I Know Someone

I know someone today whose heart is heavy with grief.

Whose pain comes in like the tide.

Who turns to find comfort yet the comforter is gone
and only emptiness fills that place.

My heart breaks for the friend I have never seen, never met.

My heart breaks for the loss we share.

The loss of love.

The loss of companionship.

The loss of hope.

Do not despair, my far-away friend.

We do not grieve as though who have no hope.

A piece of our soul rejoins the One we serve.

We will meet again
when we run into the arms of the One
all those little bits of our soul will return to us

Perfectly restored, perfectly healthy, perfectly eternal

Like us.

Like Him.

Wait patiently.

The Long Step comes for us all.

Gimme Some Corn

My writer's block woes seemed to inspire at least one writer's creativity. Glad I could help, Kat, at least with your blog post.

While reading her thoughts on the matter, I recalled something Roland Yeomans once wrote: remember your first love. Actually, Jesus might have said that first, but Roland repeated it a while ago.

I thought I had remembered. I even added the song that went with the post to my "Songs of the Turtle" page as inspiration for Past Ties (Walking in the Air, if you're curious).

If I did remember, I promptly walked away and forgot again, like the fool in James. Or maybe I didn't remember the most important thing about why I write.

I write for the corn.

It's the same reason I read. Or watch movies. I want melodrama. I want over-the-top emotive experiences. I grew up on William Shatner's Star Trek. Tom Baker's Doctor Who. I cried at Charmed episodes, people, not because they're good, but because they are over-the-top melodramas!

This is what I've been missing! The corn!

I've been so focused on removing all things corny, I forgot that's what I love to write. See, I wanted something deep and solid and meaningful. Something hearty and bread-like. Something serious. Silly me.

Oh, I'll tone it down later, have no fear. But to start...to get it out on the page...I must plant lots and lots of corn. I must be Dr. McCoy, not Mr. Spock. Somewhere down the line, I'll find that middle ground of season one Captain Kirk. You know, when he was good? 

Is the proof in the cornbread? I wrote over 1K words last night. Easily. Corn everywhere, but I wrote. It wasn't painful or laborious. It wasn't flat or cautious. Just good ole-fashioned melodrama.
Explosions! Hypnotism (a staple of early 80's TV)! Trauma wards and rubble! Ah, good times. Nothing like a little carnage to get the heart pounding. Pile on a few arguments and a life-and-death decision and wham! It's off to the movies for the turtle!

Ha!

For the record, I used no exclamation points last night. If your verbs are strong enough, you don't need 'em.

Anyhoo, I'm not saying the block is gone. I am saying, I'm looking forward to my next block of writing time.

And my next batch of cornbread.

Get Busy Writing

Once more the NAF tallies are in and the stats revealed for how our current WsIP progress.

Dismal.

For me. I can't judge the others by their numbers. Only they know how much they've cut before adding.

Reading The Iguana's post about The Hero's Journey as illustrated by Avatar the anime series, I considered that I have no hero's journey in Past Ties. I have them in my first two books. I have them in other books I intend to write. Why not this one? Is that the problem?

TT: I have so many problems listed at this point I should just write a book about all the reasons I can't write this book. At least I'd be writing something.

Who would be the hero in Past Ties? Not Shah. She has all the right elements, but it just isn't there. Maybe because she starts depressed. Could be William (formerly Orell, formerly Petrov, formerly Parok, poor guy) but that would really shift the story to uncharted territory. Plus, while surrounded by people who could kick his tail, he doesn't automatically have the ability to kick back, unless I change the qualifiers for tail-kicking. It pre-exhausts me to think about it.

It isn't Luckfellow. I fear she will never change.

It could be Gavran. I'm going to try it with him. I like hero's journeys. I'm going to hang out in Gavran's head for a while, viewpoint-wise, and see if I can get this thing moving.

Frankly, I don't know why I'm still trying to work on it. I'm avoiding the computer because of it. I had a nice block of writing time set aside last night and found all kinds of ways to fill it with other stuff. Not even FV stuff. I must be desperate.

Can I blame Anne Lamott, that odd duck I mocked who suffered writer's block for 3 years? Would be poetic justice, wouldn't it?

No. I have only myself to blame, and only myself to write my way out of the mess.

That's okay. My new, improved, proactive self is up to any challenge.

Hope Gavran is.

Caprice Hokstad, the interview

She agreed and you can join us at
The New Authors' Fellowship.

What Field?

This year I've noticed more professionals. I'm sure they existed prior to this year, but, like the woman who buys a new car and then sees it at every stoplight, I'm noticing them.

Dave Ramsey, the financial expert. Seth Godin, Internet marketing guru. The guy last night who has worked in business systems analysis and accounting for 25 years and speaks with authority on the subject. Compelling authority.

Where's my field? Why am I not an expert in something? I have 20 years behind me, 11 in the same industry. 

The obvious answer is I don't care about anything enough to become an expert. This would be an addendum to the "lack of passion" whining theme running through the blog over the past year. Hard to become an expert by accident, although it may not be impossible.

TT: I have also noticed as I seek to become more involved, more proactive, more useful to my customers (and that includes my so-called employer), I may have accidentally picked up more knowledge than I suspected. I do know a lot about my industry. Not as much as I could have had I paid attention all these years, but enough to surprise me.

But, an expert? Hardly. I'm just playing in the dirt.

You know, this is what happens when you wake up and start looking around. You wonder "why am I so far behind on the game board of Life?" Is this covetousness? I don't like it.

I didn't use to have these thoughts. I used to be content with my little house and my numerous cats and my satisfactory if not substantial paycheck.

When I deal with folks now, I measure them. What have they done? What knowledge or skill set have they accrued/are they accruing? Are they experts or phonies? Can they do something I can, only better? Why did they push forward and I didn't? Would I be as good (or better) if I had applied myself?

It's not about material success. It's more about "what have they done with their lives/talents/gifts and why have I not done something more with mine?" This has to be a mid-life crisis, which doesn't bode well for my 111 plan. It's starting way too early.

I want a field. I don't care if it's a yard square in the middle of a swamp, I want one. Don't know what it will be yet, but I'm surveying. Maybe writing, maybe something else, like accounting. The world needs accountants, too.

So, yes, I am judging you. You'll be happy to know at this point, y'all are coming out way ahead of the turtle.

Not for long.

Aha!

Remember last week I told you about that list of "Important but not Urgent" things I stuck on my calendar and completely failed to do because of other "Important and Urgent" things that got in the way?

Well, it seems when you keep such a list, a time does come when you can get to it.

This work week has been quieter, and I've completed three items on that list, and started another. I finished two items ahead of deadline and caught up on one on-going task that had gotten behind. The bonus? I didn't have to stop and think "what should I do now?" I had the list right there and I picked tasks to fit the time available.

I don't pretend for a moment I've mastered this skill, but it is nice to enjoy the gratification of checking the box, even if only for one month. Makes that mountain of sand seem a little more solid.
I'll aim to compose one of these every Friday afternoon for work. The list for the rest of my life I'll make Sunday evenings. I try to keep work and life as separate as possible.

It would probably help to continue writing that mission statement. Then I'll know where my priorities are and thus what's truly "Important but maybe not Urgent."

The One Day...

So the one day I don't blog in the morning is the one day Mom notices.

That's not true. My blogging has been sporadic for a while now. Because I'm getting a life. A writer's life. That's good, but it does mean my mornings aren't quite what they were. Plus, even for me, four blogs are a lot to juggle. I know you all think I'm hilarious, but it takes effort to be this funny. I can't just go to the store and buy some funny.

What a great idea. A funny store. Write a short, Kat. Name a character after me.

I got some great news today, but I'm going to be mean and make you wait to hear it. I'll probably write it at NAF. You'll need kleenex 'cause I'm going to make it extra sappy and sloppy. Vaulter's made me cry often enough. Turnabout's fair play and all that.

Is that enough, mom? I need to finish Kat's Finding Angel.

Love you!

Best Laid Plans

It's gray in Kansas, and cold. Not as gray and cold as this time last year, but enough to make it hard to wake up. I hate being cold.

I added a "follow by email" button to my blogs. Since I've been a bit sporadic lately, and since I'm guessing the email notification includes the post so you could conceivably read it on your phone (not while driving, please), it seemed a no-brainer. I don't know if it tells me you've signed up or not. Let me know if you like it.

Last night did not go as planned. I had a plan and got side-tracked. By people.

Stephen Covey says when you organize your life according to higher, guiding principles as expressed in your mission statement, you are better able to prioritize your energy into important things. He considers people important and nearly impossible to schedule. chuckle. I'm learning to agree with him.

Rabbi Lapin said impatience with interruptions only proves my arrogance, not my competence. I was interrupted several times, but I felt no impatience (not last night, anyway). I love the people who interrupted me. We got some things done I hadn't planned. I inadvertently started a Bible study. We'll see how that goes.

I guess my point is a little lost sleep for one night won't kill me.

Just don't push it, folks. Sleep-deprived turtles are grumpy.

The Duke's Handmaid by Caprice Hokstad

I interviewed Caprice the farmer on Virtual Buttercups. Now read what I think of her first book over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

What A Week

In my study of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, I encountered the concept of "Important But Not Urgent." Stephen Covey included charts for me to study, but the basic concept is planning ahead prevents crises and increases overall efficiency.

Well, I'm trying. I made my list at the beginning of the work week of Important But Not Urgent things. I've got it on a sticky note on my calendar. I keep looking at it, thinking "this is what I'm doing next."

And then someone hands me something else to do right now. By "someone," I'm referring to various bosses.

How can I be proactive when other people are planning my work life?

I'm not whining. I really want to know. Am I supposed to stay late at work without overtime pay to get my list done? Should I modify my list? How? How do adults handle such things?

'Cause that's what this proactivity stuff is all about, really: being an adult. I always thought I was. Boy howdy, have I been wrong.

Here's a bigger, meta-question. Has this happened all along? Is this my work life and I've just never bothered to notice? Since I've been trying to change my mindset, what I seem to notice more and more is a sense of falling behind, of trying to climb a mountain of loose sand. I can't get any purchase.

I'm hoping this feeling is illusory, that I am making progress, however small, which will ultimately lead to some kind of aha moment.

What I fear is a growing sense of the eternal nature of work. A pile of tasks continuing to infinity and beyond. That's enough to make me want to drive into a parked bus.

Oh well. I like my job most days. I'm guessing these are growing pains and I'll stretch them out eventually. Besides, it's Friday. I'll have a whole new set of Important But Not Urgent things to work on for the weekend.

Useless

I ate myself stupid on chicken fajitas last night, and all I want is to crawl back to bed and sleep the rest of the day.

Alas, my job has other plans.

At least I can eat some fajitas before I go. I have about 3 pounds of meat and vegetables to polish off before it goes bad and kills me. I wonder how long that takes?

Hope I don't find out. No one at NAF will believe any death notice about me now, no matter how seriously it's written.

All part of my plan.

To Eulogy or Not To Eulogy

Considering the positive response over at NAF, I should blog about my humorous fictional death more often. Funny is more fun to read than whiny.

Technically, I didn't fulfill my assignment. Stephen Covey wants me to write a life mission statement and he suggested starting with a eulogy. What would I want people to say about me after I've taken The Long Step?

It's not an easy assignment, mostly because it requires me to project 60 years into the future and ask "what would I do?"

It would be simple to make stuff up (hence the NAF post), but if this exercise is a prelude to a personal mission statement then I could conceivably be expected to begin doing things that would result in the stuff mentioned in the eulogy. I'm pretty sure that's the point of the exercise.

So it's all well and good to mention I used a portion of my book profits to start Heaven's Cat House, a not-for-profit cat adoption agency, but how on earth would I do that? Well, I'd have to actually make a profit on a book, so it's possible I'm getting way ahead of myself, but if I did, then what? Is that what this goal of reading business/marketing books is for?

This is the kind of pressure I tried to escape by just "killing" myself early. Then I can leave unfinished stuff and not worry about it.

Plus, my fear is even 60 years in the future the best thing someone can say about me is "she was a great Farmville neighbor." I've been assured, however, Farmville won't last that long. That's a thought to make me weep into my oatmeal.

But, to end on a funnier note, the "bike into a parked bus" incident is real. I was in my early 20's and the last bike I'd ridden braked when you back-peddled. Didn't help a bit as I rolled down a hill toward a bus. By the time I figured out the brakes were on the handlebars, all I did was practice some of those Newtonian physics by propelling my unbraked self forward into the bus. I limped away from that particular humiliation (under the wide-eyed stares of the 200 camp youths I was counseling) with two severely jammed fingers, a knot the size of an apple on my thigh, a wrenched back and a lump on the back of my head where I hit the pavement after bouncing off the bus.

Okay, maybe that's only funny if you're really sick. I have to admit, had I been watching, I would have  laughed until I wet myself. Feel free to chuckle away. I won't tell.

A Weird Life

Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

So Much Funnier Than What I Had Planned

I intended to talk about the contest I entered this weekend, my first for 2011. You know, the Hill's pet food contest where they're paying $10K for the best pet weight loss story? I submitted my 144 word essay Saturday.

Since I won't hear back from them unless I win, though, this would have been a fairly boring post.

Thankfully, Holly Heisey posted this link on her FB page this morning. These guys are officially my favorite bromance, mostly because they're real.

Simon Pegg and Nick Frost's Star Wars.

Turn the sound up (unless you're at work) and enjoy!

Failure?

When I told My Dear Friend about my New Year's goals, she gave me that look. Yes, we were on the phone, but some looks don't require visual contact.

"You're not going to be able to manage that," she said.

"I'll be fine," I assured her. A note of condescension may have crept into my voice. "I don't have all the same responsibilities you do. You'll see."

She may be right.

I haven't picked up a fiction book since I finished The Gathering Storm by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson in January. I'm plowing through The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, but technically, I should have finished that in February. My first serious attempt to write on Past Ties this month was last night.

I'm not making it.

I'm not quitting, either, and I'm leaving my goals as is. For now.

What My Dear Friend knew and I failed to anticipate is all the stuff life can throw my way. The nieces are more involved in stuff, and that means more concerts, recitals, plays and whatnot. No sports, thank you, Lord. I don't think I could do that even for them. I love you gals, but I can't think of a single sport you could practice that would entice me.

Well, gymnastics was okay. I just couldn't sit on the floor because I kept gasping and startling the team. My bad. So sorry I can't handle watching tiny bodies barely evading horrible, neck-snapping, life altering potential injury. I'll work on that.

The Kansas legislature is back in session, so some attention must go there. Responsible citizenship takes time and effort. I am learning to be a responsible citizen.

But none of those things were happening last night. I could check off goals with abandon. With the TV off, devotions finished and 30 minutes of book reading out of the way, I sat down to write. Then I paused.

I've thought of a short story idea I could post either on RT the FB page or at NAF, so I was torn between starting that or working on Past Ties. Which one?

Or, I could check out the new Splashdown Books writing event Avenir Eclectia, which on first notification freaked me out no end, but upon further reflection sounds a lot like what I used to do before I wrote books (I believe that is now called fanfic, but I could be wrong). Anyway, a little, bitty part of me thinks submitting a short story there could be fun, and I want very much to encourage that part. Seems like a publishing-seeking writerly thing to do. But if I'm doing that, I'm not writing on Past Ties and I need to do that if I want to make my deadline.

What to do, what to do? 

I set the distractions aside and wrote on Past Ties. I'll add the short story and Avenir Eclectia to my to-do list and plan time for them. With the TV off, I make progress on my list. It may be slow but it's steady.

That's why I'm keeping my goals. I may not accomplish them in quite the time frame I expect, but I will accomplish them. One month at a time, one goal at a time, one priority at a time.

It's not so different from leveling up in Farmville, really, and I've been doing that for almost a year.

Priorities

I'm sorting mine over at The New Authors' Fellowship.

Check it out.

Operation Rolling Thunder

Have you heard of this? I know it's bigger than just our city, and I think it's bigger than just our state.
Churches take one day a month, and populate that day with members who pray for half hour slots. The result is a continuous layer of prayer coating your city, state and our nation.

Prayer focuses on seven key areas of life: family, government/military, church, media/entertainment; arts, business, education and health care. You can see the complete list fleshed out at

http://www.topekaoperationrollingthunder.blogspot.com:80/.  

Churches in our state have jumped in (and, boy howdy, do we need it in Kansas. Topeka has a 666 zip code) and fantastic things are happening.

The power of prayer is real. God's people turning to Him daily in intercession for the world changes everything. Why do you think Tribulation follows the removal of the Holy Spirit?

This is my third year of this kind of scheduled prayer. It's not hard, and you can incorporate it into your daily devotional time if you have one. I believe it is making the difference in our state. God will perform miracles when His people pray.

If thunder isn't rolling in your state, pray anyway. Tell a friend and pray in conjunction.

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst." -Jesus.

When Did Life Get So Busy?

At one of the numerous meetings I'm attending this week, I heard the lament about when life would slow down. Slowing down has not been my experience. Seems to me, life only speeds up until it finally flings you out into the grand abyss of death.

I could be wrong. But I'm not.

March has not slowed down. I have stopped all TV watching during the week. That's helped.

The nights are given to meetings. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed My Lamb's choral recital. I enjoyed The Flash's band concert (I'm not lying. I really did). I found listening to Jack Cashill about his most recent book Deconstructing Obama quite interesting, and my autographed copy sits on my stack of books to read for the year. I don't know if I will categorize it as "marketing" or "business." Probably "business" since he's a professional writer and I can learn from his style. It is most certainly not fiction, no matter what the liberal media would tell you.

My 30-30-30 plan is suffering. I'm getting devotionals in, but they weren't actually part of the plan.
Writing on Past Ties has happened only in my head. "Walking" is from the car to wherever and back, which would be fine if I were parking because I park in the boondocks. Those with whom I carpool, alas, do not. Except for Tuesday when we couldn't find any close spaces and had to park two blocks away. That was good.

I could start taking a book with me to get my 30 minutes of reading in, a habit I've lost over the years, but I can't read in the car and I think it's rude to read when other people are in the room not reading.
Yes, it's odd I would find that rude, but I do. I have learned a few valuable social behaviors. Not many, but a few.

I have managed to get a little more sleep than last week. I could up the sleep quota by putting the cats back in the basement but I have so little time with them at the moment, I'm afraid what schemes might be devised down there in the dark. Better to keep them close while I can.

Once again, time moves on and leaves me behind. That's my way of saying this is all the post I can manage this morning. Another meeting tonight, but this one involves food. Huzzah!

Thin Ice

That's where I am.

Find out why at The New Authors' Fellowship.

Rolling In Dough

Cooking failed to interest me as a child. Other than the end result, that is. Oh, mom tried to teach me, but I would have none of it. When I entered college life, she gave me a helpful notebook filled with all the life skills I refused to notice earlier called Where's Mom Now That I Need Her? In reality, she was one hour and one phone call away, but the point was clear.

My college roommate cooked with what I will call practicality. Did you know just about anything can bake for 20 minutes at 350 degrees and come out edible? I learned how to have a meat, vegetable and starch ready at the same time. I even learned how to make macaroni and cheese so delicious and unhealthy you could die just looking at it.

When a family friend showed me how to make stew, my cooking career launched. Casseroles, soups and stews are even easier than baking chicken and create a week's worth of meals instead of a single sit-down. I don't use recipes, just ingredients, and I like the results the majority of the time. Especially when I remember to add salt.

A few years ago, I got hooked on the show America's Test Kitchen (now owned by Martha Stewart and called something else I can't remember). I learned the difference between cooking and baking.

In cooking, you can throw ingredients in a pot and as long as you don't cook out the color of the vegetables get passable results.

Try that with baking and you will get a mess.

Baking is all about chemistry. This ingredient reacting with that ingredient to create this effect. Beat X amount of times. Too few and it falls apart. Too many and congratulations! You made a rock. 

I am not a baker. The only oven in my house is a toaster oven, and I use it mostly with store-bought bagels.

Where am I going with this? I'm not sure.

Maybe I'm saying life is a kitchen, where sometimes you cook and other times you have to bake.

Maybe I'm saying I would rather wing it than measure it.

Maybe God made both ways so all personality types would have a chance to both enjoy and hate food preparation.

Mostly I'm saying, "I'm so sorry the cream puffs didn't turn out, my lamb. I hope you're able to salvage the second batch, and we'll try it again when we have more Crisco."

No Inspiration Today

Except for Farmville topics, which you can check out on my other blog, Virtual Buttercups.

Last night was a late night, and tonight looks the same way. Two cups of tea are not helping, either. I may need a White Chocolate Mocha slim latte with a shot of cinnamon this afternoon. See, I've
learned cinnamon masks the bitter coffee taste as well as ice cream does. I suspect that's a bad thing, considering how expensive coffee shop coffee drinks are.

We'll see if Momma Turtle reads this today. heh heh.

A New Month

Ralene over at Faith, Hope & Suspense started a 3-in-30 task where you set 3 goals and accomplish them in 30 days.

My goals this year are not quite so time-specific, but I am taking the opportunity to incorporate a few lifestyle changes this month. If I practice them well in March, I may continue into April.

I call it the 30-30-30 plan. Thirty minutes of walking, thirty minutes of reading and thirty minutes of writing. Just occurred to me I need to add 30 minutes of Bible study. Hmm.

I've combined walking and reading so far because it's too cold and messy to walk outside. I can read on the treadmill.

The upside is I choose what I'm doing in that 30 minutes. I can walk inside or outside. I can read business books or fiction books (both are necessary for me the writer so I don't feel guilty about either). I can write on my WIP or something else, as long as I'm writing. I'm sticking with Past Ties.
And I choose when I do these things. So far, it's been early evening when I would normally turn on must-be-stupid TV and drool for a while.

Why tell you this?

Because today's schedule is weird, so I have to go do my 30-30-30 now instead of tonight. Which is my way of saying sorry about the less than inspiring blog post. I'll try to do better tomorrow.

Learning Curve

Have you heard when you learn a new skill, all your original skills get worse for a while? Something to do with energy expenditures, change of focus, reorganizing brain matter - something like that.

Well, February was one long dropped ball as far as practicing new skills go.

TT: That's the right phrase, isn't it? When you throw a football and the guy at the other end of the field doesn't catch it? I don't know why I keep trying to use sports metaphors like I understand them.

But, practice makes perfect and perseverance is what makes practice possible. I have goals. I haven't shared them all with you, dear readers, but I wrote some down. Taking Dave Ramsey's advice, I even made them somewhat specific and measurable. Not too specific and measurable. When I started to experience petit mal panic attacks, I backed up a step and called it "good enough."

But my intention with March is to continue those goals with one important difference.

I will start now. Technically, I started yesterday, but February is very short.

See, I waited in February. The month was stretched out in front of me, looking all far away and open for business, so I didn't take the starting seriously. Then, as tends to happen with life, time contracted, and I'm left at the end with nothing to show for it except a truly exceptional Fill Zone score.

I don't want a repeat of February in March. Difficult, since March is a repeat of February plus 3 days.

Last night, I left the TV off. I exited FB and read a chapter of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, my next business book, while walking on my treadmill. I completed the daily devotional for the class I'm taking at church. I wrote some on Past Ties. And I ended with a little time for Bubble Spinner during a friend's phone call (curse you, Mindjolt! Why must your games be so attractive?).

It is a start. Last night, I saddled my donkey and reaped a tiny benefit. Good for me. Now I must do it again. One day at a time, one goal-step at a time, one skill-set at a time.

Today is the first day of the rest of my month. I will use it better.

And, yes, I'm fully aware Murphy waits around the next hour to trip me up in my perceived success. I will ignore him. When you miss a meal, you don't give up eating. If I miss a step, I will not stop walking.

A Man and His Donkey

It confused me, too.

The New Authors' Fellowship is where I work it out.

What Is It About Home?

I have all these ideas at work. Plans, really, about those last few precious hours of the day and what productive ways I will use them. Sometimes I make lists. I have one tonight. Writing this post is on it.
I get home, and the ideas, plans and lists melt away.

I'm home. I'm wrapped in my fluffy bathrobe, with the space heater pulled close and a cat or two in my lap, and it's so easy to turn on the TV and zone out to stupidity.

What happened to me? I've never been a model of activity, but ten years ago, I would be gardening (either in the yard or planning for when I would be in the yard). Or painting walls and rearranging furniture. Or sculpting  miniatures. Six years ago, I wrote a book. Five years ago, I built a screen door by myself. Made a little working model and everything. Three years ago, I started Elementals, and it took almost two years to finish.

I haven't seriously worked in my garden in two years. Do I blame it all on the weird neighbors and clouds of mosquitoes? I don't know.

I can't seem to get any traction on Past Ties. Am I written out?

I don't rearrange furniture anymore. I've finally gotten a configuration that allows the cats to walk the length of the house without touching the floor or knocking anything over. It took a while, and I don't want to risk it.

Even Farmville doesn't hold my attention like it did last year. Not that I'm tired of it or giving it up. It's just become so...cumbersome. All those things to move around on my giant farm.

TT: On second thought, I love my farm. We'll pretend I didn't write anything about it. hehe!

Is this age? Are my cumulative years weighing me down? Heavens, I hope not! Based on family history, I'm not even middle-aged.

Perhaps it's an excess of material things. Last weekend showed me how desperately my home needs a good cleaning out. My trash men will be busy in March. If I do what's on my list.

Is it the TV? Time does funny things when the TV is on. It's off at the moment, by the way. With only three channels, you'd think I wouldn't find something to watch. You'd be wrong. The DVD player works fine.

Maybe it's just being home. Being the place I love the best, where I don't have to do anything or be anybody other than me. And me seems to be a lazy slob.

Huh.

Good thing I'm funny.

An Odd Month

When I started February, it looked like a normal month. Open calendar, no commitments, plenty of time to do the normal.

Boy howdy, was I wrong!

Meetings sprang up like weeds in July. Phone calls poured in with friends in crisis and friends not in crisis. Invitations flooded my inbox and of course I had to attend because I'm practicing my under-developed social networking skills.

Meaning, almost none of the things I planned for February are anywhere near completion. I'm wandering around lost in the month and I can't see the end.

Well, actually, the end is a few days away. Terrifying!

Is this how normal people live? How on earth do they do it? I don't have the energy to do all these things and go all these places and interact with all these people and be nice about it. I don't think anybody does. Yet, unless you're an idiot savant, you're expected to do it.

I don't multi-task. I barely "task." Interrupt me and we'll both pay (but I'll make sure you pay more).

So February has been one, long interruption. Often pleasant interruptions involving delicious food, but interruptions nonetheless.

The lesson I take from this is to plan better at the beginning and expect to "make up the time" should life get in my way. Like a hiker lost in the woods, keep my eyes on my destination, not the surrounding wilderness.

That, and I'm taking some vacation days next month. I don't care if they need me at work. They'll get more of me than they want if I don't take some alone time. I'm peopled out.

Not with you, dear readers.

Well, not much.

Who Is Listening?

Now that this blog gets published on FB, I'll admit I'm a little gun-shy about what I post. All the same insecurities experienced when I joined The New Authors' Fellowship are back.

However, they seem smaller. Perhaps, like public speaking, public writing is something to practice until it becomes second nature.

I'll find out.

Forgive today's short post, but I woke up late and already posted two other places. Besides, I need breakfast and I'm craving something barbecue. Not quite sure what I'm going to do about that. KC Masterpiece on oatmeal? I think not.

Keep New Zealand in your prayers. Pain is rampant in the world today, and I don't mean just yours.

This Is Who I Am

You'll have to go to The New Authors' Fellowship to find out.

Join the Club

We're all stressed. Me, my Friends both FB and writer if you believe their posts, my cats...

I had a nightmare last night. I don't have them often, for which I am grateful.

I dreamed I opened a cupboard and found a pile of half-dead pets I'd forgotten I owned. Not hard, since I've never owned a pile of hamsters, guinea pigs and two parrots. Why parrots would allow themselves to be forgotten in a cupboard is beyond me, but this was a nightmare.

TT: They were half-dead because I am a practitioner of lucid dreaming. I do not allow nightmares to become more scary than I can handle. Yes, I am a control freak even in my dreams. Yet another reason I am single. 

The meaning is clear. I went to bed with responsibilities unfulfilled and my subconscious called me on it. My schedule got rearranged without my consent, my routine was interrupted and things I should have done remained undone.

Were they huge things? No. The litter boxes will always need to be cleaned. Dishes can be washed in the morning as easily as the evening. Devotions are useless when I'm tired, right?

The result of pushing aside all these tasks was a restless night, a morning headache and a serious case of the grumpies I hope to shake by eating nacho Doritos (it seems to be working).

Why is it highs are followed by lows? Why is defeat lurking around every victory? Why is it so easy to see the darkness even when light was right there?

Fallen world, I guess.

I wish I were on the other side of this day, but I'm not.

God, help me to end better than I began. It shouldn't be hard. Amen.

One More Step

Last night, I added Ranunculus Turtle the Blog to Networked Blogs. With some careful selection, I even managed to get confirmed as the author overnight. Many thanks to Friends and family who helped with that.

Attempting to increase readership here is one of those scary but necessary steps to publication. Platform-building and such.

TT: I looked at my stats. Talk about scary! 

Once again, as I jump into the fray of increased exposure (though by no means as broad as The New Authors' Fellowship), I must consider do I want to be me as a blogger or do I want to be good as a blogger? I would hope I can be both, but I fear I will be the first more than the second. I am always me, no matter how hard I fight against it. Anyway, this is my blog. I can be me all I want.

I don't have much to say this morning, but I wanted mostly to say "thank you for your support."

Oh, and "There's no substitute for good manners except fast reflexes."

I'll try to be more profound tomorrow. Don't know if I can pull it off on a Friday, but Thursday's giving me nothing.

Balance. Again.

You would think a turtle is naturally balanced. Four legs firmly planted on the ground, weighted with that heavy shell and a head mostly condemned to point forward.

It's the head that gets me. I do point in one direction at a time.

But I have more directions in my life than one. Yes, even me. I have church, Tea Party activism, Farmville (I'm not giving it up so don't go there), my writing journey both in platform building and publication-seeking. And writing. Don't forget writing Past Ties. Critique groups. Books to read as part of my 2011 resolutions. A house in desperate need of vacuuming.

And the pets. The pets are always there, yelling at me.

When I get over-whelmed, and I have felt over-whelmed this past few weeks, I retreat. This is not a good thing or a bad thing. It's just a thing. 

I haven't read my Blogs I Follow in the last week. I haven't actively promoted anybody, including myself. I haven't read anything and my blogging schedule is suffering. Even Farmville wasn't enough of a retreat, so I found a new obsession to blank my mind and lead me out of reality.

Fill Zone.

Why did I ever go to Mindjolt? Cube Crash was bad enough, but at least I could walk away from it. Fill Zone won't let me go.

That's okay, though. I made it through yesterday without playing it at all. That's good. I will take it one day at a time without Fill Zone, and instead "fill" my life with the other real things that need doing. The new Bible study. The attempts to critique in the Sandbox once a week. The resumption of blogging. The continual attempts to monetize my website no matter how many times I fail.

Okay, too many things. Feeling over-whelmed. I'm gonna finish breakfast and go vacuum. Can't get more real than vacuuming.

Flaws

We all have them. Is that why we love them in our characters?

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Fringe Rediscovered

Last year, the nieces asked me to change my "visitation" night. Wednesdays were becoming too hectic. Thursday was the only other viable night. The problem?

Fringe airs on Thursday, and the nieces don't watch it.

Yes, I know. All the Normals who read this just freaked out. Of course my real live flesh-and-blood nieces are more important than a TV show.

To you, maybe. To me, this was a real dilemma. I mean, Fringe could get canceled any time. The world is just too uncertain for TV shows nowadays.

*evil grin*

But I took the high road and gave up Fringe to see the nieces whom I love (completely forgetting the other monthly meetings I have on Thursdays which are less important than Fringe but apparently more important than the nieces because I've attended those meetings and subsequently seen the girls less than ever. Sigh).

Fringe moved to Fridays. Yea! you think. Not so. I've missed half a season. I won't have a clue what's going on, so no point even bothering to tune in. 

Anyway, I completely forgot about Hulu. Until last Friday. I couldn't begin at the beginning, which was irksome, but I could watch the five most recent episodes, which is way better than just the most recent episode.

I've missed Fringe so much! Those five episodes were so wonderfully creepy, so emotionally intense, so nail-bitingly suspenseful I forgot to check out who the writers were. It's either JJ Abrams himself or he finally promoted some good lackeys.

It helps that the cast are relatively good actors, but a sound script can make even William Shatner sound good. I hold up Star Trek season one as my proof. And Boston Legal season one, before it got too serious about itself.

TT: I love William Shatner, by the way. Aside from the Pinis and C.L.Dyck, he's my favorite Canadian. Oh, and Bill Murray. Hey, number four ain't nothing to sneeze at.

I'm back on my Fringe fix and so happy about it.

If only I could convert the nieces.

Critiques

The cats banished themselves to the basement last night (perhaps with angelic help), so I feel somewhat rested this morning. Until I get that mouthpiece adjustment later this month, I'm sleeping with several stacks of pillows to give my neck a rest. Unfortunately, it's leading to back pain. Sigh. I can't win for losing.

Instead of working on Past Ties last night, I spent some time in the Sandbox.

One of this year's resolutions is to spend critique time on someone else's stuff at least once a month. I'm very green at critiquing others (shocking, isn't it, considering how critical I am) and I need to practice. "Honesty with grace" is my goal. I'll settle for "useful."

A Sandboxer asked for help with a character's emotional issues. Feeling somewhat qualified to comment on that (since I have so very many of my own), I did. I hope it helps.

The Sandbox is an odd, wonderful mix of folks. Frankly, I feel like an ant among giants. It's a bit like the bazaar on Deva. Some of them are unpublished, some are professional writers. Some are jacks-of-all-trades. We've got people experienced in metallurgy, binary programming, Renaissance sword smithing and sword-fighting, sharp-shooters... Actually, that may be the same person, as I think about it.

It's a bit over-whelming. Yes, it's a fount of potential knowledge, but it freaks me out, too. I have to approach as the most naked of newbies. That's never comfortable.

Fortunately, they're also nice. 

The sheer variety of stories is over-whelming, too. My reading preference is definitely fantasy, but I'm the minority in the Sandbox. That isn't too odd considering Sandboxers are also Anomaliens. I noticed this difference during the MLS contest. Even in the fringe group, I'm on the fringe.

TT: Actually, I think I'm the bonnet-and-buggy crowd of the spec-fic world. My tastes are just too normal. That's okay.

We've had lots of speculative historical fiction come up and I shy away from those. Don't know why. Most of them include sci-fi crossover, which I love. I can't possibly crit everything that comes up (which may be a social faux pas). That's part of the reason I haven't critted much at all. Some of the stories are too far out of my interest range. I'll have to find a way to deal with that.

So Tayra and Gavran's issues must percolate in my subconscious one more night. That's okay. I'm writing down scenes as they come to me at the moment, hoping to lay some stepping stones on my path to completion. I'm getting there.

Update

My schedule is messed up.

I need a mouthpiece adjustment, and until I get it, I'm not sleeping well. This means I don't pop out of bed as usual, so my morning gets rearranged. I'm tired and prone to cranky because of it. Add mask-cutting and short-crop Nacho Mastery into the mix, and I don't post.

Nachos are Mastered as of yesterday, and masks are cut as of this morning, so that's good. One less thing. 

I have been writing, though. Bits and pieces of Past Ties, mostly scene snippets to come. But that's okay. With each snippet, the story seems to coalesce.

So, my apologies for the sporadic posts. Once I get my adjustment, and some sleep, I should be back on track.

We'll just have to struggle through until then.

More Therapy

One post just wasn't enough to plumb the therapeutic depths.

Check out part two at The New Authors' Fellowship.

Sean Connery

Two posts in one day? Yeah, well, I didn't get around to posting the NAF link yesterday, so today you get two posts. I'm not promising anything spectacular with this one. Just a random thought on a Friday.

I was thinking about Sean Connery. I do that sometimes.

What an odd career.

He's had successes. James Bond. Highlander. Darby O'Gill and the Little People. Yes, I count that as a success. The Presidio. Hunt for Red October. His cameo in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (undoubtedly the best part of the entire movie).

And then he's had his not-so-successes. Highlander 2 (don't get me started). Dragonheart (what a waste of a great idea). The Avengers. Yes, it was a quirky TV show, but, really? That's your script?

I'm going to put The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen into the neutral column. I loved the idea, but again the execution could have been better. Zardoz might fit here, too. I like it, but it's more of a cult classic than a great movie.

Then again, even his not-so-successes work because I'll go see a movie if he's in it. I love the man. I love to listen to him. "What do you want me to do? Kill him again?"

But he has had an odd career. In a special features interview -for The Avengers, I think- he admits he doesn't know what a good script is. He thinks most of them are stupid and trusts to his agent to steer him the right way.  I wonder how many agents he's fired.

TT: I get the impression he's a typical Welshman, that one. Don't know if I'd like him in real life, but at least I'd know where I stood.

I suppose the life lesson I take from him is to keep going. Sometimes you'll hit it, sometimes you'll miss, but hopefully your hits will outnumber your misses.

And to cultivate a great accent. That's a must. Hey, it's what makes Christopher Walken, right?

Therapy

I couldn't make the time to get this up yesterday so here it is now.

The New Authors' Fellowship.

We all need a little therapy. 

Where Is My Head?

I was so focused on shoveling snow this morning, I completely forgot to post. I don't know whether that's happened to me before. I don't think it's a good thing.

I'm trying to find a pic of a psychiatrist's couch for my NAF post, and I can't. Are couches going the way of the dodo? Maybe if I looked up dodos, I'd find one on a couch. 

While talking on the phone last night (something I've been doing instead of writing lately), I think I figured out the ending for Dangling Participles.

Wait a minute, Turtle. You're not working on Dangling Participles.

That's true, but it is closely linked to Past Ties, and I hadn't decided on an ending for either, so this feels like a big step. Maybe even a dramatic step.

See, Dangling Participles is like one of those TV show moments where the cast splits up for an episode and part of them goes one way to do something amazing while the other part goes another way except the stuff they do takes too long to make just one episode, so it becomes its own episode and if you watch it out of order, you still enjoy it, but it doesn't make as much sense as when you watch it in sequence.

TT: That may be my longest sentence ever for this blog. Read it slowly. The meaning is there.

Therefore, knowing how Dangling Participles ends significantly impacts how Past Ties will end.
Comprende?

Yeah, I don't get it, either, but it felt big.

For the record, I was talking about writing on the phone, not ignoring the other person while I thought about writing so it's okay for me to have worked this out during the conversation.

Otherwise I'd be a big selfish loser.

This post is all over the place. I don't know where my head is today.

Blizzards and Fur Coats

After last night, I am no longer the human of six cats. I am the human of one cat and five potential fur coats.

I haven't decided which cat gets to continue breathing.

They were all unbearable last night.

They took turns, of course. It started at 1:11 AM. Is there some cosmic significance to that number? I don't know. I don't care. I only care that some kind of cat-tag started and continued every hour on the hour until I finally stopped pretending to sleep about 4 AM.

Oh, I got up each time and tried to find the players, but they were too clever. They found places to hide in plain sight. Curled up in chairs and boxes, blinking at me with a "what are you doing up, mom?" even though at least two of them had to be involved. 

And the cats who weren't playing tag where either yelling at me or harassing the dog. For once, the dog got involved. My unflappable Sweetie got flapped by all the commotion and snarled and snapped on more than one occasion. She even jumped on the bed sometime between 3 and 4, I assume because at that point it felt more like a Sunday afternoon than a Tuesday early, early morning.

Should I have figured out what was happening and shut them in the basement immediately?
Probably.

But my brain doesn't work in the dark. By the time I realized this was a chronic incident, it was too late - or too early - to make any difference. Plus, I couldn't catch the little bastages.

So here I am, bleary-eyed and seething, with a sleeping cat who refuses to leave my lap no matter how many times I stand up and/or move her, surrounded by other furballs who get to laze the day away while I must brave the coming blizzard to earn the money to feed the little creeps who keep me up all night.

It's no wonder I look exhausted in all my recent photos.

Since this particular brand of nocturnal craziness has not happened in recent memory, I choose to believe the coming storm set them off. God willing, once it passes, we'll all be back to normal, or what passes for normal in this house.

Until then, they will be in the basement. Otherwise, momma may snap and make herself a new fur coat.

Why not? I'll be up.

Feeling Old

This showed up in my inbox (coincidentally after I complained on FB about the irritation of texting). While I never promised myself not to lecture kids about the hardships of my childhood, nor did I endure similar tales from my elders, the bullet points very much resonate.

And, yes, I edited it. Too many exclamation points. My apologies to Anonymous.

If you are 40, or older, you might think this is hilarious.

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up, what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning.... uphill...barefoot...BOTH ways. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on my kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it. But now that I'm over the ripe old age of forty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today. You've got it so easy. I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia. And I hate to say it, but you kids today don't know how easy you've got it.

1)      I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have the Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalog.

2)     There was no email. We had to actually write somebody a letter - with a pen. Then we had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox, and it would take like a week to get there.

3)     Child Protective Services didn't care if our parents beat us. As a matter of fact, the parents of all my friends also had permission to kick my tail. Nowhere was safe.

4)     There were no MP3's or Napsters or iTunes. If you wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the record store and shoplift it yourself.  Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio, and the DJ would usually talk over the beginning and mess it all up. 

5)  There were no CD players. We had tape decks in our car. We'd play our favorite tape and "eject" it when finished, and then the tape would come undone rendering it useless. Cause, hey, that's how we rolled, Baby! Dig?

6)     We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting. If you were on the phone and somebody else called, they got a busy signal. That’s it.

7)     There weren't any freakin' cell phones either. If you left the house, you just didn't make a call or receive one. You actually had to be out of touch with your "friends". OH MY GOSH! Think of the horror... not being in touch with someone 24/7. And then there's TEXTING. Yeah, right. Please! You kids have no idea how annoying you are.

8)      And we didn't have fancy Caller ID either. When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was. It could be your school, your parents, your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, the collection agent... you didn't know. You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister.

9)     We didn't have any fancy PlayStation or Xbox video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics. We had the Atari 2600. With games like 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your screen guy was a little square. And there were no multiple levels or screens. It was just one screen...Forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died. Just like LIFE! (yeah, I bolded that one)

10)  You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on. You were screwed when it came to channel surfing. You had to get off your tail and walk over to the TV to change the channel. NO REMOTES.

11)  There was no Cartoon Network, either. You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning. Do you hear what I'm saying? We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little--!

12)  And we didn't have microwaves. If we wanted to heat something up, we had to use the stove. Imagine that!

13)  And our parents told us to stay outside and play… all day long. Oh, no, no electronics to soothe and comfort. And if you came back inside... you were doing chores.

14)  And car seats? Oh, please! Mom threw you in the back seat and you hung on. If you were lucky, you got the "safety arm" across the chest at the last moment if she had to stop suddenly, and if your head hit the dashboard, well that was your fault for calling "shotgun" in the first place.

See? That's exactly what I'm talking about. You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled rotten. You guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in 1970 or any time before.

There's my technology rant for the day. Now I must brave the icy mist, drizzle and snow flurries to get to work, God willing, intact. 

Origins

Today's post will appear at The New Authors' Fellowship later this morning.


Sorry, you'll just have to wait.

Worth

Today's topic seemed more suited to Old-Fashioned Thoughts in a New Age World.

Worth.

Dark thoughts for a dark day.

Pushing

I have trouble paying attention. I'm not ADD or anything. I just don't find much interesting. Certainly not life. I've spent most of my time on this planet avoiding life on this planet.

I set Past Ties in 1990 Manhattan KS because I was there. So why can't I remember anything about it?

I remember So I Married An Axe Murder came out during that time, and the first STNG movie. Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and Disney's Trifecta: The Little Mermaid, Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast. We all had The Lion King soundtracks, and Madonna's Ray of Light, and Margaret Becker's Soul Tattoo, plus the best of REO Speedwagon.

TT: I may be seeing the problem.

Unfortunately, those aren't the details I need for Past Ties. I can use them, but they aren't what I need. And pushing to remember things I didn't notice just gave me a headache.

I can't remember the intake process for a hospital mental health admission. I took a class. I got an A. Makes no difference. Knowledge ain't there. No sense pushing for it.

I'm hoping I took notes. Fortunately, I kept my DSMIII-R, so at least I have the book in use at the time.

These are the blocks I've run into as my story progresses. Hardships where I expected smooth running. They've slowed me down and depressed me. I keep pushing but I don't seem to be getting anywhere. 

I had a strange bout of writing last night. It wasn't long, it wasn't ground-breaking, but it also wasn't pure dragging torture. The story moved forward. I chuckled a bit. I thought of another string to weave in. I was content with what I did. I didn't even jump ahead. Yet.

When I stopped, I sat in my comfy chair with a cat in my lap and pondered.

I've never written to a deadline before, not for my books, anyway.

I wanted to try doing so to see if I could. A real writer usually has to, right?

Well, I'm not a real writer yet. I don't have a contract or a publisher pushing me for pages. Right now, it's just me pushing me, and I don't think I like being pushed.

When I started Past Ties, I promised myself I no rules, no pressure, no constraints. I've been breaking that promise ever since. 

So I'm not going to worry about deadlines or word counts or the NAF WIP progress report. I'll just write for a bit and see what happens.

'Cause I'm officially out of ideas.

Weary

Scott Wilder has a phrase. "It wearies me."

He uses it when the government does something typically brain dead. I'm using it about Past Ties.

It wearies me.

If I'm tired of griping about it, you must be tired of reading me gripe about it. So why do I continue?
Good question. The best answer I can give is that I used to give up all the time. The minute a story stopped being "easy" to write, I jumped to a new story. I don't want to be like that anymore. I want to be a professional. I want to finish what I start.

But I am weary.

So weary I'm "this close" to setting it aside -again- and taking up Dangling Participles, the side-quel to Star of Justice.

I may not be ready to write Past Ties yet. It deals with the search for origins (I know mine), the problem of guilt (I don't believe in guilt) and the pain of unrequited love (I got over that a long time ago).

I just don't have the emotional resources to delve for this story, and it's making me grumpy and difficult to be around. 

Reading my fellow authors' successes on FB has not helped, either. While I'm happy for them and all their gushing and rushing of inspiration spilling out onto their keyboards, my darker half would rather smash those keyboards over their heads than hear about it one more time.

See, that's the "grumpy" I mentioned. I'm not normally the envious type.

Past Ties has one more week. I'm going to take a chance before giving up.

I'm going to jump ahead in the story and write some of those scenes rather than write in order like I did for Star of Justice and Elementals. It's a risk. It's what I used to do when I only wrote the "interesting" stuff and ignored all the groundwork that makes a story more than a short story.

But I'm dying here, and the story is dying with me. Maybe I need something drastic to kick this critter into gear.

Otherwise, February will see a new WIP for NAF, and a new word count, and possibly a new deadline.

'Cause I can't take the weary anymore.

Getting to Know You

It may have been Anne Lamott. It may have been The Lioness quoting Randy Ingermansen. I don't remember. Somebody said "get to know your characters."

I thought I did.

I've been looking for all these reasons why the writing isn't happening. It may come down to the simple "I don't know these people."

That would be a real reason I can't write it.

So, I've spent the last week thinking about them. The only writing I've done is in a file called Past Ties Outline.

I wrote down the major events of all three "books," and I stared at them. Why did these things happen? Who is this Gavran fellow? What horrendous event broke Shah? How important is Parok/Petrov/Orell (the poor guy's gone through more changes than an Animorph).

Mostly I've been asking myself "Do I like these people? Would anyone other than me like these people? Why?"

Good questions. My Outline file has expanded and contracted. Some backstory is showing up. Some continuity and plot issues are resolving. Some new ideas have grown and some old ones have been buried.

As I've considered Robert Jordan this week, reading the various reactions of other folks to his work, I've realized a very important thing.

I don't do simple.

I like complicated. I like details and intrigues and connections where no apparent connections exist. I like layers in my stories. I want to write things you can enjoy once, but will enjoy more when you go back.

Don't get me wrong. Simple has its place. Probably a bigger place in the market than my stuff.
But when I write, I want more to do.

So the Outline will continue, focusing on the history of the characters and their motivations when facing the crisis I've given them.

Gavran will lose some anger issues. Shah will lose some whine. Orell will get some hair (I originally wrote him bald, but I'm just not feeling it anymore, even trying to keep Vin Diesel as inspiration).

I'm not giving up. I'm digging in. I see a crack in that writer's block and I'm going for it

And to prove I'm serious, I closed my Fishville app. It's just me and the Farm now.

Worldbuilders

What do I think of Robert Jordan?

Find out at The New Authors' Fellowship.

Just so you know, I'm not the only author to post there. Feel free to stop by daily and see what's up.

The Gathering Storm by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson

The book began like any other Wheel of Time book. A prologue with characters I may or may not know - a quick update on who is where before the story begins in earnest.
No clue is given at these times of which characters will be visible through the course of the book. With so many, the choices are endless, much like a soap opera.
Ah, but there's Rand, my shepherd boy. A boy no longer, but a man. A king, hunted and haunted and struggling to unify the known world before Tarmon Gaidon, The Last Battle.
What is this? It is Rand. All of him (except the hand he lost in the last book). I know him.
And there's Min, and Nynaeve, and Aveindha, and Cadsuane. Perrin and Faile. Mat and Talmanes and Tuon and ugly little Olver. Siuan and Gareth Bryne and Gawyn. They're all here! They survived!
Brandon Sanderson has done it. He's breathed life into people I feared dead with their creator. But, no, the young upstart has jumped into the gap with the determination of a Malkieri, the stubborness of a Stone Dog Aiel, and the creativity of an Aes Sedai working around the Three Oaths.
Yes, I saw the occasional stumble. Too many "agains" in the same sentence. An abundance of "nows" on occasion. The use of the word "watery" three times to describe blue eyes. Jordan wouldn't have done that.
But out of 760 pages, that's it? That's my gripe? Pretty small.
There was a chapter with Gawyn that didn't quite feel right, too emphatic, perhaps, but Gawyn isn't quite as established as many of the others, so Sanderson may have him and mold him.
When the Seanchan attacked Tar Valon, I couldn't see for the tears. Very annoying, by the way. How can you find out if everyone is okay when you can't see to read?
When Semirhage confronted Rand -again- I held my breath. Who would win?
When Rand attacked his own... Well, perhaps that little surprise is best held back. I will say, I also cursed Cadsuane for her meddling.
Towers of Midnight, the second to the last book is out. I can only hope we will discover how a pregnant Queen Elayne is coping, whether Moiraine survived her fall into the ter'angreal oh-so-many books ago, what new tricks the Aelfinn and Eelfinn have up their sleeves and the fate of al'Lan Mandragoran.
Of course, I will be searching for news of Rand, my tortured Dragon Reborn.
Thanks to Brandon Sanderson, I will know what happens to my boy. For his stunning success in taking up the challenge, I give The Gathering Storm my elusive 5 buttercups. I have never been so pleased to be so upset.
The Light protect you, Mr. Sanderson. You have ji to us, but we have toh to you.

The Gathering Storm by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson

I intended to read it last year when I got it for Christmas. I didn't.

I was afraid.

I started reading The Wheel of Time series sometime in the late 1990's, perhaps 1997. I fell in love with Rand al'Thor immediately. He's exactly my kind of guy: tall, red-blond hair, hazel blue eyes and the fate of the world on his shoulders. Oh, I like Mat and Perrin, too, and the womenfolk, Egwene and Nynaeve. But my heart belongs to Rand.

I've followed Rand through 12 books. I've waded through seemingly senseless (and endless) chapters about other characters who don't hold my heart, because I know they will be important to Rand. I started late enough to read the first books within the same year, but early enough I've had to wait for installments to emerge.

When Robert Jordan (whose real name is James Oliver Rigney, Jr. according to Wikipedia) died in 2007, I was devastated. Alas, not for his family so much, although my heart bleeds for them. From all I've read, he was as great a man as he was an author.

But what about his other family? What about Rand? What about the Third Age? Who would fight and die at Tarmon Gaidon? Rand al'Thor or Lews Therin, the madman in his head?

I thought these questions would never be answered. I've accused Jordan of dying just to escape having to write that last book because he didn't know how he would do it. I was unkind and unfair.

Robert Jordan cared about Rand more than I did. He passed the pen to another writer.

Brandon Sanderson.

The fear remained. 

Yes, a successor was chosen, but was it because the lad was worthy or because Jordan was desperate? 

Could he do it? Could he continue Rand's story in a believable way? Would I care about Rand as written by this upstart newcomer? Would the differences be too distinct for me to care?

Remember, I've read this story for 14 years, 12 books and almost 4 million words. I know these people. I've laughed with them, cried with them, bled with them.

Would I still care about them with a new writer at the helm?

Guess you'll find out tomorrow.

A Survey of...Past Ties

Last one for now. I'm not working on any other books at the moment. 

1. What’s your word count? Aiming for 80K. Don't know if I'll make it or not.Though I recently eavesdropped on a discussion about how it's 100K or nothing for a new writer. I wish someone would put these rules in stone.

2. How long until you finish? At this rate? The end of my life. 

3. If you have finished, how long did it take you?  


4. Do you have an outline? No. This could be the problem. 

5. Do you have a plot?  No. This could be another problem.


6. How many words do you typically write a day? My goal is 600. Haven't been making it lately. 

7. What was your greatest word count in one day? 900+

8. What was your least impressive word count in one day? Today would be "nothing."

9. What inspired you to write? So sad, this answer. The movies Second Sight, Vibes and Jack's Back. Somebody kill me.

10. Does your novel have a theme song? 
In the Morning by Big Head Todd and the Monsters. 


11. Assign each of your major characters a theme song.
Tayra Shah: Return to Me by October Project
T. Gavran: Don't Give Up by Peter Gabriel And this video is a little silly. Try to ignore it. Except for Peter's coat. It's nice.
Kylucka Yolanda Luckfellow: Delaney Talks to Statues.
Alan Smith: If I Knew Just What to Say by Roger Whittaker. You'll have to trust me. I can't find it anywhere.
Kiven Smith: Uncle John's Band by Jimmy Buffett.


12. Which character is most like you? I don't know. Could be part of my problem. Alan, maybe? Possibly Janice, and that thought scares the tar out of me. 

13. Which character would you most likely be friends with? Alan. 

14. Do you have a Gary-Stu or Mary Sue character? No. 

15. Who is your favorite character in your novel? Kiven. 

16. Have your characters ever done something completely unexpected? Not yet. Wish they'd get on it. 

17. Have you based any of your novel directly on personal experiences? Not yet, which could be part of the problem.


18. Do you believe in plot bunnies? Crunchings and munchings. Still don't know what they are. 

19. Is there magic in your novel? No. Maybe that's my problem. 

20. Are any holidays celebrated in your novel? Do birthdays count? 

21. Does anyone die? Haven't decided yet. Oh, wait. Yes.


22. How many cups of coffee/tea have you consumed during your writing experience? Average remains 4 per day.

23. What is the latest you have stayed up writing? This survey? 9 PM. 

24. What is the best line? None, yet. 

25. What is the worst line? So very many.


26. Have you dreamed about your novel or its characters? No. 

27. Does your novel rely heavily on allegory? No.

28. Summarize your novel in under fifteen words. A haunted psychic must put her past to rest. 


29. Do you love all your characters? Don't know them yet. Can't say. 

30. Have you done something sadistic or cruel to your characters specifically to increase your word count? It's coming. 

31. What was the last thing your main character ate? Tayra? A banana. 

32. Describe your main character in three words. Arrogant. Guilt-ridden. Broken. 

33. What would your antagonist dress up as for Halloween? A homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else. 

34. Does anyone in your story go to a place of worship? No. Most of them avoid such places. 

35. How many romantic relationships take place in your novel? If I knew this, I wouldn't be having trouble writing it. 

36. Are there any explosions in your novel? Yes. 

37. Is there an apocalypse in your novel? No. 


38. Does your novel take place in a post-apocalyptic world? No. In fact, this future is better than the one I actually foresee. 

39. Are there zombies, vampires or werewolves in your novel? Only the normal kinds. 

40. Are there witches, wizards or mythological creatures/figures in your novel? Nope. 

41. Is anyone reincarnated? Nope. 

42. Is anyone physically ailed? Seth has a heart murmur. 

43. Is anyone mentally ill? The serial killer, yes. 

44. Does anyone have swine flu? Hasn't been invented yet. 

45. Who has pets in your novel and what are they? I do expect a dog. Doesn't yet have a name. 

46. Are there angels, demons, or any religious references/figures in your novel? No, no and yes. 

47. How about political figures? No famous ones. 

48. Is there incessant drinking? Only in the bar scene. 

49. Are there board games? If so, which ones? Didn't plan on it, but...maybe.

50. Are there any dream sequences? Unfortunately, yes.

51. Is there humor? Not yet. Maybe that's the problem. 

52. Is there tragedy? Only in the writing of it. Maybe that's the problem. 

53. Does anyone have a temper tantrum? Yes. 

54. How many characters end up single at the end of your novel? Not a clue. Maybe that's the problem.


55. Is anyone in your novel adopted? Yes, but not like you think. 

56. Does anyone in your novel wear glasses? Yes. 

57. Has your novel provided insight about your life? Not yet. Maybe that's the problem. 

58. Your personality? How many times can I write "maybe that's the problem?" Let's see, 75 questions...


59. Has your novel inspired anyone? Not even me yet. 


60. How many people have asked to read your novel? Right now, they run the other way. 

61. Have you drawn any of your characters? Yes. 

62. Has anyone drawn your characters for you? No. 

63. Does anyone vomit in your novel? I don't think so. 

64. Does anyone bleed in your novel? Must I reiterate? Everybody bleeds in my novels. Except Janice. And LUCK-I. It doesn't have blood. 

65. Do any of your characters watch TV? Yes. 

66. What size shoe does your main character wear? Tayra? Probably a child's size 4. She's very small.

67. Do any of the characters in your novel use a computer? One of them is a computer. 

68. How would you react if your novel was erased entirely? I'd throw a party with ice cream and cake. 

69. Did you cry at killing off any of your characters? Not yet. 

70. Did you cheer when killing off one of your characters? Not yet. 

71. What advice would you give to a fellow writer? Don't try to base your book off the movies Second Sight, Vibes and Jack's Back. 

72. Describe your ending in three words. Not A Clue. 

73. Are there any love triangles, squares, hexagons, etc.? Maybe. Something may be building. 

74. On a scale of 1-10 (1 being the least stressful, 10 being the most) how does your stress rank? About the book? Heading toward a solid 7.

75. Was it worth it? Not yet. But I'm hopeful.


Well, at least this has shown me where my potential problems are.

A Survey of...Elementals

Thought I'd put this one at The New Author's Fellowship.

Check it out.

A Survey of...Star of Justice

American Family Radio changed its morning program schedule and threw mine off. I'm stumbling around trying to adapt, but turtles aren't known for flexibility.

Plus, I need to head out into the -4 temps and shovel my driveway and car. Have I mentioned I hate winter?

But God is good and provided today's topic through the auspices of one of Crazyhair Vaulter's FB notes. I'm not sure what her purpose was or where this originated, but I liked it and I'm taking it, so there.

Star of Justice
1. What’s your word count? 166,000
2. How long until you finish? Done. 
3. If you have finished, how long did it take you? About 400 hours, conservative estimate.  
4. Did you have an outline? No. 
5. Do you have a plot? Boy, I hope so.
6. How many words do you typically write a day? About 500 words/hour of fresh writing.
7. What was your greatest word count in one day? Not a clue. I didn't keep track of word count while writing this book.
8. What inspired you to write? I had some free time and a curiosity to find out if I was mature enough to finish a book.
9. Does Star of Justice have a theme song? No.
10. Assign each of your major characters a theme song. No.
11. Which character is most like you? Caissa.
12. Which character would you most likely be friends with? Kirk.
13. Who is your favorite character in your novel? Raven.
14. Have your characters ever done something completely unexpected? Yes.
15. Have you based any of your novel directly on personal experiences? The fainting and the puking. Those kind of went hand-in-hand.
16. Is there magic in your novel? Yes.
17. Does anyone die? Anyone? 
18. How many cups of coffee/tea have you consumed during your writing experience? I'm thinking it was mostly hot chocolate during SOJ. The hard part was not eating my way through the book.
19. What is the best line?
"No one's ever wanted to eat me before."
"You don't get out much."
20. Have you dreamed about your novel or its characters? No.

21. Does your novel rely heavily on allegory? No.
22. Summarize your novel in under fifteen words. Caissa doesn't want to die saving the world.
29. Do you love all your characters? Yes.
30. Describe your main character in three words. Self-absorbed, clumsy, and naive. Hyphenated words count, right?
31. How many romantic relationships take place in your novel? At least one.
32. Are there any explosions in your novel? Oddly enough, yes.
33. Are there witches, wizards or mythological creatures/figures in your novel? Not oddly, yes.
34. Is anyone reincarnated? I want to say "no," but that may not be true.
35. Is anyone mentally ill? I want to say "no," but you might call me a liar.
36. Who has pets in your novel and what are they? Jasper has Raven. 
37. Are there angels, demons, or any religious references/figures in your novel? Yes, but not by those names.
38. Are there any dream sequences? Not that I remember.
39. Is there humor? Boy, I hope so.
40. Is there tragedy? Absolutely.
41. Has your novel provided insight about your life? Not until recently.
42. Your personality? Can't be helped. I wrote it.
43. Has your novel inspired anyone? Maybe? Oh, wait, yes. Me!
44, Does anyone vomit in your novel? Caissa throws up more than she sword-fights and she's a knight.
45. Does anyone bleed in your novel? Everybody bleeds in my novel. HAHA!
46. What size shoe does your main character wear? I'd guess 7s. She's got big feet for a little person.
47. How would you react if your novel was erased entirely? I would kill myself, right after killing whoever did it. With a sword. It would not be pretty. 
48. What advice would you give to a fellow writer? Get it down and get it done.
49. Describe your ending in three words. Happy, happy, happy. I like happy endings.
50. Was it worth it? Totally.

I'll survey another book tomorrow. Now into the snow I go!

Killing Bill

I admit it. I've watched Kill Bill, vol 1 and 2. I like Vol 1 better because Vol 2 gets a little True Lies toward the end, and I'm all about the fight scenes. And the soundtrack. Yes, I like sword fights staged to music.

TT: The fight scenes are the only things I watch. The rest of the movie is fairly disturbing. Quinton Tarantino disturbing? Say it ain't so! 

Anyway, Kiddo gets some great advice at the end of Vol 1. When seeking revenge, a warrior is given a "pass" on secondary carnage she wreaks in achieving her goal. However, it is easy to lose sight of the goal when obstacles (like innocent people) get in your way. So Hattori Hanso the sword maker advises her to set goals as a reminder. This leads to The List (the one ending with 5. Kill Bill) and directs her steps for the movies.

I like lists, but I'm not a big believer in resolutions. I figure if it's that important, why wait until the New Year to start, right?

Once again, I'm looking at it wrong. I usually am.

I laughed at Ren Black's highly detailed resolutions for the year, but she's got the right of it. If I don't set some goals, once again I'll spend the year wandering around, missing opportunities and getting side-tracked.

The scary part, the part I want to avoid, is the accountability. Once I write it down, I'm committed. The only time I ever made resolutions (I made three of them), I achieved all three within 6 months. That's powerful, and I wanted nothing more to do with it.

Wrong again.

I'm not listing my goals here. Not yet.

I need to think about them. Consider where I'm serious and where I'm fooling myself and go from there. But I will resolve a few things this year. It feels grown-up to do so.

Hope all my readers are careful today as they plow their way to work and whatnot. Be safe.

Shocking

Check out this stunning post at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Okay, that was a little cheesy, even for me.

Mmmm. Cheesy.

Strangers

The trouble with writing a book inspired by the movies Second Sight, Vibes and Jack's Back (if you're familiar with those movies, you're probably thinking "whu-huh?") when you're 20 years old and filling time between yogurt runs is you don't have the necessary background work for a character-driven plot.

That's my newest excuse.

I've been ignoring it a for a little while, but I don't know these characters. I know their physical descriptions (except for the twins Alan and Kiven who may or may not be identical - never decided).
This isn't a problem for plot-driven writers. I'm not one of those. For me, it's the people and their problems.

TT: A deeply ironic fact, considering I didn't like people until college.

I'm a third of the way through the original wordcount. I'm staring at my cursor thinking, "I could scrap the remaining original storyline and probably be fine."

But then what?

Petrov would remain. Do I want him? He's evolving from a hulk in the background to a person, so he could come, but what does he bring to the table?

McLellan has turned much whinier than originally written. He's a family man under stress, so I suppose that's possible.

I have some guy named Jake hanging around. Where'd he come from?

Worse, Gavran lacks depth. I'm not saying he's the deepest guy on the planet, but I don't know what motivates him. That can't continue. He's a viewpoint character, for goodness sake!

Tonight, I will sit down with paper and dice and work it out. They're all getting backgrounds. I don't have the old background book anymore, so I don't technically need the dice, but I miss playing with them.

The one upside is LUCK-I is emerging through the eyes of the other characters. That's unexpected and hopeful. If a machine can become a real person to me, all these other folks should fall into line.

Maybe if I watched the movies again...

Did I Say That?

I don't swear.

Let me qualify. I don't swear like most people.

Startle me enough and you'll get the number one verbal response of Protestant Americans, yes. It seems to be hard-wired into my system. But on most days, you'll get "for the love of Mike," "shut the front door (thanks for that one, WGR)," or "son of a buck-naked tavern wench." For minor expletives, you might hear "uff da (that one's real and I've had to apologize to a few Minnesotans)," "frell" or, on exceptionally bad days, "George."

As you see, I don't swear like most people.

I don't like when other people swear, either. Not that I run at folks with a cricket bat and a bar of soap, but I don't use that kind of language myself, and I'd prefer not to be assaulted with it in the Walmart shopping aisle. Not from an immodestly dressed 12 year old or her immodestly dressed mother and runny-nosed 4 year old sibling.

One of the hallmarks of a declining culture is increasing vulgarity. Not on my watch, people.

But some of the characters in Past Ties are developing potty mouths. Not severe. Certainly not as bad as those Walmart aisles, but more than I use.

This is the point where some authors would say, "That's real. People talk like that. Go for it." Others would say, "You can find a way around it if you're creative enough. No need to use the real words."
I'm generally more of the latter kind of writer. I make up swear words for my characters. Easy to do when you mostly write fantasy.

I thought I'd gotten around this problem by creating the "New Clean Air Act of 2070." After the EPA is dismantled (my future, remember? I can do what I want), Congress passes a no-public-vulgarity statute. Not as restrictive as the one from Demolition Man, but the idea being after the Revival of 2064, most people don't want to hear it or say it.

People continue to swear, of course. As long as we can be startled, there will be a place for potty mouths. However, for the most part, public swearing falls by the wayside for the next 50 years. What a fabulous time to be alive, eh?

I suspect during revisions, the language will come out. For now, though, it seems to be part of the process. I'll deal with it, I guess.

I don't frelling have a choice, do I? Uff da!

And What Do I Get Instead of Thanks?

Threats. -Malik, Conan the Destroyer.

I tried permissive parenting. Nothing. I tried cooperative parenting. Nada. I threaten exile, and bam! the story starts to come together.

Not 24 hours after setting a timeline for pulling the plug, the story started to unfold. I wrote about 3K words this weekend. Not great, but more than I've been writing. I'm not going to complain.

I also seem to get inspired later than usual for me. After 7 or 8 PM later. The problem with that is I'm not winding down on time for bed. I stop typing but the story keeps going. Last night, my bed was milk, and I was the butter churn. The cats had to leave because I kept kicking them.

TT: I suppose that could be a result of the 6 extra hours of napping I did Sunday, but how likely is that? 

It also occurred to me I have decided to combine Past Ties and Present Tense into one book, and the original Past Ties will be the shorter part. A sort of extra long prologue.

It does free up the title Present Tense, which may take over from Dangling Participles, which seems to confuse more people than it amuses.

This would make my crossover book into the world of Ah'rahk book 2 of the Past Ties series instead of book 4. I can live with that.

My story children will be the death of me.