Louder Than Noise

The Awkward Stages of Growing Babies and Books

2012-01-20T08:45:00.000-08:00

I'm 17 weeks pregnant today, and in spite of my efforts to eat healthy and not exercise (but it's sooooo hard and sitting is so much fun!) I am bigger at this point than I have been in my previous pregnancies. It's that in-between stage where it's not quite clear if I am fat or pregnant. Also my clothes are too tight, but my maternity clothes are too big-so I can wear my barely buttoned (or not buttoned) jeans OR keep pulling my maternity pants up. And if I pick my daughter up and carry her, she has this way of wedging her ankle into the back of my maternity pants like a stirrup. Only my pants don't hold up as well as a stirrup.

Smooth-transition-into-talking-about-my-book-in-which-I-liken-writing-the-end-of-my-book-to-having-my-daughter-push-my-pants-down.

I've been less than 10,000 words away from the end of my pirate book for much too long. I even have the end completely plotted out, which is nothing like writing the end of my last book in which I just wrote it blindly and hoped it turned out okay. (It didn't.) However, there was the whole pregnancy sickness thing that pushed me back. Then Christmas. Then I started working on another book, a book I started awhile ago while I was still writing Pieces of Moon. I felt like the characters in my book were passing me by on their cruise ship waving at me to notice them. And I was ignoring them. Well, okay, I started noticing them again a couple of days ago. So we're back on board. (Back on board...heh heh...clever.)

I'm so close I can taste it. Can I finish before the end of January? I know I can. Plus, next month we are moving again. We've been living with my in-laws since the end of the summer, and I'm excited to get into our own house. It's been a good temporary living situation, but I've never appreciated the independence of running my own household until recently. Also, my in-law's house is too big for a two year-old, and my daughter keeps running away from me and getting lost. So I have to keep finding her. Hopefully I'll find her before we move.

My Sequel Soapbox

2012-01-12T12:03:00.001-08:00

I recently read a YA book which was just okay. However, I finished it because there were so many loose ends and I wanted to see how they were going to be all tied up. And they weren't. I have to wait a year for the sequel. But the thing is, I'm not going to read the sequel. I don't care enough about the story to immerse myself into the world again in a year.

The truth is, even if it is a book that is more than just okay, I still don't always read the sequel. I've found lately that I'm really not a sequel girl. In fact, I'm becoming a little annoyed with books with sequels because I feel like so many books should not have sequels...that the sequels just drag out a story that should be wrapped up in one book, not three. I've read sequels that are honestly a little painful because the story just seems too forced...like the author is dragging it out just to make it to the last book.

There are exceptions of course. Sometimes sequels work very well. And I think some multiple-book series work well, especially with children's books such as The Boxcar Children, where each book is a separate adventure almost independent of the other books in the series. I'm also a fan of companion novels where you can enter the world of the novel again, but each book completes its own story. A good example of this is Shannon Hale's Books of Bayern.

And as a writer, I like to wrap up my story in one book. I don't like to have loose ends. And when I finish the story...well, I think I'm done with it.

What are your feelings about sequels?

Look Who Else Is Coming To Town...

2011-12-26T16:27:00.001-08:00

So here is my big secret. By now it's more like 13 1/2 weeks. I'm due in June, and I went dark when I felt too sick to blog or write or eat or bathe. (Okay, eating was a challenge, but I did manage to bathe.) Thankfully, that's over and now I can enjoy the second trimester...after the sickness is gone but before I gain 50 to 55 pounds. (Not kidding, with both my son and daughter.) I've had two ultrasounds so far, and baby looks good. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

How to Lose All My Followers

2011-11-16T17:38:00.000-08:00

Well, I don't pride myself on a zillion followers, but I decided that if I'm going to wean myself down to those who are MOST loyal...I had better go on another blog break. For a few reasons. And so before blacking out during the holidays, I wanted to:

1) RECAP my Wake Up and Write Blogfest. A handful of my friends participated: Patti, Myrna, Jolene, Chantele, and Kelli. We kept each other updated and encouraged through a group email, and by the end of the week I thought the overall impression was..."I got a lot done, but this may not become a regular thing for me!" But it was fun. Maybe I'll do another blogfest again sometime.

2) AND rant about how all of those library books I checked out (and racked up a ginormous fine for) disappointed. (Maybe because I had that huge fine, and I was being punished?) I'm going through a period where hardly any book interests me, and then I'm reading just to read. Does that ever happen to you?

3) Good-bye. See you at Christmas. Or something.

Good Morning to You

2011-11-07T05:03:00.001-08:00

Today is the first day of Wake Up and Write. I didn't wake up early once last week. I was very lazy, and so this week is a perfect restart for me. Of course, I was a little worried about the whole Daylight Savings thing, and that my children's internal clocks would be confused. However, they are still asleep, and I managed to write an hour already this morning. 575 words.

I had a dream last night that one of my blog friends (who? I'm not telling) commented on my blog, that they are tired of hearing about my book. That it is BORING them. And to finish it up already! Maybe this happened because last night my husband asked me if I still plan on finishing my book by October 31st. (Ha. Ha.) But I know that I'm in the home stretch. Things are wrapping up in Pirate-land, and it makes me happy.

Now my son is awake, lying on the floor, preparing to rouse me with his morning whinage. There are five or six others who are participating in waking up early this week. Tell me? How did it go this morning???

Just a Blog Post

2011-11-01T11:00:00.000-07:00

To those interested in waking up an hour early with me the third week of November to write...I did finally figure out the whole linky list thing. So go here to sign up!

Nano is here! I've never played, and I just watch in amazement as those around me crunch out so many words in so short of time. Now, I DID do NaGroBaMo (National Grow a Baby Month) a couple years ago when I was 8 months pregnant with my daughter. But nobody else wanted to play. (Hmmm, poor sports. I mean, you just had to be PREGNANT at the time. Was that too much to ask?) As the only competitor, I came in first. Which I'm very proud of.

Now, where is the best place to hide all that Halloween candy from last night? Above the fridge? Under the bed? Has anybody ever successfully written 50,000 words in 30 days right around a major holiday?

Well then, you're amazing.

Now my pirate book: it's about 10 year-old Bonnie with her cruise ship captain daddy and her successful and not so successful attempts at convincing everyone that the ship's "guitarist" Henry Weston is actually a pirate after the ship's jewel exhibition (who may also be falling in love with her nanny and BFF, Aunt Mel, but that has nothing to do with the fact that she thinks he's a pirate because he wears a bandana and dreadlocks and limps for pirates sakes).

She is cruising the Baltic Sea in this book (which not coincidentally is the same trip I took a few years ago). Now, when she stopped in Denmark, the writing was just...okay. Rocky and smooth at times. But when she stopped in Germany my muse was happy, and words came with little effort. However, writing her last stop in Estonia was like building a stone wall with my teeth. But now she is out of Estonia and on her way to Russia. But I must say that the most difficult scenes to write are sometimes my favorite.

If I can get her through the rest of the Baltic in November while everyone else is NaNo-ing, I'll be happy.

The Old Guy in the White Shirt

2011-10-25T11:58:00.001-07:00

I am irresponsible with library books. I check out way too many. I don't limit myself. Or my kids. Mostly, I just like to surround myself with books, even if I don't read them. I actually find it comforting to have a big stack of shiny library books next to my bed. I know that I can't get to all of then...but, just knowing that they're there if I need them...okay, it's a problem. I admit it.

But that's not my only problem. Apparently I'm terrible at renewing these masses of books I check out. I thought I had a 9 dollar library fine. When I went to check out more books today, the librarian told me I had, in fact, a 16 dollar fine. I had actually returned several books to the outside library box earlier that day, but they hadn't gone through yet. She said she'd just renew them for me...and well, now I owe 22 dollars. I wasn't sure how that computed, and I was frustrated. It was my second time to the library that day because I didn't realize it didn't open up until noon on Tuesdays.

I was annoyed about the steep library fine, but I was ready to pay just so that we could check out the books we'd come for. Only...they don't accept debit, just cash or check. Which I didn't have. This interchange lasted a few minutes. My daughter kept running away from me. When I told my son we could not check out books today, he started to throw one of his awesome public fits. The library was not my happy place just then. And that old guy in the white shirt waiting patiently for me to finish so that he could talk to the librarian? Well, I was sure he wasn't happy with me just then.

Just before my son lost it, my daughter decided to jet to the other end of the library. I gathered her up, grabbed my wallet she had placed on a random book shelf, and returned to the front desk. The librarian told me that I now owed $2.90, and I could check out my books.

What? I just assumed she was tired of our conversation and lowered it for me. So I thanked her. She told me that I didn't have to thank her. Then it kind of all came together for me. "Did someone pay my fine for me?" She nodded yes. The only person I could think of was the old guy in the white shirt. "Was it him?" It was. He paid my library fine down, she said, because he felt bad that my kids wouldn't have their books.

I couldn't believe it. Some stranger. I'll never know who he was. He paid my fine while I went to catch my daughter, and then he left. So I determined two things just then: 1) I'd never have a library fine again and 2) One day, when I have a chance to pay it forward, I won't hesitate.

WAKE UP AND WRITE

2011-10-20T19:03:00.000-07:00

So, I mentioned my WAKE UP AND WRITE blogfest idea a couple days ago. (Wake up an hour early for one week to write.) A few of you were interested. And Candice is going to cheer us from the sidelines. Now to get this thing going. At first I considered next week....but that's much too fast.

Then after next week, there is November...which is also NaNo. But oh that first week in November! Halloween and up all night and children on sugar highs! Who wants to start a WAKE UP AND WRITE blogfest like that?

What about the second week of November? Some of us may be coming down from the very-beginning-of-NaNo high and need that extra boost. (I don't plan on doing NaNo. I'm not a NaNo person, just like some of you aren't morning people.) And it gives us a couple weeks between now...and then.

If I were really cool I'd do a link list and a button. But I'm not that cool. (Mostly because I don't know how.) (And because I don't think my link list would be very long.) (Maybe next time.)

Those of you interested, let me know if the second week of November works for you.

Update: Wake Up and Write Blogfest is the THIRD week of November (November 14 to 18), and I even figured out how to do a link list!

How is My Morning Experiment Going?

2011-10-19T04:55:00.000-07:00

If you recall, about three weeks ago I declared I was going to wake up before my children and write. So how is it going?

Week 1: I woke up 3 times before my kids that week. My muse would go right to work and write 800+ words in an hour. I wrote a lot. I finished outlining my book, and I was happy.

Week 2: My children, namely my daughter, met secretly and decided to start waking up earlier so that I could not write. I woke early a few times that week and tried to write, but I had company.

Week 3: I didn't wake up early last week. Mostly I was grumpy. Very little writing got done. Enough said.

Week 4: My children aren't waking up early anymore, and I've gotten up to write this week. My brain isn't quite as prolific as it was a few weeks ago (is it me or is it the scene?) but I really feel that this Waking Up Early business is how I'm going to make my writing work to for me.

When I declared my morning intentions, a couple of you mentioned the desire to do it yourselves. So I started thinking that maybe I could start a WAKE UP AND WRITE blogfest, setting aside one week to wake up an hour ahead of schedule to write. Sort of a jumpstart to NaNo. (By the way, for me this means going to bed one hour earlier. Otherwise, I'm a mess.)

It's not practical for everyone. Some of us just are not morning people. If everyone says, "not for me" that's okay, too. What do you think?

And one more thing! There is a first 20 pages critique giveaway over at Dear Editor. You have until tomorrow to enter.

The End of the World Might Look Like This

2011-10-11T20:00:00.000-07:00

The other day I decided to stop by a Borders. I figured I'd be at the tail-end of their going-out-of-business sale, and that I'd find quality books for 90 percent off. (Okay, that's me being sarcastic because we know the good ones get picked over early on, but still...they're books!)

However, I'd come too late. The parking lot was empty. The signs were down. The bookshelves were empty. I half-expected to see tumbleweed blow by. I was sad, not because I couldn't get my cheap books...but because no one was left. Once, people read there and bought the written word and felt it in their hands there. And that's all going away, leaving places like this Borders abandoned and forsaken.

I know, a little melodramatic. I mean, I want an e-reader. I'm excited about the possibilities of carrying a whole library in my purse. (If only I can digitize the diapers and wipes.) But for a moment I saw the post-apocalypse of the book world.

Um, now that I got that out...hello, $79 Kindle! Or Kindle Fire? I'm so fickle.

HSM 4

2011-10-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

High school musical auditions. My senior year. I sat among friends laughing, talking, and looking very much an upperclassman. Oh those poor insecure freshmen sitting alone...or perhaps with their one middle school friend they'd dragged along to the auditions.

I looked forward to my third year as a chorus member. (Dancing and I were enemies. Singing and I were barely friends.) Yes, another year in a chorus with friends that made me smile. With a director I always secretly laughed at because she thought she was a rock star. With boys who had nice voices which made them cute even if they weren't.

I had practiced a song of my choice: I'm in Love with A Wonderful Guy from South Pacific. It was fun and catchy. It didn't have any of those CRAZY high notes that made me look ridiculous.

I wasn't the first to audition. There were others that went before me including some of those poor, unfortunate freshmen. They were so scared, so unexperienced. Remembering my own freshman audition, I sent them sympathetic smiles.

I watched as yet one more freshman girl stood to deliver her performance. And then...

I expect everyone of my crowd to make fun

Of my proud protestations of faith in romance

She was singing my song! And she was REALLY good. What's a girl who's in love with a wonderful guy to do?! I couldn't very well scream, "No, you are not corny as Kansas in August! I am. I am as normal as blueberry pie. Not you!"

So instead I waited patiently. Then when it was my turn, I stood. I handed my music to the pianist, who probably thought she was experiencing de ja vu. I sang my song and when I got to the chorus I sang...nay, I belted...

I'm in love. I'm in love. I'm in love. I'm in love. I'm in love with a MORE wonderful guy.

Then we all laughed. I got a chorus role. Talented freshman girl got a leading role. And we lived happily ever after as all high school stories go.

The Book I'll Never Write (And How My Husband Ruined It)

2011-09-28T18:27:00.001-07:00

My husband and I are sitting next to each other right now, both of us on our laptops. "Husband," I just said. "Listen to this." I shared with him an idea I had written yesterday for a book I'll never write. But I liked the idea nonetheless, and I wanted him to say, "Yes, Wife. That is a good idea. You are so smart." He did not say this. He said, "Med malpractice is dead." Then he took my laptop from me and added the final paragraph.

Seven months ago, James watched a girl cry in her car. As he planted lilies on the corner of Madison and Rochester for his summer landscaping job, she pulled up to the light, and for her tears he handed her a lily through the open window.

Today James sits in a courtroom because his dad stands trial for malpractice. Seven months ago, his dad nicked a patient’s artery during surgery. And the patient died. That patient’s family sits opposite him now, and once again he is looking into the eyes of the man’s daughter—who’s eyes are dry, as is the lily that she wears pinned to her shirt.

The only person that was happy to be in the courtroom that day was the defense attorney. He was billing about $350 an hour. He had already put over 200 hours into the case and was about to add another 40 after this week.

I mean, if the first two paragraphs didn't hook you, that last one will. But one thing is for sure...he is not touching my real books.

My Morning Experiment

2011-09-26T11:14:00.000-07:00

Last week my family went to the Texas coast. The ocean was forever. The beach pristine. The weather perfect. And the best part? We had it almost entirely to ourselves. Whenever I return to the ocean, I remember how much I love it. Maybe it's not a coincidence that the sea plays a major role in both my books.

See how pretty? That's my husband and son in the water. My father-in-law is sitting in the beach chair reading. The little imp running toward the seagulls is my daughter. And there is my mother-in-law about to chase after her hat that has blown away.

Vacations always recharge me a little. I go back to real life with new ideas and new energy. This morning I woke up before my children to write. I have a really hard time finding time during the day to write. When I write, it's usually at night. And yet, that's still hard for me because I'm wrapping up my day then. Sometimes other things take priority. (Even though they aren't always necessarily more important.)

But in the morning? Nothing exists yet to clutter up my day. It's time I would otherwise spend sleeping. I wrote for over an hour this morning before Jummers tripped out of his room, fell on the floor, and commenced whining. And I got a lot done. I'm excited about this. I want to do it again. I shall call it...my morning experiment and see if I can't get this book finished once and for all.

You Are Such A....

2011-09-19T11:48:00.000-07:00

I try to teach Jummers not to say words like "poop" or "stupid." Of course, sometimes I say those things, but that's beside the point. Well, being the innovative kid that he is he made up a new word.

Wonky Face.

He will sometimes use that little number on me when he's upset. "You are such a wonky face!" Whereupon I respond, "Don't use that word." Well, it's his word. He made it up. And now it's forbidden. Talk about suppressing my son's creativity.

But what is a wonky face? I'd really like to know. He won't tell me.

Let's Have A Writing War!

2011-09-15T07:29:00.000-07:00

You know you've found a good writing friend when she calls you up on the phone and says, "I'll bring my computer over and we'll have a writing war."

So yesterday afternoon my friend who is Jessie but not me and who I will call "Jes" in my blog just to clarify that I'm not CRAZY and friending myself...came over with her kids and her laptop. However, a writing war did not ensue. I told her I was stuck in my pirate book, and she said, "Let's write in each other's books."

We caught up to speed on each other's books and switched laptops. And then for about 15 minutes when we weren't calming the screaming children, we wrote. And it was fun. It was completely stress-free because it was 100% and purely Just For Fun. Because we wouldn't keep it. It wasn't our own.

And the best part? I wasn't stuck anymore. She took my book to a place that helped me get past that block I'd come to. Plus we both made each other laugh, which is good when all around you is screaming. And more screaming.

Have you ever written in somebody else's book? Had somebody write in yours? You should try.

(And while I'm giving advice, I advise you not to go see Contagion on an IMAX screen. Because the germs are as big as your head. And it is not a coincidence that a few days later I came down with something. Although I studied Microbiology in college, I'm pretty sure there is a scientific explanation for this.)

Jummers and Little

2011-09-12T11:18:00.000-07:00

So there are times when I try to be unique and do things my own way. And there are other times that I know I must join in, and well...writing "my son" and "my daughter" is just not cutting it for me anymore. And so, from now on they will be called by their real-life nicknames (because I don't like putting real-life names out there, but if in the end I am ever published and I decide to dedicate a book to them, their real-life names will be out there anyway). So...

My son is Jummers, short for Jumbo, because when he was a baby he was HUGE. Like rolls of fat up and down his arms HUGE. Like he was from another species of human HUGE. He was always at the top of the charts, and at one point off of them. Now, five years later, he is mostly tall which my husband anticipates will lead to a successful and happy career in college basketball. Jummers loves Legos and playing with his cousins, and I think he might have more cousins than Legos. Sometimes he wants to type on my computer so he can write his book. Not sure where he ever got that idea...

My daughter is Little because genes are funny and gave me this petite, little thing that squeaks instead of talks and screams instead of argues. Gosh she's cute, and she just passed the 21-month mark. She also likes playing with her brother's Legos, and usually much screaming follows. She LOVES cereal, and is always getting into the cereal cupboard. And she always runs away from me when I tell her to "come here." Well, actually she's really naughty, but when you are squeaky and little you can get away with it.

I wish they stayed like this forever. Any tips on keeping my children from growing up?

Writers in Motion

2011-09-06T13:51:00.000-07:00

Thank you all my dear blogging friends for your loving words last week. This morning I took a walk with my kids. The intense south Texas heat has finally broken, and this morning just felt so invigorating and promising. I couldn't help but make plans and think of all things I wanted to accomplish and believe that I really COULD accomplish them.

A Really Smart Person wrote a blog post. I keep thinking of it not because he's my dad but because he's right. He relates a story of cutting a tree, and the force of the tree when it rebounded. (He left out the part in which my mom thought the tree was going to win.) He drew a metaphor that while directed at small business owners, I think can apply to everyone who hasn't reached their potential...especially to us as writers.

Trees are immobile and constant. They are docile, peaceful and harmless. They wave their leaves and branches in the wind as if to say, “Hey there. Hi. I’m here. I’m not leaving. Well, I am ‘leafing’ but I’m not leaving. I am staying here. I can’t move. See you around.”

We all become trees at some point in our life. With routine in our comfort zone, our roots run deep and our trunks become thick. We become immobile and constant; even docile, peaceful and harmless. We need to wave our arms occasionally so people know where we are. “Hi. I am here. I am not leaving. See you around.”

Give yourself motion. Make a move. Take a risk. Just do something. Anything. If you haven’t been mobile for a while, you will be stunned at the force you can create. At first it will be scary, but fear fades as you move into the moment. We fear things that might happen, not what is happening.

Stimulated, your mind will focus its power as you *visualize, plan, decide, sense, act, assess, respond. It will be awesome. It will make the bark stand on the back of your neck.

*insert-outline, draft, rewrite, edit

By the way, I was raised on metaphors. Maybe that's one reason I like to write. But isn't it true? We need motion. With motion, we'll surprise ourselves with what we can create.

Something Sad

2011-08-31T09:00:00.000-07:00

(Big Sigh. Here it goes.) I suppose when I prematurely announced my pregnancy on Facebook and my blog, I thought I was safe...because I had two babies come of my two previous pregnancies. However, just days after I posted I was going on a blogging break, I started to miscarry. It was my eleventh week.

It was hard. I've had friends and family who miscarried, and I was sorry for them. But when it happened to me, a new empathy developed. I had no idea. Nothing prepared me for the raw sorrow, the loss, and the pain -physical and emotional- that came with that experience. I suppose I figured a first trimester miscarriage would be mostly just...disappointing...because the attachment (at least for me) to the baby isn't nearly what it is in the second and third trimesters.

I was wrong. I felt empty. I felt like I lost somebody. I still feel empty, even though I've had awhile to recover. Even though I'm ready to try again. But with sorrow, comes joy, and I felt my heart turning to the two beautiful babies I do have. And to my husband. The sadness, the tears, are now bittersweet because I'm so grateful to the Lord for the family I've been blessed with. And I have faith that my family will grow.

Back to Blogging

2011-08-29T09:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I have to admit, I've peeked into the blogging world a couple of times during my end-of-summer sabbatical. But I told myself I wouldn't come back "officially" until my son started preschool. He started today. So here I officially am, and I REALLY MISSED IT.

When we moved to Texas, my blogging kind of WANED. (By the way, it was 111 degrees in Texas yesterday. The end of the world is coming.) Since I have blogged both TOO MUCH and too little in my short blogging history, I'm sure I'll now find the perfect balance. You know, that thing we all talk about but never actually really find.

The nice thing about blogging is that I can be away for a long, long time, but here you still are. And you still want to be my friend. I think. So now I'm going to go visit you...after I pick my son up from school. And feed the children. And put my daughter down for a nap. Ah, balance.

Toes

2011-07-22T07:38:00.000-07:00

This is one of those posts I say I won't be around for awhile, but I guess I haven't been around for awhile already. I'm hanging onto the blogging world by one toe, but I'm still here...sort of. Anyway, we are in the middle of moving AGAIN, but only across town instead of across three states. Not quite so stressful this time. However, the rest of my summer is full, but I plan to come back in the Fall and maybe hang on with two toes this time. Horrible analogy. I also hope to have the first draft of my pirate book written by then. See you then my bloggy people.

A Milestone

2011-07-10T05:55:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when I'm on vacation, my brain stops? Or is it because I'm pregnant? Anyway, I'm very boring right now. And lazy. However, my husband --back in Texas while I spend time with my family in Kansas-- has not been lazy. No, he has been shopping for something that will be very convenient with the addition of child #3.

THIS is how I feel right now, not only because we got rid of that awful car that burned through oil every few hundred miles, but because I am now a Minivan Mom:

(We have this monkey. My daughter loves it. Everybody else hates it.)

Tag I'm It

2011-06-20T15:34:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by Janet Johnson and Katie Dodge, and given awards by Carla Jansen. To be really difficult I am combining the answering-of-questions and stating-of-random-facts. This means my post will flow in a very sensical matter, much like my books.

Do you think you are hot?

It is 100 degrees in Texas right now. Yes.

I ate lamb for the first time on my birthday. I hated it. It tastes like a sweaty man smells.

Upload a picture you are using as wall paper right now.

It is a picture of my family. I stopped posting my kids online, but they are cute. Very cute. The picture of me is not so cute because I am thinking about how my son, although cute, is being very, very naughty.

I am pregnant. I want more naughty, naughty children. LOTS of them. (What? You think I should have put this little number into its own blog post?)

When was the last time you ate chicken?

I am making chicken RIGHT NOW. Cooking and blogging at the same time? I'll have you know that my chicken is not burnt...yet.

There is a fly in my kitchen right now (but not on my chicken), and it is driving me nuts, NUTS I TELL YOU.

The song(s) you listened to recently.

Those of you who know me already know that I am not a big music listener. However, I have been listening to a CD mix of Enya, Coldplay, and Lord of the Rings when I drive. If my kids scream, I turn it up and they stop. It's magic.

I recently started watching Lost on Netflix. I'd never seen a single episode before this weekend. Why oh why did I start it?

What are you thinking while you are doing this?

I'm thinking of all the things I have to do before we leave for Kansas on Wednesday. I'll be there for three weeks visiting my family. We are very excited. (I mean, it's KANSAS for goodness sakes. Who wouldn't be excited?)

I have this crazy, irrational fear of a plane falling from the sky and landing on my house.

Do you have nicknames? What are they?

My parents called me "Honey Buns" when I was little. This began when I'd look them in the eye, prior to a spanking, and say..."You aren't going to spank me, Honey Buns?" My friends called me Sunshine in high school. No nickname now, unless MOMMMMMM counts.

It's time for dinner: chicken with a balsamic, mushroom cream sauce and proscuitto-wrapped asparagus. I am very unpredictable. Last week it was English Muffins and sausage.

(If you are reading my blog I tag you and award you all sorts of wonderful things.)

(Also, if you want to know a fertility secret, read Patti's blog post today.)

The Book that Made Me Weep

2011-06-14T15:16:00.001-07:00

I'm a big fan of historical fiction. I would love to write historical...but I know I'm not ready for the time I'd have to put into the research. Not yet. One day. (It takes me long enough to write a book with just minimal check-my-facts research.)

I've read a couple other books by Margaret Peterson Haddix. While most of her books have a supernatural bent, Uprising is about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire in New York City on March 25, 1911. It is told from the perspective of three very different girls--friends--one a society girl and two who are immigrants from Russia and Italy. From the beginning you know that only one survives the fire, although you don't know which one. The story is beautiful. The characters are very real, bringing to life the real-life victims of the fire one hundred years ago.

I hadn't heard about the fire until I read this book, but did you know that it was the biggest workplace disaster to happen in NYC before 9-11? Fire standards in the workplace were changed as a result of this tragedy, and it played a big role in the suffrage movement. (There was a huge strike the year before the fire, which the girls of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory participated in and which many wealthy suffrage supporters funded. In fact, the strike takes up a large portion of the book's story.) So it has a pretty incredible part in history.

When I read the end, I cried. Then the next day when I was driving I might have cried some more. They didn't have to die in that fire. Doors were locked. There was an inadequate number of fire escapes because the rich people in that district didn't like the look of them. The fire hose didn't work. The firemen's ladders didn't reach high enough. Their nets weren't strong enough to catch the falling bodies.

I highly recommend this book. I loved it. In fact, I can say this about very few books...but it changed me.

In Which I Touch On Austen

2011-06-07T18:52:00.001-07:00

I have the first sixty pages of my MG Pirate book written and the end pretty well out-lined. But the middle...well...I have a bunch of ideas and ghost of ideas stewing in my Middle Soup, but no order or flesh to them.

But I'm not here to talk about pirates or ten year-old girls who wear war paint (really, sparkly lip gloss) to scare away the pirates that must be RIGHT outside her bedroom door and who are SURELY looking at her since her door is always open a crack because ever since she was little she was afraid if she shut the door all the way her bedroom would fall off the ship into the ocean. No, I'm not talking about that.

I'm here to talk about Jane Austen. Last night I (re)watched Northanger Abbey-not the 1987 Northanger Abbey where they get into hot, yucky, infected public baths fully clothed but the 2007 one with the perfect garden kiss at the end and the perfect post-horseride-removal-of-mud-from-her-face-by-her-true-love scene. That one.

Although I do like it, I won't claim it as my favorite Jane Austen book or movie (in spite of the 2007 Henry and Catherine chemistry mentioned above). And I think I'm not alone. What is it about Northanger Abbey that makes it the lesser loved of the Austen classics.

Is it the weak and silly Catherine Morland? (although she does change)
Or is it the slightly overbearing Henry Tilney who will probably always see his wife as weak and silly? (even though she DOES change)
Or is it all those references to books we've never read that have long since fell off anyone's TBR list? (although I'm curious about Udolpho)
Is it the flirtation with the paranormal that just seems so out of place in Austen?

Well? Of course, maybe Northanger Abbey is your favorite Austen. Or maybe you don't even read Austen and have no clue. (Shame on you!) Or maybe you just want to talk more about girls who live on ships and eat brownie sundaes every day and brush shoulders with Russian royalty while trying to catch a pirate.

Copy Cat, This and That

2011-06-01T08:53:00.000-07:00

On a completely unoriginal note and because I haven't posted since last Monday, I am going to copy Candice who copied Jenn and post something from my WIP. (This is from my middle-grade A Pretty Pirate Pickle, not Pieces of Moon, which is why my MC sounds like she's ten. She is.)

Bonnie, daughter of the cruise ship's captain, is spying on the new passengers with her aunt. And she is SURE the roguishly handsome musician is a pirate, ready to infiltrate the ship.

Aunt Mel grabs my arms, lifts them, and spins me around. “Okay, where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“That pirate book you're reading. Let me have it.”
“Why does it matter?”
She pinches her lips. “Oh, let’s see…” She counts off on her fingers. “Last year, after you read Anne of Green Gables, you named all the flowers in my suite.”
I scowl at my aunt. “Yes, but I only told you that because you are my bosom friend. And you never should have killed Darrin.”
“He was a daisy.” She doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Then over Christmas, after you read the Chronicles of Narnia, you tried to look in every closet on the ship.”
"They were wardrobes, not closets." I shrug. “Besides, I've never had tea with a faun.”
“After you read Harry Potter, you were sure your parents weren’t your real parents.”
“But at least I didn’t claim to have magical powers.” I don’t mention the part where I stood in my room for an hour with a wand (plucked from an oak tree in Denmark) trying to cast spells. In fact, I used quite a bit of self-control. I never even touched the kitchen broom.

A Tale of Two Blogs

2011-05-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

So the problem with blogging on two blogs is that when I have an idea, which happens about once a week, I blog about it on my other blog. You know, the one where people count on me to post every Monday. Of course, I could say something like: If you want to read about my son's angry rant this weekend, you can read it here.

However, I won't. Wait, I just did. Oh well.

Instead, I will write about boys. You would think that being out of the dating arena, it's about the farthest thing from my mind. However, my sister is visiting me right now. And she's beautiful. And she's smart. And she's single. And we talk about her dating life...so today, I don't like boys. I don't heart them. At all. Fie upon you, boys. Fie. Fie. And that is it.

(Well that just sounded like my own angry rant. Like mother, like son.)

I Do Not Like Them Sam I Am

2011-05-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

As you can probably tell by the title, this post is about a book deal, a contest, and a good cause. (Well, it's obvious, isn't it?)

First in line (and I know I'm a little late to the announcing game)...Kasie West, one of my first blogger friends and the best nemesis a girl can have, has a two-book deal with HarperTeen!!! She signed with her agent, Michelle Wolfson, only three months ago and already has a book deal. And with HarperTeen!!! (But I think I already mentioned that.)

Also, the MMW Totally Cliche Contest is winding to a close. You still have until May 31 to submit your Totally Cliche short story for our e-book anthology. You can find more details, such as prizes!, by clicking the button on my sidebar.

AND...to close on a sad but hopeful note: MMW and author Cheri Chesley is donating all her royalties made on her e-books (Peasant Queen, Wild Queen, and Ghost Bride) through August 31 to a friend recently diagnosed with cancer. I am very excited to read Peasant Queen, and what better motive than to help someone out? See here for more details.

Have great weekend :)

Somebody Interviewed Me! And I Have A New Laptop!

2011-05-12T06:36:00.000-07:00

Every Thursday Chantele Sedgwick interviews aspiring authors. I love that--because most of us are aspiring and at a very similar place in this journey! So, today I am the aspiring author. I'm also a prespiring author because it's HOT in Texas. (That may or may not have been a good joke. I haven't decided yet.)

And since my title left no secrets, my husband came home yesterday with an early birthday present! I feel complete again.

Next day's update: Well, many of you were affected by Thursday's blogger malfunction. Blogger ate this post and then reposted it WITHOUT the comments. Which is a shame because comments are the best part. What is even SADDER is my interview was eaten, but I promise I didn't make it up. No, really. Somebody really did think I was important. Really.

Why You Shouldn't Blog on a Widescreen

2011-04-28T19:28:00.000-07:00

Because everybody looks HUGE. My regular computer monitor isn't working, and lately I've been using our TV instead. Now everyone I know, including myself, is a little stretched out, a little wide in the face. When I finally get a new laptop (the last two died due to my really bad luck with laptops which is why I'm buying another)(makes sense)...when I FINALLY get a new laptop everyone will look much healthier.

Which leads me to my post. Actually, I'm a little bit of a cheater because I'm spinning off Natalie's post on blogging today. I liked her Truth #3, in which she discusses the authenticity of our bloggy selves.

How much are we really like the person we portray on our blog (stretched out or not)?

I like to think that I'm pretty sincere and authentic. But...sometimes I delete. And sometimes I add something. And sometimes I sit there and stare at the screen and think about what I want to add. (And sometimes I sit there and stare at the screen and think of nothing at all.) (Can you imagine a conversation along these lines. "Please don't be creeped out by my staring, but I'm thinking of a witty response and these things just take time.")

Spontaneity is part of being sincere and authentic. And face it, we are all writers. As much as we'd like to say we are spontaneous in our blogging, don't most of us read through our post at least once before publishing? Spontaneity is something we get only in real life. Some of us have been blessed to meet one another in real life, but I know that my real life self is different. While Natalie claimed to be a little shyer, I'm actually the opposite. Maybe a little too much personality. My dad once described me as verbally vomiting on people. (For the record, I love love love my dad. He can tell me things like 'you verbally vomit on people' and I can laugh because he is right.) (The last time he told me this was in college ten years ago. I'm a little better now.) (He totally coined the phrase before Mean Girls.)

What about our profile pics? I'll be the first to say that I put up my best. You know, the one that catches you at your best angle with your best smile? Actually, the above picture is three years old. I look much more tired now and have wrinkles around my eyes. (You remember the part in (the newest) Freaky Friday where Jamie Lee Curtis looks in the mirror and says, "I look like the Crypt Keeper!" Yes, well...that.)

On the OTHER HAND, I share things on this blog about my writing that I don't share with those closest to me. Because they don't get it (and that's okay) but we do. We get the exhileration over A New Idea. We get the constant struggle to balance creating make-believe lives with our Real Life. We get the giddiness of finding that YA book at the library you've been waiting and waiting for and then staying up late reading it. (My husband doesn't get the whole reading YA fiction, but to this I say...Sweaty men running up and down a room full of thousands of people and bouncing a ball???) (However, my husband does support me in writing more than any real life person, next to my mom.)

So my point is, perhaps I am not my complete self. But you have part of me that nobody else has.

Bloggingly yours forever,

ME

A Pretty Pirate Pickle

2011-04-20T21:04:00.000-07:00

A new middle-grade idea. 6500 words in 4 nights (but not 4 nights in a row because I'm not that awesome). First drafting always gives me a little bit of a high because who cares about mistakes?

Okay, so I needed another break from that book. This idea has been sitting with me for awhile, and it suddenly exploded. It's been fun, though, because I'm writing in the voice of a ten year-old which is much different than writing as sixteen year-old Tess. It's also a challenge because I think at any given point I sound like I'm eight instead of ten. Or thirty instead of ten.

But I love it. However, what am I thinking writing middle-grade? I write YA, YA I tell you!

Anyway, I give you the first paragraph of A Pretty Pirate Pickle (the first paragraph for now) (because we all know how much that beginning changes)...

I have one of the best jobs on the cruise ship—every morning at sunrise I stand starboard and check for icebergs. I know the damage these killer popsicles can cause because I read about the R.M.S. Titanic last year. It’s not that I’m afraid of drowning—because I’m not. I’ve run the emergency drills since I was four. I know exactly which deck to meet at and seven ways to get there. I even know which seat is mine on the lifeboat. No, it’s just that I’ve also read that the Captain goes down with the ship, and I don’t want to lose my daddy.

LDS Writer Blogfest:Establishing a Christ-Centered Home

2011-04-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

I don't often share my faith on this blog. Maybe because it's so intensely personal, but perhaps more so I'm afraid of turning people away. Which is silly. After all, Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf said at this last General Conference, "we have a glad message to share, and we have a message of joy." Why not share my message of joy?

I was very glad when Krista Van Dolzer organized the second annual LDS (aka Mormon) Writer Blogfest. This year everybody participating (see link list below) is sharing their favorite General Conference talk. Twice a year the leaders of our church address us for two days: a beautiful two days when members of the church can gather in the Conference Center in Salt Lake City and listen to counsel and feel the Spirit. An uplifting, happy, renewing two days when all 14 million members of our church worldwide can watch the same conference by live broadcast. (In my case, in my own living room. Thank you BYUTV.)

The conference talk I've chosen was given by Elder Richard J. Maynes regarding Establishing a Christ-Centered Home. Now, if I was to discuss his entire talk, this would be a very long blog post. So I'll narrow my focus just a bit.

One thing, among many, I love about this gospel: a forever family! We believe marriage is forever, not just in this life. When I looked into my husband's eyes in the temple and agreed to marry him (and he to me!) we were agreeing to eternity. We believe that when we die and return to our Father in Heaven, we will still be married and we will still call our children our own. This family relationship is infinite, and our entire lives and beings are focused on returning to our Father in Heaven someday so that we can be together forever.

And that starts at home. It starts with teaching our children about Jesus Christ. Elder Maynes said, "Learning, teaching, and practicing the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ in our homes helps create a culture where the Spirit can dwell."

A pretty straight forward formula for a Christ-centered home seems to be reading the scriptures and praying together. Also, in our church, families set aside Monday evenings for "Family Home Evening," an evening the family gathers for a lesson, song, prayer, and activity. Right now, our Family Home Evenings are brief because our four year-old is well...four years-old. Last night, for instance, we talked about the Resurrection of the Savior, and how we can return to live with our Heavenly Father, that our bodies will also be re-united with our spirits one day because of what He did.

We try to read scriptures with our son every day. And pray with him every day. And TALK about Jesus every day. However, lest you be confused, I'm not perfect. In fact, I am the perfect example of an imperfect person. Some days it's late and by the time my son is lying in bed in the same room as his slumbering sister, I say, "Hmmm, a bedtime prayer might wake her up." And sometimes I forget who gave me life and who gave me the possibility of forever...and who gave me everything beautiful in this world. And sometimes I forget to tell my son. But I try, and I hope it's enough that he remembers. I want him to grow up with the knowledge that his parents loved their Father in Heaven, loved Jesus Christ (and were infinitely grateful for His Atonement), loved him (our son!) and his baby sister and each other, and that we are looking forward to forever with all of the above.

Annette Lyon: “Desire”
Annie Cechini: “The Spirit of Revelation”
Ben Spendlove: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Chantele Sedgwick: “LDS Women Are Incredible!”
Charity Bradford: “LDS Women Are Incredible!”
Jackee Alston: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Jenilyn Tolley: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Jennifer McFadden: “Establishing a Christ-Centered Home”
Jolene Perry: “It’s Conference Once Again”
Jordan McCollum: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Kasey Tross: “Guided by the Holy Spirit”
Kayeleen Hamblin: “Become as a Little Child”
Kelly Bryson: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Krista Van Dolzer: “Opportunities to Do Good”
Melanie Stanford: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Michelle Merrill: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Myrna Foster: “Opportunities to Do Good”
Nisa Swineford: “Desire”
Sallee Mathews: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Sierra Gardner: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Tamara Hart Heiner: “Waiting on the Road to Damascus”
The Writing Lair: “Waiting on the Road to Damascus”

Totally Cliche Contest!

2011-04-08T10:42:00.000-07:00

Over at MMW (Mormon Mommy Writers) we are holding a contest, which ALL may enter. Starting this week through May 31, we are accepting short story submissions in which you MUST use some kind of writerly taboo. The prizes will be a mix of free ebooks and Amazon giftcards. Plus, we are running a mini-contest to spread the word. In the end, the three winners (plus more) will be published in an ebook we put together.

These are the small details. For more details, you can click on the button in the sidebar. Have a good weekend!

The Other Jessie

2011-04-05T19:48:00.001-07:00

No, this is not a post about the many sides of myself. This is, in fact, about The Other Jessie.

Many years ago (or eight, but I'm not counting) while in college, I lived next door to two funny sisters: Sarah and Jessie. I'd go over to their place whenever I wanted to laugh which may have also been every day. We had fun. We made jokes. We talked about cute boys. I ate their food.

However, we all married (and had our bridal showers within just months of each other), life happened, and we lost touch until we found each other again on Facebook. (Well, I lost touch with them and they with me, but being sisters, I think they managed not to lose touch with each other.)

When I announced my BIG MOVE on Facebook, Jessie wrote..."You know that's where I live, right?" This was very good news for me because I had a new-old friend in a strange city, and happily our children were the same ages.

Before we got together for the first time, I thought, "Jessie is so funny and so smart. She should write. I'm going to tell her that." I never did get to tell her that. When we met and marvelled that we are still both Jessie and caught up on the last seven years, I found out that she got her Masters Degree-in Creative Writing.

Not only that, but she is also writing a Young Adult novel.

Amazing coincidence? Now we meet every week, and while our children scream (and sometimes my son melts down), we read each other's pages. And Jessie (he-hem, the Other Jessie) is very good at making my book better. Lately I've been writing more because there is something about having the pressure of giving pages to a real person by next Tuesday.

Here is The Other Jessie. You should meet her.

If Cows Were Clouds

2011-03-30T19:17:00.000-07:00

I believe I have a very discerning son. For example, the other day I turned on music and began dancing around the kitchen. He asked me to stop. And the thing is, I can't dance. I'm horrible. So his taste is pretty spot on. (But maybe I really just scared him.)

Recently my husband asked me about my picture book (said it was really good), and whatever happened to that? Then my son, my very discerning son, started quoting the text from my picture book. And well, my husband's words alone were very encouraging, but the fact that my son liked my book enough to remember the words fueled the flame.

So I told my husband that I wouldn't stop until I queried 25 agents. I'd only queried five since I wrote it (received three no-replies, one form rejection, and one nice rejection that liked the book and invited me to query my YA book when I was ready). Five, that's it. (And this is since September.) So I started querying again.

I haven't shared much about my book other than that I wrote it, so here is my wee-little pitch...

IF COWS WERE CLOUDS
Pudding instead of rain? Cheese instead of snow? Just what would happen if cows started grazing in our atmosphere? (Warning: This book is not for the lactose intolerant.)

By the way, I haven't been much of a blogger lately (that goes for visiting blogs, too) so if you are reading this you are a good friend. On the flip side I have been writing more. For many reasons. One which I will share with you soon.

Mothering Madness

2011-03-16T20:51:00.000-07:00

When we moved into our last place, I noticed a rag slung over my neighbor's fence, primarily because whenever I went to do my dishes I'd have nothing to look at through the window but my neighbor's fabulous above-ground-pool and the rag. ("Fabulous" is me being sarcastic because above-ground-pools are not fabulous. They are ugly. Unless you are sitting in one on a hot summer's day. Then I suppose it may feel a little fabulous.) I lived in that house for eighteen months. The rag was never moved, but it was beaten by one of the worst Kansas winters I've ever known and bleached by the sun in an equally intense summer.

I've thought of that little rag these last two weeks because I am that rag. Motherhood has rung me out, hung me out to dry, and blasted me with all its extreme elements. My son did beautifully during the first month of our move, but I suppose something clicked and he realized that...

This isn't a vacation! This is FOR REAL!!

And well...hmmmm. My naughty, naughty little boy. There were times I was sure that one of us was insane. And of course, I questioned all I ever knew or learned about mothering because suddenly I was clueless. I spent a lot of time on the phone with my mother who is wise, and I wish I can take the mothering parts of her brain because her kids are grown and she's not really using those parts right now. It's only fair.

However, whenever I'd put my son to sleep (and then he'd get up and then he'd get up again and maybe he'd get up a third or fourth or fifth time) the FIRST thing I wanted to do was lose myself in my own little Pieces of Moon world. All this stress really fueled my desire to write. (It also fueled my desire for chocolate chip cookie dough.) I've been writing again, more than before, and really, really enjoying it. So I suppose there is a silver lining, but I'd prefer something other than mothering madness to get me there.

The storm may be over now. The last couple of days I've watched it blow off with only a little residual lightning. My son is doing much better. For example, he is no longer waking up and yelling, "Mommy won't look at my face!" (That from my attempt of ignoring naughty behavior the day before.) (Isn't that sad? After he did that, I lay down next to him and looked at his face.) And the best part is...my mom flies in tomorrow morning. Enough said.

In an Eggshell

2011-03-06T20:24:00.000-08:00

The other day as I was doing my laundry, I heard a sound that you should never hear inside your house. I heard a creature. Inside my dryer hose. My first thought was, "Mice! My life is over. We are moving BACK to Kansas." (There are mice in Kansas, but who things rationally when a creature is heard inside of one's dryer hose?)

When I calmed down, I went outside and looked up toward my second-floor laundry room. (The whole looking up thing should have been my first clue it wasn't a mouse since mice can't fly. I don't think.) There was a twig sticking out of my dryer vent. Birds are not nearly disturbing as mice and so I was at peace.

That night, my husband and I (with a very interested little boy standing by) unhooked the dryer hose and pulled out a nest. (And a lot of combustible lint backed up behind it, so we are lucky our bird didn't smoke.) I also pulled out one little speckled egg. I even did the flashlight test on the one little speckled egg and found...nothing.(Of course this meant I had no pressure to incubate the egg and raise the hatchling on ground worms. Phew.)

It made me think of writing...

Well, not really. I have no metaphor. I just wanted to share my bird-nest-in-a-dryer story because I think it's cool.

Oh Mo!

2011-02-25T19:46:00.001-08:00

I love Mo Willems. When I visited the library* yesterday, I picked up a few of his books. My son and I have already read the first two Knuffle Bunny books, (and are waiting eagerly to read the last installment.) I hadn't yet introduced him to the Pigeon, however, so we picked up Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! and The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog. If you haven't read these then do! He is such a good example of using very few words to say so much. And his illustrations are hilarious. My son laughed so hard, and even carried the books with him downstairs. (Meaning, the Pigeon was too good to leave usptairs.)

But as I discovered tonight, the Pigeon is setting a very bad example for my son. It all began with an attempt to put off bedtime.

He asked for a snack.

NO

"But I want CARROTS!" (Totally a diversionary tactic. Would he eat the carrots? No, he would not. He'd look at his carrots while reveling in the joy of staying up late.)

NO

Then he said, "Please, I'll give you five dollars."

This is an almost direct quote from the Pigeon (who says "bucks" instead of "dollars.") I've also heard him quote Pigeon a few other times today, although completely out of context.

The Pigeon is teaching my son the art of manipulation. Bad, bad Pigeon.

But I'll still read them. Over and over again.

*Good news. I found a better library branch in my new city, better than the last one I checked out! (But not as good as The Perfect Library back in Kansas.) But a definite improvement!

Bead by Bead

2011-02-16T20:19:00.000-08:00

My son loves art projects. Usually I just keep an art drawer full of pipe cleaners, pom poms, markers, paper and glue and he just...creates. Well, I had this brilliant idea to buy melty beads. You know-those tiny little beads you place on peg boards, then iron so the design melts together. Why I thought it might be a good idea for a four year-old, I'm not sure. It tested my patience as a thirty year-old because as you place each new bead, the bead you just placed sticks to your fingers and falls off.

Somehow, we both managed to fall into a groove after much trial and error. We were working side-by-side, each beading our own board, wrapped in our creative silence. Then BAM! (Did I really believe it would last?) "It's keep falling off. IT'S KEEP FALLING OFF." So he SWIPED his hand across the table and all those beads went skittering everywhere. In a patient mother voice (which was not the voice I used when he kept dropping boogars on my bed during naptime) I told him to just try it agin. "Sometimes we have to be patient and just do it again."

My thoughts immediately turned to my manuscript because for the last few days I've been toying with the idea of ditching it, starting something new from scratch. New state, new home, new friends, new book...right? What I really find intimidating about my book is that the more I write, the more I discover how much writing and rewriting is left to do. (Insert above advice to my son.) My book has been like that fatal iceberg. It seemed a modest and fun task from far away, but the closer I get I realize what a monster lurks below the surface and it's threatening to sink my ship. (Those of you who can't tolerate cheesy metaphors are excused.)

The irony is I was considering starting a new book from scratch, as if that book would somehow be different. My husband finally convinced me to stay with it when I read some of my (latest) beginning to him. He told me I should spend more time writing. (WHAT TIME?...This is another blog post.) Anyway, I appreciated the vote of confidence. Now I'm going to go gather up my beads and keep moving forward. ("Moving forward" meaning I also need to stop rewriting my beginning and FINISH the rewrite once and for all.)

U R Cute

2011-02-14T06:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, my title has nothing to do with this post, but the best thing about Valentine's Day is the candy hearts.

I wanted to let you know that starting today I am the new Monday girl on Mormon Mommy Writers. (For which you don't have to be a Mormon or a Mommy or a Writer to read, but if you are reading this blog, you can probably claim at least one of these.)

Now, after last week's post I must set the record straight that although I miss Kansas, I LIKE TEXAS. The library aside, it's a great place to be. It's warm. People are nice. There is good food to eat. Plus, although we left family behind, we more than doubled the family here.

Also, I must note that I did a facebook poll among my friends and family. Most claim that their husbands iron their own shirts. However, as it is Valentine's Day I might just pull out the ironing board.

Another Will NEVER Measure Up

2011-02-09T19:57:00.000-08:00

We are now settled in our new place, and my life is steadily becoming normal again. I really, really like normal. I've already ventured into this strange city alone, navigating unfamiliar streets to visit the library for which I had such high expectations.

See, I was blessed with an amazing library the last few years. Or maybe just cursed because I will NEVER find another to measure up. This new library, for instance, was much too small and crowded, people sitting elbow-to-elbow around tables to read. I saw not one cozy nook to curl up in. (Not that I could curl if I wanted to since I had two small children.) My old library had couches around a fireplace with an occasional semi-authentic (gas-lit) fire.

And the YA section - it seemed wanting. For such a small library, I had a hard time spotting it. After inquiring I found its one shelf in the back corner, a few chairs crammed between it and the wall. The YA section at my old library covered a MUCH larger area. With computers and cozy seats, it invited teens to stay awhile. And I really liked all the new releases on one wall, covers out.

But what is MOST important to me in a library and my main excuse to frequent it often is...the CHILDREN'S section. MY OLD LIBRARY had the perfect children's section with trains and legos and a big reading bear to sit on that eventually died, or ripped, or maybe got lice. There were so many events for the children and the best storytime you'll EVER attend with sitting mats, dancing, and surprises. We had a Miss Vicky, among other great children's librarians, who knew my son's name from day one. This children's section just didn't compare.

Oh and one more thing, before I left Kansas...a librarian at my old and perfect library asked me how my writing was coming along. I don't even remember telling her. But she remembered. Now I am going to go wallow in self-pity.

(Did I mention my old library had no late fees?)

What do you look for in a library? (Besides you know...books.) And my husband would like to know if anybody else's husbands iron their own shirts for work. This is very important.

Honorable Mention!!

2011-02-01T18:30:00.000-08:00

This is the first chance I've had to sit down and post a "Woo-eee!!! I got an honorable mention in Nathan Bransford's first paragraph contest!" Actually, I'm a little more excited that Nathan Bransford actually sat down and typed my name in a blog post (among others, but still...)

Anyway, thank you to those that congratulated me already. It is the perfect news to a crazy week. We made it out of Kansas. In fact, the cold chased us out a day early, and somehow managed to follow us to Texas. Really, my in-laws blame me for this insanely cold Texas weather. Now we are waiting for the movers, but while we wait a variety of viruses decided to attack each member of my family. See what I mean by crazy? Yes, this contest news was quite the ray of sunshine.

Head on over to Nathan's blog and vote for your favorite finalist! And I'll be back when life is healthy and normal again. :)

Word Hoarders

2011-01-19T09:33:00.000-08:00

As I take down and parcel my household, my manuscript is receiving a similar treatment. I found a giant credibility hole in the first few pages of my manuscript, and I am rewriting (yet again) my entire first chapter. (Not the best remedy for MOVING FORWARD with my manuscript, but there it is.) (Actually, I think my first page had enough because it is now unexplicably in a read-only mode.)

I think that writers are a lot like hoarders. Last week a mover told us of a household he'd moved in which it had taken an hour to inventory the family room, a family room that included two rusted-out refrigerators. And I have to wonder what this person's emotional attachment was to these refrigerators. But aren't we the same with our words? Our words will collect, go to files we may never open again until they are attacked by literary rust...but can we really let them go?

Well, I can't because I know how much time I spent on those words. However, I'd have to say that taking time off from my manuscript (which I did and somehow decided to start writing again in the middle of this crazy move) has made it easier to cut scenes. But not permanently. They still exist, piles of words stacked in my harddrive, cluttering corners and covered in dust.

What about you? Do you hoard words?

Don't You Dare...

2011-01-12T18:28:00.000-08:00

I am purging my house of junk before my move. That's my goal anyway. My problem is, I start going through my "junk" and suddenly minutes turn into hours and hours turn into a whole evening of me looking through old files and pictures and letters and journals. I've been in a college time-warp the last few days. I am not even going to break open the Pandora's Box that is high-school me. (Actually, there are two "Pandora's Boxes" that look more like giant storage bins.) I would be trapped for days revisiting teenage me...and I'm not ready for that journey of emotional ups and downs. Maybe I'll look again when I want to write a book for teenagers or something. Wait a second....

I found a folder of creative writing from the one creative writing class I took my freshman year at BYU. (For those of you who are somewhat new to my blog, I put aside my writing pursuits and became a registered nurse instead. Now I want to be a writer. Go figure.) And I had to laugh, really laugh, at my writing it all its awfulness. But it was sincere. Really, really sincere. And I wanted to squeeze twelve years-ago me and say, "Keep going! You'll get there!" (Am I "there" yet? No.) I loved all the comments from my creative writing professors because they were SPOT ON. And I remember now reading those comments then and not really getting it. In fact, I remember taking it kind of personally and thinking that they didn't really get what I was trying to say. (So, I guess that's why I turned to nursing. It wasn't personal. I wasn't ready to write.)

And tucked in that folder was an equally awful creative writing piece I wrote for a religion class. And you know what? I didn't have to find that piece to remember what my religion professor (not a writing professor (but a very brilliant man)) wrote. He complimented my writing, and it's stuck with me for twelve years. And sometimes it keeps me going.

Don't you dare do anything else with your life but write!

So spot on or not, I didn't remember much from my creative writing class, but I always remembered that this august scholar of scripture liked my writing.

Good-bye 2010, Hello Texas

2011-01-05T18:30:00.000-08:00

I've been absent from blogging for a ridiculously long time, but other than the holidays I've been busy with the news that we are moving to Texas in February. Our recent Christmas mecca down south was spent hunting for a place to live rather than actual vacationing. So, I have one little month to pack up my life in boxes. It's kind of overwhelming.

I am excited...but also sad. When I walked into my house after two days in the car with small children, the sweet relief of being home was tempered by the fact that it would only be mine for thirty more days. And Kansas... Who would think anyone would be nostalgic for Kansas of all places? But I grew up here. My family is here and so are my roots. I mean, there are graveyards in Kansas with my ancestors. Kansas is a part of me.

And Texas is a part of my husband. But we aren't moving because Texas constitutes one-third of my husband's blood. (I constitute another third, while the final third is a mixture of basketball and actual blood.) We are moving because of my husband's job. (Yes, I failed to produce that NYT bestseller I set out to write two years ago. Dang it. It could have really come in handy in pleading the case for Kansas.)

So while I'm determined not to be gone for another three weeks (I missed you guys, really), I may be more sporadic than usual. Then again, blogging may be one of my few links to sanity when everything else around me falls apart (and then is neatly packed away and labeled)(until I get to the eleventh hour in which things will just be hurled into whichever box is closest).

Yes, Virginia

2010-12-15T17:55:00.000-08:00

I try not to confuse my child too much. However, he asks questions like, "How do the witches in Shrek fly?" and I tell him, "Magic, but don't worry there is no such thing as witches or magic." Then he asks how Santa Clause flies and I say, "Magic." That might be very confusing to a four year-old brain.

I'd really like to keep this Santa Clause thing going for as long as possible. I explained to my son that there is good and happy magic...Christmas magic, and then there is scary magic. There is no such thing as scary magic. There is such thing as Christmas magic.

(I did give him a very practical answer when he asked how Santa Clause puts out fires when he goes down the chimney, and how he turns the fire back on. In case you want to know, Santa pours water down the chimney when he arrives, and throws a match down the chimney when he leaves. He doesn't even need magic, just a lot of matches.)

I believed in Santa Clause until I was about ten or eleven. My family was driving home from my grandparents' house, and all my siblings were sleeping except for me. I, of course, was reading. Yes, it was a book that thrust the truth upon me whether I wanted to know or not. (I can't remember which book it was now, but I'm sure it was evil and wanted to shatter all the dreams of ten and eleven year-old girls.) I turned to my mom and asked her the question, and she confirmed that they had been making up stories about the fat man in the red suit. (I think the truth about the Easter Bunny came soon after that.)

So how did you find out the truth about Santa Clause??

Vomit on the Brain

2010-12-08T18:18:00.001-08:00

Following a week of ear infections and vomit, and thereby little sleep, my brain is feeling somewhat zombified. And since I have nothing original to share with you this week, I thought I'd share two things that are definitely not my own.

First-News! My friend, Renee Collins, is agented! Renee was one of my first blogger friends, and is also one of my favorite. She's worked hard for this, and although I've never read her work, I can attest from knowing her that she is brilliant and funny (and gorgeous)(which isn't necessary as a writer, but now she can have a nice picture on her jacket flap when she is published). Plus, I imagine that good talent keeps company. Anyway, go congratulate her!

Second-Read Matched by Ally Condie. I just finished it today, and I loved it! You can see the trailer here (which I think is one of the best book trailers I've seen). It's kind of like Hunger Games and The Giver and Uglies, but in the end it is its own book and more of a love story than the others. It's also a very clean teen read which I'm always ready to recommend. Christmas present anyone?

Now to go eat leftover cake and ice cream. Oh did I tell you? My baby turned one yesterday. Now there is something that definitely is my own.

When Our Christmas Tree Said, "Bah Humbug"

2010-12-01T18:24:00.000-08:00

The day after Thanksgiving, we put up our Christmas decorations. (No Black Friday for me, thank you very much.) After I put up our 6 ft tree that I purchased six years ago from Walmart for $15, my husband told me we needed a new tree because our current tree was horrible. (We had the same conversation last year.)

I told him a new tree was expensive and proceeded to decorate it with our son. (But not WITH our son. I didn't hang him up on the Christmas tree...in case you were wondering.) I noticed it sort of LEANED after I decorated it. And my son placing many heavy ornaments in one spot may have contributed to the LEANING.

A few hours later, I heard something fall in the living room. One of the cheap plastic legs supporting the tree had broken, and the tree had fallen...luckily NOT onto our children. I thought I could save it with books, yes books, but as I went to prop it up, another cheap plastic leg broke. Then the top fell off the tree. In the end we had this heap of Christmas, still bedecked in white glowing lights, on our living room floor.

And in the end, we found a five year-old 7 ft pre-lit for sale for $15.

A great start to Christmas...not being sarcastic. I love my new-old Christmas tree, which we wouldn't have found had the last one not broken. (Writing analogy? Oh yes, I think it is there.)

(As a follow-up to last week's blog post, I DID at one point during high school try out the toothpaste remedy. Luckily, I had only one pimple which I treated with a younger sibling's bright blue cartoon-endorsed tooth gel. I had a blue spot on my face the next morning that would not come off. My mom let me stay home. (She was a cool mom.) (And I got good grades.))

My Life Mixed with Fiction

2010-11-23T21:38:00.000-08:00

Did you think I disappeared? I've gone almost two weeks without blogging. I've never gone so long without posting something. But the thing is, I've racked my brain for something and come up with nothing. And who wants to read about nothing? Not me.

Tonight I rewrote the beginning of a book that existed for 9,000 words before my current WIP won. Really, I wrote both books side-by-side to give both an equal chance, but Pieces of Moon won. Some days I ask why.

I'm posting my new beginning so we can play a game called Name That Real-Life Event. We all know that our own lives influence our fiction. So what is fiction?

And what is fact?

* * * * * * * * * * * *
Every teenage girl has an ugly-face day once in awhile. So said Claryse my first day of high school--after I woke up with my nose too long and my eyes too close together. "No matter how pretty you are, Emmaline, some mornings you will wake up, look in the mirror, and not like your face. And that's as sure as meatloaf on Friday nights."

But this morning was more than an ugly-face day. I stumbled into the wood-paneled bathroom my sister and I shared with a five year-old tornado, took one look in our streaky mirror, and screamed.

And since I was the first one up, I screamed again,

The door whipped open, and Claryse stood in the hall with one bunny slipper raised over her head. Her little rosebud mouth dropped open as the slipper plopped to the floor. "Why is your face blue, Emmaline?"

I picked up our little brother's Very Berry Toothpaste and turned on my sister. "Why do you think my face is blue?"

Claryse snatched the tube from my hand and groaned. "You were supposed to use regular old, dye-free toothpaste."

I snatched it back and hard, but I really wanted to fling it at her perfect dye-free face. "You forgot that detail when you shared your pimple cure-all with me last night."

Claryse pinched her lips together, leaned over, and gingerly lifted her slipper off the ground. "Well," she said, turning back to her bedroom. "Your pimples are gone so it looks like it worked."

I held back another scream because three screams in one morning might be too many. My pimples were gone, but Freshman Council elections were that day. And nobody was going to elect a Smurf.

The Post in Which You Realize You Aren't THAT Slow

2010-11-11T18:48:00.000-08:00

That is, the post in which you realize you aren't as slow as ME.

I've been very private about the progress (or lack of) of my rewrite. And so, without further adieu, I give you (and why? I'm not sure other than this compulsion for absolute honesty right now)...MY WORD COUNT.

37,000

(Funny that this comes in the month of NOVEMBER. Ironic even. Like rain on your wedding day or like a free ride when you are already late.)

As a smattering of you may recall, I finished my rough draft in a record (for me) two months. I finished that rough draft one year ago.

And it has been a big year. Shortly after finishing my first draft, I had a baby.

I mean, I Had A Baby!

This beautiful piece of humanity may or may not have changed my writing routine a little. And for that I kiss her snotty, teething face every day and she bites my lip with her three-and-a-half teeth.

But the TRUTH is, having a baby didn't really SLOW my writing down. Yes, there were the first few months of adjusting to new life, but normal did return.

And I got back to that rewrite, which is only half done after a year...with many plans to rewrite what I already rewrote.

Okay, you've heard many finish-the-darn-book goals from me, but here is my latest (and I hope, most realistic)...

Here's to one more year and finishing my rewrite once and for all. (Me toasting you with root beer because I'm Mormon and because I like it (root beer and being Mormon and parentheticals.))

Sippy Cups and Sunglasses

2010-11-02T18:50:00.000-07:00

There are a few things in my life that I buy cheap and often: chapstick, pens, sunglasses, and sippy cups--because they always disappear. I don't lose them. I'm much more responsible than that. They really do just disappear.

(Okay, I'm going to have to blame my children for the Case of the Missing Sippy Cups. I think I've purchased ten for my daughter in the last two months. And then there is my son, who although four, has decided he now likes sippy cups too.)

More frustrating that chapped lips when I just bought strawberry flavored chapstick or squint lines on my face which wouldn't be there if they would just stop selling me vanishing sunglasses! IS...

...the missing perfect idea or scene or plot arc or dialogue...

These first come to me in one of three places: just before I fall asleep, while driving, or in the shower. (You know-the unburdened and emptied mind equals inspiration.)

Sometimes, in fear of forgetfulness, I'll start stringing together unrelated (but oh so related) words. Which means I'll come home chanting "park bench, motorcycle, Jean Valjean" or "blue toothpaste, cheerleader, Indian."

Then, if I write it down...even if I manage to write it down moments after it strikes...it still goes missing somehow. It never exists as beautifully as it did in my mind. Or sometimes I'll just leave it there-in my mind. File it away for later, and hope it will just show its face again when my manuscript is ready for it.

What about you? How do you salvage that perfect moment in your story which plays oh so nicely in your head? How do you help yourself remember?

In Which Jane Austen Would Say, "Badly Done"

2010-10-27T17:45:00.001-07:00

I'm sure you have heard of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

Then came Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters by Jane Austen and Ben H. Winters

And now there is a tidal wave of classic literature meets the paranormal:

Mansfield Park and Mummies by Jane Austen and Vera Nazarian
Emma and the Vampires by Jane Austen and Wayne Josephson
Emma and the Werewolves by Jane Austen and Adam Rann
Jane Slayre by Charlotte Bronte and Sherri Browning Erwin
Little Vampire Women by Louisa May Alcott and Lynn Messina
Little Women and Werewolves by Louisa May Alcott and Porter Grand
Romeo and Juliet and Vampires by William Shakespeare and Claudia Gabel

I read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies a couple years ago. I bought it because my husband loves zombies and I love Jane Austen, and I believed it was the perfect union of our obsessions. It made me laugh.

But then I read it. The title and cover were more clever than the execution. It was 75% Jane Austen's book and 25% zombies woven throughout. Really, the zombie mayhem became redundant because the only plot driving it forward was the plot that we all know and love.

But the worst of it - I felt like a friend had returned after a long vacation tatooed all over so that I could hardly recognize her under all that ink. Yes, Mr. Grahame-Smith, what did you do to my friend?! Those that do not read Jane Austen will pick this up and become acquainted with what isn't really her.

It makes me sad. If Pride and Prejudice was a religion, I'd call it irreverant. There is a difference between fanfiction and taking the actual text and warping it into something it was never meant to be.

Now, these books are very popular, so I probably don't share my opinion with too many. I am sure that in the end, the real classic will outlive these "fake" classics. However, if someone goes and gives Marilla a taste for blood or sticks a merman fin on Gilbert (DON'T get any ideas), they will pay. Yes, they will pay.

(Next day: Please be sure to read Vera Nazarian's kind response in the comment section.)

Time, will you PLEASE stand still??

2010-10-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

You would think that writing a book about Time, especially the End-of-Time, would give me a little leverage. But no, my day is STILL only 24 hours long.

Actually, it's less than 24 hours long.

You see, I believe Time is reading my book, peering over my shoulder as I write. And he's ANGRY (Time is masculine in case you didn't know) because things do not look good for him so far. As far as he can tell, Time ends.

So in revenge, Time is stealing my day. I blink and my day is over. I turn around and my baby is almost one.

If Time would please be patient, Time will see that all ends well in my novel. I am not planning on giving Time an unTimely death. In fact, I think we need to work on a compromise: Give me more day and I will let you live.

Countdown

2010-10-18T08:33:00.000-07:00

I started reading Middle Grade again. I love Middle Grade because it was at this age I fell in love with reading. I haven't been disappointed.

This weekend I finished Countdown by Deborah Wiles. It is a semi-autobiographical book about an eleven year-old girl, Franny Chapman, living outside of Washington D.C. during the Cuban Missile Crisis. (Deborah Wiles also lived outside of Washington D.C. when she was eleven and during the Cuban Missile Crisis.) It is the first of three in the "Sixties Trilogy."

This book has a very unusual format. It's been called a "documentary novel" because interwoven throughout the story are little reports on the Presidents, popular culture, and issues of the time. And every so often the story will be interrupted by a series of media excerpts. It kind of felt like little commercial breaks with newscasts: quotes from political figures, pieces of songs, LOTS of pictures, reminders to "duck and cover."

I LOVED the concept, and I hope to see more historical fiction written this way. It was a very good way of giving the reader another view into the story's world. I felt like I was living the Cuban Missile Crisis right along with Franny.

The story could have stood alone without all of this, however. Deborah Wiles really painted life for an eleven year-old, and helped me remember what it felt like to be eleven...even if I didn't live in fear of a bomb being dropped on my world:

I remembered being SO ANGRY when I fought with friends. I remembered feeling shame and disgrace before a parent when I'd done wrong. I remembered vying for acceptance among my grade-school peers. I remembered wanting to please a teacher. I remembered wanting to be just like my older sister.

The story is full of all the ups and downs of the beginning of Franny's fifth-grade life. And you actually see the Cuban Missile Crisis through her eyes-not an adult's eyes. I think it is very real-to-life how a child would have perceived the threat.

I only blog book reviews if I REALLY liked the book, so this comes highly recommended. Go read it!

The First 250-Words Blogfest

2010-10-16T07:01:00.000-07:00

Elle Strauss is hosting a First 250-Words Blogfest, and I'm going to play. Now for my 678th attempt at a beginning:

Pieces of Moon

When my aunt Meg warned me about the drop-off, she didn’t know she was tempting me. Now, with the waves brushing against my chest and my feet bouncing over the ocean bottom I anticipated the moment it would all vanish from under me. Twenty feet ahead, the water went from clear to cerulean blue. Be it sharks, mermaids, or Davy Jones, I wanted to be in that place where the unknown lurked below. Anything to chase away the guilt I’d carried since arriving in Belize—that I’d run away from my mom, that I’d somehow abandoned her.

Of course, that was ridiculous. She had Michael now. She didn’t need me anymore.

A nearby kayaker glided through the water, the rhythmic swing of his oar matching the beat of the breakers behind me. I was happy to note the kayaker traveled away from me and toward the fringe reef that occasionally peeked above the water, lining the coast with offshore islands.

Meg’s voice suddenly pierced the quiet, but her words were lost by the distance from the beachhouse. She and David sat on its front terrace. Meg held a life-vest over her head. She probably thought I’d forgotten it, but I’d knowingly left it in the tangle of fishnets and snorkeling gear by the front door. A palette of green palms; blue waters and skies; and white sands surrounded me. The orange life-vest did not belong on this canvas.

Plus, it would complicate diving into the unknown.

In the comments section you may say one of the following:

a) Definitely hooked!
b) Maybe you should try for 679.
c) Is the kayaker in the distance a cute boy she meets on the next page? (Why yes, yes he is.)

I Am So Brandless

2010-10-12T21:00:00.000-07:00

Ideas are wonderful and beautiful things, and many of us have this Incredible Idea Collection: so fragile and so perfect, made imperfect only by our actually writing them out. (In fact, it's probably best to leave the idea alone and just walk away.)(That was Evil Me speaking.)

For me, my ideas are all so different. I mean, REALLY different. If life were pretend and I somehow turned every idea into a book then I'd be totally and completely Brandless. I mean Middle Grade Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Contemporary/Retelling and all that and more for Young Adult. Oh and a few Adults and Picture Books...My brain is such a mess.

What about you? Do your ideas at least stay in the same genre, or are they all over the board?

Giveaway, Blogfest, and Other Things

2010-10-06T07:01:00.000-07:00

First of all, there is a picture book edit giveaway over at Dear Editor. Since I now want to be a YA author and a PB author and a fireman (or maybe the fireman is what my son wants to be) I'm in love with the prize. So if you do picture books, you should take a look.

Last week I participated in Patti's blogfest, in which hours spent writing(/editing) were tallied. I clocked somewhere between five and six hours. (Okay sometimes I lost track of time, hence the "somewhere between.") It's not a lot, but I guess if I'm being honest with myself, lately I've probably averaged about an hour each night on the weeknights.

The purpose of Patti's blogfest was for us as writers to determine how our time was alotted to writing. Truth is, I don't watch TV. I watched a couple of movies with my husband. I cleaned. I blogged, but last week not a lot. I read. I ate chocolate/peanut-butter smoothies. It seems there were still so many lost minutes, and I want to know WHERE DID THEY GO? Because I still went to bed late most nights. And I still didn't do a lot of other things I wanted to do.

I write after the kids are in bed. I thought I'd write while my son was in preschool, but not much writing gets done because I still have a cute baby to watch.

Which brings me to...

An illustration of WHY it's difficult to be a mom and a novelist:

Sometimes we have that moment when we are doing NOTHING. Life just stands still. A perfect opportunity to WRITE. Or...the perfect opportunity to stare at your ten month-old daughter as she picks up your cell phone then sets it down. Then picks up a rag and shakes it then sets it down. Then picks up your cell phone and places it on the rag. Then takes it off. Then picks up the rag and shakes it. Then picks up your cell phone and smiles.

And it's FASCINATING!

The best thing I saw all day.

And finally, thank you Melissa Gill for awarding me the Cherry on Top award. I hope that means my blog is like an ice cream sundae (with no nuts). You should go meet Melissa is you haven't already because she has good questions for your characters and she's from Kansas City and she tallied 14 hours last week writing.

And absolutely, for sure finally-my friend, Heidi Willis and author of Some Kind of Normal, was accepted into an MFA program for writing! You should go tell her how cool she is in case she doesn't already know.

Now I'm off to work on my pitch for another stab at one of Shelli's agent pitch contests!

The end of my longest-post-ever.

When You Are Four...

2010-09-29T18:19:00.000-07:00

Four is a great age. It's an age of discovery and questions. Fortunately, when you're four, your mother knows EVERYTHING. She has all of the answers, and saying "I don't know" is like pulling the rug out from under those four year-old feet. (And usually results in some kind of emotional melt-down.)

When my son asked me where the hot water came from, I showed him our hot water heater. Easy, right? Then he asked me where the cold water comes from. Well, I don't know where the cold water comes from. I told him it came out of the pipes that way. Which, by the way he did not buy at all.

I'm a writer. I like to think I have a great imagination. But I also like to tell him how things are. So while I could have told him that the cold water came from the city under the house manned by small earthen creatures, I just endured the meltdown.

Has your child ever asked you a question you couldn't answer? And can somebody PLEASE tell me where cold water comes from? (Real and imaginary answers are welcome.)

My Kitchen Floor is Dirty

2010-09-22T20:14:00.000-07:00

And it's your fault.

My friend, Patti, is having a blogfest starting September 27 in which we record how much time we spend writing. I don't really keep track, so I'm going to play. I unofficially started today.

I wrote 30 minutes while my son was in preschool.

I wrote 2 hours after my children went to bed.

2.5 hours! Over 1000 words, too! (Way more words than I typically write in 2.5 hours, by the way.)

I thought I'd calculate my blogging time, too...

Um...

Between preschool and after bedtime, I clocked ALMOST the same amount of time blogging as I did writing.

I like to blog, but it needs to me nipped in the you-know-what.

So. I like you. But I am going to try and like you fewer times per week.

(I don't really blame you for my kitchen floor. I actually accept full responsibility, but I've been planning on scrubbing my kitchen floor for way too many days now. I keep blogging instead. It's sticky. Ewe gross.)

PB vs The Novel

2010-09-20T19:38:00.000-07:00

For those of you who came looking for a post about peanut butter, I'm sorry to disappoint you. However, I've used the word "book" in the last two out of three post titles. And I do hate to be redundant because being redundant is something I hate. Now, because I think I'm soooooo smart...

1) PB's are a lot shorter than novels. Who would have known? Significantly shorter. I'm thinking my novel will end up with at least 75,000 words. My children's book...293 words.

2) PB's take less time to write than novels, but more time to write than novels. I spent a good three or four hours on 293 words. Less time than my novel, right? However, it's relative. If I invested that much time into each word of my novel, it would take me a total of 61,443 hours. Really, I did the math. That is seven years of nonstop writing (absolutely no breaks for eating and sleeping).

3) I can read my PB to my son. I can't read my novel to my son. No matter which way I spin it, he's not interested in my novel. "Once upon a time there lived a girl named Tess who suffered from feelings of intense loneliness..." Not exactly bedtime material.

4) Your character and plot arcs are infinitesimally smaller than in novels. Your problem needs to be resolved pretty quickly, and your character needs to figure him or herself out even faster. It's the reason a lot of my PB attempts have fizzled out. I've just shaken my head and asked, "Where is this GOING?"

5) EVERY WORD COUNTS. There is absolutely and under no condition never ever any extra superfluous word usage. Okay, technically there shouldn't be extra words in your novel either, but those can slip a little.

Now onto my secret: I did send out my PB to some dream agents. I want to play this awesome game called Query an Agent! that everyone keeps talking about. And a girl can hope, can't she?

Note to my critique group: I did remove the chicken eggs.

Long Grasses

2010-09-17T07:30:00.000-07:00

When we first moved to the house we live in now, I was very excited for the BACKYARD. My husband and I had never really had one before. See...

apartment: no backyard
House We Cannot Sell: has a backyard but is in the city and I never went in back because I thought I might get shot (probably not a selling point)
duplex: backyard but no backdoor
house: BACKYARD!

However, it is TOO much backyard we've discovered, and is A LOT to mow. Saturday we ran out of gasoline, so all week the back half of our yard has been longer than the rest.

Well, last week I was walking some trails in a park with my sister. In between the trails where the grass and wildflowers grew over our heads, there was a sign that read: PRAIRIE RESTORATION AREA.

Are you catching my drift? Why not stick like sign in my backyard? Then we can have a break AND be environmentally conscientious.

Maybe I can make a sign for my front yard, too. I don't know...would that be pushing it?

A Picture Book

2010-09-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

My son loves stories. Usually my stories are just made-up, strung-along, nonsense stories, but it is one of his favorite things.

Sometimes he'll jump in and finish. Unfortunately, they aren't always happy endings for me. The other day he turned me into a tree and flew all over the world by himself.

Every once in awhile I'll think, "That idea isn't so ridiculous." So I'll write it down. Then I will think, "Yes, that idea is so ridiculous."

However, the other day I wrote down one of our stories. And it worked. When I called my sister and said, "Listen to my book" (and she groaned and I said, "No, not that book-my 293-word book"), she laughed at almost all my words. Maybe I'll write another.

And another.

(Don't worry, Tess of Pieces. You are my first love.)

The Unwanted Book

2010-09-08T19:27:00.000-07:00

Remember the Transformers my husband gave our son for his birthday? Well, I gave him a book, among other things. (Yes, he's spoiled rotten.)

I was with my sisters and parents at B&N where I purchased the book, and they thought it was a terrible idea. In fact, they laughed. Yes, it was a little gender specific, but how often are we guilty of buying something for our children because WE wanted it? Well, I wanted this book. (It's a BOOK, I tell you!)

And my husband? Well our conversation went something like this.

Him: "That's not a book."

Me: "Yes, it is."

Him: Take it back.

(But it IS a book! See?)

(For the record, my son liked it for a couple days. Maybe my daughter will appreciate it more.)

Ambition

2010-09-06T20:58:00.000-07:00

My crit partner, Patti, recently posted a list of goals for Fall. And so, I'm going to copy her and post her goals...I mean, my goals.

1) FINISH MY BOOK. Actually, I've been very happy with my progress lately. I just finished rewriting a couple of chapters, and I feel like I'm ready to move forward again in drafting (second drafting).

2) RIDE MY NEW OLD BIKE. I recently bought a bike at a garage sale, and I'm determined to ride it every Saturday morning. Freedom AND exercise. I started this past Saturday. It's been years since I've been on a bike, and I'm happy to report I did not fall off once.

3) READ TO MY SON DURING THE DAY. I read to him every night, but I want to read to him during the day. At night, when we read, I feel a little rushed. I'm trying to get him to bed then, so I don't linger over every page like he wants to. We started reading during the day, and he loves it.

4) LEARN HOW TO POACH AN EGG.

More than Meets the Eye

2010-09-02T17:35:00.000-07:00

For my son's fourth birthday, my husband bought him Transformers. Yes, I did spend an inordinate amount of time trying to transform Optimus Prime into a truck. (When at first I told a horrified husband that I could not transform Octavius, he asked, "What is he? A Roman?") And yes, I still can't figure it out. And YES, there is a writer's analogy attached to this Autobot.

I think you all know what I mean when I use the terms "word tinkering." You know, when you sit in front of the same paragraph for two hours adding and mixing and taking away words until it sounds and looks just right? (If you don't know what I'm talking about you're not invited to my blog.) (I was just kidding. Come back. I only have 133 followers. I need you.)

And I was thinking about how before I started writing, I had no idea how much went into each sentence and paragraph and scene and chapter AND BOOK construction. I mean, you just don't know until you are sweating over the words yourself HOW HARD it is to transform them into something that comes off the page and paints a picture or inspires an emotion or makes you love a character.

I read once that once you start writing, you'll never read the same again. And it's true. There is so much more effort behind those words than I ever, ever knew. (Unless you are a genius, and the words just come out perfect the first time for you. In which case, YOU are not invited to my blog.)

(Okay, come back.)

My MC is Not Me!

2010-08-30T19:14:00.000-07:00

This is something I've had to remind myself of lately. Mary Kole posted a recent vlog (also part of WriteOnCon)on characterization. She laid out a few questions for us writers to ask ourselves. One was:

Your character can't sleep. It's late at night, and everybody else in the house is wearing sleep masks and ear plugs and can't be woken up. In the very, very middle of the night, very privately, what does your character do?

The first thing that popped into my head was..."Leave the house and go for a run!"

Then I thought, "No! Too dangerous. What a stupid, stupid thing to do."

Then, "Wait, that's what I would think. Not what Tess would think."

Yes, let Tess run at midnight at her own peril, but she is bold and brazen and a teenager whereas I am cautious and thirty and a mom. Tess is not me. I am not Tess. We think differently. We do differently. I don't write my feelings and thoughts, but hers. Yes, she is a figment of my imagination, but one that I've created distinct from myself, and therefore she has her own distinct feelings and choices. And I must let her be...herself.

Regarding Pieces

2010-08-25T06:29:00.000-07:00

Good news: I think I finally discovered my MC's voice!

Bad news: I think I finally discovered my MC's voice. So, all that I've written so far needs some serious revision.

As I read over my book (my unfinished book), I feel like my writing is...nice. That's all. It's also stilted and drab and dry. I was trying so hard to write pretty that Tess came out sounding NOT like herself.

I've spent four hours the last couple of days revising a chapter and a half. And I think I fixed it, but that's it. Did I say my book would be done this fall?

I also have a couple of major scene revisions I'm working on. I want to move forward, but I feel like I can't right now. I don't want my new scenes to sit on scenes I know now are going to change significantly.

Also, I feel like fixing a particular section will help me understand my boy better. He confuses me, and I want to be unconfused.

How are your books going? Do you feel like you have to "fix" things sometimes before moving on?

Read Harry Potter Like Nobody's Watching

2010-08-23T11:30:00.000-07:00

My husband and I met at a youth conference (called EFY for those who may know) in Texas. No, we were not youth, although that would have been very romantic. He was a counselor. I was the nurse. (Still romantic, right?)

Well, during the first week we mostly said a few words here and there, like "Hey, flirty flirty flirt flirt!" or "Flirt! Words are only coming out of my mouth so that I can flirt!" However, at the end of that first week we finally did TALK...over Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. (Outside of the blogosphere this may be considered nerd-territory, but for the record: we are both very hip except when we're not.)

We were at one of the youth dances, chaperoning and saving lives. I was passing through the foyer outside the dance hall (it was really a university gym, but I'm telling my love story and 'dance hall' sounds much better) when I saw my husband-to-be (no those words did not go through my head...yet) lounging under the stairwell. He was reading the aforementioned HP novel. I think I said something really smart like, "Why aren't you dancing?" followed by a conversation about his reading choice.

A handsome young man secreted under the stairwell reading Harry Potter! How could I resist? Plus, he was reading a book I'd read and enjoyed. Had he chosen to dance that night, maybe things would have ended differently. I'm just glad he chose a book.

One Smart Cookie

2010-08-20T14:00:00.001-07:00

Just before I met my husband, I sat in a Chinese restaurant with a couple married friends. I told them that I was SURE I wouldn't marry for a long time, that I had LOTS of plans before such an event took place. Then I opened my fortune cookie:

Confucius say: Top of ladder nice place. Can be very lonesome.

I don't eat Chinese food often, but when I do crack open a fortune cookie, it seems it's somehow applicable to my life. (Maybe it's because I'm a writer and have a GREAT imagination.)

Here's the latest:

These fortune cookie writing people? Brilliant. Although, I'd change it just a little (if I'm allowed to do that, which I'm sure I'm not because much bad luck will follow me if I do) to say:

Write a novel--and learn more about life.

A Literary Memory

2010-08-18T15:47:00.000-07:00

I have this memory...

I am a child, maybe nine years old. I am wearing an over-sized tee shirt. It was my dad's before he died. I am living in a narrow, two-story farmhouse, old with white siding. My family is in the backyard, lounging on lawn chairs one evening, and I am walking through the grass to join them. I can almost hear the crickets again, see the fireflies.

The funny thing is this memory isn't mine.

It's from a book I read a long time ago, and I don't even remember which book. But it was so real to me, it's stuck in my mind. A literary memory.

Do you have any "memories" from books you've read, so real you can almost believe they are your own??

(For the record, my dad is alive and well.)

Silly Me

2010-08-16T19:21:00.002-07:00

Silly me who thought that I'd actually get things DONE on vacation. I mean, what was I thinking? I brought my laptop and a stack of paperwork. I didn't even bring a book. So what did I do when I had spare moments at my in-laws' in Texas? I (re)read my mother-in-law's copy of Catching Fire.

So, between traveling and Suzanne Collins, I've been blog absent much longer than I anticipated. So much for my smashing return two weeks ago.

However, I am back to normal life. Summer-that-I-don't-care-much-for is almost over and autumn-that-I-love is around the corner. I think my muse works better in the autumn weather. Last autumn I wrote my rough draft. And this autumn...

I am going to finish my book.

This isn't a goal. It's just a fact. Am I being overly optimistic? See, my son is starting preschool this fall. That's three mornings a week to write...assuming my baby girl remains the easily appeased, tranquil, and content person she is. (Seriously, if she's an easy baby, does that mean she'll also be an easy teenager? Hmmmmm? Anyone?)

While I'm excited for the open mornings, I am a little anxious about sending my son off into the world. (A little over dramatic perhaps?) But I've always been there to explain things to him. How will he ever manage alone?!?

Okay, he'll manage. I know. He's a smart kid. He did just tell me that he had four speeches in his tummy, and he needed to talk them out.

I told him I had one book in my tummy that I needed to write out.

Rough is Tuff

2010-08-03T14:21:00.000-07:00

When I wrote my first draft of Pieces of Moon last fall, I finished it in two months. I thought I was pretty awesome. Thing is, I've barely looked back at that draft. All it really did for me was 1) increase my writer-esteem because I could say I finished a book 2) establish some sort of loose outline for my book.

Well, I tried to draft quickly again this last time. But I could not do it, and it fizzled out after about 7,000 words. Do you know why? When I started drafting Pieces of Moon, I really only thought it would need some editing. And that's all. (I did reach the acknowledged point of truly awful, and then it was all downhill from there, but I finished it because I was on this writer's high of cranking out words.)

I read over and over that writing a bad first draft is a good thing. Who writes a good first draft? Well, I learned something about myself last month (while drafting Book 2). I slowed down, and I wrote about 3,000 more words that weren't the greatest, but they weren't the ugliest either. (I say so now:) ) The only thing that kept me going last fall, when I cranked out so many words so fast was that I believed they were good.

I know everyone is different. In the end we all have a book, but to get there...well, it's just a unique journey for everyone. I have a book in my head, and when I write it's like building a wall. I need to make sure each brick is in place before adding the next layer. I need the scene to be strong and intact before moving on.

Don't get me wrong...I am all about revision. I've gone over what I've written in Pieces of Moon and made some pretty heavy notes on what needs to be changed (mostly based on reader feedback-invaluable). However, I don't want my wall to topple over because I threw it together too fast.

A Very Clever Title

2010-08-01T19:37:00.000-07:00

I'm back from my July break. I think taking a break from my book was just what I needed to jump start its completion. (This is me thinking optimistically because IT WILL BE FINISHED.) As I mentioned before, I've been playing with another idea, which I love and want to return to when MY CURRENT BOOK IS FINISHED. (I'm very determined. I don't want a bunch of unfinished books (and dreams) filling up my hard drive.)

As for my previous post in which I mention that my July book started as a book about magic and flowers and turned into a book about cancer and slavery. (What in the world?) Well, here it is in a few words.

(Idea redacted at a later date.)

(Yes, paranoid me was much more persuasive than rational me.)

(But it was a REALLY good idea, okay??)

(This might be one of those moments I feel like I'm talking to myself.)

Shhhhh...

2010-07-14T14:53:00.001-07:00

I'm supposed to be on blogger and book break for the month of July, but I couldn't resist letting you know that I've re-discovered the joy of first drafting. I'm working on a new book to clear my mind before I get back to my rewrite. All I'll say about my newest project is that I wanted it to be about magic and flowers (which it is) but it is turning into a book about cancer and slavery...? I'll tell you more in August.

Disclaimer: No slaves in my book have cancer. I mean what a horrible blow...even for fiction.

Ho-Hum

2010-07-10T21:13:00.001-07:00

I am here to confess that July has dulled me. That my spark of creativity sizzled out with the last of the fireworks. That I'm bored-my blog bores me AND my book bores me. I haven't breaked since the birth of my daughter, so I'm breaking now...from blogging and from my book (but not from writing, never from writing). Hopefully in August, I'll have something more interesting to say and you'll still want to be friends.

Another One Bites the Dust

2010-07-07T20:15:00.000-07:00

Remember this? I must have the worst luck with laptops because Laptop #2 refused to work when I arrived home from Nondescript, Kansas (the best place to spend the Fourth of July). I believe my laptop was angry I'd left it behind. However, the Geek Squad believes it needs a new video card (which will cost more than the laptop is worth). Our rarely-used desktop is looking pretty good right now.

Rather than post anything more interesting than my Laptop Curse (because I have nothing more interesting than that), I'll direct you here where you can read the blog journal of Nurse Katie, who learned all her awesome-ness from me and who is also my sister, as she travels with a Navy ship around Indonesia.

Bree Didn't Live Happily Ever After

2010-06-29T19:11:00.000-07:00

Have you ever read a book knowing that the end only meant death?

In Stephenie Meyer's novella, The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, Bree's second life is, in fact, very short. I read the book anticipating the demise of the protagonist, and my expectations were not disappointed. (Okay, I may have entertained the hope that Meyer had found a loophole that made it possible to save Bree in the end. She didn't.)

I suppose death works in this novel because of who the author is and what universe this story belongs to. But could this work in another novel? Would we typically invest our time reading a story that ends with the protagonist's death?

Bree wins in other ways (which I won't be so mean to spoil in this post, but you can read the novella by clicking on the link above). But in preserving her life (her second life...) she fails.

What drives us to read a book if it's not the idea that when we are through, the protagonist (whom we've grown to care about), will continue on thriving in the fictional world? I guess we have to ask if we read a story for the end or for the journey...or both.

Stephenie Meyer begins the novella with a lengthy intro, stating she'd like us to know Bree's perspective. I did come away knowing more about newborn vampires and the Twilight world, and so I won't say I'm disappointed in having read it. I did echo Meyer's wish when she stated...

The closer I got to the inevitable end, the more I wished I'd concluded Eclipse just slightly differently.

(I did consider that if Bree lived and joined the Cullen's coven, it may have spiced things up a little. I think she would have had a tragic crush on Edward, and maybe bit Bella herself.)

Can you think of another book in which the protagonist dies? Would you typically read a book that ended this way? Which is more important for you: the journey of reading the book or a happy ending?

Winners!

2010-06-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

I had 35 entries! (38 if you count the extra entries for those who spread the word.) The problem is that 33 people didn't win, but I hope you still like me...and my blog...even if I write cryptic analogies about garlic in your manuscript.

Winner of my first prize...

JACKEE!

And Jackee, since you said you were dying of Oreo envy, I will give you the choice of having Gourmet Oreos AND a B&N gift card of lower value.

(Jackee's currently in the midst of Flagstaff forest fires, and we pray that she won't have to evacuate! I hope this prize cheers you up. (I promise that random.org didn't know about the forest fires.))

Winner of my second prize...

STEPHANIE THORNTON!

You can email me at Jessica L Oliveros (at) gmail (dot) com!

And for the rest of you that are child-bearing women, I'd like to share something you may need to know. IF you are trying NOT to lose the last 8 to 10 pounds of baby weight, I have the perfect tested solution. Every night make a smoothie with ice, frozen bananas, LOTS of peanut butter, WHOLE milk, and Nestle Quick. Totally. Works. I haven't shed a pound since I started this nightly ritual.

Strong Flavors

2010-06-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

Writing is a lot like cooking. I write with specific ingredients that need to be mixed and diced just right so my story tastes good.

But sometimes as I write, BIG ideas will creep into my mind, ideas that reek of Garlic or Onion. And I feel I must decide NOW whether to add these ingredients or not.

Because although I can revise (unlike cooks), these BIG ideas, once added, flavor the entire manuscript. I know that if I change my mind, I don't have to throw the ruined dish away and start all over. However, if the idea is Lemon or Tarragon or Salt, it will take a lot of work to undo.

Do you have trouble revising out BIG ideas?

(Two more days to enter mine and Janet's 101 Followers Contest!)

101 Followers Contest

2010-06-16T05:20:00.000-07:00

Having both hit 101 followers, Janet Johnson and I are running a 101 Follower Contest. (Actually, since Janet is more popular than me, she hit 101 fourteen people ago, but kindly waited for me to catch up.)

So...you must be a follower of BOTH our blogs to enter. Just comment on this post (and her post!), and we'll use random.org to draw winners. We'll both be giving away prizes.

MY prizes are...

Prize #1

A SIGNED COPY OF MY UNFINISHED MANUSCRIPT!!!!

Just kidding...

A $25 BARNES AND NOBLE GIFT CARD!!!

**********************************************

Prize #2

In the flavor of Kansas City, you have a choice of...

CHIPS CHOCOLATE FACTORY GOURMET OREOS

(life-size picture not intentional but according to Blogger unavoidable)

OR

OKLAHOMA JOE'S COWTOWN BBQ SAUCE
(I couldn't upload a picture, but looks like BBQ sauce.)

Just follow and comment. Easy as that. The contest will run for a week, closing Tuesday, June 22, at midnight.

(I'll give you an extra entry for spreading the word (and letting me know) and one more entry for solving world hunger.)

Cases of Disappearing THINGS

2010-06-13T21:16:00.000-07:00

As it takes me days to draft one scene, I often find myself forgetting THINGS. I try to be mindful of character and place consistency, but THINGS are harder to remember. As I've read (and re-read (and re-read)) my manuscript, I find that THINGS have a tendency to disappear...

The mango and croissant Tess was eating? I definitely did not give her enough time to finish breakfast before she ran into the beach house to change. (Unless she ate it very fast.)

That water bottle she carried as she crossed through the rainforest with Quinn? Well, it ceased to exist when she grabbed a hold of the rope to climb a ruin. (Did she litter? Bad, bad Tess.)

What about the oars they used to beat a path through the island jungle? They really do need them to kayak back to shore, but suddenly Quinn finds his hands conveniently unburdened when he pulls out his camera.

Now the spear. (Oh the spear.) When I chose a fifteenth-century Spanish soldier as one of my heroes, I didn't consider that he'd be toting a spear half the time. He just rescued a small boy, and the spear happily vanished when he needed to lift the child off the ground.

Do you have trouble keeping tabs on all your literary props?

Scriptococcus Publius

2010-06-10T21:05:00.000-07:00

This is a highly contagious bacteria that, if you are reading this blog, you've most likely contracted yourself.

Scriptococcus publius-the unsatiable desire to write with an eye toward one day being published

(You should be aware of a mutated strain of this bacteria called Publiococcus scriptus, which is the unsatiable desire to be published with an eye toward one day writing a book.)

If you are infected, please be careful.

The mode of transmission is still under much debate. An infected person needs only speak of their current writing ambition, and the symptoms (sleeplessness, daydreaming, hearing voices) begin occurring among friends and family. This has led many to believe it is airborne.

However, it's also been discovered that those who consume abnormally high amounts of chocolate are infected, persuading others that it is a foodborne illness. (This may only be a confounding variable.)

If you believe that you or a loved one has contracted this illness...

There Is No Cure.

Prognosis? You (and those you have infected) are doomed to live out the rest of your days obsessed with ink and ideas.

Ants in my Rants

2010-06-07T21:07:00.001-07:00

They have invaded my home, my peace of mind, and even my COMPUTER.

Those nastly little bugs. I feel them crawling on me even when they are not. (And just as I wrote that sentence, a FLYING ant landed on my arm. They've sprouted wings. Wings are cute on faeries, NOT ANTS.)

Today I sprayed the entire perimeter of my house. I have planted poison bait along their trails. Yet, they still found my pantry. So, I sealed all the loose items in my pantry and wiped down all my shelves. This is war. Seriously.

The worse part. Remember this? Well, apparently there are still traces of that Italian Ice in my computer (lemon-flavored (very important that you know that)) because they won't leave my computer alone. Ewe gross. I have so much ant-anger in my heart right now. I can't even write without ANTS.

If I was not so mad right now, I'd think of a very clever analogy about ants and writing. But I'm mad and drained of wit. You must think of one for me.

What? Three posts in four days? Very unlike me, I know.

FIL-ial affection

2010-06-06T19:48:00.001-07:00

This weekend, my visiting father-in-law wanted the Internet, and I gladly let him use my computer. However, I did not consider the two open word documents, one being my book.

(suspenseful blogging moment)

No, he did not accidently erase my book. He did something much worse.

He read the other open word document, thinking it was my book.

This little document was, however, a mess of word vomit I wrote while attempting to get my backstory out. It uses phrases such as:

there lived...
it was as if...
in the meantime...
actually quite...
as it was...

He told me it was very good. Oh dear.

Small post, Small goal

2010-06-04T20:41:00.000-07:00

I have a new fool-proof word goal: One word per day.

I'm really going for a no pressure goal here. Of course, at one word per day a 70,000 word novel will take approximately 192 years. The good news is that this will free up LOTS of time to discover extreme longevity.

A Spell in Kansas

2010-06-01T19:22:00.000-07:00

Tonight I met Aprilynne Pike, young adult author of Wings and Spells. If any of you read her blog, I assure you she is even more adorable in person. (But much taller than she is on her blog, which is only about one inch.)

Aprilynne stressed how success in writing is about the work, not the luck. She said when she set out to write a book, she had no idea how much work it would take. She reported many years of work, 3 1/2 books, and over 100 rejections before she landed a publishing contract. This, I think, is hopeful.

I finished Spells just a couple hours before I met Aprilynne. (I have to finish a book before an author signs it because it's cheating if I don't.) Aprilynne writes beautifully, and her ideas are so creative. What I really love is the stress on family in her novels. There is boy-love, but then there is family-love. And that I love.

Do you want to win $250? I thought so.

2010-05-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

My friend, Bethany, is running her Sports Princess photo contest for 3 more days. Did I mention that since my last Sports Princess post, she went to the London Book Fair (made it there BEFORE the Icelandic volcano) and signed with Irish literary agents?

Her book, The Soccer Princess: Josephina and the Crustacean King, is being re-illustrated by an agented illustrator, and won't be available in June as originally planned (but still in 2010 she promises!). In the meantime, she is still running the contest and handing out 2 fantastic grand prizes. What are you waiting for?

Don't Think and Drive

2010-05-24T20:06:00.000-07:00

Just a warning to CLEAR YOUR MIND while driving, and absolutely NEVER think about your novel then. It may be prime creativity time. Your brain may start to unreel and ideas may begin to fly.

However, your speedometer may slowly creep up. You may not see all the signs you pass. And you MAY miss the exit to the airport when you are on your way to pick up your husband.

It's VERY dangerous. Please, NEVER think about your novel while driving.

By the way, I've decided to be much more regular about my blogging. From now on I will post every Monday. Unless I decide to post on Tuesday. But if Tuesday doesn't happen, I may wait until Wednesday.

And if it works out, I'd like to post a second time on Thursday. Or I'll wait until Friday. I'd like to be much more predictable.

The Unfettered Writer

2010-05-18T20:32:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I want to pause my life, take my laptop, and head to the nearest beach. But there are a few problems: Life doesn't come with a pause button; my laptop has a very short battery life; and I live in Kansas.

But the bigger problem? (Or is it a problem?...) If life wasn't coming at me ALL THE TIME, I think my writing would suffer.

A crazy thought? (How many rhetorical questions can I ask?) The thing is, I believe that the distractions and pulls of life make me a better writer in the end.

I've heard a few people say that once they had open time to write, they found it more difficult to meet their goals.

When we are bombarded with the demands of our day, we might seize the last hour before bed to write. And maybe that hour is more productive than eight fat hours of daytime writing.

Is the unfettered writer really more productive in the end?

What about creativity? It's life and living that feed our muses. Place me on my beach, and I think I'd be lulled to sleep by the waves. Maybe instead of writing I'd drink one too many pina coladas (sin alcohol) (sin means without in case you didn't know).

Give me a day with my two children, and I'll have a breakthrough idea for my book while folding laundry or making grilled cheese. (I was going to say...while changing a poopy diaper. But no, I never have breakthroughs while changing poopy diapers.)

Have any of you ever been so lucky to have large blocks of unfettered writing time? Did you find yourself more or less productive? Did your muse run and hide or stay and play?

Disclaimer: I am still excited for the day when my time is less full, and I can fill it with writing...and not be TOO distracted by the waves and the frozen drinks.

The 30's with a Good Chance of Sunshine

2010-05-17T06:00:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, my parents watched a show called Thirtysomething. It sounded very boring because it was about a lot of old people. You know, those old people in their 30's.

Today I turn 30. Not so old as I used to think ;) I say good-bye to my 20's forever, which were huge. A LOT happened in my 20's-college, career, marriage, children.

However I'm not looking back today. I am very excited for my 30's.

I'm excited to raise my children and hopefully have more babies.

I'm excited to one day move my family to a house we actually OWN. (There is this thing in our life called House We Cannot Sell and Renting Somebody Else's House They Cannot Sell.)

I'm excited to WRITE MORE BOOKS...and...(fingers crossed)...get published! (Hey, that's a ten year time window. Not completely unrealistic.)

I'm excited to learn more, make new friends, and have new interests.

I'm excited to spend ten more years with him.

Yes, the 30's are going to be great.

(After I wrote this, I decided that if I were a novel, this would be the last thing I wrote before I died a tragic death. It would be a very, very sad novel. But now since I pointed this out, it can't actually happen because that would be too much of a coincidence for real life.)

(Phew.)

Calling All Music Lovers

2010-05-12T08:21:00.000-07:00

As some of you may remember, I don't listen to music much. I even drive and write in silence. My life is noisy, and when I can have Quiet, I invite it in.

However, as I was reading a blogpost by Stephanie Perkins this morning, she said:

When I've decided on the tone of the scene I'm writing, I seek out music that reflects that tone, and I listen to those songs for hours, days, weeks on end.

Since she is about to be published, I figure it must work. I thought I'd give it a try because my manuscript needs some serious momentum.

But I don't know many songs, which is why I'm posting. Here are my upcoming "scene tones." Any suggestions on accompanying soundtrack would be very helpful.

Moonlight Mysterious

Fear, Darkness, and Shadows

Reluctantly Falling in Love

Discovery, Power, and post-apocolyptic Happiness

Bring on the music!

Being Mom

2010-05-08T16:30:00.000-07:00

Feet padding across the floor
"Get up, Mom."
Is the sun up yet?
The morning pauses
Two bowls of cereal
His gummy vitamin
"Play with me."

Squeals from her crib
"Baby's awake!"
Feet padding to the nursery
Happy noises
She smiles
Her small body can't hold
All her joy

They teach me
How to love

All of those morning moments
The time you spent with me
The smiles we shared
The joy we felt

You taught me how
To be a mom

The little girl on the tricycle is my mom in Spain almost fifty years ago. (My grandfather was in the military, and the first home my mother remembers is a great rambling mansion run by servants. Very romantic. Now all that is left of that beautiful house -and we can actually see it on Google Earth- are stone ruins. The roof is gone. Trees are actually growing out of her brother's bedroom.)

A Scary Thing

2010-05-07T15:46:00.000-07:00

Today, while visiting my sister, I heard a large boom-clatter-boom followed by the cries of three children. Thinking of toppled toys and disgruntled children, I went upstairs. My neice was standing outside her bedroom door crying. I attempted to open it, but could only crack it as it was blocked. Through the door I could see my son...crying. And my nephew...crying, with half his body under a fallen dresser. This is what blocked the door.

You never know how exactly you will react to something before it happens. You'd like to think that in the face of an emergency you would be very calm and collected. And maybe I would have if I could have entered the room immediately and raised the dresser. However, I couldn't get in. I imagined my nephews legs crushed, and it seemed the more I pushed the more pain I caused him.

So I screamed. A scream that put pictures of blood and impalation in my sister's head, and she ran up the stairs calling 911. Of course, this all took place in a matter of seconds. A moment later, I had my brain about me, and moved the other piece of furniture that blocked the door. I lifted the dresser, inspected my nephew's legs, and five minutes later he was running around in his dinosaur costume none the wiser. Sorry 911 dispatcher.

I'm not posting this just to tell you I'm a screamer, but to remind everyone with small, climbing children (and within the realm of my blog) to anchor their furniture to the wall...especially the tall and heavy kind. I didn't know it then, but the dresser in question was actually quite light* (cheers for cheap furniture). However, my other sister (also present at the scene of crime) knows of two children who died this way.

(Here is a how-to link. Works for evil dressers, too.)

On a much MUCH lighter note, I won a contest today. Well, okay...second place. The other two entries were pretty fabulous. Go see.

*later addendumm: While discussing the above incident in-depth with my sister just now, I made a comment about this 'light' dresser. She said she always considered it a very heavy dresser. Hmmmmm. Adrenaline-rush when I easily lifted it off his legs? A very lucky boy? Or maybe guardian angels? :)

Flesh

2010-05-03T19:47:00.000-07:00

If you give a writer mom alone time and some cash, she will NOT spend it on practical things like massages and clothes shopping. No, most likely she will waste it on conferences and workshops.

Saturday I attended a SCBWI workshop, which experience I highly recommend. I've been to one other workshop, as well as the 2009 conference. I enjoyed them all, but I enjoyed only spending $20 on the workshops. For a fraction of the conference-price you are still getting a WHOLE day of writing advice (which rhymes with price) from a real-life author.

There is also the bonus of meeting real-life writer friends, although whenever someone spoke I thought, "Why are you talking? I didn't click on you." I'm not quite as sociable with strangers as I am on my very own electronic stage. Yet we shouldn't underestimate the power of networking in the flesh. (Hence my title. You thought it was a zombie post, didn't you?)

And, having someone look at me and TELL me how plot and characterization works clicked in a different way than reading it...which I've done one million times. I didn't feel like the information I received was necessarily new information, but I learned it in a whole new way. I think it stuck this time.

If you haven't already, check out your SCBWI chapter online information. It seems mine has a workshop every quarter. Once I get permission from the author, I'll post a few tips that I found really helpful.

Now go and win some books or something.

Wabi Sabi

2010-04-26T20:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend I read an article about "wabi sabi" which is the Japanese philosophy of embracing imperfection (to sum it up imperfectly).

Beauty is transient and so we find peace in the worn, the wrinkled, and the not-so-perfect aspects of our lives.

The last two days, I've been trying to live this philosophy.

Toys on the floor? wabi sabi

Stack of paper collecting in my kitchen? wabi sabi

Buzz light-year shoes with his brand-new church suit? Scratches on my coffee table? Poop-stains on my cute baby clothes? Scuffs on the wall? WABI SABI!

(By the way, there needs to be a better balance between a wabi sabi home and a zen home, because after a weekend of saying "wabi sabi" to all messes, it's a huge disaster.)

What about the messes, the incongruencies, the scratches, and the poop-stains in my manuscript? Just like I need to learn to live in an imperfect house and live with an imperfect me, I need to learn to write in an imperfect manuscript.

When I edit, I can try and perfect it. But not now. I am writing my second draft, but it is still a draft and I've been striving too hard for perfect.

I don't want this draft to be quite the train wreck my first draft was. I find that as I write, I need a scene to be strong before I build on it with another scene. Strong, not perfect.

What about you? Do you need a little wabi sabi in your manuscript?

A Character Thereby Complete

2010-04-19T19:30:00.000-07:00

He is also handsome...which a young man ought likewise to be if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.

I was perusing my Pride and Prejudice the other day and came upon this. Although Jane Austen meant sarcasm to drip from Elizabeth's lips and off the page, I think she hit on a young adult fiction truth.

Oh the handsome teenage hero!

I know there may be exceptions, but I'd say that most young adult heroes I've read rival Edward's granite abs. And I confess that my two heroes (how will she choose!?) are nice-looking.

Of course the hero has other attributes: He's smart. He's witty. He's caring. He is IN LOVE WITH THE HEROINE! However, these you often discover as you read. When the hero first enters the book, don't we want to know what he looks like?

Why? WHY? Because the teenage girls need to fall in love with the hero? Is this the quickest way to their heart? (So what are we telling them exactly?)

I'm not about to uglify my heroes, but it made me think and wonder after everyone else's take on this phenomenon of handsomeness.

Enter Olivia

2010-04-16T08:19:00.000-07:00

I am pausing this week of viruses, fevers, and drips to post a piece from my book. Remember Olivia and how much trouble she gave me? Well, the words did finally wrap around her and pull her into the manuscript but not without a fight.

Cue Curtain

“That’s Olivia,” Quinn said, following my gaze. The girl stood to meet us, unfolding her pale legs and wiping her hands on her cut-offs. A mess of blonde curls burst from under a red bandana, and she studied me as we crossed the short distance between the grid and the pyramid. I thought her faded tee seemed a little tight for the jungle, and her legs a little long for archaeology.

“Olivia’s our glyph girl,” Quinn continued. “Did you remember the necklace?”

I placed my hand over my heart where the amulet hung, still tucked away under my shirt. “We don’t have to show her. She looks busy.”

“She’s not too busy.”

As we approached, Olivia stepped over the ropes and pegs that divided the grid. “I waited for you this morning,” she said to Quinn. “What took you so long?” Her voice was breathy and British and hinted of the peppermint she cracked between her teeth.

...About a page and a half more words that would not make sense to you out of context, would be way too long a stop for you on the blog highway, and frankly, I'm not sure I like enough to post...

“What are you thinking about?” Quinn asked as we stopped under the shade of the tent.

I hesitated, unwilling to share my real thoughts, and jerked my head towards Olivia. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“How would you know?” Quinn asked. “You barely spoke to each other.”

“It’s girl language,” I said, lowering my voice. “She looked right at me, and said ‘I don’t like you.’”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, she also said, ‘Hands off. I saw him first.’”

Quinn’s eyebrows knit together for an instant before comprehension lit his face. “You mean…You think she…” His words fell off as he looked at Olivia, who luckily seemed unaware of our discussion as she brushed away at the dirt.

“Yes,” I said, cringing when I saw a smile’s shadow play on his lips. “That makes you happy?”

“That makes me amused, Tess,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “I’m not interested in Olivia. I’m interested in somebody else.”

I hoped the subdued light under the tent masked my blush. “What did you want me to see?”

Brag

2010-04-10T07:54:00.000-07:00

I hate for a whole week to go by without posting. And so, because I'm short on time and inspiration, I'm going to make a short brag list. It is more exciting to me than you, I'm sure, but maybe you'll be a little bit jealous. Which is my goal. To make everyone jealous.

In May I am going to attend an SCBWI workshop on characterization. It is so much more than a workshop, however. It will be my first time alone and away from both children for more than two hours.

In June I am attending a Supernatural Summer event which is actually coming HERE, to Kansas of all places. And only twenty minutes from where I live. I'll get to meet Aprilynne Pike. Hers was one of the first blogs I came across when I started writing and blogging over a year ago, and she has been a great source of inspiration. Plus, she writes lovely books.

Last week I attended a fundraising event at church, and purchased five hours of website design for only $30. I'm not sure whether to redeem this now or later. It seems kind of early in my writer development for an actual website.

So in a couple months I will characterize better, own a signed copy of Spells, and possibly have a website. There is nothing more exciting...except maybe finishing a book. And finding an agent to represent the book. And selling the book. Hopefully you'll read that list someday.

What Husbands Are Good For

2010-04-03T13:00:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned before that I am concerned about the expiration date on my novel.

See, my novel centers around the Mayan end-of-time prophecy. Which is 2012. Which is in two years.

1) Most agents are looking at novels now for publication in 2012.
2) My novel is not finished. (It's 2010!) Clock is ticking.
(Oh and 3) Most importantly, as the world will be ending in approximately two years, eight months, and eighteen days, who will be left to read my book?)

When I shared these thoughts with my husband he said I only had to change a few things in my novel, and it could be published later.

Like what?! I asked, irritation clouding the air between us like a foul odor intent on stinking up any marital communication that involved my masterpiece.

He suggested, between mouthfuls of underdone red meat, that as the world will in fact not REALLY end in 2012 (you had me fooled, Long Count Calendar), people may want to know exactly who saved them and how.

What a genius.

No more end-of-time pressure.

You Have An Ugly Baby

2010-03-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

Three years ago, when my first-born was a baby, I asked important questions such as: Is it time to supplement with formula? Johnson's or store-brand? If my baby were ugly, would people tell me?

No. No one will EVER tell you if your baby is ugly. These thoughts naturally inspired a book idea:

You Have An Ugly Baby
The Art of Giving Compliments

If you have a baby, people will say something. They will go out of their way just to peek into your stroller or your carrier...because people like to look at babies. But once they've peeked, they must comment. I mean, they can't exactly just turn and walk away, can they?

So what if your baby has a big nose and squinty eyes and abnormally large jowls? You'll never know. You'll just never know. Because, to you, your baby is perfect. And the peeker is left to form a compliment based on some redeeming feature:

Hair-especially if the baby has a lot of it. If the baby is bald, you may have to try...

Chub rolls-but only if you are sure it is a boy. Moms like to hear they have a fat boy, but not so much a fat girl. If the baby is scrawny and bald, you'll have to refer to blanket statements.

"Your baby is precious" seems to sum it up pretty well.

Recently I've considered the art of receiving compliments. Now I have another perfect baby. (At least I think so...naturally.) And people tell me she is beautiful. Today I was chatting with a friend (I know, a real-life friend...crazy) and I mentioned that perhaps I'm not receiving the your-baby-is-beautiful compliment well.

Typically I agree and say, "I know." However, I realize this isn't going to encourage further baby admiration, and it sounds like I'm a little full of myself (or my baby). In order to conform to social norms I must start expressing gratitude or adding some self-depracating statement like, "I don't know where she gets it."

Okay, my compliment book concept hasn't exactly been developed beyond this. In fact, I was going to tweet this but decided to turn it into a blog post and now I've probably dragged the subject out past redemption.

I absolutely guarantee that the next post I compose will be related to writing, unless it is not.

Adorably Brilliant

2010-03-26T08:22:00.000-07:00

This is my 100th blog post! I'm sure I'm supposed to do something to celebrate, but I'm all out of chocolate poo.

Instead, I'm going to refer you to an incredible book I just finished. I took a break from the paranormal and checked out Ally Carter's Heist Society last week. It is adorable, brilliant, adorably brilliant.

I put this one at the top of my list with Hunger Games. It has been optioned for a movie, and I'm very excited. This book was so refreshing after reading about six or seven stale books in a row. Ally Carter writes so well, the dialogue is amazing, and the plot is so together. No plot holes. None.

One thing that Ally Carter does so well is switch between the omniscient POV and third-person POV (Katarina). She wrote in her blog that she thought of it as a movie while she was writing it, and it does read a lot like a movie. It's very fast-paced. I stayed up finishing it last night, and I haven't done that for awhile.

Just a quick synopsis: Katarina Bishop was born a thief and raised a thief, but her thieving life wears on her. So she does what any thieving girl would do-she steals a normal life. This backfires, and she's thrown back into her "heist society" when her dad's life is on the line. You find this all out within the first few pages, and the rest of the book is a lot like Ocean's Eleven and Italian Job. But not. It's very original. I HIGHLY recommend it. READ IT.