can you blame me? i've got 60 pages of material due at work next week, and though i've got a lot done, i don't feel anywhere close to being done. i'm dying to work on the end of personal demons, and i just fucking found out that one my favorite authors in the genre that i write in is naming her next book PERSONAL DEMON, for god's sake. i'm also thinking a lot about the editing process, and where/how i'm going to tighten my writing and my story. i'm also thinking a lot about ghostkeeper, which will be my second books series. i'm also keeping up the exercise/eating right thing. i'm also managing to pay my bills on time, cook spectacular dinners, maintain my MSN-based chats, read two novels, hire a personal trainer, get the lenses in my glasses replaced, watch chris's team play softball, and sleep between 7-8 hours a night. poor chris is being ignored and deprived.
how in the hell did i get so busy? i don't like being busy. i am not a busy-type person. i am more a couch-potato type person who gets off on reading lots of books, preferably while watching TV and listening to music, yes, at the same time. i am one of those people who can literally sit in the same position without so much as a fidget for HOURS. so how did i get here, to this place where time to be a vegetable has been sucked up by the vacuum of work, social, and personal improvement projects? i am not this motivated! really, i'm not! maybe i've been possessed. yeah, that must be it...
sorry for the blog-lite post. it was a necessity, i'm afraid. i'll try for better next time, but the reality is that i prolly won't be able to do a thinky-thinky thing until after june 8. deadline, baby, yeah!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
RIP miss snark -- death of a blog
about five years ago (oh, my god, i am getting so old), my friend jenny had a political blog. back then, blogs were popular among the techno-savvy only. blogger was not yet around to provide those of us with the computer skills of pre-historic humans an opportunity to share our lives via the internet. hers was the only blog i read, and when she stopped posting, i missed it, but i always knew (because we speak on a near daily basis) that her blog would be back some day. hope remained alive. i stopped reading blogs then because, well, hers was the only one i read.
fast-forward five years. thanks to jason's suggestion that i start keeping a blog myself, and the blogs of friends including jason and margarita, and the massive depth and breadth of the blogging community as a whole, i am a blog addict. i check my regularly read blogs almost as often as i check my email. they have become as much a part of my day as brushing my teeth or deciding whether or not i want to watch a horrible season one episode of star trek: tng on spike tv. and several days ago, one of them died.
miss snark, the very BEST blogging voice out there on writing and publishing, retired. she said she'd answered all the questions she could, and she announced that she would no longer be making new posts, though thankfully, she will maintain her website so that we can partake of her famous 'snarkives.' after i confirmed that the date was not, in fact, april first and the announcement was not, in fact, a joke, i was just struck by this incredible wave of sadness, much more profound than any i've ever felt over the death of a celebrity, or even a distant relative that i only knew from the way they pinched my fat cheeks at bi-annual family get-togethers. miss snark was gone. i wasn't ever going to get to 'talk' to her again, 'hear' her witty voice, or 'witness' her amazing knowledge and seemingly endless patience for naive and inexperienced and generally stupid writers like me (which isn't really the case since she's leaving us her archives, but that was the overly-dramatic thought i had in the moments after reading about her retirement). i was so, so, so sad.
and then i was so, so, so surprised because i've never stopped to contemplate how much my daily blogs mean to me. the regulars -- those bloggers who are committed to posting at least three times per week -- are a source of stability, of constancy. they are reliable, and that is frankly unique. miss snark was great, not just because she is brilliant, but for a whole host of other, deeper reasons: she cared enough about her readers to read and reply to their emails, to put on contests for them so they could improve their hooks or queries, to post important information about what was going on in the world of publishing. and she did so with humor and grace and not a little snarkiness, like a beloved grandparent (in case miss snark somehow ever stumbles upon this post, i should note here that i have no idea how old miss snark is, so the grandparent reference has nothing to do with supposed age) lovingly teaching their grandchild some skill that modern sensibilities have overlooked and undervalued. bloggers like miss snark are the reason that some people believe, in contrast to technophobes who preach against the impersonal 'unreality' of the internet, that the relationships developed in the online world are real and important. with the death of miss snark's blog, i realized just how real and important they are to me.
so here's a shout out to all my regulars. you know who you are. thanks for stayin' alive.
fast-forward five years. thanks to jason's suggestion that i start keeping a blog myself, and the blogs of friends including jason and margarita, and the massive depth and breadth of the blogging community as a whole, i am a blog addict. i check my regularly read blogs almost as often as i check my email. they have become as much a part of my day as brushing my teeth or deciding whether or not i want to watch a horrible season one episode of star trek: tng on spike tv. and several days ago, one of them died.
miss snark, the very BEST blogging voice out there on writing and publishing, retired. she said she'd answered all the questions she could, and she announced that she would no longer be making new posts, though thankfully, she will maintain her website so that we can partake of her famous 'snarkives.' after i confirmed that the date was not, in fact, april first and the announcement was not, in fact, a joke, i was just struck by this incredible wave of sadness, much more profound than any i've ever felt over the death of a celebrity, or even a distant relative that i only knew from the way they pinched my fat cheeks at bi-annual family get-togethers. miss snark was gone. i wasn't ever going to get to 'talk' to her again, 'hear' her witty voice, or 'witness' her amazing knowledge and seemingly endless patience for naive and inexperienced and generally stupid writers like me (which isn't really the case since she's leaving us her archives, but that was the overly-dramatic thought i had in the moments after reading about her retirement). i was so, so, so sad.
and then i was so, so, so surprised because i've never stopped to contemplate how much my daily blogs mean to me. the regulars -- those bloggers who are committed to posting at least three times per week -- are a source of stability, of constancy. they are reliable, and that is frankly unique. miss snark was great, not just because she is brilliant, but for a whole host of other, deeper reasons: she cared enough about her readers to read and reply to their emails, to put on contests for them so they could improve their hooks or queries, to post important information about what was going on in the world of publishing. and she did so with humor and grace and not a little snarkiness, like a beloved grandparent (in case miss snark somehow ever stumbles upon this post, i should note here that i have no idea how old miss snark is, so the grandparent reference has nothing to do with supposed age) lovingly teaching their grandchild some skill that modern sensibilities have overlooked and undervalued. bloggers like miss snark are the reason that some people believe, in contrast to technophobes who preach against the impersonal 'unreality' of the internet, that the relationships developed in the online world are real and important. with the death of miss snark's blog, i realized just how real and important they are to me.
so here's a shout out to all my regulars. you know who you are. thanks for stayin' alive.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
this post is...
more filler, in a likely futile attempt to make sure that i post at least once each week on the blog so as not to lose my loyal readership. i know, today is wednesday, technically 9 days after my last post, but i figure as long as i do one today and one sometime next week, i am keeping with my pledge.
on one hand, it's a real bitch to start writing when you don't know what you're going to write about, but on the other hand, it's freeing. though i've written my book without an outline, i've always known the major plot points i want to hit on before i sit down to write the next chapter. there's a lot of constraint now in the way that i write personal demons. i think about how much i use the word 'that', how often i speak in the passive voice, how often i modify 'said' with a much-maligned adverb (i.e. she said sadly, angrily, throatily, wryly, etc. etc.). i think about how a character is going to be read. my characters aren't nearly dramatic enough sometimes. for the most part, they are intelligent, emotionally sound, reasonable people. at times this does not make for interesting interplay, so i have to try and create conflict between people who, like me, can certainly participate in a conflict successfully if they are thrown into one, but don't particularly relish instigating one because they are bullheaded, immature, or asshole-y. so, yeah, it's kind of different to sit down to blog, and not have any clue where i'm going with it or what i'm going to say. i'm glad i made this pledge to myself, because i think it will help my writing overall, and it will help me keep in touch with you, dear reader.
on a related topic, i was forced to pick up a copy of bill gates's latest money-making, fascist program -- otherwise known as microsoft office. maybe i wasn't forced, so much as coerced. i need to have a registered copy for my job, since some of my work is legal-like, and my employer's employers would no doubt look down upon a researcher who plies her trade on bootlegged software. i was at first quite miffed to see that microsoft outlook is not included in this year's student/teacher bundle. it was replaced by something called 'one-note.' i scoffed to myself, "what is this one-note?" and purchased it anyway because i need the word, excel and power point programs. just for shits and giggles, i opened the one-note program, and to my surprise, it was an over-organized virgo's wet dream. i've had it for weeks now, and still haven't figured out all the fabulous functions. (oh, god, i can't believe i'm plugging for microsoft! ew! someone stop me!) one-note is made up of, get ready for it.... notebooks! and within each notebook, there are pages. so for example, i have a personal notebook with pages for shopping lists, account numbers (password protected, of course, and none related to money, only things like chapters and amazon usernames), books and music to pick up, and recipes; i have a work notebook with pages for billing hours, project ideas, and notes; and i have a writing notebook with pages for personal demons revisions and notes, gagan's second book (as yet untitled, obviously), and ghostkeeper, a new idea rattling around in my head that i might write between personal demons and gagan's second book. the Very Best Function of one-note so far that comes in verra handy for work is that when you cut and paste text or pictures from a web page, one-note automatically records the website from whence it came! this is so fabulous! no more writing a quote in my reports and asking myself, "now where did you retrieve this from, and on what date?" it also does some desktop wiki stuff, i think, that i haven't played with yet. the tool bars are fancy pants, and have every imaginable tag or highlight, again, some of which i haven't tried out. all i know is one-note is a veritable playground for the person who'd rather organize their information than get down to business. who, me?
on one hand, it's a real bitch to start writing when you don't know what you're going to write about, but on the other hand, it's freeing. though i've written my book without an outline, i've always known the major plot points i want to hit on before i sit down to write the next chapter. there's a lot of constraint now in the way that i write personal demons. i think about how much i use the word 'that', how often i speak in the passive voice, how often i modify 'said' with a much-maligned adverb (i.e. she said sadly, angrily, throatily, wryly, etc. etc.). i think about how a character is going to be read. my characters aren't nearly dramatic enough sometimes. for the most part, they are intelligent, emotionally sound, reasonable people. at times this does not make for interesting interplay, so i have to try and create conflict between people who, like me, can certainly participate in a conflict successfully if they are thrown into one, but don't particularly relish instigating one because they are bullheaded, immature, or asshole-y. so, yeah, it's kind of different to sit down to blog, and not have any clue where i'm going with it or what i'm going to say. i'm glad i made this pledge to myself, because i think it will help my writing overall, and it will help me keep in touch with you, dear reader.
on a related topic, i was forced to pick up a copy of bill gates's latest money-making, fascist program -- otherwise known as microsoft office. maybe i wasn't forced, so much as coerced. i need to have a registered copy for my job, since some of my work is legal-like, and my employer's employers would no doubt look down upon a researcher who plies her trade on bootlegged software. i was at first quite miffed to see that microsoft outlook is not included in this year's student/teacher bundle. it was replaced by something called 'one-note.' i scoffed to myself, "what is this one-note?" and purchased it anyway because i need the word, excel and power point programs. just for shits and giggles, i opened the one-note program, and to my surprise, it was an over-organized virgo's wet dream. i've had it for weeks now, and still haven't figured out all the fabulous functions. (oh, god, i can't believe i'm plugging for microsoft! ew! someone stop me!) one-note is made up of, get ready for it.... notebooks! and within each notebook, there are pages. so for example, i have a personal notebook with pages for shopping lists, account numbers (password protected, of course, and none related to money, only things like chapters and amazon usernames), books and music to pick up, and recipes; i have a work notebook with pages for billing hours, project ideas, and notes; and i have a writing notebook with pages for personal demons revisions and notes, gagan's second book (as yet untitled, obviously), and ghostkeeper, a new idea rattling around in my head that i might write between personal demons and gagan's second book. the Very Best Function of one-note so far that comes in verra handy for work is that when you cut and paste text or pictures from a web page, one-note automatically records the website from whence it came! this is so fabulous! no more writing a quote in my reports and asking myself, "now where did you retrieve this from, and on what date?" it also does some desktop wiki stuff, i think, that i haven't played with yet. the tool bars are fancy pants, and have every imaginable tag or highlight, again, some of which i haven't tried out. all i know is one-note is a veritable playground for the person who'd rather organize their information than get down to business. who, me?
Monday, May 07, 2007
filler
i don't have anything in mind to write about now, i just feel like writing. i think it has something to do with work. i've been doing a lot of report writing today, and will be doing a lot of writing (not the research, that's done) in upcoming weeks, and i think with me, once i let my writing genie out of its bottle, it ain't gonna go back in willingly. i'm going to have to stuff the writing genie, fighting, down that narrow neck, and plug the cork. there is little doubt in my mind that i will be lying in bed tonight writing in my head. (sometimes i wonder why i don't just get OUT of bed and write the shit down already, just so i can sleep, but there's a war going on between my creative brain and my lazy i-like-my-comfy-sheets-and-my-cuddly-man brain and so far, lazy ILMCSAMYCM is winning. i have 500 thread count sheets.)
i confess that i haven't been reading as much news lately, so i've got no funny or quirky or horrible material to use as a muse. the weather here is lovely. it's finally starting to warm up, and everything is a verdant, vibrant green. the smell of fresh plant life in the air is just about intoxicating. the bad news? i can't hide under my winter coat and heavy jeans anymore. sigh. shorts season is upon us again. how white are my legs? blinding white. they reflect light like the purest black absorbs it. we got a new barbeque grill, and have been utilizing it to great effect (warning to all you vegetarians out there: graphic material about the consumption of animal flesh forthcoming). we christened it with new york steaks, and since that first usage have had flame-kissed chicken fajitas, barbeque pork chops, and hamburgers. i've purchased some beautiful pork loins that i plan to marinate, grill and serve with warm tortillas and homemade salsa (read: pork tenderloin tacos, one of the yummiest meat dishes EVER). i got my first sunburn at baseball on saturday, and it was overcast that day AND i wore sunscreen. guess i'd better buy a hat. one of those old lady wide-brimmed ones. how incredibly summer-y all this is. talk to me in a month when i'm so fucking hot i can't sleep and i'm bitching about how much i miss central air conditioning.
so, what else? the book. i've been learning lessons while writing personal demons, and that's a good thing. yet, the fact that i've learned these lessons during the process scares me into thinking that personal demons was largely a waste of time. yes, i think it has been a success as a learning tool, but i also think it might be a failure as a Good Book. as jean would no doubt point out, i am not finished with it yet, and it won't be until i do a real read through of the whole thing that i can say whether or not it is a book i'd like to purchase and read. i guess that should be a true test of how "good" it is -- did i like reading it? anyway, the point of this is not to crap on personal demons, but to say that i'm looking forward to starting the next one, a different series with different characters and a different cosmology. i'm even considering writing it in third-person omniscient, which i've never experimented with before. all the short stories and books (total -- 3 book starts, and 2/3 of 1 whole, heh) i've ever written have been in first-person. i plan to write this one according to the eight rules of writing fiction by kurt vonnegut, which are, unlike most rules, very helpful, and i think a succinct approximation of what, apart from an interesting story, makes for a great book. holy comma splices, batman! don't get me wrong -- i'm going to finish personal demons, and i'm going to do it the best i can, to make it the best book that i can given what tools i've provided for myself so far, to do the best i can for the characters i've created that i really, truly do like and respect. but i am looking toward the horizon, toward something that gives me an opportunity to stretch again, this time with the flexibility and grace i developed doing clumsy, fumbling moves in personal demons.
i think that's it. the genie has been squished into its bottle. i'm out.
i confess that i haven't been reading as much news lately, so i've got no funny or quirky or horrible material to use as a muse. the weather here is lovely. it's finally starting to warm up, and everything is a verdant, vibrant green. the smell of fresh plant life in the air is just about intoxicating. the bad news? i can't hide under my winter coat and heavy jeans anymore. sigh. shorts season is upon us again. how white are my legs? blinding white. they reflect light like the purest black absorbs it. we got a new barbeque grill, and have been utilizing it to great effect (warning to all you vegetarians out there: graphic material about the consumption of animal flesh forthcoming). we christened it with new york steaks, and since that first usage have had flame-kissed chicken fajitas, barbeque pork chops, and hamburgers. i've purchased some beautiful pork loins that i plan to marinate, grill and serve with warm tortillas and homemade salsa (read: pork tenderloin tacos, one of the yummiest meat dishes EVER). i got my first sunburn at baseball on saturday, and it was overcast that day AND i wore sunscreen. guess i'd better buy a hat. one of those old lady wide-brimmed ones. how incredibly summer-y all this is. talk to me in a month when i'm so fucking hot i can't sleep and i'm bitching about how much i miss central air conditioning.
so, what else? the book. i've been learning lessons while writing personal demons, and that's a good thing. yet, the fact that i've learned these lessons during the process scares me into thinking that personal demons was largely a waste of time. yes, i think it has been a success as a learning tool, but i also think it might be a failure as a Good Book. as jean would no doubt point out, i am not finished with it yet, and it won't be until i do a real read through of the whole thing that i can say whether or not it is a book i'd like to purchase and read. i guess that should be a true test of how "good" it is -- did i like reading it? anyway, the point of this is not to crap on personal demons, but to say that i'm looking forward to starting the next one, a different series with different characters and a different cosmology. i'm even considering writing it in third-person omniscient, which i've never experimented with before. all the short stories and books (total -- 3 book starts, and 2/3 of 1 whole, heh) i've ever written have been in first-person. i plan to write this one according to the eight rules of writing fiction by kurt vonnegut, which are, unlike most rules, very helpful, and i think a succinct approximation of what, apart from an interesting story, makes for a great book. holy comma splices, batman! don't get me wrong -- i'm going to finish personal demons, and i'm going to do it the best i can, to make it the best book that i can given what tools i've provided for myself so far, to do the best i can for the characters i've created that i really, truly do like and respect. but i am looking toward the horizon, toward something that gives me an opportunity to stretch again, this time with the flexibility and grace i developed doing clumsy, fumbling moves in personal demons.
i think that's it. the genie has been squished into its bottle. i'm out.
Friday, April 27, 2007
i waited all this time for THAT?
fair warning, dear reader, that will be your question when you finish reading this post which consists of a heaping helping of bitch with a side of aged whine (with a floral bouquet).
a person shouldn't post on their blog when they are feeling depressed, by the way.
am having, predictably (god, i hate how boring i am), and yet again, book publishing angst. sure, i'm not done yet, am only maybe 2/3 of the way done, but i am thinking about the quality of my writing a lot which leads to the question of getting an agent, and getting published, and finally, getting paid. i am not a deep person. i don't have deep writing. i write in a genre that is hot, hot, hot right now, but might be not, not, not hot by the time i finish. i'm not writing in the genre because it's hot, but because i love it. whether or not i love it does not matter to the publishing industry. sometimes, love just ain't enough.
so the question is -- how do i motivate myself to write through these doubts? i am a goal-oriented person. don't laugh. i really am. i need to have predictable outcomes, need to know that if i input a, i will get output b. and with this whole writing thing, it's driving absolutely fucking crazy that i don't know what the outcome is going to be -- i mean i know i will have a 300 page book manuscript on my hard drive, and that's something important... but the other stuff is important too. the recognition that what you have done is worth someone else's time. the fact that it's out of my control past a certain point makes me feel, to paraphrase frodo, like butter scraped over too much bread. or, alternatively, like my head is going to explode.
a person shouldn't post on their blog when they are feeling depressed, by the way.
am having, predictably (god, i hate how boring i am), and yet again, book publishing angst. sure, i'm not done yet, am only maybe 2/3 of the way done, but i am thinking about the quality of my writing a lot which leads to the question of getting an agent, and getting published, and finally, getting paid. i am not a deep person. i don't have deep writing. i write in a genre that is hot, hot, hot right now, but might be not, not, not hot by the time i finish. i'm not writing in the genre because it's hot, but because i love it. whether or not i love it does not matter to the publishing industry. sometimes, love just ain't enough.
so the question is -- how do i motivate myself to write through these doubts? i am a goal-oriented person. don't laugh. i really am. i need to have predictable outcomes, need to know that if i input a, i will get output b. and with this whole writing thing, it's driving absolutely fucking crazy that i don't know what the outcome is going to be -- i mean i know i will have a 300 page book manuscript on my hard drive, and that's something important... but the other stuff is important too. the recognition that what you have done is worth someone else's time. the fact that it's out of my control past a certain point makes me feel, to paraphrase frodo, like butter scraped over too much bread. or, alternatively, like my head is going to explode.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
self-pampering and well-being
most of you who know me now would likely be very surprised to learn that i used to be a foofy-girl. as a teenager, i was one of those girls who never had a bad manicure, whose toenails were either fire engine red, pearly pink, plum purple or flashy fuschia, who spent all of her extra spending money on hair care products, lip glosses, body treatments and polishes of various sorts. probably because i don't have nice boobs or a shapely body or a hot booty, i focused all my attention on maintaining a blemish free, smooth, buffed, almost perfect integumentary system. during that period in my life, leg and armpit hairs were never allowed to reach more than 24 hours maturity, manicures and pedicures were paint-chip, callous, dry skin and cuticle free, and the epidermis was soaked, exfoliated and lotioned with great ceremony and frequency.
sometime between being a care-free teen and a serious college student, i stopped painting my fingernails and wearing mascara and lip gloss every single day. sometime between being a serious college student and a not-so-serious master's student, i stopped soaking and exfoliating. sometime between being a not-so-serious master's student and a very poor immigrant working as a volunteer to keep the resume current, i stopped buying nice hair care products and face washes. somewhere between being a very poor immigrant and a low paid non-profit administrator, i stopped having my hair trimmed regularly and buffing the callouses off my feet (i NEVER wear shoes inside, and i wear shoes outside only in deference to the fear of having a hookworm burrow through the soles of my feet and find its way to my intestines, hence the persistent development of callouses).
now that i am a part-time research analyst and novelist with more free time and a bit more money on my hands, i am beginning to rediscover the sense of well-being that such self-pampering engendered. i am eating healthfully. i am exercising regularly (albiet resentfully). on thursday, i soaked, exfoliated, and lotioned my feet, and then painted my toenails a fabulous color (OPI's chica-go-get-a-manicure, if you're interested). my feet look and feel excellent. ;) i bought some nice shampoo to combat the effects of the bad highlight job that damaged the ends of my hair, and the curls are starting to bounce back. this morning, i shaved, exfoliated with the body shop's coconut scrub and lotioned with body shop coconut body butter. i smell good, my skin is soft as a baby's ass, and i feel awesome.
i feel so good in fact that i'm asking myself why i ever stopped my self-pampering routine. of course, part of reason is money, or a lack thereof for a long period in my life. but i realize now it's not about the type of 'product' you buy. it's about taking the time to care for yourself, to get in touch with what's going on with your body. it's almost a kind of meditation. you have to parce out a segment of time devoted just to your physical self. i don't have any problem giving that time to 'intellectual' or 'social' persuits -- i always make sure to spend time reading or writing, catching up on the news, catching up on my favorite TV shows, spending quality time with chris because these things are important to me. until recently, i've never made that kind of time to take care of my physical or material self -- i'll put it off, or not think about it all. i lived in my head so much that i forgot that my body needs just as much attention as my mind. today, i remembered.
sometime between being a care-free teen and a serious college student, i stopped painting my fingernails and wearing mascara and lip gloss every single day. sometime between being a serious college student and a not-so-serious master's student, i stopped soaking and exfoliating. sometime between being a not-so-serious master's student and a very poor immigrant working as a volunteer to keep the resume current, i stopped buying nice hair care products and face washes. somewhere between being a very poor immigrant and a low paid non-profit administrator, i stopped having my hair trimmed regularly and buffing the callouses off my feet (i NEVER wear shoes inside, and i wear shoes outside only in deference to the fear of having a hookworm burrow through the soles of my feet and find its way to my intestines, hence the persistent development of callouses).
now that i am a part-time research analyst and novelist with more free time and a bit more money on my hands, i am beginning to rediscover the sense of well-being that such self-pampering engendered. i am eating healthfully. i am exercising regularly (albiet resentfully). on thursday, i soaked, exfoliated, and lotioned my feet, and then painted my toenails a fabulous color (OPI's chica-go-get-a-manicure, if you're interested). my feet look and feel excellent. ;) i bought some nice shampoo to combat the effects of the bad highlight job that damaged the ends of my hair, and the curls are starting to bounce back. this morning, i shaved, exfoliated with the body shop's coconut scrub and lotioned with body shop coconut body butter. i smell good, my skin is soft as a baby's ass, and i feel awesome.
i feel so good in fact that i'm asking myself why i ever stopped my self-pampering routine. of course, part of reason is money, or a lack thereof for a long period in my life. but i realize now it's not about the type of 'product' you buy. it's about taking the time to care for yourself, to get in touch with what's going on with your body. it's almost a kind of meditation. you have to parce out a segment of time devoted just to your physical self. i don't have any problem giving that time to 'intellectual' or 'social' persuits -- i always make sure to spend time reading or writing, catching up on the news, catching up on my favorite TV shows, spending quality time with chris because these things are important to me. until recently, i've never made that kind of time to take care of my physical or material self -- i'll put it off, or not think about it all. i lived in my head so much that i forgot that my body needs just as much attention as my mind. today, i remembered.
Monday, March 12, 2007
frakkety frakking frak
as most of you know, i am a battlestar galactica whore. i gobble up BSG episodes like i've been known to gobble up dairy queen ice cream cake. as a result of my near total immersion in the BSG world of skin-jobs, toasters, the CAG and tyllium fuel, i have picked up a very useful new word: frak.
frak is how the brilliant writers of BSG manage to get past the FCC and let the main characters curse like the soldiers they are, and i have shamelessly incorporated it into my vocabulary. i walk around the grocery store wondering where they moved the frakking shake'n'bake, why that frakking lady at the meat counter cut in front of me in line, and whether or not i have few enough items to go in the frakking express lane. i've been known to utter, "holy frak, that's expensive!" while picking out curry paste.
the very very best thing about frak is that i can walk around cursing loudly as i am prone to do in the most mundane circumstances and feel not one iota of guilt! i am not cussing in public! my mother used to chastise me when i let loose with a string of swear words that would make little old ladies and suburban housewives look like they'd swallowed something nasty. i wasn't trying to offend, it's just that going to the grocery store is very stressful for me, and i am a firm believer in letting your stress out through a non-physical pressure valve: in my case, cussing. i'm not trying to be obscene. i'm just trying to keep from going postal. it really does make me feel better. with the help of frak, the little old ladies and suburban housewives still give me looks of disgust, but now they are primarily made up of confusion and "what a weirdo" rather than "how uncouth!"
frak is how the brilliant writers of BSG manage to get past the FCC and let the main characters curse like the soldiers they are, and i have shamelessly incorporated it into my vocabulary. i walk around the grocery store wondering where they moved the frakking shake'n'bake, why that frakking lady at the meat counter cut in front of me in line, and whether or not i have few enough items to go in the frakking express lane. i've been known to utter, "holy frak, that's expensive!" while picking out curry paste.
the very very best thing about frak is that i can walk around cursing loudly as i am prone to do in the most mundane circumstances and feel not one iota of guilt! i am not cussing in public! my mother used to chastise me when i let loose with a string of swear words that would make little old ladies and suburban housewives look like they'd swallowed something nasty. i wasn't trying to offend, it's just that going to the grocery store is very stressful for me, and i am a firm believer in letting your stress out through a non-physical pressure valve: in my case, cussing. i'm not trying to be obscene. i'm just trying to keep from going postal. it really does make me feel better. with the help of frak, the little old ladies and suburban housewives still give me looks of disgust, but now they are primarily made up of confusion and "what a weirdo" rather than "how uncouth!"
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
to all my fan(s?)
today, while chatting with margarita, i was very politely berated (it wasn't really a beration, it was more of an encouragement, but she called it that, so i must respect her agency in naming her words) because i don't post on my blog enough. she is completely right. totally and completely. it's not as though i don't have time. it's not as though i don't have shit to talk about -- i must, for all the time i spend chatting with you all on various chat programs. and then there's my own blog habit. my list of bookmarked blogs is now about as long as my very large flat panel computer monitor and i check them all at least once a day. so i am READING blogs. i'm just not WRITING my blog. (by the way, i'd be totally pissed if any of my blog peeps that i regularly read didn't post for as long as i go between posts. and yes, that's a threat AND a promise.)
now, on to our soon-to-be-regularly scheduled posting...
so i just re-read the entire harry potter series. fucking fabulous. i mean, jk rowling is a genius. i appreciate this even more now that i've been writing my own novel. she is able to weave together plot elements like magic (mwhaha), and when she does the big writing no-no -- including a scene that doesn't advance the plot or reveal something about the characters -- it is always so much fun to read that you don't care if it advances the plot or not, you could read her writing about opening a can of alphagetti.
now, i've been finished with HP and friends for a couple of weeks, so in bookless desperation, i cracked open one of chris's nelson demille books, called charm school. i like him and his stuff, generally. in fact, some of his books are downright fantastic -- see the lion's game, cathedral, talbot odyssey. this one, though... not so much. for one thing, he is writing in third person, and when the character thinks something to himself, it is put in quotation marks!!! i know it's a small thing, but it's driving me nuts, cause i keep thinking.... is someone else in the room that i missed? secondly, there are these incredibly long descriptive scenes. i know, it's the pot calling the kettle black cause i've been known to enoy writing the odd descriptive scene myself, but these are like.... about antique shops in moscow and shit. makes me wonder if he's cutting and pasting from his travel journal. oh, oh. and the sex scene! ugh! i don't expect wonders from male writers when it comes to sex scenes, but this one was just... why even have it in there at all? went something like this.... little bit of foreplay, insertion, and then... and i quote, "she grabbed his buttocks as she came." new paragraph. "he came." i do not lie, and i have not omitted anything. it was so ugh, ugh, ugh, from both a writer's perspective and a romantic's perspective. but mostly from a writer's perspective.
the point of all this is not to discourage you from reading the book, but rather to explain a VERY important realization i came to while trying to force myself further into the novel before putting it down for good. this was one of demille's first books. he's come so far as a writer and a novelist since that first one. the first one is always going to be somewhat less than perfect. it will probably have parts that are messy, parts that are awkward, parts that are anti-climactic. parts that are over-descriptive, parts where the dialogue is stilted and forced. so i don't need the first one to be perfect, i just need it to a) tell the story that's rattling around in my head and b) tell it well enough to get an agent and get that first publishing credit under my belt!
now, on to our soon-to-be-regularly scheduled posting...
so i just re-read the entire harry potter series. fucking fabulous. i mean, jk rowling is a genius. i appreciate this even more now that i've been writing my own novel. she is able to weave together plot elements like magic (mwhaha), and when she does the big writing no-no -- including a scene that doesn't advance the plot or reveal something about the characters -- it is always so much fun to read that you don't care if it advances the plot or not, you could read her writing about opening a can of alphagetti.
now, i've been finished with HP and friends for a couple of weeks, so in bookless desperation, i cracked open one of chris's nelson demille books, called charm school. i like him and his stuff, generally. in fact, some of his books are downright fantastic -- see the lion's game, cathedral, talbot odyssey. this one, though... not so much. for one thing, he is writing in third person, and when the character thinks something to himself, it is put in quotation marks!!! i know it's a small thing, but it's driving me nuts, cause i keep thinking.... is someone else in the room that i missed? secondly, there are these incredibly long descriptive scenes. i know, it's the pot calling the kettle black cause i've been known to enoy writing the odd descriptive scene myself, but these are like.... about antique shops in moscow and shit. makes me wonder if he's cutting and pasting from his travel journal. oh, oh. and the sex scene! ugh! i don't expect wonders from male writers when it comes to sex scenes, but this one was just... why even have it in there at all? went something like this.... little bit of foreplay, insertion, and then... and i quote, "she grabbed his buttocks as she came." new paragraph. "he came." i do not lie, and i have not omitted anything. it was so ugh, ugh, ugh, from both a writer's perspective and a romantic's perspective. but mostly from a writer's perspective.
the point of all this is not to discourage you from reading the book, but rather to explain a VERY important realization i came to while trying to force myself further into the novel before putting it down for good. this was one of demille's first books. he's come so far as a writer and a novelist since that first one. the first one is always going to be somewhat less than perfect. it will probably have parts that are messy, parts that are awkward, parts that are anti-climactic. parts that are over-descriptive, parts where the dialogue is stilted and forced. so i don't need the first one to be perfect, i just need it to a) tell the story that's rattling around in my head and b) tell it well enough to get an agent and get that first publishing credit under my belt!
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
apostasy and confession
so.... it's been a while. again. i have no idea who still reads this blog. lord knows i'd stop looking for new posts if it were me. i'm going to do better, i promise. ;) have i promised that before? i'm going to have to look in my archives and see.
so here's the thing. i haven't been writing. christmas vacation in texas came up, then mom's visit, then a quick work deadline, then a break from work which i didn' take advantage of, now more work. i realized the other day that it has been almost two months since i wrote an original word. oh, i've been editing. yes, i have, almost every day. trading words for better words. correcting (i hope) grammatical mistakes. chopping up the occasional run-on sentence. you know what? that's not editing, it's an excuse.
i really do need to edit, though. when i started The Book, i had a rough idea of where i wanted the plot to go. that's it. i had three major plot points and a rather large group of main characters who i wanted to write about. now, i've got about 170 pages of rough draft, and 75,000 words. in december, it was already getting to the point that i had figured out that while my three major plot points remained, i needed some subplots and foreshadowing and whatnot. i became OBSESSED with the need to change what i had done already, to the point that i could no longer write forward. so i printed out my manuscript at the time, and started scribbling on it with a pen. didn't really do much else though. oh, i'd open word and open my files, but then i'd get distracted, or more honestly, i would avoid working on The Book. i told myself that if the files were open, i was working on it. snort. what an ass. anyway, i got depressed after that. someone told me they thought i had ADD, and i used that for an excuse for about a week -- i won't finish the book, i have ADD, i can't finish anything. i mean, i've never successfully dieted, why would finishing a book be any different? then i kicked myself in the ass because that is such a moronic excuse. writing is by damn sight a lot more fun than dieting, for one thing. so i got over the ADD thing, but then had more depression. every time i thought about editing the book, some really psychotic voice in my head would pipe up about throwing myself in front of a mack truck. that lasted for a bit. and then today, voila, i opened the fucking file and actually fucking edited. funny how when you tell your mind to shut the fuck up and just let yourself do what you need to do, life gets more simple. and more satisfying.
today, i decided to stop excusing myself and actually EDITED my first chapter, as in junked quite a bit of it and rewrote the sections i junked with my new ideas. i am VERY happy for several reasons. first, it felt so good to actually write again rather than just fiddle with words and phrases. it felt like sex after no sex for a really long time. ironically, other than sex, writing is the only thing i do that gets me completely out of my conscious mind. i know that doesn't make sense since writing requires quite a bit of 'higher' brain function, but that's how i feel. i really am one of those people who feels like they're in a fugue state when writing. i do my best work when i'm just sitting in front of the computer and letting it flow, out of 'my' control. second, i like the plot points i've foreshadowed and the bit of world building i've redone in this chapter. i have high hopes for my future editing endeavours, and for the first time in a while, i am actually looking forward to being able to write new chapters and finish the book. third, it's always good to have DONE something, rather than just thought about it to death.
and in celebration of this momentous moment, wherein i feel like i'm back on track and chugging along again, i'm announcing the working title of The Book. drum roll please. personal demons. wow. how anti-climactic.
so here's the thing. i haven't been writing. christmas vacation in texas came up, then mom's visit, then a quick work deadline, then a break from work which i didn' take advantage of, now more work. i realized the other day that it has been almost two months since i wrote an original word. oh, i've been editing. yes, i have, almost every day. trading words for better words. correcting (i hope) grammatical mistakes. chopping up the occasional run-on sentence. you know what? that's not editing, it's an excuse.
i really do need to edit, though. when i started The Book, i had a rough idea of where i wanted the plot to go. that's it. i had three major plot points and a rather large group of main characters who i wanted to write about. now, i've got about 170 pages of rough draft, and 75,000 words. in december, it was already getting to the point that i had figured out that while my three major plot points remained, i needed some subplots and foreshadowing and whatnot. i became OBSESSED with the need to change what i had done already, to the point that i could no longer write forward. so i printed out my manuscript at the time, and started scribbling on it with a pen. didn't really do much else though. oh, i'd open word and open my files, but then i'd get distracted, or more honestly, i would avoid working on The Book. i told myself that if the files were open, i was working on it. snort. what an ass. anyway, i got depressed after that. someone told me they thought i had ADD, and i used that for an excuse for about a week -- i won't finish the book, i have ADD, i can't finish anything. i mean, i've never successfully dieted, why would finishing a book be any different? then i kicked myself in the ass because that is such a moronic excuse. writing is by damn sight a lot more fun than dieting, for one thing. so i got over the ADD thing, but then had more depression. every time i thought about editing the book, some really psychotic voice in my head would pipe up about throwing myself in front of a mack truck. that lasted for a bit. and then today, voila, i opened the fucking file and actually fucking edited. funny how when you tell your mind to shut the fuck up and just let yourself do what you need to do, life gets more simple. and more satisfying.
today, i decided to stop excusing myself and actually EDITED my first chapter, as in junked quite a bit of it and rewrote the sections i junked with my new ideas. i am VERY happy for several reasons. first, it felt so good to actually write again rather than just fiddle with words and phrases. it felt like sex after no sex for a really long time. ironically, other than sex, writing is the only thing i do that gets me completely out of my conscious mind. i know that doesn't make sense since writing requires quite a bit of 'higher' brain function, but that's how i feel. i really am one of those people who feels like they're in a fugue state when writing. i do my best work when i'm just sitting in front of the computer and letting it flow, out of 'my' control. second, i like the plot points i've foreshadowed and the bit of world building i've redone in this chapter. i have high hopes for my future editing endeavours, and for the first time in a while, i am actually looking forward to being able to write new chapters and finish the book. third, it's always good to have DONE something, rather than just thought about it to death.
and in celebration of this momentous moment, wherein i feel like i'm back on track and chugging along again, i'm announcing the working title of The Book. drum roll please. personal demons. wow. how anti-climactic.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
is it plagarism if i have permission?
if you get a chance, hop on over to jason's blog to check out his "miscellaneous top lists of 2006." after i read his lists, i told him i wanted to copy the idea for my blog, and he said to go ahead. so here i am. going ahead. (going to be redundant for readers of both blogs, since jason and i have very similar taste.)
top 5 movies SEEN in 2006 - in no particular order
1. casino royale - could daniel craig BE any hotter?
2. talladega nights: the ballad of ricky bobby - reminds me of home
3. the departed - so, so good. this movie was very emotionally involving.
4. inside man - good crime flick, well written, humorous and slick
5. pirates of the caribbean - had many sucky aspects, but johnny depp is the shit
top 5 movies i SHOULD HAVE seen in 2006 - in no particular order
1. borat
2. babel
3. little children
4. little miss sunshine
5. miami vice
top 5 movies i'm GLAD I DIDN'T see in 2006 - in no particular order
1. crank
2. snakes on a plane
3. step up
4. the hills have eyes
5. anything in the saw series
top 5 books read in 2006
1. a fistful of charms by kim harrison
2. definitely dead by charlaine harris
3. undead series by mary janice davidson
4. the eyre affair by jasper fforde
5. the traveler by john twelve hawkes
(can you tell i like pulp fiction? i read tons of books in 2006, and all my favorites are contemporary fantasy.)
top 5 tv shows watched in 2006 (new)
1. battlestar galactica
2. bones
3. entourage
4. supernatural
5. boston legal
6. deadwood
7. 24
8. house
9. daily show
10. colbert report
11. ugly betty
(yes, i know that's more than five, but what can i say? i like tv....)
top 5 tv shows watched in 2006 (syndication)
1. the simpsons
2. star trek: deep space nine
3. arrested development
4. family guy
5. without a trace
top 5 events of 2006
1. getting engaged
2. quitting access justice
3. winning a week in the province writing contest
4. getting more than halfway through writing my book - thanks to everyone for the encouragement but especially to margarita, without whom i wouldn't have made it this far
5. getting my new job
top 5 meals of 2006
1. las margarita's salsa
2. wrap zone's bombay wrap with chicken
3. milestone's tomato basil capellini
4. milestone's garlic and goat cheese appetizer
5. grandma's spaghetti and meatballs
top 5 commodities of 2006 (purchased or recieved)
1. creativ zen vision m video mp3 player
2. canon elph digital camera
3. engagement ring
4. HP pavillion desktop computer with 21" widescreen monitor
5. sirius satellite radio
top 5 albums of 2006 (chosen by how often i listen to them)
1. chemical city by sam roberts
2. ambassador by elliott brood
3. thumbelina's one night stand by melissa mcclelland
4. with teeth by nine inch nails
5. brushfire fairytales by jack johnson (old, i know, but i listen to it a lot)
top 5 songs of right this fucking minute
1. you know i love you baby by melissa mcclelland
2. uprising down under by sam roberts
3. gold lion by the yeah yeah yeahs
4. everlong by the foo fighters
5. the hand that feeds by nine inch nails
top 5 orgasms of 2006
just kidding!
top 5 movies SEEN in 2006 - in no particular order
1. casino royale - could daniel craig BE any hotter?
2. talladega nights: the ballad of ricky bobby - reminds me of home
3. the departed - so, so good. this movie was very emotionally involving.
4. inside man - good crime flick, well written, humorous and slick
5. pirates of the caribbean - had many sucky aspects, but johnny depp is the shit
top 5 movies i SHOULD HAVE seen in 2006 - in no particular order
1. borat
2. babel
3. little children
4. little miss sunshine
5. miami vice
top 5 movies i'm GLAD I DIDN'T see in 2006 - in no particular order
1. crank
2. snakes on a plane
3. step up
4. the hills have eyes
5. anything in the saw series
top 5 books read in 2006
1. a fistful of charms by kim harrison
2. definitely dead by charlaine harris
3. undead series by mary janice davidson
4. the eyre affair by jasper fforde
5. the traveler by john twelve hawkes
(can you tell i like pulp fiction? i read tons of books in 2006, and all my favorites are contemporary fantasy.)
top 5 tv shows watched in 2006 (new)
1. battlestar galactica
2. bones
3. entourage
4. supernatural
5. boston legal
6. deadwood
7. 24
8. house
9. daily show
10. colbert report
11. ugly betty
(yes, i know that's more than five, but what can i say? i like tv....)
top 5 tv shows watched in 2006 (syndication)
1. the simpsons
2. star trek: deep space nine
3. arrested development
4. family guy
5. without a trace
top 5 events of 2006
1. getting engaged
2. quitting access justice
3. winning a week in the province writing contest
4. getting more than halfway through writing my book - thanks to everyone for the encouragement but especially to margarita, without whom i wouldn't have made it this far
5. getting my new job
top 5 meals of 2006
1. las margarita's salsa
2. wrap zone's bombay wrap with chicken
3. milestone's tomato basil capellini
4. milestone's garlic and goat cheese appetizer
5. grandma's spaghetti and meatballs
top 5 commodities of 2006 (purchased or recieved)
1. creativ zen vision m video mp3 player
2. canon elph digital camera
3. engagement ring
4. HP pavillion desktop computer with 21" widescreen monitor
5. sirius satellite radio
top 5 albums of 2006 (chosen by how often i listen to them)
1. chemical city by sam roberts
2. ambassador by elliott brood
3. thumbelina's one night stand by melissa mcclelland
4. with teeth by nine inch nails
5. brushfire fairytales by jack johnson (old, i know, but i listen to it a lot)
top 5 songs of right this fucking minute
1. you know i love you baby by melissa mcclelland
2. uprising down under by sam roberts
3. gold lion by the yeah yeah yeahs
4. everlong by the foo fighters
5. the hand that feeds by nine inch nails
top 5 orgasms of 2006
just kidding!
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
cannibalistic sex
not really. though jason really encourages it with a passion that makes me wonder about what goes on in the dark depths of his mental sexual dungeon. ;) i had the pleasure (no pun intended) of writing about a kiss in my last chapter. it was SO FUN! i can now understand why laurell k. hamilton, who used to write about murder and mayhem among supernatural creepy crawlies, now writes about multiple orgasms with multiple partners. i mean, if writing a kiss was that much fun, how fun is it going to be to write actual sex?!?
the feeling was quite similar to the feeling i get when writing fight scenes (of which i have had two major ones now). what is the lesson to be learned here, grasshopper? writing ACTION is more stimulating to the author, or this author anyway, than descriptive or expository writing. don't get me wrong. i love descriptive writing, almost to a fault. but writing action, whether it be sexual or violent, provides a thrill that is somehow akin to the real thing. i don't know if that's because it brings to mind your memories of those things, or if imagining the acts pokes around in those areas of the brain that live next door to the hippocampus. either way, whether it's a character's fist making contact with someone's face, or a character's mouth making contact with someone's neck, writing an intense action scene is an awesome experience.
i can't wait until my next one... which unfortunately is probably a few chapters away as my heroine has some detecting to do. we must solve the mystery, not go around fucking and fighting everything that walks!
the feeling was quite similar to the feeling i get when writing fight scenes (of which i have had two major ones now). what is the lesson to be learned here, grasshopper? writing ACTION is more stimulating to the author, or this author anyway, than descriptive or expository writing. don't get me wrong. i love descriptive writing, almost to a fault. but writing action, whether it be sexual or violent, provides a thrill that is somehow akin to the real thing. i don't know if that's because it brings to mind your memories of those things, or if imagining the acts pokes around in those areas of the brain that live next door to the hippocampus. either way, whether it's a character's fist making contact with someone's face, or a character's mouth making contact with someone's neck, writing an intense action scene is an awesome experience.
i can't wait until my next one... which unfortunately is probably a few chapters away as my heroine has some detecting to do. we must solve the mystery, not go around fucking and fighting everything that walks!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
oh, oh, oh! or... i'm a dumb shit
instead of thinking about my book, i thought about thinking about my book, and how i don't do it as much. and i was like... why not? and then i fucking realized what the fucking problem is. sorry about the profanity, by the way. i cuss when i'm happy, mad, sad or otherwise excited. anyway. the PROBLEM is that i am not READING ANYTHING. sure, i read the paper, i surf my favorite sites. but when did i finish my last full BOOK? i've started a couple of crappy ones, and not finished them. i think the last book i read from cover to cover was.... ugh. janet evanovich's 12 sharp. and before that, i think it was the kelly armstrong books IN SEPTEMBER. yes, that's right. IN SEPTEMBER. which is not to say that i haven't been looking for new good books. i have been. all the time. but i haven't found any. i've been prowling the library like a wild animal, accruing overdue fines on books that are too crappy or uninteresting to read. THAT'S THE FUCKING PROBLEM.
all writers know that what makes them writers is that they are first and foremost readers. over the summer, when all my favorite authors were releasing books like literary ho's, i was reading 4-5 books per week. none of my favs have released anything since september or so, and none of them will until march. march, i say! why do all my favs come out in the spring and summer?!?! why do they make me wait?!?! i've read all your old stuff! write faster! my writing depends on it!
all writers know that what makes them writers is that they are first and foremost readers. over the summer, when all my favorite authors were releasing books like literary ho's, i was reading 4-5 books per week. none of my favs have released anything since september or so, and none of them will until march. march, i say! why do all my favs come out in the spring and summer?!?! why do they make me wait?!?! i've read all your old stuff! write faster! my writing depends on it!
sheepish
umm...well, it's been over a month since i posted here. i was rather hoping that it had been less than a month. a month is a nice round, arbitrary number. less than = no guilt. more than = guilt. so, here i am, posting and feeling guilty and sheepish.
i don't know why i didn't post for so long. it's been an eventful time. i won a week in that contest, ironically the week after i posted about it. i'll find out this weekend if i'm in the top three or not. also, the furry one and i got engaged. no big surprise there, but it's nice. and so's my ring ;) i printed out a draft of my novel so far -- 160 pages, 70,000 words. i figure i've got about another hundred pages to go, which is ten weeks if i work at a chapter per week pace.
the book has been giving me some trouble lately. why is it that i only post about the trouble? i don't post about all the times that i get a warm fuzzy from writing, the times when i have the writer's equivalent of a brain orgasm because what i'm writing feels that damn good to me, the times i send off my chapter to margarita with satisfaction and pride.
nope, you don't get to hear about that. you get to hear about the tough times, the struggles, the blocks. right now, i'm in a block PERIOD. earlier in the fall, i was writing a chapter a week. since the beginning of november, i think it's been a chapter every two weeks. traumatizing. part of the problem is that i'm paralyzed by the thought of the agent search process. i'm already thinking about query letters and editing and hooks even though i've not finished a draft. luckily, margarita has helped exorcise that demon from my mind, and i'm not thinking about it. as much. i'm still thinking a lot about editing, but that's because i've changed a basic premise of the book, so i'm going to need to do some editing when the first draft is done. i KNOW KNOW KNOW i have to wait until it's done because if i wait to finish it until i've edited everything i need to edit, i won't ever get it done. i'm also having insecurity problems, doubting the readability of both my writing and my story. i'm worried that my main characters won't hold a reader's interest the way they hold mine. the only thing that's keeping me together is a line i read in stephen king's book "on writing." to paraphrase: the first draft of a novel is you telling the story to yourself. the second draft of a novel is you telling the story to someone else. i'm living for the second draft, and i think that's bad, because i'm only 2/3 of the way through on the damn book. i'm not giving it all of my attention, and i think it's coming through in both the length of time it's taking me to write and the product i'm writing.
i think to some extent writing is like losing weight. not that i've been too successful at maintaining the latter, but i've probably lost over 150 pounds if you add all my diets together over the years, so i know what it takes to be successful at taking it off if not keeping it off. anyway, you can think and you can plan and you can make charts and journals and all that shit. in the end, the only thing that matters is getting off your ass and DOING it. preparing healthy food. going to the gym when all you want to do is sleep. sitting in front of the computer and typing even when you're drenched with apprehension and worry. get. it. done. or, as my southern friends might say... git 'er dunn!
i don't know why i didn't post for so long. it's been an eventful time. i won a week in that contest, ironically the week after i posted about it. i'll find out this weekend if i'm in the top three or not. also, the furry one and i got engaged. no big surprise there, but it's nice. and so's my ring ;) i printed out a draft of my novel so far -- 160 pages, 70,000 words. i figure i've got about another hundred pages to go, which is ten weeks if i work at a chapter per week pace.
the book has been giving me some trouble lately. why is it that i only post about the trouble? i don't post about all the times that i get a warm fuzzy from writing, the times when i have the writer's equivalent of a brain orgasm because what i'm writing feels that damn good to me, the times i send off my chapter to margarita with satisfaction and pride.
nope, you don't get to hear about that. you get to hear about the tough times, the struggles, the blocks. right now, i'm in a block PERIOD. earlier in the fall, i was writing a chapter a week. since the beginning of november, i think it's been a chapter every two weeks. traumatizing. part of the problem is that i'm paralyzed by the thought of the agent search process. i'm already thinking about query letters and editing and hooks even though i've not finished a draft. luckily, margarita has helped exorcise that demon from my mind, and i'm not thinking about it. as much. i'm still thinking a lot about editing, but that's because i've changed a basic premise of the book, so i'm going to need to do some editing when the first draft is done. i KNOW KNOW KNOW i have to wait until it's done because if i wait to finish it until i've edited everything i need to edit, i won't ever get it done. i'm also having insecurity problems, doubting the readability of both my writing and my story. i'm worried that my main characters won't hold a reader's interest the way they hold mine. the only thing that's keeping me together is a line i read in stephen king's book "on writing." to paraphrase: the first draft of a novel is you telling the story to yourself. the second draft of a novel is you telling the story to someone else. i'm living for the second draft, and i think that's bad, because i'm only 2/3 of the way through on the damn book. i'm not giving it all of my attention, and i think it's coming through in both the length of time it's taking me to write and the product i'm writing.
i think to some extent writing is like losing weight. not that i've been too successful at maintaining the latter, but i've probably lost over 150 pounds if you add all my diets together over the years, so i know what it takes to be successful at taking it off if not keeping it off. anyway, you can think and you can plan and you can make charts and journals and all that shit. in the end, the only thing that matters is getting off your ass and DOING it. preparing healthy food. going to the gym when all you want to do is sleep. sitting in front of the computer and typing even when you're drenched with apprehension and worry. get. it. done. or, as my southern friends might say... git 'er dunn!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
the contest
i only wish that the contest to which i am referring bore any resemblance at all to the famous seinfeld contest. alas, this one has nothing to do with masturbation, fantasies about nude neighbors, or money. it DOES raise the issue of whether or not i am queen of my domain -- in this case, my creative mind.
a local newspaper is holding a contest for canadian writers to complete a chapter in a 'serial thriller.' each sunday, the winner is published in the newspaper, and more importantly, qualifies for the grand prize, which is a trip to mexico and a meeting with a literary agent who will read the winner's manuscript. the second and third place winners also receive the latter half of the prize, which is the most important reward to someone like me anyway. my goal is to just win a week so that i have a 3 in 11 chance of submitting my manuscript to an editor who HAS to read THE WHOLE THING (not just the first page, like so many editors do before sending a scathing rejection letter).
last week, i submitted a chapter (which is limited to 1000 words -- YOU try putting in authentic character development and advancing the plot in such a short space and see how fucking hard it is) and made it to the final four. this week, i submitted a chapter and got a big fat nothing. i've read this week's winner, and my brain is already desperately casting around for some kind of something that will allow me to win next week. and therein lies the problem.
i have very little interest in the story -- it's a cop drama, which bores the hell out of me under the best circumstances. cops have too many rules, and i don't like rules in fiction. i don't really identify much with the characters, so i find it difficult to imagine them in three dimensions. also, i write long fiction -- novels. i'm not sure i have the chops to write something so short. so why i am i wasting my time? i want the prize so bad i can taste it. i don't care if my name (and my story) gets published in the paper. but the thought of getting past the hurdle of having an agent read more than just my first page fills me with more excitement than the prospect of brad pitt appearing naked and willing on my doorstep (oh, lord, what's happened to me?!?!?!).
last week, i spent TWO DAYS working on the chapter that didn't even make the final four. i gave up time that i should have been spending on MY book. on thursday, when the paper annonced the final four by email, i refreshed my email once every two minutes until i knew the winners had been notified, and i was not one. every time the phone rang, i hoped it might be the sunday edition editor calling to tell me congratulations. this morning when i opened the paper, guess which section i went to first? in short, i am obsessed with this contest and with becoming eligible for the grand prize.
it is not a healthy obsession. i don't want to think about it all the time. i want to go home tonight and write the stupid thing -- which realistically should only take a couple of hours given its length -- and think about my book for the rest of the week. i know that's what i should do. but what i should do and what i actually do in many aspects of my life don't usually overlap at all.
when i was a kid, i never won any contests in school. my best friend stefanie, who i have no trouble admitting is much smarter and more creative than i am, always won, and i got second. as usual, childhood trauma rears its ugly head and stomps on my rational, logical and healthy thought processes to produce this obsession with the contest. i gotta win this one. second just isn't good enough.
a local newspaper is holding a contest for canadian writers to complete a chapter in a 'serial thriller.' each sunday, the winner is published in the newspaper, and more importantly, qualifies for the grand prize, which is a trip to mexico and a meeting with a literary agent who will read the winner's manuscript. the second and third place winners also receive the latter half of the prize, which is the most important reward to someone like me anyway. my goal is to just win a week so that i have a 3 in 11 chance of submitting my manuscript to an editor who HAS to read THE WHOLE THING (not just the first page, like so many editors do before sending a scathing rejection letter).
last week, i submitted a chapter (which is limited to 1000 words -- YOU try putting in authentic character development and advancing the plot in such a short space and see how fucking hard it is) and made it to the final four. this week, i submitted a chapter and got a big fat nothing. i've read this week's winner, and my brain is already desperately casting around for some kind of something that will allow me to win next week. and therein lies the problem.
i have very little interest in the story -- it's a cop drama, which bores the hell out of me under the best circumstances. cops have too many rules, and i don't like rules in fiction. i don't really identify much with the characters, so i find it difficult to imagine them in three dimensions. also, i write long fiction -- novels. i'm not sure i have the chops to write something so short. so why i am i wasting my time? i want the prize so bad i can taste it. i don't care if my name (and my story) gets published in the paper. but the thought of getting past the hurdle of having an agent read more than just my first page fills me with more excitement than the prospect of brad pitt appearing naked and willing on my doorstep (oh, lord, what's happened to me?!?!?!).
last week, i spent TWO DAYS working on the chapter that didn't even make the final four. i gave up time that i should have been spending on MY book. on thursday, when the paper annonced the final four by email, i refreshed my email once every two minutes until i knew the winners had been notified, and i was not one. every time the phone rang, i hoped it might be the sunday edition editor calling to tell me congratulations. this morning when i opened the paper, guess which section i went to first? in short, i am obsessed with this contest and with becoming eligible for the grand prize.
it is not a healthy obsession. i don't want to think about it all the time. i want to go home tonight and write the stupid thing -- which realistically should only take a couple of hours given its length -- and think about my book for the rest of the week. i know that's what i should do. but what i should do and what i actually do in many aspects of my life don't usually overlap at all.
when i was a kid, i never won any contests in school. my best friend stefanie, who i have no trouble admitting is much smarter and more creative than i am, always won, and i got second. as usual, childhood trauma rears its ugly head and stomps on my rational, logical and healthy thought processes to produce this obsession with the contest. i gotta win this one. second just isn't good enough.
Friday, October 06, 2006
question answered and other things
no doubt you all have been chewing your fingernails with worry, wondering what decision i made about taking the data entry job. i turned it down with chris's full support (he was even more certain about the 'no' decision than i was). then i spent the next two weeks working my ass off on report revisions for my current job. not complaing. lots of money to sock away for lean times. which might begin now since the revisions are complete, and no other projects have been directed my way.
there are two 'other things' that i'm going to post about in this blog. (why do i feel like i am writing a third grade level paper? in this paper, i will talk about items one, two, and three.) the first is the difficulty of getting back into The Book after an almost two week work-induced haitus. the distance gained by such a break is a double-edged sword. good side: i get perspective and see the outline of the book rather than getting mired in the chapter details. bad side: i get perspective and see holes. which in and of itself is actually a good thing, but when the holes seem to be the size of a small eastern european country and make you think that maybe your writing and your story are crap crap crappy, it ain't so good. luckily, i seem to have found a happy medium and have a feasible plan about plastering the holes that will require a decent amount of editing but won't take a herculean re-write effort.
the second thing is that i spent a goodly amount of time this week pouring over the 2005 guide to the publishing market, looking up agents and publishers. it was a learning experience, that's for sure. some folks are snobs and won't take submissions from new writers. bitches. who needs them anyway? (a reasonable voice in my head is right now saying, "we do" but i am resolutely ignoring it.) others take new writers but they don't publish very many copies, and since writers (especially new writers) are paid mostly by royalties... well, let's have a little math lesson, shall we? 10% of 10 bucks (most first novels come out in paperback) equals $1. $1 times 1000 copies printed (which is what most small publishers put out) is $1000. that would be a payment of 1000 bucks for how many months of work? i dooooon't think so. it appears as though getting an agent is the way to go. an agent is kind of like a lawyer. they will take shitloads of your money but they will end up netting you more than you would have gotten if you had self-represented. most agents only want three chapters and a cover letter, which means that i could start looking for them now, but they also want you to be able to give them a manuscript the very second they ask for it, so i'll have to wait to start the search. which gives me plenty of time to prepare for the numerous rejection letters i am undoubtedly going to recieve. (i'm not being negative -- it's just a part of trying to get published.) so anyway. look at me, actually trying to learn the business i am choosing to work in.
so yeah. that's it.
there are two 'other things' that i'm going to post about in this blog. (why do i feel like i am writing a third grade level paper? in this paper, i will talk about items one, two, and three.) the first is the difficulty of getting back into The Book after an almost two week work-induced haitus. the distance gained by such a break is a double-edged sword. good side: i get perspective and see the outline of the book rather than getting mired in the chapter details. bad side: i get perspective and see holes. which in and of itself is actually a good thing, but when the holes seem to be the size of a small eastern european country and make you think that maybe your writing and your story are crap crap crappy, it ain't so good. luckily, i seem to have found a happy medium and have a feasible plan about plastering the holes that will require a decent amount of editing but won't take a herculean re-write effort.
the second thing is that i spent a goodly amount of time this week pouring over the 2005 guide to the publishing market, looking up agents and publishers. it was a learning experience, that's for sure. some folks are snobs and won't take submissions from new writers. bitches. who needs them anyway? (a reasonable voice in my head is right now saying, "we do" but i am resolutely ignoring it.) others take new writers but they don't publish very many copies, and since writers (especially new writers) are paid mostly by royalties... well, let's have a little math lesson, shall we? 10% of 10 bucks (most first novels come out in paperback) equals $1. $1 times 1000 copies printed (which is what most small publishers put out) is $1000. that would be a payment of 1000 bucks for how many months of work? i dooooon't think so. it appears as though getting an agent is the way to go. an agent is kind of like a lawyer. they will take shitloads of your money but they will end up netting you more than you would have gotten if you had self-represented. most agents only want three chapters and a cover letter, which means that i could start looking for them now, but they also want you to be able to give them a manuscript the very second they ask for it, so i'll have to wait to start the search. which gives me plenty of time to prepare for the numerous rejection letters i am undoubtedly going to recieve. (i'm not being negative -- it's just a part of trying to get published.) so anyway. look at me, actually trying to learn the business i am choosing to work in.
so yeah. that's it.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
to write or not to write, that is the question
i can't remember if i posted under that title before... if i did, forgive me for being entirely uncreative. if i didn't, then fuck you for jumping to conclusions.
here's the thing. i've been working pretty hard the last couple of weeks, i've had deadlines approach and recieved some new assignments with more deadlines. i haven't had the mental energy to write very much. i've written a bit, enough to keep me thinking about the characters and what's going to happen next, but not as much as i'd like. i'm behind on my weekly submissions because the work has been full time and then some.
here's the other thing. i just got offered a data entry job with a government branch. it's technically classified as research, but it's data entry and document coding. the job will suck. but it might get my foot in the door for actual real research jobs. my current job is about to come to an end, though the possibility of getting the occasional scrap exists. the new job would be from 8:30-5:00 in downtown vancouver. the pay would be about 4,000/month. there are pros: my foot gets in the door with the research gig, the pay is good, there's work for the forseeable future. there are also cons: i would be gone for twelve hours because of the commute, i lose any chance to do other research jobs cause i won't have time. and the biggest con of all: no time to write The Book. my experince of the last several weeks has shown me that i can't write and work full time at the same time.
so i have to ask myself at this point: how important is this dream? is it stupid? is it a waste of time, and the possiblity of starting an adult future with chris? how much do i want to finish the book and why? do i take a haitus or do i refuse the job and continue writing? will this hurt my chances of getting a job in the future? do i hope for the best and prepare for the worst? does taking the job preclude the possiblity of writing The Book? does writing The Book constitute an act of childish hope? good lord. what will happen to me, to my psyche, if i don't finish The Book because i took a job? and what will happen to me, to my psyche, if i don't take the job, i finish The Book, and chris and i are forced to eke out an existence without anything to look forward to because i squandered our future on the barest hint of an idea of what i wanted to be?
i need some answers, and it pisses me off that they are never really very easy to obtain. and they are usually unsatisfactory in some major way. i am going to have to sacrifice something. if it were just me, i wouldn't worry about it. i'd throw caution to the wind and write the goddamned book. but it's not just me, and i don't want to end up sacrificing chris's well-being for my own. i fucking hate making decisions like this. hate. it.
here's the thing. i've been working pretty hard the last couple of weeks, i've had deadlines approach and recieved some new assignments with more deadlines. i haven't had the mental energy to write very much. i've written a bit, enough to keep me thinking about the characters and what's going to happen next, but not as much as i'd like. i'm behind on my weekly submissions because the work has been full time and then some.
here's the other thing. i just got offered a data entry job with a government branch. it's technically classified as research, but it's data entry and document coding. the job will suck. but it might get my foot in the door for actual real research jobs. my current job is about to come to an end, though the possibility of getting the occasional scrap exists. the new job would be from 8:30-5:00 in downtown vancouver. the pay would be about 4,000/month. there are pros: my foot gets in the door with the research gig, the pay is good, there's work for the forseeable future. there are also cons: i would be gone for twelve hours because of the commute, i lose any chance to do other research jobs cause i won't have time. and the biggest con of all: no time to write The Book. my experince of the last several weeks has shown me that i can't write and work full time at the same time.
so i have to ask myself at this point: how important is this dream? is it stupid? is it a waste of time, and the possiblity of starting an adult future with chris? how much do i want to finish the book and why? do i take a haitus or do i refuse the job and continue writing? will this hurt my chances of getting a job in the future? do i hope for the best and prepare for the worst? does taking the job preclude the possiblity of writing The Book? does writing The Book constitute an act of childish hope? good lord. what will happen to me, to my psyche, if i don't finish The Book because i took a job? and what will happen to me, to my psyche, if i don't take the job, i finish The Book, and chris and i are forced to eke out an existence without anything to look forward to because i squandered our future on the barest hint of an idea of what i wanted to be?
i need some answers, and it pisses me off that they are never really very easy to obtain. and they are usually unsatisfactory in some major way. i am going to have to sacrifice something. if it were just me, i wouldn't worry about it. i'd throw caution to the wind and write the goddamned book. but it's not just me, and i don't want to end up sacrificing chris's well-being for my own. i fucking hate making decisions like this. hate. it.
Friday, September 08, 2006
laughter
**too much information warning: if reading corny, lovey-dovey stuff makes you squeamish, please skip the first paragraph and proceed to the second... or maybe skip the whole post**
two nights ago, i laid in bed and cried. i wasn't crying because i was sad or because i was angry or because i was sexually frustrated. no. i was crying because i love chris so much that it fills me up and spills out. sometimes this overflow takes the form of hysterical giggling, sometimes it takes the form of tears. my tears (oh, god, i think i am making myself nauseous with this stuff, but alas, the story needs to be told) that night were fueld by a mental picture that i couldn't erase from my head or my heart; it just kept replaying over and over again. chris was sitting on our moldy green couch, and he was laughing. yeah, that's it. that's all. but bear with me! this is not some hysterial, overly-romantic rambling about how very very cuuuuute my boyfriend is when he laughs. this is a hysterical, overly-romantic rambling about the nature of laughter itself.
chris's laughter is unique in my world. and i don't use that world lightly; i recognize that unique means singular, not just weird or strange or a little bit different but not really that different. what makes his so special? well, i don't want to get to the climax before you've had some foreplay, so i'll save that for later.
how often do you really listen to people laugh? i mean, we hear it, we hear it all the time, but how often to we really listen? what does laughter have to say? what does it mean? i have one friend who only chuckles quietly under his breath, never letting loose with a laugh. another friend laughs, really laughs, when someone has put down another person; he only laughs at other people's discomfort or awkwardness or social retardation. another friend laughs at his own jokes, never anyone else's. when you really listen, you can hear in laughter a multitude of emotions: sarcasm, cycnicism, derision, happiness, amusement, embarassment, hysterics. laughter is like a hidden language, or maybe a dead language, one that we use to communicate but is rarely understood or correctly interpreted. the next time you hear someone laugh, turn on your universal translator and listen for that language. do you hear discomfort under the peals? cyncism under the snorts? sexual attraction under the giggles?
since i've never been one for a whole lot of foreplay, let's get to the important part. what makes chris's laughter unique is that, unlike many others, and i would argue unlike all others, his laughter does not contain one iota of anything negative, his language is easily understood. when he laughs, the only things i hear are enjoyment, amusement, and genuine delight. i want to say that his is like the laughter of a child, but even children sometimes laugh at other people's misfortune, even their tinkling laughter can contain a hint of dislike. when chris laughs, his eyes crinkle up and he flashes teeth all the way back to his molars, and if you really freaking listen you hear nothing but pure joy.
i wish i could laugh like that, but since i can't, i'm just happy to be able to inspire it.
two nights ago, i laid in bed and cried. i wasn't crying because i was sad or because i was angry or because i was sexually frustrated. no. i was crying because i love chris so much that it fills me up and spills out. sometimes this overflow takes the form of hysterical giggling, sometimes it takes the form of tears. my tears (oh, god, i think i am making myself nauseous with this stuff, but alas, the story needs to be told) that night were fueld by a mental picture that i couldn't erase from my head or my heart; it just kept replaying over and over again. chris was sitting on our moldy green couch, and he was laughing. yeah, that's it. that's all. but bear with me! this is not some hysterial, overly-romantic rambling about how very very cuuuuute my boyfriend is when he laughs. this is a hysterical, overly-romantic rambling about the nature of laughter itself.
chris's laughter is unique in my world. and i don't use that world lightly; i recognize that unique means singular, not just weird or strange or a little bit different but not really that different. what makes his so special? well, i don't want to get to the climax before you've had some foreplay, so i'll save that for later.
how often do you really listen to people laugh? i mean, we hear it, we hear it all the time, but how often to we really listen? what does laughter have to say? what does it mean? i have one friend who only chuckles quietly under his breath, never letting loose with a laugh. another friend laughs, really laughs, when someone has put down another person; he only laughs at other people's discomfort or awkwardness or social retardation. another friend laughs at his own jokes, never anyone else's. when you really listen, you can hear in laughter a multitude of emotions: sarcasm, cycnicism, derision, happiness, amusement, embarassment, hysterics. laughter is like a hidden language, or maybe a dead language, one that we use to communicate but is rarely understood or correctly interpreted. the next time you hear someone laugh, turn on your universal translator and listen for that language. do you hear discomfort under the peals? cyncism under the snorts? sexual attraction under the giggles?
since i've never been one for a whole lot of foreplay, let's get to the important part. what makes chris's laughter unique is that, unlike many others, and i would argue unlike all others, his laughter does not contain one iota of anything negative, his language is easily understood. when he laughs, the only things i hear are enjoyment, amusement, and genuine delight. i want to say that his is like the laughter of a child, but even children sometimes laugh at other people's misfortune, even their tinkling laughter can contain a hint of dislike. when chris laughs, his eyes crinkle up and he flashes teeth all the way back to his molars, and if you really freaking listen you hear nothing but pure joy.
i wish i could laugh like that, but since i can't, i'm just happy to be able to inspire it.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
oh, bother
i'm going to completely contradict my last post by saying that writing absolutely freaking sucks. for the last week, i have been struggling with the same scene, writing and rewriting, more than thirty pages now, trying to get my characters from point a to point b. this is a new one for me. i have had writer's block before, but it's been because i've convinced myself how bad my ideas are. this time, it stems from having too many possibilities. i remain confident in my story, my plot, my people. i just don't know how to get around this road block.
i've tried action and inaction, talking and not talking, dealing with one subplot or another. none of it seems right. none of it flows like my last chapter did, which practically wrote itself. or the chapter before that, or the chapter before that. i think i am going to have to learn a new way of writing to fill gaps like this, but i don't know what that way is!
i thought that blogging about it might help, but it hasn't so far. i thought that just sitting down and forcing it would help, but it hasn't so far -- it's just kept me from my other work, the work i get paid for that is due in a little over a week. i turn on music, i turn off music. i turn on the tv, i turn off the tv. i pull out some hair. and the more i talk about it and think about it, the more frustrated i get. so i'm just gonna post this, mess that it is... otherwise, i'll stroke out and the blog's new beginning will be its end.
i've tried action and inaction, talking and not talking, dealing with one subplot or another. none of it seems right. none of it flows like my last chapter did, which practically wrote itself. or the chapter before that, or the chapter before that. i think i am going to have to learn a new way of writing to fill gaps like this, but i don't know what that way is!
i thought that blogging about it might help, but it hasn't so far. i thought that just sitting down and forcing it would help, but it hasn't so far -- it's just kept me from my other work, the work i get paid for that is due in a little over a week. i turn on music, i turn off music. i turn on the tv, i turn off the tv. i pull out some hair. and the more i talk about it and think about it, the more frustrated i get. so i'm just gonna post this, mess that it is... otherwise, i'll stroke out and the blog's new beginning will be its end.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
new look, new purpose... still too lazy to capitalize proper nouns
greetings. when i first created this blog (and it really wasn't much of a creative act -- it involved choosing a template from blogger and typing some words in a text box) it was supposed to be a place for me to write and be creative and ruminate upon all the cliches that my daddy always told me: don't let anyone steal your joy, everything happens for a reason, wish in one hand shit in the other and see which one fills up faster... he reiterated each of those classic gems with an almost frightening frequency because he believed in their truth and wisdom.
recently, for possibly the first time in my life, instead of pondering, ponificating, analyzing or agonizing, i actually started to do something. around june-ish, i initiated several large changes in my life. first, i quit my old job. i had great coworkers... and, well, that was the only thing i liked about it, really. the work was very stressful and very unsatisfying, and i realized the other day when i didn't freak out about some news that would have sent me into a screaming rage six months ago that the stress of that job went mostly unacknowledged. nevertheless, it had been killing me emotionally and spiritually, and if i hadn't left when i did, i would have gone over to the dark side of the force. second, i got a new job, doing social science research from home. it pays much better than my old job, and the commute is much shorter. ha. it isn't necessarily steady, and i almost had a panic attack when i realized that i was TURNING INTO MY FATHER, who never had steady work and counted himself in the ranks of the self-employed, otherwise known as contract workers. gulp. but alas, the job allows me to work less hours and get the same (or more) money as my previous one, which leads me to waystation number three on my Journey Toward a Fulfilling Life. the new job has given me the time and mental freedom and energy to start Writing a Book. i have about seventy pages so far. i was lucky enough to find a person who is also Writing a Book willing to share her wonderful work with me, and to keep me on track by exchanging at least ten pages a week of new material. ten pages isn't a lot, but it really is when you are working a near full-time job and trying to maintain a romantic relationship. perspective: if i keep up this pace, i will have a draft completed by valentine's day. i am finally doing something that is meaningful to me. it gives me pleasure. it makes me happy in ways that i never imagined.
and so, i am reshaping the content of this blog. instead of thinking about my dad's cliches, i am living them. it is hard to believe that everything doesn't happen for a reason when i applied for and got a job that gives me the time and money to write. it's hard to think that everything doesn't happen for a reason when through that job, i met a writing partner who helps me every day. it's hard for anyone to steal my joy now that i am doing something i am proud of. so many years of thinking about these things and how to achieve them, and all it took was doing something i really really wanted to do.
from now on, this web log is about books and writing, my two favorite things. and sometimes chris. but of course, he is inextricable from all of it because of his support and his inspiration. right now, i am thinking that many of my posts will be book reviews, ruminations about the writing process and flaky, floaty, shallowly deep ideas that pop into my head but don't really fit into the Book. i hope those of you who still read this blog like the changes.
recently, for possibly the first time in my life, instead of pondering, ponificating, analyzing or agonizing, i actually started to do something. around june-ish, i initiated several large changes in my life. first, i quit my old job. i had great coworkers... and, well, that was the only thing i liked about it, really. the work was very stressful and very unsatisfying, and i realized the other day when i didn't freak out about some news that would have sent me into a screaming rage six months ago that the stress of that job went mostly unacknowledged. nevertheless, it had been killing me emotionally and spiritually, and if i hadn't left when i did, i would have gone over to the dark side of the force. second, i got a new job, doing social science research from home. it pays much better than my old job, and the commute is much shorter. ha. it isn't necessarily steady, and i almost had a panic attack when i realized that i was TURNING INTO MY FATHER, who never had steady work and counted himself in the ranks of the self-employed, otherwise known as contract workers. gulp. but alas, the job allows me to work less hours and get the same (or more) money as my previous one, which leads me to waystation number three on my Journey Toward a Fulfilling Life. the new job has given me the time and mental freedom and energy to start Writing a Book. i have about seventy pages so far. i was lucky enough to find a person who is also Writing a Book willing to share her wonderful work with me, and to keep me on track by exchanging at least ten pages a week of new material. ten pages isn't a lot, but it really is when you are working a near full-time job and trying to maintain a romantic relationship. perspective: if i keep up this pace, i will have a draft completed by valentine's day. i am finally doing something that is meaningful to me. it gives me pleasure. it makes me happy in ways that i never imagined.
and so, i am reshaping the content of this blog. instead of thinking about my dad's cliches, i am living them. it is hard to believe that everything doesn't happen for a reason when i applied for and got a job that gives me the time and money to write. it's hard to think that everything doesn't happen for a reason when through that job, i met a writing partner who helps me every day. it's hard for anyone to steal my joy now that i am doing something i am proud of. so many years of thinking about these things and how to achieve them, and all it took was doing something i really really wanted to do.
from now on, this web log is about books and writing, my two favorite things. and sometimes chris. but of course, he is inextricable from all of it because of his support and his inspiration. right now, i am thinking that many of my posts will be book reviews, ruminations about the writing process and flaky, floaty, shallowly deep ideas that pop into my head but don't really fit into the Book. i hope those of you who still read this blog like the changes.
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