenko to Shae-Lynn Bourne & Victor Kraatz to Tanith Belbin & Ben Agosto to Meryl Davis & Charlie White and Maia & Alex Shibutani, ice dancers have been capturing my heart and firing my imagination since the early '90s. I even took up step dancing in college for no other reason than that I adored Bourne & Kraatz's "Riverdance" routine so much!
Watched this live at the '98 Worlds. Still blows my mind.
So there's the elation. The terror?
My last ice dance lesson was in 1999. I was seventeen years old. (It was the Fiesta Tango, in case you're curious, and one of the few I did not wear the blue dress for: I wore a black-and-red crushed velvet dress that I shared with three other girls that same day - we just kept spraying Febreeze into the armpits and handing it off to the next girl as soon as we were finished. Ah, the glamorous life of figure skaters!)
I've skated off and on for fun ever since then, of course. For about a year before Joy was born I was on the ice almost once a week, just public skating, but enough to remember some of my old skills - and to recognize how much I'd lost. Even that, though, was six years ago. And the difference between 24 and 30 is huge. The last time I decided to show my littles how to do a spiral, I propped my leg up on the boards as usual to stretch - and wasn't sure I'd be able to get it back down. I could barely walk the next day.
So I'm really not sure how on earth I'm going to do this. But I'm going to try anyway. I promised myself a few years ago that I would do everything in my power to take up ice dance again by the time I turned 30. Well, here I am, and here it goes.
This is my year (and week, apparently), for fulfilling promises to myself. First I published a story, and now I'm starting up skating again!
If I miss my usual Monday post, you'll know it's because I'm in too much pain from Sunday's lesson to even type.
Wish me luck!
Six years ago - the last time I was able to do a spiral without pain!
Posing
On the ice with baby Joy - you can see she was tremendously impressed (HA!). I'm expecting something of that same expression when the littles watch me this Sunday!
Bonus points to anyone who recognizes the song I borrowed this post's title from.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Published!
Wednesday afternoon. Feeling frustrated with everything. Election over, but people still being completely illogical, ungracious, and unkind. Stories needing editing, but nothing moving forward with already-edited stories to encourage me to keep up with the rest. Children, as always and forever, needing me constantly, no matter how much I've already done.
Nothing earth-shattering, nothing that ought to bother me, just lots of little gnat bites adding up to ferocious annoyance.
Something snapped. I put a movie on for the kids, went into Carl's study with the door open so I could still hear them if (when) they needed me. Brought up a basic photo-editing program, and turned one of my photographs into a book cover. Went onto Smashwords and read their book on basic formatting. Went to Amazon and read their directions. Implemented their suggestions.
In the middle of all this, talked to my husband, who was also having a frustrating day. We commiserated with each other, I went back to my formatting. Movie ended, kids ended up in the study with me, playing while I worked, me trying to answer their questions and respond to their comments while still getting accomplished what I needed.
Called Carl on his way home from work. Told him he was no longer allowed to be in a bad mood. "Why?" he asked.
"Because," I said. "I am officially a published author. And that's huge."
And it is.
It may be "just" a short story; it may be "just" self-published, it may be offered "only" in ebook form right now, it may not have a "professional" cover ...
but it's mine. And it's published. And I am over the moon. I've dreamed of this moment almost my entire life, and I finally made that dream a reality.
Nothing earth-shattering, nothing that ought to bother me, just lots of little gnat bites adding up to ferocious annoyance.
Something snapped. I put a movie on for the kids, went into Carl's study with the door open so I could still hear them if (when) they needed me. Brought up a basic photo-editing program, and turned one of my photographs into a book cover. Went onto Smashwords and read their book on basic formatting. Went to Amazon and read their directions. Implemented their suggestions.
In the middle of all this, talked to my husband, who was also having a frustrating day. We commiserated with each other, I went back to my formatting. Movie ended, kids ended up in the study with me, playing while I worked, me trying to answer their questions and respond to their comments while still getting accomplished what I needed.
Called Carl on his way home from work. Told him he was no longer allowed to be in a bad mood. "Why?" he asked.
"Because," I said. "I am officially a published author. And that's huge."
And it is.
It may be "just" a short story; it may be "just" self-published, it may be offered "only" in ebook form right now, it may not have a "professional" cover ...
but it's mine. And it's published. And I am over the moon. I've dreamed of this moment almost my entire life, and I finally made that dream a reality.
Justice's Mask, by Louise Ayers. Available at Amazon and at Smashwords.
Apparently I should snap more often!
Huge thanks to Laura, my fantastic editor, as well as Rockinlibrarian and Amo Vitam, who gave me wonderful and enormously helpful critiques. Thank are also due to all of you, who have encouraged me and walked along this road with me. This is just the beginning!
Monday, October 22, 2012
Different Kind of Schedule
Continuing (and, I think, finishing) with my theme on scheduling over the last few weeks ...
Last week, I sat down and sketched out a basic goal list for the next six months, year, and two years. And then I handed it to my engineer-minded husband and said "Here, put this into a spreadsheet for me!"
I don't work well with vague goals. Neither do I work well with tight, narrow, put-lots-of-pressure-on goals. So this sort of thing tends to go much better for me. Carl and I were talking Friday morning about my spending/saving habits: from childhood, I've always been a saver, but only when I have specific goals. Whether it be a porcelain doll, or a Lego pirate ship, or buying the Kirsten American Girl doll for my sister as a Christmas present, or tickets to the World Figure Skating Championships for my dad and me, or a trip to teach VBS in the West Indies, or my first car, I can scrimp and pinch like mad for months to years in order to save for those goals.
Without a goal, though, I spend like mad, without even thinking about it. And if the goal is too overwhelming (like, say, "we need to save all the money we possibly can for the next five years so Carl can do seminary," without set parameters of how much that will take or how long that will last), I also tend to spend recklessly, because it's too much for me to really hold in my mind.
My life goals - and especially writing goals - tend to follow that same pattern. I got overwhelmed this summer by trying to keep to too tight and narrow a writing schedule. Five short stories and a novella to publish myself between May and September! (and here it is the middle of October, and I'm still working on them)
But just to write and work toward publication without having any kind of set goals or time frame is too vague, and it's too easy for me to start frittering away my time, just like I fritter money without a set goal for saving (wow, I am revealing all sorts of my bad habits to you guys today).
So instead, I've set specific but modest goals for a specific but large space of time. And already I'm feeling more motivated. Now when I sit down to the computer, instead of wondering dispiritedly what's the point in working on anything, and do I feel like editing or starting something new?, I can check out my goal list for the next six months and find hey, if I want to meet this goal, I need to do this, and those other things I've been wondering about, well, I don't need to fret about them until closer to the one-year mark. First things first!
Plus I get to feel more business-like about my approach to writing this way, and that, I think, is a good thing. It doesn't kill the creativity, just focuses it!
How do you keep yourself on track?
Last week, I sat down and sketched out a basic goal list for the next six months, year, and two years. And then I handed it to my engineer-minded husband and said "Here, put this into a spreadsheet for me!"
I don't work well with vague goals. Neither do I work well with tight, narrow, put-lots-of-pressure-on goals. So this sort of thing tends to go much better for me. Carl and I were talking Friday morning about my spending/saving habits: from childhood, I've always been a saver, but only when I have specific goals. Whether it be a porcelain doll, or a Lego pirate ship, or buying the Kirsten American Girl doll for my sister as a Christmas present, or tickets to the World Figure Skating Championships for my dad and me, or a trip to teach VBS in the West Indies, or my first car, I can scrimp and pinch like mad for months to years in order to save for those goals.
Pride and joy of my collection for many years.
Without a goal, though, I spend like mad, without even thinking about it. And if the goal is too overwhelming (like, say, "we need to save all the money we possibly can for the next five years so Carl can do seminary," without set parameters of how much that will take or how long that will last), I also tend to spend recklessly, because it's too much for me to really hold in my mind.
My life goals - and especially writing goals - tend to follow that same pattern. I got overwhelmed this summer by trying to keep to too tight and narrow a writing schedule. Five short stories and a novella to publish myself between May and September! (and here it is the middle of October, and I'm still working on them)
But just to write and work toward publication without having any kind of set goals or time frame is too vague, and it's too easy for me to start frittering away my time, just like I fritter money without a set goal for saving (wow, I am revealing all sorts of my bad habits to you guys today).
So instead, I've set specific but modest goals for a specific but large space of time. And already I'm feeling more motivated. Now when I sit down to the computer, instead of wondering dispiritedly what's the point in working on anything, and do I feel like editing or starting something new?, I can check out my goal list for the next six months and find hey, if I want to meet this goal, I need to do this, and those other things I've been wondering about, well, I don't need to fret about them until closer to the one-year mark. First things first!
Plus I get to feel more business-like about my approach to writing this way, and that, I think, is a good thing. It doesn't kill the creativity, just focuses it!
How do you keep yourself on track?
Monday, October 15, 2012
Three
As I sat at the table with Grace this morning, reminding her every 30 seconds to take another bite, helping her with her water, getting her down to go potty, and then getting her back in the chair, reminding her (again) to eat instead of play with her fingers, breaking up a fight between the sisters, encouraging her to wait until AFTER breakfast to sing, I had an epiphany.
I understand now why it is impossible for me to keep to any kind of schedule.
I have a three-year-old.
'Nuff said.
I understand now why it is impossible for me to keep to any kind of schedule.
I have a three-year-old.
'Nuff said.
What I get when I ask said three-year-old to smile. Goofball!
Totally better than the best schedule, though. Don't you agree?
I'm getting better these days about accepting that this is my season for intensive parenting, which means even school has to take second place sometimes, and writing a distant third. Sometimes I still want to rail against it (because hey, I want to have IT ALL, RIGHT NOW), but slowly, I'm coming to a point where I can not just be okay with it, but actually happy about it. Amazing!
Monday, October 8, 2012
Help! I've Fallen ...
... into a writing slump, and I can't get up!
Although that's not as entirely true as it was this weekend. This weekend I received back the first beta read on my historical fantasy adventure, and it was so encouraging. Not just because she said nice things about my main characters and overall story (although that was awesome), but because she provided me with some solid things I could work on instead of the nebulous "something about this isn't right" that had been floating around my brain for the last few months. So now I'm getting excited to get back into editing.
Aside from that, though, I have been having problems. I have very minor edits to make on the three shorts closest to being publication-ready. I am almost finished with the major edits on the novella. The two spy shorts still need work, but I don't feel guilty about putting those on the back burner until I've finished my spy research.
So I've really no reason to be in a slump. Everything is moving along - slowly, true, but still moving. I've even started working with cover designers for the three almost-ready shorts!
And yet, and yet, and yet.
To be frank, homeschooling is kicking my butt. None of this is complicated stuff (I'm doing kindergarten and preschool, for heaven's sake), and my girls are eating it up, but I find myself struggling every day to stick to a schedule, to follow the lesson plan (we were at the library on Saturday and I suddenly realized with panic that I had NO IDEA what books I was supposed to pick up for this week's school, because I'd forgotten to check the lesson plan for this week). It will get easier (my mantra!), I know. I'm hoping by November to finally have my feet under me.
And it's going well, for the most part. We're getting together with a couple other homeschooling families once a week. Joy is reading everything she can get her hands on; Grace is consistently recognizing the alphabet and getting better with phonics; both of them love numbers ("Math is my FAVORITE," Joy tells me enthusiastically, every single day); Joy will happily spend hours covering any blank surface she can find (including the walls) with pictures as she teaches herself to draw; we go through the house and point out shapes of everything; we read and talk and do basic science projects and look at famous art pieces and listen to classical music ... they are eating it up. And when I can keep myself on track, I love it, too. I just get derailed way too easily.
And when the homeschooling gets overwhelming, everything else goes by the wayside, too. Especially writing!
I am seeing glimmers of hope. Aside from the aforementioned beta-read-encouragement, I was able to get a few hours to myself this weekend just to sit and breathe and recharge - something essential to this introvert mamma who is constantly surrounded by daily clamor of two little people always, always needing her (and occasionally one larger person, when he's home from work). I picked up Grace's quilt last night and made considerable progress on that while watching Once Upon a Time and Revenge (which last is actually boring me and I'm not planning on watching anymore - why is there no Downton or Sherlock on Sundays at nine right now??), which I had been procrastinating terribly on ever since the Olympics. I even pulled out my in-progress felt leaf banner I started making last year and never finished, and made HUGE strides on that (my goal is to get it done in time to use as decorating for Joy's birthday in November). I've been able to think about my stories without flinching.
And I got up almost a full hour before my littles this very morning, which allowed me some time to read my Bible, pray, write a blog post, breathe, and think. Always a good way to start the week!
So there is light at the end of the tunnel. I'm just hoping the tunnel doesn't twist and curve TOO many more times before I get there!
How do you get yourself out of slumps - writing or otherwise? If you are a typically disorganized person, how do you force yourself to stick to a schedule (my schedule is deliberately basic and simple, and yet I STILL can't seem to follow it)? Any homeschooling parents out there with any advice for me in getting through this first year with my sanity intact?
Although that's not as entirely true as it was this weekend. This weekend I received back the first beta read on my historical fantasy adventure, and it was so encouraging. Not just because she said nice things about my main characters and overall story (although that was awesome), but because she provided me with some solid things I could work on instead of the nebulous "something about this isn't right" that had been floating around my brain for the last few months. So now I'm getting excited to get back into editing.
Aside from that, though, I have been having problems. I have very minor edits to make on the three shorts closest to being publication-ready. I am almost finished with the major edits on the novella. The two spy shorts still need work, but I don't feel guilty about putting those on the back burner until I've finished my spy research.
So I've really no reason to be in a slump. Everything is moving along - slowly, true, but still moving. I've even started working with cover designers for the three almost-ready shorts!
And yet, and yet, and yet.
To be frank, homeschooling is kicking my butt. None of this is complicated stuff (I'm doing kindergarten and preschool, for heaven's sake), and my girls are eating it up, but I find myself struggling every day to stick to a schedule, to follow the lesson plan (we were at the library on Saturday and I suddenly realized with panic that I had NO IDEA what books I was supposed to pick up for this week's school, because I'd forgotten to check the lesson plan for this week). It will get easier (my mantra!), I know. I'm hoping by November to finally have my feet under me.
And it's going well, for the most part. We're getting together with a couple other homeschooling families once a week. Joy is reading everything she can get her hands on; Grace is consistently recognizing the alphabet and getting better with phonics; both of them love numbers ("Math is my FAVORITE," Joy tells me enthusiastically, every single day); Joy will happily spend hours covering any blank surface she can find (including the walls) with pictures as she teaches herself to draw; we go through the house and point out shapes of everything; we read and talk and do basic science projects and look at famous art pieces and listen to classical music ... they are eating it up. And when I can keep myself on track, I love it, too. I just get derailed way too easily.
And when the homeschooling gets overwhelming, everything else goes by the wayside, too. Especially writing!
I am seeing glimmers of hope. Aside from the aforementioned beta-read-encouragement, I was able to get a few hours to myself this weekend just to sit and breathe and recharge - something essential to this introvert mamma who is constantly surrounded by daily clamor of two little people always, always needing her (and occasionally one larger person, when he's home from work). I picked up Grace's quilt last night and made considerable progress on that while watching Once Upon a Time and Revenge (which last is actually boring me and I'm not planning on watching anymore - why is there no Downton or Sherlock on Sundays at nine right now??), which I had been procrastinating terribly on ever since the Olympics. I even pulled out my in-progress felt leaf banner I started making last year and never finished, and made HUGE strides on that (my goal is to get it done in time to use as decorating for Joy's birthday in November). I've been able to think about my stories without flinching.
And I got up almost a full hour before my littles this very morning, which allowed me some time to read my Bible, pray, write a blog post, breathe, and think. Always a good way to start the week!
So there is light at the end of the tunnel. I'm just hoping the tunnel doesn't twist and curve TOO many more times before I get there!
How do you get yourself out of slumps - writing or otherwise? If you are a typically disorganized person, how do you force yourself to stick to a schedule (my schedule is deliberately basic and simple, and yet I STILL can't seem to follow it)? Any homeschooling parents out there with any advice for me in getting through this first year with my sanity intact?
Monday, August 6, 2012
Everyday Writing
Yesterday morning after church, Carl stayed inside chatting with friends while I kept an eye on the kids in the little playground in the courtyard. After a few moments of watching and thinking, I reached into my purse, pulled out my pen and the sheaf of papers I'd shoved in earlier ... and started scratching out the basic outline for my next novelette.
And then I had to laugh at myself. Yes, I'm a writer all right. Even with having to take a break when Grace and another girl had an disagreement on the slide (the other girl lost, but Grace was the one who came away in tears), even when I texted Carl to say Where are you, the girls are getting restless and I'm melting in the sun, even though there were people all around that I could have been talking to ... I was thinking about characters and setting and plot, and getting down as much of it as I could.
My kids already know what editing is, as well as outlining, plotting, and all the rest. They hear me talk about it, they even ask me about it now. Joy draws pictures and makes up stories about them as she draws. Grace plays with her toys by acting out stories with them. When we stopped at the drugstore to get a birthday card for their friend today, I walked out with a card, fresh pencils and colored pencils for the girls, and new post-it notes for me, since I can never find Carl's when I need to use them for story notes.
Somewhere along the line this summer, I've started treating my writing more seriously. It's always been my passion; now it's my business as well. It's becoming an essential part of our family life, just as Carl's studies did back when seminary became more than just a "someday dream" and moved into a serious "in the next few years plan." It's not taking over anything, it's just entwining into our everyday lives and activities.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
And then I had to laugh at myself. Yes, I'm a writer all right. Even with having to take a break when Grace and another girl had an disagreement on the slide (the other girl lost, but Grace was the one who came away in tears), even when I texted Carl to say Where are you, the girls are getting restless and I'm melting in the sun, even though there were people all around that I could have been talking to ... I was thinking about characters and setting and plot, and getting down as much of it as I could.
My kids already know what editing is, as well as outlining, plotting, and all the rest. They hear me talk about it, they even ask me about it now. Joy draws pictures and makes up stories about them as she draws. Grace plays with her toys by acting out stories with them. When we stopped at the drugstore to get a birthday card for their friend today, I walked out with a card, fresh pencils and colored pencils for the girls, and new post-it notes for me, since I can never find Carl's when I need to use them for story notes.
Somewhere along the line this summer, I've started treating my writing more seriously. It's always been my passion; now it's my business as well. It's becoming an essential part of our family life, just as Carl's studies did back when seminary became more than just a "someday dream" and moved into a serious "in the next few years plan." It's not taking over anything, it's just entwining into our everyday lives and activities.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The Why Behind the Word
Life has been weighing heavily on my shoulders this week. You know how it is sometimes? It seems like everywhere you turn there's more tragedy, more brokenness, more need, more heartache, and it's all so much you don't even know where to begin.
And it's not just the sad stuff. You read stories of people triumphing against the odds to rescue a street boy from an impossible life in Africa. Firefighters doing ridiculous things to save people's homes in Colorado. People advocating for those who have no voice. All over, people doing their part to bring healing to this broken world.
And this is what always gets me - the need is so big, and so widespread, and others seem to know what to do to meet at least some of the need, but I get so overwhelmed and feel so feeble. What can I offer? Where do I begin? How do I take care of what's already been entrusted to me and still have something left to give to the world?
Tuesday night, I heard that my hometown was shredded by a micro burst. Literally. Several downtown building were horrifically damaged, including the local hardware store where I worked from when I was a young teenager right up to a week before I got married. The store my dad has worked at for over 30 years. The roof was lifted completely off and flung into the river, and the sub roof couldn't hold out the rain, and the water just flooded in. At one point they weren't even sure they could salvage the building.
I was sick. Just sick, thinking about it. And Wednesday morning, when I heard about the community coming in and pulling together to help bring the store back from the brink, to the point where it could re-open for business this afternoon and start giving back to the rest of the community, it killed me that I couldn't rush right home and join in.
But Grace woke up puking that morning, and I had to take care of her. No home-rushing heroics for me. At one point during the morning I looked at the short spy story document open on my computer and put my head right down on the table and said "WHY? Why do I write? What good does this possibly do in the long run? Why am I spending my time on this earth writing instead of doing ... something?"
(And then I had to go hold the puke bucket for Grace again. Truth.)
The more I thought (and prayed) about it, though, the more certain things started to come clear. Would I even be the type of person who wants to do something if it weren't for the books I grew up reading? Would I be the Louise I am today if I hadn't grown up with Lucy and Edmund, Anne and Diana, Randy and Rush, Taran and Eilonwy, Will and Bran, and all the rest? In my "Influences" posts, the common thread is that not only did these books shape me as a writer, they shaped me as a person.
It's an odd circle - if it weren't for people doing great things, writers wouldn't be able to imagine such deeds to write about. If it weren't for writers creating great heroes and deeply compassionate characters, real people might never be inspired to do great things themselves. We need books to show us the people we want to be.
That's why I write. I write to bring hope, to inspire courage, to give comfort and encouragement. Even in real life, my role has always, since childhood, been that of an encourager. Writing is my way of spreading that beyond my circle of immediate family and friends. It doesn't excuse me from acting in real life, too (and I pray that I will always be ready, in season and out, to act where I am needed and able), but it helps to give me a purpose, to remind me that my writing is not just for escapism or amusement. Not that there's anything wrong with that, either (and certainly my spy stories are mostly sheer indulgent fun), but that can't be all. Not for me.
This all sounds kind of pompous, looking it over now. "See me, how noble my goals are for my writing!" I don't mean it that way. Rather, it makes me humble, seeing how very far I have to go before I can live up to my own hopes. And it helps to keep me grounded - when I have a day that I can't write because my poor baby is retching on the couch, I can let that go more easily, because this is the real life that the writing is supposed to help inspire me toward.
My very favorite sort of stories are those of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. And I hope that's the life I can live, and the stories I can write to encourage others along the same path.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Reader
A possible near-future conversation between Joy and a librarian or teacher.
Librarian or Teacher, looking at Joy's armful of books teetering nearly above her head: My, that's a lot of books! Are you going to read all of them?
Joy: Yes, all by myself.
L or T: Really? How old are you?
Joy: I will be five in November.
L or T: And you can already read all those books by yourself? How did you learn to read so young?
Joy: I got bored.
End scene.
This kid, she amazes me. I really did start to teach her to read simply because she was bored. Bored to the point where she was getting into trouble out of frustration. She struggled a bit at first because it didn't click immediately (and because I was an idiot and thought I could teach her with easy readers and flash cards - I'm sure that's all some people need, but I am a lousy teacher and needed a curriculum), but we persevered (all of us - Joy and I did the official school books, but Carl would sit down and patiently work with her through regular books, even letting her read the bedtime stories sometimes), and then, ever so slowly, it started to come together. She would recognize one word when she saw it, then two. Then five. Then she could put together sentences. Then she started figuring out the whole "sound it out" business.
Yesterday afternoon, I walked through the living room and paused. Joy was curled up on the couch with "Mr. Putter and Tabby Pour the Tea," which we had borrowed from the library last week and hadn't had a chance to read together yet, and she was reading it. Out loud. By herself. Sounding out the words she didn't know. Getting some of them wrong, but more of them right. Going back to re-read a sentence that she hadn't added the proper emphasis to before. Immersed in her own world.
I very nearly burst into tears.
She finished that and picked up "Sam and the Firefly," another library book, and read through that. Then she read through "Go Dog. Go!" She had to take a bathroom break partway through that one, and I sat in Carl's study and listened as she read all the books we keep in there for the littles to look at while they use the potty (leftover habit from the days they were potty-training).
I quite honestly had a lump in my throat the rest of the evening. Reading has shaped my life, my very nature, for as long as I can remember. It has been one of the deepest desires of my heart that my children share the same passion and love for the written word as I have. Seeing this love take root in Joy is one of the most rewarding moments in parenthood I've had thus far.
She's reading. My kid is reading.
It still blows my mind.
Now I just have to keep from going absolutely crazy on Amazon and buying every easy reader I can find. I just want to shower her with ALL THE BOOKS IN THE WORLD, but that's what libraries are for, and I don't want to deprive her of one of my other deep-set joys, which is finding those amazing books at the library, and the thrill of bringing them home to read.
I have a reader. A real live reader. Somebody pinch me!
By the way, the scene up top would never really happen. Joy hates talking to strange adults. I can't really blame her; I'm not crazy about it either.
Librarian or Teacher, looking at Joy's armful of books teetering nearly above her head: My, that's a lot of books! Are you going to read all of them?
Joy: Yes, all by myself.
L or T: Really? How old are you?
Joy: I will be five in November.
L or T: And you can already read all those books by yourself? How did you learn to read so young?
Joy: I got bored.
End scene.
This kid, she amazes me. I really did start to teach her to read simply because she was bored. Bored to the point where she was getting into trouble out of frustration. She struggled a bit at first because it didn't click immediately (and because I was an idiot and thought I could teach her with easy readers and flash cards - I'm sure that's all some people need, but I am a lousy teacher and needed a curriculum), but we persevered (all of us - Joy and I did the official school books, but Carl would sit down and patiently work with her through regular books, even letting her read the bedtime stories sometimes), and then, ever so slowly, it started to come together. She would recognize one word when she saw it, then two. Then five. Then she could put together sentences. Then she started figuring out the whole "sound it out" business.
Yesterday afternoon, I walked through the living room and paused. Joy was curled up on the couch with "Mr. Putter and Tabby Pour the Tea," which we had borrowed from the library last week and hadn't had a chance to read together yet, and she was reading it. Out loud. By herself. Sounding out the words she didn't know. Getting some of them wrong, but more of them right. Going back to re-read a sentence that she hadn't added the proper emphasis to before. Immersed in her own world.
I very nearly burst into tears.
She finished that and picked up "Sam and the Firefly," another library book, and read through that. Then she read through "Go Dog. Go!" She had to take a bathroom break partway through that one, and I sat in Carl's study and listened as she read all the books we keep in there for the littles to look at while they use the potty (leftover habit from the days they were potty-training).
I quite honestly had a lump in my throat the rest of the evening. Reading has shaped my life, my very nature, for as long as I can remember. It has been one of the deepest desires of my heart that my children share the same passion and love for the written word as I have. Seeing this love take root in Joy is one of the most rewarding moments in parenthood I've had thus far.
She's reading. My kid is reading.
It still blows my mind.
Now I just have to keep from going absolutely crazy on Amazon and buying every easy reader I can find. I just want to shower her with ALL THE BOOKS IN THE WORLD, but that's what libraries are for, and I don't want to deprive her of one of my other deep-set joys, which is finding those amazing books at the library, and the thrill of bringing them home to read.
Taken first thing this morning after she came downstairs. Please ignore the mound of clean laundry next to her. It was a long weekend.
I have a reader. A real live reader. Somebody pinch me!
By the way, the scene up top would never really happen. Joy hates talking to strange adults. I can't really blame her; I'm not crazy about it either.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Friends and Food
Yesterday evening, Carl and the girls and I were able to impromptu meet up with old friends for dinner. They live in California, and somehow whenever they come up this way our schedules never coincide enough for us to get together. Ethan was best man at our wedding (I threatened to make him be maid of honor if my sister couldn't make it home in time; told Carl I had prior claim since Ethan and I had been friends since we were eleven, and he and Carl had only been friends since they were eighteen); we watched his Californian wedding over live video feed when Grace was a newborn; I totally monopolized his wife Elizabeth last summer at a wedding reception up north; and when I heard they were going to be driving from Vermont to Lake Placid yesterday, I jumped at the chance to really get caught up.
We had the nicest time. Lots of talking, laughing, going through buckets of the complimentary bread (we left a hefty tip), sharing where we've been, where we are now, where we're still dreaming about going. That's one of the wonderful things about like-minded friends - even if you aren't going in the same direction, you can still strengthen each other's dreams with encouragement and hope. Carl told about his seminary plans; Ethan and Elizabeth talked about the partnership they're dreaming of forging together into a movie production company; I shared some of the tricky waters I've been navigating with the indie publishing world and trying to get any of my projects actually completed to the point where I can actually attempt publishing them. All different worlds, but all of us aiming high and trying to balance reality with dreams.
Plus Ethan and I got to talk a little about possible collaborations in the future - me writing scripts or screenplays for films he's producing. With dialogue being my strong point and my skills of description being so weak, that might be just the ticket for me! And as I'm finding with the picture book collaboration I've been working on with another friend, if one has the right sort of mindset, one really can blend work and friendship without too many problems.
It can get easy to feel alone, for both Carl and I. He has the quintessential "good American" job right now, and can't wait for the day when he can leave it behind to pursue seminary, and teaching, and possibly even moving across the world if that's where we're called. I am the stay-at-home-mom to our two kids, trying to homeschool and keep the household running smoothly, and every second of the day my fingers itch to leave behind these dishes and laundry and kindergarden math books and just write. We're oddballs in suburban America, and it's good for us to talk with like-minded friends and remember that we really aren't that weird or alone (or super special, as sometimes our ego inflates at how "different" we are - o hubris!), and that it is possible to pursue a life that colors outside the lines.
So, here's hoping that you, my friends, get a chance to have that same encouragement this week! And if that encouragement include dinner at an Italian bistro with excellent complimentary bread and a very patient wait staff, well, all the more power to you.
We had the nicest time. Lots of talking, laughing, going through buckets of the complimentary bread (we left a hefty tip), sharing where we've been, where we are now, where we're still dreaming about going. That's one of the wonderful things about like-minded friends - even if you aren't going in the same direction, you can still strengthen each other's dreams with encouragement and hope. Carl told about his seminary plans; Ethan and Elizabeth talked about the partnership they're dreaming of forging together into a movie production company; I shared some of the tricky waters I've been navigating with the indie publishing world and trying to get any of my projects actually completed to the point where I can actually attempt publishing them. All different worlds, but all of us aiming high and trying to balance reality with dreams.
Plus Ethan and I got to talk a little about possible collaborations in the future - me writing scripts or screenplays for films he's producing. With dialogue being my strong point and my skills of description being so weak, that might be just the ticket for me! And as I'm finding with the picture book collaboration I've been working on with another friend, if one has the right sort of mindset, one really can blend work and friendship without too many problems.
It can get easy to feel alone, for both Carl and I. He has the quintessential "good American" job right now, and can't wait for the day when he can leave it behind to pursue seminary, and teaching, and possibly even moving across the world if that's where we're called. I am the stay-at-home-mom to our two kids, trying to homeschool and keep the household running smoothly, and every second of the day my fingers itch to leave behind these dishes and laundry and kindergarden math books and just write. We're oddballs in suburban America, and it's good for us to talk with like-minded friends and remember that we really aren't that weird or alone (or super special, as sometimes our ego inflates at how "different" we are - o hubris!), and that it is possible to pursue a life that colors outside the lines.
So, here's hoping that you, my friends, get a chance to have that same encouragement this week! And if that encouragement include dinner at an Italian bistro with excellent complimentary bread and a very patient wait staff, well, all the more power to you.
Monday, April 9, 2012
A Bird's-Eye Look at Editing
Easter is over, the eggs are hunted, the family has gone back to their respective houses, the fridge is chock full of ham and sundries, the coffee/tea stash is seriously depleted, and it's time to start thinking about editing again.
I have adopted a methodical practice for editing this particular MS. First, I printed out the rough draft, and went through it with a pencil, marking specific changes as well as leaving just general comments like "awkward phrasing; fix it," or "this whole passage sucks; change it," or if I was feeling kindly toward myself "insert more about specific reasons here."
Next stage is the one I'm in now, putting the suggested changes into the document.
The next stage is the one I'm dreading, and the reason I read Line by Line: copy-editing. This is the mind-numbing part where I go through and look critically at each line, pulling it apart to see if it is as concise (in case you haven't gathered as much from my blog posts, I'm a rambly writer), understandable, and lovely as possible.
Then will come one final look-through, and then I will send it out to my beta readers. Assuming I have beta readers at that point, that is. Anyone want to volunteer for that? I'm always happy to read others' work in exchange. (and yes, I know it's not considered etiquette to beg for betas in this way. What can I say, I've been looking for a critique group for over a year now with no luck, and I'm desperate. Also, my tongue is rather in my cheek, though that doesn't mean I'd refuse if anyone offered to become a critique partner with me!)
After the betas tear it apart and send it back and I stop sobbing into my pillow over all their suggested improvements, I'll go through it again, fixing the problems they saw in it. Then I send it back to them, and then we decide if it's good to go out for submission, or if it needs yet more work.
It's a fairly exhaustive (and exhausting) process, and it's more intensive than I've ever attempted with any of my other finished MSS. However, of those, one was never meant for publication, but was simply finished as "my first finished novel;" one is languishing in a closed file; and one I've ended up tearing apart, breaking down, and starting it again from scratch. So I'm thinking that a more severe editing process might, in fact, be helpful for me. And after reading on Shannon Hale's blog that some of her works go through nine drafts, I really don't feel this is too over-the-top.
I'm planning on this taking a long time. I'd been feeling an almost panicked need to get this MS done, to get it out there as quickly as possible so that by the time Carl was ready to go back to school I could maybe, possibly, be helping the family finances. However, by working so hard and feeling so rushed, I was losing a lot of the joy that characterized the first writing of this story in the first place, and more importantly, was finding it harder and harder to enjoy being with my family, because every moment spent with them was a moment I wasn't writing.
Um, bad priorities.
So I've accepted that for right now, my role is not to assist in bringing in any extra money when Carl is in school, at least not through my writing. Depending on his schedule, I can always go back to retail - after eight years before my marriage, I'm pretty comfortable there - once he's in school, and help out that way. Right now, I'm going to slow down the frenetic pace I'd been applying to the writing, enjoy it, enjoy my family, enjoy life as it is right now, and take as long as I need to in order to make this story as close to perfect as I can, while still savoring being mumsie to my two little chickadees.
What does your editing process look like?
I have adopted a methodical practice for editing this particular MS. First, I printed out the rough draft, and went through it with a pencil, marking specific changes as well as leaving just general comments like "awkward phrasing; fix it," or "this whole passage sucks; change it," or if I was feeling kindly toward myself "insert more about specific reasons here."
Next stage is the one I'm in now, putting the suggested changes into the document.
The next stage is the one I'm dreading, and the reason I read Line by Line: copy-editing. This is the mind-numbing part where I go through and look critically at each line, pulling it apart to see if it is as concise (in case you haven't gathered as much from my blog posts, I'm a rambly writer), understandable, and lovely as possible.
Then will come one final look-through, and then I will send it out to my beta readers. Assuming I have beta readers at that point, that is. Anyone want to volunteer for that? I'm always happy to read others' work in exchange. (and yes, I know it's not considered etiquette to beg for betas in this way. What can I say, I've been looking for a critique group for over a year now with no luck, and I'm desperate. Also, my tongue is rather in my cheek, though that doesn't mean I'd refuse if anyone offered to become a critique partner with me!)
After the betas tear it apart and send it back and I stop sobbing into my pillow over all their suggested improvements, I'll go through it again, fixing the problems they saw in it. Then I send it back to them, and then we decide if it's good to go out for submission, or if it needs yet more work.
It's a fairly exhaustive (and exhausting) process, and it's more intensive than I've ever attempted with any of my other finished MSS. However, of those, one was never meant for publication, but was simply finished as "my first finished novel;" one is languishing in a closed file; and one I've ended up tearing apart, breaking down, and starting it again from scratch. So I'm thinking that a more severe editing process might, in fact, be helpful for me. And after reading on Shannon Hale's blog that some of her works go through nine drafts, I really don't feel this is too over-the-top.
I'm planning on this taking a long time. I'd been feeling an almost panicked need to get this MS done, to get it out there as quickly as possible so that by the time Carl was ready to go back to school I could maybe, possibly, be helping the family finances. However, by working so hard and feeling so rushed, I was losing a lot of the joy that characterized the first writing of this story in the first place, and more importantly, was finding it harder and harder to enjoy being with my family, because every moment spent with them was a moment I wasn't writing.
Um, bad priorities.
So I've accepted that for right now, my role is not to assist in bringing in any extra money when Carl is in school, at least not through my writing. Depending on his schedule, I can always go back to retail - after eight years before my marriage, I'm pretty comfortable there - once he's in school, and help out that way. Right now, I'm going to slow down the frenetic pace I'd been applying to the writing, enjoy it, enjoy my family, enjoy life as it is right now, and take as long as I need to in order to make this story as close to perfect as I can, while still savoring being mumsie to my two little chickadees.
What does your editing process look like?
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Our First Garden
Growing up, both Carl and I moaned and whined about helping out in our family's respective vegetable gardens (especially picking beans, O Woe and Misery!). So naturally, in the last few years, we've been wanting to inflict - I mean, introduce our girls to what it's like to grow at least a portion of one's food. We weren't able to do it when we were living at our old place, due to having no space at all to ourselves outdoors, but here in this house, we have loads of yard, front and back. Poor soil quality, though, so we're doing container gardens instead of planting right in the ground.
I was all for buying seedling already started, but Carl pulled for starting right from seeds, and in thinking about how much more the girls will learn when they get to see the entire process from start to finish (in the grand old homeschool tradition, we are calling this "science class" and we'll be studying about growing things right along with watching our seeds), I capitulated.
We planted the seeds in our little black plastic starter containers on Sunday, and we have been working ever since at keeping the littles from pulling off the lid to poke and prod, checking to see if their seeds have come up yet. We planted peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, peas, carrots, marigolds, lavender, and impatiens (lavender for Grace, who wanted "pupple fwowers," and impatiens for Joy who wanted pink flowers, and marigolds to help ward off mosquitoes), and we are all, even Carl, getting excited about watching them grow, seeing which crops work the best, and enjoying the fruit of our labors this summer.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Lessons
WARNING: This post has nothing to do with writing. It is, in fact, mostly bragging on my kid. Because along with being a writer, I'm a MOM, and occasional bragging on my kid goes with the territory.
These two pictures were taken the first time Joy was on the ice. She made either me or my sister carry her the ENTIRE time. Granted, she was a tiny three-year-old at the time, but still, we were SORE the next morning. She has loved watching ice skating with me ever since she was a little baby, but the reality of stepping on the ice scared her to death.
This was her third time on the ice. She didn't even want to hold my hand by then! She also insisted I show her how to bunny hop. No fear at all, and even the few times she fell, she laughed.
photo by lis hurlbut
First time on single-bladed skates, showing her sister how it's done.
And THIS is from her first day of Snowplow Sam (that's the lowest level of skating classes from the United States Figure Skating Association, by the way) in January.
And THIS is last Sunday, when she brought home a certificate stating that she'd passed all of Snowplow Sam, and is ready to start Basic 1 in the fall!
Not bad, for a little over a year. Her first-ever skating show is this Sunday, and my parents, Carl's mom, my sister and brother-in-law, and possibly Carl's sister are all coming out to watch and cheer her on. It's not just about the skating, it's about finding something she loves, overcoming her fears about it, and excelling at it.
Hmm, maybe there really IS something in here applicable to writing after all ...
Hey, have you entered the giveaway yet? If not, go, enter! What are you waiting for?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Creeping Toward Christmas
Three more days to finish my November writing goals! Three more days before we start our Advent activities! Three more days before I finally get to start listening to Christmas music!
Only three days left in November ... how did that happen?
Growing up, my family never had Christmas traditions centered around any special days - we sometimes had an Advent calendar, but not always. Some years we got our tree early in the month, some years not until Christmas Eve. We did have traditions around Christmas Eve - Lis and me shopping with Dad, going to Grandma and Grandpa's church for the special service, opening one gift each before going to bed, and listening to the rustling of tissue paper downstairs as Mom wrapped all our stocking gifts.
When Carl and I got married, we decided we wanted to implement a few more (flexible) traditions, such as always decorating on the first weekend in December. We aren't always able to pull it off (such as when we move right before Thanksgiving and don't even know where all our Christmas decorations are!), but we get our tree and start the decorating as close to that weekend as possible. This year, I'm starting Advent activities with the girls - we're getting little envelopes that I can put notes in with each day's activity - and some days, instead of an activity, there will be little candies in the envelope. If the girls enjoy it as much as I think I am going to, we'll probably try to make this another tradition.
First, though, I am going to push myself hard to get those last 5,000 words done on my 1920s ms before December 1st. I would be so pleased if I could accomplish at least one of my November goals!
Do you have special holiday traditions? Did they pass down from your families, or are they ones that you started after forming your own family? Did you accomplish (if you had any) your November writing goals?
Only three days left in November ... how did that happen?
Growing up, my family never had Christmas traditions centered around any special days - we sometimes had an Advent calendar, but not always. Some years we got our tree early in the month, some years not until Christmas Eve. We did have traditions around Christmas Eve - Lis and me shopping with Dad, going to Grandma and Grandpa's church for the special service, opening one gift each before going to bed, and listening to the rustling of tissue paper downstairs as Mom wrapped all our stocking gifts.
When Carl and I got married, we decided we wanted to implement a few more (flexible) traditions, such as always decorating on the first weekend in December. We aren't always able to pull it off (such as when we move right before Thanksgiving and don't even know where all our Christmas decorations are!), but we get our tree and start the decorating as close to that weekend as possible. This year, I'm starting Advent activities with the girls - we're getting little envelopes that I can put notes in with each day's activity - and some days, instead of an activity, there will be little candies in the envelope. If the girls enjoy it as much as I think I am going to, we'll probably try to make this another tradition.
First, though, I am going to push myself hard to get those last 5,000 words done on my 1920s ms before December 1st. I would be so pleased if I could accomplish at least one of my November goals!
Do you have special holiday traditions? Did they pass down from your families, or are they ones that you started after forming your own family? Did you accomplish (if you had any) your November writing goals?
Monday, November 21, 2011
Book Snippets
I did not start on my Shakespeare reading this week. I was going to - I had borrowed The Taming of the Shrew from the library, and sat down at the computer to skim over the summary first (my preferred way of reading Shakespeare, since otherwise I lose much appreciation for the language in trying to decipher the plot and keep all the character straight).
And considering that in my reading of the summary I decided that Petruchio was an abusive jerk that Kate should have poisoned at their wedding feast, I figured I wasn't exactly in the best mindset to read Shakespeare this week. Maybe I should start with Hamlet?
We have been plagued with mice all week long; Carl finally brought home new traps Saturday evening and we caught six - SIX - in a four-hour period. Have not seen any since, though I am planning on using a combination of peppermint oil and mothballs to keep them out until we've had a chance to talk to our landlords and find out if they want to bring in a professional to seal every crack and cranny.
So the mice might have soured my appreciation for the Bard. I certainly was not in any mood to read any Redwall books, either.
I did, however, read The Queen of Attolia, which prompted me to re-read my recently purchased copy of The Thief, because it had been a while since I read it and some of the details were a bit fuzzy. In case you are one of the few people on the planet who (like me) hasn't read this fantastic series by Megan Whalen Turner, go to your library now and start borrowing them. They are incredibly good. So good that, even though I need to be packing today for going up to my parents' for Thanksgiving, I'm still planning on making a library run to get the next two books in the series. I really, really wish I could read in the car without getting sick!
I also recently finished the Song of the Lioness quartet - I've been friends with Kel and Aly for a few years now, and recently with Beka Cooper, but I'd never been able to find all the Alanna books until we'd moved and gone to a new library. I was bitterly disappointed in the ending of the fourth book (villains NEED more motivation than just, hey, let's destroy the world for kicks, even though it's going to destroy me too), but at least it gave me enough background to read the Immortals series. Alanna will never replace Kel as my favorite Tamora Pierce heroine, though.
My writing goals are still out of reach. I have two - TWO - chapters left in my 1920s fantasy-adventure, and do you think I've been able to write them? No, because I've been scrubbing my floors and counters every other day to get rid of mouse droppings! By the time Carl's home from work and the littles are in bed, I've been able to do little more than collapse in bed or on the couch and either read YA fantasy, or watch my newly-purchased first season of Star Trek: Voyager. (Chakotay is STILL my favorite character out of the entire Star Trek canon, although Worf is a close second. Picard is right on Worf's heels as third. What can I say? I really, really like nobility, goodness, and conflict within oneself in my heroes.)
However, I am tentatively hopeful that maybe this evening, after my packing is finished, or perhaps while we're at home, in between cooking and cleaning and practicing makeup techniques with my sister, I might be able to squeeze out those 5,000 words.
Because wow, November has flown by. Can you believe it's almost December? I am starting a new tradition for our family this year - 25 days of Advent activities (or candy, on those days when my inspiration ran out) leading up to Christmas.
Christmas, my friends! It's just a little over a month away!
Are you a fan of any or all the Star Trek shows? Do you have a favorite character? What good books have you been reading lately? Can anyone tell me if I missed something crucial at the end of Lioness Rampant explaining the villain's actions and goals a little more clearly? Am I reading too much into The Taming of the Shrew? Do you have exciting plans for Thanksgiving?
And considering that in my reading of the summary I decided that Petruchio was an abusive jerk that Kate should have poisoned at their wedding feast, I figured I wasn't exactly in the best mindset to read Shakespeare this week. Maybe I should start with Hamlet?
We have been plagued with mice all week long; Carl finally brought home new traps Saturday evening and we caught six - SIX - in a four-hour period. Have not seen any since, though I am planning on using a combination of peppermint oil and mothballs to keep them out until we've had a chance to talk to our landlords and find out if they want to bring in a professional to seal every crack and cranny.
So the mice might have soured my appreciation for the Bard. I certainly was not in any mood to read any Redwall books, either.
I did, however, read The Queen of Attolia, which prompted me to re-read my recently purchased copy of The Thief, because it had been a while since I read it and some of the details were a bit fuzzy. In case you are one of the few people on the planet who (like me) hasn't read this fantastic series by Megan Whalen Turner, go to your library now and start borrowing them. They are incredibly good. So good that, even though I need to be packing today for going up to my parents' for Thanksgiving, I'm still planning on making a library run to get the next two books in the series. I really, really wish I could read in the car without getting sick!
I also recently finished the Song of the Lioness quartet - I've been friends with Kel and Aly for a few years now, and recently with Beka Cooper, but I'd never been able to find all the Alanna books until we'd moved and gone to a new library. I was bitterly disappointed in the ending of the fourth book (villains NEED more motivation than just, hey, let's destroy the world for kicks, even though it's going to destroy me too), but at least it gave me enough background to read the Immortals series. Alanna will never replace Kel as my favorite Tamora Pierce heroine, though.
My writing goals are still out of reach. I have two - TWO - chapters left in my 1920s fantasy-adventure, and do you think I've been able to write them? No, because I've been scrubbing my floors and counters every other day to get rid of mouse droppings! By the time Carl's home from work and the littles are in bed, I've been able to do little more than collapse in bed or on the couch and either read YA fantasy, or watch my newly-purchased first season of Star Trek: Voyager. (Chakotay is STILL my favorite character out of the entire Star Trek canon, although Worf is a close second. Picard is right on Worf's heels as third. What can I say? I really, really like nobility, goodness, and conflict within oneself in my heroes.)
However, I am tentatively hopeful that maybe this evening, after my packing is finished, or perhaps while we're at home, in between cooking and cleaning and practicing makeup techniques with my sister, I might be able to squeeze out those 5,000 words.
Because wow, November has flown by. Can you believe it's almost December? I am starting a new tradition for our family this year - 25 days of Advent activities (or candy, on those days when my inspiration ran out) leading up to Christmas.
Christmas, my friends! It's just a little over a month away!
Are you a fan of any or all the Star Trek shows? Do you have a favorite character? What good books have you been reading lately? Can anyone tell me if I missed something crucial at the end of Lioness Rampant explaining the villain's actions and goals a little more clearly? Am I reading too much into The Taming of the Shrew? Do you have exciting plans for Thanksgiving?
Monday, November 14, 2011
Insanity With a Side of Peace
Our weekend company has gone home, my house has been semi-restored to order, the only reminder of my tick bite is a tiny red dot on my back and a lingering fear of going back outside, and life is getting somewhat back to normal.
Of course, Carl is working (probably) long hours all week, making me effectively a temporary single parent, and then he's (maybe) flying out to Chicago for one day at the end of the week. And then we start getting ready for Thanksgiving. WHERE DID NOVEMBER GO???
So normal is just crazy. I think I'm starting to accept that. I love a peaceful, slow life, but that sort of life doesn't seem to love me, however hard I pursue it. And with Carl planning on going to graduate school, and then working for his PhD, and me turning toward indie publishing with at least one, if not more, books, and two little ones we intend to homeschool and also encourage to find their passion and chase it ...
Yeah. I don't think a slow life is in the books for us any time soon.
And that's okay. God knows what each of us need the most. Truth be told? If I had that slow, peaceful life, I would probably slump into laziness and slothfulness. I'm not the most driven person in the world.
The trick, for me, is finding moments of peace in the midst of the chaos. Sometimes when Joy is getting nervous and worked up, we send her to her room, not for a time-out, but just to have a bit of time alone to calm down. I need that, too. I want to find a way to be a peaceful person, even if my life is insane. And one way for me to accomplish that is snatching at moments when I can rest and restore myself.
And yes, that includes writing, because as much as it is my career choice, writing is also one of those things that restores my soul, so to speak. So, like Connie suggested on my last post, I am going to work, even this week of insanity, at finding those five to fifteen minutes of writing, each day.
It might be impossible, as I posited in that last post, to find balance, but that doesn't mean I need to stop trying.
(I apologize for all my recent posts running on a theme. Can you tell what's been on my mind lately? I'll try to think of something more original for my next post. Maybe I'll have had a chance to start reading The Taming of the Shrew and will be able to give thoughts on Shakespeare. It's a goal, at least!)
Of course, Carl is working (probably) long hours all week, making me effectively a temporary single parent, and then he's (maybe) flying out to Chicago for one day at the end of the week. And then we start getting ready for Thanksgiving. WHERE DID NOVEMBER GO???
So normal is just crazy. I think I'm starting to accept that. I love a peaceful, slow life, but that sort of life doesn't seem to love me, however hard I pursue it. And with Carl planning on going to graduate school, and then working for his PhD, and me turning toward indie publishing with at least one, if not more, books, and two little ones we intend to homeschool and also encourage to find their passion and chase it ...
Yeah. I don't think a slow life is in the books for us any time soon.
And that's okay. God knows what each of us need the most. Truth be told? If I had that slow, peaceful life, I would probably slump into laziness and slothfulness. I'm not the most driven person in the world.
The trick, for me, is finding moments of peace in the midst of the chaos. Sometimes when Joy is getting nervous and worked up, we send her to her room, not for a time-out, but just to have a bit of time alone to calm down. I need that, too. I want to find a way to be a peaceful person, even if my life is insane. And one way for me to accomplish that is snatching at moments when I can rest and restore myself.
And yes, that includes writing, because as much as it is my career choice, writing is also one of those things that restores my soul, so to speak. So, like Connie suggested on my last post, I am going to work, even this week of insanity, at finding those five to fifteen minutes of writing, each day.
It might be impossible, as I posited in that last post, to find balance, but that doesn't mean I need to stop trying.
(I apologize for all my recent posts running on a theme. Can you tell what's been on my mind lately? I'll try to think of something more original for my next post. Maybe I'll have had a chance to start reading The Taming of the Shrew and will be able to give thoughts on Shakespeare. It's a goal, at least!)
Before-bed craziness from a couple of weeks ago. I suspect we'll all start looking like this all the time by the end of this week.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
No Balance
Outside, the air is full of mist. A few stubborn leaves float through the air, the ground is carpeted still with reds and golds and browns. The sun is just starting to burn through the silvery sky.
It's a beautiful morning.
And all I can think, as I look out my window, tea mug in hand, is,
"How many other tiny BRINGERS OF DEATH are lurking out there?"
Monday, the littles and I spent much of the day playing outside (I even brought their small table and chairs out so Joy could do school outside). We jumped in leaf piles, chased each other around, and altogether had a glorious time.
Then yesterday, as those of you who read my Twitter account know, I felt an odd bump on my back where I couldn't see very well, asked Carl to take a look at it, and the next thing I knew, he was grabbing for the tweezers and ordering me to hold still so he could get the tick out.
Thank God for my husband's steady hands.
As soon as it was out (intact, thankfully), I slid to my knees, and thence to the floor, passing out quite neatly with my forehead pressed to the linoleum. Haven't done that since I had a few issues with anemia as a teenager.
However, the point of this post is not, despite all appearances, to gross you out with my tick horror story (though you have to admit, it's a pretty good story). No, this is all just a prelude.
The result of passing out was a massive, unshakeable headache for the rest of the day, the kind that makes it impossible to get anything accomplished. I did manage to make cookies with the littles, as an apology for not taking them outside again (NO WAY were we setting foot in the death trap known as OUR BACKYARD). And in the evening, after the littles were in bed, I did get a few more rosebuds sewn on the blanket I'm making for Joy's new baby doll. And ... that's about it.
As a result, I'm behind in writing, in cooking, in cleaning, in laundry ... you name it, I'm behind. Missing one unplanned day due to a headache makes for more massive headaches trying to scramble to catch up for the rest of the week. Some weeks might not be a big deal, but Carl's mom and sister are coming out this weekend to celebrate birthdays (Joy's and Grandma's), which means at the very least, I need food in the house for them to eat, and to get the piles of clean laundry out of the guest room and clean sheets on the bed. Sweeping the floors and cleaning the toilet might be a nice touch, too.
Which means that, again, writing gets pushed to the back burner.
It's not that writing isn't important to me, or that Carl doesn't think it worth spending my time on. It's just that there are so many other things that have to get done. My family has to eat. We have to have clean clothes. The littles have to take top priority. Joy has to do school (well, ok, it was our choice to do homeschooling instead of public school, and my choice to do preschool with her, but those were both important decisions to us that have to be followed through with now).
I can't just ignore all of those in favor for writing, as much as I'd like to with some of them. And the other projects, the sewing and quilting stuff ... well, those aren't necessary, which is why they also often get pushed to the back burner, but they do help to satisfy my creative needs, and I get pretty cranky when those are left unsatisfied.
I'm not really asking for advice here - I know that most other people have the same problems trying to balance everything. I'm mostly just trying to keep it real here. A few people have mentioned how impressive they think it is that I manage to "do it all."
I don't. The plain truth? In order to do one thing, something else doesn't get done. Just the way it is. About the only two things I can do at the same time are make bread and wash laundry, because there's enough pauses between both to balance it out. Everything else? Every day I have to pick and choose which is most important. And, sadly, most days, writing is squeezed into the cracks or left out entirely. Not because it's not important, but because things like eating food are things we literally can't live without, therefore food has to be made.
And all this with a supportive husband who helps out around the house without even being asked (as I found this morning when I saw that he had emptied the dishwasher last night without me even asking - thanks, babe)! I can't imagine trying to do this without him.
I don't have anything catchy to end this with, any pithy sentence to sum it up or words of wisdom. Just a heartfelt hope that someday, maybe, things will get easier to balance.
And an even more heartfelt hope that we get snow soon and bury all those ticks six feet under.
(Hey, I found my pithy ending sentence after all!)
It's a beautiful morning.
And all I can think, as I look out my window, tea mug in hand, is,
"How many other tiny BRINGERS OF DEATH are lurking out there?"
Monday, the littles and I spent much of the day playing outside (I even brought their small table and chairs out so Joy could do school outside). We jumped in leaf piles, chased each other around, and altogether had a glorious time.
Then yesterday, as those of you who read my Twitter account know, I felt an odd bump on my back where I couldn't see very well, asked Carl to take a look at it, and the next thing I knew, he was grabbing for the tweezers and ordering me to hold still so he could get the tick out.
Thank God for my husband's steady hands.
As soon as it was out (intact, thankfully), I slid to my knees, and thence to the floor, passing out quite neatly with my forehead pressed to the linoleum. Haven't done that since I had a few issues with anemia as a teenager.
However, the point of this post is not, despite all appearances, to gross you out with my tick horror story (though you have to admit, it's a pretty good story). No, this is all just a prelude.
The result of passing out was a massive, unshakeable headache for the rest of the day, the kind that makes it impossible to get anything accomplished. I did manage to make cookies with the littles, as an apology for not taking them outside again (NO WAY were we setting foot in the death trap known as OUR BACKYARD). And in the evening, after the littles were in bed, I did get a few more rosebuds sewn on the blanket I'm making for Joy's new baby doll. And ... that's about it.
As a result, I'm behind in writing, in cooking, in cleaning, in laundry ... you name it, I'm behind. Missing one unplanned day due to a headache makes for more massive headaches trying to scramble to catch up for the rest of the week. Some weeks might not be a big deal, but Carl's mom and sister are coming out this weekend to celebrate birthdays (Joy's and Grandma's), which means at the very least, I need food in the house for them to eat, and to get the piles of clean laundry out of the guest room and clean sheets on the bed. Sweeping the floors and cleaning the toilet might be a nice touch, too.
Which means that, again, writing gets pushed to the back burner.
It's not that writing isn't important to me, or that Carl doesn't think it worth spending my time on. It's just that there are so many other things that have to get done. My family has to eat. We have to have clean clothes. The littles have to take top priority. Joy has to do school (well, ok, it was our choice to do homeschooling instead of public school, and my choice to do preschool with her, but those were both important decisions to us that have to be followed through with now).
I can't just ignore all of those in favor for writing, as much as I'd like to with some of them. And the other projects, the sewing and quilting stuff ... well, those aren't necessary, which is why they also often get pushed to the back burner, but they do help to satisfy my creative needs, and I get pretty cranky when those are left unsatisfied.
I'm not really asking for advice here - I know that most other people have the same problems trying to balance everything. I'm mostly just trying to keep it real here. A few people have mentioned how impressive they think it is that I manage to "do it all."
I don't. The plain truth? In order to do one thing, something else doesn't get done. Just the way it is. About the only two things I can do at the same time are make bread and wash laundry, because there's enough pauses between both to balance it out. Everything else? Every day I have to pick and choose which is most important. And, sadly, most days, writing is squeezed into the cracks or left out entirely. Not because it's not important, but because things like eating food are things we literally can't live without, therefore food has to be made.
And all this with a supportive husband who helps out around the house without even being asked (as I found this morning when I saw that he had emptied the dishwasher last night without me even asking - thanks, babe)! I can't imagine trying to do this without him.
I don't have anything catchy to end this with, any pithy sentence to sum it up or words of wisdom. Just a heartfelt hope that someday, maybe, things will get easier to balance.
And an even more heartfelt hope that we get snow soon and bury all those ticks six feet under.
(Hey, I found my pithy ending sentence after all!)
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Ring Out the Old, Ring In the New
So ... in case any of you missed it, it's the new year. 2010 went out in our house with a game of Scrabble, 2011 is entering with colds and tea.
Last January, my writing goals for 2010 were to finish The Eldest Sister and find an agent/publisher for both Frozen Dreams (inspirational romance) and The Magic Garden (children's fantasy adventure).
I finished The Eldest Sister, did a complete re-write of Frozen Dreams to make it more appealing to agents (changed it from first person to limited third), and kind of pushed The Magic Garden to the back burner after getting numerous rejections.
This year, for 2011, I still want to find an agent/publisher for the finished MSS (now up to three!), and I have a brand-new project to complete. The Renaissance and Maya research, as fun as it is, is taking a long time, so my goal for Starsong is to finish the research and get at least the first draft written this year. Of course, I would really like to have the MS completely ready to send out into the world by 2012, but considering how short I fell in all my goals last year, I'm trying to aim a bit more realistically. After all, I do have a husband and two small children, as well as the distinct possibility that I will be packing up my household and moving across the country this year. One must be realistic in life, however fantastic one gets in one's writing!
In the meantime, I am spending this weekend trying to get myself and my family healthy again, and hope to get back to research and queries this week!
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, and that 2011 proves to be the year where your goals and dreams are realized.
Last January, my writing goals for 2010 were to finish The Eldest Sister and find an agent/publisher for both Frozen Dreams (inspirational romance) and The Magic Garden (children's fantasy adventure).
I finished The Eldest Sister, did a complete re-write of Frozen Dreams to make it more appealing to agents (changed it from first person to limited third), and kind of pushed The Magic Garden to the back burner after getting numerous rejections.
This year, for 2011, I still want to find an agent/publisher for the finished MSS (now up to three!), and I have a brand-new project to complete. The Renaissance and Maya research, as fun as it is, is taking a long time, so my goal for Starsong is to finish the research and get at least the first draft written this year. Of course, I would really like to have the MS completely ready to send out into the world by 2012, but considering how short I fell in all my goals last year, I'm trying to aim a bit more realistically. After all, I do have a husband and two small children, as well as the distinct possibility that I will be packing up my household and moving across the country this year. One must be realistic in life, however fantastic one gets in one's writing!
In the meantime, I am spending this weekend trying to get myself and my family healthy again, and hope to get back to research and queries this week!
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, and that 2011 proves to be the year where your goals and dreams are realized.
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