For the Love of Cashew Milk and the Nervous, Gulpy, Awkward Face

I sort of feel like a broken record. Like once a month I spit out all that ails me in a therapy session. But, I swear I'm not making it up. All that emotional upheaval that make January and February hell? Yeah, it was replaced by life and money hell :p It could be worse, but a trip to the ER for my husband, job changes, tax season, blah blah blah. The past couple weeks have been downright exhausting. Everything sort of happened at once. I like to think things are settling down, but I suppose until I get my final papers written for school I can't quite get comfy.

On a much lighter note, I just had some cashew milk ice cream and thought I died and went to heaven. As a milk-a-phobe (I'm not really afraid of milk, it just makes me feel like miserable), I have known better than to have ice cream for several months. It's really not worth it, and though I have accepted living without, every once in awhile I think about it and get tempted to pick up some non-dairy ice cream. Frankly, though, while usually I'm really not picky, I'm just not a fan of coconut or almond milk ice cream enough to pay five bucks a pint and I don't do soy. So I've just gussied up and tried not to complain about the situation. That being said, when I'm hankering for a cold treat, I'll sometimes mosey on by the freezer section of the store to see if a sorbet looks good. This time around I saw the cashew milk ice cream. It's new, at least in my area and was... well sort of on sale... meaning that if that price is on sale I will never pay full price :p You see I'd learned that the right brand of cashew milk actually has the closest flavor to milk without being sickly sweet or tasting like, well.. an almond. I decided to give it a try and was so excited about the result that I texted my husband with the new - and my boss with the news, because he's a non-dairy-er too.

What does this have to do with writing? Absolutely nothing. I'm just that happy about my discovery. As for writing - I've gotten into the joy of revisions and have been really happy with all the changes so far. I even get excited about the progress! I see it written out like so:


Words Revised: 35,570
Words Yet to be Revised:86,686

And I think, "Yay! Progress!"

Then I think of the scenes coming up and the work to do, I get that nervous, gulpy, awkward face that they've mastered in cartoons, and wonder, "Will I keep making progress?"

It's a silly question, because - Heck yeah I'm gonna keep rolling on! None the less, it's a new challenge to be in this place. I feel excited and impatient, but mostly nervous at the prospect that I may just finish a book. A book that I feel is worth something. One that is worthy of sending out to be read. And hope seems so dangerous. But, dangerous or not, no one ever got anywhere with a book by staying safe and not risking it out in the real world.

So I send out a "Hurrah!" to all of you brave writers out there who are or have braved the danger and shared your work with the world!

How about you? Do you have that "knowing nod" to share about getting into a good revision of your book and seeing what's coming up with the realization of how hard it's going to be? What motivated you? What was the best tactic you took to revising?

Life, Revisions & Agent Blogs (IWSG)

Hiya folks! Happy March to y'all. Last month I spoke about how miserable things were. Friends - they stayed so freaking miserable. I say "Happy March" because in com
parison February it would have to be happy or it would have broken the internet. Or something... apparently that happens a lot. (The dress is white and gold O.O and so was the llama! o.O O.o).

I didn't really get anything resolved until last week. It took a lot of prayer, and getting over some SERIOUS nerves to handle the situation. Except that it was the reasonable response for any adult - I sort of feel like I should get a medal :p Anyway, now that I'm no longer vacillating between the pits of despair and the rage of the machine - now I reside in a fluffy cloud of meditation and reason - I'm peeking into my writing.

I sort of got royally stuck on a scene. I'm not sure what to do with it. I almost want to get rid of it - except it's not really one of those scenes you can get rid of. :/ But when I find myself in places like this I always wonder - if I don't want to write it (or in this case revise it).... then wouldn't that mean that no one would want to read it? I think that once I start working on it again, I will get back in the swing and get interested - but what I'm hoping for is some advice. I asked last month and got some good responses - but I want more! More! More I say!

What are your best revision tips? What are your favorite things about revision? What helps you revise to a pretty polish? 

While, I haven't been working on my book a ton this month - I have still kept in on the writing world. My favorite way to do that is to read agent blogs. Right now there are a few that I follow - but my absolute favorite is Janet Reid. I like her voice and her personality. I also love her commenters. There's gold in them their thoughts. If you aren't already reading some agent blogs I recommend you take advantage :)

May your March month be a happy month!

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 :)

Sneaky Post (IWSG)

I'm being sneaky and writing up a quick post from work about work for IWSG! We had a couple slow months there during the holidays - but here at The Clinic we have entered January with vigor and vim! We are super busy, and I have lots of what I call "ExtraCurricular" work to do: flyers to make, handouts to BS into something not BS. I have been working longer hours and my to-do list grows twice as long with every task I complete. I haven't been this busy with work in... well, actually, ever. I've worked long hours and other jobs before - but I've never been as invested as I am here. I'm the only other member of a two person machine! I care about it functioning optimally and I'm invested in it's success. That's before I even get to the stuff I might be included into with the franchise aspect of the clinic. So I am busy - super busy.

I am also on day 19 of my 21 day cleanse and I feel great! This made this last month a little harder - but the truth is I am feeling fan-freaking-tastic now. I have energy, clarity, drive! Which coupled with the aforementioned busyness means that I have luckily had enough energy to take care of some of the mess that is my home as well - which has gotten one person messier since we took in my brother-in-law to live with us (bless his heart, he is minimally helpful, but you can only have such high expectations from someone come down with Epstein-Barr - so I practice patience, and use a little of my very blessed extra energy to take care of the extra mess too).

So my productivity is through the roof of late - which has had both a positive and negative effect on my writing. I have energy and gumption so I have still been doing some writing and I feel like writing all the time! However, for the first time in my life I can genuinely say that I am struggling to find time to write! I have started pecking out words-at-a-time pieces on my iPad in between charting for the doc during patients appointments- but that's pretty hard. It's hard to try to trickle out creativity in between all the logical work. I would consider turning into one of those late night writers - but the truth is - I can't do that anymore without consequences - and knowing how good I can feel and how much I can get done when I feel that good is something I am not willing to compromise on a regular basis.

I have not lost hope, by any means but I am having to take life with firmness and seriousness - which is both wonderful and a bit intimidating. Here goes!

Peak-a-Boo!

December 2012? It really has been a long time. I feel somewhat embarrassed, but I have plenty of excuses gathered up to curry forgiveness with. Chief among them, and perhaps the only one I'll take your time to share is that me and the Wombat moved - over 2100 miles!

Yes, ladies and gents, we left the "Keep Portland Weird" slogan toting land of Oregon for the "Keep Austin Weird" slogan toting land of Texas. Most every aspect of our normal life was put on hold for the past several months, but we're here and we're happy.

We've had the great opportunity to get to know some of Wombat's family that we hadn't gotten the opportunity to party with much. The Wombat is falling in love with the computer tech scene. Happy Wombat = Happy Duckie.

Me? I'm working as a personal assistant to Doctor Awesome who I worked with back in Portland last summer. To be frank: I love my job. I'm crazy busy and rocking it. 

In addition, working with Doctor Awesome has re-motivated Wombat and I to improve our health even further. Nothing like a huge change in your life (ie., move thousands of miles) to help you break bad habits and change for the better. We've drastically decreased the amount of grains we're eating, making our meals out of good clean meats, and fresh fruits and vegetables. We aren't perfect and still tend to splurge on the weekends (can anyone say "Hopdoddies" or "The Salt Lick"?) - but during the week we are pwning face. 

Well it's good to be back, and I had fun revamping my blog, but I have to admit, I haven't written much in the past few months. Stress and creativity didn't prove compatible. Wombat and I have been working on some projects that have been inspiring me though, and as I've begun to feel better, I've noticed an increased desire to write. Better Health = Better Writing? I think so. With that said, I think I will join my first blog hop! Get Healthy Blog Hop here I come!

In Which I Prove Just How Bad I Am at Synopsis and Selling (IWSG)

I was thinking at this point in the much anticipated month of November that I would be lamenting about the infamous NaNoWriMo... okay, so I am currently very behind and that doesn't really make me feel like a winner - but truthfully I don't care so much about my word count as I care that my word count is suffering because... well... how do I put it... I guess I feel lost. 

I sat down to write the other day and got stumped. Which really shouldn't be a biggy - getting stumped is a part of writing for many of us out there. However, as I thought about it, I realized that I wasn't just stumped with my scene, I was stumped with my purpose. I have a pretty darn good outline for the remainder of my book (thanks to Wombat) - so it's not a matter of where I'm going - it's a matter of why I'm going there. I want my book to say something important, even if it doesn't spell it out as clearly as some of our old time fables. Right now, I look at my book and I feel uncertain about what I'm trying to say. 

Because of how my brain works and how I write, I know that I do well to hammer out the "what happens" and then add in the nuance when redrafting - but for some reason the lack of power in my manuscript is making me blue. frozen. insecure...... and I can't even blame it on hormones (I actually checked my calendar to make sure). 

After all, you know it's a bad sign when you're bored with what your writing. 

I get even more bored with super whimpering blogposts though - so now that I've confessed my blues, I think I'll take on a challenge. 

Y'see I've been tagged for The Next Big Thing Challenge by the incredibly talented and oh-so-entertaining Julie Touvi, over at From Pen to Paper. She's working her tail off posting on her blog daily for the month of November - and she's definitely worth following if you haven't already.

Now, I have avoided attempting to succinctly explain anything about my book thus far in my career (I know, I know, I'll be choking down nails when I have to start querying and pitching), so here's me doing my best to answer a few questions.

1. What is the working title of your book?

Unbanded   - Because my first book was called Banded... and  this is not it.

2. Where did the idea come from for that book?

I really only know part of the answer to this. In Banded, the cataclysmic event that  eventually required my dear heroes to have to do their hero thing was the eruption of an exceptionally terribly plague. Unknown to the main characters, the man responsible was the great Al'man Emerick, First Servant of the Almighty. Enraged by the murder of his son, Emerick struck out against the man responsible, unknowingly unleashing a disease that would not only kill hundreds of innocents, but  his daughter among them. So... while creating Emerick's backstory, Wombat and I came to fall in love with the extensively flawed holy man - and I intended on writing a prequel that would tell his story. The prequel turned into book one -and here I am. I don't know where the idea to make him originally came from - though flashes of memory lead to me think it was very different from what it is now - and if I looked through my old writings I'd probably find his beginnings within.

3. What genre does your book fall under?

Epic Fantasy

4. What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I have in fact done this.

Emerick

 My main "good" guy, Emerick has been the hardest to pin down. If I could find the perfect mix between Robert Downey Jr. , Russel Crowe, a young Alec Baldwin, and James Dean you would see what I see when I write. 

Curiel

My "sidekick" Curiel - easy - Luke Perry.

Peaches

Almighty

Oh-so-down-to-earth practical Peaches - Juliet Aubrey

Lourden

The Almighty -  Edward Norton

Councilor Lourden, bad guy for book one -

        Gabriel Byrne

And the bad guy to span all books- The Antithesis - you just can't put a face to.

5. What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

(*starts with the nails* )  Murdered and then resurrected by the Almighty in a time of ignorance and cruelty, the once undefeatable crime lord Emerick is refused his freedom, and set on a path of redemption in which he quickly finds that the whims of his deity demand the ushering in of a new age - an Age of Enlightenment. 

(Seriously bare bones. Someday I'll post a pitch that'll knock your socks off :)

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I'm aiming to get representation. I dream of being the next one-big-world--multiple-book-rockstar like Anne McCaffrey or Terry Brooks. I don't want to just write for myself though - so if no one else sees my vision, I'll project it myself :)

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Ahem, well... my goal is to finish it by the end of the year... and if that happens (come on NaNoWriMo - kick me into shape!) then it'll have taken about a year.

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Oh, wow... well, I suppose you might find a similar element or feel in Redemption of Althalus by David Eddings, or Song of the Beast by Carol Berg. That's a tuffy.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?

God.

10. What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

Ideally I'll capture a depth in showing a man's redemption, but it is by no means an entirely solemn account. The characters are an unlikely sort providing plenty of banter and fun. In addition, for those like me that love being able to explore - both across distance and through time- a whole new world through the eyes of meaningful characters - heh, well, this is just the first installment.

Ah... I feel a little better.

Tossing the challenge along to Elise Fallson, and Andrea Franco-Cook if it so suits their fancy :) Happy November y'all!

So THAT's Why I'm Bothering to Write a Book!

Lately, I've been having some personal crises. Far from being the most Duckie's-World-shattering, but still pertinent enough to get my attention was the dilemma of the "why" in regards to writing my book. I looked at my writing and wondered, "Wait, why do I like books? Why do I think it's important to read, aside from the fact that I feel it's my calling?"

It took a little while before I realized there were two problems. The first was that I hadn't read much in the past couple years. I'd kind of forgotten the joy, even as I tried to guard against the distraction from writing. The second reason, was that I hadn't read very many books that I believed were truly great or challenging. I think I've read a lot of YA  books lately - and while I really enjoy them, a lot of them don't have the depth that I'm trying to put in my own book - so I don't come away feeling inspired - just entertained. I've also read a few micro-histories. Super fascinating, and really enjoyable - but so far from what I'm writing that - again- I didn't come away feeling inspired.

I've also grown picky. I can't tell you how many books I've  brought home from the library - read two pages and set aside. Being "particular" can be okay - being "picky" just bums you out. So Friday my husband an I went to the library and picked up some books. My to-do list yesterday included "find a book you like and read it!" I did just that. I ended up reading Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.

This book was very enjoyable. It built up with great intrigue. It wasn't a masterpiece. It didn't have quite enough power - but it was one of the better YA books I've read in a long time. What was the most amazing thing about the book, however, was not just the story but the presentation. The book was gorgeous! The cover design, the quality of paper, the page design, the colored chapter pages, and the vintage photos - accompanied with an enjoyable story - had me spending my intermittent thoughts on who might like to receive the book for Christmas! It was absolutely beautiful- the kind of you book want on your shelf because of the way it looks and the way it feels to hold.

My Wombat

The greatest thing about it - it inspired me.

I'm no photographer - I don't intend to try to recreate Ransom Rigg's work of art. However, I rediscovered that a book can be a work of art - a thing of beauty - and I hope to do just that with my writing.

P.S. I woke up today, and my husby says, "We need to finish outlining the rest of the scenes in your book before NaNoWriMo starts." What can I say? I have the best husby ever. I love my Wombat.



Do you find that you have to keep reading to care about writing? Have you read a book recently that inspired you in some aspect of your writing?

"Ah-ha!" Moment

It's Tuesday! Tuesdays are my official writing days. I try to treat it like a job and be lotsa productive. I woke up prepared for this - but after about an hour I still haven't written anything. Instead I dabbled on Facebook - got riled up by political and religious posh thereon - and decided for my health's sake I'd stay away from that for awhile. Looking for distraction, I went looking at some blog posts and laughed my tookus off watching the video on Lisa Ann's blog. Then, in an attempt to get closer to writing - I opened up Scrivener AND my Liquid Story Binder. Then through a small series of unimportant events I found myself in an "Ah-ha!" moment.

You, see I've worked on three major book projects in my ickle life. The first I wrote when I was... say... 14? It wasn't til a couple years ago, when I found the printed manuscript that, I realized that I had in fact written a book from start to finish. How cool! I hadn't remembered this.

The second book project was called Banded. I worked on this for years - probably from 15ish to 22ish. It just kept evolving and changing and it wasn't until the last year of working on it that I finally put my foot down and decided what I wanted. I practically scrapped it and started from the beginning. I then realized that it couldn't be my break-out book, so I shelved it. This was significant, because  the other day after reading someone's post, I though, "Could I really shelve a manuscript? Could I really make myself let go and move on to more perhaps greater projects? Would my arrogance allow?" (I recently realized that I am in fact arrogant. It seems being arrogant makes it hard to see your own arrogance.) Turns out I've already shelved two manuscripts.

I'm working on the third right now which has the working title of Unbanded (yes, yes, my creativity is earth shaking- astounding :p). I intend to prove myself with this book - but I've found myself thinking "Wow, I hope I can do this, I've never written this much before." Apparently, I have the memory of a goldfish, or the observation power of a blind goldfish - or both. Today, I transferred all of Banded over to Scrivenar and got a word count of 111,946. I nearly laughed. You see my prospected word count for Unbanded is 110,000.

So... I guess my point is... if I've done it once - I can do it again!








Does this happen to anyone else? Do you catch yourself not remembering the credit you earned in accomplishing things? Perhaps thinking you couldn't write something "moving" enough, or long enough, clever enough or maybe make a character "real" enough - only to go back to something you've written and see that you actually have done just that?

Not-Really-NaNoWriMo

Something wicked this way comes!! That's right - it's NaNoWriMo! 

Yeah, I know, it's a little early. You have to understand though, that I've only known about NaNoWriMo for a few years, and the past couple Novembers were times of transition. I was embroiled in distractions... things like... my wedding, moving, etc. I've consistently remembered NaNoWriMo over midway through the month. This year, I'd like to participate! 

Sort of. 

I've succeeded with the first step, and that was to remember it. Unfortunately, I'm not really keen on officially participating because... well... I really don't want to write a new book - and that's kind of one of their very few rules. So, instead I'm going to unofficially participate. Conveniently enough, my projected word count for the fantasy novel I'm working on is 110,000, and- wow, actually, as of right now I'm exactly halfway there. This means that after I write another 5,000 words before November (and I better ~.~ *holds bat up to my Lazy Butt threateningly*) - I will have 50,000 words left til I'm done (give or take, of course). 

So my NaNoWriMo participation will be to write the remaining 50,000 words of my novel. It feels outrageously daunting (especially considering that it took me months to write the first 50,000), but the incentive of finishing is oh so tasty! *slurp*

How 'bout all y'alls? Any of you officially participating in NaNoWriMo? How about unofficially? 

Go Figure, But with Good Humor (IWSG)

I haven't been around much lately. Busy being sick. Apparently I consumed some contaminated water oh- about two months ago - and suffered the consequences - for... about two months! Luckily, my symptoms stayed clear of the more foul and unfriendly side of things - meaning, the bathroom and I did not become partners. Mostly I just felt feverish and miserable. Dr. Kind (that's not his name, but he's not the same doctor as Dr. Cool, and he really is more kind than he is cool) used is magical non-western powers and has helped me get all better. Hurray! Feeling good!

This meant, however, that my writing life was stuffed into a box at the back of my sock drawer, and I spent hours upon hours (*cough* meaning about 90) watching Lost. I did other things too - like dishes and laundry and web surfing and online Christmas shopping - but yes, mostly I let myself be sick, ate lots of homemade chicken noodle soup, and watched T.V. I liked the series. It helped that I knew from the start the big "surprise" at the end. I think too, that I'm pretty forgiving of unexplained things - think it has to do with my love of fantasy. That's not to say that they didn't botch some things pretty bad, but the actual end "surprise" was pretty precious, I thought.

Anyways - as I haven't posted in a month, I suppose the only other big news would be these three things. First, that I had a sort of mishap with my hair. Wombat is awesome and trims my hair for me. He's getting better and better at it! But this time, being the loving and giving Wombat that he is, he sort of tried something new and messed up. He finished, and practically with tears in his eyes, professed that I looked like a recovering cancer patient (absolutely no offence intended). I'm pretty chill about my hair, and assured him that its fine- I'll just be looking like my little brother for awhile. Second, I had my birthday. Hurray! Third, I got a day cut at work, and Wombat gave up a day of work for religious and personal reasons. We'll be fine, but it puts a serious hamper in our goal to save a bunch of money. Oh well, we'll figure it out.

With all of this behind me - the good and the bad - I've finally felt re-inspired to write. Which, of course, means that I've been very busy with other things and haven't had a chance to do very much. My daddy bought me a license for Scrivener for my birthday though, and I'm determined to get back to work. I don't know if the rest of you ever feel like this, but lately, when I've felt like my life has been shaken and I don't know which direction to go - I hang on to the fact that I completely believe that I'm meant to be a writer. Do I feel insecure as a writer? Well, yeah. I feel like a farce much of the time. After all, you can't really be a writer if you don't, ya know, write. It's too important to me to let my struggle with being a "real" writer get in the way of trudging through the blizzard of self-doubt towards real success. It's only a matter of time, practice, and persistence. So here's to all y'all that know you're meant to make it! Keep believing! Let it be a driving force! Renew your efforts! Kick trash! Write! Booya!

My Golden Ticket of Scrap Paper

I have a little table/desk in my living room that is technically supposed to be mine to use for writing, and whatnot. For a month or two now, we've constantly had a projector, or video game console on it (did I mention that I'm kind of a nerd?). The projector and consoles have finally been given back to my dad and brother (guess, I'm not THAT big of a nerd), and I have my desk back. I moved my laptop back to this designated spot today, and caught sight of this sitting among the surface clutter.

It says, "Paige, You are a good writer. Are you sure you want to go to massage therapy school?" This was written at the bottom of on of my papers in my English 150 class in college. I ripped it off the bottom and framed it with the name and date of the teacher who wrote it. Now, I didn't continue on and get a four year degree - I went to massage therapy school. I'm a religious person, and I can tell you right now, that it was definitely in God's plan for me to go this route. Had I not, my husband would be a very sick man, and he and I would probably still be living with my parents... or I guess one of my parents. Anyways - that's a long, miraculous and heavy story. My point is that I do not regret in any way my decision - it was the right one.

But, I am also glad that I did my one summer term stint at a university, if for no other reason (and there are other great reasons) than that my English teacher wrote this to me. - By the way, did I mention that he was hot? He was. I mean... I was a bit flabbergasted that a man so genuinely and incontrovertibly attractive could teach a freshman course. I'm pretty positive that my eyes bugged out the first day of class when I realized that the overly good-looking man at the front of the class was going to remain there for all of us to stare at the entire term. I'd put up a picture, but I don't feel that would be either respectful (yes, I recognize that I already did that damage above with my description), nor do him justice (he really is that good-looking). Just understand that, in addition to be a brilliant writer, and excellent teacher, he was a model one (teehee).

Moving on past his good looks, I'd also like to point out that he was a critical thinker, and while not in any way "mean", he wouldn't have written what he did cause he was just that kind of a nice guy. It was unexpected, and coming from him it had to really mean something. No, I don't think I was the most brilliant writer he'd ever met. I literally laugh at that thought. No, no, I am not so gifted as that. But! Up to this point, my writing had been validated by a very small handful of people - most of whom were friends. I respected my high school English teacher's opinion, and held that close to my heart (if she had written a note like the one above, I would have framed that too). This was college though! And he seemed to think I had enough talent, that if I chose to pursue writing in school, instead of massage therapy, that it would be a good move! I could maybe get good! :p

So, I keep it framed on my desk to remind me that someone who's opinion on the subject I respect thought that I had what it takes to be great. It was and is to me a Golden Ticket into the ranks of "good-enough". "All" that I have to do is the hard work to get myself from where I am to the Chocolate Factory. It may sound overly simplistic, but it motivates me- and right now that is far more important than the outcome.

What about you? Do you have any mementos that help you keep going?