In Which I Toot My Own Horn and Shame Myself :P

I was feeling a little triumphant. You see, I've been stuck on that scene and - I got some really good ideas and encouragement from all y'alls (has anyone every told you that you rock? Because you do) - so I got to utilizing some of those ideas. One thing that helped a lot was getting the Wombat in to help me.

Now, first, I should explain that I had this sort of dilemma. You see, the Wombat is an amazing sounding board and crit partner. He's helped me with a ton of stuff. However, I've been apprehensive since coming back to Book 1 and starting revisions, to have him read the book as I've changed it. I don't want him to get sick of it, or too... numb to it? So I haven't let him read the revised work.

But then I got stuck. I'm still unwilling to budge on having him read the new stuff because I'm saving him for a read through once I finish my first revision - I need him to be able to have a start-to-finish experience, because I know that he knows what I want the book to be, and he will be able to tell me if I pulled it off. However... it's been a long time since he originally read my book... you know, as I wrote it. So I had him read my un-revised scenes in and around the section I've been stuck in.

He gave me his thoughts, and we hammered out the problems, and I shared the changes I'd made that needed to be incorporated and we beat the new scene into submission. It feels much more plausible and I feel more hopeful about how the pacing will pan out.

.... yeah... not that amazing, D.V.

Hurray! I got it all rolling and it's fun again! Yay! When I feel happy about writing - I like to cheer myself on with stats. So here they are:

Words Revised: 27,304
Words Yet to be Revised: 95,754

Yeah, I know, there is still a long way to go - but, hey! 27,304 words! That's like almost 110 pages of a mass market paperback :D And those pages are a lot better than they were :)

Now, obviously I still have a ways to go -but thinking about the Wombat helping me with my book, made me start thinking about critique partners. I'm about to reveal how much of a hermit, or workaholic or something-lonely-and-anti-social but... I really only have one friend that writes - and rarely if ever in the same genre. She's real busy, though I expect when this puppy is done that she will be willing to be a beta reader. She's rockin' awesome like that.

D.V..... Seriously? Feet back on the ground.

But... that's kind of it... and well.... I don't know how to get more help. How do you find critique partners? Are you best asking people who write in your genre? I mean... asking someone who isn't a huge fan read your 500 page epic fantasy sounds just unkind... I'm probably whining more than anything... but frankly, I don't know how to help myself with this. Which is frustrating because... I'm actually a pretty dang good critique partner. I know I'm tooting my own horn here - but, I love to help people optimize their vision - and I'm good at it. It's been a hugely gratifying experience to help people in my writing class and to hear how much I've been able to help them. I'm pretty lame when it comes to the grammar and punctuation - but the vision, the pacing, the message - I can help people get those across. I know I exist, so I know others exist... but how do you find each other? How do you find those symbiotic, mutually beneficial partnerships?

Dear D.V.
Get a Grip
- Love, D.V.

I suppose step one is to not be a hermit, or workaholic or something-lonely-and-anti-social that toots their own horn. Maybe two good beta-readers will be enough : P


P.S. - If you haven't already checked out my Me-Casted Book page, you can look at hunky pictures of men and women that I imagine my characters to look like.

Ode to the Okra - Omnomnomnom!

"Mmmmm Okra! Omnomnomnom!" - the Wombat 

A while back I mentioned that my better half - the Wombat - wrote a hilarious love letter to okra. Here it is! Enjoy:

Pickled Okra: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Long Distance Relationship

            Walking through the grocery store is always a heart-wrenching experience, knowing that I’ll catch a glimpse of you high on a shelf in the pickle isle stoically occupying your tiny spot like a sentinel. Oh my pickled okra, as I sit and reflect on our delicious history together, I realize that there must have been a time that we didn’t know each other. And yet, that’s so hard to imagine! As long as I can remember you’ve always been there, though mostly at a distance, like a well-loved uncle who also just so happens to be a mid-tier celebrity that travels more than stays at home. Always too expensive to actually be with you, but hyper aware of your presence wherever I go.

            Your label has been crafted into a face of comfort for those that know your inner zest, yet somehow common enough that you blend in unassumingly with the crowd. You have no need to bring awareness to yourself more than you do, because you’re an underground success. You have no need to show off or catch anyone’s eye, nor do you make yourself more important than you actually are. And to me, that’s one of your best qualities. I can imagine that you’re there for me; just me, you, and the memories that we’ve had. And sometimes that’s enough.

            Other times though, that’s not enough at all. I long for the cool touch of the glass jar that surrounds your true desirability. I ache for the soft gasp of air as the vacuum seal is broken with a steady counter clockwise twist to your golden lid. The burst of salivation as the aroma of your fermented spiced brine reaches my nose, like a salty dill perfume, causing my mind to reel as I so willingly recount our times together. The liquid that is your brine reminds me of the many tears we’ve shed for one another in what seems like eons since our last one-on-one connection.

            But most of all, I hurt for that soft texture as I sink our teeth in to the present moment with you, as we mingle the remembered with the new. It’s only the two of us now, reliving so many fond memories, just as we create new chapters in our long history together. Your soft and beautiful skin that hides an equally beautiful inside. A deeper core that pops with new and hidden excitement for life within every opened seed. I know these flavors have been kept hidden from the world; that this experience is just for me.

            Yes, sometimes it’s okay watching you at arms distance as you follow your dreams of niche success. It’s okay to ache a little as you wear your outer shell for the rest of the world, even if you never reach the widespread appeal that so drives you. But at other times, I need you here in my hands. I need your smell, your touch, and the salt that speaks so loudly of your experiences. But I’ve also learned that the distance makes every encounter a special treat. And while I wish we could always be together, maybe it’s the distance that has made our love grow so strong in the first place.

- Love, 

The Wombat

Because, Life (IWSG)

I've been reading a couple y'all's recent posts and it seems I am not alone in January kind of... well suckin' awful. I don't know that I would say the month in its entirety held a complete enmity on existence, but it sure ended like it wanted to suffocate as much as it could manage.

I felt like crap last week. Pissed. Apathetic. Hurt. Numb. An awful cyclical LAME. I spat more expletives either in my head or out loud than I have probably in the past year as a whole. I don't swear as a general rule, so for me, it was a sign that I really didn't give a... poop... about anything.

I seem to be recovering, though, there are some things in life that I really wish would heal. Wombat and I dedicated the month of February to Prayer. Because... we really aren't good for anything else. Something's gotta give and when something's gotta give, you got it give it Up.

What does this have to do with writing? Dumb question, I know. How many of you can actually get good work and writing done on a project when you feel like you're in a mire? (Please, have mercy and don't post that it's during that time that you get all your most brilliant revisions and publications done, or I might cry)

I've done little if nothing. I couldn't remember why it mattered, or why I ever cared. It was sad face. I'm coming out the other end as of this Monday. Heck, I even had one of my patients at work offer a kind gesture that made me feel a little warm and fuzzy. She's one of those intuitive sort -you can't escape them seeing through the smiling lie on your face, no matter how practiced you've become (or not, My job in a nutshell? Maybe.)

So here I am tentatively poking my head out, wondering if it's safe to touch the manuscript again. It hurts to look at it and feel nothing. I have some hope.

On another note, as I have just delved into revisions for my book, I thought that I would take the advice of... well... some brilliant blogger that I read... can't recall who... it's all a blur... who mentioned writing a query letter even before writing a book - just to prove that your book is query-able. My book is definitely already written, but I figure as I am revising, it's in a "tear me up, glue me back together" stage that would allow major changes - should I find my story lacking important query-able elements. I don't know if that paragraph made any sense, but I have to hit the loo, so I'm not going to look back and fix it if it's gibberish because I need to go.

Well... I'm back... You'd think I had kids with how unabashed I am with sharing the schedule of my potty breaks. Anyway...

Thanks for listening, IWSGers. I will leave you with one more face palm. My last post was a lament on how my bitty super-beginner writing class didn't help much with my paper like I was hoping. This week - two papers that I passed around returned with incorrect grammar corrections. I think I incredulously ranted on my way home, but I suppose that's not fair of me. I know they were trying to help. Needless to say, I've officially adjusted my expectations, and will work on appreciating their efforts and willingness... but otherwise maybe just submit my paper to the schools online writing center for a tutor to look over.

Critique? Or Not to Critique?

The Wombat and I are in a sort of pre-college course. We have both been in college, and don't really need pre-college preparation, but we're praying folk, and when the opportunity came to our attention over the summer, we felt strong inspiration that we needed to participate. Personally, spiritually, socially - it has been a huge blessing. Through participating and fulfilling the requirements I hope for continued blessings going forward with schooling through a rockin' awesome discount on the per credit hour cost of tuition. 

Wombat - Strut

However, the classes we are taking are mandatory and no testing-out is offered. The results of which mean that I am currently taking a very introductory writing class. Very introductory. I'm only in the first week of class, so I'm not sure exactly how the class will pan out, but so far it's rather enjoyably easy. There's been some nice, breezy grammar review, which has been kind of fun in that way that can only be found when doing homework far below your actual competency. Then, of course, there are the writing assignments, and it's been pretty fun to stretch my fingers and write things that I would otherwise never bother to write.

(I just had assignment in which I had to write a love letter to something. I wrote about my Wipebook. It was precious. The Wombat wrote about pickled okra. It made me laugh and blush. As the class is associated with religious courses I had to advise him to edit it just a tad for content. A little innuendo = you can blame the reader for having a dirty mind. The amount of innuendo he had = hard to find someone innocent enough NOT to blush when reading, Maybe I'll post his paper up. It's totally worth reading.)

Tonight, though, in class we all split up into groups and then critiqued each others papers. This is always fun for me. I fancy myself pretty good at giving good critiques. I may be wrong about that, but I enjoy fancying myself with it. Anyway - my group held a good writer, and okay writer and a poor writer and me. It was fun and challenging to find out - in a very limited time - what would be the most helpful advice. 

Well, that was all fine - but then I got my critiques. Frankly, there was hardly anything to them. Maybe my paper really was that nicely put together. That's nice, but not very satisfying. I was ready for critique. I figure I was running amok of two writer hazards. The first possible hazard: there was no one in my group that actually cared, or felt themselves much in the way of writers, enough to think deep and tell me what might help. The other possible hazard: because one or two knew that I liked to write and did so as a hobby, the word got spread that I am "A Writer" - and who of those that do not also call themselves "A Writer" is going to assume that they could critique "A Writer." 

I was bumbed. Don't get me wrong I got nice compliments and there were three minor pieces of feedback that I can take back and consider while writing my subsequent drafts, but,,,, come on! I want it to get better! Which is to say - I want my skill to get better! Per my instructor, it sounds like I"m pretty set to ace the class, as the course parameters are so basic - and the actual writing assignments aren't earth shatteringly important to me, but... I have to write them, so I figure I might as well get some help in improving my writing along the way.

:p Maybe next writing assignment :)

Ya Healed!

I  know it's the day for posting out Insecurities - but I have some awesome news to share.

I am a chiropractic assistant - but not for a "snap, crackle, pop!" chiropractor. I mean, Dr. Cool does that too - and I lurve getting adjusted - but he does more than that. He practices with a more holistic approach treating structural, bio-chemical (fancy word to indicate nutrition), toxicity and emotional problems. It's the emotional - or stress - component that I want to tell you about today.

Alex J. Cavanaugh's Blog Hop

Now I've been receiving treatment for years. I've done the stress technique a ton. It's called the NeuroEmotional Technique (NET). Stress plays a large - and I would like to exaggerate here by adding, TREMENDOUS! - part in our health. There are people whose unresolved health problems are directly related to unresolved stress. In fact, I'm a good example of this, because if my life hadn't been heading down to hell in a hand basket six years ago I don't think I wouldn't have gotten sick at all. But I did. Slowly but surely, over the course of about 3 years. When I hit rock bottom... things were bad. Really bad. Shortly after that is when God showed me every mercy I could have hoped for if I knew it was possible, and found me a job with my doc. It's been a 3 year climb back to the top - but by golly ladies and gents - I am at the top! I never would have thought it possible in that misery that was 2010.

Anyways - that whole story doesn't need to be told to get to my real point. I am here to talk about NET and writing. You see, I have had plenty of NET done regarding writing. It's helped off and on a little here or there, but the subconscious mind tends to be somewhat intractable and often nothing really big came up that could be cleared.

Then, I hit a point where I felt entirely able and inspired to write, but... man, it was hard. I would sit down and write, but every word was pried out of me. Truly, it had been this way for awhile, but I had cleared so much other crap from my head that this irritation was suddenly very obvious. So I had the Wombat do some NET on me (after watching the treatment and getting treated for years, we picked up on how to do the technique on one another - though being married tends to make us go polar sometimes and we know that not all topics or issues should be approached by each other - sometimes you just need to be in the caring hands of your caring doc - which Dr. Cool is.)

I would explain in detail what I got treated for with Wombat, but... first of all I can't remember what emotion it brought up and if I told you details of when it started you'd probably close your browser or blog feed and write me off as a loony. What was isn't really important though. He cleared me of the emotion and I felt a lot better. Didn't think much of it. After all, like I said, I had already been treated for writing before.

Then I sat down to write.

It poured out like melted chocolate. It didn't gush. I mean... I was writing. It takes effort... duh. However, it wasn't like pulling teeth. It came out comfortably. Easily. Happily. I wrote and wrote. Then the next day... well I felt like writing, so I wrote and wrote. The day after that... well I wrote a little more! It felt great! Better yet - it STILL feels great!

So I guess, rather than sharing my insecurities today, I want to just share a little info. Maybe NET isn't for you and that's fine. No judgement on that. If you find yourself really struggling though - sometimes it's not anything you are doing consciously and a little subconscious care could help you tons. So maybe find a practitioner in your area. Maybe look for a counselor - or if you are ready and wanting to make some big health changes find yourself a good chiropractor. You can search for a practitioner here: www.netmindbody.com

Take care! May your writing be forever in your favor!

Blogger May Be

I have never deluded myself into thinking that I am much in the way of a blogger. I like the concept, but honestly, every time I think of writing a blog the same questions pops into my mind: "If you feel like writing - then why don't you go work on your book instead?"

The other thing I run into is the fact that... well a lot of the things that I would talk about on my blog... well... I can't talk about. I'm a chiropractic assistant. I would talk about work - and let me tell you, because of the neuro-emotional technique, I know quite a doozy about a lot of people  - but frankly I don't like messing with HIPAA. There are plenty of safe things to say - like, "we had a guy who hadn't heard out of his right ear for 40-some odd years because of a fall as a kid get his hearing back thanks to our quantum neurology training! (true, and might I add 'awesome!', story) - but I'm so accustomed to keeping people's private information private that it just doesn't come easy in any way to share anything - about others or myself. 

Aside from that - I like to cook - but I don't like to take pictures of food... I like to eat it... no real patience for the picture thing. Who wants a recipe without a picture? Not me, that's for sure. No picture - no eatin'. 

This leaves my writing to talk about - but frankly I am afraid to dish the goods. It's my baby. I have written plenty of junk that won't see the light of day. The stuff that I am nurturing to bloom into the sunshine -well I don't want to share it prematurely. A heavy frost could kill it! It's been a long time since I trusted that a frost wouldn't hit. However, recently, after doing some N.E.T. with Wombat I pondered on what I was like as a teen writer. I wrote with abandon. Several books a once. And the joy was in the sharing!

Life's a little busier and tends to fill my head up more than life did back then - but I've gotta be able to do better than I am currently. In an effort to throw off some of my shackles - my goal is to get a new WIP page going within the next month. More info, more sharing. We'll see how it goes.

This'll sound ridiculous after that big blah-blah up there but I do have something to share (Blah-blah-blah is always sung in my head- see video). If you aren't currently a follow of Patrick Rothfuss's blog - than you are in dire need of some news. 

This years WorldBuilders fundraiser is up and running! Take a look at the swag that's going into the lottery and go buy some people some goats! (It makes sense if you check out the sites.)

Wombat and I have a Christmas tradition started to donate to WorldBuilders every year and this year will be no different. Go! Go! Join the fun! Click the image!