June 7/0 words
School did not kill me off, although it tried very, very hard. It still has time, though, since I return to finish cleaning on Tuesday. Bleh.
Needless to say, there's been no time to write. Too busy. So, of course, I've felt like I've wanted to. Stories and characters have churned in my head at odd moments. I wanted to write the novel.
WRITE THE NOVEL.
Look at those words. How long has it been?
It's mostly related to adding in my ships, so I may very well rewrite the opening chapter to fix that this week. I really want one right in the very beginning. Period. And then I'll return to the middle where they'll reappear again.
I realize wanting to work on the novel is an abnormal state. I will attempt to take advantage of it tomorrow. Today is all about resurrecting a laptop.
The Slug's laptop has died, and we're in no place to buy her the Mac she desires. Gifting her with mine is a stopgap measure. I've transferred every file I need to keep to the portable hard drive. I've deleted programs she will never need or use. I've updated Norton, run the spyware to make certain its clean, and will defrag it. Shortly. After I buy some more memory, because apparently this laptop only has 128MB RAM. (2003, the good old days.) Everything I've done has been at the speed of snail. So yeah, gotta flash the BIOS and get memory sticks.
And then mail it to her so she gets it before next Monday when she leaves for the wilderness which apparently has internet connectivity. Must be run by squirrels.
Because of the contacts from my old school, I'm now back in contact with one of my aides in the afternoon. It's been like old home week around here, catching up on the news from everyone. My friend's niece, who was about 4 when I moved, now has teenagers of her own. Turn your head for a second and the world moves on behind your back.
I did have the cutest conversations with a student that last week.
Child: Mrs. Sisolak, I'm going to be a teacher, and I'm going to teach in this classroom!
Me: Really! Tell you what, then, I'll retire. I'll stay home and bake cookies, and then I'll bring some cookies to your kids.
Child: *big grin*
The next day:
Child: Mrs. Sisolak, I'm not going to be able to teach next year after all. I'm going to have to wait until I'm in second grade.
Damn! No retirement for me then. And somehow I don't think I'm going to make it another twenty years for him. If I somehow managed to do that, I'd be using a walker and shaking my cane at those kinders.
June 10/0 words
Vacation! And because it is, I've already done some writing this morning on the novel. Only 200 words, but I'm excited because I rewrote the opening to include my sandships.
I reread the opening two scenes, and amazingly enough, I like them. I'd keep reading if I were me.
*hugs novel to herself and croons to it*
It's a good thing I feel like this now, because later today, it's going to be all about dealing with the next section so I can send it off to the Posse for crits. With any luck, there will be more sandships. Or maybe it's just sneaking Kalim into the caravan and getting him accepted. Whatever. And I can tell you, there won't be any novel hugging for that bit. At all.
No, it's going to be rending of garments, weeping, and tearing of hair.
You'd just have to be there.
Yesterday was cleaning the classroom, which is donedonedone. The days before were all about my laptop and getting it in shape to send off to the Slug. I only had 128 MB RAM in that thing, so the wailing was phenomenal. Then the additional memory I ordered arrived. Five minutes and 1024MB later, I have a relatively zippy computer (seeing how old it is! I bought it for Clarion in '03.) and have cleaned it to within an inch of its harddrive. Windows is completely updated, as is IE, because god knows what browser the kid's using these days. I updated all the antispyware and antivirus programs, set them to run automatically, and defragged the hard drive and registry. It's as tight and clean as I can make it. Now I just have to hope it can withstand the Slug's ability to kill things off.
The rest of the day is about cleaning this place, which is so full of dog, my nose is rebelling and giving me sneezing fits.
Later today, I meet a friend to chat about writing, which is wonderful, and later still, the middle child and fiancé arrive to deposit another load in the garage and spend the night. They're essentially homeless now that they've given up the apartment, and the child leaves for camp--his home for the summer. She'll join him, but not quite yet.
On my list of to-dos is to find a dress for myself for the wedding. I'm not thrilled about the concept, because I am not particularly a shopper. I wear jeans daily, which makes me happy. Dressing up? On occasion. Which is what this will be. Bleh.
The girls are in shades of green, so I've got to find a color that will make me happy, blend with them, and not be actually green itself.
Online is my first approach. Then, we'll see.
And now, off to conquer the day. Go me!
June 15/200 words
Writing has shifted into a prominent position this week. Why?
It's the Clarion West Write-a-thon, and my goal is 12K on the novel (which is, in itself, a trifle problematical, but I've decided to follow the Michael Swanwick apparently unspoken rule of writing: Make Shit Up.)
(The most difficult piece of this for me, besides not having my mouse left-click working, which is only a new battery, but still, is that I don't have my computer solely to myself. It wouldn't be bad if I had my laptop, but yeah. The Slug acquired that. I am currently being fiscally responsible and not rushing out to buy an iMac. That could very well change if my patience reaches its limits.)
Howsoever, the word count goal begins on Sunday and runs through the next six weeks, and hopefully acquiring $200 in pledges for Clarion West, of which I will match $100.
Every little bit counts, so $1 and $5 donations are as welcome as larger amounts. While the money supports for Clarion West, I must admit it's better for me to know I have to be accountable to people. Guilt pushes me along quite nicely. I blame that on the nuns of my early childhood.
And in that spirit of accountability, I'll be posting freshly-written novel snippets several times a week, in addition to sending my sponsors a short story--"Charlie's Harley," a tale of drunken frat boys (really, are there any other kind?), SETI and UFOs, and missing body parts for his/her reading pleasure. Adult rating for language and um...content. I don't discover the names of my sponsors as they donate, so posting a response in my LJ will get you that tale a bit quicker.
Don't hesitate! Sponsor me and become my very own Guilt Monkey!¹ I'll even throw in your own guilt monkey icon!
¹I figure I'll need a bunch. Whip optional. You must provide your own.
June 18/900 words
I've jumped back into the novel.
No real surprise there, I suppose, seeing what I've got planned for the next six weeks. However, retrobabble and I are using a combination of Skype and Write or Die to word race most nights. In twenty minutes, I can produce 300 words typically.
Not good words, but my gosh, that's super fast for me. Once I hunker down and continue on longer than that 20 minutes, the word count could very well increase. Where was this website when I was at Clarion?!
Both of us also noted that in that short period, we tend to focus on action. Things have to happen to our characters, because there's no time to slow down and do a thoughtful and considerate amount of description.
No. Because if you pause to think about things, the background on that page turns pink, then slowly increases to red, and I will do almost anything to keep that background color away from my eyes.
Including write, apparently. Who knew?
Now if I'd just had my family hanging in my eyesight with varying degrees of pink-to-red flags all this time, I might have done better. Ah, well. Now I've got this website, and it doesn't complain just as long as I keep typing.
In the last two days, Kalim's discovered that when his soul forgets to maintain control (as he should, because after all, who's had all the training these years?) he can take advantage of it. He's also learned that one of the ship pairs may very well be his older brother, and that map reading can be fun and productive--particularly if one is thinking ahead to an escape.
For those in the posse, check that out. In 600 words, I have action. Enough for a couple of scenes.
Seeing that my last crit session all focused on my inability to produce action, this is an excellent means of changing that up.
So yeah, I'm pretty happy. But tonight's writing will be the last for a bit--we hit the road for Monterey and the family reunion tomorrow morning. Between now and then, I'm running laundry, cleaning the house, and nailing down a house-sitter for Harley. (Yeah, big mistake on our parts not to get that kennel cough vaccination for him. We apparently thought we'd never leave him alone and that there'd always be a family member or friend available. But now that he's learned to break out of the yard by bamming his head against boards to loosen them, I'm not willing to just leave him in the yard. Live and learn.)
It's a very busy day, but there will be word count at the end of it, and that makes me very happy.
June 22/375 words
We're back from Monterey. Lessons learned this trip: Take the 101, not the 5. Way more interesting, no big rigs, and faster, at least until you hit Santa Barbara in the late afternoon. The reunion ended up being tons of fun, I got my baby fixes since we had two to play with, and all the cousins are a blast to watch.
And Mom was happy. We're calling this a huge success, and Asilomar a great location for the reunion.
And now it's back to work. I was too exhausted to write last night, so I wrote this morning instead. My monastery acquired an herb garden (who knew?!) and one of my blackmailing bad guys is up to his old tricks, but with a new victim. Poor Mareet.
Thank heavens for Write or Die. It's amazing how words just (more or less) pour out of me in less than 30 minutes.
Now if they only had a Submit or Die site... if they did, I'm sure I'd have more than one story out, like I do now.
One of my goals for today is to double that number. I have to print out my buttonhole story and send it on its way, most likely to WoTF. SH still has my clockwork tale, and while I should hear from them in the next ten minutes since I said something about it, I'm going to distract myself with the next submission. Oh, and some writing, seeing that the Clarion West Write-a-thon is now in full swing.
I wish I could be hanging out there this morning, but no. Wedding plans, flight reservations, and cleaning are also on my list. I'm the only one at home currently, the only one the dog has to fixate upon, so Harley was up at 5:45A, and no surprise, so was I.
Once the routine was re-established--I feed him, then myself, and sit at the computer with a cup of coffee--he went right back to sleep.
Damn.
In addition to the regular house stuff, I have to also plan out the redecorating for the summer. There's paint in my future, possibly some porcelain tile throughout the downstairs, and whatever else I can squeeze in. I get distracted thinking about it and start surfing for ideas. An hour goes by. Eesh.
The goal for the rest of the day is to stick to the damn list.
Oh, and write some more. Word count here I come!
June 24/1100 words
So far, I'm happy with what I've accomplished. It's by no means perfect, I have questions buzzing in my brain as to how what I've written will work overall, but for the moment, I'm going with it.
If it doesn't work out, I can toss those words away and write new ones.
Maybe this summer's writing will be all about developing confidence in my skills and acquiring word count. I haven't quite figured out why the Write or Die website works as well as it does for me--is it about the self-imposed punishment when I stop writing? Or the fact that I'm not actually writing in my Word files, but cutting and pasting them there when I've finished? Or is it the fact that the Posse have convinced me the first draft is all about throwing everything that strikes you in so you can take out what doesn't stick on the rewrite?
I do not know.
I'm not even sure I should care. It's working. And I should be damn grateful.
Because of another LJ friend (deborahb) and her discussion with yet another LJ user (rcdaniells) I've discovered a new-to-me artist: Alexia Sinclair. One of her current works--Marie Antoinette--on exhibit in Australia.
Browsing through her fine art, I was extremely interested in her imagery--particularly the chess pieces that surround Elizabeth I and the wealth of detail she uses in all of her other works. Her Marie Antoinette almost jumps off the page at me and demands to be written into my fiction.
And that holds true for many of her female characterizations, all of whom I perceive as extremely strong and passionate.
Visuals spark my inspiration. I freely admit it. And while I love music, it doesn't illuminate my creative nooks inside my brain in the same way. I can use music to set mood for myself as I write--I have a rather large playlist of caravan/desert music for the novel.
I rarely use it.
The music I listen to as I write is the hum of the refrigerator, the distant drone of lawnmowers and blowers, and Harley's snorts. If someone else is in the house, the television's on, and I've got ambient noise. The good news for me is that I can tolerate this level of racket and still write. When I began writing, the noise level was such that I wore earmuffs (professional, for say, the lawn mower) and earplugs.
I've improved markedly in my ability to tune out noise.
But the visuals? They satisfy such a thirst in me--similar to one that can quenched by only thick chocolate being poured down my throat. There's a physical reaction when I see an image that calls to me, and this is perhaps, why I enjoy finding doll images to enliven my characters. Something like this or this screams Write me! at the top of its lungs.
I don't always listen, because you know, the novel. But in my quick search for a couple of dolls to show you, I discovered two other images and one new story idea to fuel two shorts.
I blame my doll image love on my inner fabriholic and my excitement at discovering emotion and story in a single image.
June 25/775 words
The annual zucchini invasion is in full swing around here. No matter how I try to devour them (and for the last three days, it's only been me, helped along by one begging dog) I can't seem to keep up with the onslaught.
Last night I stuffed a huge one, and ate a quarter. This morning, five more pounds went into a pot of chicken broth, minced onions, garlic, some pesto to replace the bacon bits I didn't have, and assorted spices. I planned cooking a small vat.
I had to change pots. Somehow they multiplied.
There are still six humongous zucchini in the frig. It's almost gotten to the point where I hate to go out to the garden because I'll find another hiding in the leaves and snickering to itself.
Thankfully, the pole beans are rational and giving me a handful at a time. Which I can't eat, because--zucchini!
Another bout of writing, yesterday, and while I'm looking at all these words thinking about dumping half, at least, I'm making progress. If progress is counted in words and by the page.
Personally, I think these two characters are just thrashing around searching for their plot points.
They're in a garden currently. Maybe I'll give them some zucchini to eat.
It's revenge. Of a sort.
So yeah, I'm a little frustrated that the story isn't progressing as quickly as it might, but I'm trying to keep focused on producing wordage, rather than nailing the perfect description or waiting until I know exactly what has to happen next to write. It's not easy managing my perfectionist tendencies.
Maybe zucchini will cure it.
And just to note--I've already surpassed my word count goal for the week. Yet, it's only Thursday morning. Go me!
June 26/800 words
The Write-a-thon marches on, and my sinister evil sneaky plan to trick my brain into writing is successful. A combination of Skype, Write or Die, and retrobabble applied daily in small amounts is working far better that anything else I've ever done.
Mind you, that's in 20-minute bursts, too.
Yes, there is the part where I have to put my ass in the chair and begin typing, (twice a day!) but I'm not fighting myself over it. It's far more difficult to put on my tennis shoes, drag myself to the car, and from there off to my workout. Yesterday, I didn't make it to the gym until after 5P, and it wasn't because I didn't have the time.
It's vacation. All I've got currently is time. Loads of it. Like piles of dirty laundry just lying around.
We won't delve too deeply into the concept of whether I'm using it well, however, because someone would have to surgically remove Desktop Tower Defense from my bookmarks and erase all trace of it from the internets.
I didn't say I was perfect.
As I told retrobabble last night, if only there was a Clean or Die. The thought of that made me try vacuuming in a 20-minute burst, and while I didn't get finished, of course, I felt accomplished at the end of it.
Seriously. You can do anything for 20 minutes. Or two batches of 10 minutes.
Even achieve wordcount.
I'm not looking at rewriting at this point, and oh, there will be rewriting. Major pain-in-the-tushie rewrites, where I lose half the wordage and smash it into shape like the trash in my compactor.
But rewriting has never been my bugaboo--it's been getting the plot and motivations out on paper.
I find myself my characters asking questions of each other that I would really like to know the answer to myself. And it would be oh, so nice, if they would just tell me what's going on when someone asks.
But no. There's a bunch of speculation instead.
De brain. She do not work so well.
Anyway, 7P, Pacific, 20 minutes. You need Skype if you want to play with us, but not necessarily Write or Die (although the trumpet voluntaries are nice reinforcement when you hit your goal time and wordage.) Let me know if you want to come play!
June 27/275 words
The best laid plans around here head south when I get on overload. Not nearly as many words as I'd hoped for and not a clean plot line. Things are a little murky, so I'm going to focus on condensing these words into a coherent, pared mass this morning. And new words again tonight when I know where I'm going for these two characters.
It's just sloppy and that's making me a little nuts.
Got a bounce back on my clockwork story, and I managed to confuse the editor. Good thing I know which parts were confusing in his mind, and I will attempt clarification before sending it out again. The tinkering never ends, I suppose.
In dog-related news, Harley has a plastic cone about his neck and he's learning to deal with the fact that the physical space his head occupies has changed. Dramatically.
We're working on how to get through doors and past people without banging that collar into either or both. The funniest moment yesterday was when I found him barking at an outside chair, completely unable to go under it as he was used to doing. Obviously, the chair had turned EviL and prevented him from going on his way. Going around the chair never seemed to have occurred to him, and when I just moved the damn thing, he went oh, that's all right, then, and ignored it after that.
Sleep did not come easily, for either of us. (We also suffer who live with the sufferer.)
Eating is improving; I just have to get the cone around his food dish and as long as he doesn't pick up his head, it's good.
Guess how many times he picks up his head?
Yeah, it's like having an ADD 2YO.
But despite this, I did manage to bake zucchini bread (which is as delicious as nojojo claimed, got some cleaning done, (but wait! There's more!), and dealt with wedding-related phone calls. Three or four of them. I have more today.
And, despite my best attempts to avoid it, I will be sewing Alix's dress for the wedding. The designer version looks like this, but in a shade called seafoam, and while there's a McCall's pattern quite similar, the waist is a little different, and the skirt may not be quite as full.
Okay, so that means I'm piecing together two patterns and doing two layers--the top layer's chiffon, and there's a lining fabric. No store near us (say within 40 miles) actually carries the dress, so I'm working off of my daughter's description of what she remembers of the dress she tried on. I'm actually damn grateful she doesn't care about the beading at the waist.
Well, I'll finally get into the LA garment district, and I can count that as a good thing.
And the dog is barking again. He can't get up on the sofa to see who went by outside.
Last night and this morning was/is all bark. I may give him another Benedryl just to see if he'll sleep.
June 28/400 words
Eeesh. I just barely made double my word goals for the week. Friday morning, I had been pretty certain I would make a larger dent than that, and then I didn't write in the mornings. I took yesterday morning off, too, and now it's Sunday and who knows if I'll have time.
These habits! You can't leave them on their own for a single day.
No, it's slogslogslog, never give up.
I write twice today then. Once before noon, once later, seeing that my conscience (aka KellyM) will be checking up on me when the Posse meet tonight.
In Harley news, the collar transition proceeds. He wants his bowl tipped (by me, of course) so he doesn't have to attempt to get the collar over it. If the collar snags on the bowls, as it is prone to do, he jumps and believes that the bowl was trying to bite him. He's better at gauging how wide his head with collar is and is making it through doors and past obstacles okay. He followed Zoey up to the top of the hill and managed (after lots of yelping at me to come get him, but I was all dude, it's a HILL, no steps, it's dark, no way) to get himself down with the rattle of kibble as reinforcement. He has not yet learned how far that collar sticks out, however, so I am constantly being smacked in the back of my calves by a sharp plastic edge.
And while getting the cream I'm supposed to rub on his sores was nearly impossible yesterday morning with the eldest's help, I have learned how to do it myself. Kibble. Harley will do anything for kibble, even if it requires him lying on his back while I rub something into the sores on the underside of his tail.
Plus, he slept last night. Actually he slept most of the day yesterday, so there is a god.
In other news, I have acquired a flower girl for the kids, and I am sewing one! additional dress, possibly, for the flower girl. I will know for sure by Tuesday morning. And if I can't find anything I really like online or in the stores around here, I may very well be making a dress for moi.
Bleh. I really, really hope I can find something I like. I am not certain why I am rejecting prints as MofB/G dresses, but I am. Any evidence to the contrary would be appreciated.
As for a favorite snippet--
"You don't have to be happy or content," Bashak told her, his eyes clear and facial muscles relaxed, even though he was agitated, too. He held out the cup, and the sharp green scent wafted towards her. "You just have to stay alive."
Now, off to face the world.
June 29/400 words
A dog barked at 5A, so I fumbled out of bed and into my robe, sure it was Harley, who can't get out through his dog door with that cone.
It stopped by the time I staggered to the stairs, and when I arrived at the sliding door, there was no dog. At least, not mine.
They were all still asleep with the eldest child.
I returned to bed, flipping and flopping around--first, too cold, then, too hot.
I gave up at 6A and woke the dogs myself. If I was going to be awake, they were going to be up with me, dammit. It works for them after all.
The child, naturally, is still sleeping. And both dogs have returned to that state. Me? I'm running on caffeine.
Damn them all.
Week 2 of the Clarion Write-a-thon begins. If you'd like to sponsor me, click here, and receive the satisfaction that only a good guilt monkey with a whip and a cattle prod possesses--which is all about keeping me honest and productive. (Yes, KellyM, that was for you. Gimme more of my novel, please.)
Four hundred more words last night, once my internet resumed (sorry, Posse! Mom called while I was trying to restart Skype, and I just gave up) and because I actually knew what had to happen in this scene, they were relatively easy words, even though I had to write longer to get them. And they're replete with little notations to myself like, RESEARCH THIS FOR GOD'S SAKE (when it comes to lighting an oil lamp of the time period--I mean, no matches? Flint and stone? He's not going to rub two sticks together for an hour. Jeez. And then the pen/plume/whatever the hell he's writing with. Why did I set the novel in this time period??? Couldn't it have been steampunk instead?)
However, after three mornings away from writing, my inclination is to wash the dishes or do a load of laundry, or heaven forbid! scrub the upstairs bath.
Because all of those sound better than sitting down and writing by myself for fifteen lousy minutes or so.
WTF?
It's all about avoidance, and it's the same avoidance I go through when I must put on my tennis shoes. Because tennis shoes = working out, and god forbid I actually do that.
So, since I'm all about the avoidance this morning, the next two items on my list are the writing and the exercise.
Bleh.
But I will be a better person for it, and to console myself, I already have 20 ha! 40% of my word count goal for the week.
