It's the last day of 30 Days, 30 Posts, 30 Chapters. I have not written thirty chapters, but I did write every day. I'm quite glad this turned out as well as it did.
It's also the second day of 14 Days to Book. I stayed up way too late last night watching Red Dawn, finding a stopping point, and making a chart with crayons.
Sorry, I just love charts. And the 80s. I tiredly informed my fiance last night as well that, alas, in an alternate universe, his town didn't survive the 1980s.
I am that kind of tired, ladies and gentlemen.
And yes. I have written today, in the speckled white and black notebook. I have now reached the exact middle of it. Literally. The stitching and all. It's looking more and more like the end of the book will need to be finished in another notebook that's got some nice big space and a lot of messiness at the front. But for today, counting the double-sided sheets plus two half-pages put together, I've written five pages in a notebook, and will continue to write some more after lunch. Yesterday I got something like ten pages written. I haven't done that in forever. It's paying off. I am seriously so excited, because I am so close to the end. Not within five pages or anything, but this is building to the climax.
Horror Vacui is still free, and you don't even have to have an account on Smashwords to download it. I only ask that you review it if you can.
Now that the end of the book is in sight, you know what comes next...excerpts! Good ones, I promise, though I may have some horrible little bits of the original novel posted this week. That's just too much fun.
Showing posts with label 30 Days 30 Posts 30 Chapters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 30 Days 30 Posts 30 Chapters. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
There I Go With Another Goal
It's the second to last day of 30 days, 30 posts, 30 chapters. I have one more day where I am obligated, by myself, to post here and work at least one or two pages in my book.
Though the book is nearer to being finished than it was, I'm not exactly in the last chapter. I've worked out some problems and discovered the joy in writing again, with a pen and a piece of paper and my bad handwriting and tendency to scribble notes where they'll fit.
Before I started this, one of my excuses for why I wasn't any closer to finishing was that I had some things about the story that were bothering, and that needed fixing, and that I was stuck. Looking back after the past month, I could have fixed that all by just sitting down to write like I used to. Now I'm closer to finishing than I ever have been since starting the rewrite a few years ago. I'm pretty excited.
Also, in just a bit, a character I liked but previously deleted will show up, for just a bit. I think she'll be around later, too. We'll see.
So here's my new thing, since the book isn't actually finished like I wanted, I'm going to set a goal. I will be finished with this book, in this raw draft, by October 14, and I will post my progress here. Every day. For two weeks.
This should be good.
Though the book is nearer to being finished than it was, I'm not exactly in the last chapter. I've worked out some problems and discovered the joy in writing again, with a pen and a piece of paper and my bad handwriting and tendency to scribble notes where they'll fit.
Before I started this, one of my excuses for why I wasn't any closer to finishing was that I had some things about the story that were bothering, and that needed fixing, and that I was stuck. Looking back after the past month, I could have fixed that all by just sitting down to write like I used to. Now I'm closer to finishing than I ever have been since starting the rewrite a few years ago. I'm pretty excited.
Also, in just a bit, a character I liked but previously deleted will show up, for just a bit. I think she'll be around later, too. We'll see.
So here's my new thing, since the book isn't actually finished like I wanted, I'm going to set a goal. I will be finished with this book, in this raw draft, by October 14, and I will post my progress here. Every day. For two weeks.
This should be good.
Old Knees Tell No Tales
No fictional tales, that is.
On October 28th, I'll turn 26.
It's weird.
As much as I still feel like a teenager, I'm not one.
Ugh. I feel old just typing that.
The weirdest thing about getting older is what happens when you do certain things, like go crazy on the elliptical at the gym. I mean, there's nothing like the endorphins that result from a great workout. But every so often (like all today today) my left knee will decide to be That Chick and be all "hey!"
"Hey you!"
"You in the Galaga t-shirt."
"Yeah. You."
"You're old." *troll laughter*
Maybe I'll buy a brace or something.
I refuse to get old on purpose.
On October 28th, I'll turn 26.
It's weird.
As much as I still feel like a teenager, I'm not one.
Ugh. I feel old just typing that.
The weirdest thing about getting older is what happens when you do certain things, like go crazy on the elliptical at the gym. I mean, there's nothing like the endorphins that result from a great workout. But every so often (like all today today) my left knee will decide to be That Chick and be all "hey!"
"Hey you!"
"You in the Galaga t-shirt."
"Yeah. You."
"You're old." *troll laughter*
Maybe I'll buy a brace or something.
I refuse to get old on purpose.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
The Third Book
I filled in the blocks last night on my chart, and I only have like five days of this left in which there is any way to track myself writing and posting and stuff. I think maybe I should make a similar chart for planning my wedding and workouts. I like feeling accomplished each day that I write something, so I'll probably keep this up.
It's a dim and dreary Saturday, perfect for a cup of coffee and a nice thick book about dragons or vampires or magic schools. I love days like this. It was a cloudy, gloomy day one January when I finished the second draft of my second book. I didn't start typing it yet. In fact, that one was never typed. I do still have the notebook with the second draft in it, as well as the notebooks, tied together with yarn so I could easily reference, that contained the first draft.
I'm not sure when I started work on the third book. It was sometime my senior year of high school, I'm sure. What I'm not so sure about is what happened between my perky, cheerful, cliche-ridden second book and the beginning of the third one. I can specify one point where the story turned. A character died. Not a main character at that point, but the man died of cardiac arrest after running into the throne room and declaring that war had begun. Sometime after that, I decided, while a classical station was playing in my room, that a central character, a blind girl who was an archer, would die in the third book.
That was before any of the third book was even written.
The story took a darker turn. Not in a bad way, of despair and hopelessness, but I definitely reached back to my roots with it. I was raised on spooky stories and legends. I liked to be spooked. Not terrified out of my mind, but I appreciated a good chill now and then. Note that I didn't like horror movies, and didn't watch them. My first experience with the genre was Jeepers Creepers, which was disappointing. That whole movie was based on a Batman arc where Batman mutated into a bat thing. Seriously. It was bad. Give me zombies any day.
While the book didn't turn suddenly scary, my mind held on to the ghost stories and legends and pictures of spooky houses. It was random as far as the stories go. There had been no foreshadowing of this part, no mention of it in passing, no gun on the table when one went off. Suddenly, my two main characters were exploring this creepy old house in the countryside, because they'd heard rumors, and there had been disappearances.
I didn't hold back. Dust, dirt, freaky graffiti on the wall, broken old toys arranged meticulously on shelves, and an old doll that stared. I still think it was a legitimately creepy scene, like a good H.P. Lovecraft story.
And it was nothing like the original. At all. Somehow, between finishing the second book and starting the third, it all changed. The story, the tone, the scale of the story. Suddenly it was dark and intense and urgent. The main character questioned at all why she did anything that happened in the first book, and whether it was pointless.
I never finished that book. By that time, the work had changed so much that I simply decided to start over in college. I remember passing the time at the bookstore job I had, writing down book stuff when I wasn't outlining reports for my correspondence class, sometimes on paper circles in the cafe, when I didn't have my little notebook on me.
Thing is, I know exactly where the book was headed. I knew that a lot had to be done to get there, and that a lot had to be rewritten to provide the characters a way to arrive there.
So I started over.
At some point, I think I let my writing grow up with me. When I started, I was the same age as the main character. I think the story wasn't ready then, just as the rewrite isn't quite finished, though for different reasons regarding both.
I'm glad I didn't finish the third book, but I sure am glad I started it.
It's a dim and dreary Saturday, perfect for a cup of coffee and a nice thick book about dragons or vampires or magic schools. I love days like this. It was a cloudy, gloomy day one January when I finished the second draft of my second book. I didn't start typing it yet. In fact, that one was never typed. I do still have the notebook with the second draft in it, as well as the notebooks, tied together with yarn so I could easily reference, that contained the first draft.
I'm not sure when I started work on the third book. It was sometime my senior year of high school, I'm sure. What I'm not so sure about is what happened between my perky, cheerful, cliche-ridden second book and the beginning of the third one. I can specify one point where the story turned. A character died. Not a main character at that point, but the man died of cardiac arrest after running into the throne room and declaring that war had begun. Sometime after that, I decided, while a classical station was playing in my room, that a central character, a blind girl who was an archer, would die in the third book.
That was before any of the third book was even written.
The story took a darker turn. Not in a bad way, of despair and hopelessness, but I definitely reached back to my roots with it. I was raised on spooky stories and legends. I liked to be spooked. Not terrified out of my mind, but I appreciated a good chill now and then. Note that I didn't like horror movies, and didn't watch them. My first experience with the genre was Jeepers Creepers, which was disappointing. That whole movie was based on a Batman arc where Batman mutated into a bat thing. Seriously. It was bad. Give me zombies any day.
While the book didn't turn suddenly scary, my mind held on to the ghost stories and legends and pictures of spooky houses. It was random as far as the stories go. There had been no foreshadowing of this part, no mention of it in passing, no gun on the table when one went off. Suddenly, my two main characters were exploring this creepy old house in the countryside, because they'd heard rumors, and there had been disappearances.
I didn't hold back. Dust, dirt, freaky graffiti on the wall, broken old toys arranged meticulously on shelves, and an old doll that stared. I still think it was a legitimately creepy scene, like a good H.P. Lovecraft story.
And it was nothing like the original. At all. Somehow, between finishing the second book and starting the third, it all changed. The story, the tone, the scale of the story. Suddenly it was dark and intense and urgent. The main character questioned at all why she did anything that happened in the first book, and whether it was pointless.
I never finished that book. By that time, the work had changed so much that I simply decided to start over in college. I remember passing the time at the bookstore job I had, writing down book stuff when I wasn't outlining reports for my correspondence class, sometimes on paper circles in the cafe, when I didn't have my little notebook on me.
Thing is, I know exactly where the book was headed. I knew that a lot had to be done to get there, and that a lot had to be rewritten to provide the characters a way to arrive there.
So I started over.
At some point, I think I let my writing grow up with me. When I started, I was the same age as the main character. I think the story wasn't ready then, just as the rewrite isn't quite finished, though for different reasons regarding both.
I'm glad I didn't finish the third book, but I sure am glad I started it.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Babies and Aliens
A couple of weeks ago, I was just hanging around with family in our living room. At the time, the movie E.T. was on.
Have I mentioned that I love 80s movies?
Anyway, I had this random memory come of this time I drew a picture of the aliens when I was a kid (because every youngish adult alive today has seen that movie, and don't pretend otherwise because I know you watched it voluntarily or were made to watch it at some point.)
I used to pretend I was an artist of sorts. Most of my work when I was very young was, for some reason, some slightly terrifying pictures of a baby standing in a crib. I can picture them exactly in my head, because I drew like a million of them, all the same, all on white construction paper, and mostly in red pen. Also, the baby sort of looked like E.T., but skinny. And terrifying. At this age, I also remember drawing a picture of the aliens from the movie near their ship.
Using the same sort of logic that led me to once bring a hushpuppy home as a pet, I deduced that the aliens were all named similarly, with initials only. The next part's a little fuzzy, but one of the aliens was E.T.'s brother, and was given either "A.B." or "B.A." as his name. I dearly hope it was the latter. I guess he would have been a biker alien.
I also once convinced my mom to let me watch Raiders of the Lost Ark on TV, despite the gruesome content at the beginning, because it "went nicely" with my "It's a Small World" read-along cassette. I think I was five.
All that, and I was in college before I figured out that Fievel and his family were Jewish mice, and that the beginning of An American Tail depicted a pogrom.
We all gotta start somewhere.
Have I mentioned that I love 80s movies?
Anyway, I had this random memory come of this time I drew a picture of the aliens when I was a kid (because every youngish adult alive today has seen that movie, and don't pretend otherwise because I know you watched it voluntarily or were made to watch it at some point.)
I used to pretend I was an artist of sorts. Most of my work when I was very young was, for some reason, some slightly terrifying pictures of a baby standing in a crib. I can picture them exactly in my head, because I drew like a million of them, all the same, all on white construction paper, and mostly in red pen. Also, the baby sort of looked like E.T., but skinny. And terrifying. At this age, I also remember drawing a picture of the aliens from the movie near their ship.
Using the same sort of logic that led me to once bring a hushpuppy home as a pet, I deduced that the aliens were all named similarly, with initials only. The next part's a little fuzzy, but one of the aliens was E.T.'s brother, and was given either "A.B." or "B.A." as his name. I dearly hope it was the latter. I guess he would have been a biker alien.
I also once convinced my mom to let me watch Raiders of the Lost Ark on TV, despite the gruesome content at the beginning, because it "went nicely" with my "It's a Small World" read-along cassette. I think I was five.
All that, and I was in college before I figured out that Fievel and his family were Jewish mice, and that the beginning of An American Tail depicted a pogrom.
We all gotta start somewhere.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Organizing
I guess you could call it fall cleaning.
Today, after finishing up assignments that are due tomorrow (money!) I decided to clean up my documents a bit. They were starting to take on the air of dirty laundry tossed on the floor and put in the corner.
So that's done.
While I was cleaning a little, I saw the mess I'd made of my book. I'd been writing it in bits and pieces, so I could get through it and hide it. It's a mess right now. I'm not even sure how to piece it together. Another good half of it is on Google Drive.
Ultimately, that's why I started back with ink and paper. It feels more organic. Shoot, it just feels neater. I feel like the finish line is just that much closer. This story that has grown and changed and been so near and dear to me is finally almost near the end, at least as far as the first part is concerned. I can see myself holding the finished product in my hand, even though there's still a lot of typing and editing to be done after now. But the point is, I'm close!
Messes notwithstanding.
I think I've decided on a cover design now, something not too ambitious, but sort of beautiful in its simplicity, at least in my mind's eye. Also, part of the story changed. Just a small part of something, but it's very big for the story. I'm pretty ecstatic.
Pretty tired too.
I think I'll go do some more organizing now.
P.S. Check out my tags to see some elements that will be present in the finished story.
Today, after finishing up assignments that are due tomorrow (money!) I decided to clean up my documents a bit. They were starting to take on the air of dirty laundry tossed on the floor and put in the corner.
So that's done.
While I was cleaning a little, I saw the mess I'd made of my book. I'd been writing it in bits and pieces, so I could get through it and hide it. It's a mess right now. I'm not even sure how to piece it together. Another good half of it is on Google Drive.
Ultimately, that's why I started back with ink and paper. It feels more organic. Shoot, it just feels neater. I feel like the finish line is just that much closer. This story that has grown and changed and been so near and dear to me is finally almost near the end, at least as far as the first part is concerned. I can see myself holding the finished product in my hand, even though there's still a lot of typing and editing to be done after now. But the point is, I'm close!
Messes notwithstanding.
I think I've decided on a cover design now, something not too ambitious, but sort of beautiful in its simplicity, at least in my mind's eye. Also, part of the story changed. Just a small part of something, but it's very big for the story. I'm pretty ecstatic.
Pretty tired too.
I think I'll go do some more organizing now.
P.S. Check out my tags to see some elements that will be present in the finished story.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
The Hushpuppy
When I was a little kid, like four or five, I very much wanted a puppy. I would play with the dog next door through our fence, and my parents had had a dog named Sam when I was a baby, but at the time, we didn't have any pets.
One night, we went out to eat at some barbecue restaurant or another. (There's a wealth of them here, trust me.) I'm not even sure we whether we were eating with friends or family. I don't know what I ate.
But I remember the hushpuppy.
I'm not sure at what point I was aware that the fried cornmeal was called that, but I knew the word, apparently. During the course of the meal, at which many hushpuppies were served and consumed, I managed to get attached to one. For some reason.
I decided that it was my puppy (being literal here) and declared to my mom that it was my pet and I was taking it home. Mom warned me it would rot before long. I kept it anyway. I must have had a balloon, because I had a balloon string to tie around the hushpuppy as a leash, and I took it home.
To keep it hidden from parental eyes, I stuck him under the edge of my bed, so happy to have a pet.
After that, I have no idea what happened. I went looking for the hushpuppy one day, and it had apparently run away. Or rotted, as my mom said. Or maybe fed a nice family of mice. I don't know. I don't even think I reacted.
And that is the not so tragic tale of the hushpuppy.
One night, we went out to eat at some barbecue restaurant or another. (There's a wealth of them here, trust me.) I'm not even sure we whether we were eating with friends or family. I don't know what I ate.
But I remember the hushpuppy.
I'm not sure at what point I was aware that the fried cornmeal was called that, but I knew the word, apparently. During the course of the meal, at which many hushpuppies were served and consumed, I managed to get attached to one. For some reason.
I decided that it was my puppy (being literal here) and declared to my mom that it was my pet and I was taking it home. Mom warned me it would rot before long. I kept it anyway. I must have had a balloon, because I had a balloon string to tie around the hushpuppy as a leash, and I took it home.
To keep it hidden from parental eyes, I stuck him under the edge of my bed, so happy to have a pet.
After that, I have no idea what happened. I went looking for the hushpuppy one day, and it had apparently run away. Or rotted, as my mom said. Or maybe fed a nice family of mice. I don't know. I don't even think I reacted.
And that is the not so tragic tale of the hushpuppy.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
I Swear I Saw It
I randomly got really excited about my book last night, because for the first time, I can really visualize it.
Okay, maybe not so random.
I also had a dream last night about spaceships crashing and genetic testing. Anyway, back to the random excitement of memory.
I may have told this story before, but here it goes again. Sometime this summer, I was reading Ragecomics when I came across one that had a girl with a Poker Face seeing a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey on her teacher's desk. When I saw that, I pictured in my mind a copy of my novel, finished. Printed. Bound, with a dust-jacket.
I think that little glimpse of finishing has really been a motivator. I thank God that He gave me that little gift.
I'm getting closer to the end, and I know where the story is going. I literally didn't two weeks ago. I'm so thankful for the idea to do this 30 day thing. I might keep it up even after the 30 days are up.
I'm now looking at the daunting challenge of self-publishing. I mean, not just uploading it to Kindle. That's not too hard, because Amazon isn't strict about how it looks. Smashwords is, but not even that's horrendous. Formatting and making a cover are about all you need to do for a digital book. It's not comparatively that much.
Not when you put it up against a print book.
I've been comparing different companies. CreateSpace versus Lulu versus Lightning Source, all of them with pros and cons. The biggest issue is cover design. I'm not a graphic designer, but I'm also not one to make something terrible and just throw it out there. I'm picky and meticulous and too broke to hire someone to design the cover, so I'm going to tackle it myself.
I'm not worrying anymore about it being all for nothing. It's all for something. Someone will read my book. I've sure as heck enjoyed writing it.
I'll be happy if I can just fill a gap for a reader somewhere.
Because before anything else happened, that was why I started writing.
I hope someone enjoys.
Okay, maybe not so random.
I also had a dream last night about spaceships crashing and genetic testing. Anyway, back to the random excitement of memory.
I may have told this story before, but here it goes again. Sometime this summer, I was reading Ragecomics when I came across one that had a girl with a Poker Face seeing a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey on her teacher's desk. When I saw that, I pictured in my mind a copy of my novel, finished. Printed. Bound, with a dust-jacket.
I think that little glimpse of finishing has really been a motivator. I thank God that He gave me that little gift.
I'm getting closer to the end, and I know where the story is going. I literally didn't two weeks ago. I'm so thankful for the idea to do this 30 day thing. I might keep it up even after the 30 days are up.
I'm now looking at the daunting challenge of self-publishing. I mean, not just uploading it to Kindle. That's not too hard, because Amazon isn't strict about how it looks. Smashwords is, but not even that's horrendous. Formatting and making a cover are about all you need to do for a digital book. It's not comparatively that much.
Not when you put it up against a print book.
I've been comparing different companies. CreateSpace versus Lulu versus Lightning Source, all of them with pros and cons. The biggest issue is cover design. I'm not a graphic designer, but I'm also not one to make something terrible and just throw it out there. I'm picky and meticulous and too broke to hire someone to design the cover, so I'm going to tackle it myself.
I'm not worrying anymore about it being all for nothing. It's all for something. Someone will read my book. I've sure as heck enjoyed writing it.
I'll be happy if I can just fill a gap for a reader somewhere.
Because before anything else happened, that was why I started writing.
I hope someone enjoys.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Eating
I was healthier in high school. I know I was. I remember what I ate and what I did.
First came the "burn 3500 calories a day" thing the summer before my freshman year. I literally sat for hours on the exercise bike we had, because there was nothing else to do. I couldn't drive, and we lived out on Highway 301. Not exactly within walking distance of a pool, and that summer, the pool we went to wasn't even open that much until mid-July. So I read a lot and sat on that bike and tried to burn off a pound a day while watching A Makeover Story on TLC. It didn't work, but hey, exercise, because we lived on the world's shortest dead-end road and didn't walk the dog much.
I started to go to the YMCA to work out when i was in tenth grade. Every day after school. It was good stuff. I also played softball, but let's be honest, it's not exactly an aerobic sport except for the ten seconds you're running to a base.
Okay, so, yeah, pretty general self-improvement, right?
Well, I also turned into sort of a hippie around the same time I got into Lord of the Rings. I gave up pork, avoided red meat, didn't drink soft drinks (at all, ever) for like a year, and ate a whole lot of veggie burgers and tofu. I gave up dairy milk in favor of soy milk, and I drank a ton of tea and water.
Lately I've been missing those days.
I know I was healthier then, mostly because of what I didn't eat. I felt good most of the time, except for the times when I was sick. I mean, the exercise helped too, but the human body is a whole thing and needs completeness in nutrition to make the exercise work. What gets me is, I moved less then. I was in high school. I sat for seven hours a day, five days a week.
I'm gonna go back to how I ate back then. It really shouldn't be too hard. I still don't drink a lot of soft drinks at all. Maybe once a week. I just know that the terrible food at BJU didn't help (and there weren't options unless you wanted a salad that took a chance on being slimy from wilted lettuce.)
So, I guess I'm going to give the hippie thing a try again. Feels pretty awesome.
First came the "burn 3500 calories a day" thing the summer before my freshman year. I literally sat for hours on the exercise bike we had, because there was nothing else to do. I couldn't drive, and we lived out on Highway 301. Not exactly within walking distance of a pool, and that summer, the pool we went to wasn't even open that much until mid-July. So I read a lot and sat on that bike and tried to burn off a pound a day while watching A Makeover Story on TLC. It didn't work, but hey, exercise, because we lived on the world's shortest dead-end road and didn't walk the dog much.
I started to go to the YMCA to work out when i was in tenth grade. Every day after school. It was good stuff. I also played softball, but let's be honest, it's not exactly an aerobic sport except for the ten seconds you're running to a base.
Okay, so, yeah, pretty general self-improvement, right?
Well, I also turned into sort of a hippie around the same time I got into Lord of the Rings. I gave up pork, avoided red meat, didn't drink soft drinks (at all, ever) for like a year, and ate a whole lot of veggie burgers and tofu. I gave up dairy milk in favor of soy milk, and I drank a ton of tea and water.
Lately I've been missing those days.
I know I was healthier then, mostly because of what I didn't eat. I felt good most of the time, except for the times when I was sick. I mean, the exercise helped too, but the human body is a whole thing and needs completeness in nutrition to make the exercise work. What gets me is, I moved less then. I was in high school. I sat for seven hours a day, five days a week.
I'm gonna go back to how I ate back then. It really shouldn't be too hard. I still don't drink a lot of soft drinks at all. Maybe once a week. I just know that the terrible food at BJU didn't help (and there weren't options unless you wanted a salad that took a chance on being slimy from wilted lettuce.)
So, I guess I'm going to give the hippie thing a try again. Feels pretty awesome.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Post Worship Munchies
I grew up in a church that started at 11:00 A.M on Sundays. When I started going to a new church, their second service started at 10:30. I'm really good at getting ready fast in the morning, so I'd get up at 9:30 on Sundays that I actually went to church.
My church now has switched to one Sunday service, which starts at 9:30. I have to get up at 8:30, but that's not too bad. (No, I'm not used to it because I didn't go to Sunday school all that much growing up.) With the new schedule, church lets out around 11:30 or before.
Today we were planning to eat lunch with our aunt, but her church starts at 11 and ends around 12:30, so we had a nice window of time between getting home and changing clothes.
Bring on the Sunday munchies.
I think I know why, too, because all my life, I grew up with the rigid schedule of church then lunch. And today, we had Triscuit crackers, which would be more accurately named Triscuit crack. Yes. I munched them along with two small cups of coffee. After actual lunch at Taco Bell, I crunched some numbers and figured some life changes out.
It's been a strange day of munching and crunching and making decisions that I won't divulge here quite yet. But I'm pretty excited.
Bring on the awesomeness.
My church now has switched to one Sunday service, which starts at 9:30. I have to get up at 8:30, but that's not too bad. (No, I'm not used to it because I didn't go to Sunday school all that much growing up.) With the new schedule, church lets out around 11:30 or before.
Today we were planning to eat lunch with our aunt, but her church starts at 11 and ends around 12:30, so we had a nice window of time between getting home and changing clothes.
Bring on the Sunday munchies.
I think I know why, too, because all my life, I grew up with the rigid schedule of church then lunch. And today, we had Triscuit crackers, which would be more accurately named Triscuit crack. Yes. I munched them along with two small cups of coffee. After actual lunch at Taco Bell, I crunched some numbers and figured some life changes out.
It's been a strange day of munching and crunching and making decisions that I won't divulge here quite yet. But I'm pretty excited.
Bring on the awesomeness.
Music
When I'm at the gym on the elliptical, listening to Pandora on my phone, my thoughts turn to the story I'm writing.
Like a lot.
And I realized some time back that my favorite songs form a sort of soundtrack to my books. I imagine scenes in my head to correspond with the songs, and that really helps.
Now, I don't absolutely have to be plugged in to my music to write, especially where pen and ink are concerned. The other day I got a lot done just because of the peace and quiet at work. It was great. But today, in the car on the way back from a family day trip to my Gramma's house, I turned on my Pandora app, which is constantly set to an Angels and Airwaves station, and went at it.
I got a lot done and left somewhat of a cliffhanger for myself. There's some definite character stuff and I'm almost to the end of that chapter. It was a really great part I was happy to get finished, because I liked it so much. I accomplished something today.
I guess all this to say, when the book is nearer to being ready, I'm going to put up a list of the songs that have found their way into my story, and I'll link to any videos I can find. You've probably heard them before; even better. It's really just an insight thing.
Anyway. I'm just excited about the amount of work I got done today. Along with the stuff I've figured out lately, it seems like it's all coming together.
It's a great feeling.
Like a lot.
And I realized some time back that my favorite songs form a sort of soundtrack to my books. I imagine scenes in my head to correspond with the songs, and that really helps.
Now, I don't absolutely have to be plugged in to my music to write, especially where pen and ink are concerned. The other day I got a lot done just because of the peace and quiet at work. It was great. But today, in the car on the way back from a family day trip to my Gramma's house, I turned on my Pandora app, which is constantly set to an Angels and Airwaves station, and went at it.
I got a lot done and left somewhat of a cliffhanger for myself. There's some definite character stuff and I'm almost to the end of that chapter. It was a really great part I was happy to get finished, because I liked it so much. I accomplished something today.
I guess all this to say, when the book is nearer to being ready, I'm going to put up a list of the songs that have found their way into my story, and I'll link to any videos I can find. You've probably heard them before; even better. It's really just an insight thing.
Anyway. I'm just excited about the amount of work I got done today. Along with the stuff I've figured out lately, it seems like it's all coming together.
It's a great feeling.
Friday, September 21, 2012
I've Got That Friday Feeling...
I have always loved Fridays. I know I'm not alone in that. The reasons have changed over the years, of course.
When I was younger, it meant I could stay up late, since I didn't have school in the morning. It kept that meaning as I grew, but added on that autumn Fridays were best, and there was nothing quite like football and hot apple cider. When I got into college, it meant hanging out with new friends, and the potential of Saturdays, because Greenville South Carolina is pretty cool if you like to shop, which I do. Even now, despite the fact that I work every other Saturday, there's just something about Fridays.
The potential, I guess. The feeling that Saturday is coming, and that's one day with no rules or alarm clocks (though I set mine sometimes for fun, in order to defiantly turn it off, because I'm weird like that) and nowhere you really have to be, and plenty of time to do fun stuff, like working on a book. I remember doing that as a teenager, when the first draft of the second book (yes, I wrote two whole, terrible novels and started a third one that improved) was penned.
Tomorrow, I'll be doing the same at some point. Last night, I finished up a part I'd been working at for several days, in which the characters encounter a creature I wrote when I was in high school and honestly never thought I'd see again. While it's in the text for only a short time, it's nice to have it back. I look forward to using it in the future, because in the original short story (same universe as the two novels) these things were scary, the one break from utter unintentional goofiness.
And about that third book I never finished...
It was the turning point. The story became darker, the need more urgent, and the situation more intense. It differed so much from the original, in a good way, that it became the major catalyst for rewriting the entire story from the beginning.
I'm glad I didn't finish it, because you know that always means the story's not over yet.
When I was younger, it meant I could stay up late, since I didn't have school in the morning. It kept that meaning as I grew, but added on that autumn Fridays were best, and there was nothing quite like football and hot apple cider. When I got into college, it meant hanging out with new friends, and the potential of Saturdays, because Greenville South Carolina is pretty cool if you like to shop, which I do. Even now, despite the fact that I work every other Saturday, there's just something about Fridays.
The potential, I guess. The feeling that Saturday is coming, and that's one day with no rules or alarm clocks (though I set mine sometimes for fun, in order to defiantly turn it off, because I'm weird like that) and nowhere you really have to be, and plenty of time to do fun stuff, like working on a book. I remember doing that as a teenager, when the first draft of the second book (yes, I wrote two whole, terrible novels and started a third one that improved) was penned.
Tomorrow, I'll be doing the same at some point. Last night, I finished up a part I'd been working at for several days, in which the characters encounter a creature I wrote when I was in high school and honestly never thought I'd see again. While it's in the text for only a short time, it's nice to have it back. I look forward to using it in the future, because in the original short story (same universe as the two novels) these things were scary, the one break from utter unintentional goofiness.
And about that third book I never finished...
It was the turning point. The story became darker, the need more urgent, and the situation more intense. It differed so much from the original, in a good way, that it became the major catalyst for rewriting the entire story from the beginning.
I'm glad I didn't finish it, because you know that always means the story's not over yet.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Halloween!
Last night I made myself stay up and write. I was about this close to going to bed without pulling that notebook out of my computer bag and writing at least a page.
But I did.
I'm pretty tired, because I sort of tend to get lost in the moment when I'm writing by hand, but I'm glad I did it. I was desparate to get it done enough that the scene doesn't drag, not at all, because at that part, the main chararacter is pretty desperate herself.
This 30 days thing is not so easy. I mean, I talk all the time. I have a rant ready for every occasion, according to family. I should be able to do this every day, but it's harder than I thought it would be.
A visit to Target last night got me all ready for Halloween and Christmas. I know, I know, those aren't that connected, especially depending on what church you go to. But for me they are.
See, a huge chunk of my family was born in the fall and winter months. For my dad's side of the family, it's one big celebration from the beginning of October (dad's birthday) to the end of January, during which time there are a lot of birthday parties, burgers on the grill (let's face it, I live in North Carolina; it's still hot until November), and pizzas consumed.
And that's all separate from Thanksgiving and Christmas.
That's why I love Halloween. Something in the air changes. My birthday falls three days before. All the shows I watch have "Halloween" episodes. People in my neighborhood decorate, which means lots of twinkling orange lights and grinning pumpkins.
For me, Halloween officially kicks off the Christmas season, and that's when the real decorations come out.
Christmas will be tougher this year. I mean, physically. While Minnie used to prod at the tree skirt and rough it up to make it comfortable, Pippa will, I believe, enjoy drinking out of the stand. I mean, she's discovered the joys of toilet water this week, so sap water should be even better. She also will most likely yank ornaments off the tree and possibly will unwrap presents.
Oh boy.
So, here's to the start of the Christmas and Halloween seasons.
But I did.
I'm pretty tired, because I sort of tend to get lost in the moment when I'm writing by hand, but I'm glad I did it. I was desparate to get it done enough that the scene doesn't drag, not at all, because at that part, the main chararacter is pretty desperate herself.
This 30 days thing is not so easy. I mean, I talk all the time. I have a rant ready for every occasion, according to family. I should be able to do this every day, but it's harder than I thought it would be.
A visit to Target last night got me all ready for Halloween and Christmas. I know, I know, those aren't that connected, especially depending on what church you go to. But for me they are.
See, a huge chunk of my family was born in the fall and winter months. For my dad's side of the family, it's one big celebration from the beginning of October (dad's birthday) to the end of January, during which time there are a lot of birthday parties, burgers on the grill (let's face it, I live in North Carolina; it's still hot until November), and pizzas consumed.
And that's all separate from Thanksgiving and Christmas.
That's why I love Halloween. Something in the air changes. My birthday falls three days before. All the shows I watch have "Halloween" episodes. People in my neighborhood decorate, which means lots of twinkling orange lights and grinning pumpkins.
For me, Halloween officially kicks off the Christmas season, and that's when the real decorations come out.
Christmas will be tougher this year. I mean, physically. While Minnie used to prod at the tree skirt and rough it up to make it comfortable, Pippa will, I believe, enjoy drinking out of the stand. I mean, she's discovered the joys of toilet water this week, so sap water should be even better. She also will most likely yank ornaments off the tree and possibly will unwrap presents.
Oh boy.
So, here's to the start of the Christmas and Halloween seasons.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Book Review: Grimoire: Lichgates by S.M. Boyce
Today you get a book review.
Ever since my hometown library and local bookstore both displayed a depressing inability to stock the books I liked when I was a teenager, I looked for the perfect "young person goes on epic adventure" book. I've been able to find books that I've massively enjoyed, of course, but I still like the coziness of a nice, warm adventure. It's like a great cup of chai in paper and glue form.
Or, in this case, digital.
I actually bought the Kindle version of Lichgates because it was pretty affordable, but Boyce also has a paperback version available. I used my phone to read most of the book and, eyestrain notwithstanding, really enjoyed it.
The book starts out with Kara, one of the main characters, going on a hike in the mountains and stumbling on something called a Lichgate that leads somewhere else. Before this even happens though, the reader is drawn in by the main character's emotional struggles, the reasons for which are revealed slowly. We also get into the head of Braden, a dude from Ourea, who first forms a friendship with Kara that hints at something more. Lichgates is far from being a romance, though. It's just sheer adventure.
One thing I liked was that it was free of long, drawn-out explanations of every moment in a duel between two swordsmen. It described if the characters were fighting, but the author really seems to understand how to keep the audience interested.
I very much recommend Grimoire: Lichgates to anyone looking for a good book to read this weekend.
Ever since my hometown library and local bookstore both displayed a depressing inability to stock the books I liked when I was a teenager, I looked for the perfect "young person goes on epic adventure" book. I've been able to find books that I've massively enjoyed, of course, but I still like the coziness of a nice, warm adventure. It's like a great cup of chai in paper and glue form.
Or, in this case, digital.
I actually bought the Kindle version of Lichgates because it was pretty affordable, but Boyce also has a paperback version available. I used my phone to read most of the book and, eyestrain notwithstanding, really enjoyed it.
The book starts out with Kara, one of the main characters, going on a hike in the mountains and stumbling on something called a Lichgate that leads somewhere else. Before this even happens though, the reader is drawn in by the main character's emotional struggles, the reasons for which are revealed slowly. We also get into the head of Braden, a dude from Ourea, who first forms a friendship with Kara that hints at something more. Lichgates is far from being a romance, though. It's just sheer adventure.
One thing I liked was that it was free of long, drawn-out explanations of every moment in a duel between two swordsmen. It described if the characters were fighting, but the author really seems to understand how to keep the audience interested.
I very much recommend Grimoire: Lichgates to anyone looking for a good book to read this weekend.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
This Is Getting Harder
Man, I'm writing every day but I don't feel like I'm saying anything. I mean, I could get political, but that's a little too easy right now, and I need some time to get that post together.
The book's going well, but right now I'm staying up too late and writing far too little in it each time. But a little bit of writing is getting done, which is more than I can say for before I started this thing. I wish I had a long time ago. I guess I just didn't think about it, and I figured "oh well, I love to write, it'll just come automatically."
It doesn't.
Even when you enjoy something creative, it's never automatic. You'll want to put things off, and you'll get things wrong, and suddenly it's a week later and you haven't done anything.
I think this is why people get stressed over weddings.
Well, that clicked.
The book's going well, but right now I'm staying up too late and writing far too little in it each time. But a little bit of writing is getting done, which is more than I can say for before I started this thing. I wish I had a long time ago. I guess I just didn't think about it, and I figured "oh well, I love to write, it'll just come automatically."
It doesn't.
Even when you enjoy something creative, it's never automatic. You'll want to put things off, and you'll get things wrong, and suddenly it's a week later and you haven't done anything.
I think this is why people get stressed over weddings.
Well, that clicked.
Monday, September 17, 2012
If I Could Do That Every Day
So last night, between the last posting and the time I went to bed, I got out my pen and notebook and went to work. Though I had to make myself stop since it was getting quite late, I made myself stop at a good pause point, with an idea of what's coming next. That's the best part.
The hardest part, honestly, is staying in my main character's head. I don't go into any other characters' heads; they are revealed through dialog and action. It's a good thing the book's a raw draft. That means I can fix it later. I'm up to the challenge.
Tonight I hope to sit down a little earlier with my notebook, especially now that I have an idea of what's happening next. I mean, I know how the book will end, but the details are super important, especially what comes next. It's finally exciting. There's a home stretch, and even if the raw draft isn't quite finished by the end of this 30 day thing, then a good huge important part of it will be. And that is truly exciting.
The hardest part, honestly, is staying in my main character's head. I don't go into any other characters' heads; they are revealed through dialog and action. It's a good thing the book's a raw draft. That means I can fix it later. I'm up to the challenge.
Tonight I hope to sit down a little earlier with my notebook, especially now that I have an idea of what's happening next. I mean, I know how the book will end, but the details are super important, especially what comes next. It's finally exciting. There's a home stretch, and even if the raw draft isn't quite finished by the end of this 30 day thing, then a good huge important part of it will be. And that is truly exciting.
And Again
So, technically, y'all will be getting two posts on this date. Oh well. I stay up too late.
So far, I've faithfully taken some time every day, before I go to bed, to write a blog post and work on the book. It's honestly getting a little harder, but I like filling out the chart, and knowing I can each night is really cool.
I know, it's sad, isn't it?
Anyway, it's really getting good. Because I've exclusively been working in pen and paper, writing is fun again. I feel like there's no such thing as writer's block when I'm doing it the old-fashioned way. I don't sit and stare at a blinking cursor or scroll desperately to look for things or get distracted and start editing. I just write, and it feels good to be doing that again. It would probably be a whole lot quicker to only write on the computer, but that's not me.
When I'm working on the novel, I use a speckled composition notebook and a Pilot pen. I don't use anything else. I even replace the cartridges, because it is cheaper than buying new pens, and Walmart started carrying blue again. I think it's the little ritual there that feels so good, or maybe the way the ink flows so well and how the blue just jumps off the white page.
The first version of this book, for the first and second drafts, were completely handwritten in whatever ballpoint I could find, on stacks of paper stapled together. Literally. I kept the sheets in my pocketbook and I carried backups. I still have the paper, and I have no plans to get rid of them. Most of the book was written in my ninth grade World Geography class. When the second draft was finished, I typed it on my family's Gateway desktop.
Things have come a long way since then, but there's still nothing quite like putting pen to paper and just writing. Such a good feeling.
So far, I've faithfully taken some time every day, before I go to bed, to write a blog post and work on the book. It's honestly getting a little harder, but I like filling out the chart, and knowing I can each night is really cool.
I know, it's sad, isn't it?
Anyway, it's really getting good. Because I've exclusively been working in pen and paper, writing is fun again. I feel like there's no such thing as writer's block when I'm doing it the old-fashioned way. I don't sit and stare at a blinking cursor or scroll desperately to look for things or get distracted and start editing. I just write, and it feels good to be doing that again. It would probably be a whole lot quicker to only write on the computer, but that's not me.
When I'm working on the novel, I use a speckled composition notebook and a Pilot pen. I don't use anything else. I even replace the cartridges, because it is cheaper than buying new pens, and Walmart started carrying blue again. I think it's the little ritual there that feels so good, or maybe the way the ink flows so well and how the blue just jumps off the white page.
The first version of this book, for the first and second drafts, were completely handwritten in whatever ballpoint I could find, on stacks of paper stapled together. Literally. I kept the sheets in my pocketbook and I carried backups. I still have the paper, and I have no plans to get rid of them. Most of the book was written in my ninth grade World Geography class. When the second draft was finished, I typed it on my family's Gateway desktop.
Things have come a long way since then, but there's still nothing quite like putting pen to paper and just writing. Such a good feeling.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
This is Awesome
So I had this one character I wanted to show up at some point, and I wasn't sure where to put him in.
He showed up last night, right where I didn't know I wanted him.
Like I literally wasn't sure where he was going to pop up, and now that he's there, I also have more of a direction for a part I was getting increasingly nervous about approaching. And now it's working out.
I love this.
In other news, there's some more (non-fiction) writing work opening up for me, which will hopefully allow me to make some changes. I'm excited. It's a little stressful to think about, but hey. At least working for myself means I spend little to nothing on gas.
I really hope I'm as inspired as I feel, because I seriously have some wedding stuff to do.
Also Doctor Who is on tonight.
He showed up last night, right where I didn't know I wanted him.
Like I literally wasn't sure where he was going to pop up, and now that he's there, I also have more of a direction for a part I was getting increasingly nervous about approaching. And now it's working out.
I love this.
In other news, there's some more (non-fiction) writing work opening up for me, which will hopefully allow me to make some changes. I'm excited. It's a little stressful to think about, but hey. At least working for myself means I spend little to nothing on gas.
I really hope I'm as inspired as I feel, because I seriously have some wedding stuff to do.
Also Doctor Who is on tonight.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Unique Just Like Everyone Else...
When I was in kindergarten, I somehow got ahold of and understood the whole "bring the teacher an apple" thing.
I gave my teacher an orange.
I thought I was terribly unique.
I think since then, I've been seeking that same feeling of triumph, the pride that comes with knowing you're different than everyone else.
When I'm working on my novel, and things are getting tedious, and it's starting to seem like some really slow spy movie that could hardly be called a "thriller," I still sometimes push on. Even when I know a scene doesn't belong and I don't like it anymore, because hey, it's different.
I don't think I'm going to do that anymore.
I'm also not going to change things just because they aren't different enough. I think I may have included, by accident, a creature in the story that could possibly be confused with a certain mythological creature (and I'll let you figure which one.) While looking something up the other day, I realized that this creature might be in my story, by accident, and that my turn off some people.
But I love that part of the story way too much, and not in a bad way. It's a major piece of the plot. It's important, it's terrifying, and without it, well, there might just be a drama about two high school kids facing the perils of college applications and standardized testing.
Plus I have not once, since that realization, thought "oh, maybe I should change it..."
It's my story. It's unique because it's my voice, because it has substance, and because there's much more to it than uniqueness for the sake of being different.
I gave my teacher an orange.
I thought I was terribly unique.
I think since then, I've been seeking that same feeling of triumph, the pride that comes with knowing you're different than everyone else.
When I'm working on my novel, and things are getting tedious, and it's starting to seem like some really slow spy movie that could hardly be called a "thriller," I still sometimes push on. Even when I know a scene doesn't belong and I don't like it anymore, because hey, it's different.
I don't think I'm going to do that anymore.
I'm also not going to change things just because they aren't different enough. I think I may have included, by accident, a creature in the story that could possibly be confused with a certain mythological creature (and I'll let you figure which one.) While looking something up the other day, I realized that this creature might be in my story, by accident, and that my turn off some people.
But I love that part of the story way too much, and not in a bad way. It's a major piece of the plot. It's important, it's terrifying, and without it, well, there might just be a drama about two high school kids facing the perils of college applications and standardized testing.
Plus I have not once, since that realization, thought "oh, maybe I should change it..."
It's my story. It's unique because it's my voice, because it has substance, and because there's much more to it than uniqueness for the sake of being different.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Weddings and Book Covers
Okay, so one of the weirdest things I've been mentally fussing over lately is cover design. Books need covers, even if they're only published digitally. There still needs to be something that says "hey! check me out!" and while I'm great at decorating myself when the mood arises, I'm stressing a little over the cover.
Thankfully, I've been able to put it out of my head for a bit while I concentrate on the actual writing, which I guess is the whole point of doing the 30 days thing. The novel is what's important, ultimately.
Still, I've seen some really awful covers out there, and I really don't want that for my work.
I glance longingly at the covers of Harry Potter, Eragon, Twilight, and others, because, like the book or not, the art for those books, and many others like them, is just so gorgeous. They have the benefit of a professional designer working for them.
I don't, nor can I afford one.
So I do worry a little.
But, I guess it's like my mom said to me the other night when we were watching an episode of Bridezillas and the awful person of the week was freaking out. I had said something like, why get stressed over stupid stuff. (I think I might have spoken too quickly...I sorta forgot about bridesmaid dresses amid all the goal-setting and book writing. Bleh.) I got a reality check when my mom told me to remember that when things did get a little stressful on my future wedding day, but that, regardless of what happens, you're still married.
I'm so applying that to my book.
Thankfully, I've been able to put it out of my head for a bit while I concentrate on the actual writing, which I guess is the whole point of doing the 30 days thing. The novel is what's important, ultimately.
Still, I've seen some really awful covers out there, and I really don't want that for my work.
I glance longingly at the covers of Harry Potter, Eragon, Twilight, and others, because, like the book or not, the art for those books, and many others like them, is just so gorgeous. They have the benefit of a professional designer working for them.
I don't, nor can I afford one.
So I do worry a little.
But, I guess it's like my mom said to me the other night when we were watching an episode of Bridezillas and the awful person of the week was freaking out. I had said something like, why get stressed over stupid stuff. (I think I might have spoken too quickly...I sorta forgot about bridesmaid dresses amid all the goal-setting and book writing. Bleh.) I got a reality check when my mom told me to remember that when things did get a little stressful on my future wedding day, but that, regardless of what happens, you're still married.
I'm so applying that to my book.
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