Screw hearts, bring on the monkeys

Guilt monkeys that is. Yes, it's Valentines Day, but bah, it's time for yet another creative explosion! (I'm a total romantic, can you tell?)

This project was more fun than a pile of monkeys. I'd go with barrel, but I don't have enough (nor do I plan on making that many) to fill one.

I'm blaming this sewing tangent on Adrianne too. She didn't even have the pattern for it. No, all she did was suggest something I'd already been considering: adding actual guilt monkeys to our NaNoWriMo menagerie. 

The pattern came from prowling the internet. Evil, evil internet! My starting point came from here. I added a tail, because it seems I have a thing for adding tails. And really, what's a monkey without a tail? It's just wrong, that's what it is.

These unimpressed little guys take about 40 minutes each from cutting to stuffing and are all hand sewn. I've found this is the perfect project for placing me in front of the tv with my kids - not something I normally do - which my daughter has enjoyed. Since this is an easy and mostly mindless project, I'll likely keep at it for a little while. Next up, monkeys with different expressions. *rubs hands together*

But first, I should get a little writing done before they start flinging poo at me.

Confessions of a recovering overachiever

Sorry for the sudden lapse of silence, but after a month-long blogging challenge with my discarded characters, I've needed a little time off.

Fourteen years ago, pregnant with my first child, I had lofty visions of all the wonderful and meaningful things I wanted to do for and with mhy children. It started with a journal while still pregnant, covering everything from current events, to family history and then milestones as my children grew up. I would soon become involved with their schools, their hobbies, and all things connected to them. We would make our own christmas cards every year, by hand. We'd make Christmas cookies for family, co-workers and neighbors. We had big family birthday parties. This was all great and wonderful and everyone was happy.

However, somewhere around hitting forty I came to the conclussion I'd run out of patience and time. Year after year becomes a rush of one project leading to the next with little to no downtime in between. You may remember that last year I buried my tattered superwoman cape. This year I'm going a step further. I'm allowing myself to put my overachiever tendancies aside and join the ranks of the average.

Last month I offically put in my notice that I will not being taking on the Young Writers Program next November. I also put in my notice that I'll be stepping down from Girl Scouts as of the end of this school year. And even bigger, (because this has been one of my pet projects for eight years now) I'm handing off half my elementary christmas craft program to my new assistant whom I'm training this year. Then, after next year, I'm done with that entirely. That's three huge time-sucking programs crossed off my list. Whew!

I will also freely admit that I didn't make Christmas cards this year. We're using up extras from years past. We're cutting back cookie production to immediate family only. My christmas tree has way more ornaments on one side than the other, and yet, my normally twitchy self is ok with that. Half my outside Christmas lights didn't work this year so I threw them away and I haven't replaced them. In fact, I let the kids put the working ones up and they look pretty atrocious. Oh well.

Now if all this cutting back will give me some of this mythical "free time" to do the things I like to do for me, I'll be a happy average woman.

The weasels have arrived

As NaNoWriMo season approaches Rippy McWeasel, our region's mascot, and I have been busy screening weasel recruits. These wily little creatures must have what it takes to become rabid cyborg attack weasels, hellbent on keeping writers in line during the November writing frenzy. It's not an easy task to keep a distracted writer on task. So many gadgets, and that darn internet and "just one more thing before I open up my WIP file". Shiny chickens, jobs, obligations, families, all those things that get in the way of writing time. Well, these weasels will have none of that. They must be heartless, able to withstand sobbing and ranting, pleading, rationalizations, deals one made with ones self, and downright bribery.

It's not every weasel that is prepared to become one of Rippy's elite rabid cyborg attack weasels. No sir. It takes years of training. That's why most weasels must take on cyborg parts to keep going after their natural lifespans would have taken them out of action. Yesterday, this first batch, stood on their stubby little feet for hours while Rippy instructed them in the ways of keeping writers in their seats.

To begin their field training, these weasels will be sent out into writer's homes this November. They will experience a NaNo and all that can distract a writer from writing 50k in thirty days. And in December, they will have either proven themselves worthy or slunk off into the shadows to live in shame.

So if you're contemplating NaNo this year, sit down and write your 50k. You wouldn't want to condemn one of these little creatures to failure, would you?

ZOMBIES!!!

With school (finally) back in session, it's time to dive back into writing and begin planning this year's NaNoWriMo regional events. While I have yet to accomplish any writing that is post worthy, I have made strides toward NaNo plannning so we'll go with that for today.

Which brings us to zombies!

Zombies make great raffle prizes. Who doesn't love the lurching, brain-craving, partially decomposed undead?

Books don't just attack me at bookstores. Oh no. They lurk at craft stores too! I saw this cover and couldn't resist.

Next week's project: Plot Bunny Zombies!!! Just look at their cute guts dripping out of their flufffy little bellies. Auww.

Reluctant Blogcation

I hadn't intended to take time off from all you fun folks, but working ten hour days, including weekends, has slaughtered my free time like a chainsaw dual in a defunct summercamp filled with half-naked, beer-drinking teens.

While I love paying my bills, I miss my writing time and wandering around on the internet. My back would prefer me sitting on the couch rather than running up and ladders and lifting heavy things. The rest of me would like that too.

I hope to be back soon!

Game of Thrones

So I'm a little late to the game. There's a reason though. Knowing how much I love George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire books, I knew this HBO series was going to be pure visual crack. Hearing how much everyone liked it so far only make the urge to dive in worse. But I've been writing, and wrapped up in my own little world, I've been able to keep the urge for distraction at bay. Until this weekend.

After Friday off writing because of a sick husband at home and too much work to do, then a long weekend of yard work, errands, a few buckets of sweat and a lot of sore muscles, my body cried out for an excuse to sit on the couch. I sat there, chewing my lip and wringing my hands, contemplating sneaking upstairs to begin the series alone on my computer. I could watch as many episodes in a row as I wanted, when I wanted. Oh joy!

My annoying voice of reason squeaked that this was a bad idea. I needed moderation or my writing time would get swallowed by GOT episodes.

I mentioned the series to my husband, who had not read the books and knew nothing about the series. Thankfully, he offered to check out the first epsiode with me. He liked it. Now (as I set here biting my nails and flogging myself) I'm stuck waiting for him to have the time and inclination to watch the second episode. Oh voice of reason, how I hate you right now.

Maybe I could watch them and then pretend I hadn't when he gets around to having time to view them. Yes. Yes!

Ok, that would only be even more annoying than me jumping up and down on the couch naming characters, explaining everything about them during the first episode and physically restraining myself from shouting out spoilers. Best to take a deep breath, savor the first epsiode and get some writing done. Right?

Right. But I still hate you, voice of reason.

Spring yard tour

I've still been busy writing, and am happy to report an average of 1,500 words a day. As such, I'm short on witty energy to share. Instead, I give you evidence that spring is in full bloom in my yard.

Spring wouldn't be complete without tulips

Carpet Phlox

New tulips I planted last fall.

The cherry tree is in full bloom.

The tulips have come back year after year. Gotta love that.

And the stragglers, those bulbs I find while redoing flowebeds that get thrown in a hole to see what color comes up.

Weasel attack: Eight Months early

Yeah, I know, NaNo is eight months away but I got this email last night and it reminded me of some of the raffle items I wanted to do for next year's regional events. Which then thwacked me on the head and urged me to create next year's regional logo. Since Rippy McWeasel was so popular last year, (even the newspaper reporter wanted to know more about him!), he gets a special place in this year's logo.

Working a ten and some hour day should have ended at that point, but the logo project called to me and the next thing I knew, two hours had passed, my husband had gone to bed and it was just me and Rippy hanging out on my computer like old times (last November). What do you think?

Dexter: my newest addiction

So I missed my usual monday post. I have an excuse. It's a good one, or not, depending on how you look at it. First, work has been absorbing all my creative juices so trying to write is like staring blankly at the monitor and drooling dust while my brain gasps and sputters. Then there's the fact that I've moved on to watching Dexter. How did I never hear of this show before? Oh yeah, I don't have the movie channel package on my already overpriced cable service.

Several writer friends mentioned that this show was made of awesome so I had to check it out while I was stuck in my brain candy binge, gathering inspiration, whatever title I give my distraction today. As in many other things, my distraction enabling friends were spot on. Since I also have a MC who is a killer, I'm finding it interesting to see how sympathetic one can be for a person who enjoys killing others. There isn't a whole lot in common between Dexter and my MC beyond that, and I've previously tried to tone down the enjoyment level of the killing as far as my novel goes. But in viewing, its still educational to watch--a good example how to keep the plot hopping and even if the MC isn't a sympathetic guy most of the time, he's damn interesting. Cops, killers, sex, a MC with serious emotional damage, drug users, relationships on all kinds of levels... lots of aspects to check out and take notes.

I admit, I'm disappointed that I called the big twist of season one early on, but that doesn't keep me from plunking myself down in front of my computer or tv every night and at lunch and during breakfast... This show is like crack. I swear. Not only is the MC a killer, but there are so many levels being juggled at once. He's works for the cops, he's in a relationship (two actually, atm), there are kids involved (not his directly) his female boss has a thing for him, his sister has as many issues as he does but of a different sort, a co-worker hates him and is on to his dark side, he's performing his own level of justice on the dregs of society and working hard not to get caught, he's got severe emotional family baggage, and now he's in NA to try to help his addiction to killing (which is rather hilarious in its comparison to drugs as far as addictions and the descriptions go) and did I mention the FBI is trying to solve his murders and his own sister and best friend are on the task force?

This is the stuff must-find-out-what-happens-next!?! plots are made of. Must take notes.

On the writing front, I'm going to be stuck in a waiting room with no internet access while my car gets fixed tomorrow for who knows how long. I'm not bringing a book and I can't work. That means I'll be trapped with my two half edited shorts that have been glaring at me for a month and some now. Eek!

My Netflix addiction continues

It's probably my fault for putting the television aside in favor of writing for so long, but now that I've unleashed the evil of Netflix streaming into my computer and TV, I can't walk away. In a few clicks I can check out entire series that I paid little attention to when they aired.

My addiction started innocently enough. Stargate Atlantis. I'd watched most of those as they aired, being the one sci-fi show I allowed myself at the time. But I'd had comments on my novel that I was too episodic, so I thought that investigating this episodic feel was a worthwhile endeavor. After I'd raced through the first season, the comment and how to fix the issue sunk in. Seeing how the episodes fit together back to back rather than once a week helped highlight my problem. Watching the other four seasons was purely out of weakness.

Farscape is limited to kid time. (Which in light of my next comment probably makes me sound like a bad mother.) I totally didn't remember the characters using 'bitch' several times in every episode. I remembered them using the made up curse words distinctively. Frell, I still use them. I guess you just can't replace bitch and get the same feeling across. Hmm. Something to ponder when using curse words, real and manufactured in writing.

My free time was getting far too Netflix-free so I decided to give Stargate Universe a try. When it aired, I was so pissed that Atlantis was axed (due to high production costs, which is the same thing that killed Farscape... which ugh, I'll rant to myself about quality sci-fi shows being cancelled. At least they actually ended both of those series.) that I didn't even give it a chance. Apparently not many people did, since it only lasted one season.

There seems to be two camps: those who didn't like the show because it was too much like a space opera (ie: the new Battlestar Galactica) and not enough like the original Stargate series which featured planet of the day and alien gun fights, and those who liked the show because it was like the dearly departed new (now old?) BSG. I'm in the BSG camp. Honestly, Universe also somewhat reminded me of my dearly departed Lost a little with all the flashbacks, visits home in other people's bodies and strangers being thrown together to survive in a hostile environment with few supplies.

While Universe had its shortfalls in cliched characters, convenient resolutions, and didn't I see this plot on BSG? moments, I missed 'good' sci-fi enough to make my way through the one and only season. It, of course, ended in a OMG who's going to die, everyone is in jeopardy ending that will never be resolved now. Darn you low ratings. If only they'd waited a while after ending both SG series to try to launch another, there may have been enough sci-fi starved people like me willing to tune in and keep it alive. Sometimes you've got to let people get thirsty instead of jumping on that hot fire. (Not necessarily five years thirsty, Mr. Martin.)

What was there to learn from Universe?

Allowing problems to be solved too conveniently does not make for compelling reading or viewing. Make those characters work, suffer and bleed for every step toward their goal.

Knowing that all the main characters will never die kind of takes the tension away. Don't allow the reader to think that you're not (wo)man enough to take someone out. I can't be heart-pounding, eyes racing over the pages, concerned enough to stay up reading until four a.m. to make sure MC makes it out alive if there's never a hint that the writer might really kill MC off.

Ending a chapter or episode with a OMG, what's going to happen next glimpse of suspense and then not capitalizing on it with the opening of the next is a big wasted opportunity for tension.

Making me hate a character and think he's the biggest ass in the universe then making me care about him by slowly revealing back story is a great way to sink your claws into a reader, but it's best to give me someone else to care about along the way or I'm going to fling the book into the fire before I get to the caring part.

Creating original characters in an established universe filled with years of hundreds of established characters seems impossible. If I find myself having the urge to include an unnumbered host of 'red-shirts' who will die or drift off with no direct impact on the rest of the characters, a techie who can fix anything once given a time limit to impending death, a commanding officer with repeated confidence issues, and/or a token awkward but brilliant kid looking for love, I shall flog myself and remember what I have learned.

The Battle of Snowman Hill

The neighbors might have thought me slightly deranged as I wandered amidst the hastily build snowmen with a paintbrush, but really, it's nothing new. Winter has brought penguins, dogs and dragons to my yard in the past, so why not a snowman battle?

It might have been the cold medicine, or perhaps a hope to engage my laptop bound son in an outdoor activity, but the snow was right and the temperature just above freezing so I indulged my creative urges. Bundled up and fortified with hearty Sunday lunch, I headed out into the front yard.

Why not the back yard? Because my son spent about five minutes outside, not helping, and I wanted him to have a good view of what he missing out on as he sat on the couch with his laptop in the warm comfort of our home.

My daughter helped instead. Which was nice, but she's much smaller and my cold wracked lungs were well worn out by the time I'd rolled most of the six snowmen's bodies, traipsed through the previously unmarred feet of snow in the backyard to the woods at the back of our property for appendages, and slopped all of the snowmen together. But she was having a merry time gathering icicle weapons for them and I was gaining good mommy points by the minute, so I persevered.

For the record, paint doesn't last long, not in the form you first paint it anyway. Good thing I grabbed the camera the moment we were done because they're faces lost all definition within ten minutes. The blood spread nicely though. Yep, snow men bleed red. Who knew?

Relaxing

Yes, yes, I'm writing and all that, but I'm also trying to relax more this year. You know, keeping that crazy superwoman six feet underground. So far, I've been fairly sucessful.

I've found joy in critiquing again. After a thousand some crits in three years, I was getting a smidge burnt out. I stepped back last October and took a few months off. That felt darn good. Now, I'm getting back into sharing the writing wealth, reading some great stories, flogging people with rubber ducks (its a long story) and meeting writers I've not worked with before. So far, I've avoided overcommiting myself in that regard. So far.

Writing has been slow, but I've just about go my second short ready to spring into submissionland. Which is good, since that one has a January 30th cut off. Novel work is on hold at the moment during operation re-freakin-lax.

So what the heck have I been doing? Watching tv. I don't do that very often, but my evil husband signed us up for Netflix. Evil Netflix has full seasons of my favorite, long-lost tv shows. Call it reenergizing the creative juices.

My mornings are filled with episodes of Stargate Atlantis. Evening brings an episodes of Earth 2 shared with my children, which is perfect for introducing kids to Sci-fi--very famly friendly compared to much of what is out there currently. Next up in the queue: FarScape.

What a better thing to share with my kids, than my love of sci-fi tv? I have to bring them over to the geek side before they get too exicited by friends and teen stuff. I don't have much time left.

What are your favorite sci-fi shows?

To paint or write

In admiring Ian's paintings over at Views from the Bald Patch, I was urged to post some artwork of my own. I must admit that I put my painting supplies away almost twenty years ago, the oil sort anyway.

Way back in high school (we won't talk about how many years ago that was), my creative writing teacher wanted me to pursue creative writing. My art teacher wanted me to pursue art. I did my best to make both of them happy, drawing pictures for the school creative writing book and doing some writing for it.

Then there came an arts contest. All entrants could only enter one category. I could write or I could paint. Darn it. Both teachers tried their best to sway me to their cause. It came down to the fact that I personally liked my art teacher more. I painted.

I had a thing for fantastical peacocks at the time

(that floated on backgrounds and had absolutely no contact with the foreground)

I, along with the other involved students, went to the art show. I distinctly remember it being a long, awkward ride to some college in a car with my guidance counselor (our chaparone), his wife, and three other students. None of us won anything, but we all got a certificate. I have no idea where that certificate is now, but I still have my painting. It currently resides in the back of my husband's closet where it won't haunt me with the idea that perhaps I should have written something instead of painted.

It's not all sad though, I did enjoy many years of staining my carpet and clothing with paint after high school, and I still enjoy painting things, just not on canvas.

Christmas ornaments

Gargoyles

and Fairies, amongst other things.

Mad Men

My husband recently declared that we just had to watch Mad Men because some of our friends loved it and he was sick of feeling out of the loop. Therefore, we conformed with the masses, glued our behinds to the couch and got watching. And watching we have been. Hooray for season DVD sets.

I like the show. I do. However, I'm so frustrated with the amount of skipped opportunities for tension and mystery time lapses between episodes that I want to smoke a carton of Lucky Strikes and pound a few bottles of gin, vodka and/or anything else sitting around.

People have babies and nothing more is said about it until way later, months go by making me wonder where the hell we are at the start of each episode, people argue and then are fine without any explaination, people leave meetings and we find out later that they were fired. There's plenty of tension still there, but I can't help but think of all we are losing because of missed opportunities.

Neck deep in room temperature vodka and without a secretary to bring me more ice, I pledge now to persue all avenues of tension when writing.

Interesting things about Mad Men I have noted while speeding through the first three seasons:

No one ever says "goodbye" before hanging up the phone until season three, episode nine - yet when this momentous dialogue does happen it's as if the character is offended because the person he's talking to didn't say it. For some reason, all calls in this one episode end in "goodbye". Did no one actually say goodbye in the 60's? I don't remember ever noticing that before.

In a scene where the family goes on a picnic: when they are ready to go, they pick up the picnic basket and shake out the blanket, leaving all their trash on the grass. I honestly yelled at my tv, chastising these characters for their blatant 1962 littering ways. In fact, I was still mad about it hours later. Yes, its was acurate for the time, but still infuriating with our current social consciousness.

The writers earned massive bonus points for cutting off an up and coming antagonist's foot with a lawnmower in an office in a way that totally worked. I bow to the NaNoesque absurdity of it.

Everyone will sleep with everyone else as soon as they kiss or share the slightest googly-eyed gaze unless they are gay, then they have the magical power to say no.

The first think a man will do after arriving home from a long day of drinking at the office is pour himself a drink.

You can't film a scene depicting the 60's without at least one person smoking unless its a scene in church. Even then, I'm sure they are all being directed to think about smoking.

We're almost caught up to season four. I'm finding spoilers are everywhere. Don't tell me!

Another monday

They have a way of coming around every seven days, don't they? Unlike many people, I like mondays. They are the return to order around my house. A day when I can pick things up and they might stay put away for several hours because everyone else has gone about their monday routines. For a brief moment, I might get a glimpse of my house as I see it in my head, that tidy, newly redecorated place that breathes calm into my often hectic life.

Every weekend has been busy and rainy, driving me to even further appreciate my mondays--the day when mother nature likes to spite all the work away from home people by offering sunshine and perfect temperatures. Working at home does have certain benefits. Assuming the work I need to do that day isn't the sort that requires me to remain inside, only to gaze longingly out the windows like everyone else.

This monday also marks my summer return to the groove (or at least in much closer proximity to the groove than I've been in a long while). I have decreed it so.

My latest book addiction session was just what I needed to catch my breath and take a step back.

For the past few months, work, projects around the house, and child obligations have severely hampered my writing time. But now...

The kids, home for summer break, have fallen into their own mostly self sufficient routines and have found friend's houses to hang out at on occassion. My flowerbeds (if I could get a few consectutive days without rain, it would be most appreciatated) are almost done and are to a point I can finish whenever I get to it. The house is mostly put back together after the big redecoration project--only one slipcover and eventually putting in the laminate flooring that is taking up space in my garage remain to be completed. My annual (one month late thanks to my fractured ankle fiasco) garage sale is done as if this past weekend, and all the stuff that didn't sell is put away or crammed into the back of my car waiting to be dropped off at Goodwill. My job board is as clean as its been in months after busting my behind lately to push jobs through.

Join me in a deep inhale exhale. Ah, that's better.

Creative leak

I did actually get some writing done today -- editing on my current short story and writing a couple pages of Trust's sequel. Yay for that. Yet, I've found myself with an excess of creative energy lately, and it's been bursting out all over.

My afternoon was spent coating my old dining room table in fleckstone to get rid of its outdated santa fe look that we purged from the rest of the house ten years ago. The leak really started two weeks ago when I decided I couldn't take our living/dining room anymore and it needed to face lift. Preferably, right now. That didn't happen, but I have been working away at it here and there, picking out paint for the walls, sewing slipcovers for the furniture, recovering pillows, laying out the area for the laminate flooring I want under the dining table, and painting said table.

Today, as I was innocently checking my blog reading list, I came across a post by Liana Brooks about doing a blog facelift, and darn it, there went three hours. Dinner was a couple hours late. I was too busy figuring out HTML and taking pics of my favorite fabrics from my huge stash for potential background images. Don't interupt me people. You know where the kitchen is if you decide you're starving and can't wait any longer.

So there you have it. Like the new look? Hate it? Suggestions?

Why I didn't get any writing done last night

I sat down to write, but before starting, I checked my blogroll because I'd had a busy day and had not yet had the chance to do so. That led to reading a post that reminded me that I needed to write a post. Which made me look at my bookshelf for my next Novel in a Blender selection. At which time I spotted George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones. Which let me to his blog to see if the long awaited next novel in the series, A Dance with Dragons, was anywhere near a press yet.

Sadly no.

(If you haven't yet indulged in A Song of Ice and Fire yet and enjoy fantasy, of the epic sort -- done correctly with not a single boring part -- with a wide array of characters that leap off the page, where near everyone gets a chance to be both good and evil depending on the pov, get yourself to the nearest bookstore and start reading.)

Which led me to wonder how the HBO series of A Song of Ice and Fire was coming along. Which let me to this wonderful video that puts pictures with the cast names. I must say, I'm very impressed with the casting. Everyone is much like I'd envisioned them.



Though I've seen the cast list before, seeing them in person makes me entirely giddy and now can't wait for the series to air. The bad news is that reports say that won't happen until spring of 2011. Though, I suppose that gives me a chance to reread the series first so I can fully appreciate the visual feast.

Oh, and I suppose that also gives me time to get some writing done.