I have about 14 minutes before class starts ... my first one of the day and it's math and I'm not ready for the quiz we have. I am quite certain I forgot EVERY math related thing I learned over the fall semester.
However, there is reason to celebrate. Last night, I bought my tickets to the March 12th, 2013 Pittsburgh Penguins game against the Boston Bruins! I am so excited I can hardly contain myself. I have every minute detail of every mile of the journey planned. I have a list of things to do in the city that is at least as long as my arm. There are 27 octillion photographs planned.
I am the happiest girl in the world right now. I wish today was March 11th. I'm finally going to get to see my city ... and I'm fully prepared to call back home and have my things shipped to Pittsburgh because I'm sure once I get there, I'll never want to come home again.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Progress
Progress has been made. Effie is moving along very nicely. I'm only a few hundred words ahead of schedule and still plan to do a little more writing tonight (actually it's the wee hours of the morning) before I head to bed.
Currently, my story has about 82,000 words and 260 pages but just for the month of January, I have 20,400 words. You see that little ticker on the left side of the page just below the button that says "50k in 31 Days"? That's right ... it says 40%.
I shouldn't be surprised that I can actually hammer out words when I need to, but I'm super duper, totally, supremely, extraordinarily happy that those words are happening in January instead of counting down the days to the next edition of NaNoWriMo.
And since I'm here anyway, I'll share with you the photo I took for 1.11.13 --- water.
Despite multiple attempts urging my husband to please clean up the back half of the deck where all the garden stuff was, he has obviously failed to comply and this is photographic proof. We watched 10 inches of snow melt in just 3 days and this planter witnessed it all.
Currently, my story has about 82,000 words and 260 pages but just for the month of January, I have 20,400 words. You see that little ticker on the left side of the page just below the button that says "50k in 31 Days"? That's right ... it says 40%.
I shouldn't be surprised that I can actually hammer out words when I need to, but I'm super duper, totally, supremely, extraordinarily happy that those words are happening in January instead of counting down the days to the next edition of NaNoWriMo.
And since I'm here anyway, I'll share with you the photo I took for 1.11.13 --- water.
Despite multiple attempts urging my husband to please clean up the back half of the deck where all the garden stuff was, he has obviously failed to comply and this is photographic proof. We watched 10 inches of snow melt in just 3 days and this planter witnessed it all.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Project 365 (2013)
Okay, I admit I'm far behind the times. I've heard of Project 365. I have a few Facebook friends who consistently post pictures labeled "Project 365". I knew the gist of what it was and thought it would be super cool to participate. Participating in this year's photo campaign was a mini goal for me, especially since I'd gotten a new camera for Christmas. I figured it would be a great way to learn all the features on my camera.
By no means am I a photographer or photography enthusiast. I think I'm far too literal most of the time to really be a good photographer, but I digress ...
The point I'm getting at is that I missed the first 8 days of January. I might have cheated and tried to catch up but the very first picture theme was "Today", and seeing as how I took no New Year's photos, I figured it was best to begin the project with my integrity intact.
So ........ here are the two photographs so far this year.
1.9.13 --- Paper
(This is part of the cork board calendar I made to keep track of when school assignments are due. The 14th is the first day of of the spring semester.)
1.10.13 --- One o'clock
(I wasn't very prepared today so I had to improvise. My television has been tuned to NHLN all day, every day since news of the lockout ending was made public.)
By no means am I a photographer or photography enthusiast. I think I'm far too literal most of the time to really be a good photographer, but I digress ...
The point I'm getting at is that I missed the first 8 days of January. I might have cheated and tried to catch up but the very first picture theme was "Today", and seeing as how I took no New Year's photos, I figured it was best to begin the project with my integrity intact.
So ........ here are the two photographs so far this year.
1.9.13 --- Paper
(This is part of the cork board calendar I made to keep track of when school assignments are due. The 14th is the first day of of the spring semester.)
1.10.13 --- One o'clock
(I wasn't very prepared today so I had to improvise. My television has been tuned to NHLN all day, every day since news of the lockout ending was made public.)
Insomnia, Hockey, and Antibiotics
So far, I'm on the fence about whether this year is off to a great start or not.
Pros: The NHL came back from the lockout.
I get to start planning my Pittsburgh trip.
My writing has come a bit easier than in non-NaNo months.
Just a few weeks away from getting my new laptop.
Cons: I haven't been to bed before 4 a.m. since January began.
My son had strep throat, tonsilitis, and an ear infection all at once. At one
point, I was waking every four hours to give him antibiotics, although I wasn't
sure I was actually sleeping when my eyes were closed.
My car was towed away while visiting a friend at their apartment because
apparently there's a sign at the gate to the apartments that only residence with
permits are allowed to park in the front row. It was buried under under the
forty-seven feet of snow dumped on our Midwest town.
I haven't written in a few days, but I'm not discouraged. I've been busy being a mom. Even still, I'm only about 500 words away from being right on schedule for my 50K in 31 Days challenge. So, while the house is quiet and I'm not dead tired, I'm going to go write. My goal is to finish the chapter I'm currently working on.
Wish me luck!
Pros: The NHL came back from the lockout.
I get to start planning my Pittsburgh trip.
My writing has come a bit easier than in non-NaNo months.
Just a few weeks away from getting my new laptop.
Cons: I haven't been to bed before 4 a.m. since January began.
My son had strep throat, tonsilitis, and an ear infection all at once. At one
point, I was waking every four hours to give him antibiotics, although I wasn't
sure I was actually sleeping when my eyes were closed.
My car was towed away while visiting a friend at their apartment because
apparently there's a sign at the gate to the apartments that only residence with
permits are allowed to park in the front row. It was buried under under the
forty-seven feet of snow dumped on our Midwest town.
I haven't written in a few days, but I'm not discouraged. I've been busy being a mom. Even still, I'm only about 500 words away from being right on schedule for my 50K in 31 Days challenge. So, while the house is quiet and I'm not dead tired, I'm going to go write. My goal is to finish the chapter I'm currently working on.
Wish me luck!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Meteor Shower!!
That exclamatory title was the embodiment of my attitude yesterday when I found out there was going to be a meteor shower at 3 a.m. Stay up until then? No problem! I felt all spontaneous and inspired. It'd give me the perfect excuse to go out and use my new camera. I had all these wonderful little cotton candy dreams about becoming the next Sally Gall of night time photography.
Did I mention I live in the Midwest where it is currently freezing and where about twelve inches of snow is still waiting to melt?
We live in the city, not the inner city, but close enough that it'd be difficult to catch the meteor shower because of city lights. No problem though. I called my mother and made sure it was okay that I show up in her driveway at 3 a.m. and wait to be amazed by the splendor of alien nature. She lives in a small rural/suburban town where the closest they come to street lights are the headlights from cars on the interstate.
So I packed up the truck with blankets, over-sized couch cushions, a big fluffy robe with a hood, my laptop and car charger, my camera, and I headed for my parents place at two in the morning. I get to their driveway, throw the pillows in the bed of the truck and lay down, wearing my winter coat, my fluffy bath robe with the hood, my winter Penguins hat, two pairs of socks and prepare to be amazed by the splendor of outer space.
It was seven degrees.
And I lasted about 45 minutes. I might have held out a little longer if I wasn't sure my brand new camera would have fossilized in the cold. Ready to see my super spectacular moment captured in time via digital photography?
Prepare to be amazed ...
No, don't adjust your monitor settings. Those first two pics are not the same. They're two different photos. If you look carefully enough, you'll see the faintest smidge of a gray star in the second picture. The third picture, well, I think that's a star but at that point my fingers were about to give in to frost bite so it looks a little more like a streaking meteor than it actually is.
It didn't help that a blanket of fog was rolling through the area, or that our local Fox affiliate posted contradictory "optimal viewing times" than did NASA.
And to top the story off, I had to call my sleeping-has-to-get-up-in-a-few-hours-told-me-it-was-a-bad-idea husband to talk me through switching the truck to four wheel drive because while all the streets leading to my parents were clear of snow and ice, the cul-de-sac they live on (with a slightly uphill angle when exiting) was most assuredly not de-iced. I seriously contemplated camping out in the middle of the road until dawn, when my step-dad would be leaving to work, and asking him to help me figure out how to drive uphill all so I could avoid calling my husband and admitting he was right ... but the idea of loitering in my parents' neighborhood during the predawn hours in the middle of an Arctic freeze was even less appealing than admitting there's a slim chance my husband was right and it was a waste of time, and that I'm not, in fact, the next Sally Gall.
Did I mention I live in the Midwest where it is currently freezing and where about twelve inches of snow is still waiting to melt?
We live in the city, not the inner city, but close enough that it'd be difficult to catch the meteor shower because of city lights. No problem though. I called my mother and made sure it was okay that I show up in her driveway at 3 a.m. and wait to be amazed by the splendor of alien nature. She lives in a small rural/suburban town where the closest they come to street lights are the headlights from cars on the interstate.
So I packed up the truck with blankets, over-sized couch cushions, a big fluffy robe with a hood, my laptop and car charger, my camera, and I headed for my parents place at two in the morning. I get to their driveway, throw the pillows in the bed of the truck and lay down, wearing my winter coat, my fluffy bath robe with the hood, my winter Penguins hat, two pairs of socks and prepare to be amazed by the splendor of outer space.
It was seven degrees.
And I lasted about 45 minutes. I might have held out a little longer if I wasn't sure my brand new camera would have fossilized in the cold. Ready to see my super spectacular moment captured in time via digital photography?
Prepare to be amazed ...
No, don't adjust your monitor settings. Those first two pics are not the same. They're two different photos. If you look carefully enough, you'll see the faintest smidge of a gray star in the second picture. The third picture, well, I think that's a star but at that point my fingers were about to give in to frost bite so it looks a little more like a streaking meteor than it actually is.
It didn't help that a blanket of fog was rolling through the area, or that our local Fox affiliate posted contradictory "optimal viewing times" than did NASA.
And to top the story off, I had to call my sleeping-has-to-get-up-in-a-few-hours-told-me-it-was-a-bad-idea husband to talk me through switching the truck to four wheel drive because while all the streets leading to my parents were clear of snow and ice, the cul-de-sac they live on (with a slightly uphill angle when exiting) was most assuredly not de-iced. I seriously contemplated camping out in the middle of the road until dawn, when my step-dad would be leaving to work, and asking him to help me figure out how to drive uphill all so I could avoid calling my husband and admitting he was right ... but the idea of loitering in my parents' neighborhood during the predawn hours in the middle of an Arctic freeze was even less appealing than admitting there's a slim chance my husband was right and it was a waste of time, and that I'm not, in fact, the next Sally Gall.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
50k in 31 Days
Okay, so I'm a little obsessed with NaNoWriMo. As I've mentioned in other posts, it's the one time of the year where I seem to get things done. Having a goal and a deadline do wonders for my word count so a friend of mine came up with the idea to do NaNoWriMo throughout the year.
That's right ... a year of NaNoWriMo.
Through a quick Google search of NaNoWriMo spreadsheets, she found this awesome website that has done all the super hard spreadsheet stuff for you! A great big thanks to Svenja for the phenomenal effort. These new spreadsheets include a calendar for the entire year so you can pretty much so tailor your writing goals yourself and still feel like you have goal/deadline to meet.
So that's what I'm doing right now. I'm learning the ins and outs of the new spreadsheets and inputting my word count for today ... 3649
That's right, there are 25 minutes left in this east coast first day of the year and I have 3649 words already. The power of a deadline!
That's right ... a year of NaNoWriMo.
Through a quick Google search of NaNoWriMo spreadsheets, she found this awesome website that has done all the super hard spreadsheet stuff for you! A great big thanks to Svenja for the phenomenal effort. These new spreadsheets include a calendar for the entire year so you can pretty much so tailor your writing goals yourself and still feel like you have goal/deadline to meet.
So that's what I'm doing right now. I'm learning the ins and outs of the new spreadsheets and inputting my word count for today ... 3649
That's right, there are 25 minutes left in this east coast first day of the year and I have 3649 words already. The power of a deadline!
Monday, December 31, 2012
See You Next Year ... And Not Because I Plan to Forget the Blog for Another Year
2013 is mere hours away at this point. It's snowing ... again. And while I loathe slippery roads and shoveling snow, I actually really love watching snow fall before it is trampled by salt trucks and exhaust fumes. Somehow, it is a fitting end to yet another year in which we survived an apocalypse of some kind. Our little patch of Earth is covered in snow. George, our garden gargoyle, is buried under a frozen mound of it somewhere in the yard. I told myself I'd rescue him from his icy prison but I haven't made good on that promise yet.
As I look out on the last snowy night of 2012, I'm tempted to scramble and make new year's resolutions I know I'll never keep. The house is quiet. I'm here alone. All there is, is time to think. I've never been one for new year's resolutions but I do plan to make some changes in the coming year. I won't list them here because I'd hate for them to be used as evidence against me this time next year, but the intentions are good.
I'd like to share with you all, a list of things I've learned over this past year ...
1. I'm a pretty lucky girl. I have an amazing husband and one of the coolest kids, ever. I didn't learn that this year. I've known for a while, but reflection always seems to start at this point.
2. Volunteering my time at a hospice organization was probably the greatest thing I've one this year. I haven't been there long, only a few months, but I'm supremely proud the work I do there. I'm not so much proud of myself as I am proud of the difference I make. Every day when I go in to me my patients, they are genuinely happy to see me. One lady fell asleep shortly after our visit and when I thought I'd leave to give her some time to rest, she told me it's just nice knowing someone else is there with her even if she's just sleeping. I don't have to do much. I just visit for a few hours a week, but it makes me feel so good to know that I'm a part of helping people, of taking away a few hours of loneliness every week when a person needs it most. That is an amazing feeling and I'm happy for the opportunity to do what I do.
3. Having an NHL season taken away during the season I intended to go to Pittsburgh and actually catch my first live NHL game was a soul-crushing event I'll only recover from when the NHL resumes.
4. You're never too old to go back to college ... or go for the first time as was my case this summer.
5. My son did not inherit my imagination, something I discovered while watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas when he so very seriously informed me that the Grinch would be physically incapable of stealing Christmas if his heart were indeed two sizes too small.
6. Sometimes, letting go of toxic people is for the best, even when it makes you feel guilty because they're close family or friends. You cannot wait around for happiness. Life is short. You cannot let yourself get sucked into a a tangled web of crazy chaos just because you share the same bloodline with someone. And that's OKAY.
7. Avatar: The Last Airbender is the greatest cartoon ever invented in the history of animation and no amount of argument or persuasion will ever change my mind on this theory. As a wannabe writer, I think it has all the elements of what makes a great story. There are good characters. There are bad characters. There's romance and laughter. There's awesome secondary characters and multiple settings that somehow become secondary characters in a really quiet but obvious way. Prince Zuko, the ultimate character. Starts out a bad guy with a supremely wise uncle at his side. The banished and disgraced Prince of the Fire Lord out tracking the Avatar in order to reclaim his honor and his rightful place as heir to the Fire Nation. But right away you can see how tortured he is. There's good in him, but it's never that simple. Every time you think he's taken a step toward progress, something sends him right back to scheming and conniving and hunting for the Avatar. He's an amazing character and probably the reason I love the show so much.
8. Nothing makes me happier than when my son tells me he's proud of me. There is this inconceivable moment where I feel like I must have heard wrong. It takes a few moments for these words to sink in but when they do, my heart aches with pride in him. I am raising a good boy and I am sure he doesn't even realize just how much it means to me ... almost like I'm the kid and he's the parent. It's a beautiful feeling.
9. On the other hand, I may have mothered him a little too much. During our recent cooking lessons in which I try to teach him to be self-sufficient and independent because he is only eight short years from being an adult, he recently asked me why he had to learn to cook and clean and do laundry. And I quote, "Won't there be someone at my apartment to cook and clean?" To which I replied, "No son, you're thinking of a hotel."
10. Apparently my love of the Pittsburgh Penguins extends to any object that has the image of any penguin on it as my Christmas presents this year included a penguin blanket, a penguin gift card, penguin pajamas, a stuffed penguin, and a Christmas penguin gift bag that hid the backpack on wheels I requested.
I'm sure there are other important things I learned this year that I could have included in this post, but these are the ones that jumped out at me and asked to be observed. I hope you all have a wonderful, safe new year celebration and may you be happy, healthy, and lucky all the days of 2013!
Happy New Year!!
As I look out on the last snowy night of 2012, I'm tempted to scramble and make new year's resolutions I know I'll never keep. The house is quiet. I'm here alone. All there is, is time to think. I've never been one for new year's resolutions but I do plan to make some changes in the coming year. I won't list them here because I'd hate for them to be used as evidence against me this time next year, but the intentions are good.
I'd like to share with you all, a list of things I've learned over this past year ...
1. I'm a pretty lucky girl. I have an amazing husband and one of the coolest kids, ever. I didn't learn that this year. I've known for a while, but reflection always seems to start at this point.
2. Volunteering my time at a hospice organization was probably the greatest thing I've one this year. I haven't been there long, only a few months, but I'm supremely proud the work I do there. I'm not so much proud of myself as I am proud of the difference I make. Every day when I go in to me my patients, they are genuinely happy to see me. One lady fell asleep shortly after our visit and when I thought I'd leave to give her some time to rest, she told me it's just nice knowing someone else is there with her even if she's just sleeping. I don't have to do much. I just visit for a few hours a week, but it makes me feel so good to know that I'm a part of helping people, of taking away a few hours of loneliness every week when a person needs it most. That is an amazing feeling and I'm happy for the opportunity to do what I do.
3. Having an NHL season taken away during the season I intended to go to Pittsburgh and actually catch my first live NHL game was a soul-crushing event I'll only recover from when the NHL resumes.
4. You're never too old to go back to college ... or go for the first time as was my case this summer.
5. My son did not inherit my imagination, something I discovered while watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas when he so very seriously informed me that the Grinch would be physically incapable of stealing Christmas if his heart were indeed two sizes too small.
6. Sometimes, letting go of toxic people is for the best, even when it makes you feel guilty because they're close family or friends. You cannot wait around for happiness. Life is short. You cannot let yourself get sucked into a a tangled web of crazy chaos just because you share the same bloodline with someone. And that's OKAY.
7. Avatar: The Last Airbender is the greatest cartoon ever invented in the history of animation and no amount of argument or persuasion will ever change my mind on this theory. As a wannabe writer, I think it has all the elements of what makes a great story. There are good characters. There are bad characters. There's romance and laughter. There's awesome secondary characters and multiple settings that somehow become secondary characters in a really quiet but obvious way. Prince Zuko, the ultimate character. Starts out a bad guy with a supremely wise uncle at his side. The banished and disgraced Prince of the Fire Lord out tracking the Avatar in order to reclaim his honor and his rightful place as heir to the Fire Nation. But right away you can see how tortured he is. There's good in him, but it's never that simple. Every time you think he's taken a step toward progress, something sends him right back to scheming and conniving and hunting for the Avatar. He's an amazing character and probably the reason I love the show so much.
8. Nothing makes me happier than when my son tells me he's proud of me. There is this inconceivable moment where I feel like I must have heard wrong. It takes a few moments for these words to sink in but when they do, my heart aches with pride in him. I am raising a good boy and I am sure he doesn't even realize just how much it means to me ... almost like I'm the kid and he's the parent. It's a beautiful feeling.
9. On the other hand, I may have mothered him a little too much. During our recent cooking lessons in which I try to teach him to be self-sufficient and independent because he is only eight short years from being an adult, he recently asked me why he had to learn to cook and clean and do laundry. And I quote, "Won't there be someone at my apartment to cook and clean?" To which I replied, "No son, you're thinking of a hotel."
10. Apparently my love of the Pittsburgh Penguins extends to any object that has the image of any penguin on it as my Christmas presents this year included a penguin blanket, a penguin gift card, penguin pajamas, a stuffed penguin, and a Christmas penguin gift bag that hid the backpack on wheels I requested.
I'm sure there are other important things I learned this year that I could have included in this post, but these are the ones that jumped out at me and asked to be observed. I hope you all have a wonderful, safe new year celebration and may you be happy, healthy, and lucky all the days of 2013!
Happy New Year!!
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Forgetful Misadventures
I keep promising myself that I won't forget to blog. I keep promising myself that I'll find something to blog about. I keep promising myself that I won't listen to the blog advice that warns not to write about yourself because you're really not that interesting or the blog advice that warns not to give out too much writing advice because sometimes you're the only one who really knows what you're talking about.
Truth is, I don't have an exciting life and for I don't know how long now, I've really done very little writing. Between being a full-time student, a wife, and a mother, I really have little time for the other things in my life that used to really make me, me, like; writing, photography, going out to my local Borders and ordering a hazelnut latte while I hammer away at the keyboard getting lost in the various coffee and new book smells (okay, that one really isn't my fault since Borders decided to go out of business). The point is, I'm not feeling much like a writer these days and it's gone on much longer than I care to admit.
There was a point in time where I could easily come up with 100,000 words in a matter of just three or four months. There was a time when I was writing about three or four novels a year as well as a short story for NaNoWriMo. The ideas flowed easily. I didn't have to outline or put too much extra effort into my work. It just flowed, organically, as if the words already existed and I was just the instrument through which they would appear on screen. Now, I can barely open a Word document without feeling the creative juices turning off, like a light switch.
Sometimes, I'll be thinking about my characters and stories all day long. I'll have these scenes playing out in my head and I'll be thinking about the best way to weave all these plot points together. I'll tell myself, "as soon as I get home, I'm writing. No excuses," but as soon as I get situated, my brain goes blank. Everything I had been thinking suddenly seems like it's on the other side of a link I'm missing. I know what people say. The best way to get through writer's block is to write. Believe me, I've tried. I haven't touched my journal in over a year. I used to write in it every other day or so. I have three incomplete stories waiting for attention, all three of which I started as NaNoWriMo or CampNaNoWriMo projects.
Whatever this is, it feels debilitating. I look at my document and I want to write. I have the story in my brain somewhere, but it's obviously being held hostage by something I can't even negotiate with it because it refuses to answer the phone. I feel guilty when I avoid writing. I feel guilty when I open a document and try to write but can't. It's been far too long. I used to never start another story before I finished one. I would keep notes for any ideas that popped into my head so I could come back to them later, but I always had to see a project through to fruition before I began another and now I have nothing to show for the 150,000 or so words that the past few NaNoWriMos have given me because I can't finish the stories.
Funny enough, they all seem to begin to lag right about the same place ... right after the 200 page mark. For instance, the third installment of Tallulah and Gennadi's story is only a chapter or two from being complete. All the ends have been tied together except for forgiveness. That's the last of what needs to be said and I can't. With Fiona and Declan, I know the problem is a little more complicated than that. I have about 100 pages left to go and no idea how to get my story from where it is to where I planned for it to be and that might be because Declan was never supposed to be the hero. He was supposed to be a secondary character, a romantic red herring, but he proved to have a little more say over the matter than I did. And with my current WIP, Effie and Foster, I know exactly how the story ends and the events that lead us there, but I can't come up with the words on paper. It's maddening.
And because I have so much trouble writing, something I love so very much, I've avoided the blog. I feel ashamed that I can't write. Something you love so much shouldn't be this difficult, should it? That's what I keep telling myself. I diverted my attention by learning the gist of Twitter. I might be the last holdout to give into the Twittersphere. But that was just a diversion. If I could say it was about connecting with other authors, I could convince myself it was a step in the right direction.
So, if you've hung around and read through my entire sob story, perhaps you have a woeful tale of writer's block to share with me. Some advice? Some encouragement? Something to make me giggle and distract me from my problem once again? At this point, anything is welcome.
Truth is, I don't have an exciting life and for I don't know how long now, I've really done very little writing. Between being a full-time student, a wife, and a mother, I really have little time for the other things in my life that used to really make me, me, like; writing, photography, going out to my local Borders and ordering a hazelnut latte while I hammer away at the keyboard getting lost in the various coffee and new book smells (okay, that one really isn't my fault since Borders decided to go out of business). The point is, I'm not feeling much like a writer these days and it's gone on much longer than I care to admit.
There was a point in time where I could easily come up with 100,000 words in a matter of just three or four months. There was a time when I was writing about three or four novels a year as well as a short story for NaNoWriMo. The ideas flowed easily. I didn't have to outline or put too much extra effort into my work. It just flowed, organically, as if the words already existed and I was just the instrument through which they would appear on screen. Now, I can barely open a Word document without feeling the creative juices turning off, like a light switch.
Sometimes, I'll be thinking about my characters and stories all day long. I'll have these scenes playing out in my head and I'll be thinking about the best way to weave all these plot points together. I'll tell myself, "as soon as I get home, I'm writing. No excuses," but as soon as I get situated, my brain goes blank. Everything I had been thinking suddenly seems like it's on the other side of a link I'm missing. I know what people say. The best way to get through writer's block is to write. Believe me, I've tried. I haven't touched my journal in over a year. I used to write in it every other day or so. I have three incomplete stories waiting for attention, all three of which I started as NaNoWriMo or CampNaNoWriMo projects.
Whatever this is, it feels debilitating. I look at my document and I want to write. I have the story in my brain somewhere, but it's obviously being held hostage by something I can't even negotiate with it because it refuses to answer the phone. I feel guilty when I avoid writing. I feel guilty when I open a document and try to write but can't. It's been far too long. I used to never start another story before I finished one. I would keep notes for any ideas that popped into my head so I could come back to them later, but I always had to see a project through to fruition before I began another and now I have nothing to show for the 150,000 or so words that the past few NaNoWriMos have given me because I can't finish the stories.
Funny enough, they all seem to begin to lag right about the same place ... right after the 200 page mark. For instance, the third installment of Tallulah and Gennadi's story is only a chapter or two from being complete. All the ends have been tied together except for forgiveness. That's the last of what needs to be said and I can't. With Fiona and Declan, I know the problem is a little more complicated than that. I have about 100 pages left to go and no idea how to get my story from where it is to where I planned for it to be and that might be because Declan was never supposed to be the hero. He was supposed to be a secondary character, a romantic red herring, but he proved to have a little more say over the matter than I did. And with my current WIP, Effie and Foster, I know exactly how the story ends and the events that lead us there, but I can't come up with the words on paper. It's maddening.
And because I have so much trouble writing, something I love so very much, I've avoided the blog. I feel ashamed that I can't write. Something you love so much shouldn't be this difficult, should it? That's what I keep telling myself. I diverted my attention by learning the gist of Twitter. I might be the last holdout to give into the Twittersphere. But that was just a diversion. If I could say it was about connecting with other authors, I could convince myself it was a step in the right direction.
So, if you've hung around and read through my entire sob story, perhaps you have a woeful tale of writer's block to share with me. Some advice? Some encouragement? Something to make me giggle and distract me from my problem once again? At this point, anything is welcome.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Long Lost Blogger
Hello! It's been quite a while since I've posted. It seems like it's fairly easy to forget blogging when real life gets busy. I am trying to convince myself to create a schedule for my writing, including blogging, because it's important to me and I seem to have way too much going on to stick with it otherwise.
I just finished my first semester of college and am hoping that after I complete the prerequisites, I get accepted into the nursing program. When I'm not buried in study materials or trekking around campus, I have been exploring other creative outlets like candle making, scrap booking, and Twitter-izing. Okay, so maybe Twitter isn't exactly the creative exploration I think it is, but considering how emphatically opposed to it I was, it feels like a creative outlet for me. I also have been reading about how great of a tool it can be for writers which is why I decided to give it a try.
I'm currently working on a new WIP that is tentatively titled When the Weatherman Says Rain. It's my comfortable genre of chick-lit and so far I'm very happy with the progress. I had the idea a long time ago, inspired by the week of Paris shows on the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson and only just now have gotten around to really getting serious about the idea. I'm participating in Camp NaNoWriMo with this manuscript so I'm making much more progress than I would had I decided to write at my leisure.
Excited to be back! Hope you all are doing well and are staying busy!
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Altered State of Mind
How many times have you been browsing the net or chatting with a friend and saw/heard of something you never really knew anything about but immediately felt compelled to try?
Well, the other day, while trying to get some writing done in a mini creative pow-wow at Archivers while some friends were scrapbooking, I mentioned how I used to scrapbook but just grew bored with it after a year or so. One of my friends mentions that I should totally look into altered books, that she thinks I'd have so much fun making one and that the writer in me would probably fall in love with the creativity of blending words from a book into my own words and art. I'm not much of an artist. In fact, I find it hard to draw a straight line without a ruler, so I was skeptical to say the least. Besides, as a writer, I couldn't fathom tearing pages out of a book and drawing/painting/stickering/scribbling/collaging over them.
And then I Googled and saw images like this ...
And I thought how creative and beautiful.
Maybe I'm not as artistically creative as the picture below, but it might be fun to experiment with color and texture and throwing out all the structured rules of writing for a bit of whimsy.
And so, I decided to try my hand it. As a very studious type of student, I wanted a website to thoroughly detail each step. I didn't want to get it wrong, but there are no such websites. Oh, there are plenty of sites out there for techniques and tips, but none of the sites seem to list, in numerical order, the steps used to complete such works of art. Perhaps that is the beauty of such a project. There is no right way to begin it. There is no right way to finish it. The possibilities are endless.
I'm working on a project now and I'm totally obsessed. I feel like I've only just gotten into the good part. I've torn pages from my chosen book. I've glued pages together for stability. I've primed pages to easily paint/color/draw/write. I've painted and textured the cover. I'm trying to decide how I want my pages within to look.
The control freak inside of me wants to make a power point presentation to outline exactly what each page should look like, which is kind of defeating the purpose of the project to begin with, but at least I've begun a project. I have been taking pictures for before/after presentation so I can't wait to share with you when it's completely done!
Have you ever made an altered book? Are you interested in trying?
Well, the other day, while trying to get some writing done in a mini creative pow-wow at Archivers while some friends were scrapbooking, I mentioned how I used to scrapbook but just grew bored with it after a year or so. One of my friends mentions that I should totally look into altered books, that she thinks I'd have so much fun making one and that the writer in me would probably fall in love with the creativity of blending words from a book into my own words and art. I'm not much of an artist. In fact, I find it hard to draw a straight line without a ruler, so I was skeptical to say the least. Besides, as a writer, I couldn't fathom tearing pages out of a book and drawing/painting/stickering/scribbling/collaging over them.
And then I Googled and saw images like this ...
And I thought how creative and beautiful.
Maybe I'm not as artistically creative as the picture below, but it might be fun to experiment with color and texture and throwing out all the structured rules of writing for a bit of whimsy.
And so, I decided to try my hand it. As a very studious type of student, I wanted a website to thoroughly detail each step. I didn't want to get it wrong, but there are no such websites. Oh, there are plenty of sites out there for techniques and tips, but none of the sites seem to list, in numerical order, the steps used to complete such works of art. Perhaps that is the beauty of such a project. There is no right way to begin it. There is no right way to finish it. The possibilities are endless.
I'm working on a project now and I'm totally obsessed. I feel like I've only just gotten into the good part. I've torn pages from my chosen book. I've glued pages together for stability. I've primed pages to easily paint/color/draw/write. I've painted and textured the cover. I'm trying to decide how I want my pages within to look.
The control freak inside of me wants to make a power point presentation to outline exactly what each page should look like, which is kind of defeating the purpose of the project to begin with, but at least I've begun a project. I have been taking pictures for before/after presentation so I can't wait to share with you when it's completely done!
Have you ever made an altered book? Are you interested in trying?
Monday, October 10, 2011
It's Our Time
Over the past few weeks, I seem to be so busy I rarely have a moment to sit down during the day and do anything. Between classes at the Y and school functions and doctor/dentist appointments, I feel like I've been running around for the past few weeks with little more than a checklist of places I need to be.
Over the weekend, I decided to slow it down and enjoy this unseasonably warm weather we've been having here in Indiana. It is beautiful out with temps in the lower 80s and the leaves changing colors fast. So Saturday afternoon, I took my little one to the park and we had a picnic. It was such a lovely day!
There are trails throughout the park that lead you through this twisty woods along a creek and after our picnic, Christian and I decided to take a little walk down one of the trails. As we headed into the canopy of trees, I realized that my camera batteries were low and I said aloud, not really expecting any kind of response, "If we weren't running so late today I would have remembered to check my camera batteries."
My son, who so often makes me wonder if he isn't far older than his nine years, says, "What are you talking about? We weren't running late. This is our time. We can do whatever we want."
Those words stopped me in my tracks. He was right. This was our time. We had no appointments. No must-do's. No people to meet. No anything. And yet I was stuck in that checklist mode. It made me wonder if I am all too often that way, running around like a chicken with its head cut off and for the first time, it made me curious how often my son notices these things. It definitely turned me philosophical for a moment and then I snapped this picture of him with the last of the dying battery and I laughed at how quickly he goes from the wisdom of an old man, back to a little kid.
Anyway, here are some more pictures from our afternoon at the park ...
Over the weekend, I decided to slow it down and enjoy this unseasonably warm weather we've been having here in Indiana. It is beautiful out with temps in the lower 80s and the leaves changing colors fast. So Saturday afternoon, I took my little one to the park and we had a picnic. It was such a lovely day!
There are trails throughout the park that lead you through this twisty woods along a creek and after our picnic, Christian and I decided to take a little walk down one of the trails. As we headed into the canopy of trees, I realized that my camera batteries were low and I said aloud, not really expecting any kind of response, "If we weren't running so late today I would have remembered to check my camera batteries."
My son, who so often makes me wonder if he isn't far older than his nine years, says, "What are you talking about? We weren't running late. This is our time. We can do whatever we want."
Those words stopped me in my tracks. He was right. This was our time. We had no appointments. No must-do's. No people to meet. No anything. And yet I was stuck in that checklist mode. It made me wonder if I am all too often that way, running around like a chicken with its head cut off and for the first time, it made me curious how often my son notices these things. It definitely turned me philosophical for a moment and then I snapped this picture of him with the last of the dying battery and I laughed at how quickly he goes from the wisdom of an old man, back to a little kid.
Anyway, here are some more pictures from our afternoon at the park ...
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Words of Art 9.27
Today's writing prompt asks you to come up with an original poem, short story, journal entry, etc., inspired by the picture posted below. Feel free to share your thoughts below. I'll be posting mine later because I have a crochet project calling my name.
Monday, September 26, 2011
NaNoWriMo Plans?
Well, it's that time of the year again where writers scramble for 50,000 words worth of plot, characters, setting and another pot of coffee. Fifty thousand words in thirty days. When you first start NaNoWriMo, how impossible does the task feel?
Last year, I didn't start until about the second week in November so this year I'm doing a little more planning and plotting than before. I know my characters inside and out because they're the same NaNoWriMo characters I've written for the past two years. I'm fairly certain my water dwelling creatures will sprout legs and live amongst us land-faring creatures this year.
I sat down and started brainstorming chapters and how long each chapter should be. I started some research, although I admit I don't put as much research into NaNo as I do my other work.
Anyway, the point of this post is to find out how you prepare for NaNo? Do you have everything planned out way in advance? Do you fly by the seat of your pants? Is your NaNo project something you'd be proud for people to read or is it something you file away and forget about until next NaNo? Is it a catalyst for a project you plan to work on even after NaNo ends?
Last year, I didn't start until about the second week in November so this year I'm doing a little more planning and plotting than before. I know my characters inside and out because they're the same NaNoWriMo characters I've written for the past two years. I'm fairly certain my water dwelling creatures will sprout legs and live amongst us land-faring creatures this year.
I sat down and started brainstorming chapters and how long each chapter should be. I started some research, although I admit I don't put as much research into NaNo as I do my other work.
Anyway, the point of this post is to find out how you prepare for NaNo? Do you have everything planned out way in advance? Do you fly by the seat of your pants? Is your NaNo project something you'd be proud for people to read or is it something you file away and forget about until next NaNo? Is it a catalyst for a project you plan to work on even after NaNo ends?
Words of the Week
Here are today's Words of the Week and since I'm about to scoot off to take my son to school and then head to water aerobics, I'll have to post my short story later this afternoon.
Prompt: Use the following words in an original work: short story, poem, journal entry, etc.. Feel free to share your work in the comments section below.
Floe: A sheet of flowing ice
Gibber: Speak rapidly and unintelligibly
Kudos: Praise, honor
Parable: A story told to illustrate a moral
Contusion: Bruise, Injury
_____________________________________________________________________
Early November on the coast was already freezing. Out in the distance, a gaggle of seagulls bobbed on the water like a floe of jagged ice. It wouldn't surprise me to see ice already; it was bitter cold or maybe that was just the constant black cloud over my head doing my thinking for me again.
I gripped the old beat up copy of Ella and Emma and their adventures in the attic; the beloved parable my mother was most proud of. As a little girl, I'd read the same story and wondered how two seemingly bright little girls could get into so much trouble in an attic and why they needed so much trouble to learn the simplest of lessons. Life shouldn't hurt this much.
I was a doctor, I helped people from simple contusions to delicate cardiac surgeries. Now here I was six months pregnant, listening to the gibber of the cold ocean tides as if they held some secret I needed to know. When had life gotten so messy?
"Momma," Max said, tugging on the sleeve of my sweater. He looked so much like his father in that instant I felt my heart slam into my chest.
"It's too cold out here for us." I took his hand and started back up the beach toward the road.
"Momma sad. Max loves Momma." He clapped his hands together and looked up at me with his father's big brown eyes.
For just a moment, that was all the kudos I needed to remember just how lucky I was despite what our family was going through.
Prompt: Use the following words in an original work: short story, poem, journal entry, etc.. Feel free to share your work in the comments section below.
Floe: A sheet of flowing ice
Gibber: Speak rapidly and unintelligibly
Kudos: Praise, honor
Parable: A story told to illustrate a moral
Contusion: Bruise, Injury
_____________________________________________________________________
Early November on the coast was already freezing. Out in the distance, a gaggle of seagulls bobbed on the water like a floe of jagged ice. It wouldn't surprise me to see ice already; it was bitter cold or maybe that was just the constant black cloud over my head doing my thinking for me again.
I gripped the old beat up copy of Ella and Emma and their adventures in the attic; the beloved parable my mother was most proud of. As a little girl, I'd read the same story and wondered how two seemingly bright little girls could get into so much trouble in an attic and why they needed so much trouble to learn the simplest of lessons. Life shouldn't hurt this much.
I was a doctor, I helped people from simple contusions to delicate cardiac surgeries. Now here I was six months pregnant, listening to the gibber of the cold ocean tides as if they held some secret I needed to know. When had life gotten so messy?
"Momma," Max said, tugging on the sleeve of my sweater. He looked so much like his father in that instant I felt my heart slam into my chest.
"It's too cold out here for us." I took his hand and started back up the beach toward the road.
"Momma sad. Max loves Momma." He clapped his hands together and looked up at me with his father's big brown eyes.
For just a moment, that was all the kudos I needed to remember just how lucky I was despite what our family was going through.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
When Life Gets in the Way
You know that wonderful feeling of anytime you open your WIP you know you can write, add to it, edit it, or brainstorm for it? It feels lovely, like you're actually in control of this creativity monster. I don't know about you all, but I thrive for that moment when it feels like it doesn't matter what time of day it is, I can write and not be totally disappointed with the words.
Then life happens and writing gets a backseat. I hate that. This past week I've been painting the ceilings in our house. No big deal right? Should only take a few days, at most. But I had no idea just how vehemently opposed to ceiling painting my shoulder and neck would be. So, it's taken more than a few days and more than a day or two of resting my shoulder in between rooms.
Yesterday, I finished the kitchen and started the living room. I would have finished the living room but we ran out of paint so I have to make another trip to the hardware store or manage to live with a two-tone ceiling for a while. Speaking of two-tone, it amazes me the difference just having the ceiling painted has done for the brightness of the room. When we bought our place, it was a real fixer-upper that looked as if its previous occupants smoked three packs a day. Take a look for yourself.
Sadly, that isn't even the best example I have to offer but I didn't take before and after pictures of the bathroom.
Anyway, we've decided to do a few home improvement projects as our finances allow us the opportunity so I may or may not get the chance to write as frequently as I'd like. The urge and desire is there, so perhaps 3am writing sessions might very well call my name if I find no other outlet during the day.
Then life happens and writing gets a backseat. I hate that. This past week I've been painting the ceilings in our house. No big deal right? Should only take a few days, at most. But I had no idea just how vehemently opposed to ceiling painting my shoulder and neck would be. So, it's taken more than a few days and more than a day or two of resting my shoulder in between rooms.
Yesterday, I finished the kitchen and started the living room. I would have finished the living room but we ran out of paint so I have to make another trip to the hardware store or manage to live with a two-tone ceiling for a while. Speaking of two-tone, it amazes me the difference just having the ceiling painted has done for the brightness of the room. When we bought our place, it was a real fixer-upper that looked as if its previous occupants smoked three packs a day. Take a look for yourself.
Sadly, that isn't even the best example I have to offer but I didn't take before and after pictures of the bathroom.
Anyway, we've decided to do a few home improvement projects as our finances allow us the opportunity so I may or may not get the chance to write as frequently as I'd like. The urge and desire is there, so perhaps 3am writing sessions might very well call my name if I find no other outlet during the day.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Friday 45 (Femme Fatale)
Femme Fatale will deliberately use her charm to control men and get them to do things against their nature. She is the kind of woman capable of luring good men into crime and murder. She trusts no one, is jaded and disappointed with life. She feels power when others do her bidding and may only value herself for her body. She feels society owes her and she is just collecting her due.
She will never get her own hands dirty or implicate herself in any wrongdoing. Any man who strives for her will end up dead or absolutely ruined. Watch any film noir movie to see her in action. When she decides to turn on a lover, things get ugly and blackmail is the first thought in her mind if he's married. She would rather die than give up her looks or power and doesn't play the victim easily. Also will not sit in the shadows while a younger woman tries to take her place as center of attention.
Example: Cleopatra preferred to commit suicide rather than give up her power. This need for power is a defining characteristic of the Femme Fatale.
She is excessively emotional and attention seeking, but these rapidly changing emotions are well hidden behind a stoic, unreadable face. She has a low tolerance for problems of any kind and has no problem using her body as a weapon. She believes if men are stupid enough to fall for her wile then that's their problem and they must suffer the consequences. She is driven to prove she's not a piece of meat to be thrown around. Has a kill or be killed mentality. She is a great actress who can cry real tears on command. She will be concerned with money and power which equal survival to her.
She is unfaithful and can remain detached when sex is involved. No one knows when she speaks a lie. She can be all things to all people.
Sharon Stone as Catherine Tramell in Basic Instinct
Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra
So, do you have a Femme Fatale character you're working with right now?
She will never get her own hands dirty or implicate herself in any wrongdoing. Any man who strives for her will end up dead or absolutely ruined. Watch any film noir movie to see her in action. When she decides to turn on a lover, things get ugly and blackmail is the first thought in her mind if he's married. She would rather die than give up her looks or power and doesn't play the victim easily. Also will not sit in the shadows while a younger woman tries to take her place as center of attention.
Example: Cleopatra preferred to commit suicide rather than give up her power. This need for power is a defining characteristic of the Femme Fatale.
She is excessively emotional and attention seeking, but these rapidly changing emotions are well hidden behind a stoic, unreadable face. She has a low tolerance for problems of any kind and has no problem using her body as a weapon. She believes if men are stupid enough to fall for her wile then that's their problem and they must suffer the consequences. She is driven to prove she's not a piece of meat to be thrown around. Has a kill or be killed mentality. She is a great actress who can cry real tears on command. She will be concerned with money and power which equal survival to her.
She is unfaithful and can remain detached when sex is involved. No one knows when she speaks a lie. She can be all things to all people.
Sharon Stone as Catherine Tramell in Basic Instinct
Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra
So, do you have a Femme Fatale character you're working with right now?
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Chain - Chain - Chain
(Did that title also make you think of Aretha Franklin?)
*From Room to Write by Bonni Goldberg*
PROMPT: Today, try a trick. Write one of the following words at the top of a page: fence, road, boil, or fall. Now without thinking or stopping, write whatever other words come to mind in a list down the middle of the page until you reach the bottom. Write a piece in which each line uses one of these words in the order in which they appear.
**********
"I fool myself, in a good way, into dodging the pressure. I tell myself that I'm not trying to write a scene, I'm just making some notes for the day." ~~Marsha Norman
**********
Fence
Grass
Privacy
Neighbors
Garden
Out
Picket
Home
Children
Dog
Happy
Family
Secure
Ivy
Tethered
Outside
Fortress
Hills
Trees
Dirt
Roses
Weeds
Jagged
Disrepair
Sad
Memories
She liked to feel the grass underfoot, squishing her toes down against the vibrant green blades. It'd been a long time since she'd had this kind of privacy. In the suburbs, neighbors made it a priority to know your business and then make it gossip-worthy. Standing amid the garden, she couldn't see any other windows or houses. She was out of the city, out of the suburbs.
Whoever would have thought she'd crave living on a ranch where white picket fences weren't just some cliche accessory to make your neighbors think life was perfect? This was her new home and the thought made her heart race. Her children would like this place, she had no doubt. For the first time in her life, she wanted a dog, a companion to share the front seat of an old rusted truck.She would be happy here. This was the kind of place where a family could strive, could get back to what was really important without distractions like iPods and texting and television shows. This was the kind of place where families were secure.
The thought gave her pause as she ran her fingertips over the leaves of ivy that snaked up around the long post of a bird feeder. A halo of colorful flowers was tethered to the feeder, almost like a memorial for something lost and loved. Chewing on what was left of her fingernail, she forced herself to think about being outside, about becoming a lover of the outdoors. There was a stable on the other side of the garden, a building that looked more like a fortress than a home for horses. She took off down the path out of the garden and toward the stable, amazed at the sight of rolling hills in the distance. Great, looming pine trees dotted the perimeter to the west, separating her new property from her nearest neighbor; three miles down the road. At the door of the stable she kicked her toe into the dirt, just to watch the dusty aftermath settle on the cowboy boots she never thought she'd ever want.
The smell of roses was strong and distinct in the air, like a hundred blue ribbon stallions had graced the stalls. She swung the doors open and stepped inside, unsure if she'd find an empty space overrun by weeds or a hoarder's paradise. Jagged rays of sunlight hit the ground she walked on. As she looked around, amazed at the cleanliness before her, she took note of the one stall that seemed to be in total disrepair.
In the wood of stall beams was a sad little heart and initials carved into the deterioration. It was broken, like her heart, and suddenly all the memories of her losses came sweeping back in an uncontrollable deluge of tears and guilt.
*From Room to Write by Bonni Goldberg*
PROMPT: Today, try a trick. Write one of the following words at the top of a page: fence, road, boil, or fall. Now without thinking or stopping, write whatever other words come to mind in a list down the middle of the page until you reach the bottom. Write a piece in which each line uses one of these words in the order in which they appear.
**********
"I fool myself, in a good way, into dodging the pressure. I tell myself that I'm not trying to write a scene, I'm just making some notes for the day." ~~Marsha Norman
**********
Fence
Grass
Privacy
Neighbors
Garden
Out
Picket
Home
Children
Dog
Happy
Family
Secure
Ivy
Tethered
Outside
Fortress
Hills
Trees
Dirt
Roses
Weeds
Jagged
Disrepair
Sad
Memories
She liked to feel the grass underfoot, squishing her toes down against the vibrant green blades. It'd been a long time since she'd had this kind of privacy. In the suburbs, neighbors made it a priority to know your business and then make it gossip-worthy. Standing amid the garden, she couldn't see any other windows or houses. She was out of the city, out of the suburbs.
Whoever would have thought she'd crave living on a ranch where white picket fences weren't just some cliche accessory to make your neighbors think life was perfect? This was her new home and the thought made her heart race. Her children would like this place, she had no doubt. For the first time in her life, she wanted a dog, a companion to share the front seat of an old rusted truck.She would be happy here. This was the kind of place where a family could strive, could get back to what was really important without distractions like iPods and texting and television shows. This was the kind of place where families were secure.
The thought gave her pause as she ran her fingertips over the leaves of ivy that snaked up around the long post of a bird feeder. A halo of colorful flowers was tethered to the feeder, almost like a memorial for something lost and loved. Chewing on what was left of her fingernail, she forced herself to think about being outside, about becoming a lover of the outdoors. There was a stable on the other side of the garden, a building that looked more like a fortress than a home for horses. She took off down the path out of the garden and toward the stable, amazed at the sight of rolling hills in the distance. Great, looming pine trees dotted the perimeter to the west, separating her new property from her nearest neighbor; three miles down the road. At the door of the stable she kicked her toe into the dirt, just to watch the dusty aftermath settle on the cowboy boots she never thought she'd ever want.
The smell of roses was strong and distinct in the air, like a hundred blue ribbon stallions had graced the stalls. She swung the doors open and stepped inside, unsure if she'd find an empty space overrun by weeds or a hoarder's paradise. Jagged rays of sunlight hit the ground she walked on. As she looked around, amazed at the cleanliness before her, she took note of the one stall that seemed to be in total disrepair.
In the wood of stall beams was a sad little heart and initials carved into the deterioration. It was broken, like her heart, and suddenly all the memories of her losses came sweeping back in an uncontrollable deluge of tears and guilt.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Words of Art (The Reader)
This week's photo is one I took of a painting I bought a long time ago. I found it at a yard sale and I don't know who the artist is. There are no identifying signatures on the front or back of the painting. I don't know why I bought it. It went with nothing in our home, and still doesn't, but I had to have it and now that I have it, I can't let it go either.
The object of this prompt is to write an original piece (short story, poem, journal entry, etc.) inspired by the picture posted. I'd love to read anything that you all come up with and comments are always welcome.
__________________________________________________________
Today, I'm just going to write my thoughts about this painting because everything I try to sit down and write seems too stiff and rehearsed. I bought this painting at a yard sale for three dollars. I wasn't in the market for a painting and I still don't know why it had to be this one. I imagine her name was Elizabeth and I get the sense she's not reading at all. I imagine that she is hiding her true feelings as best she can. Perhaps someone is watching her and she doesn't want that person to know the thoughts swirling around in her head. I imagine she's innocent, but strong and determined, although most everyone around her seems to think she's meek and fragile. When I look at this painting, it makes me thoughtful, curious about her, about what book she's holding. I think she looks very unhappy and it makes me sad for her.
The object of this prompt is to write an original piece (short story, poem, journal entry, etc.) inspired by the picture posted. I'd love to read anything that you all come up with and comments are always welcome.
__________________________________________________________
Today, I'm just going to write my thoughts about this painting because everything I try to sit down and write seems too stiff and rehearsed. I bought this painting at a yard sale for three dollars. I wasn't in the market for a painting and I still don't know why it had to be this one. I imagine her name was Elizabeth and I get the sense she's not reading at all. I imagine that she is hiding her true feelings as best she can. Perhaps someone is watching her and she doesn't want that person to know the thoughts swirling around in her head. I imagine she's innocent, but strong and determined, although most everyone around her seems to think she's meek and fragile. When I look at this painting, it makes me thoughtful, curious about her, about what book she's holding. I think she looks very unhappy and it makes me sad for her.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Words of the Week (Mardi Gras)
Words of the Week is a writing prompt where you're given about five words to use in an original short story, poem, or journal entry. This weeks words are;
Cavalcade: A dramatic sequence or procession.
Lampoon: Publicly mock or ridicule
Noxious: Harmful, poisonous.
Jocular: Characterized by joking
Mutable: Prone to or capable of change
_________________________________________________________________
She watched the parade from the safety of her apartment balcony, relishing in the barely audible sound of classical piano playing from the speakers in her living room. It didn't match the tone of the cavalcade of performers or drunken onlookers below her. It was soothing, such a stark contrast to the noxious smell of sloshed beer that wafted below.
Anyone who knew her would suspect she loathed the annual parade through the streets below, but she rather enjoyed the sight of it. People hung out with their friends and family, laughing, drinking, joking. These people were free to let go and completely uninhibited. She longed to be that way, to feel the rush of blood from a spontaneous decision she knew was probably bad for her but refused to care.
She took a drink of wine right from the bottle. That was about as wild as she was capable of. Most people were mutable, able to adapt to change, but how long had she been living in the Big Easy? She'd yet to experience anything but gumbo and live blues music.
She watched a group of guys below her apartment yelling at a group of college girls who'd just won Mardi Gras beads. Purple and green strands hung from their necks as they took another swig of something in a brown paper bag. One of the guys dared to cross the street and ask for a phone number or a one night stand. She couldn't be sure which, but the girl's answer had been no either way. Red faced, the college guy went back to his friends and of course was lampooned with hearty laughter and jokes she wished she could hear from her perch above them.
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Can you use all five words in a short original work?
Cavalcade: A dramatic sequence or procession.
Lampoon: Publicly mock or ridicule
Noxious: Harmful, poisonous.
Jocular: Characterized by joking
Mutable: Prone to or capable of change
_________________________________________________________________
She watched the parade from the safety of her apartment balcony, relishing in the barely audible sound of classical piano playing from the speakers in her living room. It didn't match the tone of the cavalcade of performers or drunken onlookers below her. It was soothing, such a stark contrast to the noxious smell of sloshed beer that wafted below.
Anyone who knew her would suspect she loathed the annual parade through the streets below, but she rather enjoyed the sight of it. People hung out with their friends and family, laughing, drinking, joking. These people were free to let go and completely uninhibited. She longed to be that way, to feel the rush of blood from a spontaneous decision she knew was probably bad for her but refused to care.
She took a drink of wine right from the bottle. That was about as wild as she was capable of. Most people were mutable, able to adapt to change, but how long had she been living in the Big Easy? She'd yet to experience anything but gumbo and live blues music.
She watched a group of guys below her apartment yelling at a group of college girls who'd just won Mardi Gras beads. Purple and green strands hung from their necks as they took another swig of something in a brown paper bag. One of the guys dared to cross the street and ask for a phone number or a one night stand. She couldn't be sure which, but the girl's answer had been no either way. Red faced, the college guy went back to his friends and of course was lampooned with hearty laughter and jokes she wished she could hear from her perch above them.
____________________________________________________________
Can you use all five words in a short original work?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Black Swan
I wanted to watch the movie ever since the previews when it first came out, but my husband and son had absolutely no desire to see it. So I kept waiting for a couple hours to myself where I could settle in and order it off of pay-per-view. Last night, my husband went out with friends to watch the Mayweather/Ortiz fight and our son was spending the night with his grandparents. So, I ordered the movie and snuggled up on the couch and tuned in.
I expected to like the movie. The reviews were favorable, right? I didn't like it. I'm not sure why, but I just didn't like it, which was even more disappointing because I had expected to like it so much. I guess I wanted more insight into why she lost her mind, what exactly was it she was suffering from, why was her mother so strange, why was she a 20-something woman living in a 12 year old's room?
I expected to like the movie. The reviews were favorable, right? I didn't like it. I'm not sure why, but I just didn't like it, which was even more disappointing because I had expected to like it so much. I guess I wanted more insight into why she lost her mind, what exactly was it she was suffering from, why was her mother so strange, why was she a 20-something woman living in a 12 year old's room?
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