When I close my eyes I can see the finished product. My first complete novel in all it's glory. And I am motivated. For now anyway. My goal is to have it finished before the end of my novel class. Actually, I plan to have it finished by the end of November so that I can rest over Christmas and then look at it again with fresh eyes, in the New Year. Make all the changes that I think it needs and then send it off to...no not a publisher...my first reader. A good writer friend of mine in Toronto has agreed to read the draft and offer all his words of wisdom. There will probably be many readers before I finally feel it's ready to start sending out. But how many should there be?

It was recommended that a few people read the novel before I deem it done. These people should be writers and should not be family or close friends that aren't writers themselves. I have a few ideas of people I would like to have the honour of reading it and offering their feedback. Two of them are male. I think it's important to have someone of the opposite sex read the draft even though I think the book would be more appropriately marketed toward women. It's still important to get their feedback. They can probably offer something that women wouldn't. And I don't want to limit my potential readers.

So after I get feedback from said men, I do hope to pass a newly revised draft onto a few female writer friends for their input. And then...after probably several more changes until I feel it's ready, I can start sending it out to potential publishers.

I don't think I'm deluded. I realize there is still a long way to go. Probably a year, maybe more if I lose my focus by not being around my great support group. (My novel class.) But I have to face the fact that soon I will be on my own. That's what it's really all about isn't it? There won't always be classes to keep me going. I have to do it on my own. Just like everyone else. That alone is daunting. No one to bounce ideas off of that already know about the project. Reduced to bouncing ideas off a wall and more than likely not getting the feedback I desire.

But...that is still a ways down the road. No need to worry about it now.

In the meantime, I keep on writing.

Did manage to get a little further on the short story I'm working on too. And there are a couple of other projects that I need to get working on. Deadlines fast approaching and have barely started.

I should probably be working on only one thing at a time but it's not possible. If writers ever hope to see even a little return on all the hard work, gotta keep the ideas fresh and write whatever comes to mind.

Ok...time to stop stalling and go write a little more.

What's the Norm?

Recently, I came up with a great opening paragraph for a short story I have been working on. Last night, I was thinking about that paragraph and how it would relate in my novel. Both for character development and for curiosity in the reader.

But here lies my problem...I want to use both, though slightly changed and used in a different context, for the novel and the short story.

Maybe some other writers can shed some light on this for me.

On one hand, it's not plagiarism because it's my piece. But at the same time it seems lazy. And then there's the fact that as I was working on the short story, I could totally see it as a novel length piece at some point. And it would be totally retarded to use a similar opening for three different projects, two of which would be novels. There's a perfect example of unoriginality. Someone would notice.

But between short story and novel, would anyone really notice? And there's no guarantee that either would ever be published. On the flip side, what if they are both published. Is the short story far enough away from the novel that no one would notice. Or maybe they wouldn't make the connection.

I suppose I could change it more so it wasn't as recognizable.

What would you do?

Hmmm...What More Do You Want?

Apparently when you don't blog consistently or you don't have anything interesting to say when you do, your followers leave, without even so much as a farewell, see ya later, it was nice while it lasted. Oh well. I know there are still other loyal followers out there that aren't actually registered, and to them I say thanks. And of course to all of you that are still following, have been for a long time, thank you, thank you, thank you. I know I have been going through some lags in posts and sometimes those posts are less than I would like them to be, but thanks for hanging in there.

I vow to be more creative from here on in. To try and post every day or at the very least, every other day. Truth be told though, I am deep into my novel these days, and as any writer can attest to, when you're submersed in the fictional world you are trying to create; laughing, crying and struggling along with your characters, sometimes it's hard to come up for air. And it's liberating to be thinking about nothing else but your current project. That shows that you are invested. Deeply engrossed in the task at hand and even more so, determined.

That's where I find myself these days. Determined.

You may recall a couple of months ago I thought all was lost. All the hard work and words I had invested, stored on a little piece of plastic, vanished. But I have seen the end and with that came the unwavering will to get there. For the last few weeks I have written and re-written much of what I managed to salvage. Some of it better than before, a lot of it not so much. But the point is, that I have written and continue to write. I have almost got myself back to where I was, carefully mulling through chapter after chapter, adding here, deleting there. I even created a list of all the scenes that I know still have to come. So I have a guide and generally know where I'm going. Just have to get there.

I have rethought structure, tried out a few different scenarios, and think I might have something that will work. But most of all, this direction that has suddenly become clearer than the sunniest, smog free day Calgary could ever hope to have, has me motivated beyond belief.

In my class last week we revisited our goals for the end of the course. Even through my little hiccup I realized I am determined to complete the first draft by the end of the class. But in order to do that, I must write. One word after another, some exquisite, some just completely lame. I am finally allowing myself to write crap. Because after all, that's usually what a first draft is. Just get it all on the page. Better to have too much than too little. In the second draft stage, it will be easier to take out the unnecessary than to add more, though I am sure I will be doing much of that too.

So, if I become distant, bear with me, because one thing always remains true; I will eventually return.

But for now...

I am writing a novel.

It started our bumpy but by late morning it was better. I thought children were naturally supposed to be happy on their birthdays. But I suppose that only starts to happen when they are actually aware of the significance of the day.

After a little frustration, I did manage to capture her perfect second birthday picture. Happy cheerful, even if only for a short time. As I write she is getting annoyed or should I say annoying.

In other news, I managed to write over 2000 words on a new story. Funny though, after giving it some thought, the whole thing is going to change. Everything except for the title. That is where the inspiration came from so that must remain the same.

So Itchy!

You ever have an itch that no matter how much you scratch it, it just won’t go away? You dig and dig until the skin is red and raw, maybe even draw blood, but no matter what, that itch remains, as strong as ever.

You try to concentrate on something else, but it’s always there. Nagging at you. Begging to be addressed. Like the little kid at the back of the class, arm raised and waving wildly, “Pick me, pick me.” But he answered all the other questions and now it’s time to give someone else a chance, but he is so persistent and can’t be ignored.

Itches are like cup sizes. From training bra to H or J or however high they go. You might have a desire to go get an ice cream cone or have a strong craving for chocolate that can’t be ignored. Maybe you have been borderline celibate for weeks, months, or heaven forbid you’re practically a born-again virgin, that you need to find some relief. Don’t think it matters much HOW you do it. Just as long as you do.

Maybe you have always wanted to travel to a particular place but haven’t had the chance to do it. But the thought is always there, that someday you’ll travel around the world, or hell, maybe only a province over. Whatever the desire, the need, just do it. But what if you travel to the next town, never having been out of your own little bubble, and discover the thrill is just so amazing, a natural high that now can never be ignored? Next you want to travel to another country, maybe even another continent. Heck, pretty soon you’re gonna want to go to the moon, or Mars.

For me, it’s writing. No matter how long I step away from the words, I always end up coming back to it. Not that I am trying to avoid it or anything, it’s just that thing in the back of your mind that when you’re doing something else, you always think you should be writing. I used to go years without writing a single short story, heck I would barely scribble out a sentence. But it itched and itched, and well, before I knew, it I was getting back to writing a novel.

I guess the point is, if there is something that you really want to do, that is gnawing at you and you just can’t shake it, then do something about it. If you want to travel, do it. If you want to go get an ice cream, do it. If you want to run a marathon or train for the IronMan, then do it.

That itch is not going to go away if you don’t scratch it just a little bit. And who knows. Maybe you don’t want it to.

Sex and a Birthday Party

No, the two do not go together. It would make for a blog post that should probably be R rated at least. You know those options that you can add a warning on your blog that it could contain...ummmm...less than desirable content, so beware? Well this post is neither. It's merely me wanting to write about two topics and, well, I thought that title would be kinda catchy.

I suck at titles. (but that will be for a different blog post)

My little girl is turning two in just under two weeks. It's amazing to me to think that it was only two years ago that I was waddling around with this great big lump sticking out of my abdomen. And believe, being a plus size female, it was a BIG lump. And then when she was born she was a tiny little 6lb baby. And now at almost 2 she is just around the 27lb mark. Oh the memories.

But yeah, her birthday is coming up and I haven't the faintest idea on what to do for a two year old that essentially has no friends, per se. The bulk of the guests will be friends of family of ours. Grown ups! (And I use that in the loosest of terms)

So I want to plan a party for a toddler but the guests are adults. There is a slight possibility that there will be another infant at the party which will make it a little better but this one is only 3 months old. Not really much you need to please that one.

I can't wait until she goes to preschool and makes a few more friends. Then we get to the REAL birthday parties. The ones that will have me pulling my hair out and as soon as it's over I will collapse in the corner with a bottle of wine still in the brown paper bag. If I make it to the end of the party. But those are things I can't worry about right now. For now I have to focus on my little two year old.

Oh and did I mention I finally managed to put pigtails in her hair. I was so pleased. Believe me, it was not simply because her hair was kinda short. I've tried before, and knew I would be able to do it, if only she would sit still long enough and let me touch her hair. Yesterday we had success.

Now the next challenge is to get rid of that stinking soother. I heard someone mention the other day that their child at almost 4 still had a soother and the way they got her to give it up was by convincing her that if they planted them in the backyard they would grow lollipops.
I think it's cute, my husband thinks it's a great big lie and we shouldn't start doing that to her. After all there are enough lies we are going to tell her over the next few years. Santa Claus. Easter Bunny. Tooth Fairy. But really, what could a little lollipop fib do to her that would be negative?


Now for the sex part that I know you have all been patiently waiting for. Well it's not that interesting of a story except that I wrote my sex scene for my novel class but it's actually a sex scene. It is. And it isn't. It's not a sex scene in the nice sense. It's of the negative variety. Of the class that is frowned upon and people go to jail for. It was actually quite difficult to write. I suppose I should be thankful for that. If it was easy, well, what would that say about me? And it is an important aspect to the story as a whole but at the same time, it will probably not even end up in the novel. At least not to the degree that it has been written at this point. Hopefully, it's real enough.

And that's all I have to say about that. I should probably go do some more writing. The house is quieting down, I just have to pop the toddler into bed and then I can have some time to myself. Oh the gloriousness that is 8:00.

Cheers.

Why Do I Bother?

Why did we buy all these toys for our child? Or why didn’t  we just donate all the toy gifts so that other less fortunate children could have something of their own? Because apparently, garbage is the toy of choice these days.  Julianne will go into the garbage and pull out anything that makes noise to some degree or if it’s not something directly from the trash can it’s empty beer or pop boxes. Her father does nothing to stop it while I cringe and cry inside. Sure the boxes aren’t that big of a deal and the garbage isn’t the really messy garbage or the rotted garbage. It usually consists of containers or jars or paper. But to me, the point is that it is meant to be garbage, or recycled and it becomes a toy. Paper is the worst. Newspaper, sticky paper any kind of paper really. When she gets it into her hot little hands, that one full piece soon becomes a million little pieces and then get scattered all over the house and of course, if I am not around, they are left scattered all over the house. I can handle scattered toys but scattered paper just drives me crazy. I see it, I promptly clean it up, I try to tell the hubby it is ridiculous to let her play with paper and anything meant for the trash, but yet he lets it happen. Sure it makes her happy, keeps her quiet, but seriously, is that the message we want to leave our children? It’s ok to go dumpster diving and sift through garbage to find that next treasured item. Yes I have this dream for my daughter to be one of those ladies that either push a grocery cart, stopping to search through garbage cans for bottles and clothes. I want her to drive a nice car but go jumping in dumpsters for other people’s junk.

I know it’s probably not as big a deal as I make it out to be, but it really drives me nuts when the stuff that I put in the trash for a particular reason, suddenly reappears in the middle of the living room floor. Or worse, in Julianne’s toy box. Garbage is meant for the garbage and when it is put there, that is where it should remain. For good. The garbage can is NOT a toy box. Today it’s the empty blueberry container, all plastic and crinkly, tomorrow it’s…oh I don’t even want to venture a guess as to what it will be tomorrow.

Today I think I am finally going to sift through all the child’s toys and clear out what she doesn’t play with anymore. Maybe put it away for baby #2, whenever he/she happens to come along. If ever.

Cheers!

A Few More Ramblings

Isn’t it funny? When you hear the word “ramblings” you think of people venting their frustrations about silly things going on in the community or the world. Well at least I do. But when I ramble it really is about nothing short of babbling. I used to be told I was a babbler. I would apparently talk about useless things and to some, I guess it seemed more like I only wanted to hear the sound of  my own voice. But I don’t think I do that. But maybe I do. Just not around people I meet for the first time. Around those people, I tend to try and pick and choose my words carefully. No one wants to sound like a retard in front of a stranger. Funny isn’t it. We will say just about anything, no matter how inane, around those that we love or know extremely well. And even when they give you that little sideways glance that says, “I can’t believe that just came out of your mouth,” you take is nothing less than love and adoration. Because no matter what you say, they aren’t going to go anywhere. Or so you would hope.

 

I totally have no idea where I am going with this. It just kinda came out. And now that it’s on the page I don’t feel like deleting it. Maybe it has a little bit to do with character. Character development in a story, I mean. When you’re trying to search for that other side of a person, how they are around people that they trust and how they are around strangers. We can be so contradictory in nature, and those little quirks are what make us who we are. But you do that in a novel or story and readers or peers start to question if that character would really behave that way. But why wouldn’t they? They’re human. Why can’t they react to one situation in one way but when faced with a similar situation but around different people, they react completely another way? Do your friends come up to you and question your character when you act differently to similar situations? I don’t think so.

And there I go again. More rambling. But I do think I make a valid point. Why do we have to defend our characters in the eyes of someone else? Why can’t they just believe that it is the way it is?  Don’t get me wrong, I do understand that some writers tend to go over the top and their characters maybe contradict themselves too much that you start to think, huh? But there are just some situations that you shouldn’t have to defend. For example, when I am around people that I don’t know very well I tend to not say much. It could be perceived as being shy, or rude or indifferent, or whatever. But on the other hand, when I am around people that I am comfortable with, I am a completely different person. I babble, I ramble, I say stupid things, and even occasionally say something funny. But the point is, I talk. I don’t just stand there. But I am the same person either way. I am me and no one questions that. No one says, what the hell, she wouldn’t be that way in that situation. Cause whose to say I wouldn’t. They know, they saw me, and that’s that.

 

Well whatever. I think I am going to go write now. Maybe I will come up with some great character development today that I didn’t think about. Oh and I still have to work on that sex scene.

Sitting in a chilly basement, the only sounds are the hum of the furnace and the occasional rattle of the old boiler. Actually that's more of an earthquake than anything else, but it's only  occasionally so I guess it's not as bad as it may seem.  All I can think about is how badly I want to go to sleep right at this very moment. My eyelids are starting to become heavy and you know that odd glazed, fuzzy feeling you get when you're really tired? Well that's where I'm at.  There is a nice couch that I could sink into and for sure be asleep in a matter of minutes, but, and this is a big but, I don't actually want to risk falling asleep here because what if I wake up in the middle of the night in this cold basement and there is no one around? Oy, I sound like a little kid afraid of the dark. But really, I don't want to fall asleep here. It's a basement. And who wants to sleep in a basement? No matter how old or tired you are? Well I suppose a homeless person would give his last bottle of vodka for a roof over his head, but...or maybe he wouldn't give up his booze. It's hard to say.

So what am I really doing here? Actually I am working and trying to get used to this new keyboard on this new Netbook I just got and let me tell you, this is not easy. The keys are smaller than I'm used to and the screen, well the screen isn't really all that bad. But the keys are actually starting to drive me a little crazy. Woo. You didn't see it but I just wrote a whole sentence without screwing up and having to backspace a million times. I know with time I will get used to this little thing but right now, it's new and it's different.

What I really should be doing right now is writing. But you are, you say? Yeah, that's true but after the loss of my manuscript I really should be doing that writing. I actually have to write a sex scene for my next class. Just one little scene. Because every good novel has some kind of sex scene doesn't it? Ok, I know there are some good ones out there that don't have any of that awkwardness but this one is actually necessary for my novel and although it is a sex scene, it's not a really nice sex scene but nevertheless, it has to be there so I get to write it. That particular scene is actually something that was already written in my draft that got lost in the streets somewhere. It was good then and I don't relish the idea of having to rewrite it but rewrite I must and so rewrite I will. But not today.

Well, as ramblings go, I guess this is a good one. It's much ado about nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I do get to say that I wrote something today.

Enjoy the chaos that is my mind.

Layers and Layers of...Over-Indulgence

I want to write. I don't want to write. I'm tired but I don't want to sleep. I'm hungry, oh and I actually want to eat, but will probably just drink instead. But then if I drink, I might actually write. It's such a vicious circle and it all leads back to one place. Write. And then when I am done writing, write some more. Or maybe sleep.

I have actually begun to rewrite my novel. I have included a lot of the pieces that I already had but have been painstakingly trying to recreate each chapter. One after another. Know what's been kind of interesting? The voice. The voice that is coming off the page has changed. It's like my main character has finally got something to say. She has mannerisms and subtleties that are far more involved than I am, and they are just screaming at me from the page. The words spill from my fingertips and I have no idea where they are coming from. It's not me. When I write the first drafts are always much more filled with description. Like an ice cream overload with tons of whipped cream and sprinkles. At some point, as delectable as it looks, it can become to much. (did I really have to explain that or would you have gotten the metaphor?) Oy. That's is my point. That's usually my problem. Too much of something and the reader goes, "Yeah, d'uh. I could have figured that out on my own." But this new draft is different. It's stock full of, wait for it...brace yourself...EMOTION and THOUGHTS! Who would have thought that my character actually had thoughts of her own? That she actually feels something in the messed up predicament that she THINKS she's in. And it's not all negative as in the pieces that I lost. It's not all oh, woe is me!

Things are not always as they seem. I guess that's kind of a theme in my novel too. When your life feels crappy and you're at the end of your ropes, there is always someone out there that has it much worse. And the reasons you think that people have for doing something, is not always as cut and dried. Afterall we are multi-layered people in real life.

I guess what is shocking me the most is that she is becoming a real person. With all those layers, those flaws, those misconceptions that we hold so dear and watch out anyone that tries to construe it as anything different.

All I can say is that maybe having lost a lot of the work that I already put in, isn't going to be such a bad thing afterall. Or maybe, instead of overindulging in the richness of that ice cream sundae, now I will weigh myself down with cheesecake.

But if it's cherry or strawberry, I might get away with it. :)

This Too Shall Pass

I've been a little non-existant these days. And for that I apologize. Life has been a bit of a whirlwind, full of happiness and frustration all at the same time. I guess in some ways I have lost a little bit of a desire to write. But don't worry. It's coming back.

It all started a couple of weeks ago. In my preparation to return my leased car and take the plunge into the world of purchasing a vehicle that has already depreciated in value, I lost something that was my life. My whole world saved on a little piece of plastic, vanished in an instant of confusion and hair-pulling frustration.

The day itself is not worth re-enacting but let's just say, nothing, and I mean nothing, went the way it should have the day that I was returning my car. Extra driving, carelessness, tiredness and shear frustration and anxiety caused that little contraption called a flash drive to fall from my pocket and be lost forever. I am still holding out hope that it's in the house somewhere. Hidden so well that I will never find it until the day we decide to move.

All of the writing I have ever done over the past 10 years, gone. Just like that. For most of you this would probably be no big deal because normal people would have had everything backed up somewhere else. So really it is my own fault that it wasn't backed up. But there is a reasoning behind that as well. In five years I have never lost that stick. Yes, it's been misplaced but it has always been recovered.  And I kept telling myself I needed to back it up but I just never got around to it. Again, totally  my fault. A few months ago my laptop contracted a virus so I had my reservations about having any of my writing or anything else of importance on the computer itself. My other flash drive was full of pictures that luckily was saved from when the computer got sick and of course I hadn't tranferred those to a CD yet so there was no room to back up the writing on that drive and I really didn't want it on my computer. Even though now, it really wouldn't have hurt to just to put in on the computer.

Invoices for the last couple of years are gone. And...probably the most painful, all of my novel that I have been so painstakingly working on for the last 7 months. I wanted to cry but I also knew it was my own fault for not being more diligent and proactive and I kept holding on to the hope that it would turn up. I tried to laugh at myself but it didn't make me feel any better.

On the positive side, I have been taking a novel class since January and everything that I had submitted over the past few months, thankfully was still saved onto some of my classmates computers. So I have gotten bits and pieces back. But a lot of it is bits and pieces that I have changed again and again over the past months. So not much is as it was. Meaning of course that I have the dreadful task ahead of me of re-creating everything. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's the opportunity I needed to really get the novel the way it was supposed to be, but when I think about how much I have to re-write, I really just want to curl up in the closet and beat my head against the wall. Maybe add a few drinks to that too and I can slobber along with it. After all, isn't that writer do?

All I can really say is that once I get past this frustration and stop kicking myself for being so stupid and do re-write everything, it will be incredibly satisfying for that book to get published. Just knowing all that I had to go through to get it to that point. Might even be a good opening at my book launch.

On the most positive note of all, I am really enjoying the brand new Jeep Patriot. Depreciation and all.

Now I must write.

Procrastination...or

Through viewing blogs and the like, I came across this website, Wordle. I don't think there's really a point to any of it except for yet another way to waste time and it doesn't even waste a lot of that but in some ways, it's almost the ideal tool for writers.

I simply put in the link to my blog to see what it would come up with. But you can put in any words you want. What's interesting about this, is that it takes separate words that stand out from your input and randomizes them. Now if you're stuck and can't seem to find something to write, you can look at all these lovely jumbled words and just pick one. Maybe one that stands out above the rest. And start to free fall write. Who knows what may come out of it?

Otherwise, it's just another way to procrastinate. Use it to your benefit or not at all.

All The Things I Love

Happiness is often hard to find. We trudge through the every day, doing the things we must, whether or not we really like to do them or not, because simply, we have to. We have to work in order to make money and survive and more often than not, we do not really love what we do, but we do it. We buy groceries and pay bills in order to eat and keep a roof over our heads, because we must. Unless you are the type of person that loves the outdoors so much that you choose to live there permanently, but I think those people are few and far between. We drive through rush hour traffic because we have to, unless you’re fortunate enough to live in a small rural town or village that almost no one has ever heard of.
We watch as our family and friends take ill, try to help where we can because these are people that we love, but with that kind of commitment comes stress and sadness. Maybe they aren’t ill, but every family comes with their own set of problems and being the loyal friend or brother or sister, we give all the support we can muster even if a little bit of your soul takes flight for better destinations.  In short, we do what we are obligated to do, even if it does not make us happy.
Often I have seen people that just don’t know how to be happy. See the negative in every situation because that’s what allows them to cope. But there is so much beauty in the world. Beauty that we tend to overlook, the stuff that brings a smile to your face and a little blush to your heart.
I thought that I would share some of the things that I love in my life in hopes of bringing a little happiness to someone else. Or just to show that I am not all business and boredom.
1) That light that fills a child’s eyes when they see or get something that they didn’t expect. Not long ago we were wandering through Superstore, on our usual route from the front door to the baby section to the toy section and eventually arriving at the groceries cause that’s what we were there for in the first place. On this particular occasion we were in the toy section. Hubby and daughter were a little ahead of me when I stopped to look at a sand bucket and shovel for daughter. They were on sale and they were big, just what she needed. I called hubby back and when he turned the grocery cart around to see what I was doing, the daughter’s eyes got so big when she saw what was in my hands. I had never seen her react this way to anything and it just brought me such joy to think that something so simple and inexpensive could bring her so much joy.
2) My husband. I could not ask for a better man to spend my life with. Dedicated to me and his little girl, his top priority is to make us happy. I often try to get him to go out on his own, have a little alone time, but he refuses, always saying he’s a ‘family man’ now. And he shows it each and every day.
3) Watching a child grow and learn. Everyday my child learns something new. From being an infant that could barely m0ve, to the first smile, to the first time she rolled over then began to combat crawl across the floor and eventually walk. Although there are many times I wish she was still not able to roll over. But now it’s the words she’s learning. Each and everyday she still discovers something new.
4) The smell after a rain. There is something special in the air after a rain. Whether it’s a delicate drizzle or a downpour, once it stops, the air smells new. The world cleansed, even if just for a moment.
5) The smell of freshly cut grass. This brings me back to my childhood. Trailing my dad as he cuts the lawn, tiny blades being cut off and flung away.
6) Sharing in the excitement of a friend or family member when something goes the way they wanted it to. There is nothing better than getting a phone call to share some exciting news. To laugh with that person and be as giddy as they are.
7) Watching my husband do housework. Yes. This really does bring me great pleasure. Whether he is working in the yard, vacuuming or carrying a basket of laundry to the washing machine. I get the warm fuzzies.
8) Spring. When everything is coming up fresh and new. The first signs that winter is almost over makes me very happy. Of course, in Calgary, the winters tend to be long and drawn out. Even if the calendar says it’s spring, the frigid temperatures remain for a while longer. But when the grass finally starts to turn to green, flowers begin to bloom, and the trees grow vibrant, the spirits rise. And remain high until of course winter comes again. And it always does.
9) Along with spring comes colour. Vibrant natural colour. The bright hues of purple, pink, green, red and blue replace the drab browns of dead grass and gravel on the road. Not just flowers, but butterflies and birds of all different shades. I love colours.
10) I love odd numbers. Not sure what’s up with that. Even numbers make me feel unbalanced. But give me an odd number and I am happy. I can have one of something, but I can’t have two because if I have two then I have to have three. There are of course exceptions to this rule. If we owned two cars I would not need to have three. Not cost effective and the third one would just be sitting around collecting dust.
And the list could go on. Forever I think and this would be the longest blog post in the history of blog posts.
What makes you happy? What things do you love?

Character Flaws

I was browsing some interesting new writer’s blogs and one I came across had an interesting bit posted on their sidebar. Plot Whisperer had a tweet posted regarding character flaws and if you can’t find one then she suggests that you use one of your own.

I was challenged recently to make my main character in my novel weirder. Assuming this means to give her more realistic character traits. And with this I struggle. I know pretty much everything about her but yet to come up with a little tick that she might have, maybe she’s a little OCD, it just doesn’t fit for me. I have been thinking about all the weird things I do, all the weird things my friends or family do. But I just can’t pinpoint one single thing and I don’t want to overdo it by making her too weird.

In essence, she’s a normal girl. Maybe I should say, average girl. But we all have little things that make us unique. For example, I can’t stand the crinkly sound a plastic bag makes when you touch it. It’s like running nails down a chalkboard. But I don’t think that’s going to fit into my story at all. There would be no reason to introduce that type of information. She can’t stand really outgoing people and that does come out. Not that she is really that introverted but they just annoy her. She can’t sit in a chair unless it’s facing a wall. But it’s not enough.

And then, how do I make her a character that the reader is going to empathize with? One person I talked to mentioned that he did not particularly like this character. He couldn’t understand why she was cold and seemingly heartless. But that information comes out. Other people have felt sorry for her. Female readers. Is that the difference between male and female readers? Will one be more sympathetic and should we actually try to make the character a person that any sex can relate to?

Any suggestions??

Story Creation

What works for one person may not work for another. There are so many different ways to generate new story ideas. It made me wonder if one way was better than another, or maybe it doesn’t really matter. As a dear friend and colleague always says, “whatever gets you to the page”.

For me, there is no one way that I come up with new story ideas. Sometimes I see a character in a particular situation, sometimes one sentence rolls through my head and I can’t get it out of my mind. Even sometimes, I see something that is so strange that it makes me go hmmm. The problem with these scenarios is that it often takes me a long time to build a story around it. 

1. What if… Playing the what if…game can be a great way to generate a new story. Maybe you see a headline in the newspaper or an entire article on a prostitute that apparently committed suicide by jumping from a sixth floor balcony of a seedy hotel in downtown Calgary. But what if…that person was actually pushed. What if…she wasn’t a prostitute? Then you ask, what was she doing there and who could have pushed her.

2. Floating Sentence…You’re just beginning to fall asleep one night and suddenly out of nowhere, the oddest sentence drifts through your mind. One that initially makes no sense but you just can’t get it out of your mind. Something like, licking frosting from between your toes. Now why on earth would someone be licking frosting from between their toes. Is it even physically possible? Maybe it’s a metaphor for something.

3. Character Situation…You see a woman laying in bed, staring at a crack in the ceiling. What is she doing there? What’s around her? Is there someone else in the room? Did someone just leave? What is she thinking?

4. Snippet of dialogue…Maybe you’re sitting in a coffee shop and you happen to overhear a snippet of conversation. Or maybe you’re eavesdropping as many writers do for just this purpose. “Dude, what were you thinking?” “I knew she had a disease but I did it anyway.”

5. Free Fall Writing…you have nothing better to do so you sit down to write. You write the first thing that comes into your head and just keep writing. Or maybe you were given a writing prompt and then let words spill onto the page. It may be drivel, it may seem like nothing at first, but maybe, just maybe, there is something in there you can work with.

6. Title…Do you come up with the title of your novel, story or poem first and then build around that?

7. End First…Do you see the end scene first then build your story to reach that end?

8. Theme…Maybe you start with an overall theme and build your story around that.

There really are endless ways to generate new ideas. How do you come  up with an idea for a story?

Guide to Growing the Green Stuff

No I don’t mean money. And no I don’t mean that other green plant that so many seem to adore. Quite simply, I mean grass. Yes. Plain old ordinary grass. The stuff that lawns are made of. The stuff where kids frolic in the summer. The stuff…well you get the point. Green grass.

Just over a week ago we set out on a mission to grow grass. To create what might resemble a little bit of a yard outside our patio and under a great big pine tree. We thought it would be a difficult task. That the grass would need a little bit of coaxing and if all else failed, a whole lot of Miracle Gro. Much to our pleasant surprise, that has not be the case at all.

First you should know, we live in an apartment that is managed by a management company. We have a landlord. What made up our yard previously could only be described as complete laziness. The entire area beneath the tree was covered in this black paper and that in turn was covered in mulch. The reasoning behind it that previous tenants didn’t care for it and too many weeds were growing that they finally just covered it up.

I have been in this apartment complex for 6 years but in a different apartment. One on the third floor that the idea of a yard really made no difference. Last year we moved to a bottom floor unit because of the ever-growing and ever-moving toddler. Also the fact that there are no elevators in our building and carrying groceries up the stairs was a complete pain in the butt. Well this year we extended our lease because the management company reduced our rent. At the thought of staying her another year we had to make the area around our unit more child friendly. The mulch would dig into feet and there was just no place to really enjoy anything. So we went to the landlord and asked if we could tear up the black paper and get rid of the mulch and try to plant grass. The result? Well who is going to turn down free maintenance to make the yards look better?

Here’s how it went…

1. Trim the branches around the base of the tree to allow as much natural air, sun and water to reach. We trimmed  about 6 feet from the ground.

2. Tear up the black paper and get rid of the mulch.

3. Wet the dry ground A LOT.

4. Till up the dirt. Use a shovel or pitchfork and get down as deep as possible then smooth it all out and add more water. You want the water to actually be absorbed into the ground.

5. Spread some grass seed evenly over the tilled area. Water, water, water.

6. Add some new soil. The stuff we got was Black Earth and I think there was a little fertilizer in it too. Add more grass seed. Water, water, water.

7. Pray a little. We really thought it was going to be much more difficult to get the grass growing if it was even going to happen at all. Very little sun reaches the area under the tree. And even if it rains, not much water gets there unless it’s manually added. 

The bag said we wouldn’t see anything for at least a couple of weeks. We watered daily and it even rained a little in between.

And what do you know? Yesterday (6 days after we spread the first seeds) we saw little green shoots coming up through the soil. Amazed and thrilled that it was actually working, we gave the ground a good watering. The temperature has been in the high 20’s to low 30’s most of the week. Yesterday 32. Hubby watered and raked and even added a little more seed yesterday. This morning…holy moly. Those little sprouts were busy last night. We didn’t have to get down on the ground and search for the sprouts. They are everywhere. Tiny and still spread out, but they are there.

You might be thinking so what. But for anyone knows me, plants do not fair well under my direction. But hubby on the other hand, does have a green thumb. I really had doubts that it would work. Thought if we saw anything at all it wasn’t going to be until next year sometime. (Shows what I know about growing grass).

I can’t take much the credit. It really was all Mr. Green Thumb.

But I did do most of the praying.

Update

When morning came upon Calgary and the birds began to wake, as I was slipping into the fog of sleep...a new title for my novel came to me.

Thanks for listening.

Untitled.

It’s late. Or early. Depends on how you look at it. I can’t sleep cause it’s hotter than the Sahara Desert, but moist. I could feel the sweat drip between my shoulder blades and because it felt just slightly like a beetle or some other multi-legged critter that totally does not belong in a bed, I was up. Grabbed a glass of iced tea and decided to sit down and surf. But there really isn’t much action going on this time of night. Just like late night TV.
But this is not the only reason I can’t sleep. You ever get so obsessed with what you happen to be writing at the time that your character’s world essentially starts to become your world? You stay up late trying to solve their problems, or create them depending on what stage you’re at. You run through necessary scenes that need to get written, you play dialogue over in your head, even editing unnecessary words as you go, trying to imagine the exact actions of your characters while they are speaking. Their facial expressions, their hand and body movements. The ever changing format of the piece at hand (in this case a novel). Which chapter should go there, and oh I think this one will work better there. You move everything around, plan out strategies. And before you know it, just like when you get completely engrossed in the scene you’re writing, over an hour has passed, maybe even two.
And so this is what is keeping me up on this insanely muggy night. On top of that I am wracking my brain to come up with a better title. Something that suits the subject matter and is original. I have a working title that would have worked three drafts ago but so much has changed since then that it’s totally not going to work anymore. So now it just remains my working title. It’s probably too early to really focus so much effort on such an important aspect of the whole process but I totally fear that I will get to the end and still won’t have that magical heading. That title that will set it apart from all the rest.
I have a theme. And a tentative possible title, but I am pretty sure it’s been used before. But the title works on so many levels it’s scary. Yet I don’t want to go there cause as I said it’s been used on several occasions I’m sure. So I sift through all the little pockets of my brain where I tend to store completely useless information in hopes that I can pull something from  there, dust off the cobwebs, tweak it a little and have the best title ever. But it’s not working. Either there are way too many cobwebs that I will need a hatchet to break through or maybe, just maybe, there isn’t as much junk there as I originally thought.
To be creative, I think I need a metaphor for what I am trying to say. I even tried brainstorming. You know how they show you to do it in school? The main topic in the middle of the page, circled, with a million different branches going this way and that. A cobweb on a page. Often this technique works for me. Random thoughts fall to the page and before you know it, the answer is right in front of me. Or even free fall writing some thoughts on a page. That’s worked in the past for other areas such as character and plot development but as of yet, it’s not working on the title issue. Heck, I don’t know what I am expecting. Most of the time it takes me forever to even come up with a semi-decent title for a blog post. But at least with a blog post, if I can’t think of one, I just don’t use one. Can’t do that with a novel. Apparently publishers don’t like it when you send them something called Untitled. What’s up with that anyway? What if you wrote a story and the only title that worked was Untitled? Would they discard it or read it? Would they assume that by Untitled you meant that there was no title? That you were just to damn lazy to come up with a unique and introspective name for your piece? Or would they actually think, hey, maybe that is what it’s supposed to be called and therefore, I should read it? It’s just one of those things in life that make you go, hmmm.
But as I ponder that, I am still no closer to a title and it’s still too hot to sleep.
Hmmm…

On Dreams

I’ve heard a few people say they don’t dream or they don’t remember their dreams when they do. I find it hard to believe that a person simply doesn’t dream and I also find it difficult to believe that a person would not remember at least one dream in their lifetime. But I am no professional on the dreaming mind so who am I to say that it isn’t possible. All I have to go by is my own dreams. I know there are times that I can’t remember a single thing once I wake up, but more often than not that dream is just beyond the border of my mind. I imagine it as similar to a cosmic explosion. While we’re sleeping every part is intact but if we wake suddenly the dream bursts into millions of little fragments. You try desperately to put the pieces back together but there are always parts that will  be lost in outer space. But if you wake slowly, the dream doesn’t fragment. Instead your unconscious mind begins to mesh with your consciousness and you remember what good or bad dream you might have been having. This is not the case all of the time. We can have nightmares that wake us so dramatically  yet every image is as clear and vivid as if you were still living it.

When I was five or six, I had this dream that to this day is still as clear as if I just had it yesterday or so vivid that I could have lived it. Like those memories permanently etched into your brain, creating the stuff that autobiographies and memoirs are made of.

So this dream I had as a kid is not a recurring dream because I have never had it again since that day, but I do remember most pieces of it. I am sure the 30 years since may have marred a little of the memory but the essence is there. My mom and I were shopping at the thrift store. I didn’t want to be in there so kept hiding under the clothes racks. In the basement of this store they kept all the books. Now that was my favourite place to go when we were there. I tried to go down the stairs but something kept pulling me back. An unseen force seemed to be calling to me to go outside. While mom was busy perusing the newest arrivals I slipped out the front door and proceeded to walk down the street. At the edge of the building was a vacant lot of overgrown weeds. When I peered into the lot, there was a baby brontosaurus. I continued down the street past another row of buildings to another vacant lot. In this lot there was another brontosaurus. This one bigger than the last but not by much. I peered back the way I had come and the baby was peeking out around the corner watching me. He looked sad. Like he had lost something very dear to him. The second dinosaur also looked sad but there was something mysterious in those eyes. As if she knew something but it was something she did not quite understand. I walked past but never took my eye off of the middle sized beast. She watched me disappear behind another row of buildings. I felt myself being pulled back. To see the other two again. To help maybe, or perhaps just curious, but my feet kept me moving forward. When I glanced back, both of dinosaurs were watching me, only now the baby had joined the second. I rounded the corner of the next set of buildings and froze. Before me was the largest brontosaurus I had ever seen. And this one looked angry. I backed up slowly as the dinosaur came closer. The largest was following me and when I backed up past the smaller two, they also began following me. I looked over my shoulder looking for help but there was no one. The street was completely deserted except for cars parked at an angle. The door of the thrift store suddenly appeared and through the glass I could still see my mom looking at the clothes. I slipped in the door and went to the basement and hid among the stacks of books behind a large bookshelf. I sat and waited. Wondering if anyone would come for me. Near the basement ceiling was a narrow window. Outside the window I could see the pacing feet of the giant beasts. Back and forth, back and forth.

The building began to shake. Sections of the ceiling fell to the floor in front of me. I hugged my knees to my chest and waited, expecting to be lifted out of my hiding place. The floor shook, the stairs began to crumble and the sky opened up.

And then I woke up.

I have thought about this dream so many times over the years. Always remembering but never understanding. Is it true that every dream is our subconscious trying to tell us something. If I read it now I can pull a lot of metaphors from my life to date, but what did this mean to a little girl who had barely experienced anything in life? Was it a premonition and that’s why it means something now? Or maybe as I wrote I reinvented parts that weren’t there initially to make it mean something.

But again that is the subconscious working its magic.

All The Things I Should Be Doing Right Now!

1. Writing. Yes, first and foremost I should be writing.  Now you might say, “But Robin, you’re writing your blog post.” So yes I am writing but that is not the writing I am referring to. Recently I finished an outline for my novel and after some careful consideration, so much has changed that I have to go back and start rewriting some of what I already have. So, I should be doing that instead of writing about why I should be doing it.

2. Working. I am fortunate to be able to do a lot of my work from home. And this is the non-writing related work I am talking about. The stuff that helps pay the bills. There is so much to do and deadlines are fast approaching.

3. Cleaning the living room. Now that the child has gone to bed I should clean up her daily mess. I tried doing it earlier in the day but after only a few hours toys were scattered everywhere, again. But that will only take a couple of minutes so I can do it when I am finished here.

4. Working on some short stories. Actually I have a non-fiction piece that is almost ready to submit somewhere and the place I have in mind needs to have it by July 15. Time is running out. Sometimes I really wonder why I do that to myself. Avoidance. Fear of rejection? How can I fear rejection when I have so many of them already. They are starting to pile up. But on the upside, I have been submitting. That is progress.

And that is all that I should be doing right now but instead I am blogging. Comedy channel is playing in the background and all I can think is they must be amateurs because they really aren’t very funny. Quite similar to me when you think about it. They are amateurs, struggling in their field, doing what it takes to finally make it big. Like actors and musicians. Comedians and writers. Some will never make it, but at least they try. They don’t give up on their dreams.

So I better get writing. But after I clean the living room. :)