Often the timing isn't right. Maybe I'm standing over a skillet of gravy, and won't step away because biscuits and lumps do not go well together. We're two miles from church, two minutes before the service, and I really can't sneak my laptop into the sanctuary. Or my daughter promises this is her last yodel, and I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.
It is not meant to be.
But occasionally, everything works in my favor. I happen to be in the same room as my computer, trying to increase output on my WIP, and all factors align. I've harnessed the necessary discipline, nothing more pressing snatches my time, and I find it.
The Zone.
My fingers, linked directly to my whirring brain, turn nimble. My creativity is sharp, and it buzzes somewhere within my head. My characters speak; I transcribe. The next scene unfolds, and the words are in reach, ready to be picked and plucked. I step away for a moment, tend to a need, and fall back into place without losing momentum.
The Zone is mine.
(I wish I could own it regularly.)
Tell me about your zone.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Writing's Appeal
He writes to create.
She to storytell.
It's the call of the craft,
it's a love of the skill.
But I'll tell you a secret,
if you'll lean in real close:
I've got one reason
and I like it the most.
Should I be honest?
I suppose I can say:
See, when writing,
being lazy's okay.
You just sit at your desk;
it's the easiest work.
No exercise/exertion.
No way to get hurt.
What? Yeah, you're right,
but side effects are small.
A crick in the neck
or Carpal Tunnel, is all.
I can think of worse things.
I'll give you examples.
Like, would you spot check
those dentures of Grampa's?
Work outside in the yard
on sore, bended knee,
wearing shorts (and underwear
prone to wedgie)?
Bathe the fridge.
Oh, cripes, what is that?
I'll just close the door,
hide the mold in the back.
I could dust the shelves,
ABC all the books.
Make sure all my rugs
have been vacuumed and shook.
But none of that's fun.
Don't you agree?
I'd much rather sit, lazy,
and be writerly.
*After reading some great poetry from Pat, and having just declared I'm no poet in a meme, the idea for this walloped me in the head. And so I sat on my bum (of course) to write it out and share with you. *silly grins*
She to storytell.
It's the call of the craft,
it's a love of the skill.
But I'll tell you a secret,
if you'll lean in real close:
I've got one reason
and I like it the most.
Should I be honest?
I suppose I can say:
See, when writing,
being lazy's okay.
You just sit at your desk;
it's the easiest work.
No exercise/exertion.
No way to get hurt.
What? Yeah, you're right,
but side effects are small.
A crick in the neck
or Carpal Tunnel, is all.
I can think of worse things.
I'll give you examples.
Like, would you spot check
those dentures of Grampa's?
Work outside in the yard
on sore, bended knee,
wearing shorts (and underwear
prone to wedgie)?
Bathe the fridge.
Oh, cripes, what is that?
I'll just close the door,
hide the mold in the back.
I could dust the shelves,
ABC all the books.
Make sure all my rugs
have been vacuumed and shook.
But none of that's fun.
Don't you agree?
I'd much rather sit, lazy,
and be writerly.
*After reading some great poetry from Pat, and having just declared I'm no poet in a meme, the idea for this walloped me in the head. And so I sat on my bum (of course) to write it out and share with you. *silly grins*
Saturday, July 11, 2009
A Letter: So Much More Than Words
When something has affected me, and the life around me, I stew. I analyze. I judge myself and my thinking. And then I want to write a letter.
But to a family member? A friend, to explain my feelings and make sure unspoken thoughts are clear? I hold back. Because aren't we generally expected to talk it out? Isn't it considered a lame attempt, a way of backing down, if we succumb to the written word, which, without inflection, with no tone or ambience in mood, can be misinpreted?
I say, "No more." I'm tired of holding out, of denying myself one of the barest means of communication.
Writing is what I'm good at. If I can't sit with the best of intentions and form an amazing letter, one that says what I need it to say, then I'm not worth the title of writer.
So I'm promising myself: If I have issue with someone, when I have something I need to get off my chest, and it's crucial to the life I'm living, I'll write a letter. I'll pour my heart into the document. I'll cuss and I'll be snarky; I'll delete and re-write. I'll edit and make it pretty. I'll be tactful, humble, so as not to cause strife. I'll be clear. I'll be wise and I'll form beauty with my words.
Because I'm a writer, and that's what I do.
But to a family member? A friend, to explain my feelings and make sure unspoken thoughts are clear? I hold back. Because aren't we generally expected to talk it out? Isn't it considered a lame attempt, a way of backing down, if we succumb to the written word, which, without inflection, with no tone or ambience in mood, can be misinpreted?
I say, "No more." I'm tired of holding out, of denying myself one of the barest means of communication.
Writing is what I'm good at. If I can't sit with the best of intentions and form an amazing letter, one that says what I need it to say, then I'm not worth the title of writer.
So I'm promising myself: If I have issue with someone, when I have something I need to get off my chest, and it's crucial to the life I'm living, I'll write a letter. I'll pour my heart into the document. I'll cuss and I'll be snarky; I'll delete and re-write. I'll edit and make it pretty. I'll be tactful, humble, so as not to cause strife. I'll be clear. I'll be wise and I'll form beauty with my words.
Because I'm a writer, and that's what I do.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Just For Fun: A Writer's Meme
What was the last thing you wrote?
Something for chapter 10 in my current novel-in-progress.
Was it any good?
Eh. The jury (of one - me) is out.
Write poetry?
Occasionally, but I have no passion for it.
Angsty poetry?
Well, I once was a teenage girl. What's that tell ya?
Favorite genre of writing?
Women's Fiction
Most fun character you ever wrote?
Thus far, a sassy salesclerk named Dom. But it was a minor appearance.
Most annoying character you ever wrote?
Charlotte, a self-absorbed, unpleasant and rude woman, whose character I built using similar people from my own life. Kind of a catharsis, really.
Best plot you ever wrote?
Now, now. I can't give anything specific away. I'll just say, it's in the works and its potential is grand. If I can pull it off.
Coolest plot twist you ever wrote?
An underlying and unexpected connection between two people.
How often do you get writer’s block?
Let's see... it's ten past the hour... right. about. now!
How do you fix it?
Sit down and beg discipline from myself... or do something different until the words start flowing again. Showers always help.
Write fan fiction?
Never once. And I'll be honest, I really don't understand the following. If you're that creative, come up with something entirely new.
Do you type or write by hand?
By choice, always type. If it's by hand, it's because no computer is near. And it's very choppy and messy and small.
Do you save everything you write?
Absolutely. Unless it's a grocery list, you know.
Do you ever go back to an idea long after you abandoned it?
Sure do. Especially if I abandoned it on purpose, to gain fresh perspective.
What’s your favorite thing you have ever written?
I'm partial to a couple short stories, and I really feel something for my current WIP. It may be the best thing I've written to date, whether it sees publication in the end or not.
What’s everyone else’s favorite thing you’ve written?
Maybe you could tell me?
Do you show people your work?
Less and less so. As I said last week, it's becoming important for me to keep things under wraps a bit.
Did you ever write a novel?
One complete, one left hanging... and a new one I haven't spoken about yet...
Have you ever written fantasy, sci-fi, or horror?
Golly, no! And I don't aim to. Not my fortes.
Ever written romance or teen angsty drama?
Yep. Except the teen angsty drama thing.
How many writing projects are you working on right now?
One big project, and it's not uncommon to have several little ones floating around.
Do you want to write for a living?
Pshh! Who doesn't?
Have you ever won an award for writing?
In middle school, for a summer poem about lemonade. *cheesy grin*
Ever written something in script or play format?
No, but wouldn't it be easy? I could tell, tell, tell. ;)
What character you've written most resembles yourself?
My current MC has a very similar nuance and voice. And I love her.
Where do you get the ideas for your characters?
Divine Intervention. And brainstorms.
Do you ever write based on dreams?
Some details come to me that way, for sure.
Do you favor happy endings, sad endings or cliff hangers?
I like things tied up and neat, but I'm learning they don't have to be happily ever after.
Have you ever written based on an artwork you’ve seen?
I've been prompted by photos before.
Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
Shoot, yes. Anal-retentive much?
Ever written anything entirely in chatspeak (How r u)?
Just on my phone. Shh...
Are people surprised and confused when they find out you write well?
I get the gamut of reactions.
Quote something you’ve written. The first thing to pop in your mind.
"Something changed my thinking. Made my thinking change." Brilliant, I know.
Whew! That was fun. How 'bout you?
Something for chapter 10 in my current novel-in-progress.
Was it any good?
Eh. The jury (of one - me) is out.
Write poetry?
Occasionally, but I have no passion for it.
Angsty poetry?
Well, I once was a teenage girl. What's that tell ya?
Favorite genre of writing?
Women's Fiction
Most fun character you ever wrote?
Thus far, a sassy salesclerk named Dom. But it was a minor appearance.
Most annoying character you ever wrote?
Charlotte, a self-absorbed, unpleasant and rude woman, whose character I built using similar people from my own life. Kind of a catharsis, really.
Best plot you ever wrote?
Now, now. I can't give anything specific away. I'll just say, it's in the works and its potential is grand. If I can pull it off.
Coolest plot twist you ever wrote?
An underlying and unexpected connection between two people.
How often do you get writer’s block?
Let's see... it's ten past the hour... right. about. now!
How do you fix it?
Sit down and beg discipline from myself... or do something different until the words start flowing again. Showers always help.
Write fan fiction?
Never once. And I'll be honest, I really don't understand the following. If you're that creative, come up with something entirely new.
Do you type or write by hand?
By choice, always type. If it's by hand, it's because no computer is near. And it's very choppy and messy and small.
Do you save everything you write?
Absolutely. Unless it's a grocery list, you know.
Do you ever go back to an idea long after you abandoned it?
Sure do. Especially if I abandoned it on purpose, to gain fresh perspective.
What’s your favorite thing you have ever written?
I'm partial to a couple short stories, and I really feel something for my current WIP. It may be the best thing I've written to date, whether it sees publication in the end or not.
What’s everyone else’s favorite thing you’ve written?
Maybe you could tell me?
Do you show people your work?
Less and less so. As I said last week, it's becoming important for me to keep things under wraps a bit.
Did you ever write a novel?
One complete, one left hanging... and a new one I haven't spoken about yet...
Have you ever written fantasy, sci-fi, or horror?
Golly, no! And I don't aim to. Not my fortes.
Ever written romance or teen angsty drama?
Yep. Except the teen angsty drama thing.
How many writing projects are you working on right now?
One big project, and it's not uncommon to have several little ones floating around.
Do you want to write for a living?
Pshh! Who doesn't?
Have you ever won an award for writing?
In middle school, for a summer poem about lemonade. *cheesy grin*
Ever written something in script or play format?
No, but wouldn't it be easy? I could tell, tell, tell. ;)
What character you've written most resembles yourself?
My current MC has a very similar nuance and voice. And I love her.
Where do you get the ideas for your characters?
Divine Intervention. And brainstorms.
Do you ever write based on dreams?
Some details come to me that way, for sure.
Do you favor happy endings, sad endings or cliff hangers?
I like things tied up and neat, but I'm learning they don't have to be happily ever after.
Have you ever written based on an artwork you’ve seen?
I've been prompted by photos before.
Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
Shoot, yes. Anal-retentive much?
Ever written anything entirely in chatspeak (How r u)?
Just on my phone. Shh...
Are people surprised and confused when they find out you write well?
I get the gamut of reactions.
Quote something you’ve written. The first thing to pop in your mind.
"Something changed my thinking. Made my thinking change." Brilliant, I know.
Whew! That was fun. How 'bout you?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Choosing Tense
She sits, second row on the left side of the chapel. The pew in front of her remains empty, and so as she weaves her fingers together, apart, together again, she has an unobstructed view of the open casket and Silas, his forehead and nose bumping up past the line of the box.
Present tense. You are in the moment, yourself a spectator.
Now let's shift gears for a moment...
She sat, second row on the left side of the chapel. The pew in front of her remained empty, and so as she wove her fingers together, apart, together again, she had an unobstructed view of the open casket and Silas, his forehead and nose bumping up past the line of the box.
Past tense. Already done and gone, relayed to you by a first-hand observer.
Same excerpt, two tenses. Which stands out to you more? As writers and readers, each of us has a preference.
When reading, does one form put you off? I'm in the middle of The Nanny Diaries, written in the present tense. As a proponent of past tense, particularly in longer works, I find it stops me short at times.
When writing, how do you choose the tense you'll use? Is it intrinsic for you, something you don't even consider? Or do you weigh the options against the work, the ultimate output and the characters who live the story?
Present tense. You are in the moment, yourself a spectator.
Now let's shift gears for a moment...
She sat, second row on the left side of the chapel. The pew in front of her remained empty, and so as she wove her fingers together, apart, together again, she had an unobstructed view of the open casket and Silas, his forehead and nose bumping up past the line of the box.
Past tense. Already done and gone, relayed to you by a first-hand observer.
Same excerpt, two tenses. Which stands out to you more? As writers and readers, each of us has a preference.
When reading, does one form put you off? I'm in the middle of The Nanny Diaries, written in the present tense. As a proponent of past tense, particularly in longer works, I find it stops me short at times.
When writing, how do you choose the tense you'll use? Is it intrinsic for you, something you don't even consider? Or do you weigh the options against the work, the ultimate output and the characters who live the story?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
A Weekend of Women
A lone Janna
three states (okay, just the corner of one)
food aplenty
and antiques.
Priceless.
A couple Saturdays ago I left town, bags loaded with reading material and edible goodies, mind set on time away and important visits.
I put almost a couple hundred miles behind me and met fellow writer and bloggy buddy, Melissa from Grosvenor Square. (And I kick myself for not asking her to pronounce that G-word for me. I stumble over it every time.) We had lunch at a quaint little hole-in-the-wall, where we talked shop and life. Melissa, a doll in her own right, was accompanied by her daughter, a sweet, talented little thing. We had a great time!
Afterward, I continued on to see my grandma. She's been in a care facility of sorts, since a car accident left her slow to move and confined by a neck brace. She's doing well, and our visit was pleasant. I admit, we've never been close, and the warm fuzzies and bonding I'd hoped for didn't come to pass. Still, our one-on-one time was important, and I'm glad I went.
One of the highlights of my trip was visiting antique stores along the way and back: Most of you know it's one of my favorite pasttimes. Plenty caught my eye, but I seemed in a bookish mood. I bought two old texts, one called the Essentials of English Composition, published in 1912, and the other Journalism. Its moss green cover caught my eye first, but then I was endeared by cursive handwriting that claims the inside cover. And its date, 1916. When I scanned the table of contents and read the following passage from within, I had to have it:
Women in Journalism
It seems to be a mooted question whether the newspaper world has anything much to offer them. According to the best opinion only those who feel that they have special talent for the work, and who are willing to deprive themselves of home and social life to an extent not required in any other business, except that of acting, should think of taking up journalism as a means of livelihood. Unlike teaching or almost any other calling, the labor of news getting and news editing is, from its exacting and severely practical nature, essentially a man's work...
Ohhhh, I could go on, but that's a decent taste. Isn't it a hoot? I had to bring it home.
All in all, a worthwhile weekend of women.
Have you had any special weekends of late?
three states (okay, just the corner of one)
food aplenty
and antiques.
Priceless.
A couple Saturdays ago I left town, bags loaded with reading material and edible goodies, mind set on time away and important visits.
I put almost a couple hundred miles behind me and met fellow writer and bloggy buddy, Melissa from Grosvenor Square. (And I kick myself for not asking her to pronounce that G-word for me. I stumble over it every time.) We had lunch at a quaint little hole-in-the-wall, where we talked shop and life. Melissa, a doll in her own right, was accompanied by her daughter, a sweet, talented little thing. We had a great time!
Afterward, I continued on to see my grandma. She's been in a care facility of sorts, since a car accident left her slow to move and confined by a neck brace. She's doing well, and our visit was pleasant. I admit, we've never been close, and the warm fuzzies and bonding I'd hoped for didn't come to pass. Still, our one-on-one time was important, and I'm glad I went.
One of the highlights of my trip was visiting antique stores along the way and back: Most of you know it's one of my favorite pasttimes. Plenty caught my eye, but I seemed in a bookish mood. I bought two old texts, one called the Essentials of English Composition, published in 1912, and the other Journalism. Its moss green cover caught my eye first, but then I was endeared by cursive handwriting that claims the inside cover. And its date, 1916. When I scanned the table of contents and read the following passage from within, I had to have it:
Women in Journalism
It seems to be a mooted question whether the newspaper world has anything much to offer them. According to the best opinion only those who feel that they have special talent for the work, and who are willing to deprive themselves of home and social life to an extent not required in any other business, except that of acting, should think of taking up journalism as a means of livelihood. Unlike teaching or almost any other calling, the labor of news getting and news editing is, from its exacting and severely practical nature, essentially a man's work...
Ohhhh, I could go on, but that's a decent taste. Isn't it a hoot? I had to bring it home.
All in all, a worthwhile weekend of women.
Have you had any special weekends of late?
Friday, July 3, 2009
Which Would You Rather?
Imagination is more important than knowledge...
- Albert Einstein
`
So, imagination? Or knowledge?
Monday, June 29, 2009
Hey Howdy and How Do You Do?
It's been awhile, hasn't it?
But I had to break away. It was a need to define my writing processes, and put to use what I discovered.
I learned some pretty pertinent stuff, like that I write better when I edit as I go - that is, take time to really make sure I'm saying what the story begs of me any given moment, instead of rushing through, just for the sake of getting it out no matter its quality. That works for some; I understand now, not me.
I realized it's best to keep my projects quiet. My momentum is steadier, and I hold up better to my own expectations and accountabilities than I do to those of others. That said, I've omitted the word count statuses in the sidebar, and plan to post only generically about my WIPs - at least during the creating and writing stages.
My output spikes when I write during morning hours, and if I change up my location every few weeks.
What I've always known is, my dependence on your support and encouragement is high. I couldn't write and dream if I didn't have all of you lifting me up and helping me along. And that won't change.
Have you ever taken the time to really discover who you are with your writing? What methods do you identify with?
But I had to break away. It was a need to define my writing processes, and put to use what I discovered.
I learned some pretty pertinent stuff, like that I write better when I edit as I go - that is, take time to really make sure I'm saying what the story begs of me any given moment, instead of rushing through, just for the sake of getting it out no matter its quality. That works for some; I understand now, not me.
I realized it's best to keep my projects quiet. My momentum is steadier, and I hold up better to my own expectations and accountabilities than I do to those of others. That said, I've omitted the word count statuses in the sidebar, and plan to post only generically about my WIPs - at least during the creating and writing stages.
My output spikes when I write during morning hours, and if I change up my location every few weeks.
What I've always known is, my dependence on your support and encouragement is high. I couldn't write and dream if I didn't have all of you lifting me up and helping me along. And that won't change.
Have you ever taken the time to really discover who you are with your writing? What methods do you identify with?
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Here's the Deal
On one hand, this lull has been great. I've enjoyed the break, the freedom from regular posts.
On the other, it's been pitiful, as I've dealt with a case of severe strep throat much of the time I've been away. And I've missed everyone!
But I've been doing a lot of thinking in the down time, and have come to the decision that I need a longer hiatus from Something She Wrote. It's important for me to pull myself away.
Right now, for me, it needs to be less about connecting, less about sharing my thoughts, and more about the craft. More about doing and working and honing. As much as I'll miss everyone, I have to disconnect and throw myself into my work. Try that whole solitary thing out.
For my long-time followers - this isn't the end. I'll be back, so don't give up on me! Please, don't give up on me.
For new followers and anyone just stopping by - I hope this won't turn you off. Feel free to look around, check my archives. I'm confident you'll find something worthwhile.
I wish everyone the best, and hope you understand my doing this. I don't know what kind of time frame to give you, but it won't be forever. I just have to get my writing on course. And right now, I have to draw it out of myself, by myself.
Love and blessings,
Janna
On the other, it's been pitiful, as I've dealt with a case of severe strep throat much of the time I've been away. And I've missed everyone!
But I've been doing a lot of thinking in the down time, and have come to the decision that I need a longer hiatus from Something She Wrote. It's important for me to pull myself away.
Right now, for me, it needs to be less about connecting, less about sharing my thoughts, and more about the craft. More about doing and working and honing. As much as I'll miss everyone, I have to disconnect and throw myself into my work. Try that whole solitary thing out.
For my long-time followers - this isn't the end. I'll be back, so don't give up on me! Please, don't give up on me.
For new followers and anyone just stopping by - I hope this won't turn you off. Feel free to look around, check my archives. I'm confident you'll find something worthwhile.
I wish everyone the best, and hope you understand my doing this. I don't know what kind of time frame to give you, but it won't be forever. I just have to get my writing on course. And right now, I have to draw it out of myself, by myself.
Love and blessings,
Janna
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Lovely Lull
lull (noun) : a temporary pause or decline in activity
...just for a few days.
I'll return soon.
Be well.
...just for a few days.
I'll return soon.
Be well.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Bestsellers... of All Time!
It seems like we're forever looking for something great to read, right?
This morning, when I flipped through my desk calendar, a notebook-sized spiral angled at writers with trivia and notes of encouragement (published by QPB), I stumbled across a list of The Bestselling Books of All Time! And I thought, why not share the titles? It would appear these are the somethings great.
*The following information is copied word-for-word from the calendar.*
The Bible holds the number-one spot, with somewhere between five and six billion copies sold. In fact, religious titles--the Koran, the Book of Mormon, the Book of Common Prayer--all have boffo sales figures. But they would skew the list. For that matter, so do Harry Potter novels. So regard this as a partial, yet utterly fascinating roster of the kind of sales figures authors dream of.
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, 1605 - 500 million copies
Clear away the sacred texts and this is the first secular book - and novel to boot! - with seriously impressive sales figures.
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, 1814 - 200 million copies
Who knew swashbuckling, a quest for vengeance and suddenly becoming really, really rich could have such broad appeal?
And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, 1939 - 115 million copies
You may also know this classic mystery novel by its alternate title, Ten Little Indians.
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, 1951 - 65 million copies
We debated whether to include this one, since it does apear so often on high school and college reading lists, but, a sale is a sale.
The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, 2003 - 64 million copies
One can only sigh heavily.
Heidi by Johanna Spyri, 1880 - 52 million copies
This one took us by surprise, too.
The following are all tied at 50 million copies
Ben-Hur by Lew Wallace, 1880
King Solomon's Mines by Henry Rider Haggard, 1885
The Curse of Capistrano (aka The Mask of Zorro) by Johnston McCulley, 1920
How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie, 1936
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, 1943
The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care by Dr. Benjamin Spock, 1946
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, 1988
***
So what do you think? Were you in the know? How many/which ones have you already read?
This morning, when I flipped through my desk calendar, a notebook-sized spiral angled at writers with trivia and notes of encouragement (published by QPB), I stumbled across a list of The Bestselling Books of All Time! And I thought, why not share the titles? It would appear these are the somethings great.
*The following information is copied word-for-word from the calendar.*
The Bible holds the number-one spot, with somewhere between five and six billion copies sold. In fact, religious titles--the Koran, the Book of Mormon, the Book of Common Prayer--all have boffo sales figures. But they would skew the list. For that matter, so do Harry Potter novels. So regard this as a partial, yet utterly fascinating roster of the kind of sales figures authors dream of.
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, 1605 - 500 million copies
Clear away the sacred texts and this is the first secular book - and novel to boot! - with seriously impressive sales figures.
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, 1814 - 200 million copies
Who knew swashbuckling, a quest for vengeance and suddenly becoming really, really rich could have such broad appeal?
And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, 1939 - 115 million copies
You may also know this classic mystery novel by its alternate title, Ten Little Indians.
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, 1951 - 65 million copies
We debated whether to include this one, since it does apear so often on high school and college reading lists, but, a sale is a sale.
The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, 2003 - 64 million copies
One can only sigh heavily.
Heidi by Johanna Spyri, 1880 - 52 million copies
This one took us by surprise, too.
The following are all tied at 50 million copies
Ben-Hur by Lew Wallace, 1880
King Solomon's Mines by Henry Rider Haggard, 1885
The Curse of Capistrano (aka The Mask of Zorro) by Johnston McCulley, 1920
How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie, 1936
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, 1943
The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care by Dr. Benjamin Spock, 1946
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, 1988
***
So what do you think? Were you in the know? How many/which ones have you already read?
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thanks Are Due
Overdue, actually.
`
Barbara deserves recognition for the beautiful scarf she sent me weeks ago. Isn't it a great color? And it's pashmina - so soft! She holds drawings for these often, so visit her through the link for your chance to win... but also to enjoy her special and serene corner of blogland. Thank you, Barbara!
`
`I've been remiss in acknowledging some bloggy bling I've been given of late, too. Lynnette from Chatterbox Chit Chat gave me The Lemonade Stand award. (I know you've all seen it floating around, so I won't paste it here.) I so appreciate it! And I did see another award from someone recently - I thought it Lori? Argh, if I can't remember for sure (please correct me if I'm mistaken... ETA: Ack! It wasn't Lori. Was it someone else, or did I truly dream it?). Thank you! I was touched by your generous comments about SSW.
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I can't get by without also thanking both Jody* and KS, who recently shared links to my post It's My Path. I'm so thrilled you thought its content worthy of sharing - and I appreciate the faces who popped in for a peep because of it, too.
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I also want to say thanks to my constant supporters and welcome to my new followers! You all make my day, every day.
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Have a great weekend, and a safe and blessed Memorial Day!
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*(Jody recently signed with an agent! Send her some congrats, wouldja?)
Friday, May 22, 2009
[F]oto Friday
This is Lucy. She is our pet, our security system, our furry entertainment.
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Few things excite her more than taking off across the yard, running low and fast behind a bounding squirrel. Her dream? To catch one. And we snicker, roll our eyes. Because will it happen? Likely not. The chances are slim to none, really.
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A couple weeks ago, off she took, jumping the ditch and trying, trying. I snorted and said aloud, "Yeah, Luce. Keep at it," in that tone of voice that means, you're silly to keep trying.
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It was like a slap to the face, the realization that I'd just belittled her dream. What right did I have? She didn't care what the odds were. She was happy, chasing that squirrel.
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How would I feel if someone belittled my dream, my writing dream? Rolled their eyes and snickered behind my back, because the chances of success are slim to none, given the odds?
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So I straightened right up, added some conviction to my voice.
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"Keep at it, Luce. Chase those squirrels."
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
It's My Path
It's happening.
Friends and fellow writers are doing it. They're accepting offers of representation, working with agents, selling their books and seeing their titles in print, held in hand. It's an awesome thing to see, to be an infinitesimal part of.
With each friend's success, I feel that much closer to my own. And yet I also feel further and further away.
Do I have what it takes, I ask? Maybe I don't write well enough, maybe my words aren't going to grab the attention of who matters most, maybe I don't represent myself in the best way possible, maybe...
If only...
Often times I see a writer who's a step - or several - ahead and I think, why isn't that me? What am I doing wrong? I think, they're doing something I'm not. And I may fall into a pity pit for a bit, feeling morose and doubtful and envious.
But then I'm reminded: I'm me. I am on my own path. Not wrong, different.
Mine.
I have to step back, look at what's best for me without comparing my steps to others', and let my path unfold before me.
As I keep this in mind, I will step sure-footed, with confidence and faith.
Friends and fellow writers are doing it. They're accepting offers of representation, working with agents, selling their books and seeing their titles in print, held in hand. It's an awesome thing to see, to be an infinitesimal part of.
With each friend's success, I feel that much closer to my own. And yet I also feel further and further away.
Do I have what it takes, I ask? Maybe I don't write well enough, maybe my words aren't going to grab the attention of who matters most, maybe I don't represent myself in the best way possible, maybe...
If only...
Often times I see a writer who's a step - or several - ahead and I think, why isn't that me? What am I doing wrong? I think, they're doing something I'm not. And I may fall into a pity pit for a bit, feeling morose and doubtful and envious.
But then I'm reminded: I'm me. I am on my own path. Not wrong, different.
Mine.
I have to step back, look at what's best for me without comparing my steps to others', and let my path unfold before me.
As I keep this in mind, I will step sure-footed, with confidence and faith.
In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. Proverbs 16:9
Friday, May 15, 2009
[F]oto Friday
This small wooden sign, phrase etched in pretty cursive, is the newest addition to my writing space. I like its emphasis on the home, for that's true to my own life. But the story part I find relevant, too, and I think it's easy to figure why.
Is there a phrase you've placed somewhere in your house or office, tucked into your purse or wallet, because it spoke to you on some level?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Writing, As Compared To Volleyball
So I'd had a great post planned for today, about how last Saturday was warm and sunny with a breeze, perfect for the company picnic we hosted for my husband's work. And I was going to tell you about how, along with grilling and other fun, we played sand volleyball, barefoot with wide grins.
And then I was going to get all fancy-schmancy and compare volleyball to writing, making grandiose analogies, especially about how I took a hit to the face and spent near five minutes flat in the sand, and about how sometimes we get "knocked out" over our writing, when we're rejected or receive harsh criticism or self-doubt creeps in, but how if we get back up - like I did - we can go on to win the game - like my team did - or get published. And yada yada.
But it just wasn't coming together. Not in a smart, I've-really-thought-this-out sort of way.
So instead, tell me how you would compare an aspect of volleyball (or any sport, for that matter) to writing.
Your thoughts?
And then I was going to get all fancy-schmancy and compare volleyball to writing, making grandiose analogies, especially about how I took a hit to the face and spent near five minutes flat in the sand, and about how sometimes we get "knocked out" over our writing, when we're rejected or receive harsh criticism or self-doubt creeps in, but how if we get back up - like I did - we can go on to win the game - like my team did - or get published. And yada yada.
But it just wasn't coming together. Not in a smart, I've-really-thought-this-out sort of way.
So instead, tell me how you would compare an aspect of volleyball (or any sport, for that matter) to writing.
Your thoughts?
Monday, May 11, 2009
The Ring
Tonight I’m going on my first date in over two years. It’s also the first date I’ve had since my husband’s death.
The man is due to pick me up in twenty minutes, and I stand in front of the full-length mirror, assessing my reflection. One thing keeps catching my eye.
It’s a gaudy-looking thing, and I know it. Perched on my little finger, Barbie-pink and hard plastic, the ring doesn’t coordinate with my sleek, black dress. Others will see me at the fine restaurant and think me showy and presumptuous, wearing such a frou-frou piece of costume jewelry.
Still, I’ll be wearing it all evening, because it says so much more than the dress ever would on its own.
Ah, the dress. It’s black by no coincidence; I chose the color of mourning. This is a big step for me, the dress will say to this new someone. Let it be known I still grieve. And that John will always be with me.
And, what with its length just at my knee, sweet capped sleeves, modest v-neck, it says I’m to be taken seriously. I’m a respectable woman, with clear-cut expectations, responsible ideas.
But yet the ring says so much more.
Its hue pops out from the dark background the dress provides, speaking of brighter days, of the happiness I’ve managed since John was taken from me. It whispers that I have a sense of humor, and I know how to have fun. But, more than anything, it tells a man that Sosie is most important to me.
It was Sosie, my beautiful three-year-old with the jet-black hair just like her daddy’s, who put the ring—her princess ring—on my finger.
“Mommy, wear my wing tonight,” she’d said, sliding it over my pinkie knuckles. “You wook bootie-ful.”
And so how can I not wear it?
It will be a subtle reminder, throughout the whole evening, that my heart belongs to a little girl. She’s been my one and only for two years, and it’s not easy to let someone new in. Any man will have to accept it. He’ll have to accept Sosie and me, a package deal.
That’s what the ring says.
***
This is a piece of flash fiction (364 words) I wrote a few months ago. The spark of idea came to me and snowballed as I played Pretty Pretty Princess with my girls, when I caught glimpse of a similar plastic ring on my own finger.
The Ring made the first-round cuts at two online pubs, but eventually met rejection from both places. When I got notification from the second publication yesterday, I decided I'd just post it here. Why not share it with all of you, and whomever happens by? That's, in essence, a large reason I have this blog, and I think it's important to continually share examples of my works and style.
Anyway, an editor from the first pub said it read more like a vignette (which is what, now?) while another thought it more a character sketch. The second online magazine didn't give any reasons as to why they were "unable to use it." (Both places suggested I submit other pieces in the future.)
Do you have any constructive criticism to offer? What would you tell me if you were an editor?
The man is due to pick me up in twenty minutes, and I stand in front of the full-length mirror, assessing my reflection. One thing keeps catching my eye.
It’s a gaudy-looking thing, and I know it. Perched on my little finger, Barbie-pink and hard plastic, the ring doesn’t coordinate with my sleek, black dress. Others will see me at the fine restaurant and think me showy and presumptuous, wearing such a frou-frou piece of costume jewelry.
Still, I’ll be wearing it all evening, because it says so much more than the dress ever would on its own.
Ah, the dress. It’s black by no coincidence; I chose the color of mourning. This is a big step for me, the dress will say to this new someone. Let it be known I still grieve. And that John will always be with me.
And, what with its length just at my knee, sweet capped sleeves, modest v-neck, it says I’m to be taken seriously. I’m a respectable woman, with clear-cut expectations, responsible ideas.
But yet the ring says so much more.
Its hue pops out from the dark background the dress provides, speaking of brighter days, of the happiness I’ve managed since John was taken from me. It whispers that I have a sense of humor, and I know how to have fun. But, more than anything, it tells a man that Sosie is most important to me.
It was Sosie, my beautiful three-year-old with the jet-black hair just like her daddy’s, who put the ring—her princess ring—on my finger.
“Mommy, wear my wing tonight,” she’d said, sliding it over my pinkie knuckles. “You wook bootie-ful.”
And so how can I not wear it?
It will be a subtle reminder, throughout the whole evening, that my heart belongs to a little girl. She’s been my one and only for two years, and it’s not easy to let someone new in. Any man will have to accept it. He’ll have to accept Sosie and me, a package deal.
That’s what the ring says.
***
This is a piece of flash fiction (364 words) I wrote a few months ago. The spark of idea came to me and snowballed as I played Pretty Pretty Princess with my girls, when I caught glimpse of a similar plastic ring on my own finger.
The Ring made the first-round cuts at two online pubs, but eventually met rejection from both places. When I got notification from the second publication yesterday, I decided I'd just post it here. Why not share it with all of you, and whomever happens by? That's, in essence, a large reason I have this blog, and I think it's important to continually share examples of my works and style.
Anyway, an editor from the first pub said it read more like a vignette (which is what, now?) while another thought it more a character sketch. The second online magazine didn't give any reasons as to why they were "unable to use it." (Both places suggested I submit other pieces in the future.)
Do you have any constructive criticism to offer? What would you tell me if you were an editor?
Friday, May 8, 2009
[F]oto Friday
Good fiction is hard to find lately. At least, it has been for me, as I've torn apart my shelves for that next book to sink my teeth into.
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First, I tried this novel. Certain content did not sit well with me.
I'd had high hopes for the next one; the author is one I've enjoyed before, and the premise sounded exciting! Yeah...
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How's this for excitement? (Watch out, I drool.)
And then this one! This one seemed so original, with a main character I could potentially relate to.
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*sigh* At least I got some good daydreaming done.
But wait! What's this? Why, I believe it's Kathryn Magendie's new release, Tender Graces, in my mailbox, of all places!
Color me giddy!
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The death of her troubled mother and memories of her abused grandmother lure a woman back to the Appalachian hollow where she was born. Virginia Kate Carey, the daughter of a beautiful mountain wild-child and a slick, Shakespeare-quoting salesman, relives her turbulent childhood and the pain of her mother's betrayals. Haunted by ghosts and buried family secrets, Virginia Kate struggles to reconcile three generations of her family's lost innocence.
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Virginia Kate's story, so heartrending, snatched my attention up immediately (and still holds it hostage). And Kathryn's writing? Powerful. Each sentence, so fresh and full, lifts from the page to swirl around me, so I feel it.
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Virginia Kate's story, so heartrending, snatched my attention up immediately (and still holds it hostage). And Kathryn's writing? Powerful. Each sentence, so fresh and full, lifts from the page to swirl around me, so I feel it.
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Are you looking for good fiction?
`I recommend this book. Get you a copy.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Join Me
I sit, favorite coffee beside me, pondering the day ahead. Time to myself is stretched before me, and I anticipate the moments I'll steal, the stuff I'll do just for Janna.
Birds chatter in play, lifting my spirit in preparation, and a breeze blows the newly-dressed tree outside my window, giving me glimpse at the freedom I'll own.
But I won't scatter just yet, because I like this still and calm, this expectation. Will you join me? Feel it for yourself?
My desk calendar tells me today is Beverage Day. What beverage will you have, just because? What thoughts would you share if you could pull your chair to mine?
Birds chatter in play, lifting my spirit in preparation, and a breeze blows the newly-dressed tree outside my window, giving me glimpse at the freedom I'll own.
But I won't scatter just yet, because I like this still and calm, this expectation. Will you join me? Feel it for yourself?
My desk calendar tells me today is Beverage Day. What beverage will you have, just because? What thoughts would you share if you could pull your chair to mine?
Monday, May 4, 2009
These Hands Do So Much
The other day, when I laid with my youngest for a nap, I placed my hand atop her small one. As I thought about the difference in size, and in experiences, I realized how much could be attributed to these hands of mine.
With them, in just thirty years, I have held small treasures and caressed larger ones. They have curled around tools and implements, followed the pattern of a mother's hands and done the duties of a student, employee, volunteer. My hands have folded together in prayer, wiped tears--mine and others'--and held on for dear life. They've clapped in joy and in rhythm, waved as many goodbyes as hellos, and led me down the path toward my writing dream.
They are already a trophy, of sorts.
What have you done with your hands?
With them, in just thirty years, I have held small treasures and caressed larger ones. They have curled around tools and implements, followed the pattern of a mother's hands and done the duties of a student, employee, volunteer. My hands have folded together in prayer, wiped tears--mine and others'--and held on for dear life. They've clapped in joy and in rhythm, waved as many goodbyes as hellos, and led me down the path toward my writing dream.
They are already a trophy, of sorts.
What have you done with your hands?
Friday, May 1, 2009
[F]oto (er... video, that is) Friday
I'm sorry this is so dark! And please forgive me where I talked in circles; it was unscripted.
Kim Michele Richardson is a dear heart with a special spirit, all of which becomes clear as you read The Unbreakable Child.
To find out more about Kimmi or the book, visit her author's website or her blog.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
You Are What You Write
Meet today's guest, Danielle Thorne. She's author of the newly-released historical novel The Privateer, devoted wife, busy mom... and pirate?
I'll let you decide.
You Are What You Write
by Danielle Thorne
People look at me funny when they find out I write about pirates. When I start gushing about the British Navy or the Master and Commander series, they stare. Yes, out from behind the computer I’m a suburban housewife in a tee-shirt and Birkenstocks. I spend my free time zipping from Cub Scouts to Marching Band contests to swimming lessons. There are no exotic tattoos on my arms and I don’t keep a loud parrot under a sheet, but I am still a writer. I don’t just write what I know, more importantly, I write where I go. You know that place, the wormhole in your head that whisks you off to fantasyland the moment your fingers touch a keyboard?
It is a beautiful thing to be able to take someone on a trip with you--through time, across the horizon, or maybe into another universe. To be able to do this through the pages of a book is a release that no other person could understand unless he’s ever used the words “The End.” Whether it’s a painting, a scrapbook, a landscaped garden, or ten page short story, we are wired with what I believe is a sacred desire to create.
Isn’t it interesting to see interviews with the authors who have written your favorite books? You view them as a relative of this world that only you know in your heart. You wonder how much they are like their characters, what drives them to delve into this trait, or that experience. You wonder if their art is a reflection of who they are inside?
I’ve always believed that no matter how contrived a story is, throughout the stages of planning and plotting, we all release a piece of ourselves into our manuscripts. A confession, if you will, that in these pages are something we have always wanted to do, or have needed to reveal. So what if I did not really live two hundred years ago and never furled the sheets from a crosstree (sailor talk for taking in the sails from wayyyyy up high), in my secret place where I travel to for my own adventures, I certainly have done so and that qualifies me to write about it. The only essential ingredient to any story in my opinion is imagination.
In 1729, diamonds were discovered in Brazil.. The reign of piracy is over in the Caribbean, or so it’s believed. Despite the cover-up, Captain Julius Bertrand begins to hear whispers. The Spanish guardacostas are dumping log books, and a new French pirate is on the prowl. Distracted by an avaricious woman he could never love, and the beautiful Kate O’Connell who doesn’t need him, he tries to untangle the web of mysterious cargo someone in the New World wants kept secret. When Bertrand’s pirating past returns with the explosive force of a sweeping broadside, he finds he must sacrifice everything his respectable life has brought him, in order to save what matters most.
Such is the background for my novel, THE PRIVATEER. Where on earth did a Jane the Soccer Mom ever get such an idea? I’ve been there. I went, I saw, I conquered, and then I wrote about it. Was there any research? Months. Work? Uh, years. Did I leave a part of myself in the story? You bet I did.Pirates were rebels who stood up against the establishment. They did all that and survived a brutal life at sea. I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina. I never rebelled. It took me nineteen years to find the ocean. I could not take it with me, but I could not let it go. Every day when I climb out of bed, my feet hit the floor and I yearn for sand. There is a part of me that should have been a pirate. There is a hunger in me to live with the Caribbean surf banging at my door.
So look twice next time you meet an author. Think twice next time your creative juices start to flow. We are so much more than words, paper, and postage stamps. We are what we write, and that means something.
Thank you so much, Danielle! It was great to have you here today. Your thoughts are inspiring! It's finding that truth inside ourselves--pirate or not!--that makes our fiction so believable.
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If you'd like to learn more about Danielle, The Privateer or her other new release, Turtle Soup, visit her website or blog.
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We wish you much success, Danielle! And come back to see us anytime.
Monday, April 27, 2009
8 Is Enough
Who remembers that show from the 80s? I loved it! Watched it with my mom and sister every week, if I remember correctly.
Anyway, today's post is intended to ease into the week. Capri K did this meme a few days ago, and I thought it'd be fun to play along. Join in, if you like!
And come back Wednesday, when I'll have a guest post from new author Danielle Thorne. Until then...
8 Things I Look Forward To
1) spending time with some girlfriends
2) seeing my sister
3) getting the (currently gutted) main bathroom's remodel completed
4) the end of school, so my girls and I can sleep in and spend our days playing
5) (not to rush it, but...) fall, when both my girls will be in school, and I'll have some allotted time to myself
6) garage sale season!
7) the chance to query Bliss Lake again
8) meeting more writing buddies
8 Things I Did Yesterday
1) napped
2) rested
3) took it easy
4) missed church
5) drank chai
6) caught up on e-mails
7) worked on Bliss Lake
8) ate shrimp
8 Things I Wish I Could Do
1) find a cure for pain (any and all)
2) shop
3) hire a maid
4) go to a writers' conference this summer
5) see 17 Again
6) spend a few hours at Barnes & Noble
7) dig my toes in a sandy beach
8) be at ease around people, all the time
8 Shows I Watch
1. Castle, my new favoritest show ever! I make time to watch this.
These I love, but can rarely catch...
2) American Idol
3) The Office
4) Law & Order SVU
5) Law & Order CI
6) CSI: Vegas
7) Family Guy (best references to pop culture EVER)
8) SNL
Wow! That was harder than I thought it would be. See if you can do it!
And thanks for your thoughts and well-wishes yesterday. I appreciate your concerns, and I do feel much better.
Anyway, today's post is intended to ease into the week. Capri K did this meme a few days ago, and I thought it'd be fun to play along. Join in, if you like!
And come back Wednesday, when I'll have a guest post from new author Danielle Thorne. Until then...
8 Things I Look Forward To
1) spending time with some girlfriends
2) seeing my sister
3) getting the (currently gutted) main bathroom's remodel completed
4) the end of school, so my girls and I can sleep in and spend our days playing
5) (not to rush it, but...) fall, when both my girls will be in school, and I'll have some allotted time to myself
6) garage sale season!
7) the chance to query Bliss Lake again
8) meeting more writing buddies
8 Things I Did Yesterday
1) napped
2) rested
3) took it easy
4) missed church
5) drank chai
6) caught up on e-mails
7) worked on Bliss Lake
8) ate shrimp
8 Things I Wish I Could Do
1) find a cure for pain (any and all)
2) shop
3) hire a maid
4) go to a writers' conference this summer
5) see 17 Again
6) spend a few hours at Barnes & Noble
7) dig my toes in a sandy beach
8) be at ease around people, all the time
8 Shows I Watch
1. Castle, my new favoritest show ever! I make time to watch this.
These I love, but can rarely catch...
2) American Idol
3) The Office
4) Law & Order SVU
5) Law & Order CI
6) CSI: Vegas
7) Family Guy (best references to pop culture EVER)
8) SNL
Wow! That was harder than I thought it would be. See if you can do it!
And thanks for your thoughts and well-wishes yesterday. I appreciate your concerns, and I do feel much better.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
When The Pain Comes
It's like I'm scattered to the wind. Blowing this way and that, nary a grounding thought or still moment to hold as mine.
Or maybe that's just what I want; to rise up away from the misery, climb on the wind and separate, so the pain can't pin me down.
Or maybe that's just what I want; to rise up away from the misery, climb on the wind and separate, so the pain can't pin me down.
Friday, April 24, 2009
[F]oto Friday
Have you ever seen a photo of yourself and been reminded of someone, a family member, you don't see upon looking in the mirror? It's not so blatant a resemblance, just something subtle captured by the still shot?
That's what's happened with my new profile picture, here on this blog. When I see it? The curve of my chin, the set of my jaw, reminds me of my uncle Rob's face. And that's a bittersweet thing.
We lost him to the waters of the Missouri River in Nebraska, almost nine years ago. It was a fishing accident; one begun with strong currents, ended with fatal undertows.
He was twenty-seven when he died. Three years younger than I am now. There's a lot he didn't get to see, experience, do.
But that picture, where I sit summonsing his memory, reminds me of all he did do, of all he was. Makes me think of what he could have been. And my heart sags just a little bit.
Amazing what a mere [F]oto can do.
That's what's happened with my new profile picture, here on this blog. When I see it? The curve of my chin, the set of my jaw, reminds me of my uncle Rob's face. And that's a bittersweet thing.
We lost him to the waters of the Missouri River in Nebraska, almost nine years ago. It was a fishing accident; one begun with strong currents, ended with fatal undertows.
He was twenty-seven when he died. Three years younger than I am now. There's a lot he didn't get to see, experience, do.
But that picture, where I sit summonsing his memory, reminds me of all he did do, of all he was. Makes me think of what he could have been. And my heart sags just a little bit.
Amazing what a mere [F]oto can do.
RIP Robert Elledge
1972-2000
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