Sunday, July 15, 2012

Dragon myself through the week

From this side it looks angry.
It's been a crazy busy week. You'd think being down one kid (he's working at Boy Scout camp for two weeks) would make for a little extra time, but no. Work has continued to devour what would usually be my writing time. Which also is my critiquing time, so sadly, I've also fallen woefully behind there too. On the slightly brighter side, I have been able to devote some subconscious effort to percolating submission pieces for A Broken Race, which is nearly ready to head out into Queryland.

While I've been so busy, I have managed to carve out a little craft time with my daughter. She's been in a 'let's make dragons out of clay' mode lately. Who am I to argue? So I sat down with her and a ball of air dry clay and we made dragons.

At this angle its more friendly.
Admittedly, I made this dragon over a month ago (work has been at crazy level for quite awhile). I then moved it to the corner of my kitchen counter where stuff that sits around collects. I figured that if it sat there, I'd remember to make time to also sit with my daughter and paint it. Great intention.

It sat there for a week and got hit with some random something that I set on the counter. One wing, a foot and several back spines fell off. I swore. Profusely. Then I got my glue gun out and fixed it.

I moved my repaired and still unpainted dragon to my desk in an 'out of the way' place so it would be safe until I got around to painting it. While it was in this safe place, it seems that I managed to smash it with a tape gun in a flurry of shipping packages for work. All that stuff that broke before, fell off again. Only this time, the wing shattered. Again, I swore profusely. I didn't fix it.

The poor dragon and its broken bits sat in a pile of clay dust for several weeks. You might say it was daring me to fix it and I was ignoring it because I was still pissed that I'd broken it again before I had made time to paint the darn thing.

Finally, after a late dinner, I hauled out my box of paints and my glue gun. The dragon got fixed. Again. It also got a base coat. Then it sat on the table for two days until I stepped away from another twelve hour day and a late dinner to begin the brain numbing process of painting scales. Four days later, its finally done.

The dragon has now been placed in an actual safe place. And if fate has it's way with the dragon again, at least I have these photos.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Getting away from it all

From my pond: Suicidal stag beetles.
For the record, they suck at swimming,
but keep coming into the pond anyway. 
The juggling of submissions is still going on, as is an overwhelming work load. So what do I do? Leave.

I planned to be gone for most of four days, but only manged three thanks to the insane heat and deer flies. I hate deer flies. I hate mosquitoes too, but together, they are a force I'd rather not reckon with. So yes, my answer to the near triple digit heat and bugs? Leave.

It wasn't all bad though. I did get to relax a little. I swam a lot in a gorgeous little spring-fed lake. And I sweated. A lot. Probably lost a few pounds. The night sky was beautifully black as opposed to home with all the city lights interfering. And there was much reminiscing.

I hadn't been to that campground since 1989, the last year we went camping as a family when I still lived at home. After my mother's sudden death, all family camping ground to a halt. It was sad but fun to go back to visit a place where we'd all relaxed together. Now my own family has been there too. It was a peaceful sort of reclaiming happy memories, part of my ongoing twenty-three year and counting search for closure sort of thing.

Now that the camping supplies are put back in order and stored away until next month, laundry is done and the house is relatively cleaned, it's time to get back into the swing of things.

Sort of.

I'm still counting today as being on vacation. Which means I'm working as little as possible. I'm not editing. I'm not designing and I'm certainly not producing anything. I have answered all my emails and I did finally manage to read Steven Brust's Dragon this weekend. That's only been sitting in my TBR pile for a year now, along with far too many other books. Oh, free time, how I miss you. I enjoyed hanging out with Vlad again. It's been years, and he's one of my favorite characters to read.

Tomorrow, I'll get back to work, but today, darn it, I'm relaxing.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Camp, edits and balls

Trala runs screaming through the paper-lined paths. "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!"

"What the heck are you talking about?" Delilah asks, peering upward. "Holy crap. She's right. Run!"

Nekar stands his ground beside Ms. Wildstar. They both watch as a wad of cloth plummets to the floor. Nekar gives it a minute to settle before examining it closer.

"Why the mass of terrycloth?" asks Blue.

Ms. Wildstar shakes her head. "It's a towel."

Nekar extracts a crumbled post-it note from within the wad and straightens it. "She Who Taps the Keys has officially thrown in the the towel on Camp NaNo." 

Delilah creeps out from the paper wads. "She finished?"

Blue holds up his translator. "Perhaps you should get one of these." He sighs. "It's a phrase meaning-"

"What's on the post-it note?" asks Ms. Wildstar.

"Story titles." A steady whump, whump, whump sounds overhead.

Trala takes another hysterical lap. "The sky! It's falling!"

Blue snakes out a tentacle and trips her. He whistles to himself as he backs away. 

"Is she submitting again?"

"Five stories at once. Hence the juggling. If you hear any hint of swearing. Do run. Worse than the sky, balls will fall on your head."

Ms. Wildstar nods. "That explains the editing snow of random words that fell thickly over the weekend." 

Nekar reaches over to pluck a shred of paper from her hair. "Hey, you got a nod on you."

"Oh god, get it off!" She shudders. "They were everywhere! I thought I'd burned them all."

"We should make sure there aren't any more laying around. The damn things breed like dust bunnies." Nekar leads Ms. Wildstar into the pathways.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Still working on that New Year's Resolution

Back in those last few minutes of 2011, I pledged that this year I would embrace the word Less. I am pleased to announce another milestone in my efforts toward that end. This weekend I wrapped up my four year stint as a Girl Scout leader.
While there were some proud moments during those years, I can't say that this is something I'm going to miss terribly. It was something I let myself get roped into for my shy daughter's sake, and because I thought I could bring something to the program that our troop was missing - namely a craft lady and organization.

We've decorated and tool aprons,assembled hygiene kits, and this year, made blankets for a local women's support organization. We've made cards for service people and place mats for the elderly. We earned bunches of badges, sold car loads of cookies and went on some fun end of the year reward trips together. We hung out at a big mall and made Girl Scout build-a-bears. We went to a big water park where some of the girls had their first big night away from home in a pretty awesome hotel. We went camping, which many of our girls had never done. This year we went to a smaller water park and also went horseback riding, which, again, many of our girls had never done. We went roller skating and bowling discovered local art museums, pet stores, parks and countless other field trip locations.

These girls all went into this as girls who went to school together, but came out as friends. There were even some unlikely exchanges of phone numbers and promises of hanging out over the summer happening on the way home yesterday. I hope they follow through and look fondly on all the pictures they took together in the coming years.
Both of us current leaders are passing the torch to a new pair of brave souls. I wish the new leaders luck and patience.

Why wouldn't I miss what seems so sound rather like a warm-fuzzy-fest from this post?

No more pressure to attend the monthly leader meetings and no more planning meetings cramming into the frantic end of summer. Two less after school troop meetings a month - which also means no more last minute phone calls of:
- Did you get snack or do I have to?
- OMG! Do we have paperwork from everyone for this field trip today?
- I'm so far behind at work, I'm going to be late. Oh crap, you're going to be late too? Ahhh!

No more:
- Wading through piles of emails from the local leadership
- Feeling guilty that I couldn't squeeze more of the fun local opportunities for the girls into my schedule
- Filling out troop paperwork
- Having to run to the store to get last minute craft supplies for projects I didn't have time to set up because of work.
- Having to call thirteen parents to remind them of what their daughters need to bring to our next event.
- Composing last minute notes to send home to try to avoid those thirteen phone calls before an event.
- Waiting for twenty minutes at the end of every meeting for the same two parents who never remember to pick up their kids even though our meeting gets done at the same time every time.
- Dealing with other leader drama from the other troop at our school.

Yes it was fun, but it was a lot of work too. And so, with fond memories intact, I will undo a knot from my superwoman cape, allowing a little more neck room, and walk a few feet closer to the sunset.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Back to the Positive Side

The last thing I expected to see when I
looked out my second story window was a
groundhog staring back at me.
True Story.
It's been a busy week around here. The Family has been talked to about their dog. It seems the frolicking Great Dane wandering my yard was the perfect excuse to haul myself over there to speak to them. All is as good as it will get for now. Maggie is no longer left out for the entire day. So hooray on that front.

Someone got into my car Monday night and stole all of the cash out of my purse and all of the coins out of my daughter's purse (that I hadn't even realized she'd left in my car) thanks to us forgetting to shut the garage door overnight. *waves goodbye to hard-earned money and gestures to the thieving little punks that took it*

The charger for my laptop decided this would be a great week to die--thus completing the trifecta of suck. Good thing I have several other computers around here to fall back on in such emergencies. The new charger arrived yesterday so I'm back in business...and on the couch.

On a better note, I've got my summer family vacation all planned out. We're road-tripping to Yellowstone. Buffaloes and bears beware!

Camp NaNo has mostly been an utter failure on the actual writing front, but hey, I have been motivated to get last month's shorts into the jaws of critiquers, stories polished and suitable markets sought out for submissions.

Next week promises to be slightly better for writing as I won't have child transportation duties smack in the middle of my prime writing time. Wish me luck!

Monday, June 11, 2012

The dog saga continues

First I'd like to say that dear Maggie hasn't been on her front yard tether in two days for more than a couple hours at a time. So yay for that. Oh, and they've mowed. Woohoo!

In other events, I received an irate letter from the family today in the mail. Obviously Mr. Officer did absolutely nothing to attempt to cover events. AND he managed to get almost everything I said on the phone and to him in person wrong. Holy crap, is it really that hard? I swear I wasn't speaking in code or practicing my Klingon.

The dog is tied up outside for eight to ten hours a day with no shelter other than a tree. Her water bucket is tipped over every day so she has no water other than when they first put her outside (which I can't attest to because it's tipped over by the time I get up and see her outside) - and one day, no bucket at all. They come and go, but never check her bucket, even when it's plainly tipped over. The dog doesn't like being in the front yard, looks abused and shows major anxiety anytime someone walks down the street - which happens all the time.

So I get a letter explaining that Maggie eats five meals at day and is not underfed. If they leave food outside for her, she could get worms. The water bucket is there every day. It's behind the tree so it must be that I can't see it. So they'll put the bucket in front of the tree in plain sight for me. My dog is outside all the time and they don't know if it has water or food but they don't call the police on me. I should have just come over and talked to them or at least checked the situation for myself rather than calling the police right away.

Holy headdesk batman. I've gone over to try to talk to them about their dogs many times over the years. They don't answer the freakin door. I'm the one who has chased their dogs (sometimes three times a day) around my yard and put them back in their fenced in (albeit with broken slats) back yard - because Mr. Family, who is home during the day, is sleeping and doesn't answer his door. Ever wrangle a frolicking Great Dane who's bored and wants to play? It's gobs of fun, I tell you. I went over and gave their dog water for goodness sake.

My dog is out either with me or for less than half an hour at a time on his tether - which is not in the front yard and he has access to the door to let me know when he wants to come in and, yes, he has water both inside and out. That wasn't the point at all. The point was leaving the dog out all damn day with no water or shelter where she could feel calm and safe. But apparently that's really hard to convey so now I'll have to do that myself or just live with having irate neighbors that I already don't speak to.

There are days I really don't like people. This is one of those days.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Animal Control Fail

We interupt my frantic day and my stress over not having written anything in two days to bring you a rant on Animal Control and Stupidity.

There was a family who lived in a house with three dogs. A big dog, a medium dog, and a little dog. This family loved their newest big dog and didn't much care for the medium dog. They didn't care much for the little dog either, but this story is about the medium dog, we'll call her Maggie.

Maggie used to bark and howl and annoy the entire neighborhood until the family invested in a shock collar. The neighborhood was happy. The family was happy. Maggie wasn't so happy. In fact, Maggie acted like she'd been severely beaten and was extrememly aggitated anytime someone came near her- not violent, but very scared.

For whatever reason the family chose this week, they decided the front yard was a good place for Maggie. Not the backyard that's fenced in where the three dogs are usually kept. No sir, a tether on a tree in the middle of the yard. There, Maggie spent her day pacing silently, around and around the tree, backing away as far as her tether would allow any time someone walked down the street.

They neglected to give her water the first day. The second day they put out a black bucked in the nice warm sunshine for her to drink from. The third day, the bucket was knocked over from the night before so she had no water (though a neighbor brought her some). The fourth day, the bucket was back. The fifth day, a nice 84 degree day, nope, no water to be found.

The family tied Maggie outside at 8am and brought her in around 7pm every day. Other than those times, they ignored her completely. Even though she stood right next to the driveway where they came and went throughout the day, they didn't even bother to look her way.

A neighbor finally called animal control, explaining to the nice dispatch lady that this animal was being neglected, that it was hot and she had no water, that for a change, the family was home all day but still no one had come out to attend to Maggie in any manner. Other than the tree she was tethered to, Maggie had no shelter. Had a storm come while the family was gone all day (as they usually were), poor Maggie would be screwed. The neighbor explained that she wasn't on speaking terms with the family because they very rarely answered their door and they didn't treat their kids much better than Maggie (but that's another rant). As such, the neighbor would appreciate if the animal control officer could visit the family and inform them how to be decent people responsible pet owners. And no, please do not stop over afterwards and tell me how it went (who really wants this? Anyone? really?) If they felt they must call to explain how the issue was resolved, that would be fine.

And so it came to pass (five more hours with no water later), that the animal control officer drove down the street. Did he pull in to see the family with Maggie PLAINLY tied up fifteen feet away from the street right in the freakin middle of the yard? Oh no. He pulled in to ask the neighbor if she had a dog that she kept tied out all day. *headdeskfacepalmflailingfail*

Meanwhile, the family wrenched back their curtains and peered through their filthy, crayon-scribbled windows, across their foot and a half high lawn (except the circle that Maggie has trampled down), at the animal control officer talking with the neighbor. Subtle much (for everyone involved)?

Redirected (and seemingly not having consulted any of the information that the nice dispatch lady had taken), he drove the ten feet across the street and went to talk with the family. They didn't even bother to come outside, they spoke through a screen door. The animal control officer left a couple minutes later.

The result: Maggie is still outside on her tether without water (an hour after he's left) and it's pretty obvious to the family which neighbor called animal control on them.

Thank you, officer. You have been so damn helpful.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

The Crazy Cometh

From my yard: Sunbathing squirrel
"Nothing to see here. I'm just a shingle.
Move along."
"What is that tapping sound?" asks Ms. Wildstar.

Nekar cocks his head and listens. "I'd call it more of a banging."

Blue checks his shiny new translator and jabs a tentacle upward. "I'm getting a distinct Kablam Kablam Kablam."

"I'm pretty sure that's not a word," says Nekar.

"It might be. You don't know them all," says Ms. Wildstar.

"I've been keeping an inventory of everything that's fallen down here since I arrived. I've yet to see that one."

Blue rubs his bulbous head. "Please don't imply that this translator is also malfunctioning."

Ms. Wildstar gasps. "No. It can't be." She shrieks. "Oh great word processor save us! She's dancing with that nano zombie--remember that cute boy? Tyler, I think his name was. Didn't one of you take care of him, Nekar?"

"I thought we did."

Blue accesses his database unit. "Did you burn it? According to your all-knowing wiki-"

"We don't get access to wiki down here. That's for She Who Taps The Keys. But hey, what else does the all-knowing wiki say?"

"Nothing." Blue hides his database unit behind his back. "I must remember to keep my advanced knowledge from the locals. It causes nothing but problems. Rule one, Blue. Must remember these things." He slinks away.

Nekar watches Blue leave and scratches his chin. "What is going on on up there?"

"I think She Who Taps The Keys has lost her mind."

"Are those bruises on her forehead?"

Ms. Wildstar peers through a pair of binoculars. "It sure looks like it."

"Where the hell did you get those?"

"I uhh...found them." Ms. Wildstar darts into the mountains of crumpled paper.

"Will someone please tell me what is going on around here?" Nekar yells.

A post-it note flutters to the ground at his feet. June. Camp NaNo.

Friday, June 1, 2012

On your mark, get set, June!

Camp NaNo has arrived. I spent my first day working. Not even working on my computer where I could sneak in a lunch break of writing, but out doing vinyl installations. When I finally got back home after enough errands to make me dizzy, I still had to work until 10pm to catch up (sort of) from being out of the shop all day. So what do I do when I finally get time to write? Yeah, I create a regional camp logo because my work brain wouldn't shut off.

So what am I writing this month? Well, I fully admit I never intended to embark on a new novel. Instead, I plan on reaching my 50k by writing whatever project I'm working on that day. I know I can write a novel in a month. What I need to do is clean up some projects and finish them. So yes, I'm pretty much bending this challenge to my needs. I need to make time to write. That's the challenge.

First up is rewriting a couple opening chapters of Trust - the motivation hammer and the percolator aligned in a way that made the angels sing. Or maybe that was just my ears ringing... Either way, I've found a way to fix some issues I've been told where there and I knew were there, but I couldn't see around my baby to do what had to be done.

After Trust, the plan is to open the dusty file of Swan Queen and see if I can't find out where the hell that story was going. It needs the last third written and the rest needs revising. The poor novel is several years old and I don't know about you, but my writing style significantly changes over the years.

That should be enough to keep me busy for the month but if I hit a rough patch, the percolator is working on a short story set pre-A Broken Race, and I have a couple other short story starts from May and a failed YA short from two years ago that's been knocking at my creative doors with the invitation to get dark. I might have to RSVP to that.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

May writing challenge summary

Blooming in my yard today: Sweet William 
So what did I get out of this crazy A Story A Day In May challenge? Aside from the stress of realizing there was no way in hell I could work long days AND come up with a story idea AND write it to completion every day, I managed to birth five short stories I'm pretty darn happy with, one so-so story and five starts that either I ran out of time to work on this month or didn't go anywhere. My percolator also got quite a workout.

Was it worth trying? Yes. I wrote more than I would have if I hadn't roped myself into participating because I felt I had to write because I said I would no matter how darn busy I was.

Would I do it again? Perhaps. But only if I went into it prepared with my own prompts/ideas for each day I planned to write (you don't have to write every day and I had at least intended to take Sundays off). The provided prompts didn't work for me / didn't inspire me / sounded like things I would normally avoid writing or complain about in a critique. I'd hoped to work with at least a couple of the provided prompts but not a single one lit a creative spark. Perhaps my spark is just fickle - it was certainly lacking in fuel even on a good day.

So what did I end up using for prompts?
Tickle and A Little Thing Like Death came from upcoming magazine prompts.
Sunset Cruise was inspired by my recent reading of Friedman's Fables.
Taking a Breather was inspired by a 100 word story I wrote a year ago. Though, it completely twisted from what I set out to write. I love when that happens.
Found came straight from the percolator. I sat down. Words came out. And as a bonus, they made sense! It's pretty awesome when that happens too.

Tune in during June to follow my trials and triumphs of participating in Camp NaNo. 

Sunday, May 27, 2012

May Writing Challenge: Week 4



Before we get to the weekly update of shame, I'd like to take a moment to thank Ian over at Views From The Bald Patch for the Kreativ Blogger award. The discarded gang thanks you too (and Blue promises not to eat you).

According to the Kreativ Blogger rules, I need to:
1. Thank the blogger who nominated me for the award, and provide a link back to their blog.
2. List 7 things about myself that the readers might find interesting.
3. Tag 7 other bloggers, providing links to their blogs, and letting them know.


Seven things about me that you may find interesting:

1. My favorite flower is the Iris. They smell soooo good. Here are some of my favorites from my yard.

2. I got married in my garage. On Halloween. Our big costume party reception (also in the garage with a huge tent attached) was a riot. As a bonus, one forgets our anniversary.

3. My favorite hair color is blue. The problem is that it stains everything that it touches so I've not been blue for a while now. There's just to much cleaning involved after the dyeing takes place.

4. I can't watch other people brush their teeth. No sir. It grosses me out to no end. When there are teeth brushing scenes in movies or on tv, I'll look away until it's over. Like people who get all squeamish shots or gore, that's me with foaming toothpaste.

5. As a kid, I grew up processing deer. Hey, I live in Michigan. Deer season is holy around here. Not being a hunter, I took care of the other end - the skinning, sawing, cutting, grinding. I spent most of my elementary through high school years hoping that I'd washed all the blood off my hands and arms before I went to school. In fourth grade, I took a brain to school in a cool whip container for show and tell. No one would touch it. Wusses.

6. I have OCD-like issues with necklace clasps and tags. It gets worse when I'm drinking because that cancels out my introverted tendencies and propels me across the bar to fix any stranger's offending tag or clasp I spot. Not fixing it and knowing it's there makes me so damn uncomfortable and distracted that its just easier to go take care of it. However, after my friends caught on to my 'I'm just going to go talk to that person over there for a minute' issue, they started flipping their tags out and wearing their necklaces backwards just to bug me. Since then, I've gotten better about controlling my urges-mostly just to spite them.

7. My favorite color is grey. It used to be black but as I grew older, my favoritism faded. As a side note, spelling it gray drives me nuts. Yes, I know that's the proper way to spell it in the US, but I work with color all day and in everything I do, it's spelled grey, so darn it, that's how I spell it. Don't correct me.

Rather than specifically tagging people, I offer up a free invitation to my regular blog readers. Consider yourself tagged. No go forth and share seven interesting bits about yourself!

And now, onto the topic of shame:
A Story A Day In May update:


May 21: Didn't get any writing of note done at all.

May 22: Wavered on quitting this crazy challenge all together and worked on finishing up the first round of edits on A Broken Race. Damn that feels good to have it all sitting pretty on its second draft.

May 23: Ripped the lid off the percolator and pulled out a story idea from last week. Wrote and finished: Found - a 2,800 word short story about a little boy and hiding.

As much as I'm not fulfilling this challenge very well, I do love the feeling of writing a complete story and calling it done in a day--not counting percolating time, of course. At least I'm coming out of it with more written than I otherwise would have made time for during this insanely busy month.

May 27: Oh hey, surprise, thanks to working long hours, I haven't written anything in days. Unless an awesome idea hits me, I'm now going to devote my scattered energy and precious few minutes of writing time toward preparing for Camp NaNo which begins in four days.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

May Writing Challenge - Week 3


A Story A Day In May update:
(a daily log of  victory and shame)

May 14: Took a break from writing today (or trying to write) and finally read Hunger Games. All of it. Today. Because that's how I read (devour) books. I was very disappointed in the ending. I hate 'buy the next book to continue the story' endings. A story should end, leaving me the choice to continue on with what happens next or not.

I don't usually read YA, but I'm percolating my June Camp NaNo project--which is to revise (and write in the last half and ending of) an attempt at a YA fantasy. I figured getting in the YA mode of thought might help get the ideas flowing. Overall, I liked Hunger Games. It was an easy, enjoyable read and had some touching moments. However, I kept waiting for something really drastic or unexpected to happen but it never did. Maybe this says something about me when twenty-two kids dying horrible deaths inflicted by one another just isn't drastic enough to wow me.

May 15: Yanked last week's failed story from the percolator. Got the first couple hundred words down and realized it still has no goal. It is slightly more funny though so hey, that's something. I shoved it back in the percolator. Worked on catching up on crits and revising A Broken Race instead.

May 16: Got a good idea for a story but beyond the opening line, didn't get time to write it down. Maybe tomorrow. On the other hand, I did get some more revisions of A Broken race completed.

May 17: Wrote opening scene for as of yet untitled story and have the rest all laid out in my head. I'm liking this one--it's inspired by a failed short I wrote during NaNo two years ago. Spent the rest of the day prepping for annual garage sale.

May 18: Ran annual garage sale singlehandedly AND worked then volunteered for four hours at night at school for PTO event. No writing.

May 19: Garage sale all day AGAIN and cleanup. Worked on the ending of story from the 17th in my head, though I didn't get a chance to write any more of it down on account of crashing, exhausted and with a migraine into bed at 8:30pm.

May 20: With the garage sale done I was really looking forward to a day of writing after my busy week. I curled up with my laptop, got yet another idea for a short that brought together several ideas I'd had floating around for quite some time and started writing. Damn that felt good! That is, until my husband reminded me that we had agreed to spend the day at our property picking up the thousands of sticks from over the winter. (insert excessive amounts of internal swearing.)

In summary: This week sucked for writing.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

May Writing Challenge: Week 2

A Story A Day In May update:
(a daily log of  victory and shame)

May 10: Too damn busy.

May 11: Total percolator fail. Planted flowers outside instead.

May 12: Tickle - a 1230 word story about a stalker alien. I rather like this one.

May 13: Sunday is my day off of writing - but I did percolate a little so we'll see what Monday brings.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

May Writing Challenge - Update 2

A Story A Day In May update:
(a daily log of  victory and shame)

May 7: Taking a Breather - 1850 words - A very dark attempt at a mermaid story. This one was loosely inspired by a 100 word sentence story I wrote a year ago. It needs some work, but I'm fairly happy with how the story turned out.

May 8: Here's a short story about why I didn't get time to write: I woke up at 4am with an allergy attack and got back to sleep at 6:30, half an hour before I had to get up. After seeing the kids off, I worked like a maniac. At noon, I ran to pick up one child from school for both of our dentist appointments. Then brought said child home to eat lunch while I worked, then dropped child back at school. I finally had time to eat lunch. Then more work, but I ran out of time to drop off orders for shipping. Dropped off Girl Scout snacks at school, then dropped off shipments. Ran back to school. Loaded up car with Girl Scouts and went on a field trip. Came back to school. (Noticing a central school theme for the day?) Got rid of all kids but mine. Dropped that kid off at home and drove to other kid's track meet. Met other Girl Scout leader there to exchange paperwork and watched the half of the track meet I hadn't missed because I was late thanks to the field trip. Ran home with track kid. Made dinner and shoveled food in my face. Drove to a Girl Scout leader meeting. Sat through an hour of women blathering to get my needed paperwork exchanged / picked up / stuff for the girls. Drove home. Talked on the phone for an hour with the other Girl Scout leader who couldn't make the meeting. Then I dealt with Boy Scout emails from people who had three weeks to order shirts for their boys, but didn't and now want to know if they can have them tomorrow. (Um no.) And now my zombie ass is sitting on the couch staring off into space. Not the kind of staring that means plotting, but the drool from the corner of the mouth kind. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

May 9: Document 9: The percolater coughed up a little something. I put in sci-fi, it came out fantasy. I asked for comedy, it came out depressing. I wiped it up with a tissue and put it back in the percolator. Moving on.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

May writing challenge: Week 1

A Story A Day In May update:
(a daily log of  victory and shame)

May 1: Mary's Garden - 870 words of literary something I'm rating just above 'Meh'. I blame my hurried and lackluster effort an a hectic day topped with horrible allergies. But hey, it's got a beginning, middle and end so I'm calling it a success on that front.

May 2: Total  fail. There's something about two volunteer projects and an eleven hour workday that isn't conducive to writing a darn thing. Though I did find a prompt I'd meant to work on a month ago and put it in the percolator.

May 3: Total fail. See above.

May 4: A Little Thing Like Death - 1,840 word futuristic love story. The percolator paid off! The ending came to me last night. Loving it (as of finishing it five minutes ago).

May 5: Document 7 (untitled as of yet): 500 word beginning of sci-fi humor that just isn't clicking. It's been in the percolator for weeks but it's coming out strained. I'm going to let this one percolate for a few more hours and see if it goes somewhere in my head rather than wasting my morning with banging my head on the keyboard.

Sadly this means I'm pulling in my pre-May story, Sunset Cruise to bring my first week total to:
2 good stories
2 meh
2 fail
I'm taking Sunday off. I have a hangover on my calendar for May 6 (and a volunteer obligation later in the day), so unless the percolator hits me hard, there will be no writing.

Monday, April 30, 2012

The story ideas, they're attacking!

So I signed up for this writing challenge in May - 31 stories. Short stories. The only stipulation is that no matter what the length, they must be a finished story (finished = beginning, middle, end). But the ideas! They're haunting me early! It's like someone turned on the faucet, and I don't have the right wrench to turn it back off.

Let's just hope the creative flow stays running once May hits.

I woke up with an idea. One of those ideas that won't shut up. Ever have one of those? I get them from time to time and generally, those are the stories that end up working. This one just sat there screaming at me until I got out of bed, opened my laptop and started writing.

The weird thing was, this is the not the sort of thing I usually write. In fact, I've never written plain old general fiction before. I'm a genre kind of girl. It blame it on the fact that I'm currently working my way through (meaning it sits in my car and I read when I'm waiting to pick up my son from track) Friedman's Fables. Which also isn't the kind of book I'd normally pick up, but there were slim pickings in the sections where I pick up books for my NaNo writing group prizes and it seemed like something anyone could get something out of. For the record, it is exactly that.

It's April 28, and I've just given birth to an 1,800 word short story called Sunset Cruise that I'm in love with (for at least today). For the record, I'm holding this in reserve as one of my 31 stories in case I miss a day because darn it, I wouldn't have even had this 'problem' if the challenge hadn't nudged my creative faucet.

Update: Two other ideas are knocking at the door. I'm fending them off for now. Hopefully they'll gather some backup and mob me tomorrow.

Friday, April 27, 2012

May Challenge: I should be committed

Whether that be committed to writing or in the psychological sense, you be the judge.

It's nearly May. It's not near November. It's not even near June when I plan on doing Camp Nano (Because, yes, I am insane, thank you for asking.) But I'm nearing the end of edits on A Broken Race, and I'm not ready to dive into another novel project until I get this one wrapped up - which means a synopsis and query head banging session is in my near future. That leaves me with finding something writerly to occupy my time while my percolator finishes a few things and the last two chapters go through critiques.

This is where the evil little mention of 'hey there's this writing challenge in May' comes in. No, no I really shouldn't. But darn it, the seed is planted! Enter: A Story a Day in May. Witty name, isn't it? What is it? Exactly that. One short story each day in May. (Or the days you commit to.) I haven't done flash fiction in a while, so I'm thinking that's my goal. Short and simple, one a day. I can do that, and who knows, maybe one of those shorts will blossom into something larger later on - like in November and I actually am totally committed to writing.

Will I hang out on their website? Probably not, I have enough distractions in my life, but I have signed up and I will be writing. Care to join me? *cough* Fred? *cough*

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Weaving a novel

My favorite part of editing came upon me yesterday. That moment in working on a novel that the light bulb stops flickering and stays lit. The point where my percolater goes *bing* and the questions I've been pondering are suddenly answered. I want nothing more than to curl up with my laptop and connect all the dots that I've just seen before I forget the knowledge my subconscious has just bestowed upon me.

For me, writing a novel is much like weaving fabric. I start with thread. Some of it is pretty crappy quality but I weave it in anyway because I don't have enough of the good stuff to make the design I see in my head. The thread knots. It breaks a few times, so I tie it back together. Occasionally I even use the wrong color. Hey, I never said my rough drafts were pretty to look at.

Once the fabric is done, I take it off the loom and watch in horror as one side pulls all crooked because I wove that section too tight and another section has huge gaps because I wove it too loosely. I spend weeks pulling out the crappy thread, inserting good thread, and adjusting the weave until it looks uniform. But when I show my cloth to other people, they point at the knots and the spots where the pattern doesn't quite line up. I spend a few more weeks fixing everything until surely it must be just right.

And somewhere in there it hits me--the point where I see that the pattern is much more intricate than I'd first thought. And I know just what to add to create it! Who knows, I might even add a few sequins for a little sparkle. (In this case, they were black sequins--the sparkle was quite dark.)

I've still got a little embellishing to do, but I'm liking what I see. What does your moment when all the threads fall into place feel like?






Friday, April 13, 2012

Playing along with Lucky 7

No, I wasn't tagged, but I was intrigued. And really, what better way to tune out not one, but two mother freaking robins now pelting my window, than by scrolling through my WIP to see if it passes the Lucky 7 test?

Bird lover disclaimer: These birds have covered my deck railing in bird poo because they sit there all day between attacking my window and sitting in the tree ten feet away when I bang on the window. I put big white clings on the outside of my window. I put a huge freaking hawk cling on my window. I even taped a 3ft by 4ft piece of paper to the outside of my window (which blocks a lot of my needed natural lighting, I'll have you know) and still, the stupid robins are hurling themselves at the very edges, were a one inch strip of window is still there. (Hey, I need some sunlight, all right?) What the hell, you stupid, poopy robins? What the hell?

So this Lucky 7 thing is to see if your WIP holds up to the 'is this interesting all the way through test'. Something should be happening on every page. The rules to the Lucky Seven are as follows:
*Open the document for your current MS/WIP
*Go to page 7 or to page 77
*Go to line 7
*Copy the next 7 lines (sentences or paragraphs) and post them exactly as they are written. No changing or cheating!

Here is the designated excerpt:

He felt her neck. Dead. A perfectly good breeder, dead. Dread took hold of him. “Did Jack kill her or you? What happened here?”

The Simple backed away. He shook his head, but didn’t utter a word.


Nothing better than a body to spice things up! If you feel like playing along, consider yourself tagged.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Banging your head on the window

As I type there is a Robin banging itself against my picture window. Repeatedly. I rather feel like this Robin.

I spent the majority of my Easter plunking away at chapter twelve of A Broken Race. Yes, it was fully written and all, but I didn't like it. It had repeated information and seemed to be missing some vital connection points between Chapter nine and fourteen. So I added them in. Ta Da! All fixed!

Oh hell. The previously 3,500 word chapter is now 7,000 words?!? *insert Robin body slamming the window*

And there's no tension at all? *more Robin*

But we need the connection bits or the story gets lost between point A and B. Sigh. *insert sleeping on it*

All my pretty pastel Easter words are getting flushed. I just spent the last two hours of my morning reworking the first half of the chapter to add some tension and severely reduce the word count. Thank you Robin, for understanding my frustration. Oh, and it's your reflection, you idiot! Quit doing that!


I'm off to hang something on the window and contemplate the second half of chapter twelve. I hope your day is less frustrating than mine and Robin's.




Sunday, April 1, 2012

Fools, Writing and Eggs

Being April first I feel like I should have come up with some fantastical fib to attempt to fool everyone with, but I decided to spent my creative energies elsewhere. Instead I've spent yesterday and today catching up on edits for the previous three chapters of A Broken Race. Yeah, probably time better spent, but a fib would have been fun too.

Only five more chapters to run through the critique mill before A Broken Race gets fully spit back into my hands. So far so good with only a few minor noted hiccups. I know, I've just cursed myself, but I am truly happy with the feedback so far - especially from those who have caught some staging slip ups on my part.

In other creative news, it seems my Easter egg project post has been selected as a finalist in the Easter Craft Challenge hosted by Happy Hour Projects and Here Comes the Sun. I feel I've already won by having this project done weeks ahead of time (rather than next Saturday when I would have realized I didn't even have the Easter decor out yet.) So thank you to the lovely hosts of this challenge for getting me thinking about Easter much earlier (on time) this year. If you'd like to stop by and check out all the finalists and cast your votes, here's the link.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

A sprinkle in the well

While my creative well still need a few days of torrential rain to get anywhere close to capacity, things are looking up. I spent the morning (when I should have been working) putting the finishing touches on one of the shorts that has been glaring at me and started in on the other. At least I feel like I've accomplished a little something on the writing front.

Now I just need to get to last week's chapter edits. Oh, and that work I put off this morning. Bad me.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

My creative well runneth dry

It's been a hectic couple weeks around here. I've not done any writing beyond editing A Broken Race. The Percolator is giving me glimpses at how to cut Trust's word count before it tries another foray into queryland. Healer is glaring at me. No one likes short stories glaring at them. Especially kinda creepy ones. I'd intended to have that one revised and back out in submissions but that just hasn't happened. Children of the Leaves is looking like its about ready to gang up with Healer any minute.

I should probably keep Blue close while I'm sleeping. He's be happy to eat anything at this point. His translator is still in the shop. Poor guy...err...umm...male alien?

So what the heck is keeping me from writing? Workity freaking work work.

The not-quite-but-sorta-in-this-case problem is that I have a fulfilling creative day job. (Which has also become an evening job recently). Thanks to a somewhat overwhelming workload, my creative juices are being sucked dry. By the time I collapse in front of my writing computer, I'm running on fumes. Keeping up with edits is all I can manage at the moment, and I'm a week behind the critiques that are coming in so 'keeping up' is a relative term.

On the plus side, bills are getting paid and we're planning a vacation this summer. Let's just hope the Percolator doesn't explode before things mellow out a little around here.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Eggs, Spring and yet another creative distraction

Mother Nature decided to make spring come to Michigan during spring for once. It's kind of crazy, because in all my years this has never happened. We might not have snow, but it's still cold and usually raining.

With the first day of Spring coming in just three days, we're (vastly) enjoying temperatures in the upper seventies. I've even cleaned out a few of the more protected flower beds close to the house (because this IS Michigan and for all we know, we might have two feet of snow by next weekend). Crocuses and daffodils are flowering. Have I mentioned how crazy this is? We're several weeks ahead of schedule here.

And so am I.

Easter usually hits me as an 'oh crap, that's next weekend?!?!' event. Which means our Easter decorations usually sit out for a whole two weeks (maybe). This is a little sad, because we have a long running tradition of painting wooden Easter eggs every year and I'd prefer to enjoy them a little longer after our effort in creating them. This year, we're on top of things!

When my son was born fourteen years ago, I had this grand idea of painting an egg for him every year so he'd have a little memento to take with him when he eventually moves out. Yeah, I was kinda planning way ahead, but this comes from a similar thing my mother did for my sister and I when we were little. We picked out a new Christmas ornament each year, and when we moved out, we had a pile to start decorating our own tree with. Well, I do that too, but the overachiever in me had to one up my mother and pull in a second holiday.

But now I have two kids and a lot less time. You can probably figure out which years were more of a last minute rush than others from this photo. We've done glitter, and little designs. That second one in the bottom row was finger painted by one year old fingers. And some years, I've actually had time to sit down with my tiny paint brushes and have some fun.

My son is rather past the excitement of painting eggs. In fact, he'd probably much rather calculate the number of eggs he'd have by the time he moved out by pi and multiply by the circumference of Jupiter and then applying that to some ungodly number theory game he learned in math.

Thankfully, my daughter is my mini-me and loves painting so she paints her own eggs now, which frees me up to take over the task of creating one for Mathboy. He also loves Nerf guns, which is why, this year, I decided to use that particular phase to decorate his egg.

Ok, so it's not particularly Easterish. I gave up on that years ago and went for documenting what ever they are into at the time.

My daughter has hermit crabs. So yep, we have a hermit crab egg.

A dragon egg? Sure, why not.

Swords? Definitely.

My daughter was a little easier. Some flowers, glitter and more glitter! That worked for several years before she started painting her own.


A couple years ago it occurred to me that I should make a few eggs for myself or I'll be left with none when these kids finally do move out. Tie dye was fun in egg form for something different.

So how does one make one of these things? 

It's pretty easy. First, get thee to a craft store and buy a bag of wooden eggs. You might notice that mine are different sizes. Some years I had left overs. The medium size come four in a bag. So do the small ones. The large ones are sold individually. Some years I had to go with whatever size was still on the peg a week before Easter. Hence, we have an assortment. 

If you're fortunate, you might find a brand of wooden eggs that are round on the bottom. Most are not. This is ok really because it makes it much easier to stand on the table to paint and dry. Look for ones with the smallest level of flatness on the bottom. You won't notice that once they're all painted and piled in a basket.


 Then you'll need some acrylic craft paint. Just a little goes a long way. Gather some brushes, water and some inspiration and you're ready to go.
 Paint a base coat. You can either paint a solid color or water the paint down a little and do a wash. I'm rather fond of the wash so the wood grain shows through a little. For this year, I did a wash of mix of pearl white and pearl blue. If you opt for the wash, it dries very quickly and you can get right to painting.

If you're going to add glitter, you'll need wet paint to for the glitter to adhere to. Be aware that painting over glitter isn't the easiest thing so only put glitter in the areas you don't plan on doing anything else with. You could also add the glitter to smaller spots at any point by shaking it onto any wet paint area - making little dots or squiggles of paint works wonderfully. 
 And then paint your design. Yep, it's pretty simple. I'm a fan of long, thin bristled brushes, mostly because it better hides the shaking my hands do these days. I usually do something more in the random design arena on the opposite side of actual painting so it can look Easterish if it ends up with right way in the basket.

And then there's the other side. 

At this point, I write their names and the year on the bottom and bring it outside for an overall shot of Krylon clear coat. The clear coat also seals in any glitter.

Once it's dry, it goes in the basket--where it will come out several times as the kids go through the pile and organize them by year (as my daughter did in that long picture), and chat about which ones they painted, and hide them, and find them (or I find them a month later). The best part about them is that they don't chip, they don't rot, you don't have to find a way to eat a dozen hard boiled eggs and they make a great conversation piece year after year. 

And now I can check that little project off my mommy list for year. Hooray!


Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Time to get motivated

Ever feel like flinging your uncooperative character across the room? Well now you can! Want to stomp on their stupidity? Literally crush their limbs...err...whims? Yep, you can do that too.

Made from gloves, which I'll toss out the trendy term 'upcycled' to pretend I'm up on the lingo, these little guys (No, I didn't use that extra finger to make them gender specific) are ready and waiting for your abuse (a.k.a. motivation). They are posable and padded for to protect your knuckles.

I'll use one of my current characters as an example.

"Hey 152, can I talk to you a minute?"

"Okay."

"So in that last chapter, I thought I had issues with William slowing the pace down with all his tidbits of history."

"The Williams are bad."

"Yes, yes, we know that. But it turns out William wasn't my problem. It was you!"

"Me? What did I do?"

"It seems your killing people, even by accident is making you difficult to sympathize with. You're going to have to cut that out."

"But, it's not my fault. It's what I do. I don't want to change!"

"Oh yeah?"
"Okay! Okay! Rewrite me! I'll change! I promise!"

Yep. They work. And I feel better too. Win win!

Character motivators, coming to a OCGR Nano raffle near you. Or me. Yeah, mostly near me. Sorry.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Victims of the Knife: Malfunction

A distant scream yanks my attention away (yet again) from editing A Broken Race.

I spin my chair around and scan the paper covered floor. There, in the corner by last November's dismantled ream wall, characters run around like they've lost their minds. Delilah is on her knees, sobbing. Nekar throws adverbs left and right as if searching for one in particular. Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him shouts threats on the top of his lungs.

 The object of his threats comes into view as I draw closer. Blue sits in the middle of a bloody, uniform-strewn clearing. He appears to be chewing something.

 "Blue, what the hell are you doing?"

"Having a snack." He holds up the sleeve of one of the uniforms.

 Holy crap, there's a hand dangling from it! "You've eaten the Barthromians!"

 Blue smiles around his mouthful of pale flesh. "They were good."

 "Since when do you eat humans?"

"I don't. They were aliens. They just looked like humans."

Ms. Wildstar taps me. "He has a point. About them being human-looking aliens, that is. You said so yourself." I glare at her. "Weren't you the one screaming?"

"That was Trala." She points to the quivering woman on the ground beside Delilah.

"Oh. Weren't you supposed to be introducing Blue to everyone? How did this happen?'

Ms. Wildstar sighs. "He said he was hungry. I went to get him some food." She holds out a bowl of discarded undefined fantasy novel 'food'.

"Seems he was too hungry to wait." I pluck the new alien from his messy plate of a clearing. "Blue, seriously, what the hell? You ATE my Barthromians."

His eyes, on their foot-long stalks, blink at me unabashedly.

Nekar groans. "That was horrible."

"Shut up." I turn back to Blue. "Well?"

"I thought I made my intentions quite clear when you introduced me to everyone. I said I looked forward to eating them."

"No. I'm pretty sure you said, meeting. Guys?"

The gathered discarded characters nod.

"See? Meeting. Not eating."

"Stupid translator." His tentacles sag. "So when they were running around screaming as I tore them limb from limb, it wasn't because they were excited?"

"Um. No."

"Ooops."






Friday, March 2, 2012

Victims of the Knife: The New Guy

From the shadows under my desk comes a concentration-busting drone of sobs. I turn away from edits on A Broken Race and search for the culprit.

I discover a blubbering blue mass of tentacles. Ms. Wildstar sits beside it, patting one of the long, thick appendages. She glares at me. "What did you do to him?"

"I wrote him a nice letter."

"You call that nice? You dumped him."

"I dumped him nicely. I have other projects to work on and his wasn't going anywhere. Remember my resolution of LESS? This falls under cutting losses so I can devote my story-fixing peroclating time to stories that have a hope of getting published."

"But you hoped his story would get published. Why would you up on him?"

"He was created for a specific prompt. When he was rejected, I changed him for a wider market. He never quite flowed right after that. We covered this in the letter." I turn back to my laptop and the more promising story waiting for me.

A tugging on my leg proves just as distracting as the sobs had been. "What now?"

Drooping eye stalks atop a climbing mass of blue tentacles make their way up my leg. His prolific tears soak into my pants.

I sigh. "Since you're intent on not going away, I suppose you want to meet everyone?"

He bobs his eye stalks.

"Everyone, this is Blue. He's an alien. He's blue. Thanks to being horribly misled by our government, he's now very paranoid and will not be taking any vacations in the desert. He enjoys filing thorough reports, good food, females and the familiar comforts of his spaceship. And apparently most things beginning with the letter F. His dislikes are people that won't listen to him when he tells them their world is about to be destroyed, his boss, probes of any sort, and misinformation."

Blue raises a tentative tentacle and waves it. A shrill female voice says, "Hello." Blue turns a shade bluer and bangs on his translator. A booming male voice says, "Hello. That's better. Worthless piece of malfunctioning crap. I look forward to meeting all of you."

"Happy now?" I ask him.

"For the moment. Got anyone around here that can fix translators?"

Ms. Wildstar beckons to him. "Let her get back to work before she axes someone else out of spite. I'll show you around."

I let the two of them be and settle back into editing in silence.




Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Absence makes the heart grow...balls?

Dear short story,

When I wrote you well over a year ago, I loved you. You were witty. You were dark and you made me laugh.

Then I took you out to meet my friends. They didn't get you. They confided that you weren't quite right for me. That maybe you weren't as funny as I found you to be. Some were gentle, knowing that I loved you, while others outright said that we'd never work. Their words made me sad because I really thought we had a future together.

That's when we did that little stint in heavy duty counseling. I told you what I loved about you. You offered to change the things I didn't. We worked hard on our relationship for a few weeks. Tweaking things here and talking it out there. We even tried a little bit of a different direction, but it was never quite as fun as it was at first. We both knew that.

You went away for a while, promising to come back when the time was right. I moved on, though secretly waiting for the day when you'd show back up, all polished and trim, ready wow me and bring me back to that wonderful feeling we first had.

But it's been over a year and I hadn't heard from you. So, wondering how you were doing, I peeked in--not that I was stalking or anything, honest. You agreed to meet and I was excited. But when we sat down to catch up, all I got was a clammy, limp handshake.

You hadn't polished anything. In fact, you were far more lackluster than I remembered. Those weeks of intense counseling ruined you. They sucked out your humor--dark and misunderstood as it might have been. They turned you into something I'd never intended you to be.

While I had captured our magical first days together on my flash drive, we're too different now. I've moved on. That magic is gone. It's time for you to move on too. Thanks for the laughs, short story. We had some good times together. But its over. I hope you understand.

-Jean

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Some Cyborg Weasel Fun

Immersed in editing mode as I am while A Broken Race works its way through its first round of critiquing, I've been staying busy with other little creative projects to get my 'make something new' fix. Sewing has been fun, but since spend most of my workday in front of a computer, sometimes its easier to sneak in some creative moments there.

So last night, I retired my two year old cyborg weasel cling and borged this little guy. Now he's armed and ready to stalk me during all those times I'm wandering around on the internet rather than writing.

I'd attempt to take some better close up pics of all the little details but the darn glossy finish made it very difficult to get even this pic to turn out half decent. Who came up with the idea of a glossy finish on a laptop anyway? Windex and paper towel manufacturers had to be in on it.

Thanks to Ian, I just had the realization that I have the file for this. Duh. How about I just crop some bits of it for close ups? *smacks forehead*






Wednesday, February 22, 2012

The temptation of a shiny new plot

I'm sure you've been there, set on a plot, in the middle of one, bored with one...and then along hops a plot bunny. It sits there, staring at you, enticing you with its promise of something better, something fresh, sparkling and new. Ooooh shiny!

It captures you with its hypnotic stare. Never easing. Never resting. Taunting you while you slog through your current project. Sowing seeds of doubt over which thing you should be working on.

"Just take a few days to get to know me", it says. Try this out. You might like it. You might like it a lot better than that thing you're working on.

But you know what? If you give in to the plot bunny... more will come! They breed like...well, bunnies! Lock them away until you need a new idea, but don't give in to their hypnotic stares. Oh, and keep them separated!

Yes, another NaNo raffle prize is born. Bunnies, monkeys, birds... what could be next?




Saturday, February 18, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday: A Broken Race 3

Time to hop back on the SSS train. This week we meet the Matron and William. William is pretty ticked that I picked one of his less than shining moments to share with you, but he'll have to get over it.

In this scene the Matron isn't happy with the fact that a Jack has managed to break into the women's room and harass her charges.

“You take care of this, William, or we’ll all be sorry. You hear me?”
He put on his most placating smile. “I will.” 
“Oh save it, you impotent ball of fat. This is about reviving humanity, not about getting me to stop nagging you." 


Check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts here.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

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.


Thursday, February 9, 2012

A little bird told me

My efforts to cut back on my various obligations has led to a little extra time which has in turn lead to a creative explosion. Not only have I been writing more lately, other projects have demanded to be worked on. My sewing machine has been getting a workout.

These Babbling Birds will be part of this year's NaNoWriMo prize selection. Ever wish you had one of those little birds everyone claims told them the juicy bit of info? Well now you can have one. Babbling birds are sure to offer all the best gossip on what your characters have done in their past or what they might do in a given situation. Who's going to hook up, keep a slave in the closet, or re-gifted that birthday gift from their mother and got busted? These little birds know and they can't wait to tell you. They really shouldn't. No, really they couldn't. But if you must know...

This little project was inspired by my fellow ML, Adrianne. She's always suggesting things that light my creative fire. Darn you and your creative distractions! She made this pattern for cute valentine gifts. I twisted them to avian gossip slingers. I'm sure this says something about us, but I'll let you draw the conclusions.

You can find her pattern and step by step instructions here. Along with not so innocent intents, I added wings, a fabric tail and button eyes. I would also like to add that good old cotton fabric is ideal for this project. I had some heavier stuff sitting around for other projects (which will be featured here soon) and tried it on the cream-colored birds, but as you see, they look a bit stiff. It was also much harder to turn their beaks right side out.

As a slight side blaming note, this project was encouraged by my need *cough* want *cough* to try out the Drtiz Tube Turner I'd purchased months ago (for yet another sewing project that I haven't really started yet beyond cutting some pieces out). These are awesome tools. I shall never sew small pieces again and dread turning them right side out. Now its so easy! I used it for the birds themselves and the wings and tails. The rounded dowels that come with the kit also are prefect for pushing stuffing into all those little hard to reach places-like beaks.



Friday, February 3, 2012

In search of a little funny

In my effort to be less this year, I'm seeking out ways to be less stressed. Laughing seemed like a good start.

The first book I read this year, Sara Barron's, People are Unappealing  made me laugh inappropriately in all sorts of places. When I spotted this book on the shelf, it was the title that grabbed me. Normally I'm a cover kind of girl. Titles aren't my thing. Usually. But this one was so damn true that I had to nod in agreement and skim a few pages. While I found it entertaining, it wasn't the sort of book I usually read so I put it back on the shelf and went about my search for books on writing--which was why I was at the bookstore in the first place.

A couple weeks later, still haunted by the amusing title, I made my way to the bookstore and sighed with relief when I found it was still there. I'm rather one tracked minded once I'm set on something and if the book hadn't been there, I would have had to drive to another bookstore until I'd found it. Ordering it, and then having to wait for it, just wasn't an option.

With my new purchase in hand,  I went home and cracked it open. And laughed. And laughed so hard that I had to leave the room with the book rather than attempt to explain to my husband what was so damned funny in front of my kids. FUPA anyone? Filled with all aspects of unappealing life from dealing with parents to sex. The vulgar observations were so up my alley that I brought this book with me everywhere. It fit right in my coat pocket. I even schemed my way out of the house for an extra half hour of quiet reading time by offering to drive to the pizza place, order, wait and then bring it home. I'm pretty sure the girl at the counter thought I was on something from the amount of snickering I was doing over a particularly amusing passage wherein real people are "renamed" to protect their identity.

I was sad when the book ended. I'd had so much fun laughing my way through that one that I had to get another. I went back to the bookstore and came home with four more books. One of which was Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. Also known as the second book I read this year. Not quite as funny as the first book of the year, but still amusing and much safer to leave sitting around the house.

Filled with short essays that are the perfect lunch-break size, this book covers everything from speech therapy as a kid to drug binges, artistic expression, jazz bands, leading an unmotivated life, claiming the perfect boyfriend in order to have a house in France and attempts at learning French.

As a writer, the last section of the book where he divulges his daydream characters is by far my favorite. Anyone who desires to best describe their hair as cravy is all right in my book. Curvy, wavy, yep, totally makes sense to me. I've seen that hair. Some great character tidbits in that section, yes indeed.

Laughter. Yep, I feel less stressed already. I wonder what the third book of the year has in store? 


Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Feeling the love

After last week's rousing critique round of pointy sticks jabbed mercilessly into my uncooperative short story, I'm feeling the warm fuzzies of being back in crit land again. It's been almost a year and the masochistic part of me has missed it. I just need to put the warm fuzzies away and continue to jab the short story until it agrees to convey what it was meant to.


The Liebster Blog Award originated in Germany. Liebster means dearest or beloved, and Liebe is love.

While we're talking love--yes, I know I'm early but not a big fan of Valentine's Day anyway--I've been doubly the recipient of the Liebster blog award. Lots of love going around lately. So I must thank, Fred and Chrystalla, both of whom are wonderfully entertaining and talented writers.

If I'm playing by the rules of this award, I'm to pass along the love to five blogs that I love. However, A) Three of the five blogs I intended to pass the award to have already been loved and another didn't want to play along. B) I don't like rules. Therefore, as I sit here surrounded by bloody crit sticks, I'm going to announce that I love you all. There. I said it. Don't expect to hear it again for another year.

Now you'll have to excuse me, I have pointy sticks to sharpen and then I'm off to return them to their owners.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday: A Broken Race 2

In this week's excerpt we meet One-fifty-two, one of the Simples. When I started this story, I never intended to have him become the foremost MC of the four, but with his emotional vulnerability and unique pov, he quickly became my favorite to write.

He’d had a name. A name of his own before he’d become One-fifty-two. He looked at the numbers stamped on his hand. They’d hurt when William had put them there with a needle and ink. But it was part of being a man, of growing up. He’d cried, but not too loud. No one had wiped away his tears.

Check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts here.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Another new old project

What a difference years makes when it comes writing. After blasting through edits on A Broken Race, I was up for conquering another project that had been languishing on my hard drive. I picked Sahmara's Sunset because it had been giving me the puppy eyes the longest.

 Sahmara's Sunset as the distinction of being my very first NaNo novel from 2006. It was the first novel I wrote in thirty days. It proved that I could actually write something that didn't take years to finish. In fact, it was the first novel (and still is to this day) that I wrote knowing what the end would be before I started.

 If only I'd known the middle. This is also the novel I discovered that leaving vast tracts of 'connect the dots later', is a very bad idea. I've since learned that if I'm going to do this, to at least leave an outline and notes in that section.

 Other things I didn't know back before I joined a critique group and did some educational reading that are now driving me insane:

- Utter lack of proper formatting. I've since become a little OCD about this and won't even write a rough draft without it.

- Large blocks of telling. Blah, blah, blah. I'm even dozing off. - Repeating myself. Sadly, that one's never gone away.

- Chapter placement. Yes, chapter length varies, but an 11k chapter? Really? And no, it's not the only one.

- Unnecessary scene breaks. Why didn't I just change a couple lines up a little and continue on? No idea.

- This one suffers from the same thing as my early drafts of Trust and the reason why there are so many discarded characters running about: Anvilitus. Not just repeating myself, but making similar events happen repeatedly to drive a point home.

 But I think it has promise. So I'll continue wringing out my mop and keep my pruning shears sharpened as I tackle this project. One thing is for sure though, it's going to take a lot longer than the last one.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday: A Broken Race

Today's excerpt is from the opening of a project from a few years ago that I'm finally getting cleaned up and ready for the big world. This is a conversation between Jack, one of the MCs and a man he's just captured during an attempted raid on his fortress. It neatly sums up what what the story is about.

Gunfire again filled the air.

The Wildman shook his head, tears running down his face. “Please, we just want a woman or two. You have so many.”

There weren’t many, barely enough to produce a steady population in fact, and far too many of them Simples. “Your women are not my concern. Your kind is full of the disease and fifth that got us into this mess to begin with.”

Check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts here

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Racing through revisions

Wow, so when I said I thought revising A Broken Race would go quickly, I was right! It's done. Granted, that's about all I've been doing for the past few days, but I've really enjoyed getting back into these characters and the story again. Having only spent 30 days with them before, and that, a couple years ago, I was surprised at how much depth of character I'd crammed into 50k. Darn it, I even made myself a little teary a few times.

Since I've been plowing through NaNo rough drafts, I thought I'd share a few faults I keep finding.

• I do not use contractions. There must be some subconscious 'it counts as two words instead of one that way' thing going on.

• I repeat myself. I rephrase what I've just written, sometimes right after saying it. I get stuck on a particular thought and go at it until I've achieved total anvil status. Sometimes I rephrase a thought several sentences later. It makes for some confusing clean up work. I had to go back again and again to keep those spots straight and it got confusing. Hold on, didn't I just say that?

• I change people's names. In this year's NaNo novel, Nervo became Neko. In A Broken Race, Miranda became Emelda, and Violet who was dead twenty years suddenly was reborn. Oops! I do make notes as I'm writing, but its the secondary characters that sometimes miss out on being included in my orderly efforts.

• Consistancy. There's twelve women. Yet, there are more like forty of them. It was morning, now its suddenly night. When did that character get clothes on? He's only wounded a little. No wait, he's almost dead!

For you fellow CC folks, A Broken Race will be going up for critique very soon. Please feel free to tear into it as I know you love to do.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Onward into a new old writing project

With Trust and it's sequel finally off my writing plate, I'm finally able to give some of my other novels in progress some attention. Yes, I know, that's a lot of finally, but that's how it feels.

After waiting patiently for its turn, fantasy short: Children of the Leaves got a turn in the revision chair. It's up for critique in early next month. I can't believe it's been almost a year since I had a chance to submit anything to CC. And that last thing? It was the first version of Children of the Leaves. It's like I've been stuck in my writing cave or something.

Next up is A Broken Race, a dysotopian novella that was NaNo 09. I haven't touched it since I hit my 50k. The wonderful thing about this project is that it's the first NaNo I actually wrote from beginning to end. There are no sudden blank spots of doom. I set out to write a novella and I did! There are some troubled areas, namely the ending, but for the most part, I'm thinking this shouldn't be a massive undertaking to get it from rough to first draft status. Famous last words right?

So what's this new story about?

In fortress ruled by impotent men and protected by testosterone-ridden powerhouses, One-fifty-two is one of many, a simple man, a worker. But he's not quite as simple as the others thought, and when he sneaks into the the vault where the precious few healthy women are kept, he discovers the nasty secret the breeding masters have been hiding. And it's been hiding in the garden where his food is grown, no less. Emboldened by his new knowledge, One-fifty-two takes back his childhood name, Joshua, and vows to set the women free.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

A single resolution, an edit, and a treat

A couple of my NaNo buddies latched on to this idea so I hopped on the boat (yes, a few days late). Pick one word for your 2012 New Year's resolution. It might sound a little odd, but my word is: Less.
Yes, I want to be less this year.
Less busy
Less distracted
Less obligated
Less stressed
I made some good steps toward this at the end of the year. Now I just have to keep going.

The first round of Untitled Sequel edits is finished! Wow, that went fast. Mostly it was cleaning up all the little notes I left to myself when charging through NaNoWriMo. Things like: go back and verify number of days between A and B. Or my favorite: Might want to give MC at least a sheet else he's fighting naked. Oops! Or maybe not... Ok, ok, I'll get him something to wear. Maybe.

There were also a couple typo-heavy sections that I obviously typed with my eyes closed while visualizing a scene. Untitled Sequel (nice title isn't it?) is now going onto the shelf. But, you can tune in to Flogging the Quill very soon and weigh in on the first page.

For the first time in seventeen days I was home alone all day. My beloved silence, how I've missed you! I treated myself to a viewing of the new Conan the Barbarian. As I wasn't expecting anything spectacular in the plot department, I found it entertaining. If you like good-looking, half-naked muscular men cutting each other up with swords, a little sex and generally watching Jason Mamoa do anything, you'd probably enjoy it too. Having watched the 1982 version a good dozen or so times over the years, I can easily say the effects, dialogue and general plot were much improved. There was a lot of blood, violence and the sound effects people obviously had a great time with wet, squishy blood sounds. So yes, pretty much what you'd expect from a Conan movie. I'd call it Spartacus lite. Speaking of which, I can't wait for Season 2!