The Mayhem of Writing: SAHM-Style

February 2012 Blog Chain: Second Chances

2012-02-12T10:30:00.000-08:00

You know the drill by now! But if you're new here (welcome, by the way ;) ) then here's the deal: over at AbsoluteWrite (link on the right) I signed up with some wonderful writers/bloggers to do a blog chain. Each of us has a turn to write a blog post on the topic given, and this month's topic is Second Chances. Please be sure to check the end of the post for a list of my fellow bloggers, and give their entries a read. :) I will also apologize in advance for the quality of this post. I have been facing illness (having to do with the pregnancy, and not a part of it), exhaustion, a terrible two's toddler, a cross country move, and the impending long-term separation between myself and my hubby (because of his job, not because we're splitting up or anything crazy).

I have given and received a lot of second chances in my life, and this is one that took two years to get here...and I almost wish it wouldn't have.

I don't know about you, but I've never paid any attention to the "be careful what you wish for" line, at least until something unpleasant happened and I realized I had wished it upon myself. Then those six little words would bounce around gleefully in my skull and I'd shut them up by getting "American Pie" stuck in my head. Right about the time I sat down to do this blog, I realized they had gotten me again.

My pregnancy in NY was quite an adventure. Aside from the mouse episode featured in the last blog, I had quite a few moments of panic and "wtf?". Hubby worked constantly, so for the most part I was on my own. Not having a driver's license, I took the taxi to all of my prenatal appointments. The first time I did so I was extremely nervous, but I quickly got used to it. I knew the route the drivers would take to my doctor's office, and was very confused when one day the driver deviated from that route. He was a man who never spoke to me, but I caught him looking at me in his mirror quite frequently. I started getting nervous, because I'm not an attractive person, so I wasn't sure why there was so much scrutiny. I remembered my psych teacher pointing to me in class and telling me I fit the stereotype for many victims of serial killers. Those last two words refused to leave my brain and I almost peed my pants when we turned off the main road into a wooded area I'd never been before. This was not the way to my doctor's office. I had no idea where he was taking me. In my purse, I had a pocket knife, something I never travelled without, and I opened it, holding it ready just in case. I was terrified, but there was no way I was letting anything happen to me or my baby. We passed an empty lot with yellow tape around it. I moved the knife from my purse to my lap, behind the purse so he couldn't see it. He kept looking at me. There were no houses along the road, just trees and empty lots. And then, finally, I saw large construction equipment ahead, and two minutes later we pulled into my doctor's office parking lot. There was a huge detour while the road was worked on, and after that driver several others took me along the same route.

All during that ride, I prayed for second chances. I wanted another chance to tell my husband how much I loved and appreciated him and how hard he worked for our family. A second chance to talk to my family. But most of all, I wanted a pregnancy do over. I loved my unborn baby and never for a second regretted his existence. What I did regret was my circumstances. My inability to drive put me in the position of relying on that cab driver who could have easily had the evil intentions I imagined; I wanted a chance to go back in time and get my license. I loved living with my hubby, but I wanted my family around to help me. I was so lonely, and desperately wanted my friends and family around to distract me from my hubby's frequent absences.

Well, ladies and gentleman, I got that pregnancy do-over. This time, I will be moving back home. While there, I will get my license, live with my family, and be constantly surrounded by my in-laws, extended family, and friends. I won't have time to be lonely. You'd think I'd be super stoked that the second chance I wanted was finally here, and this pregnancy would be totally different than the last.

But here's the trade-off: this time, my husband is the one missing in the happy picture. His job is taking him away from me for months. He will miss every ultrasound, every fetal heartbeat, finding out the gender, feeling the baby kick. There's a good possibility he might miss the birth. When I was whining in NY and wanting my family, I never realized how lucky I was to have my hubby by my side. Now that I know he won't be here, I'm wishing for another second chance: to go back and not wish him out of the picture (though I know that's not what happened, it still feels like it. Blame it on the hormones!).

Be careful what you wish for...

And here are the other entries, that most definitely kick more butt than mine. ;)
Participants and posts:Turndog-Millionaire - http://turndog-millionaire.com/ (link to this month's post)
orion_mk3 - http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month's post)
Ralph Pines - http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
magicmint - http://www.loneswing.com/ (link to this month's post)
Tomspy77 - http://thomaswillamspychalski.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
LilGreenBookworm - http://themayhemofwritingsahm-style.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
LiterateParakeet - http://lesliesillusions.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Diana_Rajchel - http://blog.dianarajchel.com/ (link to this month's post)
sambgood - http://www.samanthabagood.com/ (link to this month's post)
Bogna - http://bemaslanka.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
writingismypassion - http://charityfaye.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
kiwiviktor81 - http://storygenerator.net/ (link to this month's post)
AFord - http://af12.webs.com/ (link to this month's post)
randi.lee - http://emotionalnovel.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
These Mean Streets - http://ohno-anotherwritingblog.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
areteus - http://lurkingmusings.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
Domoviye - http://living-working-in-china.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
pyrosama - http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
SuzanneSeese - http://www.viewofsue.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
julzperri - http://www.fishandfrivolity.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Nissie - http://www.paperheroes.net/ (link to this month's post)
in_one - http://quirkythomas.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)

A blast from the past (bad word alert)

2012-01-19T19:18:00.000-08:00

The non-writing bug is still buzzing around my head, so I don't have any fun new posts for you. But I was feeling guilty for neglecting you, dear readers, and wanted to do something. So here's a story for you from when I was a kidlet. Hope it gives you a laugh!

I was probably 8 or 9 when I came home from school with a paper that had a lot of red circles around a certain word. My teacher told me to have my parents sign it and then bring it back to her. So I gave it to my dad and went to my room. Not five minutes later, I hear it: "Get your ass out here!" Instant terror.

Now, let me pause here. My daddy is not an abusive man, or anything like that. So when I say I was terrified, I mean that I was terrified of him being angry with me or disappointed in me. He never hit me or called me awful names. I'm just that kind of person that hates confrontations, conflict, etc. and immediately bursts into tears when put in that sort of situation. I still cry when I argue with my insurance company. Anyway, back to the story.

Already halfway to tears, I opened my bedroom door. From my doorway, I could see only the end of the couch - the end where my dad was sitting. That hallway was a mile long yet way too short as I walked to the living room, stopping in the entryway. Increasinly impatient with my hesitance to approach him every time he said to come closer, he finally commanded me to his side and I stood in front of him, watering eyes on the ground.

"What is this word?" he asked, and I looked. His finger was next to one of the circled words. I muttered a response, and jumped when he yelled at me to speak up. "Can't," I said.

"That's not what it looks like. What does this word say?"

I wrote it to be 'can't', and I didn't know what other word it could be. Genuinely confused, I ran through similar words in my head, and came up blank. What was I missing here? After several moments of silence, he told me to sound it out.

"C...unt?" I said, realizing that my 'a' kind of looked like a 'u'; a quick scan of the page revealed that all the 'can't's were circled, and all of my 'a's looked like 'u's. But what in the hell did 'cunt' mean? Was that even a real word?

"I DON'T EVER WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY THAT WORD AGAIN, AND DON'T YOU DARE BRING HOME ANY MORE PAPERS LIKE THIS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

I was blown away. This must be a bad word. I thought I knew all of those. But as his tirade went on and on, I lost the courage to investigate its meaning, lest I discover and use it correctly.

Of course, years later I learned what that word was, and the different meanings it has. Sometimes, if I'm writing in a rush, I still write my 'a's to look like 'u's, but I always go back and double check it before submitting important documents. Like college essays. Thank goodness I don't write by hand very often!

If any of you have fun word stories to share, I would love to see them! Write 'em in the comments or, if you want, shoot me an email and I can throw them up here as a guest blog post, with link to your blog. :)

Writing Prompts

2012-01-13T09:51:00.000-08:00

I have been seriously slacking in the writing department lately. I could sit here and blame my son, the growing contents of my uterus, the weather, and Yoshi, but how many other people have millions of distractions and still manage to make time for something they enjoy? Lots, and it's about damn time I was one of them. So what I hope you will start seeing here is my take on some writing prompts I find online. When I use one, I will link to the site it's from, so you can take a shot at it, too. It may not be my novella, but hey, I need to write something.

So hold onto your butts, and away we go!

January 2012 Blog Chain: Winter Nightmare

2012-01-12T19:39:00.000-08:00

Oh yes, friends, it's time for another blog chain post! If you missed the last one, here's the deal: I'm on AbsoluteWrite, a website for writers and wanna-bes like myself, and one of the many writing exercises is the blog chain. Participants choose a theme for a month, and everyone writes a blog post on the subject. The links below my post are to the blogs of other participants. Check 'em out, they're awesome!

My winter nightmare includes three of the acronyms listed on the right side of this page: MO, NY, and USN. In the spring, I paid a visit to my long distance boyfriend. He was in the United States Navy, and we lived a few states apart. That boyfriend became my fiance that same spring, as well as the daddy-to-be of the little Kidney Bean stirring around in my belly. With a smile on my face and one suitcase, I graduated college that summer and left behind everything and everyone I knew in MO for the dark and scary world of NY.

I had never been to New York, and the way I imagined it was like a dangerous, more portably hostile place than Texas. I mean, Texans carry guns everywhere, or so the stereotypes say. But they also have that Southern charm, and only use the guns on evil doers who deserve it. Basically, Texans are superheros. But New Yorkers? In my head, I pictured a city covered in trash and graffiti, where even small children walked the streets with knives on their person and would shank you if you stepped in the puddle they wanted to stomp in. A very scary place, indeed.

The summer passed with no shankings, though I still worried. In the fall, I married the poor man who still comes home to me every night that he can. And then we come to winter.

In winter, I was eight months pregnant. I still did not know anyone other than my husband in the area, and was so thankful for how he took care of me. But then his work took him from me. He began working 12 hour rotating shifts, and I only saw enough of him to kiss him hello/goodbye and hand him his bag of food for the day. I was in full panic mode, because I am terrified of being alone at night. I couldn't do it back in MO, and thinking of being alone, in an apartment with no other tenants in the building, set back from the road where it was barely visible, surrounded by trees, next to an empty lot, in New York...I was a mess. Oh, and remember that story about the woman who had her baby taken from her, and the kidnapper fled to NY? That's when I was in NY. My level of terror went up 100%.

One night, I was in the bedroom, and I was trying to fall asleep. It was about 2am, and I had barricaded the bedroom door like I always do. Told you I was scared. Now, the bedroom shared a wall with the kitchen, and the bathroom was on the other side of the kitchen. Yeah, it was a strange set-up. But in the kitchen, I heard a noise. Instantly awake, I listened, and heard it again. It sounded like someone was in the bathroom. My husband wasn't due back for hours, and he would have come in to tell me if he was home early. The noise continued. It sounded like someone had broken in somehow (through the bathroom window, I imagined) and was going through our belongings in the bathroom. I got online and a friend of mine was on facebook. I told her what was going on and that I was scared. She told me to call the cops, but my phone was on the charger in the living room. To get to it, I would have to expose myself to whoever was in my apartment.

The noises moved to the kitchen. They were right next to me now and I was shaking. I had difficulty typing. I had no weapons, and the only thing blocking the door was a metal fan and a pile of empty suitcases. At this point, I wasn't worried about me, just my baby. They could rape me, steal everything I owned, whatever they wanted, as long as they left me alive enough to have my baby and let him be safe before I died. The story of the kidnapped baby lurked in my thoughts: what if this person wanted to cut the baby out of me? What kind of life would my child have? Would he be abused, or well cared for? I couldn't take the chance of him being mistreated. If I was confronted by the stranger in my home, I would do my best to make sure my baby and I survived together, or died together. I would not let him be taken from me.

My laptop charging cord slid off the bed, the large part (what is that called?) hitting the floor with a loud thunk. I froze. Up until then I had been silent but for the clacking of my keyboard. Now, they knew I was here. I waited for the bedroom door to fly open and throw me into a world of pain at the hands of some maniac.

Nothing happened. The noises stopped, and didn't pick up again. I stayed awake and online with that friend for hours, not wanting to leave the bedroom even though it seemed like the danger was gone. When I heard my husband's tires in the driveway (POS car in a gravel driveway - I knew it was him) I almost cried I was so thankful. I heard him walk in and cleared away everything from the door. I told him what had happened, and he walked through and inspected everything. Nothing seemed out of place, and the only exits had been locked from inside. There was no way anyone could have been in the apartment. We both started to think that maybe being alone so much was starting to get to me.

The next night, I decided to go to bed while it was still light out, so I went to the bathroom for the last time. As I sat on that toilet, I worried that tonight I would hear noises again. Was I having auditory hallucinations? Was it our landlord, creeping through our stuff and locking the door behind him when he left? Would they come back tonight, and finish what they had started? So many thoughts slid across my brain and set my heart to pounding. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement by the door of the bathroom.

My heart stopped. I was afraid to look. I couldn't even finish urinating. My entire body just froze. Slowly, I turned my head, scared I would see a muscled man with scars on his face caressing a knife and smiling a promise of pain. I saw nothing. But then, movement again. My eyes drifted down.

Ladies and gentlemen, the cause of my ten hour terror, the thing that made me think about killing someone, forced me to confront my own helplessness and mortality, the reason I made the heartbreaking decision to take my son with me if I was about to die....was a mouse. Yes, it was abundantly clear that the mouse (well, mice, as I later discovered) had been the source of all the commotion in the bathroom and kitchen. What I had heard was the mouse/mice knocking into shampoo bottles that hit the walls, wobbled, and fell to the floor. In the kitchen, they ran through my strainer of clean utensils, jogged laps in my pots, and knocked my non-perishables off the table (the only place to store them - small apartment) to the floor.

My winter nightmare has a rather humorous ending, I know. But at the time, before I knew it was just a creepy rodent, I truly feared for my life. Definitely one of those "look back and laugh at it" stories. Now, head on out of here and check out these other blog chain participants!

Participants and posts:orion_mk3 - http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month's post)
MamaStrong - http://writingofme.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
pyrosama - http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Turndog-Millionaire - http://turndog-millionaire.com/ (link to this month's post)
Alpha Echo - http://aprilplummer81.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
LilGreenBookworm - http://themayhemofwritingsahm-style.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Domoviye - http://lets-get-happy.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
writingismypassion - http://charityfaye.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)kimberlycreates - http://www.kimberlycreates.com/ (link to this month's post)
Suzanne Seese - http://viewofsue.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Diana Rajchel - http://blog.dianarajchel.com/ (link to this month's post)
Ralph Pines - http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
Alynza - http://www.alynzasmith.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Literateparakeet - http://lesliesillusions.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
in_one - http://quirkythomas.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Tomspy77 - http://thomaswillamspychalski.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
Inkstrokes - http://drlong67.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
kiwiviktor81 - http://storygenerator.net/ (link to this month's post)

Guest blogger - Histry Nerd

2012-01-06T08:04:00.000-08:00

So – What Does a Writer’s Day Look Like?
There’s a lot to be said for the security of a solid day job. There’s a lot to be said for having plenty of time to write. Unfortunately, most of us can’t say both at the same time.

My perfect working writer’s day might look something like this:

5:00 AM. Spring out of bed, fully rested and ready to face the day.
6:00 AM. Leave the house, excited to see what the day will bring. No traffic on the way to work.
6:45 AM. Arrive at work and dive into an exciting project.
10:00 AM. Boss praises my work on current project and the last one and says he has something for me when I’m finished.
3:00 PM. Finish project. Boss hands me a nice bonus check.
4:00 PM. Leave work whistling and high-stepping. No traffic on the way home.
5:00 PM. Arrive home. Check mail and find a check for my latest article.
5:05 PM. Greeted by smiling, happy wife and children.
5:15 PM. Deposit checks. Think about how to invest the rest of my income for the month.
5:30 PM. Check email, blog, facebook, etc. Think about setting up a separate inbox for the fan mail. 437 blog comments telling me how brilliant my last post was.
6:30 PM. Supper. Everybody had a great day. Kids give me a fantastic idea for another book.
7:30 PM. Kids wash dishes while I get to work on the great idea.
10:00 PM. Great idea outlined and ready to write. This is going to be the big one!
10:15 PM. Reading a great book. Get another great idea and scribble on a notepad.
10:30 PM. Wife whispers in ear….
12:00 AM. Collapse against pillows, exhausted but excited to see what tomorrow will bring.

Of course, the real thing is usually a little different:

5:00 AM. Alarm goes off. Too tired. Hit snooze.
6:24 AM. Realize I hit off instead of snooze. Roll out of bed and stumble to the shower.
7:00 AM. Leave house. Realize I left my lunch on the counter. Traffic doubles commute time.
8:30 AM. Arrive at work. Slow day. Don’t see boss.
12:00 PM. Lunch at Taco Bell. Hurry so I don’t use more than my 30 minutes. Still no boss.
4:00 PM. Boss comes in with a hot project. Needs it in an hour.
6:30 PM. Finish hot project and slide it under boss’s door. Drag myself to the car.
7:30 PM. Nearly home. Realize I need to buy groceries or we won’t be eating supper. Turn around and pick up pizza.
8:00 PM. Arrive home. Move stack of bills from mailbox to hallway table. Wonder what flavor Ramen we’ll be eating by the end of the month. Notice lunch is still right where I left it.
8:05 PM. Wife had a lousy day. Help her figure out what to do about what happened.
8:30 PM. Check email, blog, facebook, etc. 57 emails. 45 are spam. Nobody read the blog. Again.
8:45 PM. Daughter bubbling with energy. Wants to stand by computer and talk to me. Wants to look at screen saver pictures. Give her some daddy time.
9:00 PM. Daughter goes to bed. Stare at blank page on screen.
9:30 PM. Stare some more. Wonder if coffee would help. Decide it might, but it would also keep me up all night. No coffee.
10:00 PM. Give up. Turn on StumbleUpon.
10:30 PM. Get great idea from cool web site. Looking around for paper when wife calls me to bed.
11:00 PM. Great idea is gone. Wife asks me to scratch her back. Falls asleep before I’m finished.
11:30 PM. Wake up, close book and put it back on the night stand. Can’t remember what I read before I fell asleep. Turn off light.
12:00 AM. Wake up again and turn off TV. Lie there awake.
12:30 AM. Still awake. Check the clock.
1:00 AM. Regret not having that coffee. At least then I’d have an excuse.
2:00 AM. Finally drift off, thinking about how early I have to get up….

Ah, the glamorous life of a writer!
HN

You can find more fabulous writings by Histry Nerd at his blog!

I want to be just like mommy

2012-01-04T05:29:00.000-08:00

Except, mommy writes (usually) intelligible stories comprised of words. She doesn't normally wait until someone does the unthinkable by running to the restroom, sick as a dog, and leaving a notebook with capped pen attached on the top of a computer desk way above her head. Once they have rounded the corner, she doesn't shake the computer desk until said notebook flops to the ground, remove the pen and cap, and set about tattooing her legs.

Apparently, babies do. At least, I suspect that's how he got my notebook from a shelf three times taller than him. When I finally emerged from the bathroom (I was blowing my nose, I'm being attacked by a virus), he ran up to me and handed me the pen, and said "Better?" No, not better at all, but very cute.

"But wait, I thought you said this blog would be about your writing, not stories about your son. You lied to us! How can we ever trust you again?!"

Now, now, calm down. There is a writing tie-in, I promise: my pen is not out of ink, and though I tried to write with his leg, it didn't work.

And so another day goes by without pen to paper or hands to keyboard. Le sigh.

I.P. Freely

2011-12-29T21:58:00.000-08:00

Hey, I couldn't think of a better title. If you can, leave a comment, and I'll change it. :)

Why am I not my normal witty self tonight? I've been writing.

Woah now, don't pass out! I know it's rare that I actually get to post about writing in my writing blog, but yes, it has now happened. I have decided to quit listening to the "great ideas" my preggo brain keeps giving me and just sit down and write already. Right now I'm sitting at 573 words...or 571 and two symbols. I don't want to do chapters, so I decided to just do sections separated by a symbol. The novella (yes, that's where I decided to go) is about death. The symbol I'm using? Infinity. Is this clever or just plain dumb? Again, comment and tell me your thoughts!

What does the title have to do with anything? Well, in writing those words and symbols, I had to stop and pee twice. Was it the water I drank or some kind of pregnancy symptom finally showing up? No idea. But it's frustrating to look at a computer screen through floating yellow eyes on the first time in weeks I have the time and inclination to write. I put it off as long as I could, knowing that one acknowledging one flow would throw off the other, but eventually I just didn't have a choice.

So now here I sit, learning to fall in love with the main character of the first novella, Steve. No, not Luther, Reginald, or whatever the girl's name was (I have CRS...ask me if you don't know what that is). Steve. His story is told first, and that will not change. I refuse to let any more changes deter me from writing. I want to have at least one novella belted out before I become a mommy of two. There's no time for the "oh, but what about this idea...maybe it would work better if I added an elephant...maybe I should write from the perspective of a shoe..." or whatever else my warped mind thinks up. I will take this journey with Steve and see where it takes me...and try not to cry when I have to write where it eventually takes him.

And the truth comes out

2011-12-28T05:15:00.000-08:00

Faithful blog readers, I have been neglecting you, and I apologize. You see, there's been a lot going on, but it's deeply personal and I haven't been able to post it. Until now.

Family has been notified so now it is your turn, dear readers: soon I will have double the amusing stories to tell. Yes, that's right, there's a bun in my oven and it'll be baking for the next eight months.

Now, do you see why this could be distracting? I haven't been able to write anything but to-do lists, and those just aren't very exciting. Who wants to read "call and cancel cable...no, that has to wait until we move...when are we moving? oh it doesn't matter, we have to get taxes to pay the fee anyway...when is his tax form thing coming in? how long did it take last year? what if we end up owing something? then I can't move home! Hey, are we out of barbecue sauce? Get barbecue sauce." And yes, my to-do lists often end up as a written argument with myself. And then I realize that I can't do Y until X has been done, so that order has to be reversed, and then I make a whole new list in the order it needs to be done, only to realize two hours later that R needs to happen between Y and X...you get the point. I have good intentions with lists, they just never work out.

So yes, I have one month to plan out the next nine months of my life, which involve moving out of one house, moving into another in a different time zone, navigating an airport with a two year old while pregnant, canceling utilities and such from the house we're leaving, investigating storage units for our things, facing my husband deploying and being gone during the pregnancy, flying back here before the birth to find a new place to live, moving in and getting settled, flying back there, having the baby, hoping my two year old doesn't throw the new baby down the stairs like he does everything else, trying to navigate an airport with a two year old, a newborn, and a freshly stitched up stomach, and trying not to lose my mind during any of it.

Now more than ever, I want to write my novel. If I can get one done and submitted and, hopefully, it gets picked up by someone, that'll be a hell of a motivation to keep going with it. But will I be able to write with another child needing attention? Guess we'll find out in a few months!

Vote on my intro

2011-12-23T08:52:00.000-08:00

Okay guys, I lied last time. I still don't know what the hell to do with this story. I know my characters, I know their stories, and I know the world. But how do I get it on paper? How much of the society changes do I show? Do I need more technology since it's a few hundred years in the future (hubby thinks yes) or is it good enough to just focus on the technology that applies to the story and not worry about answering every single question the reader might have about other advancements? Or is that rude? See, I'm lost here. So I turn to you, faithful readers, to give me your opinion. What I'm going to do is post a brief summary of each version, and see which one would make you read more, and which would have you heading for the outhouse hoping the pages are soft.

In each of the stories, the main problem is a "curse" that has effected the men in society, so the men and how they encounter and deal with the curse is the main focus. The way I have it set up now, the Curse has brought technology to a screeching halt in 2014, and the main advancements have been in areas directly relating to the Curse. Am I obligated to talk about technology related to oranges if my story only focuses on feet? Anyway, here's the options battling in my head.

Version 1. This version started out as a romance novel, following Luther and Olivia from the night she conceives their child to the moment of his death a few months later.

Version 2. A more light-hearted, less sappy romantic version, where we follow Luther and throw Olivia away. She's still involved, since they are married, but the focus is on Luther the majority of the time.

Version 3. In this version, we see the men on the 300 year anniversary of the end of the Curse. Society has drastically changed and so has technology. One of the ways it has changed is like a holographic version of a Ouija board has been invented, and will be used for the first time on such an important day to summon the last dozen men to be effected by the Curse. The hope is that the men will share their stories (first person, this time) and give a better understanding of their history to everyone in the auditorium watching live, and the viewers at home. This would mean I have characters that died in the 2200s relating their story to anonymous people in the 2500s. Hubs says this would mean I have to give an explanation of the afterlife if I'm bringing dead people in to speak. I don't really want to do that, and thought it might work to have the speaker introducing the first man throw in a warning that they are not allowed to discuss anything about the afterlife, and each man politely add his own emphasis to that rule. This would make it just one book, instead of following each man in a separate novel(la).

Why no posts?

2011-12-20T08:43:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know, my posts went from one a day to "is she ever going to write again?". Lots of things happening over here, but we'll save that for another post. ;)

I'm sure you won't be surprised that I haven't been able to do any read writing, when I can't even update my blog. What's the hold up? My husband is on vacation. Now, before any of you with dirty minds start giggling, here's what him being home 24/7 means:

-more laundry. From barbecue sauce to baby pee, we are hell on clothes, and hubby being home fills the laundry hamper twice as quickly.

-more cooking. Usually I don't cook breakfast or lunch for kiddo or I. I mean, we eat, but I don't go all out. Throw me a Pop Tart and kiddo some instant (sugar free) oatmeal and we're good. With hubby home, I'm making bacon, scrambled eggs, coffee...and lunches are the same. Now, cooking doesn't seem like it would take up much time, so let's run through the average session, shall we?
     -hubs asks for bacon and eggs, so I decide to be nice and make it for him and kiddo.
     -kiddo steals the bacon package off the counter while I hunt for the scissors because the "easy open" tab is not.
     -play Marco Polo with bacon, find it in the bathroom sink.
     -preheat oven, which activates kiddo's "there's something I need to mess with" radar, and then play goalie for the next 15 minutes while he tries to touch the oven he knows is hot.
     -finally convince him to sit down at his table to color, and I start the eggs while the bacon is in the oven. I'm a wuss, I don't like the popping, so I cook the bacon in the oven. Sue me. :D
     -Look over and see that kiddo is being very secretive. Go to see what he has: the 0 key, from my laptop, which he has apparently opened and removed in the .2 seconds I didn't have both eyes on him.
     -Take back the key, put it on the laptop where it belongs, and return to the stove. The eggs are now stuck to the bottom of the pan and not scrambled at all, more like a solid mass like those ones from breakfast sandwiches, know what I mean?
     -Meanwhile, the bacon has burned, since I had to run to kiddo and convince him that the blinds were okay white and didn't need the pink stripes he was trying to add.
     -Take out the bacon, scrape out as much of the egg conglomeration as I can. Put food on plates just as a still sleepy hubby stumbles down stairs and into the kitchen.
     -Set food in front of boys. Hubby grunts and eats half before giving up in favor of a Pop Tart. Kiddo throws his bacon on the floor and rubs the eggs in his hair.

Rinse and repeat similar scenes throughout the day. It's chaos, but it's so nice having the family together all the time. It definitely throws off the writing routine I've been trying to keep when naptime for kiddo still leaves hubby to entertain, instead of just opening up the laptop and pounding away on whatever keys kiddo hasn't removed yet.

December 2011 Blog Chain

2011-12-17T21:22:00.000-08:00

See those little links on the right side of the screen? One of them is to AbsoluteWrite, an amazing website for authors (and wanna-be's like myself) to gather and find support, laughter, and critiques. There are also many writing exercises, and one of them is to write a blog about a holiday memory/story. So here we go!

What I'd like to take a moment to discuss is a very important three-day weekend in my life that only shows up once a year. It's the weekend before Christmas, and every year we risk our lives and stomachs by participating in a cookie baking marathon.

I had some friends drop me off for Cookie Baking Weekend (yes, it's so important I capitalized it) one year, and they didn't believe it was quite the level of madness I said it was. They walked into my aunt's house with me and saw her sitting at the head of the table. In front of her was a bottle of wine, a bottle of beer, a bottle of water, a 2 liter of Pepsi, and a cup of coffee. She looked at me and said, "Are you ready for this?" And my friends stared in awe at the mountains of 5lb bags of flour and sugar, the dozens of eggs, the boxes of stick butter, spatulas and cookie sheets everywhere. And in the center of the table was Grandma's recipe box and cookbook, the holy mecca of all things delicious.

For the first night, we would decide what to make. This involved a lot of math, and math is hard. So I just looked at the cookie pictures and drooled. Then it was time to decide the order of cookies: which had to be chilled over night, which for a few hours, which didn't need refrigeration, which needed refrigeration then forming then another session in the cold, which needed to be baked and which didn't...so very many decisions to be made.

The second day usually involved two of us going to the store for the ingredients we forgot or ran out of, while the other two baked, rolled dough, mixed, and floured like our lives depended on it.

The third day was the frantic "It has to be done today or the world ends" day. Somehow we almost always managed to avoid the apocalypse.

As much fun as the days filled with cookie dough eating, flour fights, and random spurts of sleep-deprived laughter were, it was always the nights I loved best. In the night, we talked. The exhaustion from the day wearing us down, we sat around the table and just talked about whatever was on our minds. Some of us had a beer, some of us were underaged so we had soda, but it didn't matter. We left behind the laughter of the sun and sat in the moonlight nursing our sodas and remembered the family members who had passed on before us. Smiles were fleeting as we remembered their love and tried to cover the hurt in our hearts not to have them with us. We talked of our longing to have them back in our arms, and of days gone by. And one by one, we trudged off to bed.

I can't speak for them, but what I dreamed was the one time I know for a fact I let my grandpa down. Before he died, he asked me to bake cookies with him, and I agreed. But then, faced with getting up on a Saturday after a week of school before it was even light out, I balked. I lied and said I was sick so I could sleep in. It was our last xmas together, and the memory haunts me to this day. Such a precious memory I missed out on, for being so selfish. I remember it at every holiday, every mention of his name, and every time I make coffee.

Now, guys I'm sorry to get so sad on ya tonight. I can't seem to help it. I tried writing this blog five tiems and it always ended up this way, so it must be meant to be. Please enjoy, for what it's worth, and please check out the other people who have posted a blog on this topic from AbsoluteWrite, links to which are found here:

Participants and posts:orion_mk3 - http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month's post)
Ralph Pines - http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
pyrosama - http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
AbielleRose - http://stainedglassinthenight.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
writingismypassion - http://charityfaye.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Domoviye - http://lets-get-happy.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Areteus - http://lurkingmusings.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
Alynza - http://www.alynzasmith.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
SuzanneSeese - http://www.viewofsue.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
robeiae - http://thepondsofhappenstance.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
MamaStrong - http://inamamasworld.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
kimberlycreates - http://www.kimberlycreates.com/ (link to this month's post)
darnzen - http://writelydone.com/blogs/darnzen (link to this month's post)
LilGreenBookworm - http://themayhemofwritingsahm-style.blogspot.com/ that's me!
Cath - http://blog.cathsmith.com/ (link to this month's post)
AuburnAssassin - http://clairegillian.com/ (link to this month's post)
Diana Rajchel - http://blog.dianarajchel.com/ (link to this month's post)
SinisterCola - http://acgatesblog.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)

The house

2011-12-16T23:28:00.000-08:00

I feel terrible to have left my wonderful followers sitting in front of their computer screens, gnawing their fingernails to the nubs and beyond as they have anxiously awaited a new post for two whole days. My deepest apologies go out to the four of you. Really.

I can't talk about what prevented writing time yesterday, but today I most certainly can. To an extent. Interested? Good, then you'll come back and read more!

Today was a crazy day. Mini-Me has been absolutely bonkers today and I don't have a clue why. None of his toys provided any sort of comfort or distraction, he ate like he'd never seen food before, and the house (and car) were filled with nothing but his screams today. I did the rounds and made sure nothing was hurting him, he was just determined to throw tantrums all night. It took from 6:30 til 10ish to get him to sleep, with him fighting and crying about it all the way. So, naturally I got no writing done during that.

But part of being a stay at home mom is the home part, and that's what the big distraction has been today. My kitchen sink's garbage disposal is busted, and I believe the pipes are clogged. I've already tried putting on my big girl panties and sticking my hand in the disposal to get out everything, but there's nothing there. The reset button does nothing, and I can't find where to insert the allen wrench thing. So my genious-self loads up the dishwasher...and watches as it backs up into my kitchen sink. Gross.

Then hubby comes down, says the toilet upstairs is overflowing and he can't get it to stop. So he watches kiddo and I try to do some damage control. It took six towels and a half an hour of mopping to get up all the water that overflowed, and the toilet is still clogged, despite my expert plunging abilities. The toilet keeps running unless I hold the chain up, and since maintenence didn't feel the need to come out today I had to figure something out or get into shape so I could wear a bikini in my new in-home ocean, conveniently without sand to slip into inconvenient places. So right now, I've rigged a coat hanger to hold the chain up. Is that weird? Probably. Does it work? Hell yes!

Let's add in some family drama, a generous squirt of lemon juice directly into my eye (figureatively speaking) and my decision to join the circus (I've been jumping through hoops to get medical care so long I figure Ringling Brothers would loooove to have me) and it's just been a glorious day.

But while I was bashing my head against the wall, I did have a thought about my story. Remember how I told myself "Okay, just write Luther's story, and we'll go from there"? Well, my self didn't listen, and since I've spent so much time on Luther and he's in his own little tantrum stage, I think I'm going to focus my attention on Reginald for a bit. I am not totally familiar with his story yet, so maybe it will help to write something new, instead of Luther's story for the eighth time. We shall see.

How to write with a screaming toddler

2011-12-14T17:40:00.000-08:00

Step 1: Try not to pee pants when toddler transforms from sleeping angel to screaming hyena-banshee-high school cheerleader hybrid.

Step 2: Hold out arms to encourage toddler to "come to mommy". Wait patiently while toddler stumbles over, shrieking all the way.

Step 3: Set laptop on floor in front of you (since you didn't want to sit in the creaking chair in case it woke him) and pull toddler into your lap.

Step 4: Murmur words of love and comfort that can't be heard over his wails. Have some fun with this: "It's okay my little banana split....I love you, cake topper....roses are red, violets are blue, now mommy feels like screaming too..."

Step 5: Watch as toddler's limbs begin to flail. Attempt to move your laptop out of harm's way, but quickly put your hand back to work rubbing circles on his back when he screams at the loss of contact.

Step 6: Plead with <insert diety of your choice> to make it stop. Suppress the urge to unleash your sailor's mouth when <insert diety of your choice> doesn't seem to care.

Step 7: Encourage use of "big boy words" to tell you what is wrong. Wish you had a translator to find out what the heck he says.

Step 8: This is the stage of defeat. You have confirmed that the child is not being eaten by an alligator, and everything else checks out a-ok. It is quite clear by now that your child simply wants your attention, so the writing on your screen can't have it.

Step 9: Tell toddler that mommy is going to put him down so she can put the laptop up somewhere safe. Pray ear drums do not explode from resulting hissy fit.

Step 10: Delete the random letters/numbers/symbols pressed by slapping hands and kicking feet. Giggle inside that he accidently typed "ass".

Step 11: Return from ensuring laptop safety to find the child totally immersed in his favorite toy. Turn to fetch a notebook and stop in two steps, when he rams into your legs and prevents you from climbing the gate.

Step 12: Remember you love him and decide to try again the next day.

A decision, at last!

2011-12-13T09:04:00.000-08:00

I bet you guys are tired of my wishy-washy ways, right? Well, then rejoice, friends, for with the help of a stranger I've made a decision.

Molly's story: good, but not really part of this series. She just doesn't fit in with the others, and using her as a cop-out didn't feel right, so she's off on her own. Maybe another day her story will go somewhere, but for now, she's just going to have to wait.

Luther's story: I know that novellas aren't as marketable, but that's where I feel most confident, so I'm going for it. More than likely he will end up as an e-book instead of a print book, but hey, the environment will be happy, and I can always POD for family/friends. I'm not writing for money, so if nobody wants it, that's ok, because I will. I write because I enjoy it and it would be nice if someone who loves reading as much as I do liked my writing.

The other men: I'm going to write their novellas, as well. BUT, Luther first. Two people have told me that publishers are reluctant to take on a whole series from a no-name little nobody like me, which is totally understandable, so it would be best to just submit Luther and if he takes off, well, then I already have more stories in the works. But he needs to be on his own at first.

Now, to cut down Luther's story and get it finished. I think the major cuts are going to be cutting out the scene with the men's stories -that'll take away roughly 13k words -and everything in Olivia's POV. Olivia is his wife, not sure if I mentioned that. Really the only thing we've seen from her is how she's dealing with her pregnancy symptoms, but honestly, we all know about pregnancy. What I want to see is how Luther is handling everything. His responses are the part that's new and different, not hers.

At least, this all sounded good at midnight as I slept in a toddler bed with no pillow and half of a blanket since kiddo has taken over my bed.

Decisions, decisions - oh how I suck at making them

2011-12-12T08:32:00.000-08:00

When I set out to tackle NaNoWriMo, the goal was pretty clear: write a novel that was at least 50k words, edit the heck out of it, make it pretty, send it out, and wait for someone to realize how awesome it was and give me millions of hard earned dollars. That's realistic, right? ;)

But then, I hit 45k, and my story stopped. Oh, it's not finished, not even close -I still have a whole trimester to get through. My characters sat down, looked and me, and said, "And then what happened?" My brain pulled its finger out of its nose and said, "What?"

As I struggled through those last 5k words, I started to think back over what I had so far, and my goal changed. My main character's name is Luther, and he's going to die. He knows it, so he joins a support group for other men facing their own mortality. The first meeting, they go around the circle and tell a bit of what lead their butts to those chairs. There were 12 other men present, and each one told me a story between 1 and 1.5k words. It might not seem like much, but those little blurbs were deeply emotional and very difficult to write. So when I hit that block, my mind went back to them.

Maybe it would be cool to turn each of those men's stories into a novella. There is so much more depth to those stories than their chapters allowed for, and it feels wrong not to stand by their suffering and show the world who they are. Luther's story, the one I wrote for NaNoWriMo, follows his life from the moment his death is assured to the moment it happens. I wanted to do the same for each of the 12 other men. I fell in love with all of them. So, that was the new goal: I was finished with NaNoWriMo and would use Luther's 50k, edit it down to novella length, and then write the other books. And then I'd throw in a prequel, explaining how much society had changed (and why) between now and their time -250 years in the future.

I got all excited about this idea, thinking I could someday be the published author of a series, instead of just one book. Surely, this was the better idea. But then I started thinking with something other than my heart and realized how unlikely such a think was to work out. You see, each of those men have a very, very different story. Luther's story is a love story: him and his wife know he's going to die, and though there are multiple ways he could chose to survive or be unfaithful to her, he stands by her side and doesn't take the measures that would save his life, knowing how much they would hurt his wife. But there are other stories, like Jack and Caleb who share a story: both are victims and not sure which, if either, of them will die, since their abuser is on the run. Their story is about youthful love/lust, betrayal, hurt, friendship, terror, etc. That is quite different than a "love you forever and ever" sappy love story.

So, I took a chance and got that mentor I mentioned before. I spilled most of the big details of what I had done, and what I was attempting to do. He made a good point I hadn't thought of: if each one of these novellas falls into a different category, it's going to make it very difficult to publish them as a series. Someone that is a huge fan of romance novels is not going to want to read the story of an old man facing his mortality and trying to decide which is worse: dementia, or death. Each story is just so different I'm not sure the same audience would exist for them, or the same publisher.

What do I do now? The advice I was given is a good one: write Luther's story. It's a good, solid story, and might even do well in the big bad world. So that's the new goal.

I'm not going to lie though, not letting the others have their moment is hard to give up. I know it's not logical at all and probably a really bad idea, but...well, here's my guilty little secret: I still want to do the series of novellas. Maybe they'll have no chance of getting picked up, but shouldn't I be writing for me and not the market anyway? I feel these are stories that need to be told, and getting them out the way I need to should take precedence over the slight chance someone will pick up Luther's novel and not toss it in the outhouse. I would love to be a traditionally published author, though I'm not going to claim it's always been a dream (I have always been more reader than writer), but when it comes down to it, I'd rather write what I love and know I can do. Luther's story is still simmering back burner, with no progress since I hit the 50k.

I just don't know what to do. I feel like I should walk away from all of it right now and come back later...but what do I do until then?

The excitement of it all

2011-12-11T09:31:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, I was laying on the couch with kiddo trying to convince him that a nap would not make his internal organs implode and forever render him incapable of watching and/or playing with his trucks again. He still doesn't believe me.

Anywho, so my phone rings, and I curse the gods and instruct kiddo to once again not repeat anything mommy says. It's a number that's not familiar to me, but sometimes my husband calls from other people's phones so I always answer. It was Mr. Blah from BlahBlah Publishing. Instant rush. And then, suspicion. I hadn't approached any publishers...in fact, outside of a few friends, nobody even knew what the hell I was writing, so why would a publisher contact me? I keep my info pretty private online as well, I wondered how this guy even got my number. As I was about to (politely, of course) ask these questions, my little man grabbed the phone and hung up. Later detective work proved his instincts were correct, but still, it was exciting for a few minutes. It was really thrilling thinking that maybe word of my plot had leaked out and someone thought it was so amazing they wanted first dibs. But I guess that's how they get noobs like me, eh?

In other news, here's something exciting: I found a writing mentor. I had/have a million and one questions about my novel is particular, and the writing industry in general, so I am super happy to have someone knowledgeable in my corner. Plus, he likes my humor, and you just can't beat that. I had a long talk with them and has some very important questions answered. I think I know the path I need to be on now.

The best part? That path already has 50k words. It's not finished yet, and will need a ton of revisions to get where it needs to be, but thanks to my mentor and the wonderful folks at AW (check out the link on the right) I have confidence it will get there.

What's that smell?

2011-12-09T10:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, so now that I've warned you all about my potential absence, here's the real blog for today.

Every Thursday my hubby has agreed to dropping me and a friend off at a local library and watching our little minion while I attempt to write. Clearly writing during the day is not working for me, so I was eager to get started.

Obstacle one: My laptop was attacked by Trojans in the morning, so I couldn't use it to write. I tend to prefer typing, just because I like to close my eyes and picture the scene, letting the words flow through my fingers and being confident I won't have many typos. I'm a giant nerd, I don't have to see the keyboard to type since I'm online so often. Luckily, I had purchased a few notebooks not long ago, so I was able to just bring one of those to the library.

Obstacle two: Although my son is capable of speech, he's not up to adult conversations yet, so when I get out of the house with someone who isn't wearing diapers and running in circles yelling, "Truck! Truck!" I get carried away with the gab-fest. Thankfully I have a great friend who puts up with all my strange conversations! And, being in a library, we couldn't talk too much. You know, the whole "Shh!" thing.

Obstacle three: There was a gentleman a few tables down who must have downed a ten pound burrito before showing up to watch youtube videos at the library. The first flatulent explosion could have been an embarassing accident, especially since he tried to cover it with a cough. But then he giggled. Every time he let 'er rip, people laughed. Now, I couldn't smell a thing: living with two boys with raging butt-trumpets burned up my nose powers long ago. What I was bothered by was the laughter. Why? Well, that brings us to the next section! Whee!

Obstacle four: I had to write a rape scene last night. Trying to put myself in the mind of a 17 year old girl who is being forced to lose her virginity by her mother's boyfriend is a very, very difficult task. She's terrified, she's desperate, can't believe what is happening to her. And people around me are laughing. I stopped describing the scene before I had to get into the nitty gritty details, but the events leading up to it and being in her mind as she realized what him following her to her room meant were hard enough. I wanted to cry with her as she gathered up the sheets after he left and tried to figure out if she should tell her mom, or anyone, what had happened while she put them in the washer. And people are laughing.

Oh, karma...

2011-12-09T09:06:00.000-08:00

I was talking to my dad on the phone a few days ago when he discovered his home computer had been beaten up by some nasty viruses. An insane amount of money later he was good to go, but not before I lectured him on his choice of anti-virus software. Mine has never allowed anything that bad to happen, I told him, why haven't you ever listened to me and installed mine? It's even free!

What happened yesterday? My computer was attacked. Guess I shouldn't have berated my dad quite so much, eh?

Thanks to FINALLY being able to complete a system restore, I might be ok, but if you don't see updates here then just assume I'm sitting in a dark room staring at my lifeless computer and rocking back and forth.

I think I can, I think I can

2011-12-07T08:38:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I look at my son and all those typical "I love you so much, I'd die for you, I'm so blessed to have you in my life" feelings come oozing out of every pore. And other times, I look at him and think "When are you going to start eating more oatmeal than you wear?"

Every morning after breakfast, we sit down and watch a cartoon or two together. Niether of us are morning people, so it takes us awhile to wake up. Due to his current obsessions, we either watch All About Monster Trucks or The Little Engine that Could. Since the monster trucks one makes him want to bash trucks into my laptop, I usually put on the "train show", as he calls it. There's a song in the "train show" that I believe is called Little Me, Big Dreams. One of the lines is "Little me, big dreams, I can be whoever I believe".

I think I'm adopting it as my theme song, at least for the writing portion of my life. I believe I can do this, and if I think I can hard enough, I will. It doesn't matter that the mountain (of work) is huge and going to be difficult to climb. I want this, and I will make it. Screw the chicken nuggets, the trucks on my keyboard, the "hey mom I found this new toilet brush, this is for my hair right?" moments, I'm going to kick this mountain right in its stones. And it starts tomorrow.

Writing rocks, but do I?

2011-12-06T08:16:00.000-08:00

I am a good writer. I know this. Writing has always been the only place I excell, and over the years I've received awards, positive feedback from my peers, and the respect/encouragement of my teachers. In 5th grade, I convinced a couple of my friends to start a 5th grade newspaper with me. A group of kids who didn't like us made a rival newspaper, and I'm happy to report that it was mine everyone read and enjoyed. The same year, I created a book of my poetry and had it bound, designed a cover, etc. My teacher was very impressed (and not just "oh look a child doing something that is cute because they are young but if they were a year older I'd smack them upside the head for being stupid" impressed).

I've been included in several literary magazines from my high school and both colleges. My poem about September 11th was published in a real anthology. I worked on the school paper at my second college, and people actually read my articles and talked about them (there were only a few hundred people going to school in a very small town: by the time the papers came out most things were old news). For years I was on a writing website for poetry and short stories and, although it was pretty much just a bunch of teenagers saying, "Oh I liked this!" or "this sux" I was proud to win each contest, get applause, and have those comments, positive or not.

So I know that I am capable of writing something that will pull you in and completely absorb you. Or at least, in my mind, I am. I don't mean to sound conceited or anything, because if you knew me you'd know that I have zero self-esteem. But I have to cling to the 'knowledge' that I am a good writer or, well, what the hell else can I do in life?

I have the talent, but do I have the will? Ah, there it is, my biggest obstacle: myself. What is my biggest fear? Being judged and worse, rejected. If I throw myself into these novellas and fall in love with them, and the critics use them as toilet paper and send them back postage due, it would kill me. I don't have that thick skin people keep telling me I need. Naturally, I'm trying to develop it, because I know that saying "This needs work" is not the equivalent of "You useless human being why are you wasting my time with such obvious trash?", but that is how it would feel to me. I believe this is why I'm lagging so much in actually starting the writing process: the sooner I begin, the sooner I get rejected.

To fix this, I joined a writing forum where they won't pussy-foot around with me. If it sucks, they'll tell me, and I will learn to accept hearing it. I also have a very good friend of mine who has agreed to accepting my presence at a weekly writing adventure. Once a week we'll head to the library and try to write something people want to read. Spending the gas money to get there and the time away from my boys knowing that soon enough our little family will be parted for a very long time is hopefully enough to make me work to justify it all.

Double vision

2011-12-04T09:12:00.000-08:00

I was getting ready for high school one day, and as usual running late. As I was putting in my contact lenses my mother yelled that the bus was at the previous stop and if I missed it she wasn't driving me to school. It was an idle threat, but rolling up to school with my mommy would have killed my image, so I ran out the door. I almost ran into the bus, because my vision all of a sudden went totally wonky. I figured I had lost one of the lenses on my dash out of the house, but when I started poking at my eye on the bus, I felt the contact in my eye. It was very weird: I had my contacts in, why couldn't I see out of one eye? When we got to school we hit the bathroom to find out what the heck the deal was. I popped the contact out of my left eye...and then pulled another lens out of the same eye! Thinking maybe I had put the right lens in the left eye I checked, and there was also a lens in my right eye. It was a very strange experience, wearing double lenses in one eye.

Last night, I started the second (or third, if I do a prequel) planned novella of my 13 book series. I haven't finished the first. Starting a new story with the new character felt like that day in high school: it was just uncomfortable having two unfinished stories floating around. The two characters are very different; can I do them justice writing at the same time, or will the voices get mixed up? Am I doing the right thing by writing the stories the way I am, or should I just throw them all together in one novel as originally planned?

So many questions! But, folks, this will be a short blog today. The child is playing jump rope with my hair, or at least attempting to. I can't wait to get it all cut off today (thank you, Locks of Love, for the free haircut!).

The obstacles we don't expect

2011-12-03T09:22:00.000-08:00

There are many things I have learned to expect when I sit down and attempt to write. I know my concentration will suffer because of the gunshots filling the room from my husband's xbox game, and the toddler throwing a tantrum and yelling "COOKIE!" while rolling around the living room floor. I have been forced to accept that writing after the boys are peacefully sleeping usually just makes me jealous of the z's floating above their heads so I never write as long as I plan.

But it's the things I don't plan for that kick my butt. I went to the doctor recently, and they ran some standard tests on me, more to get my money than to check my health, I suspect. Unfortunately, the test showed a nasty little surprise, so I am officially going to be medicated for a week. Longer if the medicine ninjas can't kick this infection's pirate butt.

Side effects of the medicine may include all sorts of yummy bodily functions (don't they all?), but some fun new ones, too.

     Loss of concentration: Oh yeah, that won't effect my writing at all...hey, there's a butterfly in here! How'd that happen?

     Loss of coordination: I fall down the stairs at least once a week, how will I be able to tell if I get this? So if this blog gets neglected for a few weeks/months, just assume I've managed to break something by randomly running into walls.

     Fatigue: Hello there, old friend. I haven't seen you since yesterday.

This is going to be so awesome!

Motivation

2011-12-02T12:02:00.000-08:00

In high school, the teacher would call my attention from the cute boy sitting beside and say, "Okay everyone, I am assigning an 8 million word essay on every moment of your mother's pregnancy with you, from the time she conceived to the instant you were born." I would start to panic, and she would add, "This will be due in a month."

A month? That was forever away! Surely I didn't have to start writing it today...

I would get home, and my mother would say, "I'm going out of town in a week. I'll be gone for two months and won't have any way of communicating with you, so the neighbors will be checking in." Already having forgotten about the essay, I would immediately focus on the fact that she would be gone and mentally plot all sorts of mischeif to engage in with my friends.

Four weeks later, the teacher would remind us the essay was due the next day. Now it was panic time. Frantic phone calls, emails, texts, and smoke signals went unanswered. I couldn't even remember where she went, so I couldn't just fly there, although I was desperate enough to rob a bank and do it. In the end, you would find me typing in the library before school started, one eye on the clock and the other open to a blog from seventeen years ago that my mother had probably forgotten about where she talked about her pregnancy. Thank God for Google! And in two weeks, the paper was returned, and I would get an A.

To say that I work well under pressure is a huge understatement. Having a deadline and consequences (like flunking a class and having the world's suspicions of my loser-status confirmed) was often the only thing motivating me to get a project or paper done. Now that I'm attempting to write again, I don't have that pressure. It's way too easy to convince myself to change a deadline, even if I set one.

"Okay, self, you have one episode of Wonder Pets! to get 500 words. And...GO!" And I will stare at the screen for five minutes, get on Facebook, and tell my nagging conscience that I didn't say which episode. There is no agent texting me every day and saying if I'm not done in a week he won't publish me, and will tell all of the other agents that I eat my own boogers. Not reaching my daily word goals will only disappoint myself, and I'm used to that, so it's not much motivation. I need some sort of tangible goal I can strive for that won't change.

That is why NaNoWriMo worked so well for me: someone gave me a goal and wouldn't listen to me whining that 32k was just as good as 50k. I need someone to threaten to egg my house or blow up the local Taco Bell to motivate me to actually do something. Or I could just put on my big girl panties and write already.

And for the record...none of the above story about the essay and my mother was true. She never goes anywhere, ever, doesn't remember anything about my birth or events leading to it, has no idea what blogging is, and although it may have felt like it at times I was never required to write 8 million words in one essay.

NaNoWriMo 2011

2011-12-01T16:50:00.000-08:00

November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I participated in 2005, hit the 50k goal, finished my story, and realized that my creativity circuit board was totally fried. I hated what I had written so much that I couldn't bring myself to write anything else, fearing that it too would be utter trash.

For the most part, I avoided creative writing until October 2011. It was NaNoWriMo planning time, and I decided to go for it. I had an idea, I sketched out a plot, knew my characters every way but biblically, and set out on the writing adventure. I knew there would be many challenges in writing so much in such a short time (50,000 words in 30 days), but I honestly thought the biggest issue would be time. Who has it these days? Certainly not me.

Oh, how wrong I was! My biggest challenge was my son. He didn't want me to write, and he did his best to make sure I didn't. Kiddo quickly learned that when mommy brought out the laptop, he wasn't getting play time with her. At first he just cried, then he moved to saying "no!" when he saw it, and finally decided I wasn't getting his subtlety and pushed my laptop screen closed. When he was feeling more beligerent, he would headbutt it closed, or bite the top of it. When he dumped his plate of chicken nuggets on the keyboard, I decided to try writing in a notebook.

When I got the notebook out, he stole my pen and drew on his hands. He also bit the wire spirals. So I tried writing while he was taking a bath, hoping he'd be so distracted with his bath toys he wouldn't be mad at me writing. (Disclaimer: my eyes were on him the entire time, he was in no danger of drowning and I wasn't neglecting him). I was wrong: he dumped a cup of bathwater all over my notebook.

Desperate for a way to write without being sabotaged, I worked my butt off to wear him out during the day so that I could get him an earlier bed time and write while he was asleep. Now, my little man has a hard time sleeping if I'm not right next to him, so I would sit next to his slumbering body and frantically type to get in the daily word count goals. But the noise of the keys clicking away bothered him, so he woke up often. One night, he actually stayed asleep, but after a few hundred words his foot was on my laptop keyboard! I gently moved it aside, and in another few words it was back. I moved further away, he woke up. I got him back to sleep by moving closer, and the foot came back.

It really is a miracle I finished my 50k words.

What to expect from this blog

2011-12-01T15:16:00.000-08:00

Personal stories: Did you note the title of the blog? I'm a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) and my son is an extremely energetic, curious, opinionated little boy. His antics will be related here, but only when they have something to do with my writing. Just because I think it's cute when he blows his nose does not mean that you will, so unless he's using my manuscripts to catch his snot you won't find that story here.

Humor: I'm a sarcasm-addict, and I can't always suppress it, so I'm sure it will shine on many posts. Plus, if there's a story about my son, chances are it will be funny to someone, even if it isn't to me.

Errors/slang: My professional work will not have those issues, but this blog will. Often I will be writing a blog entry while folding laundry, making lunch for my son, or trying to convince him that peas are not meant to be used as shampoo. If I have time, I will come back and edit, but what you will find here is very casual.

My struggles/goals/success stories: This is meant to focus mainly on my writing; my kiddo and SAHM-life are just a fun diversion. I welcome followers as I (hopefully) move from casual blogger (bloggist?) to published novelist.

Quotes: I love quotes. Sometimes, if I come across one that inspires me, I'll share it.

Me: A twenty-something, SAHM, aspiring author, loving daughter/sister/cousin/wife, friend, and avid reader. Like everyone else, I have many faces, and I'm sure that from time to time each one will peek out. Feel free to contact me with any questions!