Hi. Sorry I haven't been here in a while. Got distracted by Wordpress and Facebook. But I'm back and I promise not to leave you again. So what's going on? How are you?
I'm trying to figure out some plot points. I did participate in NaNoWriMo this year. I did not hit 50K words but I made an attempt, so I still view that as a success. At least I sat down and started writing. And I wrote more in that one month than I have in one stretch ever before. The story is workable but it needs tweaked a bit. At the moment I'm revisiting a short story. I'm adding another character so it should be interesting to see how it turns out. Once I get that one under control the novella will get dusted off. It should have sat long enough it will look like someone else wrote it.
I hope your writing is going well. I'll be back soon.
Happy Writing!
13 December 2010
28 June 2009
Love or Money
What motivates you? Is it money? Love? The thrill of the hunt? Do you play the game for the fun of playing or do you play to win? I hear writers say they get asked, Why do you write? As a writer I can answer that the same way all my writer friends do: I can't Not write.
My entire life I have been happiest when I was making something. I learned needlepoint and thread crafts at an early age, my mother's attempts to keep my nose out of a book and make me socialize. I can sew, crochet or embroider pretty much anything. I've built small pieces of furniture, put together innumerable jigsaw puzzles, framed windows and walls, even rebuilt a carburetor for a 1963 Nash Rambler. I can draw and paint and string multiple notes together without needing a bucket to carry them in. I've made my own wax candles and bath salts and lip balm. I can make magic with my own two hands. I can cook manicotti that grown men will fight over. And when I put my pencil to paper I can write words that will inspire you, make you laugh or cry, turn you on or tick you off.
This uncontrollable desire to create something has been a part of my chemistry since birth. Reading is the only thing I devote as much focus to as creating. Where does the motivation come from? I couldn't tell you. I'm not really concerned about where it comes from as long as it keeps coming.
A writer friend turned me on to a quote from Pearl S. Buck about creating. He said it pretty much summed him up. I would have to agree, for him and myself. See what you think....
"The truly creative mind, in any field, is no more than this: a human born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create-so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency, he is not really alive unless he is creating."
There are as many motives for actions as there are actions to be made. They are not always something we need to question or define. If you do know your motivations, you are probably ahead of the game. Not many people who feel the need to know have the courage to look honestly in the mirror for the answers. In my case, writing is something in my blood, an insatiable craving for the printed word and the pictures, dreams and passions that are painted onto the page.
Keep in mind that motivation is the Why. Inspiration is the What. I'll save that for the next blog.
My entire life I have been happiest when I was making something. I learned needlepoint and thread crafts at an early age, my mother's attempts to keep my nose out of a book and make me socialize. I can sew, crochet or embroider pretty much anything. I've built small pieces of furniture, put together innumerable jigsaw puzzles, framed windows and walls, even rebuilt a carburetor for a 1963 Nash Rambler. I can draw and paint and string multiple notes together without needing a bucket to carry them in. I've made my own wax candles and bath salts and lip balm. I can make magic with my own two hands. I can cook manicotti that grown men will fight over. And when I put my pencil to paper I can write words that will inspire you, make you laugh or cry, turn you on or tick you off.
This uncontrollable desire to create something has been a part of my chemistry since birth. Reading is the only thing I devote as much focus to as creating. Where does the motivation come from? I couldn't tell you. I'm not really concerned about where it comes from as long as it keeps coming.
A writer friend turned me on to a quote from Pearl S. Buck about creating. He said it pretty much summed him up. I would have to agree, for him and myself. See what you think....
"The truly creative mind, in any field, is no more than this: a human born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create-so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency, he is not really alive unless he is creating."
There are as many motives for actions as there are actions to be made. They are not always something we need to question or define. If you do know your motivations, you are probably ahead of the game. Not many people who feel the need to know have the courage to look honestly in the mirror for the answers. In my case, writing is something in my blood, an insatiable craving for the printed word and the pictures, dreams and passions that are painted onto the page.
Keep in mind that motivation is the Why. Inspiration is the What. I'll save that for the next blog.
21 June 2009
Daddy's Girl
I have always been my daddy's little girl. Dad played Santa Claus a lot when I was little. I learned early the value of making people smile. He also played guitar and was a disc jockey, where I get my love of music from. As a child I would not sleep unless dad was home. Nights he was at the radio station my mother would turn on a radio in my room so I could hear Dad's voice. He would talk to me on-air.
I also get my irreverent sense of humor from my dad. He would bring me records (yes, I still have vinyl) of Dr. Demento to listen to in my room. And he was a huge fan of Wierd Al Yankovic and Cletus T Judd. Our favorite comedy was Spaceballs. The first movie Dad took me to the theatre to see was The Buddy Holly Story. It was a close second to The Blues Brothers on our favorites list. I remember coming home from school and telling jokes I had heard on the bus. Mom would make me tell Dad just to see him blush.
It's been over a year since Daddy passed. There are days it feels like it was yesterday. There are also days I feel his presence around me, a quiet comfort when I need him. I am happy he's in a better place, with no pain or sickness, with all the family that went before him that he missed so dearly. There are still days when wish I could cry on his shoulder.
I love and miss you, Old Man.
Happy Father's Day to all of you.
I also get my irreverent sense of humor from my dad. He would bring me records (yes, I still have vinyl) of Dr. Demento to listen to in my room. And he was a huge fan of Wierd Al Yankovic and Cletus T Judd. Our favorite comedy was Spaceballs. The first movie Dad took me to the theatre to see was The Buddy Holly Story. It was a close second to The Blues Brothers on our favorites list. I remember coming home from school and telling jokes I had heard on the bus. Mom would make me tell Dad just to see him blush.
It's been over a year since Daddy passed. There are days it feels like it was yesterday. There are also days I feel his presence around me, a quiet comfort when I need him. I am happy he's in a better place, with no pain or sickness, with all the family that went before him that he missed so dearly. There are still days when wish I could cry on his shoulder.
I love and miss you, Old Man.
Happy Father's Day to all of you.
15 June 2009
Talk without Words
Ready for an intimate conversation? What does that mean? Being intimate doesn't have to be about having sex. It's about closeness, sharing things with another person that no one else is privy to.
I don't mean the generic, everyday detritus of life. That's companionship, a different animal all together. Companionship is having someone to go shopping with, do dishes with, a friend to hang out with. Intimacy requires more emotional commitment.
It can be someone you trade deep, dark secrets with, or someone you snuggle with on rainy afternoons, or the person you sit up all night with when one of you needs to vent. It's the person who touches you briefly in a crowded room just to let you know they're there if you need them.
Do you know which people in your life are companions and which are intimate friends? Do you have both? Do you know which ones you need and which ones you want? Do you have the temerity to admit what you're looking for?
I don't mean the generic, everyday detritus of life. That's companionship, a different animal all together. Companionship is having someone to go shopping with, do dishes with, a friend to hang out with. Intimacy requires more emotional commitment.
It can be someone you trade deep, dark secrets with, or someone you snuggle with on rainy afternoons, or the person you sit up all night with when one of you needs to vent. It's the person who touches you briefly in a crowded room just to let you know they're there if you need them.
Do you know which people in your life are companions and which are intimate friends? Do you have both? Do you know which ones you need and which ones you want? Do you have the temerity to admit what you're looking for?
31 May 2009
Sentimental Journey
I've been gone way too long from here. Didn't realize how long it had been since I wrote a new blog. I have helped open a new store, cut open my hand on a really big deli slicer, pulled out my own stitches. I have also been cleaning out my storage unit.
I have found things I forgot I owned. Some things are keepsakes from my family, items that remind me of relatives both loved and missed. Some things are reminders of things I would like to forget. I found my grandmother's china, the family bibles, Dad's novelty ties. I found the giant inflatable penguin with the Christmas decorations, my collection of lingerie, my wedding dress.
Standing in the heat and humidity in the middle of that room I cried, cussed, laughed hysterically. I asked questions to the air that I know I will never get answers to. While I'm not as far down the road to independence as I would like to be, I'm getting a lot closer. I'm letting go of baggage, trying to let go of emotions that are not useful, not healthy. I can't carry it anymore. I'm trying to take flight, and it's just a burden I don't need to carry.
It's taking a lot of effort to break the habit. It's easy to cling to emotions that are familiar. New emotions are exciting, scary, addictive. But it takes time for connections to form. The old stuff is what I'm used to, even if it is bad for me. But I will keep trying, keep working on letting go of the negative and finding the positive. I will no longer hide in the shadows of who I used to be. I'm stepping out into the light.
I have found things I forgot I owned. Some things are keepsakes from my family, items that remind me of relatives both loved and missed. Some things are reminders of things I would like to forget. I found my grandmother's china, the family bibles, Dad's novelty ties. I found the giant inflatable penguin with the Christmas decorations, my collection of lingerie, my wedding dress.
Standing in the heat and humidity in the middle of that room I cried, cussed, laughed hysterically. I asked questions to the air that I know I will never get answers to. While I'm not as far down the road to independence as I would like to be, I'm getting a lot closer. I'm letting go of baggage, trying to let go of emotions that are not useful, not healthy. I can't carry it anymore. I'm trying to take flight, and it's just a burden I don't need to carry.
It's taking a lot of effort to break the habit. It's easy to cling to emotions that are familiar. New emotions are exciting, scary, addictive. But it takes time for connections to form. The old stuff is what I'm used to, even if it is bad for me. But I will keep trying, keep working on letting go of the negative and finding the positive. I will no longer hide in the shadows of who I used to be. I'm stepping out into the light.
18 April 2009
Missed Opportunities
How many things can you think of that you wanted to try and never did? Do you remember why you didn't? I can think of several things I never tried. My mother was really good at making me feel like I would never accomplish anything. Being taught to fear failure makes it hard to achieve. Setting your own obstacles in your path makes it difficult, also. You can't prevent yourself from achieving the little goals and expect to reach the big ones. You're setting yourself up to fail. And you can't let other people convince you that you're not good enough to reach the little goals or the big ones.
The trick is finding the fire inside of you that makes you want to achieve regardless to how many people say you can't do it. The desire to do something or find something or be with someone has to be so strong that you feel you will die if you don't reach that goal.
You have to ask yourself, "Am I strong enough to take that next step?" Are you willing to take a risk and step outside of your comfort zone? Are you ready to set aside your fear to reach for your destiny? How do you know if you don't ask yourself the question? How do you know if you don't take that first step, take that small risk? Small ones lead to big ones. You have to start somewhere.
There are several things I would like to do right now. Are they impossible? Hell, No! Are they impractical at the present time? Yes, Damn it! That doesn't change the fact that I'm afraid of falling on my face. Nor does it change the fact that I want to stand on my own without fear.
What it means is that I will save and plan and calculate and work my ass off until I can do those things. Anyone can tell me I won't achieve my goals. I am the only one who will stop me from achieving them.
Somewhere in my future, fear will become obsolete. I will push the debris out of my way, and run defiantly in the face of my opposition. I won't fear what will happen if I fly there and meet him. I will fly there and see what happens in person.
The trick is finding the fire inside of you that makes you want to achieve regardless to how many people say you can't do it. The desire to do something or find something or be with someone has to be so strong that you feel you will die if you don't reach that goal.
You have to ask yourself, "Am I strong enough to take that next step?" Are you willing to take a risk and step outside of your comfort zone? Are you ready to set aside your fear to reach for your destiny? How do you know if you don't ask yourself the question? How do you know if you don't take that first step, take that small risk? Small ones lead to big ones. You have to start somewhere.
There are several things I would like to do right now. Are they impossible? Hell, No! Are they impractical at the present time? Yes, Damn it! That doesn't change the fact that I'm afraid of falling on my face. Nor does it change the fact that I want to stand on my own without fear.
What it means is that I will save and plan and calculate and work my ass off until I can do those things. Anyone can tell me I won't achieve my goals. I am the only one who will stop me from achieving them.
Somewhere in my future, fear will become obsolete. I will push the debris out of my way, and run defiantly in the face of my opposition. I won't fear what will happen if I fly there and meet him. I will fly there and see what happens in person.
12 April 2009
Here's your sign...
Patience is a virtue. We've all heard this. I've written about patience before. I don't have a lot of it. It's one of the things I'm working on. I'm also working on recognizing signs. I don't believe in coincedences. I believe things happen for reasons. I've also written about how people come and go in our lives for reasons. I'm still hoping for someone to come along to help me learn some patience.
If you've been following my blog, you know by now that I'm recovering from a bad relationship and a misguided childhood. I'm seeing things more clearly than ever before. Those of you who know me from The Writer's Chatroom know that I'm a flirt. It's fun and for the most part harmless. I've been flirting with a lot of people lately, some close, some far away, some new, some I've been flirting with a long time. It's like playing Cat & Mouse, which I've also blogged about. The game can be fun, but everybody has to play along. I'm not one for playing those games for long.
At this point, I've figured out what I want. And I DON'T WANT TO WAIT FOR IT! I want something real, something close enough to touch. I want someone who already knows what he wants, and how to recognize it when he finds it. I don't want to have to drag him in front of his own mirror so he can fix his own problems. He should have done that by now. When the right man comes along I hope I recognize him for who and what he is. And I hope he sees in me what and who I truly am. Because when that happens, true magic comes to life. The magical energy of two hearts perfectly in tune with each other.
As a writer I play What If a lot. But playing What If with my heart is a tricky game. I can dream up dozens of scenarios where I first meet him. The One. I don't know if I've already come across him or if he's waiting for me to find him. But I'm not going to wait forever on what Might Be. I'm going to push the boundaries of my comfort zone and go in search of What Is.
If you've been following my blog, you know by now that I'm recovering from a bad relationship and a misguided childhood. I'm seeing things more clearly than ever before. Those of you who know me from The Writer's Chatroom know that I'm a flirt. It's fun and for the most part harmless. I've been flirting with a lot of people lately, some close, some far away, some new, some I've been flirting with a long time. It's like playing Cat & Mouse, which I've also blogged about. The game can be fun, but everybody has to play along. I'm not one for playing those games for long.
At this point, I've figured out what I want. And I DON'T WANT TO WAIT FOR IT! I want something real, something close enough to touch. I want someone who already knows what he wants, and how to recognize it when he finds it. I don't want to have to drag him in front of his own mirror so he can fix his own problems. He should have done that by now. When the right man comes along I hope I recognize him for who and what he is. And I hope he sees in me what and who I truly am. Because when that happens, true magic comes to life. The magical energy of two hearts perfectly in tune with each other.
As a writer I play What If a lot. But playing What If with my heart is a tricky game. I can dream up dozens of scenarios where I first meet him. The One. I don't know if I've already come across him or if he's waiting for me to find him. But I'm not going to wait forever on what Might Be. I'm going to push the boundaries of my comfort zone and go in search of What Is.
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