thinking ahead: nanowrimo 2009

JUST 96 DAYS UNTIL WE START WRITING OUR NEW NOVELS! Odds bodkins!

Does this swing our verge, my friends? Why yes, yes, I believe it does.

WHO'S WITH ME???

excerpt from an email

He asked: What is the most important thing in your life? What drives you, or what is your motivation?

I replied:

The most important thing for me is probably communion. And by that I don't mean what goes on in church buildings on Sundays. ;o) I'm talking about communion: sharing my thoughts with someone--the other person sharing their thoughts with me--in a way that is transparent, vulnerable, honest, gritty. It's inextricably interwoven with genuine emotion, empathy, understanding. The kind of meeting-of-the-minds-and-hearts that happens after you've been talking for hours and hours and it's four o'clock in the morning, you're so tired you're delirious and yet each of your senses is sharpened, hyper-aware, perfectly attuned to the other person's wavelength. Four in the morning is the ideal time, but communion can happen anytime, anyplace, as long as both people are laying things out The Way They Really Are. You get to the point where fewer and fewer words are necessary...until just looking each other in the eye suffices for communicating a universe, a googolplex of thoughts.

This can happen with other humans. This can also happen with God.

As for my motivation.....I guess it's to become the kind of human capable of that level of communion--sustained.

If I could reach this goal....everything else would fall into place.

this one's for all you book-lovers out there...

Hi friends. Read this: literary agent Nathan Bransford on Kindle, Orwell, and Amazon's Trying To Take Over The World.

For my writer friends: Nathan Bransford is a Most Extraordinary Blogger Who Will Teach You All You Need To Know About Agents, Query Letters, The Publishing Industry, And Why You Should Hate The Lakers.

Also, I got to meet him in April, and he's nice.


Also, I still need to trim my fingernails.

status update

My neck still hurts. It felt better yesterday (after Refinnej worked on it on Tuesday--thank you again!!!), but the betterness has not progressed into today. Alas, alack. I feel discouraged. And irritated with vertebrae. Why do I need those, again?

Also, I need to trim my fingernails. They're interfering with typing.

That's all.


Oh, and I have neat writer friends. :o)

amen, amen and amen again.

Air and light and time and space

by Charles Bukowski

“-you know, I’ve either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
For the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and the time to
create.”

no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

hey programmers, two technical questions for ya

Edit: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a toolbar. I repeat, we have a toolbar. Thanks, Aaron!!!
14:44pm

1. How do I get the Blogger toolbar back? (Toolbar has search function and "next blog" option, etc.) I used to have it, but when I changed blog templates, it disappeared. If you'll tell me where to find the toolbar code and where it goes in the template code, I can probably fix it myself. If I can't, I'll ask. :o)

2. What would need to be done to set up a reply-to-comments function on Blogger?


Thanks! I give you all virtual chocolate.

to whom it may concern...

...I did manage to dissolve whatever was blocking my writing. Yesterday morning, I moved my laptop from my desk in the office to the kitchen table...

...and BAM!

More than 3000 words in two days. On a brand-spanking-new story*. Yes, it's the rough first draft...but it's not drivel.

This swings my verge, Gentle Readers. It really, really does.



*Working title: "Deren's Story." Now, ain't that all sortsa hunky-dory creative? ;oD

for my fellow fantasy enthusiasts**

What do you expect from outlaws in your fantasy reads?

What's your favorite thing about outlaws?

What's your least favorite thing?

What do you consider cliche* about them?

Maybe you consider outlaws-in-fantasy to be cliche altogether, I don't know. ;o)

Whatever, just let me know what you think!



*Please forgive the lack of correctly accented 'e's.

**Addendum: Although I am interested in feedback from all of you, my faithful readers ;o) and though I do appreciate my fellow ladies' opinions, I am particularly interested in hearing about these things from the guys' perspective. So, gentlemen, speak up, please! I need to hear how you view this aspect of the fantasy world! :o)

two items of ridiculousness

1. Cellulite.
There is absolutely no logical reason why my thighs are not as muscular as my calves. Not that my calves are entirely free of fat, but they're doing a lot better than what's above them. There is no logical reason for this. Cellulite is a cosmic joke on women. Gah.

2. Journalists who don't know what subject-verb agreement are.
Error intentional. 'Nuff said.


P.S. I have had a severe case of writer's block over the last ten days. This does not swing my verge in the least. I'm going to do something about it today. When I figure out what that something is, I'll let you know. ;o)

thinking more cultural thoughts....and others

Last week, we got to hang out with various old friends who were visiting Oklahoma for various reasons. Two of these friends were Randy and Bri, who work with the church in Dresden and were here on furlough. I think being around them is probably part of the reason I've had Germany specifics on the brain for the last few days.

Anyway, one of the specifics this morning is Joe, our Iraqi friend from the Turkish place in downtown Chemnitz. And what I'm thinking is that I'm sad we never got to have him and his wife over for dinner. I would have loved to find out more about his culture than what he was able to communicate to us over the busy lunch counter at Kervansaray. I wish we could have learned more about each other's cultures and discovered more common ground. I wish I could ask him how he feels about Americans now and whether or not he still likes us. I wonder if he has been able to go home to visit Kirkuk. I wonder if his daughter knows her grandmother yet. I wonder if his mother and sister are still alive.

How do you brighten the corner where you are--in the midst of a war? Forget all the political claptrap, forget the justifications and reasons and excuses on both sides. The definition of war is humans killing each other. The definition of war is humans snuffing out lights instead of making them shine brighter. The definition of war is humans destroying opportunities for sympathy, compassion, and mutual understanding.

If the goal of human existence is to cross the bridge which spans the breach between humanity and God--and I believe this is the goal--then those who have seen the bridge need to be able to tell others about it.
We cannot tell others about the bridge unless we first learn a way to communicate with them.
Humans cannot communicate with one another unless they find common reference points.
This means sharing thoughts, feelings, experiences, cultures, personal background, collective history, language, habits, traditions, taboos, hopes, fears, dreams.
We all have a responsibility to share these things with each other. Not because we're American or German or Iraqi or French or British or Finnish or Chinese or Venezuelan or whatever. But because we're all human.

I wish Ed and I could have exchanged all of that with Joe. He gave us a small taste of his culture--both literally and figuratively! ;o) --and we gave him a small taste of ours. It wasn't nearly enough. But in our brief conversations across the lunch counter at Kervansaray, Joe brightened his corner of my world. I hope I succeeded in doing the same for him.

As always, I don't have the answers to any of these dilemmas. I don't even have a personal answer to the question of whether war is fundamentally right or wrong. I'm just thinking out loud and letting the world overhear.

i've probably shared this before...

...but if I did, I'm gonna do it again. Take that, you Evil Imps of Repetitive Redundancy!

Living in the modern age,
death for virtue is the wage.
So it seems in darker hours.
Evil wins, kindness cowers.

Ruled by violence and vice
We all stand upon thin ice.
Are we brave or are we mice,
here upon such thin, thin ice?

Dare we linger, dare we skate?
Dare we laugh or celebrate,
knowing we may strain the ice?
Preserve the ice at any price?

--Dean Koontz
in "Dragon Tears"

mafias gnawn thru...

...or: fun with anagrams.

Today, I wrote a poem for which I required anagrams, so I spent several hours playing around with this online anagram generator. From said generator, I derived a grey jot--I mean, great joy. I thought you all might receive a similar jaunty of moo amount of joy, so here are a few of the anagrams I came across today. Feel free to interpret at will!

thyroidal woof
holy woo, adrift
wily foot hoard
Hen with eatables!
I linger on mops, yet.
some wise fatheads
fatheads meowing
antisera de-fog
magenta shrews
tame hogness
tea theism (I think I am becoming a believer.)
A seventh moo howled!
I linger on my pesto.
Seesaw thongs mow. (Oh dear.)

Thus ends the fungi wash mantra. Tune in next week for another rousing round of A Ham Fig Nun Warts!

Sincerely Yours,

None Any Cuter ;o)

roll call

If you read this, leave a comment. I wanna know you're there.

I'm going to go paint my toenails now.

book comments 17 and a reading adventure story

"The Right Hand of Evil" by John Saul
--general reaction: Meh.
--story of a family in which Satanic possession is passed down through the generations like an heirloom
--lots of long, confusing dream sequence stuff
--Teenagers who talk like 40-year-olds are not believable.
--I never really connected with any of the characters. I spent most of the book wishing the mom would grow a backbone and wondering if none of these people ever watched "The Exorcist."
--some very good imagery, though, especially the cathedral scenes
--Saul fans might like it, but I don't recommend.

"The Good Guy" by Dean Koontz
--story of mistaken identity leading to a high-thrills cat-and-mouse hunt between a serial killer and two innocent bystanders
--Can you already tell I thoroughly enjoyed this one? ;o)
--vivid, compelling characters, especially the main character --> loved him!
--a serial killer so charming it hurts --> excellent
--Koontz is the master of clever dialogue.
--an UPDA* read
--highly recommend

"Maia" by Richard Adams
--fantasy epic spanning 1223 pages
--story of a girl sold into slavery as a prostitute, does oodles of heroic stuff, and lives happily ever after
--This is one of the most complex stories I have ever read.
--way too much gratuitous sex in this one --> kinda freaks me out that a 62-year-old man wrote this
--too much description --> I appreciate that Adams made both the culture and the landscape into characters, but honestly, I skimmed at least a fourth of the book, thinking, "Just get on with the plot already!"
--In my opinion, the main character falls in love with the wrong person, and her obsession with him is not believable.
--incredibly vivid characters, imagery that puts detailed pictures into the reader's mind
--You might like this if you have thick skin, a strong stomach, and the stamina for sticking with a book that's 2.5 inches long (paperback).

"Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
--title says it all: The Bennett girls are zombie-killers, and so is Mr. Darcy.
--no complaints about this one, I loved and laughed my way through every moment of this read
--definitely UPDA*
--I love the irreverence of making a horror spoof out of a classic. SO fun.
--highly recommend

"Flight of the Raven" and "A Tapestry of Lions" by Jennifer Roberson
--books 7 and 8, respectively, of Roberson's "Shapechanger" series

I have a history with these books: For years, I have owned books 1-6 and 8 of the series. For years, I have read only books 1-6, because I refused to read 8 without reading 7. However, 7 has been out of print for for*ever* and I couldn't find a copy. Then, Roberson came out with omnibus editions of the series: four huge books containing all eight. Well, naturally I wasn't going to buy those simply in order to read one story, when I already owned seven of the individual novels!

Are you following me so far? ;o)

A couple of weeks ago, I visited a used bookstore with Celia. Out of curiosity and without intending to purchase anything, I was browsing through the fantasy section, when there! right before my eyes! there is a copy of book 7!!! Of course, I couldn't leave it there, and of course I bought it, and of course I started reading it immediately, and of course I fell in love with the story from the beginning, and of course I was enjoying it with every shred of my being, when...

...I got to page 116--and the next page was 85.

Guh?

I checked again. Pages 1-116. Then pages 85-116 again, followed by pages 149-372.

Yeah, that's right. The pages in my copy of "Flight of the Raven" number 1-116, 85-116, and 149-372. This copy, WHICH I HAVE BEEN WAITING TEN YEARS TO GET MY HANDS ON, is missing the chunk of story spanning pages 117-148.

Which means my brain is still missing thirty-one pages of the "Shapechanger" series. So close...and yet, so far.

*sigh*

Dismay and chagrin do not quite cover it.

But moving right along. "Flight of the Raven" is still an amazing UPDA* novel, with a main character who just breaks your heart. And after I finished that one, I finally got to read "A Tapestry of Lions"--also quite UPDA and also with a main character a reader can fall in love with, not to mention one of the best, most spectacular endings I have ever read in a fantasy series.

Aside from the minor irritation of 31 missing pages, I am well satisfied. And I will read the series again...

...and continue the search for a complete, individual copy of book 7. Never give up, never surrender! ;o)


2009 Book Count To-Date: 27.



*UPDA = UnPutDownAble

"writing time" --hahahahahahaha!

If you are a writer,

or if you are in any sort of relationship with a writer,

I encourage you to read this article.

Among other things, it outs us writers for the narcissistic, airheaded time-wasters we really are.

And I love it.

J.R. Lennon, the author of said article, gives a run-down of how he typically spends his writing time. I thought some of you might be interested in seeing how I typically spend mine:


8:00-8:30 Get up. Lately, this has taken place 1-2 hours later than noted here, but who's counting.

8:30-9:00 Check online stuff. Messages, email, Facebook, Bloglines, what-hast-thou. Sometimes, this takes 45 minutes, but who's counting.

9:00-10:15ish Prepare and eat breakfast while reading something not on the computer.

10:30ish Sit down at computer to start writing.

11:00 Force self to stop editing the results of previous day's writing. Start writing for real.

11:03 Go to bathroom. Get cleaned up for the day.

11:30 Pet cat. Get something to drink. Wonder why that line of dialogue reads janky.

11:31-11:36 Really get down to writing.

11:37 Check Facebook.

11:38-12:00 Reply to comments. Look up something on Wikipedia. Read and ponder what Angie wants to know in her status update. Possibly post reply.

12:01-12:26 Typing, leaning back in chair, backspacing, typing some more, turning around to fix back of chair, typing some more, reading aloud, deleting everything written today.

12:27 Wander into kitchen to check fridge for anything. Anything at all. Ponder whether or not Character X should just die and get out of the way.

12:30 Return to office with drink and stand there, staring at computer screen. Computer screen stares malevolently back.

12:31 Coo over cat and re-write scene in head.

12:35-12:55 Re-type scene with improvements, taking previous day's writing into account.

12:56-1:05 Find favorite funny scene and read aloud, giggling.

1:06-1:30 Check online stuff.

1:31-2:30 Prepare and eat lunch while reading something not on computer. Go to bathroom.

2:31-2:40 Check Facebook. Reply to comments. Ruminate on the benefits of moving on to a different scene and leaving current one alone until the Apocalypse.

2:41-3:00 Re-read everything written today. Write one line of dialogue and delete it. Copy and paste dialogue from Chapter 11 into Chapter 6.

3:01-3:45 Fix glaring plot hole in Chapter 6.

3:46-4:10 Check Facebook. Resist temptation to scrap everything written today.

4:11-4:30 Speed-type. Pass "Go," collect 200 metaphorical dollars.

4:30-6:00 Housework, optional cooking, errands, bills, other such.

6:01 Return to office

6:02-6:21 Speed-write amazing plot twist that popped into existence and hope the sudden mania is sated before Ed walks in the door.


Voy-oh-lay. The truth comes out. Take it from me, folks, ya gotta see it to believe it.

Have I mentioned that writing really swings my verge? Oh yeah. ;oD

the one where i pass the point of no return

I am desperate.
I am tired.
I am hungry.

And I am not talking about my physical condition.

The last few years have wrought a great many changes in my spirit. The last 14 months in particular have stripped my soul of a great many impediments that had been mucking up my vision for a long, long time. Over the last few days, I've had several heart-wrenching, intimate conversations that have led me to *want* to say the things I am about to say.

I won't say that "I can see clearly now." ;o)
But I will say that I have reached a point of clarity enabling me to say, "I don't know."

I don't know who or what God really is.
I don't know exactly how he goes about saving humans from being eternally separated from him.
I don't know what the afterlife is going to be like.
I don't know why good things happen.
I don't know why bad things happen.
I don't know any human who can set a satisfactory standard of "good" or "bad."
I don't know what the nature of the universe is.
Humans are primarily spiritual beings, but I don't know exactly what that means.
I don't know a great many things.

I can speculate about all these things. My speculations might even be tinged with hints of truth. But they remain speculations because, frankly my dear, my human brain is too puny to fathom the spiritual reality behind it all.


Here's what I do know. These things, I am sure of without a doubt:

God is.
God created humans, and he loves us.
Humans are primarily spiritual beings.
God hears each of us when we speak to him.
Jesus of Nazareth had a more personal, intimate, vulnerable, honest, transforming relationship with God than any other being that has ever existed.
Jesus was a safe place for people to be.
Jesus wanted/wants his followers to be safe places for each other and for every person they come into contact with.
If you look at Jesus, you will gain an idea of what God is like.
Religion means nothing. Relationships mean everything.
I want to become as safe a place for others as I can.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. ;o)
That's my statement of faith.
That's my creed.

i do dumb things sometimes

This time, I tried to light a match. Which, under ordinary circumstances, would not be a dumb thing to do. But I had just smeared lotion all over my hands, making my fingers too slick to get a good grasp on the match. So, instead of doing the smart thing and wiping the lotion off, I...

...tore the match out of the matchbook with my teeth,
clamped the head of the match between the front and back flaps of the matchbook,
and pulled really hard.

It did not occur to me that this would result in my holding a burning match in my teeth, with the flame about half an inch from my face.

I was startled enough to let go of the match, which obeyed the law of gravity by dropping to the floor. Some other natural law--having to do with combustion and chemistry, I suppose--also went into effect, keeping the match burning as it fell. Fortunately, I regained my presence of mind quickly enough to stamp out the flame before it could catch the carpet on fire.

So, dear children, the moral of the story is: obvious.

There's now a little stinging spot on my lip--not a burn from the flame itself, but from the spark as the match lit.

*sigh*

in case you were wondering...

...I love being the person who handles the words. You need someone to take point in the challenge of traversing the jungles of syntax, vocabulary, and literary flair? I'll step up, and with my tools at the ready: bamboo knife for slashing through ambiguous verbosity--or a scimitar for beheading every Inner Editor that dares step onto the path too soon--or delicate clippers for trimming. Whatever's needed for getting from Writing Base Camp to Noveling Summit, I'll shoulder the pack and take the lead with a warcry of, "Onward! Hail Tawanda, Queen of the Amazons!"

Yup, I'm yer huckleberry. ;oD

people ask me where i get my ideas...

...and for me it works like this, and Sting says it better than I can:

"...The germ of the thing, and you work backwards from that. The procedure is very conscious, and very thought out but the actual lines that appear are really unconscious. I've got the germs of a few songs when I was half asleep. Just waking up...immediately have to rush to that piece of paper and write it down. I've read a lot about it. I've read a book called "The Act of Creation" by Arthur Koestler in which he scientifically analyses the moment of creative thought, where, according to him, the brain has different compartments and everything is well ordered, but in kind of semiconscious states those compartments sort of dissolve and ideas that should be in one place kind of seep into another and then you get a creative spark and something happens. And I would go along with that. I think that in a dreamlike state, you get ideas, but the actual hard work is a conscious thing. Once you get that idea you then, with a lot of discipline, piece it together."

--Sting
Hot Press, 8/80
__________________________________

Most of my stories have started as dreams.

seven characteristics of a loving person

I don't know where this list originated, but Rob shared it in our group discussion last night:

Seven Characteristics of a Loving Person

kind

patient

forgiving

humble

courteous

generous

honest


I have my own thoughts about these, but I'm curious to hear yours.
Do you agree with this list?
Would you add to it?
Subtract from it?
What is the value in defining a "loving person" in this way?
*Is* there value in such defining?
What is the value in striving to be a loving person?
Do you feel that you should try to be this kind of person? Why or why not?
If you are trying to be this sort of person, how would you evaluate your...hmm...success?
If you don't feel the need to be this sort of person, what goal have you set yourself instead? How would you evaluate your "success" in reaching your goal?

The floor is yours. :o)