An Audience of Me

Reminder/New blogs!

2009-07-01T14:31:00.003-05:00

Don't forget to move your links or feeds over to the new blogs:

Julie Kibler

What Women Write

I'm not a very persistent blogger yet at my personal blog, but my first post is up today at What Women Write:

Signs you MIGHT be a writer!

Scoot on over and see what's happening at the new place

2009-06-15T19:01:00.004-05:00

I'm now making a slow start in blogging over at:
http://www.juliekibler.blogspot.com/

And soon to be blogging at a GROG! (A group blog. Ha.) at:
http://www.whatwomenwritetx.blogspot.com

Hope if you're still stopping by here, you'll move your bookmark over to these new blogs and see what's happening.

I have to figure out how to incorporate my poppy photo at the new blog. It's actually mine, and not a stock photo, taken in Toronto one summer. I will miss it otherwise.

What's happening

2009-02-24T00:26:00.005-06:00

Just in case you wondered if I fell off the face of the earth --
I didn't.

What I am doing is working behind the scenes on a new blog with a new focus and (gasp!) a new identity. You'll be the first to know when I launch it.

As I get closer to publication (every day is closer to publication, no matter how far in the future or what happens between now and then, right?), I'm thinking about branding and considering how best to present myself as a writer.

I'm starting with my blog. I'd like to put a little more focus on the issues I'm exploring and a little less focus on my bellybutton. To that end, I'm taking a short break as I figure out the best way to do it. I'm getting there, and I think you'll like it. Just to give you a hint of one thing you'll find, I'm planning interviews not only with authors who write about families in crisis, but with real-life ordinary people who've faced extraordinary dilemmas.

I can't wait to show you the new digs, and I hope you'll stick with me and tolerate the silence until then.

~Julie

Sticking my head out of the sand

2009-02-04T23:09:00.002-06:00

What I've been thinking about lately:

1) Work. Putting the finishing touches on my manuscript. It's currently with a lawyer friend getting the once over to be sure I didn't commit any major offenses against legal procedure in the story. When she returns it, if I haven't failed too miserably, I really and truly will be querying agents. (Yeah, I said that a few times already, but I forgot to account for this step in the process. Silly me.) Also working on synopses of varying lengths so they're ready to go when the time comes. I had to rename a character today when I realized I had too many similar names. I went through the 900 most popular girls' names in 1992 and finally settled on one I didn't like as much as the original, but it had to be done.

2) My treadmill. Yes, my new treadmill that sits proudly in my family room and will until or unless I stop using it for exercise and start using it as a clothes hanger. Let's hope that doesn't happen any time soon. I've discovered two things. First, I exercise better when distracted. My computer sits nicely on a built-in shelf on the console and I can get about 45 minutes of walking in while I read email and blogs first thing in the morning. (My morning, that is.) I've done this three out of three days so far this week. Whee! Second, I think I'm like a reverse addict when it comes to working out. I know in my heart of hearts and from past experience that if I skip a day, I'm about ten times more likely to quit. So, I get up, and I get on the treadmill. I don't take the first drink. :) I'm not sure how things will work on the days I truly can't do this (i.e., I have to be somewhere early), but I'm not going to think about that yet.

3) Blogging and focus. I read here and there how a blog needs a focus that keeps people coming back. I see the proof of this even in author blogs. Those that are simple journals don't necessarily have high traffic. Those that take a particular focus generally have a high level of traffic and interraction in the comments. It doesn't matter so much at this point in my life, but if I'm eventually published, it will become more important. So I've been thinking about this.

And in the interest of brevity, I'm quitting here for now!

And here I was thinking I was a genius.

2009-01-25T00:27:00.004-06:00

Well, GOSH, I thought all that stuff I wrote in my last post was original, you know, that *I* thought of it, but it turns out some other dude was thinking it, too. I will be reading more by him, methinks. (And, of course, I didn't think I was saying anything that unique. I figured there were folks out there who were saying better.)

Thanks, Kathy, for pointing me in his direction on your blog.

Ready or not, change is here!

2009-01-20T12:56:00.004-06:00

We have a new president. Whether you voted for President Obama or not, the day is here, and I hope we'll all join together in showing respect and support for the democratic process and the man we have elected to lead our country in a strange and often terrifying time.

I'm a big believer in personal responsibility. Don't just jump on the truck that has your party emblazoned on its side. Please, please, take the time to read, study the issues (all views), and make informed decisions before you speak.

The election season and time leading up to the inauguration have been stressful for me because I do that, and it's hard sometimes to stand in the middle of the great divide. I'm staunchly bipartisan, though I did have particularly strong preferences in this election.

While waiting for election day and inauguration day, my stomach has knotted and ached at times while reading the hatefulness spewed from my fellow citizens (from both parties), while deleting emails I am fairly certain people didn't read all the way to the bottom or check out for validity before clicking "forward," and when listening to small children spout the views of their parents--because kids are honest if easily misled. They'll repeat what their parents say at home, and not only repeat it loud and clear, but more often than not grow to embrace it.

But now the election is over, the swearing in has been accomplished without chaos. I read something this morning about how amazing that is. So many people watching around the world live in countries where change of power almost guarantees violence and chaos. (I can't remember where I read that -- sorry for the lack of attribution.)

We are a country who can embrace our political differences (not to mention all the other kinds of differences! Wow!) and still, at the end of the work day, get on the highways, the railways, and in the air, and feel confident that we will be safe nearly 100% of the time as we rub shoulders -- in spite of those differences. What great privilege -- and what great responsibility.

Change we can believe in. That was the platform. President Barack Obama is one man and we're expecting a lot of change from him.

But change also happens one citizen at a time. What about you?

My sidekick

2009-01-12T16:03:00.004-06:00

My cat likes to help me work. She also likes reading blogs over my . . . knee. Yep, that's my knee. I was sitting cross-legged and Yentl decided to join me as I read Lisa's December book blog.

Speaking of brevity ...

2009-01-09T14:03:00.003-06:00

So, this is my problem. I am unblocked. Need to reblock.

Reblock Yourself the Polly Frost Way!

Freakin' hilarious.

And of course, I had to come blog about it immediately. But look how FAST I did it!!!

Three words (and a million besides)

2009-01-09T02:14:00.001-06:00

On New Year's Eve, Barbara (who incidentally had a book release the day before under her nifty new name! Yeah, that Lost Recipe for Happiness book that's flying off the shelves and is already in is third print run.) blogged about a news show that asked people to list three words that defined 2008 for them. She took it a step further by asking people to list not only their three 2008 words in her comments, but also the three they'd like to see in 2009. I didn't list mine, but I've been thinking about them ever since and thought I'd post them here as a way to officially start blogging for 2009.

In a way, this is replacing making resolutions for me. Last year, I made resolutions for the first time in forever. I did okay. I didn't submit a full manuscript, but I'm almost there! I certainly made progress. At this point, I'm not even sure what I meant, because I have to query first and get a request for a full before I can submit one, so that part's not really up to me.

I certainly didn't lose the 30 to 40 pounds. In fact, I think I gained the extra five that's typical. Grrrrr. I'm not sure I really even tried.

I did become more confident in my writing voice—I took the class I mentioned, and I wrote constantly. I'm still not sure exactly what my voice is, but I'm getting there.

Turning off the computer by 7 p.m. three nights a week? HAHAHAHA!!! Did I really say that? I think I did it for a few weeks. But, hey, since Facebook happened, at least the family all sits around and Facebooks together! Hmm. Something to think about.

Now, onward. I think the three words concept is easier and harder all at once. When I look back at 2008, it's pretty easy to list the words. When I look forward, it's even pretty easy to say what I'd like to see happen. I think I'll even be able to identify the ways I succeeded when I look back.

But on the other hand ... these words? They're kind of BIG. There's a lot of room for both success and defeat. Maybe that's good.

So. 2008. My three words.

Plodding ~ Pain ~ People pleasing

I kind of like that alliteration thing going on, but they are honestly the three that stuck.

Plodding: I knew going in it would be a year of plodding, specifically with my writing. I knew I had tons of work to do on my manuscript before it would be ready to go to an agent. I'm not sure I had any idea how MUCH. I finished my first draft in ... February? March? I thought I'd be ready to query by June or July. I'm still working on it. And yet, I knew I'd be plodding, nonetheless. So, it was perfectly okay by me.

Pain: Yeah, it just sucks being over 40. What they tell you about turning 40 and your body turning on you? It's all true. Now, losing that 30 or 40 pounds might have helped, but still. It's been happening for a few years already, but I had some true surprises this year—some chronic stuff creeping up on me when I thought I had the triggers under control. Some brand new stuff that threw me for a loop. Not going into detail, because it's all quite boring.

But, I am pleased to say, it didn't stop me from writing, and it didn't stop me from the trip of a lifetime to the UK. (And I also promise to finish my UK blogging soon!) Fortunately, I seem to be recovered, or at least on the upswing, from nearly all those little buggers. Knock on wood.

People Pleasing: Who me? Yeah. My name is Julie, and I'm a people pleaser. (Hi, Julie!)

Seems like ever since I gave my mom three days of bad labor, tried to come out feet first, and didn't let her sleep for four months, I've been trying to make up for it. Apparently TO THE WHOLE WORLD.

<Said in Craig Ferguson voice>: I KNOW!!!!

I polish my veneer as best I can – the one I hope makes me look a little bit like a rebel or a cynic – but anyone who knows me well (you know, in REAL life or at least three years in the e-world) knows I'm an approval addict.

My friend Gail and I have frequent discussions about it. If it were a club, we'd be like 300 Degree People Pleasers, or Eagle People Pleasers, or Distinguished People Pleasing Masters.

We're both people pleasers of the highest level, but we seem to manifest in different ways. She says yes to everything, and then wears herself out trying to make sure everyone is happy with her yes. I say no to everything, because I worry I'll disappoint, and then I feel guilty for not committing. Well, not to everything. Just those things where I think there's a reasonable chance I might fail. Or get bored. Or get sick of the people I'd have to work with. Or pretty much anything else when I can find a good excuse to "just say no." (Obviously, I am super volunteer mom. Or not.)

It's actually a case of boundaries set way, way out. Maybe a legacy from a tumultuous childhood and early adulthood. Sometimes, it's healthy, because I rarely over-commit myself, but sometimes it's not, because I probably pass up some great opportunities for stretching.

On the other hand, I do have a small circle I let in, and my people pleasing tendencies sometimes get hyper, crazy, and out of control. I like people to be happy, and if they're not, I'm usually convinced it's my fault. So, this year wasn't much better than any of the previous, oh, 40 something in this area. Well, that's not completely true. You should have seen me ten years ago. But I'm still going to have to put it at the end of each year until I conquer it, okay?

And that was 2008.

Sounds like a rotten year, doesn't it? HA! Gotcha. It wasn't at all! It was a pretty good year, even. A wonderful year, for the most part. I liked more of it than I disliked. These are just the three words that stuck out, for some reason.

So, 2009.

Here are the three words that floated to the top after much sifting and shaking.

Anticipation ~ Ownership ~ Brevity

(Stop laughing at the third one. I SAID STOP IT! NOW!)

Anticipation: It's here. The time is now. Almost. That's how I feel. The time is almost now.

I'd say it's now, but I just have this great big excited lump of anticipation in my throat, and I like it. I like having a sense that the best is yet to come, and I hope that for each win this year, I have that sense of anticipation coming right on its heels. Right now, specifically, it's almost time to query. I hope soon I can say it's almost time to see my dream of becoming a published writer come true. Yes, I want to live "in the moment," too, but anticipation is what keeps most of us going, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. But I promise to try to remember to revel in the here and now, too.

Ownership: This is in direct response to the people pleasing thing. I told Gail when we were talking that we just need to own it, then do it. Stop worrying about who we're going to disappoint, who we might fail, who might think we drank a big can of crazy. Let our yes's be yes, then get it done, or our no's be no and forget about it. And we probably both need to cross that middle line a little more often than we've done in the past.

Ownership's also about those things like weight loss. I own this body and it's time to clean it up. Todd and I are looking at treadmills. I've figured out I hate gyms. Actually, I didn't even have to figure it out. I knew it all along, but I tried to pretend otherwise. I don't like having to take the time to find the right workout clothes, brush my hair and teeth, wash my face, and all the other silly stuff we women "of a certain age" feel like we have to do to go to the gym. (If you are that age and can just go, bless you.)

I like walking outside, but this crazy Texas weather is so unpredictable, you might get three days a week where you can do it in relative comfort, you might get seven, or you might get none. This is no way to develop an exercise routine.

I also like solitude in my workouts. I'm not coordinated enough for classes, and I could never follow the rules of team sports. To put it simply, I want to roll out of bed, drink a diet coke, and jump on the treadmill, no wasting time on vanity, maybe even allowing myself a time every day when I can catch up on a TV show or just think. So, we're going to see how that works out. I'll letcha know.

Brevity: (Yeah, you're still laughing, aren't you?) I know it. I go on too long.

I'm the writer whose current manuscript would be about 200K words if it contained all the extra stuff I've cut. I've gotten pretty good at cutting the words in my fiction (105K now, thank you very much), but these other things? The things I do say yes to? Blogs? Conversations? Facebooking? I can live there. I don't do the grocery shopping for our household, because as my mom says, I move in.

A few weeks ago, Todd and I had a blowout in the kitchen over something as simple as how to cook ... um ... what was it? I can't even remember now. (And it's going to drive me nuts.) At any rate, he wasn't paying much attention to my thoughts on why he should have been cooking something one way instead of another. Finally, he just told me flat out I was going on too long and it didn't really matter.

I would have been okay with that had he not added, "You do that to everyone."

OUCH!!! OUCH, OUCH, OUCH!!!

Now, a few weeks later, (after I slapped him and told him promptly that apparently SOME people like hanging around with me despite the fact that I GO ON TOO LONG, because he was just WRONG for making that kind of GENERAL STATEMENT, right, relationship experts? Well, ok, I didn't really slap him.)...

Anyway, after all that, I can see his point. I KNOW it's true. Otherwise, it probably wouldn't have bugged me, correct?

So, I'm looking that in the eye, and I'm going with it, and this year, I'm going to try as hard as I can.

Brevity.

To that end, this may the longest post you see from me all year, with the possible exception of the two I've already written but not yet published. I may still post them, but I've been letting them marinate while I've considered my three words. Thus, if you have to page down more once in my future blog posts, you have permission to yell at me. If you have to page down at all, you have my permission to cough and politely remind me.

The blog posts I remember the most—and the ones I'm most likely to comment on—are long enough I don't feel like I wasted my time opening the silly link, but short enough I can read fairly quickly and get a few takeaways I might remember for a while. Generally not the five page ones. (Some of my blog friends post at length, however, and still accomplish this for me. Lisa, for instance. Her thought processes are truly remarkable, and I read to the end every single time, and she always has a slew of discussion going on.)

But I'm a rambler, and I'm not particularly proud of it.

I mean, this post alone is four pages long in Word. SINGLE SPACED.

It may take a little practice. I'd venture to say I'll blog LESS than MORE for a while until I get the process of writing shorter down. Because you know I'll be doing major surgery for a while.

So, that's it. My three words for 2008 and 2009.

Now, I'm going to do what Barbara did—tag, you're it! Leave your thoughts in the comments if you'd like, or let me know if you do this on your own blog.

(Bungi, you're excused because of all the times you've tagged me and I've never played, unless you just want to! See how that just proves my point about saying no? Ha ha.)

And ...

Happy New Year! (Also three words.)

Oh, where, oh, where have my little girls gone?

2009-01-07T18:38:00.004-06:00

I'm going to return to the blogosphere in force shortly. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this:
I was searching for my girls to tell them it was time to do chores when I found them like this. I'm a sucker for girls reading and they know it. They got five more minutes.

Here we come a caroling

2008-12-18T15:48:00.007-06:00

I'm totally stealing this blog post idea from Lisa, but I decided not to clog up her comments with any more links and just post them here! She talked about favorite Christmas carols yesterday, and of course I was off and running. So, here's a bit of drive-by caroling for you. It's a little scattered, but isn't that kind of how life is at the moment?

I mentioned hearing "Noel Nouvelet" at Gail's son's high school concert Tuesday night and the memories it brought back of junior French class. We learned carols in French then had a French caroling party, which ended up at one of the student's homes for hot apple cider and holiday treats. I was extremely shy in junior high and high school, and this is one of my best school memories ever. I felt comfortable participating in this activity whereas I was normally terrified of going to activities away from school with classmates. I felt a part of it, included, and it's a warm memory indeed.

I got to thinking about these beautiful songs, and I entered the youtube video spiderweb. Because you know it's like a spiderweb--once you climb in, it's hard to climb back out.

I remembered another one we sang--"Un Flambeau, Jeanette, Isabelle!"--and found this lovely harp guitar performance. (I'm not sure I've heard of a harp guitar before. Looks like it was built in 1915. What a beautiful instrument!)

I can't hear this song anywhere, ever, without getting little chills.

Un flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle
Un flambeau, courons au berceau.
C'est Jesus, bonnes gens du hameau,
Le Christ est ne,
Marie appelle
Ah! Ah! Que la mere est belle
Ah! Ah! Que l'Enfant est beau.

Let's see how well my retention of the four years of French class is:

Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabelle
Bring a torch, come see what is here.
It's Jesus, good people of this village
Christ is born
Mary is calling
Ah! Ah! How beautiful is the mother,
Ah! Ah! How beautiful is the baby.

And now for the official translation. Huh, not bad!:

Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella
Bring a torch, come swiftly and run
Christ is born,tell the folk of the village
Jesus is sleeping in His cradle
Ah, ah, beautiful is the Mother
Ah, ah, beautiful is her Son

That was fun. There's are more verses, but I'll let you look those up yourself.

Here's a performance of "Noel Nouvelet." I don't recognize this group (Anuna?), but they remind me of Celtic Woman. This is the way we sang it. Solemnly, that is--not that we looked this good. :) Some versions are more upbeat.

And for a recent favorite, "If it wasn't for the Night," from my favorite singer/songwriter, David Wilcox. I couldn't locate a video or song play, but you can link to the full lyrics here. Here's just a peek.

... Even then somehow in the bitter wind and cold
Impossibly strong I know
Even then a bloom as tender as a rose
Was breaking through the snow
In the dark night of the soul
In the dark night of the soul

If it wasn't for the babe
Lying helpless on the straw
There would be no Christmas day
And the night would just go on ...

Last year, my brother sent us a recording of my five-year-old nephew singing a Chanukah song, over and over and over and over ... until finally, you hear my brother whisper in the background, and he quits. Cutest thing ever.

Chanukah, with what do we celebrate? With gifts and games and candles bright!
Chanukah, ohhhhhh, what a miracle! Only enough oil for just. one. night!

The world "oh" got longer each time, as well as the definition between just, one, and night. (Couldn't find the specific lyrics, so this might be a slight paraphrase.)

Thanks for taking a stroll with me. I hope you're hearing (and yes, singing along) with all your holiday favorites, too.

Tag, you're it, and warm wishes for a very happy Christmas, Chanukah, or whatever you happen to celebrate in your neck of the woods!

Movie meals

2008-12-14T00:04:00.003-06:00

I'm not sure where that title came from. It just popped into my head and seemed like a good alternative to "Food for thought," and it works here.

I've seen two holiday offerings at the movie theater in the last two weekends, and being the movie fanatic I am, I had to comment.

Four Christmases and Nothing Like the Holidays ...

I had low expectations considering the mediocre reviews each received, but was pleasantly entertained by each one. Tonight's, however--Nothing Like the Holidays--took first.

Four Christmases was entertaining. It was fun. I laughed out loud several times. I cringed a few times. I got slightly sentimental maybe once. (I can't remember for sure on that last thing, really, so it must not have been huge if I did.) I like Reese Witherspoon. I like, um, whats-his-name ... good grief, I've forgotten his name, but you know, the MALE LEAD. He played against Jennifer Aniston in The Breakup. Him. In one scene, he did a pretty funny spoof on the nativity story. (May lightning not strike my head for saying that out loud.)

Nothing Like the Holidays and Four Christmases shared many of the same elements. Families, in all their insane glory, getting together for Christmas. Obnoxious sibling rivalry and hi-jinks. Unfathomable parental actions. Love, in the end.

But I have to say, I like a movie that makes me think and teaches me a little something I didn't already know about the world.

I already knew this, but I re-learned that people who talk on their cell phones in movie theaters are idiots.

Yeah, they really are. Don't do it. Just. Say. No. And I didn't even learn that from the movie. The one I paid to see but couldn't hear in one of the most critical scenes--the scene where you learned why one character was the way he was. I may never learn because I COULDN'T HEAR HIM TALKING OVER THE IDIOT ON HER CELL PHONE!

Rant over.

From the movie ...

I learned some fun stuff about Puerto Rican holiday culture. Maybe stereotypical, maybe not really the norm, but how would I know? Still cool. In one scene, the Parrandas, the families go door to door on Christmas Eve singing, playing music, gathering up all the other neighbors and parading to a party together--one they've cooked and preened for and planned all year. It brought a genuine tear to my eye. It wasn't the least bit sad; it was just beautiful. We don't have enough of that kind of thing in our lives.

Everyone kept talking about drinking coquito. Todd and I were still trying to figure out what it was as we ate dinner after the movie. I see from another website that it's a drink made from coconut milk and rum. Not a fan of coconut, so I'll probably be passing on that.

Four Christmases had a neat, tied-up happy ending. Nothing Like the Holidays was more slice-of-life. Some things resolved, others were hinted at, yet others left you hanging. I'm one of the weird ones who really loves slice-of-life stories. Happy endings are nice, but kind of boring. Slice of life is, well, more like real life. (Remember, I'm the one who didn't like cartoons as a kid.)

So, anyway ... I've mostly forgotten about Four Christmases, and I had pretty much forgotten about it an hour after it ended. I think Nothing Like the Holidays will stick with me for a while.

If you want to see a holiday movie and can only pick one, I'd say go with Nothing Like the Holidays.

As it turns out ...

2008-12-11T22:54:00.002-06:00

... I use the phrase "as it turns out" way too many times when I blog in the wee hours. :) I'll try not to do that again.

A few ~~mispellings~~ (EDIT! MISSPELLINGS!!! HAHA!), too! :-O Two points for those who want to point them out in the comments.

When in St. Helens

2008-12-11T01:08:00.006-06:00

Sorry for the delay. It takes a while to upload more than 200 photos to Flickr, tag them, add descriptions, and watch them a few times while sighing and reminiscing. I've also been getting actual work done on my manuscript and query letter, by the way.

Where were we? Ah, yes, we were on our way back from Wales to Preston.

Monday morning after Wales, I slept. That afternoon, I forced myself to get up, get out, and at least attempt the public transportation because I knew without it, I'd be sitting alone in a hotel room the better part of two weeks. I managed to catch the bus in front of the hotel, ride into Preston proper, walk and shop a bit, and locate a Costa Coffee where I drank hot chocolate and waited for Todd to retrieve me. It was enough for my first day alone in England.

I discovered my favorite new store that afternoon. Marks & Spencer is like a mini Target, with a little bit of everything. They have a food section with all kinds of prepared items and basic groceries. A tourist's paradise for food on the cheap! I stocked up on scones (which were quite good, but very different from the more homemade variety), peanut butter and bread, and of course, dark chocolate digestive biscuits. Oh, and my favorite new beverage--diet sparkling orange juice. I've searched for it since coming home to no avail. I guess I could mix diet Sprite and OJ for the same effect. Ryan assures me he's been mixing OJ and Mountain Dew for years.

It also turns out English marshmallows are slightly different, and I like them. They're a little on the dry side, and that's just how I like my marshmallows. I brought home a bag from M&S--a mixture of pink and white sugarcoated yum!

We ate in a restaurant that evening that looked pleasant enough from the road and had open fires and friendly servers. Against the recommendation of a friend pre-trip, I ordered a hamburger because I really wanted to know what all the fuss was. She thought someone told her they were boiled, and that they were not good, but it turns out they are broiled. I'm no stranger to broiled hamburgers cuz that's how we got them growing up, but this was a rather large broiled burger that sunk in my belly like a stone. The fries were good, though, as they were most everywhere. It turns out the restaurant was part of a chain called Embers, only each one also has its own unique name. For the record, that was my last hamburger until I returned home.

The next day, I set out to ride the bus, then train, to Liverpool. Unfortunately, some crazy person chose that day to make a bomb threat, and the trains shut down for a few hours when I was approximately 10 minutes away from Liverpool by train, but no telling how long by foot or bus. We were put out of the train at St. Helens. St. Helen's what, you may ask. I dunno. Just St. Helens. It was not a tourist destination, but it turns out this was one of my favorite afternoons. I wandered, picked up a few books in some charity shops, bought the best shopping bag ever for 99p, and ate lunch in a restaurant I'm pretty sure hadn't seen any tourists before or since.

Carol's was a tiny little place, but the menu looked safe, affordable, and left little up to interpretation. Or so I thought. I learned a lot about dining in the UK there.

The waitress for this four or five table dining room asked what she could get me after I seated myself. I ordered a Diet Pepsi (which arrived with the requisite three ice cubes), and I thought I'd order my food after I perused the menu. I believe I was meant to order my food at the same time as my drink, but the waitress finally did return. I'd decided on a "jacket"--a baked potato on this side of the pond. You could choose a topping: chilli (always with two l's there), tuna, beans, or cheese.

When I asked if I could have chilli and cheese, the waitress's eyes got huge. "Chili and cheese?" she said. "How unusual!" I nodded and smiled and wondered what I'd gotten myself into. It arrived, though, looking much as it does when I order the same thing in Texas. Tasted good, too.

I decided on a scone with cream and jam for dessert, and the waitress returned a few moments later to inform me they were out of cream. I said that was fine, I'd just have it plain. I wasn't feeling like a huge fan of jam with no cream that day. "No butter?" she asked. I shrugged and said, sure, I'll have butter. I was already feeling pretty risky after having chilli and cheese on my jacket, but why not live on the edge, right?

Before I knew it, the waitress was rummaging behind the counter for another scone (they were packaged, but not too bad) and she said something about her daughter and then I lost her.

After I ate my scone (spread with butter, of course), I waited for a while, wondering how to pay. Finally, I went to the counter and asked if I should pay there. She said yes, and rang up my total, and I decided to be brave at that point and admit all my ignorance at once. I had no idea whether or not I was supposed to tip. The guide books advise that tipping is not consistent in the UK as it is here--15-20% of the bill for dining--and not expected in many places. The trick is figuring out where, and if so, what percentage. Ten percent seems to be norm, more or less. When I asked what was customary, the lady shrugged and said it wasn't expected, but I handed her a one pound coin (probably about 10% of my total) and she giggled.

Then I asked whether anyone had ever ordered chilli and cheese on their jacket and she said, "NO, never." I told her where I come from, you don't get one without the other.

At that point, the only other customers in the place, an elderly couple sitting by the counter, jumped in. "Oh," said the wife, "You're an American! I love Americans! They tip everyone, and they're always, 'Thank you!' and 'Have a nice day!' and they're just so nice!" She continued to rave about how well she and her grandchildren had been treated on four trips to the states, and I basked in her warmth. I'd been feeling a little lonely and isolated up to that point, and it was a welcome change.

Her husband began telling me stories of serving with Americans in the Korean and Viet Nam wars and a place called Burton Wood where the American soldiers shipped in and out or stayed when they were injured. ("Buh-ton Ward! Ward, like ward!" he said, banging the table when I couldn't understand his pronunciation of wood, smiling all the while.) He told me of American soldiers who always had candy in their pockets for the local children, and ones who married the girls and spirited them away to America.

His wife said he'd tell me stories until I told him not to, so I finally did when I felt it was time to leave. They gave me directions to a glass blowing museum, and I wandered over there for a bit and finally made my way back to the train, which was running again, and back to Preston.

And as it turns out, the waitress had been telling me how her daughter was happy because she'd already spread my scone with jam when they realized they were out of cream, so she got to eat it when I ordered it plain ... with butter.

I thought I was going to tell you about York in this post, but I guess that's for another day. That also means no Flickr link. Instead, I'll show you two of the five photos I took those two days right here. (I was resting my shutter finger after Wales.) No worries, I took plenty the next two days.

The first is St. Helens City Hall. The second is the war memorial in the square, with the first batch of what I'm sure became many, many more poppy-decorated crosses and arrangements. Armistice Day was a huge occasion while we were there, and the poppy is the symbol of rememberance. I have a particularly embarrassing story to share about this very thing while we were in Edinburgh.

Next stop, York.

Wales weekend, part troix

2008-12-01T18:51:00.008-06:00

Packing up and leaving our wonderful B&B was sad, but we knew other wonders awaited, so that we did. We headed out for a drive around gorgeous Snowdonia National Park with a stop for an hour or so in the village of Beddgelert.

This little village was named for the legendary hunting dog of Prince Llywelyn the Great (the one King Edward later routed out). The prince was an avid hunter with a (also legendary) castle in the area. One day, Gelert, his dog, did not appear for the hunt. When his master returned, he was greeted by the site of Gelert with bloody jaws and fur. Finding his son's nursery with upturned cradle and blood everwhere, but no baby, he assumed the dog had attacked his baby son and was brokenhearted. He plunged his sword into Gelert's heart, killing the dog, then heard a baby's cry as the dog died. He flipped the cradle to find the baby, alive and well, and a wolf the dog had killed protecting him. Llywelyn was struck with remorse. To show his homage to his brave dog, he buried him outside the castle walls and marked the grave.

According to this site, legend and reality were quite mixed up, especially considering the cairn marking the grave is less than 200 years old, and this act would have happened in the 13th century, but it still makes an interesting story and likely keeps the little town (whose name means "Grave of Gelert") in business.

On the other hand, it's pretty high on charm alone. We enjoyed it and never even saw the grave. We wandered a bit and walked a little way up one of the many public walking trails around Snowdonia. I managed to cull my photos down to *only* 109. This day held some of the most breathtaking views of our trip, as well as architecture and landscape you might picture in your head when you imagine a place like Wales. It was that perfect.

Hope you enjoy them. Of course, I've posted a few here if you don't have time to look. (Or maybe to tempt you.)

Wales Weekend, part deux

2008-11-23T18:39:00.011-06:00

Waking up in the UK on vacation often means a "traditional" breakfast--English, Welsh, or Scottish depending on which country you happen to be in that day. Saturday morning in Wales, we didn't get a very early start on our sightseeing because we wallowed in the traditional breakfast.

We walked up the hill from the Osborne House to their parent hotel, the Empire, and I learned that American bacon is nothing like the bacon in the UK. What we call bacon, they'd probably call dried out scraps of fried pig fat. What they call bacon, we'd call ham--with lots of tasty fat around the edges. I'm pretty sure I ate my weight in that kind of bacon while we were travelling. The traditional breakfast includes bacon, eggs, hash browns, a grilled tomato and mushrooms, dried cereal, porridge (oatmeal, I think), fruit, croissants , muffins, or other breads, coffee, tea, or hot chocolate ... and don't forget the yoghurt. Always the yoghurt. EDIT: I forgot--baked beans, too.

For this feast, hotels often charge upwards of about 25 American dollars--sometimes more. Per person. Probably more like 15 in a more economical spot. But suffice it to say, it was not necessary to eat lunch on any day we ate the traditional breakfast, or for that matter, the continental breakfast--everything but the hot, cooked items.

We finally mustered up the energy to head out to Caernarfon Castle after we could get the seatbelts around our bellies again. And did I already mention what a great job Todd did driving on the left side of the road? Although, may I just say thank goodness for Gwyneth, our very cultured SatNav lady, who gave us this advice on many occasions--"If possible, make a U-turn." A nice way of saying, "Wrong way, idiot!"

The best and worst things about the roads in the UK are the roundabouts. They're great for keeping the traffic flowing--we rarely sat in backups or had to wait for a stoplight, because there just aren't many in the areas where we were. The worst thing is trying to count how many exits you've passed when you're driving in a crazy circle and Gwyneth says, "At the roundabout, go straight on, take the second exit," or "At the roundabout, turn right, take the third exit." I'm pretty sure we got it down really well the Thursday before we left.

It was pretty thrilling to realize as we headed southwest from Llandudno that we were only about 100 miles as the crow flies from Ireland. Also pretty frustrating because we'd cut a day trip on the ferry from itinerary when we realized how many places we wanted to go and how little time we really had. Ireland will have to wait for a much longer trip in the future.

Caernarfon Castle (which seems to be pronounced car-nav-run by the locals) was the ~~first~~ (OOPS! Second?) fortress built by King Edward I when he conquered Wales. It's where his son, Edward II, the first Prince of Wales, was born and where the investiture of Prince Charles, the current Prince of Wales, took place in 1969. Legend has it the Welsh were not crazy about being invaded, but asked Edward I for representation by one of their own who spoke their language. He responded by having his wife bear their son in the castle, proclaiming little Edward II was thus a Welshman, and his first language was Welsh by default.

It's pretty sobering wandering on and through the walls of an ancient castle, realizing it's been there nearly 800 years and you're walking where people walked 800 years earlier, where kings were born and much blood was shed in loyalty. In effect, where history was written. History was written everywhere, obviously, but most of the oldest structures we can physically visit in the U.S. are only a few hundred years old. I remember being amazed at the 400 year old structures in St. Augustine, Florida, and now they seem like kids, you know? It's also interesting to realize how soundly they were built, to last so long--when construction technology as we know it didn't even exist a hundred or so years ago.

And that's probably why I feel justified in presenting you with 120 photos of our afternoon at Caernarfon Castle and the surrounding area. It sounds like a good excuse anyway. :) Many of them look alike, but if you pay attention, I'm sure there are subtle nuances that cried out, "Pick me! Pick me!" as I loaded them up to flickr. A bluer sky? A fluffy cloud? A single, more delicate blade of grass? Is this working? Don't forget you can click on "show info" to see corny captions.

For my less patient readers, I've included some here, just for you. (Click to see them full size.)

We ended the day with a meal at a Mediterranean restaurant back in Llandudno, where we learned to order "tap water" if we didn't want to pay for a tasty but expensive bottle of water.

Is this a dream?

2008-11-21T13:49:00.001-06:00

On a note completely separate from my current obsession—my travels—I thought I'd mention I received feedback on my manuscript from my deaf characters expert. Her suggested edits were quick, quite painless, and so helpful in making my story better. And it appears she genuinely liked it, which is a big bonus. She was an invaluable, providential find.

I've already fixed things up and I'm making final tweaks as I get ready to send it out to the world. I'm getting butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.

There's a decision to be made. In the publishing world, things really slow down in December and early January, and it's not always advisable to send queries out during that time period. Should I start sending with it being so near the beginning of December or wait until January? Can I stand not to? I've waited this long, I need to do what's best for my "baby," but I think if I can send a few soon, as in the week right after Thanksgiving, I might be okay.

Any thoughts from you seasoned, published writers who stop in now and then?

A weekend in Wales, part one

2008-11-21T01:05:00.003-06:00

Little by little, I'm posting photos to my flickr account. They're uploading pretty fast, which is good considering I took about, um, two thousand photos. Yeah, seriously. That's what happens when you buy a speedy new digital camera and card that holds up to 1,700 photos and uploads to your computer at lightning speed! I promise not to upload every single one, but you asked for photos, so you got 'em, Toyota.

I'm what's called a bracketer in photography lingo. To photographers, that means I frequently shoot the same scene many times in hopes of getting at least one really awesome result. In lay terms, that means my husband gets really bored (however patiently) while we're on vacation. I try hard to speed things up, but I'm a bit of a perfectionist, you could say. I used a new camera on this trip (Panasonic Lumix TZ5), which was lighter by about a ratio of 1:4 to my old Canon G5, has a fantastic 10x optical zoom, but was still new to me and thus did not always perform in the way I was used to or wanted. Got some decent pictures, nonetheless, and my back is still thanking me for the featherweight camera.

This first batch of photos is relatively small. I collapsed into my bed Thursday night after nearly 24 hours with very little sleep (having Enchanted playing right in my face during the best hours for sleep on the plane was not especially helpful! Should have taken an eye mask.).

Friday morning, I took my time getting ready to hit the road while Todd did laundry for the first time. He found a launderette relatively close to the hotel, but soon discovered it only took one pound coins and 20 pence coins. Fortunately, another customer volunteered to get him the right change when she ran out for a moment--and she actually came back with it. He had her laundry hostage, so it was a pretty safe bet.

A pound or twenty pence sounds reasonable, right? Until you consider that's about $1.50 or 30 cents in U.S. funds (cheap right now--the exchange rate was entirely in our favor on this trip at about 1.5 dollars to one pound when it's usually $2 to one pound) and it took a bunch of those coins for each load to wash and and dry. Seems like it ended up costing about six to eight dollars per load. Not as expensive as the hotel, which charged about $5.00 to launder one pair of jeans, though!

So, we headed out around lunch time for our first destination--Llandudno, Wales. Not all of the place names in this unique country are that easy to pronounce. We didn't know how to say it the entire weekend. We kept meaning to ask someone, but kept forgetting. Finally, when describing our weekend later, a few people pronounced it Lan-dud-no. Just like it's spelled. Nothing at all like Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyllllantysiliogogogoch. They call that place in North Wales Llanfair for short. It means, "The church of St. Mary in the hollow of white hazel trees near the rapid whirlpool by St. Tysilio's of the red cave." We didn't go there. (At least, not that I remember.) It would have taken too long to enter the name in the GPS system. :)

In Wales, every sign or document is supposed to be printed in two languages--Welsh and English--because Welsh is the official language. It was fun getting all tang-tungled trying to pronounce these words and names. Welsh is not based on any other language, I don't believe, so it's no use trying to figure out how the letters translate from one language to the other.

At any rate, we made the 80 mile trip from Preston to Llandudno in about 4 hours. Yep, it was a holiday weekend and the kiddos were out in force, trying to travel from one spot to another on the very limited number of major motorways.

When we got there, though, we were greeted by one of the most pleasant surprises ever. Our bed and breakfast in this instance was absolutely the best place I've ever stayed. The Hotel Hana Maui on our honeymoon was only a fraction of a place behind, but the Osborne House did NOT have lizards or bugs crawling all along the walls and floor, and only cost about half as much per night, so that gave it a little edge. (The Hotel Hana Maui cottages are open air, so there's not much you can do about the little critters. It's totally worth putting up with them, though, for the beauty of the place.)

If you go on a trip to a foreign country, you should really stay in a dump so you want to get out and see the sites. At the Osborne House, Chef Michael Waddy, his wife, and inlaws make it very difficult to want to leave the cozy luxury of their hotel, even to see the beauty of Wales. It turns out Mr. Waddy is from San Antonio, just down the road from us here in Texas. I asked how he ended up in Wales 14 years ago, and he said, "A pretty Welsh girl with long legs."

The food that came out of his kitchen was my first real meal in the UK (does that count?), and it was delicious--even our first taste of a national favorite: mushy peas. They were mashed with some kind of garlic seasoning, and though we'd been warned against mushy peas, we really want this recipe now.

If my memory serves me well, because the Internet isn't helping me here, the Osborne House was one of the original dwellings built in the Llandudno area, way back in the 1700s. Our room was one half of the top floor, and was actually a suite of two rooms--a bedroom and sitting room--plus a big bathroom with an old-fashioned clawfoot tub and even a separate water closet with a a pull-chain toilet! Maybe more than you wanted to know, but I thought it was pretty nifty. Antiques everywhere, comfy sofa and chairs, down and feather duvet and pillows, homemade shortbread cookies ... are you drooling yet? I don't have to stop there.

A working gas fireplace and real candles to light were quite romantic. How often could that legally happen in a U.S. hotel? I even halfway hoped when the lights went out the place would be haunted because it was that authentic feeling. Alas, no ghosts or crazy noises, even though it was Halloween. Turns out all the crazy night noises were in Edinburgh the next weekend.

Well, in spite of my promise to not do a long, boring, overly detailed travelogue, I've only managed to tell you about the first six or seven hours of my adventure. Sigh. I guess I'll have to continue another day.

You can go to my flickr site here and here to see all the photos from the first day or so. Click on "info" at the top of the page to see my oh, so creative captions or explanations.

Home again

2008-11-18T23:14:00.011-06:00

Well, I'm back in the real world and feeling the pull of the blog, but I'm still processing the trip to the UK. Slowly digesting it, trying to decide exactly what to regurgitate to you. (Ew. Sounds icky, right?) There is so much to tell and I don't want to simply post a long, boring, overly detailed travelogue. I'm perfectly capable of doing that, let me tell you. I'm sure you don't doubt it.

All I can say for sure at this moment is that what I've heard is true--traveling beyond your own country changes you. I've been to Canada and Mexico, but Mexico was years ago, and Canada (Toronto) felt so close to home it wasn't the same.

Meantime, these are a couple of pictures just to hold you, and I hope you'll stick around and be patient with me until I figure it all out.

The first two are the back window view from the first B&B we stayed in at Llandudno, Wales. The picture below is the view from the front window, a crescent shaped beach on the Irish Sea. Yes, we had two views. It was the most amazing B&B ever.

More soon!

(If you look closely, you can see a reflection of my camera off the window glass. The window opened, but a cold, brisker than brisk winter wind blew right into the room with it open, so I took refuge behind the glass!)

A little bit of this, a little bit of that

2008-10-15T23:32:00.005-05:00

If you're still hanging in with me on this blog, I appreciate it. It's been a full couple of weeks, and I've seriously fallen off the blog wagon. I've been thinking about other things, like . . .

My manuscript is finally out with my expert. (Did I already mention that? I might have.) I'm eagerly awaiting her remarks. Or her rotten fruit?? (Hope not.)

Band. Color guard. Band. Band. Color guard. Band. Did I mention band? Or color guard? My daughter is in the throes of contest season, and in Texas, that basically equates to, hmm, carry the three, add the six--about 10 hours of academics and 50 hours of marching band/colorguard practices/games/contests per week. It's a beatin'. And I'm not even in it.

Oh, and the minor news of a trip to the UK soon approaching. Whee! It'll be my first trip overseas other than Hawaii. Very exciting. I realize November is not the best time to visit, but when the circumstances are right, you just have to do it, okay? I got my passport (including a birth cert replacement, because durnit, it was *not* where I thought it was!) in 7 days. Amazing. And handy. I'm not going to post the details here because if you're a creeper, I don't want you to know them! :) Email me privately if you know me and really want to know. I won't think you're a creeper.

I hope to begin querying my manuscript when I return, and THAT is exciting.

I'm playing with a new concept for an interview of sorts with several of my favorite blogger authors. Perhaps one of these days I'll let them in on it and post it here!

I'm reading an interesting novel called The Girls (Lori Lansens) about conjoined twins. It's a vivid story about what it might be like to be conjoined, and also quite a poignant story of sisterhood. So, I often find myself dreaming about whatever I'm reading or writing, especially if it's heavily occupying my daytime thoughts. Last night, I was so tired and so needed to sleep, and I told myself before I fell asleep I was not going to dream I was a conjoined twin. But, of course, I did. I wasn't really sleeping soundly, and every time I needed to turn over, I would postpone it because I knew it would be really difficult--because it wouldn't be just me. How interesting is that? I hope you won't think I'm making a joke of it, because I'm not. It's just an another example of how powerful the written word can be in showing us what it's like to live in the shoes of someone not like us. Here is a good review of the book.

And speaking of word power . . .

I have been meaning to blog for days about something from a church service I attended a few weeks ago. The subject was the power of the tongue, which is always a good topic, because we can always use a little reminding about how powerful our words are. I don't usually get into religion or politics on this blog, although I enjoy engaging in intelligent email conversations about such things. (And yeah, every now and then I pop my head up on my other blog. Hehe. Then I duck fast.) But, ANYWAY, that day there was this, for your consideration:

Proverbs 21:23. Keep your mouth shut and you'll stay out of trouble. (The Message translation)

Well. At first glance, this has always appeared to say, "Keep your mouth shut. You'll stay out of trouble." But I took a second gander that day, and saw it in a whole new light. Here's my new interpretation:

"Open your mouth, and you're sure to get in trouble." (The Julie translation)

Huh. That seems portentous for a writer, doesn't it? We are going to open our mouths, thus we are going to get in trouble. So, guess what? Make sure you have your trouble prioritized. Then make it worth it.

That's all for now.

Another writer's songwriter

2008-09-30T23:12:00.003-05:00

Just in case you haven't noticed, I have a few little obsessions--namely musicians. Pretty much, if they're in town, I'm there. (And sometimes when they're out of town, I'm there, but don't call me a groupie. I'm NOT A GROUPIE. Well, not much.)

So, sorry, lonnng concert review coming up. Don't like music? Go away. :-D Music is as entwined with writing for me as anything can be. It's my sixth sense.

If you do like music, hie thee to a Swell Season concert.

Last night, my husband and I (and another 1,000 folks or so) had the opportunity to see The Swell Season in concert at the Palladium Ballroom inside Gilley's in Dallas. This is the duo of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, the leads in Once, the indie movie that blew lots of folks out of the water last year--including other contenders for Best Song at the Academy Awards.

I wondered if the experience last night could possibly top the experience of seeing them last year at Stubb's BBQ in Austin. You know, they made the movie, the songs were all ready-made for touring, etc. Could they keep it up? But I suspected they were good for at least another tour after listening to previous CDs by the Frames, Hansard's long-lived band.

I wasn't disappointed. Not by a long shot. First, the Palladium is nearly perfect as long as you don't mind standing--and there are even nooks and crannies for sitting if you don't mind listening and not seeing. Todd and I got there early enough to score a good spot along a rail that lines the general floor, elevated two or three feet above it and topped off by a narrow bar that makes for good leaning and no back aches for the old folks. My son, my friend's son, and a few other students we know were crammed on the floor in front of the stage by choice--there was plenty of room to spread out behind them. They just wanted to be able to, as my son put it, "see him blink, yo." Still, we weren't more than 10 or 15 yards from the stage--plenty close to see any of them blink, if not in great detail.

So, Hansard and Irglova are amazing. Marketa is this diminutive Czech girl (she's barely 20!) with an angelic voice and huge presence without even asserting herself much during the show. Hansard is, in a few words, a singer, a poet, an evangelist, a politician, and a clown. He wore all those hats, and very well, in the course of their 2.5 hour concert.

Glen requested the management to turn off the air conditioning so they could sing their "quietest song," without the blowing overwhelming it, and nobody cared that it got a little stuffy while they sang "Falling Slowly" almost straight out of the gate. (Then the people who only knew one song were happy for the rest of the night, you know.)

He covered Justin Timberlake's Cry Me a River when the audience wouldn't let him away without it, perfected since he pulled it off first last year at Stubb's when we were there and someone from the audience yelled it as a request. After he did it last night, he yelled, "This better not show up on YouTube," and the audience responded with a collective, "Yeah, right!"

There were a few more covers--Daniel Johnston's Life in Vain, Van Morrison's Astral Weeks--and the band's violinist, Colm Mac Con Iomaire, played a cut from his newly released solo album, The Blue Shoes (which you can also see here). Haunting, beautiful.

They played old music and new music, from Glen, Marketa, and both together. In an extended encore, Marketa played If you want me (from Once), in her words, "for the women."

Glen introduced Fitzcarraldo, a Frames song, with the idea that if you're passionate about something but have come to a wall that won't come down, stop butting your head against it. Simply turn and walk another direction and you might discover that if you keep walking, you'll eventually come to the other side of the wall--even if it means you walked clear around the earth to get there and it took many years. Good reminder about creativity and persistence, and he speaks from experience--he's nearly 40.

Happiness is a song Glen sang without his guitar, and one I think deaf or hard of hearing readers might enjoy watching on video, because I'm not sure I've ever watched someone feel the music quite as much as he does. I wish there were a captioned one out there, but perhaps it will appear on the Austin City Limits special they recorded last weekend at the ACL festival.

Because the heart's a fool
A stranger to the rule
Because the love has grown
You had to leave alone

And if you've gotto go, go with happiness
And if you've gotto go, go with happiness

In a subtle turn toward the political, Glen introduced a song "from the perspective of a man who tells the truth about things that didn't happen." Lies (also from Once) is a song whose lyrics make me stop and listen carefully each time--not to mention gaze, enthralled, if I'm watching the one-of-its-kind scene in the movie. You can see him perform it here, if you'd like. And just a taste ...

The little cracks they escalated
And before you know it was too late
For making circles and telling lies

You're moving too fast for me

and i can't keep up with you

Maybe if you slow down for me

and you see you're only telling lies, lies, lies

Breaking us down with your

lies, lies, lies

When will you learn?

Glen ended the concert with an admonition. During this election season, it's been interesting to watch how many of my blog friends from outside the U.S. are as vocal, if not more so, than those of us right here at home. Glen took up that refrain by saying how they, as Europeans, are watching, waiting to see how things play out because everything we do as a country affects them, too.

The image came to me of a young boy sitting in Ireland, strumming his guitar and dreaming of America, but watching with both great fear and great hope as we tread a dangerous path. He basically boiled it down to asking each person in the audience to wake up on election day and take a walk to clear his or her head of all the b.s. (said in full, with wonderful Irish accent, of course) and propaganda from the television, radio, internet, and newspapers, and then go vote for the person we really believe will steady us again.

He finished with the song I've listened to over and over lately, thinking of how timely it was. He asked people to sing along on the chorus, and they did, and it was really quite inspiring. (Again, an old video, here)

People Get Ready (from The Cost/The Frames)

People all get ready
'Cos we're tearing down the stand
Rebuild what's gone unsteady
And see it through with newer hands
And what has gone between us
Is a lot, is a lot
And who'll be there to clean us
If you're not, if you're not

We have all the time in the world
To get it right, to get it right
We have all the love in the world
To set alight, to set alight

"What is correct?" she said tongue-in-cheekily.

2008-09-24T15:40:00.008-05:00

Anyone else think that looks funny?

I'm in one of those quandaries that's really just a timewaster, and it's making me glum.

You know the kind.

~The perennial prologue debate. (Agents say they hate 'em, yet they're in almost every recent book I pick up.)

~That that thing. (~~Five~~ SIX(?) in this post. I think that they're all okay. Except the one I just typed to make my point.)

~Show, don't tell. But please, tell me how to REALLY do this. Better yet, show me!

~To exclamation point or not. (I kinda liked the one in that last point. I also like parentheses. But for the sake of publication one day, I leave them out when I'm not blogging. I snuck ONE set of parens into my manuscript sneakily last night, and boy, did I feel like I was living on the edge.)

~Unfortunately, I must also mention the overuse of adverbs.

But, today's quandary: Asked vs. said.

(Which leads to the whole dialogue tag discussion, but I'd prefer to stick with this one today, thanks.)

Ray Rhamey over at Flogging the Quill mentioned in a flogging today that "____ asked" is irrelevant if you've enclosed a question in quotation marks. You can go ahead and say, "____ said."

But, I googled it a little (for extra points,what are the two glaring errors in that phrase? Wait, three.), and found conflicting advice. We were not surprised.

It's a wonder any of us get to the point where we actually query a manuscript. Hmm, I wonder if it's a conspiracy.

If we build more rules, only the truly diligent ones will come.

Or ... maybe the brave ones. The ones who throw caution to the wind and exclaim mightily, "Pick me! Pick at my prologue! Pick at my dialogue tags! Pick at whatever you like, but, please, pick me!"

Does this make me look fat?

2008-09-12T00:46:00.005-05:00

Revising is a little like shopping for new clothing or glasses, which I did several times this week and last. You try things on. You see how something looks. How it feels. A little too loose? A little too tight? Too long? Too in your face? Too ... PINK? Is this really me, or am I trying too hard?

You walk to a new stack and start over.

You can spend too long. Finally, you have to say, "Okay, this is the best I can do," and hand over the credit card. Yet still, sometimes, you get home and you realize you didn't get it right. (For instance, I can't stand my new glasses.)

I'm so ready to hand over the credit card, but I'm still just not quite sure whether my story makes my butt look fat.

My little obsession

2008-09-03T23:59:00.005-05:00

A writer's musician (and if you want to see what I mean, just look here at the notes from his recent release):

And a source, for me, of much inspiration, both personally and in my writing. (That's a lot of commas.) Yes, I'm proud to admit I'm a card-carrying member of the cult of David Wilcox. ;)

See him a couple of times, and he'll get to you. And to your family. My 15-year-old (15!!) daughter's wish for her birthday? A ticket to the upcoming DW concert here in DFW. My son's requested and granted 19th birthday wish last year? A ticket to the DW concert. These are teenagers, people. Listening to a folk singer pushing 50. With their parents.

Besides, how can you resist that laugh?

Fall has sprung and school has begung

2008-08-27T13:14:00.002-05:00

Wait, that's supposed to be spring, but it just doesn't work here as well as fall. I just like to pretend I'm a poet occasionally.

But, indeed, although the calendar does not reflect that it's fall just yet, school has started and I am enjoying the first week of quiet during the day. When the kids get home, it's another story. Chaos reigns and panic ensues as we contemplate the remaining number of emergency forms to complete and supplies to purchase.

Yet, for the moment, I'm ensconced in my favorite coffee shop for the first time since school ended in June. Can you believe that two entire buildings appeared while I was gone? Well, maybe the foundations and frames were there, but they are now mostly finished, and the skyline of this tiny corner of suburbia is forever altered. By this time next year, I'm sure it will be new again.

I did finish Kristy Kiernan's Catching Genius and highly recommend it--all the way to the end. There were a few moments where the scenes regarding the main character's separation and pending divorce felt so real and painful (and slightly familiar), I felt a bit sick to my stomach. Some might consider that a bad thing ("Julie, why do you LOVE depressing books so much?!" Ha, just wait 'til they see what I'm writing!!), but I love a book that draws me in and allows me to experience the emotions along with the character. It's always nice when the story ends with great hope, though, and this one does.

Working on a self-imposed deadline on my manuscript so I can send it off to my expert, so I better get to work! How's back-to-school working for you? Seems like everyone feels the excitement, even when they don't have kids at home to remind them. It's just a frame of mind, I guess.

We interrupt this silence for an update

2008-08-23T23:34:00.005-05:00

Sorry for the radio silence lately. I've had family in town and was too busy having fun with them to think about blogging. I think that is a good thing. :0)

School starts next week and I'm gearing up to have the middles of my days free again for thinking about nothing but writing. Yee haw! I've received a partial critique and a full critique of my manuscript back from two critique partners and have my work cut out for me over the next week or so before I send it off to my "expert." Let's hope my hands aren't too weary from filling out the myriads of forms the schools require during the first week ... that are populated with exactly the same information as last year. Sigh. At least I only have two piles of them this year, much as it hurts my ego to admit I have a child in his second year of college. (I had him when I was five, of course, so I'm only 25. Snort!)

Awesome critiques received, though, with plenty of positive feedback, too. (YAY!) That light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter.

Speaking of positive feedback, I've been reading some books lately. Not like that's anything new, but I couldn't think of a better segue.

So, one I read last week totally flabbergasted me. Well-known author I've been fairly impressed with before, fascinating subject, and you'd think it would have been a great read. Not so much! This always puzzles me. It doesn't happen that often, but when it does, I really have to wonder what was going on with the writer during the writing and editing.

The writing itself really came up short. Seemed like every other sentence started with a ... um ... gerund phrase? Is that the right terminology? I can't remember what it's called, but it sure drove me nuts every time I saw it. You know, the "Looking out the window, she ..." or "Checking her watch first, he ...." thing. And ten bonus points goes to the reader who notices I started this very ~~paragraph~~ EDIT: section (sorry!) with one. Hehe! But gosh, this is just a blog, right? Besides the gerund crimes, the story just plain dragged, and the characters were pretty flat, IMHO.

Not naming any names, though. I'm giving the author the benefit of the doubt, and I checked it out from the library, so I didn't lose any money except for a fraction of a penny of taxpayer contributions, right? Let's hope the next one is a home run.

BUT ... (big but), there is this OTHER book I'm reading now. I'm only about 2/3 through, but I'm totally loving it. I checked it out from the library, too, but I would have gladly paid for it. It's the author's first and her second just came out, so I'll likely shell out the bucks for the new one.

The author I'm referring to here is Kristy Kiernan, and the book is Catching Genius. It seems like a lot of books about sisters or twins, their mysterious secrets, and strangely, MATH, are popping up these days, so when I first read the cover copy, I was like, "Hmm, another book about sisters, secrets, and math?" but I told myself to shut up and read it anyway, and I'm so glad I did. I started reading Thursday at 11, and by the time I finally switched off my tiny flashlight at 1:30 (cuz yeah, my husband actually has to get up in the morning and go to work, poor thing), I was half through. Haven't had much time to read since then, but I'm picking it up in any spare moment I can find. The writing is gorgeous, the story is mesmerizing, and darnit, I just can't stop turning the page!

I'd been reading Kiernan's blog (I think she's even commented here before) and have been marking time until her new release, Matters of Faith, came out, but Catching Genius was in at the library, and I'm so glad I went ahead and picked it up. I've rambled on long enough, but I think you should find it and read it, too. Great debut novel, and I can't wait to find Matters of Faith.

Best books for boys

2008-08-14T15:38:00.006-05:00

I just received an email. "Amazon's Best Books of the Year ... So Far"

We've had this discussion, but still, it rankles. Sixteen books listed in the body of the email, one written by a woman. A children's book.

Who's picking these books? That's what I'd like to know, but I have my suspicions. When you go to the web pages to see "more," one woman author is listed among the ten additional fiction picks. A Shannon wrote the first one listed, but he's a guy.

Needless to say, the nonfiction books were all by men. In best hidden gems, a female co-author (probably the main writer, but not the "expert") gets a nod.

And, of course, five of the ten total books for children/YA were written by women. Because we're so good at that.

My mom liked it, and other stories

2008-08-10T20:06:00.005-05:00

One of the cardinal sins while querying agents and editors is telling them, "My mom liked it." I'm going to avoid that sin by just doing it here. After all, it's my blog, right? :-D

A little more than a week ago, I sent my mom my manuscript by email. She read a little at her volunteer job the next morning (in which she answers phones and does other things as needed, so she has lots of time where she's just sitting, waiting) and when she got home she asked me to set up my old laptop where she could read more. She read all afternoon and evening and finished around 10 p.m. Yeah. My manuscript is about 425 pages at this point. I knew she was a fast reader, but seriously?

I asked if she read that fast to get it over with because she was falling asleep and bored out of her mind or if she actually liked it and couldn't stop reading. I am proud to say she answered the latter.

Since, I've heard her brag to a few people that it was really good. Now, I know what you're saying. It's your MOM, Julie. Of course she's going to like it. Well, yeah, of course she is, but at the same time, I do highly value her opinion. You are free to smirk here. :)

See, I come from a family of writers. Mom's greatest joy and my greatest trial as an adolescent were the stories she had published in national magazines. About me. Learning to drive. And other embarrassing moments. I'm taking revenge by blogging about my children in my other blog. At any rate, Mom was always attending some writing conference or another, watching the mail for those lovely rejection slips and the occasional acceptance check, going to critique group, and so on.

My brother has aspired as a novelist, screenwriter, and in more recent years, he's written and performed standup comedy on a regular basis. (And I get to edit his routines--now THAT is satisfying payback for countless years of sibling torture, let me tell you.)

When I approach Mom to read something I've written, I hold my breath because I know she's going to give me the lowdown. Always in a positive manner, but not 100% positive feedback.

When I sent her the manuscript last week, she knew nothing about it other than one of my main characters was a deaf teen. She knows exactly what you might know from reading my blog, because she gets her info the same place you do. It's been more than a year of living in the same house while I worked on this story, me sitting in the living room with my light shining into her room as I wrote and revised into the wee hours, and I was nervous about telling her about my story.

Apparently, it was nothing at all like she expected, but still ... she liked it. Wheeee! Well, other than the (few, non gratuitious) sex scenes, which normally wouldn't bother her at all, but apparently gave her the heebie jeebies because she knew I wrote them and that was just too weird to wrap her mind around. Heh. Sorry, Mom. (Hey, for the record, they gave me the heebie jeebies, too. So, ha.) Of course, she gave me lots of other feedback as well.

But, I proudly say here, where it doesn't really matter who smirks at me, My mom liked it.

I've noticed in Jodi Picoult's acknowledgements she always mentions her mother, Jane Picoult, as one of her first readers. Apparently, it hasn't hurt her. :)

In other news ...

1) I'm winding down the current set of revisions and maybe, just maybe, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Which is good, because I am sick and tired of this story, let me tell you. I'm brewing a new story in my brain and I'm eager to get started on it physically, but I really can't until I'm ready to query B/O.

2) I am excited about having identified an "expert" to vet the world building I've done for my deaf and Deaf and hard-of-hearing characters. (You'll understand why I state it like this once you've read my book or if you do a little research on your own!) I'm even more excited that she has agreed. And, of course, now I'm a nervous wreck and madly trying to be sure I've done my homework because I don't want to waste her time. She is *truly* an expert in the field and I'm humbled.

3) I can so identify with Carleen Brice's blog post from one day last week. I believe there are three main periods during the writing of a novel that are emotionally exhilarating, but also emotionally draining.

First, the honeymoon period: the initial state of euphoria when you are writing a new, exciting story, when you live, eat, and breathe the story and it makes you oh, so happy. In other words, the first 100 pages. :)

Second, when you are so close to the end, you can almost taste it, and you are racing to get there and you think of little else.

Third, and I'm there right now. The intense period of revisions. You've had a few people read your story, you know what needs to be done to improve it, there are some hard issues to work through, and you're sick and tired of these people who live in your head and ready to kick them out, but their lease hasn't expired yet. Too much togetherness, as I like to say.

It becomes difficult to do anything, including sleeping, showering, or something as simple as taking a walk without the story haunting you. Yes, literally haunting you, and not always in a pleasant way. There's been speculation about Heath Ledger's death and how much he took on the roles he was playing, and I can see a connection there between writers and actors. (Don't worry, I'm not in that deep.)

Carleen wrote last week that as writers, it's too easy to train ourselves to work 24 hours a day, even in our sleep--after all, we love what we do. But sometimes it's not healthy. She took a much needed break this summer because it was literally affecting her physical health.

Anyway, I find that this is most likely to happen during these three time periods. I'm ready to be in between for a while.

4) I did get my hands on a copy of the Lace Reader and I'm reading when my own characters give me a little break.

So, what about you? Does your mom like your story? Are your characters taking up all your oxygen? Are you simply a reader and worrying about my sanity? (Hi, Brenda.) Are you reading any good books?

Have a great week!

No Trailer Trash

2008-07-31T22:36:00.005-05:00

I was going to blog about one thing (me me me!), but I got distracted.

I'm not a huge fan of the book trailer. I should back up one step. I'm not a huge fan of the movie trailer. I do love previews in a theater, in fact, they're one of my favorite parts of the whole movie experience, but I rarely click on a trailer online to determine whether I'm going to see a movie. I'd usually rather just read the reviews and other promo info. On the other hand, if I really like a movie, I might go watch the trailers after I see it. (Once, anyone?) Gives me the warm fuzzies, sentimental fool that I am.

I've seen a few book trailers I thought were done well (Diane's Before the Storm trailer, for instance), and I'm sure others will improve over time as they become more and more a critical part of an author's promotion plan. Most of the ones I see now, though, honestly make me want to lie down and nap. They're usually too slow and just don't give me the kind of information I want to know when I'm considering whether to purchase.

But tonight, I went to the site for a book that released this week, The Lace Reader, and got chills as I watched the trailer. Now, I also watched another promo video on the site about the author, and the deal in Publisher's Lunch intrigued me months ago, so I was already engaged. The premise of the story seems an out-of-the-park home run, if you'll excuse me for using a sports metaphor for a story about lace.

Go watch it, and come back.

Something about the completely appropriate music (was this written specifically for this trailer?) and quick images combined with a sustained one, and just a hint of the story was pretty mesmerizing. (On the other hand, the next click to enter the website was not as intriguing. I don't like slow loading sites, no matter how pretty they are.)

What do you think? I'll be reading this book as soon as I can get my hands on it.

Are you my mother?

2008-07-25T13:09:00.001-05:00

In need of a good laugh?
Go read my post over at my family blog.

Who me? What? Where?

2008-07-20T22:37:00.003-05:00

I submitted a short memoir piece to a literary e-zine a few months ago. Friday morning, I woke in the wee hours thinking I ought to go check the site out because I hadn't heard anything and knew their current issue released last week. I hadn't really thought of it for several weeks and was curious what pieces they selected instead of mine.

Imagine my suprise when I went to their news blog from July 9, scrolled down the page, and saw my name and title in their announcement of the new issue's contents.

I booked on over to the e-zine and sure enough, there it was. I've been floating around for a few days feeling all bubbly and such, and realized tonight I should probably blog about it!

So, check it out ...

Perigee: Publication for the Arts

Click on "Current issue" at the bottom of the page, then "Memoir" on the left, and then my story is ...

Final Sale on Tires by Julie Layne. (It comes up in Flash--hope you have it)

This certainly can't hurt on the query letters. Whee! Perigee has had several Pushcart prize nominees, design awards, and various other honors in their six-year history, many recently, so I feel honored and humbled to have a simple story about my Grandma and her influence on me appear in the pages of this issue.

Got the RSS blahs?

2008-07-17T11:58:00.005-05:00

So, my experiment in RSS has truly changed my internet habits in the last three weeks. I'm not sure they're all for the better, though mostly that would be a matter of opinion.

I'm spending way less time surfing, which means more time to do other things, and thus, have gotten a decent amount done on revisions--though not sure how much more proportionately. (It's summer, the kids are home ...) But I also feel a weird sense of "disconnectedness" (is that a word?) from the folks whose blogs I've frequented over the months or even years in some cases.

It would seem, then, that doing this might increase productivity, but decrease a sense of relationship. Both of these are important things for a writer. All the books say to limit your time online to increase your productivity, but be sure not to isolate yourself from the world. Sure, I realize the point is to actually get OUT and see real people, talk to them, observe them, get your senses working, and so on. Because, how can you write a book about the world if you don't live in it? I get that.

But, there are also a limited number of writers in my "real world," and I miss that interaction. The element of surprise when I browse to a fellow writer's blog and see they've updated. My tendency to read their post with a sense of expectancy--there will be something I want to say back at least half the time. Not to exclude blogs of those who aren't writers, because I usually have a similar reaction. But, these are my "co-workers," my partners in crime, the people who "get" me, and believe me, there aren't that many of those people in the world if I do say so myself. :)

So, what's a girl to do? Right now, I feel like I'm reading a blog magazine every day. A magazine that magically gets new articles periodically throughout that day, but a magazine nonetheless. Magazines don't have names and faces that feel quite as tangible as a person's blog page. I can't "hear" the conversation that goes on after I read a magazine article like I can after I read a blog post that piques my interest, where I go to the comments and check them out. (I don't seem to do that as much, even though I can click to the actual post from the RSS delivery.)

I will have to think on this. What's the balance?

Are you finished yet?

2008-07-08T00:12:00.003-05:00

Finally finished my contract work and can really get back to into the swing of writing again. And blogging, even! Here's how my poor cat, Yentl, looked today while I was ignoring her for the fourth or fifth day in a row. I had to sit in a different spot in my house because I needed to be able to hear clearly from a recording, and she followed me, as always. I think she enjoyed watching for lizards outside the window, but she was trying to bite me tonight, so I think she's ready to get back to our old spot in the family room.

To see how my children dealt with it, go to my other blog.

Flying beneath the radar

2008-06-30T13:09:00.003-05:00

I finally got with the program and subscribed all my favorite blogs to the RSS feature that comes with Outlook 2007. In case you don't know what that means, basically my email program searches each time it checks mail for updates to the list of internet sites I've subscribed to, and delivers the item to my inbox, to a folder with subfolders for each site.

I notice it slows my computer and Outlook down a bit while it checks--about half a second for each blog, I think. That means for about 15-30 seconds every 10 minutes or so, my computer does a little extra thinking. Doesn't seem noticeable while I'm working. I wonder if there's even an option where I can have it check RSS feeds only once or twice a day.

The point is productivity and distraction. I anticipate seeing each day who has updated their blogs, what you had to say, and so on. As a work-from-home person, it is a way to have a bit of community during the quiet days. I feel I've gotten to know many of you bloggers pretty well this way, and with the added interaction of the comments, it even seems like I have "coworkers" many days. It's not a perfect system, but it beats total isolation for this writer, who loves quiet, loves working alone, but still gets lonely sometimes.

The miracle of RSS, though, means I can let my software do the checking. I'm not wasting big chunks of time several times a day clicking through my links and favorites to see who's put in an appearance, and that translates into more time to actually ... WRITE. Can't be a bad thing, right? I can also save entries that look interesting but I don't have time to read right then for later. I can also COLLAPSE the folder and ignore the fact that there are a bunch of new postings waiting for me to read until I give myself permission.

I think this will be a good thing. Of course, maybe every time I encounter a new blog I like, I'll add it to the feed and then I'll have five hundred gazillion entries to read every single day and it'll become counterproductive. But, I choose to think it's going to be positive.

So ... if you are a psycho stats checker and like to see where your traffic's coming from (cough, cough, I never do that, cough, cough), rest assured I'm still reading your blog, I'm just not showing up on your stats. If you are in the list on the right, you have a cozy new home in my Outlook folders. And not to worry, I love to leave comments, so if something strikes my fancy, I'll mosey over to the real thing and leave a praise, suggestion, deep thought, or snide remark. :)

That said, I'm curious how many folks read my blogs through RSS. Do you? Drop me a comment or email if you do and you aren't shy.

Now, back to work. I received the gift of a promising new critique relationship last week, and I've got work to do! Oh, yeah, and there's that contract work giving me ugly, jealous looks, too. (Go 'way!! Leave me alone! ;)

2008-06-25T23:17:00.002-05:00

The Journey
by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

---
Wow. Kerplowie. I am reduced to nonsensical words because I am so awed.

Back in the saddle

2008-06-23T17:19:00.003-05:00

But the brain hasn't arrived yet. Still waiting on the delivery. Post-vacation brain is a nightmare sometimes!

So, just a few tidbits. I am certainly glad Kristen and I went to California last week and not this. We enjoyed days in the low 80s. My brother is now "enjoying" the heat wave in the high 90s and low 100s. This seems normal in Texas, but it would have been horrible walking around Disneyland and other places in that.

I did find out I made it through the first round of judging in a flash fiction contest I entered last month. Not sure where that puts me as far as the total numbers of entrants go, but I was nonetheless ecstatic. Crossing my fingers I'll at least be a finalist/honorable mention! The guest judge is an agent from an agency at the top of my wish list, so if I rank high, that will be a plus for querying--which I hope I'm ready for by late summer. I've set ~~August 1st~~ September 1 as my goal, but that might be optimistic. (Edit: I forgot August was vacation month in publishing land.)

On a funny note, we saw LeeLee Sobieski (Joan of Arc, Eyes Wide Shut, The Glass House, Never Been Kissed, 88 Minutes) while checking in at LAX last week. I'm assuming she was on her way back to Chicago where she's filming Public Enemies with Johnny Depp. (Johnny Depp!!) The guy with the big camera on the other side of the cordon didn't phase me while we were waiting to go through security. I was too busy watching this tiny dog wandering around on the conveyor belt while waiting for its owner to go through. Then I was too busy waiting for my daughter to re-emerge from a stall in the restroom to recognize the pretty girl with the huge smile and quick laugh emerge from the one next to her right before I went in. Yes, stars do pee, apparently. (And dare I say, I thought it was kind of funny the other night when I realized I went in right after her? Ok, never mind. Forget I said that.)

So, I realized who she was just after she walked out. I pointed her out to my daughter as we passed the gate for the Chicago flight and said, "That's LeeLee Sobieski, an actress," and my daughter said, "Oh, that's the lady whose dog kept wandering around under my feet while I was in the potty."

HAHAHA!!! That explains the big smile and little laugh. I just thought she was really friendly. I also wondered if she thought I was stalking her while I stood outside the stall for ten minutes waiting on Kristen. Alas, it was just a harried mom who was a little slow on the uptake. And to think of all the other times I had my camera in hand the preceding eight days. Naw, I would have left her alone in the potty.

Anyway, it was kind of interesting to see that she was acually much prettier in real life than in photos and on the screen. I think sometimes it's the opposite.

Still just working on revisions. Have passed my story to reader number 2, and hope to widen that circle soon.

Just saying

2008-06-17T02:14:00.003-05:00

I'm still alive, I'm just in ...

Where my brother just escaped ...

Just kidding. He's really a pretty normal guy.

Spending time with him and a few more of my favorite guys ...

And one of my favorite girls ...

Not to mention the scenery.

See you when I get back.

In a word, I'm still not from around here

2008-06-10T02:00:00.004-05:00

My friend is reading my manuscript and we talked about it for an hour or so this afternoon. She paged through and mentioned things she'd noted, such as specific words that didn't work for her.

I grew up all around the country (and no, I wasn't a military brat--it was worse, I was a "PK," or preacher's kid). I learned and relearned slang and other vocabulary each time I moved, as well as changed my wardrobe to suit the bratty kids who teased me about my clothing, too.

When I came to Texas from Colorado to go to college, I had to learn to drop the g's from -ing verbs, because people laughed hysterically at my roommate and me when we were speakin' so formally. (She was from Denver, too.)

I learned to say y'all instead of you guys (but NEVER yous guys!!) as often as I could, although you guys has come into fashion even in the South finally, and I probably say it more often than y'all these days once again. I learned to say cokes instead of pop, and I am forever fixin' to do something rather than getting ready to, of course.

When I moved from Texas to Alabama for a couple of years, I learned that the plural of y'all is all y'all. I learned that when people called my two-year-old daughter groany they were really saying growny and that she was "You know, 'grown up' actin'," and not whiny. And that when she was ill, she was whiny, not sick, and didn't need tylenol for that. I was about ready to turn a lady in to child protective services when I asked what was wrong with her daughter, who had her head down and was covering her face, and she kept telling me, "Oh, nothin', she's just ill," but didn't seem interested in doing anything about it.

Anyway(s), you get the picture.

So, today, I learned I've been saying something all these years in Texas that nobody else says, and nobody has ever bothered to let me know until today.

Gail: I don't think a child from Texas would say "tennies." I didn't really know what you meant at first.
Julie: Huh? Tennies? You've never heard that?
Gail: Well, only from you. I think that might be a Colorado thing or something.
Julie: No way. Girls?! Come here (calling to daughters). What do you and your friends call your tennis shoes?
Girls: Tennis shoes? Maybe sneakers? Gym shoes? Athletic shoes?
Julie: Am I the only one in Texas who says "tennies"?
Girls: Yes. Except us, because sometimes we say it to you.

Oh. my. goodness. I had no idea.

But look. It is right here.

More than 20 years in Texas, and nobody ever set me straight until today.

By the numbers

2008-06-05T21:28:00.003-05:00

1: is the loneliest number. (If it ain't broke, don't fix it.)

2: Points of view in my story.

3: Number of the draft I start tonight.

4: Number of historical tie-ins to Waco I added to my manuscript this week.

1,604: The number of times the word "was" appears in my manuscript, according to Word. Do I have my work cut out for me or what? I can't get rid of every single one, but that's maybe a little over the top. (EDIT! Make that 1,382 after only a few hours of combing and replacing through about a third of the MS. Some of those was's are stubborn little suckers, though. They insist on staying. Unfortunately, there are also many instances of other "to be" verbs. Sigh.)

Still and all, it was a very good week for writing, in quality as well as quantity. I sent a new draft to my first reader, and though I know there's much to do, especially after my beta readers give me feedback, it just looked so purdy today I was all beaming and floating around.

I think if I were an already published writer, this is the point at which I'd whisk the thing off to my agent for a "Look! What do you think?" kind of read. As a "pre-published" writer, it needs to be well beyond that before I dream of sending even a query to an agent. Darn near perfect.

But, cripey, look how far my baby's come!

Quiet ...

2008-06-03T23:58:00.003-05:00

... means I'm getting a lot done on my manuscript. It's been a good week already, and it's only Tuesday! I have to hurry--tomorrow's the last day of school. What will I do with the monkeys out?

I started gathering some history of the town where my story's set yesterday. Perhaps this seems backwards, considering the first draft is already written, but it's too late to do it any differently. It's actually working out pretty well. I used the Handbook of Texas Online for a short history of Waco, and several of the themes present were reflective in strange ways of my story, so I was pleased. I'm not sure I would have recognized them before getting the story down.

To include the most obvious modern history of the Waco area or not ... that is the question. Still contemplating that one. (Don't want to mention the actual details here--I get too many random visitors when I do silly stuff like that. If you haven't remembered already, it has to do with an odd religious sect and a lot of people dying.)

The layering and detail work is a lot more fun than I thought it would be, though.

Cleaning out the pantry

2008-05-28T23:10:00.003-05:00

That's what we're doing this week. We took a short family trip over the holiday weekend and spent more dinero eating out than we normally do, of course. (Watch for blog post and photos on my other blog.) Between those expenditures and a quick trip to the store for necessities (i.e., my husband's coffee, yoghurt, and English muffins, and my diet drinks, salad greens, and one green apple, plus stuff to grill kabobs that night), we maxed out our weekly grocery money. Not to mention nobody felt like making a list, and this family never grocery shops without a list or it throws Todd into spasms.

So, I told him yesterday I was doing a Clean Out the Pantry Week. This novel idea came up some time ago when I made fun of Todd for going to the grocery story every single Sunday even when the food supplies looked good to me. He is just a creature of habit, and while I dearly love this about him because it keeps the house running, I also take some amusement in it. That day, I bet him I could create meals for at least a week, if not two, with only what we had on hand. And I did. Well, Of course. (Hey, I don't make bets I can't keep; I'm a sore loser!)

A couple of great things about Clean Out the Pantry Week:

First, it's amazing to see how much you really do have on hand and how long you could probably survive without a trip to the store. Second, it's fun to come up with more creative meals than you might otherwise. Normally, Todd and I (heavy on the Todd) make menu plans for the week, he buys the ingredients, and more often than not since I'm at home full-time, I cook, or at least get dinner started and we finish together. BUT (big but), I personally enjoy throwing random things together to make a meal. Okay, not always, but during COTP week, I do, I do! It's so ... freeing. Living on the edge.

Yesterday, I discovered a can of Manwich in the back of the pantry and knew we had frozen hamburger in the garage, so I figured we were all set. We didn't have buns, but who really needs buns? If all else failed, we had a loaf of bread. But ... we also had a leftover loaf of cheesy crusty artisan bread from Monday night. The wheels started turning, and it turns out Sloppy Joes on toasted leftover fufu bread are really tasty. Side of mac 'n cheese, can of green beans, and VOILA: dinner. Not many points for healthy, but I did use lots of colors, and my home ec teacher always liked that.

Tonight, I suspected we would have chicken nuggets, and my intuition was correct. But do you know how delightful chicken nuggets taste on a bed of salad greens garnished with sliced hardboiled eggs, bleu cheese, and crispy wonton strips? (Again, who needs healthy when it's COTP week?) And fruit salad a la our house--fruit cottontail, as Ryan called it when he was little, mandarin oranges, sliced bananas, and mini marshmallows.

Tomorrow is likely to be something with frozen chicken breast as supposedly, there are some of those in the garage. The marinade remains a mystery until the moment of submersion, and side dishes? Pshaw, there are so many waiting to be discovered, I will sleep soundly tonight.

Then it's Friday, and we never cook on Friday, so la-ti-da, I win again!

You see? COTP week 1 is no great sacrifice, and in fact, I think it's kinda fun. I am easily amused. Week 2 could be a bigger challenge if we don't get motivated to make that list.

And ... I'm going somewhere with this, for those of you who are wondering what this has to do with writing. Well, as I'm fond of saying, "In writing, as in life ..."

In writing, as in life, sometimes it's a good idea to do Clean Out the Pantry Week. I've had such an opportunity this week. I came across a flash fiction contest that looked interesting and offers money prizes! Woot! (I've always wanted to use that word. It felt good.) And the deadline is fast approaching. Like, Saturday.

Now, flash fiction isn't as time consuming as, say, a NOVEL, but it isn't just throwing a story of the top off your head either. Flash fiction generally indicates a story with the minimum number of words to get the point across while still making use of imagery, sensory detail, and other writerly devices. Length may vary, but this particular contest calls for 250-500 words. Uh huh, I know what you're saying:

Dearest Julie, you have written more than 500 words in this blog post alone.

Why yes, dear reader, brevity is not my strong suit, I admit freely. I can be brief. It is true, however, that it's more time consuming for me to be brief than to run long.

So, I decided to clean out the pantry.

I keep a file folder with all the writing I've done since I started getting "serious" about this writing thing. Even if it's no more than a blank document with a title, or a page with song lyrics pasted in that I think might inspire a story (which doesn't really qualify as "writing done," but you get the point). I have sub folders, and sub-sub folders, and it's really quite organized. Much more so than my personal areas of the house. Anyway, I have a sub-sub folder for flash fiction. I've written several of these tiny stories over the last few years, and periodically I pull them out and brush them off and tweak their noses, never knowing when I might submit one.

So guess what was in my pantry? A never-before-submitted story I believe is a great fit for this contest. I fiddled with it last night for a while, sent it to a critique friend, fiddled with it a little more today, sent it to another critiquer, and am waiting for more feedback. Before Saturday, it should be ready to go.

And the moral of this story is:

You don't always have to write something brand new when you see a contest or a call for submissions. Sometimes the perfect piece is right there, hiding in the back of your pantry.

A whole new world every day on the Internet

2008-05-20T14:26:00.007-05:00

This really is gonna be short today. You will believe it when you see it. (I know what you're saying.)

I've found some really great websites in the past week for writers. I mean, really, really great. Transforming-my-WIP-in-moments kind of great. And to think, I've seen recommendations for some of these before and ignored them.

First up, I found Flogging the Quill via Writer Unboxed. Ray Rhamey (which makes me think of my brother--we call him Raymy!) asks would-be writers to send in the first chapter ~~and synopsis~~ of their fiction manuscript. He then takes the first 16 lines, equivalent to a first page, and flogs it--aka reads and critiques. Passing the Flogometer means the reader would probably keep reading. He has a "show, don't tell" game, too, but not many people take advantage of it. Either way, his critiques are amazing. I've made slight changes here, dramatic changes there in my WIP, and can already tell a difference based on his suggestions to other writers. OK, this is supposed to be short, so go see for yourself. Writer Unboxed itself is another good resource.

Book-Ends Literary Agency has a blog. They do lots of interactive stuff with writers on pitches, queries, and so on. Hands on, useful stuff.

Query Shark. This one just makes me laugh. And I mean that in the very nicest way. When I read the majority of queries people send in for critique, I have hope I'm going in the "write" direction. I couldn't help reading some of them out loud to my husband the other night. He doesn't even give a rip, and *he* saw it. There is also helpful feedback ... even on the ridiculous ones. The agent gives them her best shot, regardless. After she laughs.

So, go, visit, see and do.

OOPS. I forgot. I also finally joined Backspace. Lots of free stuff from the homepage, and the $30 per year subscription to the forums has already paid off for me after reading posts on a guest forum for an agent I'm eyeing.

Is it butter yet?

2008-05-15T14:03:00.004-05:00

Last night, I worked on a query letter for my manuscript. I'm not ready to query agents yet, and in fact, it might still be months before I am, but I've done "practice" letters periodically while I've written this story. It's a good way to monitor how the book is going—the stronger it is, the clearer the main ideas become, and the easier it is to write a query.

It's interesting to see how the information I've included in my practice queries has evolved. The synopsis paragraphs and "big idea" sentences were much easier to write this time around, and that's encouraging.

It means I'm doing the right work in my revisions to identify what's most important in the story so I can ramp it up, capitalize on it, make it crystal clear.

It also means I'm doing a better job at separating the stuff that doesn't belong and removing it to safe keeping where it might be useful for another story in the future—or tossing it out when I realize it's complete garbage. (Such as when I'm reading dialogue and my own snoring wakes me up a few minutes later ...)

If you think about it, it's a clarification process not unlike clarifying liquids or fats for cooking. Look at these definitions for "clarify" from chefdepot.net:

CLARIFY
To remove sediment from a cloudy liquid, thereby making it clear. To clarify liquids, such as stock, egg whites and/or eggshells are commonly added and simmered for approximately 15 minutes. The egg whites attract and trap particles from the liquid. After cooling, strain the mixture through a cloth-lined sieve to remove residue.

To clarify rendered fat, add hot water and boil for about 15 minutes. The mixture should then be strained through several layers of cheesecloth and chilled. The resulting layer of fat should be completely clear of residue.

Clarified butter is butter that has been heated slowly so that its milk solids separate and sink, and can be discarded. The resulting clear liquid can be used at a higher cooking temperature and will not go rancid as quickly as unclarified butter.

None of these is an especially quick process. Each has different steps and leads to a specific refined product. Do you want liquid, fat, or butter? While there's always room for a quick, refreshing drink or a lazy, fat read in the market, I want to sell clarified butter.

Each process involves heating the original product, but if you want clarified butter, you can't just boil it quickly. You have to "heat slowly." You want to carefully increase the tension until the milk solids—the original "baby food" you produced—separate and fall away from the resulting clear product.

A story that can withstand higher criticism. It can take the heat. And it has a longer shelf life.

Wow, didn't really mean to go all philosophical on you. Sometimes even when I blog, the process I go through to post it on the page teaches me something.

I really only intended to tell you about my cool query letter. :-)

Beach Music to my ears

2008-05-11T23:06:00.004-05:00

When's the last time it took you a month to read a book? WAIT. Don't answer that. The real question is, when's the last time it took me a month to read a book? A fairly modern, fiction, popular author, page-turner kind of book.

Not nonfiction. Those sometimes take me years because I have this bad habit of randomly flipping to a page that looks interesting and starting there, reading until I'm bored, then starting somewhere else the next time. Harder to do that with fiction.

Not classics, which I'm trying to "catch up" on so late in life. And I was even an English major in college. I went for as many classes involving modern lit or creative writing as I could get away with. Some of my worst college memories took place in BS&K ... Byron, Shelley, and Keats. Or was it BK&S? Dr. VD, as we fondly called our professor behind his back (Dr. VanDevender to his face), truly cured me of any love I *might* have developed for those three unfortunate fellows.

Now I'm discovering and rediscovering some of the "greats" on my own terms and in my own timing. Currently engrossed in Jane Austen's Mansfield Park (because you have to be pretty engrossed to read around the pretty language and find the story!) and I've been working on it about six weeks. I'm all the way to page 71, I believe. On the other hand, I read Kate Chopin's The Awakening before that and finished it in only a day or two. That was some truly fascinating reading. Can't believe I missed that one.

But where was I? Oh, yes. I've finally arrived at the last chapter of Pat Conroy's Beach Music. Yep, the one and same book that went into the emergency tornado basket several weeks back.

Has it taken me a month because it's a horrible, stilted, wordy, incredibly long and boring book that I still insist on finishing? (I have been known to do that. I'm one of those weird people who can't stand to not finish a book, because I've just got to find the redeeming value that allowed it to be published.)

Nope, it's not that. It is incredibly long for commercial fiction (more than 600 pages), although it has a seriously literary bent. But, I can usually read two to four books, three to four hundred pages each in a normal week.

Horrible? NO! Stilted? NO! Wordy. Maybe ... but what beautiful words they are. The thing is, this book has taught me more about different cultures, different eras, different people, different historical events in ONE volume than I might have in my usual 8 or 12 books a month.

This is the only one of Conroy's novels not to have been made into film, I believe. (Hang on, let me go check that out to be sure! I'm back .... I think that's correct.) I completely understand how impossible it would be to make this story into film, and yet one of the subplots is that the characters have been hired to write a mini-series about their story.

It's more like 20 stories in one. And somehow, as different as each is from the others, they all enterwine magically, not creating an episodic feeling (the death knell for the middle grade fiction story I attempted a few years ago), but somehow maintaining a slow, increasing tenstion, building to a conclusion I have yet to read. I've come this far, I don't see how I could possibly be disappointed. Something tells me the conclusion will have turtles.

Twice this weekend, I retold the story of the main characters' experience with a larger-than-life manta ray in a small boat in the open ocean. My husband saw the book lying on the edge of the tub the other day (can't remember why, haven't read in the tub in years!) and I said, "Oh, that book is mesmerizing."

He said, "Beach Music? Sounds like a romance!" I don't read much traditional romance, and he knows it. I flipped it over and showed him the photo of Conroy and said, "Romance? I don't think so. You would even like this book." Then I told the manta ray story.

Told the same story to my son this weekend. I mentioned that what was so crazy about that story was exactly that. It was crazy! But, I raced through the pages, my heart pounding, believing every minute of it.

A string of Holocaust stories runs throughout, and they were so vivid and horrible, I've had to put the book down several times until I had enough energy to pick it up again.

So, what am I saying here? Maybe that you shouldn't wait any longer to read this book, too? (It's already 13 years old, why waste any more time?) Maybe that I hope if you do, you are as mesmerized by this master of metaphor, this king of storytellers? That you won't want to throw it across the room, even if it takes you a month or longer?

I think mainly I want to say this is a book I will be remembering and thinking about for a long, long time. I don't usually review books I haven't even finished yet.

Gush, gush

2008-05-05T23:10:00.007-05:00

Elizabeth Berg is one of my favorite authors. On her blog the other day, she mentioned she was providing a link from her website to a collection of essays, Domestic Epiphanies, written by one of her best friends, Phyllis Florin. I'm working on building a repertoire of essays along with writing fiction, so I decided to take a gander, figuring Berg's recommendation was a good one.

I'm so glad I did. Not only are these essays similar to the ones I'm attempting to write in style (relaxed, down to earth, I hope!) and content--family, friendships, life in general--they are also captivating. I've already read about half of the 14 Florin has posted.

I stopped to write this blog entry. The essay I just finished reading, Buddies, is a tribute to friendship, and one of the more painfully honest looks at true friendship I've encountered, especially among writer friends. Florin works her way through the history of a friendship that started out faintly ambiguous, then morphed into something honest and true in an instant, and has peaked again and again at those honest moments. A celebration of the positive and the negative and their contributions to a true, lasting friendship.

And ... I'm thinking the object of the essay might just be Elizabeth Berg. I already admire Berg's honesty and transparency in her books and blog, but now what a pleasant surprise to read about it from the perspective of her best friend.

If you're a Berg fan, check it out here.

And Elizabeth, if you happen to read this, and the essay's not about you, you could leave me a comment. Or, you could just leave me to wallow in my blissful ignorance. :-D

I can't wait to get my hands on Berg's recent release:
The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted And Other Small Acts of Liberation

Jobs writers/editors/proofreaders should not do

2008-05-01T23:15:00.003-05:00

Did I mention that writers who are also editors and proofreaders should not mop?

Last weekend, I decided to sweep and mop our Texas-sized bathroom floor, a job my husband usually does adequately in about 15 or 20 minutes. Both parts. It only took me two days. Well, not all day each day, but it took all the housecleaning energy I had each day. I had nothing left for anything else.

Vacuuming. Well, you know, there are those little protrusions on the door panels ... and the tops of the light fixtures ... and, obviously, the baseboards ... and the tops of the door frames. Blinds. The little rubber rests on the bottom of the scale. It is possible to vacuum a bathroom from ceiling to floor. I know.

The mopping might have gone okay if I hadn't called Todd while he was grocery shopping (which is a whole 'nuther problem for me) to ask how he got up the stubborn spots. Oh, yeah! Scrub brush. It really works well on the grout between the tiles, too. There was stuff between those tiles I swear had been there for much too long. Too bad I didn't know about the brush when I did the first pass. Of course, all that extra yuck that came up with the brush wouldn't possibly rinse away with just one more pass. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I'm not O/C, I promise. But, this is why I am only allowed to vacuum and mop the bathroom quarterly.

Little surprises

2008-04-28T00:24:00.007-05:00

No, I'm not pregnant. So not pregnant. :0) Not THAT kind of little surprise.

Remember I said something about looking for "what surprises" in a post last week at some point? Well, I'm been looking for them. I'm wondering if there are less surprises when you look for them, though. I mean, it kind of takes away the element of surprise if you're looking for one, right? I did find a few. Rather than post in list format, I think I'll just ramble. I'm good at it. (No surprise, right?)

Friday evening, we thought we'd try a new restaurant. We live, seriously, in the chain food capital of the world. I've heard they pilot food franchises here in our area because we have the highest per capita eating out population. Or something like that. So, we've made it our goal as a family for the last several years to try weird little family owned or off-the-track restaurants, with some misses and some hits. For a long time, we did Mexican, trying to find a really good one, but we finally gave up. We do not care to recall our last attempt. Since then, we've stuck with tried and true, if mostly adequate.

The place we went Friday was kind of a chain, but a chain local to DFW. Todd and I went to one in Dallas a few months back, the food was pretty good, and we'd seen the ads for the one more local to us. Shall we say it was interesting, and that is no understatement? We shall.

It's an Italian place specializing in Egyptian pizza (Huh? Yeah. Oval, very thin, cut into strips, pepperoni nowhere in sight.) We did get pizza, and it was pretty good, although not as good as the NY strip steak with "special butter sauce" and fettucini alfredo we had in Dallas. The girls (my daughter and her friend) stuck with the traditional and oh-so-Italian cheeseburger and fries. The fries were cottage sliced, which puzzled them a bit (read: got eaten by the adults).

These were greatest surprise elements: (oh, I guess I WILL make a list. A short one.)

1) When I called to get specific directions (I was hoping for an intersection), the guy told me it was in the same parking lot as Show-time Caberet. Hmm, perhaps that should have been a warning. The small town where it's located has a great reputation for these establishments, but we didn't expect it to be quite so ... close. (EDIT: Spelling incorrect on the business name. Leaving it that way on purpose to keep the vultures away. My traffic already increased dramatically this morning as a result of this post, and I wondered if that would happen! Creeps.)

The truth is, the restaurant is in the same BUILDING as SC. The unisex restroom, in fact, shares a WALL with SC. The girls were fascinated by the loud, pounding music coming from the other side of the wall. We tried to explain that it was a bar of sorts, and they said it sounded like dance music. We said, well, yes ... and told my 10-year-old's friend to explain to her parents later that we did not intend to take her to a restaurant that shared a parking lot, building, or restroom wall with a bar where there was lots and lots of, um, unusual dancing going on. :)

2) The restaurant in Dallas probably seated 100 or so. This location had a "capacity 49" sign, but only about 7 tables, maybe 30 seats max. Definitely geared for the small town crowd. (Perhaps the between dances crowd.) When we got there, the only lighting was flourescent strips over the cooking area, which was walled off by a shoulder high partition. It was about 8 p.m., so it was nearly dark outside already, but there was no lighting at all over the tables. Todd whacked me on the head with his menu at one point when he said I was stealing his light from the kitchen while he was trying to read. After we'd been there about 30 minutes, the one waitress came around and lit the little oil lamps on the tables. Up to that point, we were quite literally in the Twilight Zone.

Anyway, that was so weird it was funny. Lots of surprises.

That was Friday night. Friday morning, I was on my way to pick up girls from swim team and transport them to school when a low billboard on the country lane I was driving caught my eye. I didn't notice it until I was almost past, but I swear it said, "Paranormal Investigations." I did a double take, but it was too late. When the girls got in the car I asked them to remind me to read the sign again when we drove past. We were all psyched, ready to be really amazed and taken aback by a paranormal investigations agency in our sleepy little middle school neighborhood.

But, tell me, doesn't this look like Paranormal Investigations if you look at it really fast while swinging your head?

But before I solved that mystery, I was waiting at a stoplight behind a big ol' truck carrying something. The logo on the back of the truck indicated it was Hardox. It said, "Hardox in my body."

I don't know what Hardox is, but it was brown, runny, and streaming out of the back at a rapid pace. If they wanted to keep claiming they had Hardox in their body, they needed to plug up those slits fast.

And those ... are my little surpises. I might ought to get back to beauties.

From the trenches

2008-04-25T17:18:00.004-05:00

We're in the midst of Texas tornado season. When it's tornado season in Texas, you've gotta be prepared, right?

I have this little O/C routine when the television radar says bad weather is approaching. You can't miss it--it's like a national crisis. All the tv stations go to special weather reports. Usually, the radio stations igore it, though. I haven't figured that out. Oh, and the sirens don't always sound, as I've mentioned. Perhaps the always elusive "they" figure the world is glued to American Idol, anyway, so other warning systems are irrelevant.

Wednesday night, we got the radar reports and I started my routine. I am convinced if I follow it to the letter, the bad weather will pass, leaving us unscathed. So far, it's worked, so I say it's a good routine, even if my husband thinks I'm a little off.

Here's how it works. I fill a small laundry basket with the things I would miss most if my house fell down around me. Into the basket goes my laptop computer and charger, my external hard drive with old files and photos, my purse with my i.d., cards, and cell phone, my old cell phone that functions like a tiny flashlight, and, of course, my wedding and honeymoon albums.

I place the basket in the floor of the laundry room. (The amount of faith I put in the laundry room is nothing to be sneezed at. If it's in the laundry room, it will be fine, okay?) I have an additional plastic tub full of other family pictures, and it slides in beside the laundry basket. If these things survive, along with my husband and children, all will be well. Nearly everything else can be replaced.

Well, this year, I've started adding additional items to the basket as time allows. I mean, if you've got 20 minutes until the storm arrives, why not add a pair of tennies? Socks? Favorite pillow. Water bottle. All practical stuff, right?

When the warnings pass, I unpack everything, and life goes on. If the weather is iffy for the next day or so, I'll sometimes leave the things I don't immediately need in the basket. Takes less energy to pack the next time.

So, we had that kind of night Wednesday. Todd was out of town, and we talked on the phone about how everything had calmed down again, but the rest of the week was sketchy. I went back to my regularly programmed computer surfing and eventually headed for bed. I usually read for a while before I go to sleep, but couldn't remember where I'd put my books.

I'd taken them along to the girls' piano lessons earlier that afternoon, and thought I remembered bringing them in the house along with the fast food we always get when Todd's out of town. Alas, they weren't in the usual spots I drop things.

Oh, well, I thought, I'll get them out of the car tomorrow.

I grabbed another book (after all, I'm reading about 30) and read it instead.

Yesterday, I never made it to my car. Didn't have carpool duty at any time of the day for a change, so never emerged from the house. Late last night, I wanted to read again, and was so frustrated with myself for waiting until it was too dark and creepy outside again to check the car.

Oh, well, I thought, I'll get them out of the car tomorrow.

A few minutes later, I was distracted by other things, but walked by my little emergency laundry basket. Huh, I thought. I had never unpacked the extras. Tennies ... socks ... hard drive ... bottle of water ... yep ... all there. And ...

Pat Conroy's Beach Music. Donald Maass's Writing the Breakout Novel.

I would like to flatter these two men by saying theirs are the two most important books in my life. Unfortunately, it would be a lie. What it boils down to is I get bored sitting anywhere with nothing to do. I always take a book. I guess in my reasoning the other night, I figured if the house fell down around us, I'd be happy to have the two books I was most engrossed in while we were sitting in a shelter.

Or maybe if the tornado was only an F1 or F2, I'd read until it was over.

For me, art does imitate life

2008-04-21T09:19:00.007-05:00

I should be asleep, considering I went to bed around 3 a.m. after working on a contract deadline and got ~~upt~~ up at 7:30 for carpool duty. I'm sure it will soon hit me that I only had 4.5 hours of sleep and I will pursue my second shift.

But for now ...

Todd and I had a little 5th anniversary getaway this weekend, all the way to Southlake, about 30 miles from home. We made a stop Saturday night at the Ft. Worth Main Street Arts Festival before returning home. We wanted to check out the Quebe Sisters Band, so we got our cheesecake to go from the Cheesecake Factory. If you think this was a brilliant idea, remind me to remind you, it was not. The normally delightful desserts were warm and squishy by the time we drove 45 minutes, looked for parking for 30, and walked another 30. Ewww. Anyway, I digress.

Those Quebe girls can certainly play fiddle and sing swing. I've read about them in the paper for years, and it was nice to finally get a chance to see them live. Looks like they'll be at the Scottish Fest this summer, too.

When they finished, we decided to stroll up Main and check out some of the art booths before they closed (which, as it turns out, was about five minutes later), and I noticed something interesting. Whenever I'm at something like the arts fest, or an art museum, or in a store with art or books about art, I am inevitably drawn to the photographs. I enjoy other mediums as well, but the photos draw me like paper clips to magnets. I can stare at a photo for a long time, as my family will attest, just checking out the details, thinking about what might have been going on in or out of the frame.

And then it occurred to me that I've always told people how, when I was a child, I was never really that interested in cartoons. I had a few favorites--the Jetsons or the Flintstones--but on Saturday mornings, I always counted the minutes until the CBS Children's Film Festival began. When Kukla, Fran, and Ollie introduced a short film, I couldn't wait to see what it was about that week. Real kids, real lives.

In the same vein, I have never been a big reader of fantasy or sci/fi. I enjoyed the Chronicles of Narnia (who didn't?), and a few other stories that had some fantasy elements, but overall, I've always wanted real stories about real people in real situations. To this day, I can't wait to sink my teeth into a book that details the dilemmas of people who could be real.

And at the theater? Do you see me shelling out the bucks for Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings or the Matrix? Only under duress. Todd and I went to see Smart People this weekend, and while it was really quite sad overall, I liked it. It resonated with me, well beyond the two hours in the theater. For instance, one of the poignant lines that stuck with me was when Lawrence (Dennis Quaid) said to his daughter Vanessa (Ellen Page), "You don't seem happy." Vanessa answered, "You're not happy, and you're my role model." I like it when things make me think hard. That made me think hard.

And guess what I'm writing? Stories about real people and real lives and real situations ... or they could be, anyway.

What about you? Are there parallels between other art mediums you love the most and what you typically read or write?

Or ... am I just boring? (DON'T ANSWER THAT OUT LOUD!!)

I'll try to get back to recording some of my "beauties" this week, but maybe using some different tactics. An article I read about essay writing last week suggested watching for what surprises you every day, so this week, I'm watching for surprises.

That's my boy

2008-04-17T23:27:00.002-05:00

If you go here, to my other blog (where I talk mostly about my family and other silly stuff that comes to mind), you can read all about what happened last night, as evidenced in the photo in the post below! Figured I'd take up a little less of my space doing it this way because there are more pics.

Dreams can come true

2008-04-17T02:22:00.004-05:00

Too tired to say more, but too giddy to sleep, so for now, I'll leave you with this:

So proud.

Good together

2008-04-13T22:53:00.005-05:00

Latest writing news...
I never got a printout from Office Depot for assorted silly reasons, but I finally printed my manuscript to PDF Friday and started reading it that way. I could NOT leave stuff alone otherwise. The result is I had only made it through about 80 pages in about two weeks. My original plan was to read it straight through after making a few big fixes, just to get a gut reaction to the whole story now that it's fermented for a while. But no, the editor part of me just goes a little crazy given the opportunity.

On PDF, I have the ability to highlight passages that bug me, and I can use the commenting tool here and there if I want to, but it sure is less tempting. So, we'll see what happens this week. I ought to be able to get through the whole thing before Friday, I'd think, although I did take on a little contract editing work this week just for kicks. (Yeah, the money's nice, too.) That should only take me a few hours, maybe four at the most.

So, to those of you who have asked lately about the book--
First, thanks for asking. Really. It means a lot to me. And ... that's the status. Not much to report, but it's going well, little by little.

Moving on to my beauties. Seems like in Spring, everything and everyone wants to pair up. As I've driven or walked in the neighborhood the last few days, the things that have jumped out at me are all the things in twos. I guess the beautiful weather (between storms, anyway) and optimism that come with Spring just make us want to get together with others and celebrate it. Like ...

1) The trees whose branches meet above my head in the street, touching leafy fingers and noses and ears as they gossip about what's going on below.

2) The older couple out for their daily constitutional, dressed in their matching sweatsuits and walking a pair of matched poodles.

3) Two carloads of teenaged boys, stopped at an intersection with their windows down, hollering about where they're headed.

4) A father and preschool son, pulling weeds together in a yard, the dad with an overflowing sack, the boy with enough pride on his face to make up for his mostly flat one.

5) A girl and boy, about five years old, taking synchronized scooter rides down a driveway, over and over. Each time, yelling "Bombs away!"--a tiny, but welcome speck of innocence in our war-weary world.

How about you? When it's Spring, who do you want to hang out with?

(Hey, April's nearly half over. If you're sick of the beauties, we're halfway there! But I still challenge you to pay attention to what's around you, every single day.)

I know you're good for me

You change me like the weather

You change me for the better

We're good together

(David Wilcox/Good Together)

Everyone knows it's Windy

2008-04-10T21:46:00.006-05:00

Look how early it is and I'm blogging. How did the planets align to make that happen?

Well, I'll tell ya, it was just craziness in our part of the world, and after I brilliantly stayed up until 2:30 this morning watching that movie then reading for another hour, DFW fell apart. Was up again from 3:30 until about 4:15 with tornado warning-ness. The -ness because as excited as our tv stations get about bad weather, it is often highly confusing who exactly is under a warning, especially since the sirens in our area have the lovely reputation of malfunctioning.

Some of our neighbors were hidden in closets and laundry rooms, others were sound asleep without a care in the world (which would have been the correct choice, in retrospect). We, in our household, were somewhere in the middle. I was awake watching the tv after dragging the girls downstairs to sleep on the couches, until or unless it was deemed appropriate to move to an interior space and put pillows over our heads. Todd was asleep with a pillow over his head because tornadoes and tornado warnings don't phase him. Not one bit. I think Mom was watching her tv, too.

At any rate, in our neighborhood we lost a few leaves off our trees, and that was the extent of our excitement other than lack of sleep. (Thank goodness. Many others, unfortunately, were not so lucky.)

Moving on to swim team tryouts, which were of course from 6:45 to 7:45 this morning, was no less exciting. After much confusion and trauma involving identifying the correct date and obtaining the proper paperwork from our family doctor, Emilie arrived at her big event WITHOUT it. So, yeah, at 6:15 this morning, I was making the 30-minute trip down to the pool with the paper. We were carpooling, and I was on the pick-up end, so I just stayed until time to take the girls to school at 8.

Needless to say, I slept today. Not enough, though, so I'll be hitting my z's much earlier tonight.

And the subsequent topic for today's beauties?

Wind.

At 4 a.m., the wind was not beautiful. Not at all. In fact, it was downright ugly. But at 4 p.m., on yet another chauffeur run, it was strangely fascinating. We had an absolutely gorgeous, sunny day, about 90 degrees and blue skies. And here's what I found in the field behind Emilie's school while I waited an hour for her to come out after her call that she'd be ready in "ten minutes." (Sigh.)

1) A field of plump white clover, so dense that when the wind swept across, it looked like a huge crowd of tiny spectators, wearing white gloves and applauding in the air.

2) The thick stand of trees at the back of the field dipped and swayed in unison, like a gospel choir.

3) Single trees in close-up view blurred like impressionistic paintings.

4) An 8th grader exited the school, and every single paper in her binder flew up, out, and away. She and her friends screamed hysterically and chased down as many as they could. It was emergency teamwork, and surprisingly joyful. They laughed their heads off the whole time, and each time they repeated the story to newly arrived friends over the next ten minutes, it got bigger and better.

5) This is more bizarre than beautiful, but still worth mentioning. The lovely purple wisteria vines? Today, after the storm, not a single blossom remained. Forgotten again until next spring. The lesson here? Beauty is fleeting! (I didn't write that.) Enjoy it while you can.

Who's tripping down the streets of the city

Smilin' at everybody she sees?

Who's reachin' out to capture a moment?

Everyone knows it's Windy

("Windy"/the Association)

Wanna be a part of history? Join The Cult of Sincerity

2008-04-10T00:53:00.007-05:00

I have only one beauty to report tonight. I happened to get an e-newsletter from a favorite singer/songwriter, Jake Armerding, earlier this evening. He mentioned two of his songs were featured in an independent film that released today (well, EDIT ~~yesterday~~, actually--April 8th, two days ago. I was mixed up on dates last night!).

Cool, I thought, way to go Jake! On closer inspection, I saw that the movie premiered on youtube. Whaaaaaa?????

Yep, this little film, The Cult of Sincerity, premiered on youtube.com

People in the publishing business are always talking about the newest technology coming down the pike to deliver books to the public. The Kindle, an electronic reader from Amazon, has been a hot topic for the last several months. There is the great debate--will paper books ever completely go away? And most writers say with righteous indignation, "NO WAY." We love our paper books, we do.

On the other hand, most published authors also realize they have to embrace new technologies if they want to stay in the game. There are legitimate fears, though. What if suddenly it's all free on the internet? How will writers make any money (not that they make much to begin with)? Who will be motivated to write if it's all free anyway? Will it be supported by advertising? Tough questions, indeed, and of course, only time will tell. The Kindle, by the way, isn't cheap. It's $399, but it's currently sold out on Amazon!

So, here it is, April 8, 2008 (yesterday) and the first full-length feature film ever debuted on youtube is out there. When I checked, there were over 6,000 views. Did every person watch the full movie, as I did? Hard to say, but it certainly generated some buzz in ~~one day~~ two days on youtube.

At any rate, I did watch the whole thing. I thought I'd check out a few minutes, and if I was engaged, I'd watch the first quarter, then watch more tomorrow. But, soon, I *was* engaged, and watched the whole thing. I won't lie and say I didn't surf a little while I watched, and yet. It was pretty good, quality wise, and it had a great message. I was glad I glanced at a few comments below the viewer that said the first scene was a little jerky, but to keep watching, because that was true.

The cool thing here, though, is how the producers, two fairly unknowns from NYC, are making money. They ask viewers to visit amiestreet.com, an independent music outlet, purchase song credits for three bucks, then they can download the full movie, get songs, and on top of all that, Fount of Mercy, a nonprofit that links Western organizations with groups who provide orphan care in Africa, gets two dollars, too. I guess the theory is that people sign up with amiestreet.com and will return, and they will make their money back. (I might have the details mixed up--listen to their blurb at the beginning of the film yourself.)

Creative marketing using new technologies? I'd say so. Who loses?

So, be a part of history, go check out The Cult of Sincerity. If you are so moved, do as they say and support it financially, too. (I haven't yet, but I just might tomorrow.)

2008-04-08T01:01:00.004-05:00

There it is. The vines had greened out considerably by the time I took this picture last Friday. For the first week or so, they were just grey and ropey, with these incredible purple flowers hanging upside down. This is along the one-lane road you have to take to my daughters' schools. Not a bad view this time of year when you're sitting behind school buses and a hundred other cars. Every year, after the blooms are gone, you forget it is wisteria, until the miracle happens again.

Today's beauties. Hmm ... I'm really getting lazy again.

1) The book section at Target. Big enough to make me whine about all the wonderful books out there and the limited amount of time and money I have to buy and read them, yet small enough to give me hope.

2) The taste of our favorite "fruit salad" for dinner. Lite canned peaches with only half the juice poured off, mandarin oranges, sliced bananas, and the finishing touch, mini marshmallows! Maybe not as healthy as it could be, but I'm willing to bet we all get two or three servings of our fruits and veggies for the day when we crack open those cans, peel that banana, and drop in a handful of those minis.

3) Just the thought of three-year-old Ian wearing a tie to the mall on a Tuesday because he felt like it.

4) The silky, cool feel of the newer "tissue weight" shirts and tees. (I really had to struggle to find a "touch" beauty. I need to be watching for these more. Sounds, too. It was a quiet day.)

And that is all. I can't do five. I'm on notice for tomorrow. Must get out of the house before 5:30 p.m.!!

And here's the reflecting pool at the Modern.

Catching up on my beauty sleep ... er, post

2008-04-06T21:59:00.006-05:00

Somehow, the last three days slipped by without me posting any beauties. Durnit, how did that happen? Oh, well, it's the spirit of the law and not the letter of the law, right? I'll do as many as I remember from the last few days (because I *have* been watching, just not blogging), and then I'll quit.

I'll also post a photo or two of wisteria here, per Carleen's request. The quality of the photos is lacking, unfortunately, but at least you'll get an idea of how it looks. When I bushwhacked into the spot where I took the pictures, I also noticed how wonderful it smelled, so that can be my first beauty. I've read about the scent of wisteria before, but I'm not sure I've ever been close enough to experience it. It's light, not at all overwhelming, although I imagine if you were beneath an arbor covered with the stuff at dusk, it might be intoxicating. It made me think of the faint scent of grape Koolaid, and that's the closest I can come to describing it.

I like Barbara Samuel's post today about how we feed our inspiration, or Girls in the basement, or muses, or however you like to describe it, and that's just what I'm trying to do with identifying five beauties each day.

1) The aforementioned grape Koolaid scent of wisteria. Perfect.

2) The third Sunday night of Jane Austen on PBS with my daughter, and my older daughter joined us tonight, too. We decided we might even try to read some of these novels out loud while school's out this summer.

3) Friday evening, the shallow reflecting pool at the Modern Art Museum in Ft. Worth, with the skyline in the background. I may try to post a photo of that, too. We took the girls to get some culture on before gorging ourselves on ...

4) Pappas' bleu cheese bacon burgers. Anything with bleu cheese is beautiful in my sight.

5) Two brothers, about 7 and 9, in the waiting room at the dentist office. (I'm cheating, this was last week, but I keep remembering it, so I think that counts.) I watched them giggling and wrestling and inspiring each other to great mischief. I commented to their mother how different it is to watch two brothers than two sisters, or a brother and sister, which is what I've experienced in my own home and growing up. (My little brother and sisters were much younger than my older brother and me.)

5) A really good nap, which I had today. (Hmm, what sense would that fall under?)

6) The crackling silence right before a movie starts, followed by the film producer's little blurb. (I can't think of the right term.) I get chills, every time, when the MGM lion roars, or the Fox Searchlight flashes, or Focus Features' blurry circles intertwine, or Columbia's Lady Liberty holds up her torch. They all cast a spell on me, and I sink in for a two-hour escape from real life. Wait. Did I already do this one? Or something like it? Oh, well.

7) Bruster's fudge ripple ice cream in a waffle cone. Melty, creamy, rich, and dreamy. (And now you can see why the weight-o-meter to the right still hasn't budged.)

I think that's all I remember. I'm stretching. I'll be more attentive tomorrow.

Blogger said no go on posting photos tonight, except one up close of the wisteria taken with my cell phone camera at the Ft. Worth Botanic Gardens a few weeks ago. Maybe tomorrow...

Weary

2008-04-03T23:22:00.003-05:00

I think I underestimated the amount of time two things would take in my life:

1) My voice II class with Barbara Samuel.
2) Allowing my kid to be in band.

:-)

Neither are wasted, nonetheless, that was my day. This is the first time I've been on blogs today, which is probably some kind of record.

Today's beauties,

1) Wisteria. This stuff is amazing. It appears as if by miracle, lush lavender grape-like clusters, hanging upside down on vines that look completely dead. I mean, grey, broken, scraggly, look like they need to be cut down and removed vines. Speaking of bluebonnets, my daughter didn't know what Wisteria was called and named it "Upside down bluebonnets!"
2) Djembes. (Amazing djembe player in my daughter's band competition this afternoon. Wow.)
3) Clean, sweetsmelling little girl hair all fixed up for picture day.
4) Quiet after everyone else has gone to bed.
5) Fresh butter-flavored tortillas from Kroger. Yum yum!

The beast and the beauties

2008-04-02T23:02:00.005-05:00

Haven't mentioned the story in a while because I was having major struggles and long periods of self loathing after reading the first several chapters. Of course it didn't help that it was juxtaposed against some great books I've been reading. I was pretty much ready to toss it out the window and hope a passerby could do something more with it. I obviously could NOT.

I've heard that happens.

This afternoon, I made a simple fix. I switched the order of a few of those chapters, and VOILA!, I'm moving forward again. Amazing how sometimes all it takes is a little thing to make a story work so much better.

So, today's beauties ... I'm in a bird rut.

1) Sight: Two birds flying in PERFECT tandem, like an ice skating pair about to win a gold. No matter which way the one in the lead turned and dipped, the other was in perfect synch behind.

2) Sight: Blue bonnets and red bonnets and primroses finally making an appearance in the medians after a long, wet, chilly beginning to Spring.

3) Scent: The incredibly rich, delicious smell of brownies baking as we walked into the girls' piano teacher's house today.

4) Touch: The soft underside of her baby's foot as we played with her during lessons. Couldn't resist running my finger up and down its length several times even thought it obviously tickled!

5) Sound: Hearing a favorite song played in the background on a Scrubs rerun. (The World Spins Madly On/The Weepies)

If I use a smaller font, it looks like I wrote a shorter post! Yay! ;)

April challenge: Five Beauties

2008-04-01T15:23:00.007-05:00

I recently read something in a book. Unfortunately, I can't remember which book, but it was probably Robert McKee/Story or Julia Cameron/Finding Water. I think it was Cameron. Sorry ...

Anyway, the writer gave the advice of watching for Five Beauties, every single day, to enhance not only your writing or other art medium, but also your inner life. They can be simple or involved, abstract or concrete. I started doing this casually a few weeks ago, just mentally noting things as I saw them, but I'd like to do it more formally this month. I want to challenge you to do it, too.

I'll attempt to make a record here as many days in April as I can, although there might be some I keep to myself, either for personal reasons or because "you can't say that on television!!" ;)

I might add them to the end of another blog post, or just let them stand alone. Keep me accountable, would you? And try it yourself. Let's see what it does for our work. Let me know if you're playing in the comments, and I'll be sure to check yours out, too.

Getting started here for April 1. I'm assigning a sense to each item when I can, just to be sure I'm not only looking, but also listening, touching, smelling, and tasting.

1) Sound: Birdsong. It's amazing how sharp and clear this sound is even when traveling through the double-paned windows of my house. (I need to get out more, obviously.) Several birds are conversing outside as I type. One sounds angry.

2) Sound: The tick of the oversized clock on my wall in the silence of my house. Could be like water torture, but it's surprisingly soothing to me during the day.

3) Sight: A teen boy, maybe 14 or 15, running with his dog. He wore a white t-shirt and black shorts, and was quite pale and had black hair. He was tall and lanky. His dog was mostly white, but had three or four large, irregular black patches. He was tall and lanky. They matched.

4) Sight: The Yaupon Hollies (I think) in the parkways. The branches were covered densely with bright red/orange berries, but they have bloomed out into green leaves on about the last foot of each branch. They reminded me of Kokopelli, with his spiky hair.

5) Sight: At the grocery store, someone had left two homemade-looking chocolate chip cookies on top of stacks of bottled tea. I wondered if someone forgot them, or they were poisoned, but they were very pretty anyway! Weird one ...

I need to be more aware of things I can smell, touch, or taste tomorrow, don't I?

What are you waiting for?

2008-03-31T00:37:00.005-05:00

"If I'm going to make a life out of this, I better do it soon!"

So says my favorite singer/songwriter, David Wilcox, in an interview on NPR's Bob Edwards Weekend show. A good mantra for a writer, too, don't you think?

Dave talks about writing one of the songs he performs after he heard the chorus in his dreams. Sound familiar to any of you writers out there? We can learn a lot from artists in other mediums. We're running in the same river, after all.

River Run Dry
David Wilcox
There's a canyon down from Ghost Ranch, New Mexico
Left by torrents that tore through here long ago
It carved out sculpture and left this show
When the canyon floor is dry

And there's a river close to home that never seems to flow
Some part of me that couldn't break the dam below
Just slow turnin' circles that won't let go
Waiting just to fly

I can't wait any longer
With these stones around my heart that keep me shy
So I pray the river's stronger
So I may before I die

Say goodbye,
and run like the river run dry

I wanna sweat through every pore,
running faster when it's hot
And catch up to who I can be,
and drop the things I'm not
And be sure by the end,
I gave it all I've got
Feel my heart beat strong

By the finish line, I wouldn't mind
falling like the rain
Instead of saving it for someday,
when someday never came
I wanna open up early
and push against the pain
Pray to just hold on

I can't wait any longer
With these dreams within my heart I have to try
So I pray the river's stronger
So I may before I die
Say goodbye,
and run like the river run dry

Let me fall

This will end, but while I'm living
There are dreams within my heart that have to fly
So I willl spend this life I'm living
so I may before I die

Say goodbye,
and run like the river run dry

You can listen to the interview at the streaming link above, or here as a free Itunes download. Thanks to Lian-Marie from DW list for posting the link to the show.

March 28, "Bob talks with Susan Jacoby about her book The Age of American Unreason and singer/songwriter David Wilcox."
~Interview with DW starts about halfway through, at the 20:40 marker, but the whole thing is fairly interesting. Some political talk if that scares ya.
~River Run Dry comments and song start at about 32:20 marker.

Jane Austen, part deux: Vocabulary lesson

2008-03-30T23:47:00.004-05:00

Tonight, PBS showed the the first part of the Sense & Sensibility miniseries on PBS, as I mentioned last Sunday, and my younger daughter and I snuggled in for another mother/daughter cultural experience. In case you forget, she's 10. That really wonderful stage (for moms anyway) right between child and young woman, and I'm taking advantage of it as much as I can, as long as I can.

So, in the show, Marianne Dashwood had encountered the two available bachelors in the new neighborhood--Willoughby, handsome and young, and Colonel Brandon, handsome and not so young. When the two men approached each other at a dinner party and the sinister music swelled along with the tension, my daughter exclaimed, almost under her breath, "Collusion!"

Huh? Collusion? I thought that's what she had said, but she has this habit of refusing to repeat words if she's not sure she used them correctly. (Um, probably because she figures I'm going to blog about it.)

Finally, I pried it out of her, and told her I thought it probably worked for the situation. I looked it up later, and it worked reasonably well in that moment. Come to find out as the story developed, not so much after all.

(From dictionary.com, "a secret agreement, esp. for fraudulent or treacherous purposes; conspiracy")

So, there I sat, wallowing in my pride, wondering where on earth my darling daughter learns these words and uses them fairly well in context. But she had something else to say, so she changed the subject.

"My pits smell good. Like flowers."

Apparently, in addition to learning and experimenting with new vocabulary, she also appreciates her new deodorant.

Why make art?

2008-03-27T21:43:00.009-05:00

Why write? Why paint? Why make music? Why make films and produce plays?

In my voice 2 class with Barbara Samuel, we're talking about callings--specifically, for our class, being called to write. I've been thinking about that a lot for the last week.

Did you see the speeches Glenn Hansard and Marketa Irglova gave when they won the Academy Award for Best Original Song this year? Glenn's final statement as he held out the Oscar was, "Make art! Make art!" I wish I could write it the way he said it in his charming Irish accent, but please use your imagination. Something like, "Mek arrrdt! Mek arrrdt!" Then, Marketa's historical recall speech where she was able to express her pleasure in receiving such an honor on the behalf of so many independent artists who rarely see that kind of reward.

But, why? Why make art?

Last week, my family explored the exhibits at the Amon Carter Museum and walked the paths of the Ft. Worth Botanic Gardens, pointing out the pieces and flowers to each other that most caught our attention.

A few weeks ago, my friend Gail and I talked about why we liked to go to movies, and the incomparable feeling of sinking into a theater seat and being swept away to another world, even if only for 90 minutes.

I hear you, but what's your point?

In the midst of a pretty emotional week for me, it truly hit home for me. I'm reading The Mermaid Chair, by Sue Monk Kidd. Several times this morning, I stopped to read a line or paragraph more than once. I said to myself,

"That's exactly how I would have put it if only I were so brilliant!"

The bits and pieces resonated with me, showed me truths I didn't even realize were there inside me, gave me some needed internal peace.

Then, this afternoon I lit candles, turned on my CD player, and had some bubble bath therapy. I played a CD I haven't listened to in ages. In fact, I'm not sure I ever listened to it closely before, as I did today. Several songs spoke to me out loud, in a way that showed me answers to questions nagging at me this week.

I'm sure there are many reasons to make art that I haven't even begun to contemplate--as many reasons as there are people who make it and people who partake of it. But it occurred to me today that art is simply one way to experience, from my perspective,

a little perfection here on earth.

Not that art is perfect. But as writers, painters and sculptors, filmmakers, songwriters, or any of the other myriad ways in which we make art, we have the ability to create something that for someone, somewhere, in that moment, is perfect.

It might be just what they need to see or hear or touch to keep going.

So, make art.

Come away to sea

Chorus

This simple craft I play upon

Is made from wooden parts

It's never sailed an ocean

But it sure can sail my heart

And if you feel the music

Then we've raised another sail

The ocean wraps this world around

The wind will never fail

(David Wilcox, from Nightshift Watchman)

Unexpected pleasure

2008-03-23T22:28:00.003-05:00

Sunday nights around our house normally mean getting the girls ready for another school week, finding your own supper, and a new episode of Brothers and Sisters, if there is one. Of course, the writer's strike intervened this year, so we've had some down time from that show, and it was the end of Spring Break. There wasn't a lot of homework to check (I hope), and we're all so relaxed we forgot to do laundry or write lunch checks anyway. Oops, I should go write those checks.

An unexpected pleasure came my way when I glanced at the TV listings online and realized PBS was showing Jane Austen's Emma tonight, and it was five minutes until showtime. I flipped to the right channel, and Todd headed to the bedroom with his computer. He liked the recent Hollywood production of Pride & Prejudice, but I think he's afraid he'd have to give up his man card if he watched too many of these movies and liked them.

I watched a few minutes alone, then my 10-year-old showed up. She wanted to show me something she was creating on the computer in the other room. She sat beside me patiently for a little while, watching the movie, and eventually asked when there would be a commercial. I explained the channel doesn't have commercials, and she wasn't too happy about it, but before she knew it, she was completely engaged in watching Emma. And she was getting it.

Usually, she's in bed at nine(ish) on school nights, but an hour later, a few minutes before nine, she asked if she could watch the rest of it. She's hard to wake up in the morning, so that's never an easy question. Do I let her stay up, knowing she's going to have to be physically dragged out of bed in the morning? Or make her go to bed and perhaps miss the opportunity to cultivate an interest in some of the greatest literature of all time?

I let her stay up. :-) A few minutes before the end of the show, she even asked if she could run up and turn her TV on and watch the last few minutes while she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed.

And before I tucked her in, she asked if it was a series--she wants to know when the next one is showing.

(And it's too bad there's only one more left--Sense & Sensibility is showing the next two weeks, but we missed the first four! Hmm, there are DVDs ...)

Mid-Century Modern Moms

2008-03-22T21:46:00.005-05:00

I'm so loving this new blog--
Mid-Century Modern Moms

It's for mothers of kids from pre-teens through young adult. Most of the "mom blogs" out there are for women with little ones. I laugh every single time I go to this blog. Well, sometimes I don't laugh because there are serious moments, too, actually.

Some of the 10 moms who contribute are writers (Judy Merrill Larson, for instance), some are not.

If you've got kids this age, or just feel like a good laugh or cry, go here. They just moved over from Blogger to a great new Typepad site.

Do you AI?

2008-03-19T00:14:00.006-05:00

This question came up in the comments over at Diane Chamberlain's blog this week, and I decided to say more here because I think I probably surpassed the legal word limit over there for comments. I'm sure that comes as no surprise if you made it all the way through my last post. I am just long-winded and for that, I sometimes make no apology. Other times, I do because I feel shtupid for it, but certainly not last night. Maybe tonight. We'll see.

I also sometimes make no apology for the fact that yes, I do watch American Idol. Without fail. The one episode I had to miss this year, I watched over at my friend's house because she DVR'd it. Phew. Other times I do that weird thing we humans like to do. I say, "I don't usually watch reality TV, but I have to admit I watch American Idol..." as I blush. But why should I be embarrassed? I yam who I yam, right?

Why do I like this show? Several reasons.

First, I have a love/hate relationship with it, truly. I am sincerely sick of the judge's stupid bickering this year. So much disrespect going on there, I can barely tolerate it. I also hate when contestants who obviously need to GO HOME stay week after week because of what we call around our house the "hot" factor, or because silly people on votefortheworst dot com are getting their kicks by messing with self esteems.

I also feel sad, especially for the youngest kids, when they are voted off and have to sing their song one last time. I like the new way they did it last week where they sang before they found out. On the other hand, some of them have given the performance of their lives in that moment, when it's the last chance they really have to prove themselves or give a tribute to the people who have supported them.

Second, I just love music. I actually have pretty discriminating taste in music. It's eclectic, and it's off the beaten path for sure. I'm not crazy about most of the songs the contestants are allowed to sing, and yet, it's music. I've been excited this year to see a little more creativity in song choice from a few contestants who seem to be on my music wavelength, maybe for the first time since the show started. I also love that they get to use instruments this season. And Chikezie was NOT that bad on the harmonica! I really liked his number tonight.

Third, and this one occurred to me today. I opened an email from my dad, and the subject was partially cut off, so it looked like "Ted Mack Attack" at first glance. What it actually said was "Ted Mack Attachment." It was a file containing one of my dad's two performances on the Original Amateur Hour back in 1963. Yes, Virginia, there was talent before American Idol.

My dad sang Younger than Springtime, people mailed in votes to the TV station, and he got to sing a second time because he was one of the winners, I guess. No million dollar recording contract, but I'm sure it was a dream come true for him back in 1963. We had a recording of one show that me and my brother spun over and over on our old, scratchy record player as we grew up, and in recent years, my brother transferred it to CD and sent it out to all of us, including two younger siblings now.

And today, we've been able to watch it for the first time ever. It's truly funny to see my laid-back dad, who has (a little) white hair and a midwestern accent now sporting a fuller head of black hair and a strrrrong southern accent and what I like to call "Music Minister Arms" at the end of the song. But it's also truly inspiring, because he was good and he was following his dream.

I've love to post a bit of it here, but I don't know if I can legally. I'll look into that. The original file resides somewhere in the files of the Library of Congress, and one day, so will the video of all the final contestants from American Idol, and their families will be proud and amazed that their moms or dads were on the show, just like we were and are.

Fourth, and finally, here's what relates to writing. Because this is a writing blog, right? It's not a singing competition, that's for sure, and really, neither is American Idol. It's a dream maker. It's where young people literally put their lives on hold for months while they pursue their biggest dream and passion. It's probably not even really about winning for most of them--they know that only one can win, and odds are, it won't be them. It's about making a statement to the world that they are serious about their dream, and they will give whatever it takes to make it happen.

Now, I am not so naive as to believe there is not a certain amount of political maneuvering that goes on behind the scenes, and likely even some fraud, but I choose to ignore it when I can.

In the end, as writers, can we say we are giving to our dream and our passion what these kids are giving to theirs? If not, why? If not now, when?

(Here's where you stand and sing the Star-Spangled Banner. ;) Then sit back down and start writing.)

Your Blues Ain't Like Mine

2008-03-17T22:06:00.006-05:00

I have read more books this year that have really, really made me think. More than in who knows how long--maybe ever. I've double posted a few times lately on both my blogs,and I'm going to have to do it again tonight.

Over the weekend, I finished the latest--Your Blues Ain't Like Mine, by Bebe Moore Campbell. I happened to see this while browsing at the library a few weeks ago, and remembered a reference to the author in a blurb on Carleen's book, Orange Mint & Honey, of course! And I did not know until just this minute when I went searching for a book link that Campbell is deceased, having died of a brain tumor in 2006.

If you've known me very well in "real life" for long, you know racism (i.e., trying to eliminate it) is one of my soapboxes. And yet, my eyes were opened even a bit wider reading this book. I felt such a mixture of anger, shame, and hope while reading. I think the premise behind the book is that we all have our burdens to bear, and that it's far too easy to judge others, believing that our own burden is just a little bit heavier because of what or who we are. You might come away with something altogether different if you read it. And, of course, there are so many big ideas in the book, and that's just one.

But, I want to talk about those emotions a little more here.

Anger. If you can read this story without feeling anger, I am afraid for you. The fictional events are based on a true story, where a young African American man in the deep South, right at the beginning of the civil rights era, was lynched for allegedly speaking inappropriately to a white woman. Lip service was paid to justice, almost making it worse than if it had never been brought up at all. The rest of the story entails the unfolding of the lives of those surrounding the event over the next 30 years--African American, white, and mixed-race characters.

Shame. I had to ask my mom over dinner Saturday evening what happened in our own family to stall racism. I loved my maternal grandma--she was truly one of my favorite people when I was growing up--yet I cringed and felt physically ill every time I heard her or one of her generation in my family use that horrible word you can guess at here.

For some reason, though, my mother wasn't like that. Over dinner, she told me that when she was growing up in New Mexico, they were beginning to talk in the public schools about civil rights and putting a stop to racism, and she guesses she just took it to heart. This suprises me--it was in the 40s and 50s, and that seems pretty progressive to me! She remembers a time when her father was furious with her for accepting a ride home from camp from the family of an African American girl, and another when she went on a date with a Hispanic boy.

Unfortunately, others in my extended family of her same generation weren't influenced like she was, and I am sorry to say some are no different all the way down to my generation. You could say we are not close today. :-D

On the other hand, my father's family was a strange contrast. I was under the impression my paternal grandmother was racist, too, although I did not know her well, but it turns out she was selective--she was prejudiced against Hispanics, but not African Americans.

This could be because, as it turns out, she fell deeply in love with an African American boy when she was in her late teens, and her father forced an end to that relationship, sometime in the 1920s, I guess. Grandma was an unhappy person as long as I knew her, and that went a long way in explaining her personality to me. She also bore the stigma of being one quarter Cherokee. At least, we think it was Cherokee. The family never talked much about it back in those days. It was a stigma, after all, and the guy responsible for that quarter was never publicly in the picture. I think there is a great story idea in there somewhere, and in fact, did a character sketch for a writing class last year based on the few details I knew.

Anyway, all I knew was the story I heard for years--when my father called to tell her he was engaged to a girl at the university he attended in New Mexico, Grandma's first question was, "Is she a Mexican?" And yet, she also sponsored a Jewish family in the displacement camps after WWII to come to the United States--including their grandbaby who had been fathered by a Nazi soldier who was in love with the daughter.

So, shame because I hate the way people related to me acted sometimes, and how some probably act to this day. But also hope.

Hope because I saw how my parents were able to stop this cycle in one family, in one generation, simply by saying to themselves and to us, their children, "This is never, ever acceptable." My dad worked with international students at the University of Colorado when I was a kid, and we had visitors of every race and religion in our house from the earliest time I can remember. It was just the norm.

My brother's best friend called my mom "Mom," too, and frequently asked my mom to give him and his bike a ride home from our house when it got too dark. He said, "White people don't like to see me riding my bike in your neighborhood after dark, sometimes they shoot at my bike license with BB guns." He was my brother's best man in his wedding. I spent the day I came home from the hospital with my middle baby with a broken heart. Alan had tried really hard to build a good life for himself, serving in the military, and trying to raise his son right, eventually as a single parent. Yet, somehow things went seriously awry. We learned that day I came home with my new baby that Alan, a victim of severe poverty and a childhood home in Five Points filled with crime, drugs, and despair, had cracked--he had murdered his own 10-year-old son, whom we had held as a baby, because the little guy had become involved in a gang. At least that was his reasoning.

The story was more horrible than we ever could have imagined, and yet, he wasn't just another statistic to us, he was our big brother, our son, our best friend. And I don't mean that in the sense of those who say, "I love black people. Some of my best friends are black." I admire your intention, but really, are they your best friends? On the other hand, I am not tooting my own horn here. I am sometimes reminded of the instances where I am myself racist, in some form or another. You know how I know? That still, small voice in my heart that whispers to me.

It occurred to me as I wrote that paragraph that one of the overriding themes in the manuscript I'm currently revising comes directly from my experiences. Several of my characters have a big "difference"--they are deaf. In my story, my main protagonist is deaf, but some of the other deaf characters do bad things. It is impossible to identify the "good guys" or "bad guys" simply based on their physical characteristics. In one scene, my character's granddad reminds him that in the world, there are really only two types of people--those who really care and those who really don't. I know that's pretty broad, but it's also pretty true if you think about it.

Anyway, I encourage you to locate this book. I think this would be an excellent book for a mandatory high school reading list. It's quite graphic, but probably no more graphic than they see every day on television and in movies, if more disturbing.

Sorry for going on so long, but this was on my heart. And how appropriate, the following quote just showed up on an email digest I get.

"People are like stained glass windows: they sparkle and shine when the sun's out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light within."

—Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

Scotch tape and glue sticks

2008-03-16T21:44:00.005-05:00

Here's a shameless plug. My son posted new recordings of some of his songs on MySpace this weekend, and you can listen to them here. His friend Jarod, who's attending sound recording school and is also a fine musician, did the recording and he did a fantastic job.

Ryan and I definitely have our moments--you know the ones, I don't have to go into detail, do I? But, overall, he is such an amazing (almost 20-year-old) kid, and makes me so proud I could spit.

His writing skilz are impressive, in my oh-so-humble-even-if-I'm-the-mom opinion. Here are lyrics to one song--an older one, maybe two or three years, which would have made him about 16 or 17 at the time, but it remains one of my favorites. As a writer and a mom, the pictures he paints in this song make me get all teary-eyed. It's poetry.

Scotch tape and glue sticks
(This is one of the recordings, and you may listen to it here)

You see me
but it's not me, collapsing beneath my feet
I'm falling
faster and faster, picking up the speed
This takedown
spill my ashes, share me with someone new
This old town
resembles a time that I spent with someone who ...

You loved this
spot beneath the willows, buried by the sound of sea
I will miss
every chance I got to make you so angry with me
And we know that
every part of the sky is a secret
We'll show that
we'll open her up, and reveal the missing thing

The cold wind
inhibits the joints, and makes it so hard to move
We'll speak then
when voices are heard and seen, when traveling between two
It's so quiet
but the wind's indecision will fly, and we'll all change moons
So tell me
So tell me

And I don't want you to fake this
But I'm sure that I will break this
And I really want to shake this
But I'm so alone

And I'm trying to fly away
But these wings won't carry me
They were made in the first grade
When love was easy

And I'm trying to fly away
But these wings won't carry me
They were made in the first grade
When Scotch tape and glue sticks would fix everything

You see me
but it's not me, collapsing beneath my feet
I'm falling
faster and faster, picking up the speed
This takedown
spill my ashes, share me with someone new
This old town
resembles a time that I spent with someone I

Love

© Ryan Pickop

Listening to Anne Lamott--live!

2008-03-14T14:30:00.006-05:00

My buddy Gail and I went to hear Anne Lamott speak last night as part of the Dallas Museum of Art - Arts & Letters Live Series.

I've read most of Lamott's books in the last few years and listened to Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith on audio just a few months ago. She is a radical thinker and a pleasure to listen to, wherever you stand on the issues she dares to talk about, even in the Christian environment. (Yes, you can say some of those words in church!)

I'm not going to do a long review of the evening here, but rather, share one little gem that stood out when she was taking questions from the audience. I can't even remember the question, but it was on writing and probably her process.

She simply gave the metaphor of a rag bag. When you are a bit stuck on what to write, reach into your bag of rags. Your rag bag contains so many brightly colored bits of fabric--the memories, the simple few lines you wrote on that index card and stuck in your back pocket, the dialogue you over heard in line at the grocery store. They have different textures and different levels of meaning, but they are a treasure. Pick one out, study it and feel it for a bit, then start writing.

Sounds easy. :-)

A hint and a lot of other rambling

2008-03-12T23:14:00.007-05:00

I see from her blog that Donna followed my lead in getting her MS (a pretty dang funny story, by the way, at least what I've seen) printed and punched at Office Depot. Wait, I haven't done it yet, so she's the leader now!

Instead, I spent a whole afternoon making a "minor" change to the WIP (work-in-progress!). Wait, I'm not finished yet.

Because . . . that minor change entails revisiting every page of the story. I made it through about 150 today. A lot more to go.

Many published writers, but not so many pre-pubbed ones, drop hints about their WIPs (there's that funny word again! But you know it now, right?). I have avoided this like the proverbial plague because it was really important to me to keep this story very close to my heart for a good, long time.

I've been seriously sidetracked on previous efforts--to the point of giving up on the story. For good reasons every time, but with this one, I knew I had a unique premise, if such a thing exists. (It's at least a unique twist if not premise.) I didn't want to get discouraged before I had the first full draft written. I'm to the point now where you can tell me every which way but lose what is wrong with this story, and I'll probably take your advice seriously to heart, and then I'll revise until I'm blue in the face to get it right. Then this puppy is going out on submission.

So (sit up, take notice), here's my first little bit of real info about the story. The only other thing I've shared is that, in the words of Diane, it's s-e-r-i-o-u-s. If you can believe it. Anyway, one of my point-of-view characters is deaf. Or hearing impaired, hearing challenged, whichever politically correct term you prefer. He can't hear. Not at all. Wait, that's TWO hints. Now you know he's a he, too!

I tell you this because I've really struggled to wrap my head around the write, oops, RIGHT way to show the dialogue that's not spoken, but signed. And there's lots of it. Lots. I've checked out as many books from the library as I could that had deaf characters. There are NOT many, let me tell you. There doesn't seem to be any uniform method, and there are problems with each.

My only-est reader so far (Hi, Gail!), who saw the first couple of chapters about a year ago, struggled with the method I originally chose, so I knew this was an obstacle I would need to get around before I could pass the story on to many others. Identifying the best method--one that allows the story to flow seamlessly and engages the reader--will be a huge relief.

I said all that to say that I spent today changing every instance (so far) of this dialogue to a new method. I think it works better. Please, God, in the chosen Lennon/McCartney lyrics of my favorite girl AI contestant, Brooke, "Let it be." (I likes me some folkies--Can we all say Jason and sigh in unison?)

Next stop, Office Depot.

EDIT! So, this morning, I remembered I have another book (on hand!) with a character who uses ASL (as does mine). I look at it, and her dialogue is done exactly the way I HAD it, and it actually worked pretty well. Gaaaaaah . . . What to do? The book, by the way, is Between, Georgia, by Joshilyn Jackson, and was very good. She has another that just launched--The Girl Who Stopped Swimming. Her blog today just might make you laugh!

Need a good laugh?

2008-03-10T23:57:00.004-05:00

You have to go look at the picture on Diane Chamberlain's latest blog post. I laughed out loud. Really. Don't click on that link if it is necessary for you to be quiet at this moment.

I think this is how all writers must feel when they've been spending a little too much time with the computer.

The Craziness of March has come, but it has not passed

2008-03-10T16:14:00.005-05:00

It's going to be a busy month, and it's already nearly half over!!!

I'm starting Barbara Samuel's Voice II class next week, the kids have Spring Break, and I'm working on these revisions.

Revisions are going okay so far. I was going to start with printing out all the pages of my first draft, punching them, and filing them in a binder to do a read through, as I've seen suggested in several places. I still plan to do that, but I already knew of a few obvious plot holes with relatively easy fixes to make before I read or got any beta readers involved. So I decided to do those first, which has been keeping me pretty busy for the last week or so.

Hoping to trek over to Office Depot for the printout in the very near future. I figure it's better to abuse their large printing monsters than torture my little HP photo printer, and it will probably be less expensive in the long run than using all my own ink cartridges and paper.

Not to mention I have "bonus bucks" to use after purchasing my new laptop from them. (I am sad they failed to mention that "cash back" really meant credit to use in the store. Grr.)

Not to mention me and printers have this thing. We don't get along very well.

When I worked in an office, people assumed that since I was kind of tech savvy--I worked on the departmental intranet site, and I could always get them out of their fixes, like lost toolbars--I could also troubleshoot printers and copiers. Um, no. I am terrified of them. :-)

I went on an online scavenger hunt this afternoon, looking for more articles about character arcs, change, etc. Somehow (isn't it funny how that works?) I ended up at Margie Lawson's site. I've been there before. I'm considering either taking her Empowering Character's Emotions workshop in person--she'll be at a local writer's group in May--or downloading the packet from her site.

Anyone taken this class or downloaded the material? Would love to hear how it worked for you, and also any other good resources for writing emotion and nonverbal communication.

By the way, can you name the source of my (somewhat altered) post title? Ten points if you can. Ten points for what, I still don't know, but I'm keeping track. ;)

Ho Hum

2008-03-06T17:21:00.005-06:00

Because I have nothing more exciting to report, I thought I'd play another fun game. I found the link to this one on Gayle Brandeis's blog, which I came across by chance yesterday. I haven't read anything by her yet, but I believe I will add her new book, Self Storage, to the TBR pile!

What Punctuation Mark Are You? I am ... a question mark!

You Are a Question Mark

You seek knowledge and insight in every form possible. You love learning. And while you know a lot, you don't act like a know it all. You're open to learning you're wrong. You ask a lot of questions, collect a lot of data, and always dig deep to find out more. You're naturally curious and inquisitive. You jump to ask a question when the opportunity arises. Your friends see you as interesting, insightful, and thought provoking. (But they're not always up for the intense inquisitions that you love!)

You excel in: Higher education

You get along best with: The Comma

This sounds about right, I think. I did excel in higher education--let's hope I excel in the real world, too! Preferably in publishing ...

Oh, it *is* snowing here in Texas, which seems to be big news, as always! Also, I'm getting good work done on revisions, so that's exciting for me.

Orange Mint and Honey

2008-03-03T01:50:00.011-06:00

I finally received my copy of Orange Mint and Honey, Carleen Brice's fiction debut, last Monday from Amazon. I was in the middle of another book when it arrived, so didn't get started until late in the week. (Don't tell Ann Patchett, but I cheated and snuck a few chapters in early!)

Can I just say it was well worth the wait? I loved this book. I read until the wee hours Saturday morning, then was back at it again when I woke up later, and stuck with it until I finished.

Here's a description from Carleen's website:

What would Nina Simone do? That’s the question 25-year-old Shay Dixon asks of her de facto spiritual adviser, the late great High Priestess of Soul, when she finds herself depressed, evicted from her apartment, and about to flunk out of grad school.

The answer - move back home to live with her recovering alcoholic mother Nona - leads Shay back to Denver where she is shocked to discover a new Nona, sober, healthy, raising a 3-year-old, and growing a lush, healing garden.

Though reconciliation seems a hard proposition for Shay, something unmistakable takes root inside her, waiting to blossom like the flowers in Nona's garden.

Soon Shay finds herself facing her first real romantic relationship and exciting possibilities. But when a crisis hits, even the wise words and soulful melodies of Nina Simone may not be enough for solace. Shay begins to realize that, like orange mint and honey, life tastes better when
bitter is followed by sweet.

Writing teachers speak of "setting as a character." Well, let me tell you, for me anyway, setting was a major player in this story. It would be hard for me to make an unbiased determination of whether it was Carleen's doing or it was because these are the neighborhoods where I grew up. East High School, Five Points, Colfax Avenue, Colorado Boulevard, Park Hill, The Tattered Cover—if you could Mapquest my junior high and high school memories, these would be the physical boundaries. It's been nearly 20 years since I've been back to Denver, and it wasn't the best period of my life, but the unique experience created by that geography felt so familiar, I was homesick. I had a similar experience when I read Little Miss Strange by Joanna Rose—which is to say, I was mesmerized.

Orange Mint and Honey intersects the lives of women in so many ways, however, that I'm not sure any of us could read this novel without identifying at some point.* Mothers and daughters, sisters, addictions, trust issues, growing up, absent fathers, self esteem, identity, and most of all, forgiveness and reconciliation—these are a few of the issues the story touches on.

One scene that just won't leave my mind is a confrontation between Shay and Nona, her recovering alcoholic mother. The setting for this scene causes a hullabaloo for sure. I won't give it away, but when it's said and done, you think, "Yes. That's right. This is what should happen in this place."

Brice's characters are funny and quirky and human. On one page, you think, "Hey, I know that guy." Other times, you blush when you recognize yourself. My husband and I were eating out last night, and I pointed to a girl in a booth across from our table. I said, "That's exactly how I pictured the girl in the book I just finished this morning." She had no idea, but she was Shay (after she finally got her hair done).

And, of course, if you know me at all, you know that a book without music is somehow lacking. There is no shortage in Orange Mint and Honey. The story starts off when Shay is visited by the spirit of Nina Simone, and music really becomes another character as well.

What really grabbed me, though, is that for all its prickly issues, this is such a joyful story. My own work tends to be darkish, or as Diane Chamberlain put it the other day about her own work, s-e-r-i-o-u-s. I believe there is a place for mostly serious, heavy books, but if readers and writers lived there all the time, we'd all stick our heads in ovens, right?

Brice manages to weave a story that deals, at its core, with some heavy, heavy issues, yet I found myself grinning like an idiot for nearly 300 pages. Even smiling through my tears.

Run out and get your copy and read this book.

* By the way, this novel deals with some touchy issues. I would allow my own mature 14-year-old to read it, and would be glad I read it first. I'd want to talk with her about it when she was finished.

135,000 words later ...

2008-02-28T22:03:00.003-06:00

The draft, she is done. Hovering right at 115K after the 20K I cut a few weeks ago, it might not be the most beautiful thing just yet, but it is finished.

Now for the real work.

Earlier tonight, I was studying this High Tension Workshop website, wishing I could attend this May workshop in Austin. It looks like the perfect class to take in the midst of revisions. Alas, it is pricey, and does not seem to fit into my continuing ed budget this year, no matter which way I look at it--even standing on my head and crossing my eyes just right. But simply reading the class description is helpful. Look at this:

Building tension on every page--meaning tension in dialogue, action and exposition. Then tension in scenes. Next, tension in premise.

Those are words of wisdom for free.

Pretty baby?

2008-02-27T13:19:00.010-06:00

~~So,~~ sometime today or tomorrow, I should be really and truly and finally finished with my first complete draft of my story. I feel like I've been saying that for days (weeks?) now, but there is no getting around it this time.

Hmm, you say, that sounds ~~a little~~ resistant. Well, yeah, there has been ~~a little~~ weirdness for me. I know how close I am, and yet, it has been ~~really~~ hard to pound out these last few chapters and scenes. Can't ~~really~~ say why for sure. One theory is that they're ~~really~~ boring. :-)

On the other hand, maybe I'm ~~a little~~ scared. Being finished with this draft means I will go into serious revisions, which means that one day, maybe in the near future, I'll be ready to ship this puppy off to face the first serious rejection of its life. That is scary. I think I'm up to it, but still.

So many have described the process of writing and attempting to get published as a ~~very~~ long pregnancy. In this case, verrrrry long. When I finish this draft, or maybe the revisions, I'm going to do a post myself about the process--how long it actually took, what happened in between, etc.

When I was a teenager, my mom worked for an ob/gyn doctor, and my first real job was working at the office for a summer. People often brought their newborns in a few weeks after birth for the doctor to see. If it was a cute kid, he'd say, "Oh, what a cute little girl!" (Or guy, or whatever.) If it was not such a cute thing, he'd say, "Oh, a baby!!!" and write FLK on their chart. Funny Looking Kid. Kind of cruel, I guess, but it was also pretty funny at the time to those of us who were on the inside track.

So, yeah, there is this little baby I'm carrying in my metaphorical womb, nearly ready to see the light of day, and I want everyone to think he's gorgeous, and they might think he's just an FLK.

EDIT: I get irritated with my crutch words, so I struck them for all the world to see. Maybe it'll remind me next time. :-D I'm sure there are more here, but this'll do for now.

Miss Cul lives on, and I survived as well

2008-02-24T18:30:00.004-06:00

Thanks to Heather, I had to do a little research. If you read my last post, you might get a chuckle out of this news story about Miss Cul (pictured at right, as if you couldn't guess!). She is certainly a legend at HSU. Turns out she will be 88 this year, and is still quite alive. She was awarded an honorary doctorate in 2003, at the age of 83.

The skit went okay. It was verrry awkward while we were practicing and getting set up, but the final video was entertaining. The thing that sucks is when I look in the mirror, I do NOT see that extra 30 pounds. How does that work??? In my mirror, I also still look 25.

Get out of your comfort zone

2008-02-23T11:24:00.005-06:00

Did I think when I wrote a short skit for a church service that the drama lady might ask me to play one of the parts? Well, maybe. I always, always, always wanted to be involved in drama when I was in high school. But, I was the painfully shy kid. You know, the girl who, when spoken to, jumped a foot or so in the air and croaked out the answer. You remember her, right? I tried out for one play and nearly had heart failure in the process, so I stuck to costumes, props, or whatever I could do that didn't require me to be on that stage actually saying anything.

In college, I continued the tradition. I was the actual paid costumer for the theater department. Only problem was (well, other than getting the actors there for their fittings) the previously used costumes and props were all stored in a cavernous basement under the theater. A basement that had experienced a flood who knows how many years before. Mold grew in massive quantities all over the walls, and on many of the costumes and props. It was like something out of a horror film, seriously. And it made me deathly ill every time I had to go down there for something.

Still, I managed to struggle through one semester, and I had a great time. I even had to sew some of the costumes without patterns. That was some creative thinking, let me tell you. The grand finale was that after the final show of the semester, I tagged along with the other girls from the cast and crew, and we painted the town red. Well, as red as you could paint Abilene, Texas, at midnight on a Saturday night in the mid 80s. Not that red, really. I think we went to an all-night pancake house and irritated the wait staff until they kicked us out. But we felt very adventurous.

Well, at that point in time, the dorms at the small, Christian college I attended had curfews. We missed the curfew by a mile or so that night. The two or three of us that were freshman girls would have had to ring the buzzer at the dorm to get back in. And, believe me, you did NOT want to incur the wrath of "Miss Cul."

Miss Culpepper was the freshman girls' dorm director. She was about 80 back then, and I think she might be 80 if she's still alive today. She had a towering dyed-red beehive and eyeglasses the size of Abilene. During finals week panty raids, she'd stand at the door intoning, "Sodom and Gomorrah . . . Sodom and Gomorrah . . . " over and over until the boys got a little queasy and gave up and moved on to the other dorms. If Miss Cul had something to say to you, she just came to your room and used her key. Once, my roommate was ironing in nothing but her "dainties" and Miss Cul burst in to speak to her about something. The dainties didn't phase her. We loved her anyway. (I think she actually passed away a few years ago, and probably had the biggest funeral attendance of anyone ever in Abilene.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, to this day, I do not know the name or face of the person whose apartment we crashed that night. One of the girls conveniently had a key, he was out of town, and she said he wouldn't care. I think she got the bed. She was the leading lady of the play, and after all, she had the key. One lucky girl got the sofa, and the rest of us "slept" in chairs. And they were not recliners. Something about the floor repelled us, I believe.

So, anyway, that was the end of my college theater experience, and soon after we slithered back into the dorm the next morning, I quit that job and went to work at the university bookstore.

Since then, I've played one other part in a drama production. I was Mary in a Christmas play, but I didn't have to say a word. All I had to do was fall flat on my face when the angel came to tell me I was giving birth to Jesus. That was easy.

So, here we are. This afternoon, I go over to the church where we're filming the skit (we are high tech, baby), and I get to be in it. I have actual lines. I will probably have to enunciate and be expressive and all that. I'm only a wee bit nervous. It would be easier for me to say, "Naw, I'm just a writer," and pass up the chance to do something different, right? Something out of my comfort zone. Something that gives me new experience to draw on, new emotions to remember the next time I need to describe nerves. Nope, I'm doing it.

Besides, doing Toastmasters for a while helped me get over much of my stage fright, and I left that shy kid behind years ago anyway. Once I got started talking, I couldn't figure out how to shut up.

I should go learn my lines. I'll let you know how it all works out. The real draw is the cast party.

I hate libraries

2008-02-19T22:13:00.003-06:00

JUST KIDDING. ;-) ;-) ;-)

Why would I have spent the most hectic 18 months of my life earning a master's of library science degree if that was so?

They do annoy me, though. I go there thinking I'll get lots and lots of writing done without the distractions of home and family. HAHAHAHA. Talk about distractions.

Distractions everywhere. In the form of all those prettiful books. That is my daughters' word, but I can't think of a better one. It's also very Seussical. Thin books, fat books, little books, big books, old books, new books, books books books.

I did, however, finish writing the last chapter of my story sometime in the last few days (not my final chapter, mind you--I still have one interior chapter to finish and one transitional one to write), and I also wrote an epilogue today at the library. Just thought I'd sneak that in.

I came home from that evil place today with five books. That's a much smaller number than I used to tote home when I was a shy, 9-year-old kid in Boulder, Colorado. We had recently moved from Kentucky and the kids in Colorado thought I talked funny and dressed funny, and I proceeded to bury myself in books from the Boulder Public Library. The librarians gave me "that look" when I walked up to the counter each week with my stack of 10 or 15 books. You know, the "Did you really read all those books? In one week?" look.

I discovered my favorite books ever during that time of my life--especially Laura Ingalls Wilder and Francis Hodgson Burnett. I wanted to be a pioneer girl more than anything in the world, but I would have settled for being an orphan who lived in a cold, lonely garrett or an uncle's house on the moor.

I think that is why I feel so peaceful and at home in the libary. It was always my safe place--I could be whoever I wanted to be there, and so far, that hasn't changed a bit.

Mish Mash

2008-02-17T23:03:00.003-06:00

Some days, I have nothing to say, others, it's hard to choose. So here's a hodge podge, mish mash blog post.

I'm proud of my friend, Gail, who is a good writer, but doesn't allow herself time to do it as a general rule. She asked me to keep her accountable to at least writing one blog post a week, because writing on her blog is better than no writing at all. (And heck, it's fun, too!)

Anyway, she posted her blog tonight, the eighth day, after I pestered her enough times in the comments of her last one, I guess. :-) Go read her post about one of her movie faves, and leave her a note of encouragment while you're at it!

I read The Kite Runner over the weekend. I've added it to my Feast of Books list. As my mom said earlier today when she was telling me she had just finished reading Pillars of the Earth, I'm missing the characters. I find myself wondering about them. Where are they now? What happened after that? A sign of a great book, huh? Wonder if anyone will miss my characters one day?! This is a moving book, truly, and I will be looking for A Thousand Splendid Suns, soon. Also hoping to catch The Kite Runner movie at the Inwood before it's gone.

Feast of Love, by the way, was poetic, as Amanda Eyre Ward said in her author notes for How to Be Lost. I'm glad I read it. It was closer to the movie than I expected, having read some reviews that indicated otherwise. The multiple first-person POVs in this story are amazing. Having the movie voices in my head probably helped, but still.

Had another weird timing, "coincidence" thing tonight. I'm starting to think my brain is working like Field of Dreams. "If I think it, it will come." Hmm. I think I will lose 30 pounds in the next three days and be able to eat all the chocolate torta and Godiva cheesecake I want to all the time forever without gaining it back. I'll letcha know how that works out.

Wonder Week

2008-02-15T21:20:00.006-06:00

Call it confirmation, guidance, a "God thing," or as my favorite singer/songwriter, David Wilcox, likes to say, Timing with a Capital T, this week made my head spin with it.

Seems like sometimes . . . no, often . . . making one good decision can lead to other good things. (Yeah, I've been trying to teach my kids that for years, and one of these days maybe they'll believe me!) My decision to cut the domineering subplot earlier this week has been followed by several rather amazing "coincidences" that have affected my writing in one way or another.

Let's start with Tuesday night. I was browsing Amazon and started reading about the number one book in women's fiction (by their rating system). My eyes got pretty big as I read about a plot that was identical in several critical ways to the next manuscript I planned to work on. Not the cut plot from my current one, but another I've been toying with for some time. I've had a few trial chapters from this story stuck in a file on my computer for a little more than a year because I decided the idea I had for my WIP was more timely, and the most original idea I had come up with so far. Now, I thought the other idea was quite original, if I do say so myself, and perhaps since it's number one on Amazon, it really was.

I felt a gamut of emotions--frustration, relief, and affirmation are a few. Frustration because I knew I couldn't effortlessly move right into that story when I finally finish my current one. But frustration quickly turned to relief. What if I had not come across this book before I poured my heart and soul into mine for a year? It would definitely have been labeled a copy cat book, even if my story was different in many ways, because the basic plot was too close. Finally, affirmation, because if I had a "what if?" idea as close to a bestselling author as I did, I must be on the right track. Apparently, I'm pursuing story ideas that are publishable and commercially viable.

The very next day, I browsed to one of my favorite author's blogs. Imagine my surprise when her blog title referenced the very same book. She blogged about how her upcoming release is similar in many ways to this book as well. (IMHO, her plot sounds very different, but it has the same universal themes. I can't wait to read her book.) Needless to say, I was having a Twilight Zone experience for sure. I exchanged some personal correspondence with her, and she encouraged me to squirrel that story away and somewhere down the line, give it some big tweaks, and try again.

Thursday night comes along, and my heart has pretty much taken all of this kind of shock it can stand for one week, but yes, God does have a sense of humor. As I blogged about earlier this week, I've been pondering a new working title for my WIP. Early in the day Thursday, I was tossing some ideas around in my head that seemed right, but I needed some confirmation. Yeah, I'm a spineless wimp. I can't make decisions on my own. So, there's something David Wilcox (the Capital T guy) says in concerts sometimes, and I couldn't quite remember how it went. I googled it, looked at song lyrics on his site, but couldn't locate it. I knew, however, that it gave the universal theme of my WIP in a nutshell. So, I was playing around with titles derived from it in some way. I ran them by my husband and kids at the dinner table, and there were the usual obnoxious jokes and so on, but also good reactions.

An hour or so later, I got an emailed digest from a group of Wilcox fans. One lady had posted a poignant story about her work week. She then posted the very quote I had been trying to remember. As if that wasn't enough, she signed off with a Valentine's wish using one of the exact phrases I was tossing around.

Yeah.

Before I went to bed, I changed the title on my WIP to my new one and put the quote at the top as an epi . . . uh, what is that word!? (Not epitaph--that's for tombstones.) Oh, yeah--EPIGRAPH! While the new working title is not the exact phrase she used, it was one of the alternates that means the same thing. This morning, I got a response from my first reader, telling me she preferred the one I used over the other, and I hadn't even told her which I had chosen.

In the meantime, I've done more writing this week than I've been able to do in weeks. I'm writing the last chapter of my story (although, I do have maybe two transition chapters that go in between the last one and where I left off earlier in the week). The place I thought was "the end" back when I was doing NaNoWriMo is pretty much the middle of the story now. Talk about opening up the story when I followed my heart by cutting that subplot.

My goal was to get a good first draft complete and ready for serious revisions before I start my Voice II class with Barbara Samuel in March. I think I can. I think I can.

What about you? Coincidence? Guidance? A God thing? Timing with a Capital T? How has it affected your writing?

New books!

2008-02-12T11:07:00.001-06:00

Oh, and just a reminder, two authors debut today:

Carleen Brice's Orange Mint and Honey
(EDIT: This is Carleen's FICTION debut. She has a couple of nonfiction books already under her belt!)

and

Therese Fowler's Souvenir

Congrats to both! I ordered my copies last night and can't wait to read them.

Working titles

2008-02-12T10:33:00.000-06:00

I think my working title might be going along with those 20K words. Just another confirmation that it was the right thing to do. I realize working titles are seldom used when a book is actually published, but a girl can dream, right?

The title I've been using all along is "right" for either story, but it's "perfect" for the cut subplot. So, just in case, I'd like to leave that option available.

In the meantime, I've been contemplating a new title to send along with the manuscript when those requests start pouring in. (Again, a girl can dream, right?) If nothing else, at least for the queries. Even if the working title is ultimately scrapped, it can help the reception of your manuscript, so it's still important. Or so I've heard.

If you are published, have you been able to keep your working title(s)? If not, how hard was it to let go and "bond" with the new one? Heck, maybe you were so excited to get a contract, you didn't care at all! That's probably how I'd be. Well, unless it's some super duper cheezy title that screams, "I am so wrong for this story!"

I've noticed a popular naming convention in the romance genre that uses "Her" plus more words, which makes me squirm. Like (and these are off the top of my head, have no idea if they have been used) . . .

Her greatest honor
Her majestic hero
Her biggest mistake
Um . . .
Her secret chocolate stash

Hehe. You get the picture. Nothing personal if you have one of these titles, they just don't work for me. :-) At any rate, it's probably a good thing I'm not writing in the romance genre, right?

Guess it's time to get back to wasting time thinking about new working titles instead of doing the actual work. Although, I have done some good work in the last few days.

Ouch, that hurt so good

2008-02-09T13:22:00.001-06:00

If you have been paying any attention at all to the little counter on the right, you might notice something strange. Your eyes are not messing with you. My word count for LOTH (an acronym that represents the working title for my manuscript) did indeed just go from 119,271 to 100,511. Almost 20K words in the apparent wrong direction.

I've been struggling with something I had a feeling I needed to do. So, after giving myself some days to think about how I could save a subplot that I really love, then giving myself a few more days to get used to the idea that I couldn't, I did what I had to do.

Killed those lil' darlins. All 20K words, in which a subset of my cast acted their hearts out and developed into a sideshow that was stealing the thunder of my original story just a little too much. Well, if not exactly stealing the thunder, being quite distracting with their own brand.

But, really, they're not dead yet. (Be sure and say that with the proper accent.)

They've just been moved into their own file folder where they can continue to figure out how the heck they got there and how the heck they can emerge again in their very own show where they are the stars. They might just be, in the words of Hollywood, a successful spinoff.

So now, I'm back down around 100K, my original word count goal for this story, and while it's not over yet, at least it won't turn out to be the longest story known to man (or woman, since I'm equally opportunistic here), which is NOT a good idea for a writer attempting to sell their first manuscript.

The funny thing, and somewhat painful, is after reading back through my outline, sans the extras, the story still makes sense. That's a sure sign, I think.

On the other hand, the characters remain as peripheral, just not as major subplot/POV guys, so character development is still strong for them. I know all about them, you just won't know as much as I do, should this story ever be published.

I should say a short word of thanks to Judy Merrill Larson, by the way. I commented about my struggle after her post about revisions the other day, and she didn't mince any words in her response--"I say ditch it. But save it in another document. You never know when you might resurrect it. And, who knows how it will have changed by the time you finally get back to it." I'm thankful for accessible, published authors who are willing to share words of wisdom. I only hope I get to pay it forward one of these days.

Onward. I see the light.

Who am I?

2008-02-08T12:33:00.000-06:00

Well, according to these fun little personality tests . . . (highly recommended by Therese)

Your Superpower Should Be Invisibility

You are stealth, complex, and creative. You never face problems head on. Instead, you rely on your craftiness to get your way. A mystery to others, you thrive on being a little misunderstood. You happily work behind the scenes... because there's nothing better than a sneak attack!

Why you would be a good superhero: You're so sly, no one would notice... not even your best friends

Your biggest problem as a superhero: Missing out on all of the glory that visible superheroes get

What Should Your Superpower Be?

That sounds about right. Now, what kind of puppy . . .

You Are a Chow Puppy

Don't fence me in!

You're an independent spirit that won't be tied down.

What Breed of Puppy Are You?

This was funny. No matter how many times I changed the answers to my "other gut feeling" I was still a chow. And I don't really like chows. One bit my son in the butt when he was 2. :-) And now, thinking about the description, I guess it's right. I didn't want to be tied down to being a chow. Heh.

Feast of Books, 2008

2008-02-06T23:30:00.019-06:00

My friend Gail asked me how many books I've read since 2008 started, and I really had no idea. I've seen other bloggers keep a list as the year progresses of books they've read, and I thought that might be fun to try this year. I can't figure out a simpler, less obtrusive way to do this, so I'm just going to start a list here with all the books I can remember finishing so far in 2008 (although I'm coming up blank about what I read earlier in January). Lucky for you, it should eventually drop off the radar, but I'll just keep going back and adding to it so I can tally it up at the end of the year. Feel free to comment if you've read any of these and want to say something about one, or if you have any recommendations.

FICTION
Whitethorn Woods/Maeve Binchy
The Yokota Officer's Club/Sarah Bird (Check out The Flamenco Academy, also by her, great books)
Water for Elephants/Sara Gruen
The Memory Keeper's Daughter/Kim Edwards
Breaking the Silence/Diane Chamberlain
The Last Summer (of You and Me)/Ann Brashares (Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants author)
All the Numbers/Judy Merrill Larsen
How to Be Lost/Amanda Eyre Ward
Of Sound Mind/Jean Ferris (a YA book I read for research, but really good!)
The Feast of Love/Charles Baxter
The Kite Runner/Khaled Hosseini
Bel Canto/Ann Patchett
Orange Mint and Honey/Carleen Brice
Souvenir/Therese Fowler
Flirting with Pete/Barbara Delinsky
Your Blues Ain't Like Mine/Bebe Moore Campbell
The Alchemist/Paolo Coelho
The Mermaid Chair/Sue Monk Kidd
The Things We do for Love/Kristin Hanna
The Awakening/Kate Chopin
Dream When You're Feeling Blue/Elizabeth Berg
Pieces of My Sister's Life/Elizabeth Joy Arnold
Beach Music/Pat Conroy
the girl who stopped swimming/Joshilyn Jackson
Cypress Point/Diane Chamberlain
Salem Falls/Jodi Picoult
Still Summer/Jacquelyn Mitchard
Promise the Moon/Elizabeth Joy Arnold
Before the Storm/Diane Chamberlain
Riding Lessons/Sara Gruen
Family Tree/Barbara Delinsky
Promise Not to Tell/Jennifer McMahon
Tell No One/Harlan Coben
Plain Truth/Jodi Picoult
The Pull of the Moon/Elizabeth Berg
The Year of Fog/Michelle Redmond
Love in the Time of Cholera/Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Peony in Love/Lisa See
The Lace Reader/Brunonia Barry
The Secret Between Us/Barbara Delinsky
Ask Again Later/Jill A. Davis
The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted: and Other Small Acts of Liberation/Elizabeth Berg
Barefoot/Elin Hilderbrand
Catching Genius/Kristy Kiernan
Where the River Runs/Patti Callahan Henry
The Wolves of Willoughby Chase/Joan Aiken (re-read of a childhood favorite!)
Child 44/Tom Rob Smith
Lottery/Patricia Wood
Matters of Faith/Kristy Kiernan
Change of Heart/Jodi Picoult
The Pilot's Wife/Anita Shreve
The Secret Life of Bees/Sue Monk Kidd
The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox/Maggie O'Farrell
After You'd Gone/Maggie O'Farrell
The Fields of Fortune/Jessica Stirling
Bride Island/Alexandra Enders
Reunion/Therese Fowler (UK edition bought in England, not out in US until 2009!)
About a Boy/Nick Hornby
The Shack/William P. Young
Flying Changes/Sara Gruen
A Patchwork Planet/Anne Tyler

NONFICTION*
Eat, Pray, Love/Elizabeth Gilbert
The Forest for the Trees/Betsy Lerners
Firstlight/Sue Monk Kidd
Finding Water/Julia Cameron
Story/Robert McKee
The American Sign Language Handshape Dictionary/Richard A. Tennant and Marianne Gluszak Brown
American Sign Language: The Easy Way, 2nd ed./Barron's
Finding Your Writer's Voice/Thaisa Frank & Dorothy Wall
Writing the Breakout Novel/Donald Maass
The Complete Guide to Editing Your Fiction/Michael Seidman
Dynamic Characters/Nancy Kress

* I rarely read nonfiction cover-to-cover, and I feel quite guilty (haha) putting them here if I didn't read every single page. So, here is a disclaimer. If a book appears here, it means I read most of it ... or perhaps half? :-D

Feast of Books

2008-02-06T15:47:00.000-06:00

And the book craze continues . . .

But, they say that's the best way to learn to write, right?

Anyway. It's always interesting to me how one book leads you to another. I finished reading Amanda Eyre Ward's How to Be Lost early this morning, and in the author interview questions at the end of the book, she mentioned reading Feast of Love (Charles Baxter) because of it's poetic prose. I loved the movie (in spite of bad reviews. Nyah.), and had picked up the book at Half Price Books in December, so I thought I'd pull that one off the shelf next. I need some help with poetic prose at the moment. :-)

I've only read a few pages, so I'll let you know how it goes.

How to Be Lost was different. I liked it in the end, but it took me a little while to get going because it changes POV in some pretty dramatic ways, which threw me off a bit at first. Interesting story, though. Gave me some food for thought on POV switching, for sure.

And now it is time to put on my chauffeur hat so I can get two (still very eager about it) girls off to piano lessons. (Shh...let me tell you a secret--if you want your kids to practice their music, treat practice time like a privilege. They can only do it when all their other junk is done--homework, chores, etc. They will BEG to practice.)

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Super Student! (of more experienced writers)

2008-02-03T15:10:00.001-06:00

I finished my (25-page!) outline Thursday, and it's already a huge help to me. I've been doing the half-sleeping, half-awake, half-dreaming thing at night where the missing parts are writing themselves, and it's an amazing relief, let me tell you. Wait, is that mathematically possible? Sure, why not.

Let's just say, I was being way too easy on my characters, unlike, say ... Diane Chamberlain who blogged the other day about why she made Jon a paraplegic. Now, if you aren't a writer or regular fan, you might be a little concerned about that post until you read the fine print. ;-)

I'm doing my best to turn up the heat on my little darlings, and not be quite so protective. After all, if they deal with it all just fine, why on earth would you want to read about them, right?

I wanted to mention another resource I came across on the web for people in the writer boat. Therese Fowler, who's debut novel Souvenir is coming out in February with a huge bang, has a whole section on the side of her blog where she links to her posts about the mechanics of writing. (Scroll a good ways down the page, where you'll find a list labeled "The Writing Posts." I kept a few of those open the other day while I was working to remind me of some of the steps I needed to take.

I've been a reading fool the last few weeks, and last night I finished All the Numbers, another debut book by another Ballantine author, Judy Merrill Larson. I have a ten-year-old, and let me tell you, this lady had me wanting to go upstairs to my baby in the middle of the night and put her in a protective tower, a la Rapunzel. I don't cry very often when reading books, but I was a blubbering idiot Thursday night--at the end of the first 85 pages! Recommended ...

I'm excited about February. I feel like I'm suddenly making some awesome progress on my story, and if I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel just yet, I at least feel a breeze.

In writing, as in life

2008-01-29T23:15:00.000-06:00

You know what I've learned? That in writing, as in life, it's much easier to learn something first and do it right. But more often, as in life, you learn something by doing it wrong the first time. And sometimes the second time. And third. After that, you might just be stupid. (Here's your sign.)

I have a feeling there's no finite list of those things, and ten years from now, I'll still be doing many things wrong--at least the first time--and then looking for solutions I file away to use ahead of time the next time. In writing, as in life.

Fortunately, it seems, the things get smaller and easier to fix the longer you stick around and the more you pay attention.

So, I'm about 50 pages shy of being finished with my outline. In (some of) my moments of "This task is so boring I think I'll go read 50 blogs instead," I've tried to do some bookkeeping activities. Like ... how many scenes are in this story? How many in each POV (point of view)?

Which kind of leads me to curious questions like, "How long should a scene be?" and "How many scenes should there be? ... per POV?" And, a least common denominator, "What the heck is a scene anyway?" It seems simple enough, but strangely, the answer is trickier than you'd think.

I know there aren't hard and fast answers to these questions. However, I do believe the majority of published writers have gotten there because they've figured out the "magic" for getting certain things right. Fortunately for novices like me, many generous folks taken the time to share some of that magic through books or articles--some freely available on the Internet.

I found a couple of pieces tonight by Holly Lisle while taking a look at these questions. I haven't read any of her books, because I don't typically enjoy fantasy or sci-fi, but more often than not, my Google searches for writing craft answers have led me to her site. She gives short, conscise, and extremely helpful explanations. And often they're even funny, which earns extra credit in my book.

These are the ones I read tonight:

Notecarding: Plotting under Pressure (Hmm ... might try this FIRST next time!)
Scene Creation Workshop -- Writing Scenes that Move Your Story Forward

There's lots more to explore on her site, too. I like this one:
Creating Conflict: or, The Joys of Boiling Oil

So many lessons, so little time ...

Blogging the midnight oil

2008-01-28T00:04:00.001-06:00

Seems like I always end up posting on here somewhere between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m. Back when I first started taking my writing seriously, I spent this time working on my first manuscript...which is languishing at the halfway mark in a file somewhere. Then, I worked on my second one late, late at night as well. Hmm, which is languishing at the end of a first draft in a file somewhere.

With this third manuscript and the privilege of being able write "full time" for the most part, I've gotten into the habit of mostly writing during the day. It was a difficult transition for this night owl, but I think it's pretty engrained finally. My writing has benefited, I think, although I sometimes miss those late night sessions where my brain just seemed to float completely into the story and it was almost like being in a trance or something. There have been some scenes I've written for LOTH where I really needed to be in that mode and so I did still write late at night, and I'm guessing that will never change completely. But, for the most part, it feels really good at the end of business hours to see I have accomplished small writing goals.

Yet, I haven't been able to change my biological tendency toward being a night owl in the extreme so far. So, I tend to find myself giving into my inner writer and posting on my blogs or posting comments on others or emailing friends late, late at night.

I'm not sure why I felt it was important to tell you that. I must have fallen into a trance. ;-)

I finished reading Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen last week. Wowsers. I see now what all the fuss was about. I've meant to read it for several years now...since it came out, actually...but had been unable to locate a copy at the library and wasn't ready to part with the moolah. Got a copy for Christmas from my wonderful in-laws, though, and finally arrived at this book in my to-be-read pile last week after sprinting through The Memory Keeper's Daughter. Well, if that book was a series of sprints, Water for Elephants was a marathon. I couldn't put it down. I have my reading spaces in the house which I won't divulge in detail here for pride's sake, but Thursday evening, I carried it with me everywhere, finally sinking into my couch around 8 p.m. to finish it while everyone was doing their usual post-dinner, pre-bedtime stuff. My husband laughed at me because I'm not sure he's seen me quite that immersed. I seriously couldn't put it down. Anyway, I can't quite put a finger on what made this book so "unputdownable." You'll just have to read it for yourself, I guess.

Now I'm close to finishing Breaking the Silence, by Diane Chamberlain, one of my favorite writer bloggers. I'm racing through it, too.

All three of these recent reads have the gripping combination of historical setting interspersed with current day (flashback, really, although less so in Memory Keeper's Daughter), conflict specifically tied to those settings, and engrossing characters that I love. As an aspiring writer, I should probably listen to that.

Whoa-oa ... halfway there ...

2008-01-23T23:37:00.001-06:00

I reached the halfway point today in the detailed outline of my WIP. Two hundred pages condensed down into about eight so far. Shew. I think this is going to be an extremely helpful tool when I'm finally finished. I'm already seeing the gaps, places where I've renamed characters accidentally, and spots where the conflict needs to be cranked way up.

The tasty sandwich at my local coffee shop today helped a lot, too.

I'll probably trek over to the public library again tomorrow. I got a lot done there yesterday. The only problem with working away from home without a buddy is when you have to go potty. It's a pain to have to pack everything up just to make a five-minute detour. There were two LDS guys on mission hiding out in the library, too (it's been really cold here this week), and I almost asked one of them to watch my stuff. But, they'd been there a few hours already, and sure enough, when I returned, they had headed back outside to their waiting bikes. And for all I know, maybe they were just dressed like missionaries, waiting to steal computers from unsuspecting persons such as I. Naw, probably not. :-D

Out and about in blogland

2008-01-19T18:19:00.000-06:00

I think I'll talk about other people again today in order to direct you away from asking me questions about how much I got done again this week. (Cough cough)

So many of my favorite bloggers just had some good stuff to say this week. Barbara talks about the simultaneous disappointment/relief of finding out that her project just wasn't going to work, and moving on to a new one. I love her candidness.

Diane made me laugh with her post about why she won't write your life story. I commented that I'm not even published and people who know I'm writing tell me I should write their life story.

Carleen got me all excited about music, which truly doesn't take much, yet there you go. Her upcoming debut, Orange Mint and Honey, is just around the corner, (February 14, I think?) and is going to be a Target Breakout Book.

I walked around Target yesterday afternoon and felt alternately excited and overwhelmed about how many intriguing books they have on their very small shelf space. Excited because, well, books just do that to me. Call me a dork. Overwhelmed wondering if little ol' me will ever get to be one of those. (Yeah, I know, finish the book, Julie. That's the first step. Heh.)

Gail and I are reading The Memory Keeper's Daughter (Kim Edwards) for our mini book club at the moment. (Mini, as in just the two of us, and we talk about it while we're walking trying to move the sack of potatoes.) This is an absorbing book. Twists and turns at every juncture, and yet a steady pace, which has got to be a hard thing to pull off.

I did have some success in all of my resolutions this week, except I think I gained back the weight I lost in one meal at Carino's Italian Grill last night, so I can't move the counter just yet. (Darn that Gorgonzola cheese.) I also spent a whole evening napping in front of the TV instead of staring at the laptop computer. Perhaps I can actually do something another night. I bought this amazing little paint by numbers kit at Toy Joy in Austin several months back--you basically paint your own reproductions of some semi-known works on these tiny canvases. I intend to get that out and have some artist's dates with it soon.

The elusive end of the story (a/k/a breaking the rules)

2008-01-16T23:47:00.000-06:00

I'm still struggling with the last few scenes of my first draft of LOTH. I know I'm within about 25 pages of a complete first draft, and yet the words are not coming. I have a fuzzy picture of what I think is supposed to happen and how it's all neatly tied up, yet it's like pulling teeth to get the scenes down on paper.

I'm wondering if it's because I really can't know for sure how it's going to end until I do my revisions and make sure all the ducks are in a row, all the characters are present who need to be, all the points of view are the right ones, and so on.

Or, maybe I'm just lazy. Not sure. Maybe it's Maybelline. Or Facebook.

Anyway, in spite of my tendency to want to play by the rules here (i.e., write that crappy first draft to the bitter end, no matter what), I've started to revise. Well, what I'm doing first is a detailed outline of everything that's happened, who is present, where it took place, and so on. I should be able to have a pretty clear picture of the story as it is right now when I'm finished with that, and will be able to start cutting, adding, moving around, ramping up the conflict, and, you know, "killing my darlings." (But only if they have to go. Sigh.)

I'm planning to spend a big chunk of both quantity and quality time tomorrow and I believe I'll give myself a little while to see if those scenes will write themselves (in a manner of speaking). But if they don't flow, I'm moving on to serious revisions. It's time to get the show on the road. January is more than half over!

No matter how we try to follow someone else's suggestions in this crazy job, what they (whoever they are) say is true--what works for someone else may not work for me.

So, anyone else out there in writerland have this problem, or is it just me being ... um, me and not you?

It's a small world, after all, so why not check it out?

2008-01-15T00:08:00.000-06:00

Kathy Holmes raises an interesting point about social network sites (Facebook, MySpace, etc.). Do you join? How many? Which ones? We "old" folks are always one or two steps behind the high school and college students with these sites, and they are always moving onto a new one just when when the 'rents figure out how to sign up and sign on and see what their kids are up to. (Xanga used to be all the rage, right, but when's the last time anyone under 21 updated theirs?)

I got an invitation to join Facebook yesterday from a fellow college alumnus, and contrary to what I'm sure is my son's assumption that I signed up just so I could spy on him (mwah ha ha...), I actually decided it would be fun to see how many folks from college and grad school and high school were signed up, too. (TWO from my high school class, by the way ... including me. Hehe!) I've had a few fun catching up conversations already. It's a little less intimidating than sending a random email, and certainly less pressure for everyone if all you want is a little "Howdy, good to see you are still alive, and wow, your kids are cute and big!" type conversation. You can always continue on in private, longer emails if you care to.

At any rate, I'd think it certainly can't hurt as an apiring writer to expand the radius of people you know, or keep in touch with old friends, with the obvious caution that you don't do it only for that reason. People know when they're being used, but the people you know are also some of your best marketing resources when they trust you. (Hence, a disclaimer: If you read this after browsing to it from Facebook, I promise I really do want to see how you're doing! I'm not a you-ser!!!)

Wow, this is totally off topic, but Laura Prepon just came out on the Craig Ferguson show. I am really enjoying October Road here in the midst of the writer's strike and other shows winding down as their last recorded episodes show. October Road had kind of a shaky start last year, and I was only vaguely interested, but the storylines are really picking up some speed. I love the pizza girl/agoraphobic pair and Eddie and Janet. Prepon's on-again/off-again thing with ... um ... yeah, the main guy, whatever his name is, is still a little too predictable.

Guess I should add that show to my Facebook. Heh. See how smoothly I transitioned back to the topic? But, that's all I really have to say. I have to go check my wall.

Yep, another caution--we already spend too much time away from the page with blogs--wait until you see what a timesucker Facebook is! Of course, it's only been one day. Give me a few days and the new will wear off. :-D

Thinks to thought about

2008-01-12T23:07:00.000-06:00

I like Elizabeth Berg's article about her New Year's resolution. It reminded me of my own resolution to spend less time on the computer at night and more time reading actual books, only she said it a heck of a lot better. When I read something like this--her description of the way a book feels and smells--it reminds me of the reasons I don't think paper books will go away any time soon.

I just surveyed my 10-year-old, who claims lately not even to be that excited about reading, yet has a Nintendo DS Lite (Crimson!!) as an extra appendage, whether it seemed more exciting to read a book on a small handheld computer screen where she could flip pages with buttons or to hold a read book, and with no hesitation she said a real book. She couldn't exactly tell me why, except to say she just liked having it right there with her, and anyway, the screen would probably give her a headache. I asked if she liked the way a real book felt and smelled and she looked a little embarrassed when she said, "Yes."

I gave her the thumbs up.

I liked the reminder that purchasing a book costs less than going to the ballet or a hockey game, for instance, or for me, sometimes less than a movie ticket, and certainly less than most concert tickets, but we hesitate to spend this money for some reason. Like she said, reading a book takes more time, too, and can be passed around to others freely. What a deal!

For the record, I'm typing this on my new computer! I think I've finally made the transition from the Velveteen Hoss to S!N!T! (Shiny New Thang).

I'm making very little progress on my own resolutions so far, but very little is better than none at all, right?

Zzzz......

2008-01-09T01:15:00.000-06:00

Migrating to a new computer shouldn't be this hard. I've spent the last two days backing up files, re-installing software on the new computer, and trying to transfer files using Windows "Easy" Transfer. Yes, I put "easy" in quotes on purpose. Still not finished. All I really want to do is take the new machine to the coffee house tomorrow and work on writing. Simple enough, right?

You'd think.

Oh, for the old days when the old computer simply crashed and burned and in desperation we ran out and got the new one at a ridiculously high price and started over. There are certain good things to be said about doing it that way. Sustainability, schmustainability, right?

Naw, I really rather not lose my files and start over, and it's amazing that: a) I paid about a quarter for the new machine of what I paid for the old, and the new has more RAM and stuff, and b) even more amazing that the old one is still kicking along quite nicely, but is just rather huge and heavy.

And yet ... I'm still weary of this boring task. I suppose I should be grateful. Really, I am.

A little blog detour

2008-01-03T00:03:00.000-06:00

I write two blogs--one that's kind of a journal of my writing journey, and you have landed here. The other is what my friend Gail calls my "life blog," where I write about movies, music, family, and sometimes just naval gaze (like I don't do enough of that here, right? But still ... )

Because I know some of you guys read only one of my blogs, I sometimes like to double post if the topics fit. Sometimes they really don't fit in both places, but I would like you to read them anyway. To that end, I am directing you over to julielayne to read about my 2007 hero, because even though he doesn't have anything to do with my writing per se, he's still an inspiration to me, and inspiration is what keeps us going, right?

One of these days, I figure I might have to combine my blogs into one again, but gosh, I would have a really hard time deciding which way to go, so for now, I'll continue on with my split personality.

Brand New Year

2008-01-02T00:30:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year. The holidays are over, and it's time to get back to work.

My "goals" (resolutions, I guess, but that sounds so painful) for the year are to:

1) Submit at least one full manuscript to agents. Soon.

2) Lose 30 to 40 pounds. OUCH. The same 30 to 40 pounds I lost about seven years ago, durnit. Now, I know it's common to see weight loss as a resolution, but honestly, this is the first time ever I've put it down as one. In fact, I rarely make New Year's resolutions, much less make them public. But, this means I'm serious. I have too many health problems in my family history to shrug it away for another year, so I am making myself accountable to myself, and making myself vulnerable by putting it out here like this. I can't stand to make a self challenge public and not get it done. (Remember NaNoFiMo? Mwa Ha Ha ... Works every time.) Anyway, see how I've added a new counter over there on the right? I'm too lazy to look for one that counts pounds instead of words, so use your imagination, please.

3) Become more confident in my writing voice/learn more about "who I am" in that area. I'm planning to take Barbara Samuel's Voice 2 class to that end.

4) Last, but not least. And this might be the hardest one ever. Maybe more than losing weight. I plan to turn my computer off no later than 7 p.m. at least three nights a week. I still need to pick the days, but I believe doing this will be positive in several ways.

First, I spend a lot of time in the evenings just surfing and basically wasting time ... all in the name of learning, of course, and yet.
Second, I would like to have more reading time. I read about an hour every morning and every evening before I go to bed, which may seem a lot to you, but for me, that's hardly living.
Third, I just want to be more present with my family and husband in the evenings, and this is a way I can start. Our coffee table looks pretty ridiculous with all four laptops sitting there every night. Hehe. (Mine. Ahem, both of mine ... long story. Todd's. Ryan's, since he's home for the holidays.) My mom says Todd and I look very romantic sitting side by side on the couch staring at our laptops every night, and she's not talking body parts.

So, yeah, it could be an interesting year. What amazing things could come of all four of these resolutions? Stay tuned to find out.

Field trip

2007-12-18T14:26:00.000-06:00

Maybe this is doing things backwards, but maybe not.

Yesterday, I took a trip down to Waco with Heather and the kids. Waco is the setting for the story I've been working on for most of this year, and while I have driven through Waco and ventured about half a block off I-35 for McDonald's and potty breaks on the way to other places, I have never spent a significant amount of time there. Perhaps it seems strange, then, that I'm setting an entire story there.

Yeah, a little. But, on the other hand, it just works. I needed a smallish city within a fairly short distance of Austin, preferably a college town. I would have used Abilene, because I am far too intimately acquainted with that city, having gone to college there, but the location and proximity to Austin wasn't quite right. I did figure, however, that the feel of Waco would be similar to Abilene. Guess what? I was right. And it works for my story.

We drove around all afternoon with a one- and three-year-old entertained by their portable DVD screens playing Baby Einstein over ... and over ... and over again. Heather drove so I could keep my digital camera handy, and it was satisfying to find several locations that looked (pretty much) exactly as I had pictured them for my story. I was also able to get a good feel for the "lay of the land," which helps with small details as my characters travel here and there in the story.

A huge flock of birds had descended on the small shopping area where we made a quick stop before heading out of town to come home. One-year-old Darcy and I stood in the parking lot at one point and just gazed up, amazed as the flock flew back and forth over our heads. The birds were almost a solid black cloud above us. (Fortunately, Darcy does not have the same associations with "The Birds" most people my age do. She was more entertained than scared.) Alas, the odds of getting pooped on suddenly occurred to me, so we ran under an overhang to watch for a few more minutes while Heather lugged the stroller and Ian out of the car.

We figured out the town was trying to move the birds because the noise of shotguns startled us as we watched. I guess the mess and nuisance of such a large flock of birds is bothersome in downtown areas, so they hire people to frighten the birds with shotguns, which eventually moves them along. (To another city? Heh.) I'd be scared, too.

Anyway, it was a good trip, and a day of work for the story that was different and fun. Mixing things up a bit is usually a good way to pick up steam.

Four books and a party

2007-12-14T01:21:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I'm afraid to start reading new books when I'm being "very serious" about the writing. (Insert Bitter Writer face ;-) I worry I'll get distracted and spend more time reading than writing because I really, really, really love to read (really). Or, I worry I'll get so disgusted when I realize all the stuff I'm doing wrong that I'll just quit. Or, I worry I'll despair of ever writing as well as some of the amazing authors I come across. Or ... well, you get the picture.

Then there are those weeks when I start reading not one, but four books at the same time. Throw caution to the wind, I say. This is such a week. It's probably because I'm supposed to be getting ready for a Christmas party at the house Friday evening. Anything to distract myself from cleaning, decorating, or cooking. (And maybe from the kids' grades and the broken down car, too. Heh.)

So, four books.

For fiction I'm reading Cold Mountain (Charles Frazier) and Damsel Under Stress (the third in a cute series by Shanna Swendson). Two more opposite books you couldn't find, and thus, it's relatively easy to keep them straight. When I need help getting into a depressing funk (hahaha, I'm a writer ... as if!), I pull out Cold Mountain. When I need perking up, it's Damsel Under Stress.

Then, there's Forest for the Trees: An Editor's Advice to Writers (Betsy Lerner), and Dynamic Characters : How to Create Personalities that Keep Readers Captivated (Nancy Kress). I picked these up at Half Price Books a month or so ago, along with about ten other books, then promptly forgot about them until this week. I discovered the shopping bag while trying to dig out (remember, the party?).

The Forest for the Trees? Well, so far it's another one like The Courage to Write: How Writers Transcend Fear (Ralph Keyes) was for me. I never (ever) write in books. Unless ... they give me goose bumps and shivers while I'm reading. Then, out comes the pen, and everything that resonates gets underlined. Not that I'll go back and read again necessarily--I've never really been one to read books over and over, although that's changed little by little as I've been learning to write. Okay, come to think of it, I pull out previously read books and study them frequently these days. Anyway. I think the simple act of underlining what makes me say "Aha! Me, too!" just feels good. Let's just say, pretty soon, there won't be much not underlined in Forest for the Trees.

Dynamic Characters is a horse of a different color. I haven't physically written many words this week for my WIP. I'm a little baffled by the way this story needs to end, and so I've just needed to let it ferment. (And of course, there are those party preparations, or at least thinking about them, getting in the way.) The book on characterization, however, is bringing the bubbles to the top. I've read maybe the first two chapters, and some of the simple advice in this book is helping things in my story fall into place.

Every book is a different experience for every reader. I enjoy sharing when I find ones that have a positive impact on me.

Writing for bloggy treats

2007-12-10T16:38:00.000-06:00

I'm still hacking a bit, but I'm writing. I finally got my butt off the proverbial couch Friday and wrote a good, long scene, and then wrote another this afternoon.

I can tell I'm feeling better, because today (drum roll, please), I even wrote BEFORE I did my blog tour, and in fact, have not done that yet. This is a great improvement over last week. I love reading my blogs, but they can be a huge distraction, so if I can get the writing done first, I am much more productive. Then I get my blog treat. I guess you could say that makes me kind of like a little dog. Ruff. (Whatever works, right?)

Lots of discussion among writers about how they motivate themselves in the midst of our exploding electronic environment. Most say they either: a) give themselves a block of time to get email and blog reading out of the way, some with an actual timer, then write, or b) do their writing, then allow themselves their virtual networking time after they get their writing done. Some even have two computers--one with Internet access, one without. I've got two now, but that's a whole 'nuther story. (And they both connect to the Internet, sot that won't work for me!)

As much as I convince myself I can do the first and still be productive, I'm more likely to do better with the second.

After all, I'm the girl who goes into Target at 8 and comes out of her daze at 11 when they're closing, right? I like to wander around in a store, feel everything and smell it. (Unfortunately, they don't usually like me to TASTE it, durnit.) I do like to wander, and that's a fact, and blogs and email are no different. I love reading about what's going on with others, and following their links, which lead to other blogs, and, well, you get the picture. Before I know it, I can "waste" an entire afternoon--although it's not all wasted, I say. It just doesn't always help me meet my goals.

As much as many of us talk about wanting to be full-time writers, it's often still hard to sit down and actually do the writing, isn't it? Once you're started, it's sometimes a blast--things flow and before you know it, you've written pages and pages, and hardly remember the trip. Other days, it's just spewing out stuff for the sake of spewing it, and going, "YUCK!!" when you're finished, and "thank goodness for revisions."

But I'd still rather spend my time doing this, most days, than anything else in the world.