Thursday, November 29, 2007


Feel odd, not "Yeah!!!" at this moment.
I know this is because I am not finished writing the story, and I am worried about how my progress will and wont go forth from this point on.

I am wondering if I should type the numbers in on NaNo, part of me wants to wait, and add more words tomorrow before I put in my final word count. Can you keep adding numbers, after it turns solid? And another part of me says "hey you just reached this goal you have been after all month, let yourself feel that now".

I am so worried I wont keep going ahead, that I will get frozen here.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

ut oh,
after 5:30 PM and I haven't even started writing for today!
Bob had off and we did some x-mas shopping and ran errands.

9:46 PM
48,120 (odd same hundred number as yesterday, 120)
para orders and sequences will need to be re-worked.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Updated at 9:22 PM to 46,120

only at 44,435 so far, keep working stuff into, and around in, yesterday's work, rather than moving ahead.

I realize what is wrong with the feeling of the work, that strained feeling rather than joy. Because I am not fully scening, seeing. Rather I am moving forward in narrow views, trying to get words ahead.

A few minutes ago, I added the words, bee-eater, and jacamar, into something I wrote yesterday and was surprised by how happy, these, shouldn't be there anyway but are, bird words made me.
I am not going to change how I am working, I am putting one word down then the next trying to move ahead,
but I am going to go back after I do get to the ending, and dream into it more. Have it come more fully alive, and play in it.
And then I am going to go back in a third time, and cut things down, and chop extra stuff away.

But I am not living in it now, fully immersed and swimming deep, in all this vibrant stuff.
No I act like I am walking a tightrope, and just trying to move quickly across some scary abyss.

remember Tiffany, standing in a garden filled with all the stuff you like best, standing in a story filled with all the things you like best. Drop your fear off here. Toss all that stuff down, come, come dream with me...

I want to hear it pitch and hum :)

I've forgotten why I am here, why I am walking this path, one is of course a desire to be a writer, but that is only one of the reasons for telling myself this story.

Updated to- today's writing didn't go any faster, but after giving myself this little talk I was more relaxed, it felt more like walking through something and really trying to see and observe, where as yesterday it had felt like I was battling some beast.

Monday, November 26, 2007

up to 44,052. I'll keep tally here. I don't intend to do a new blog post till I am done.
Horrible horrible writing day, much swearing and glaring at inanimate objects, fighting, struggling with words.
(odd, and not ideal, as I was supposed to be writing very spiritual, uplifting parts)
My payback, cat is sitting 6 inches from me, staring at me and glaring with his ears back. Why? Because I wont let him chew on my ipod headphones I suppose. Or just because I deserve it, for being mean and cranky in spirit for the 1/2 hours.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

The top 10 reasons why my NaNoWriMo Novel doesn't suck

or wont completely suck, when I am done.

1. It’s mine. Like one’s own children, I just have to like it. Like one’s own family, I may talk bad about it, but if you do, I will punch you in the nose. Like all the rest of my stuff, new and shiny, or old and worn, it is mine. Not yours, mine! Therefore it doesn’t suck. It is full of my dreams, sweat, glaring mistakes, and glimmers of hope. I will always have this, I wrote a novel. Good or bad. Published or in a shoe box in the closet. I wrote a novel.

2. For once in my life, I am saying it is okay to start at the beginning. It is okay to not know what the heck I am doing, and instead of using that as a reason for stopping, just keep going. To believe I will learn things along the way, I will learn from this process, rather than my usual if I don’t know what I am doing, I shouldn’t be doing it at all. (read as, embracing the inevitability of suckiness, doesn't suck)
A great thing about NaNo is I can’t even sit around wallowing in my own ignorance, harassing myself over my own stupidity, because in order to keep up with the daily word count, I just don’t have the time.

3. For once I am saying “yes”, or at least I am saying “maybe”, to a dream. A dream I have held for years, always may be, but lacked the guts, and the resolve to pursue. For once, instead of saying I have to wait, till I am smarter, prettier, clever, can spell, develop some supernatural talent, am struck by lightening or by God, till I am better in every way than I am today, instead of waiting to be good enough, I am saying yes to the person I am today, I am saying come as you are and go for it. Insecure full of doubt, I keep going. Afraid, nervous, I keep going. It doesn’t suck to face one’s fears, and to choose to believe that something is possible. For once.

4. For once I am saying “no". No to those around me, who keep asking for my time, and looking pitiful and whining, and asking me to do stuff for them. I am saying no to them for this month (not always, but a lot more than I usually would), and I am saying I am doing this NaNo thing, and it is important to me, I have a word count I "must” keep up with, “I can’t” do this that or the other thing right now, and you are just going to have to understand that.

5. My NaNoWriMo novel knows stuff about me that no one else does. (stuff I wouldn’t go around telling people at parties, but stuff it is worthwhile for me to know). It knows both emotional, spiritual types of things, and more basic writerly ones, like I use the same words over and over again. (very loyal I am)

6. No matter how bad it may be, at the end, I will have a place to start. I will have a framework for a true beginning.

7. I will never read a book the same way again. Now having faced writing issues, of trying to work descriptions into a scene without interrupting story flow, having attempted transitions from one part to the next, and flashbacks, and working with the concept of time, all these things I don’t know how to do, but was never forced through before in my writing because I just did the pieces I did know and didn’t connect them, well now having tried and blundered through them, now I will pay more attention to how someone else has handled these things, and I will learn from them, in a way I couldn’t have before. (even little things, like when to stop using commas and start a new sentence)

8. My NaNoWriMo novel is a perfect snapshot of me right now, where I am, how I am, and also by it’s mere existence, of where and how I want to be.

9. I am on the verge of no longer being a novel writing virgin. This will be the first time I have gone all the way. And like having sex for the first time, there has been fumbling with buttons and clasps, wondering “does my hand go here or there?”, and “Is this supposed to feel like this?”. I had high hopes and expectations, but in some ways I am just trying to get through it. I know it wont be my best, but I will always remember it. And later with time and practice, as I do it again and again, I will develop more skills, and know what works for me and what doesn’t. And sharing this experience with others has been great, having Paul say “Hey I just got to first base” while I was still trying to work up the nerve to get out on the field, really helped push me along. I don’t want the rest of you NaNoWriMo-ers sliding into home without me!

10. Repeat. My NaNo novel doesn’t suck because: 1. It is mine. 2. I am facing my fears. 3. I am saying yes to a dream. 4. I am saying no to my family. 5. I am learning stuff about myself, as a person and as a writer. 6. It is a complete first draft, and therefore a good place to start. 7. Having faced writing challenges I can now better appreciate and see how talented writers handle these same issues in their work. 8. In the future I can look back at this novel, and it will reveal to me who I am today, in this moment. 9. Having the first time behind me now, it will be easier to do it again. 10. Repeat. I will repeat. I will go through this process again and again, till I get to an “end” and look back, and find I have a beginning, middle and end, that are good. Or at least that don’t suck.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

30,081. (and just barely)
10:21 PM, not a super day, a stressful past 24 hours, mostly I am just glad today is over. I am looking forward to sleeping. Hopefully I can settle my mind, and nestle in warm blankets, and be peacefully lost to dreams.
And we will all wake up tomorrow and enter a day with less stress in it.

I wish my first reactions were always the right ones, but often they aren't, and I have to come around to where I was supposed to be. I do usually get there, but regret the time it takes me to arrive.
ipod poem E

Early in the morning
earthquake weather
easy to fall

Monday, November 19, 2007

slow going tonight, just crawling along. I got stuck down the research path. They only have chipmunks (siberian) in Hokkaido (to tired/lazy to look up spelling, should just say northern Japan). So I had to find a replacement creature. Went back and forth for awhile, asked Cheese his opinion, but in the end dwarf flying squirrels are nocturnal, so I used red instead.

I wrote really clunky transitions. And am very unclear on...a lot.

more snow

and more snow, it just keeps snowing.
Everywhere I look, parts of trees are down.

Cheese had a two hour delay today. Tomorrow and the next day are half days of school, followed by 5 days off. It will be a rough writing week.

Lat night, I sent my half brother an email saying we couldn't get together. I hope that goes over okay. (I mention that he is my half brother, because, we are different sets, raised in different times, in different households, very differently).

Ipod poem. I

I feel the earth move
I get lifted
I just want to dance with you
I love you always forever
I love you so much it hurts
I saw the light
I see the moon
I sing I swim
I wanna be with you
I wanna be your lover
I wanna fall in love

I want you
I was made to love you

(The break is one song I did delete. Which is, as long as there is a break, okay by my ipod poem rules. It is about finding the poems that are already there, not creating them. The missing song, I want to be your man. Would have worked fine, if I was a man)

Sunday, November 18, 2007

9PM - 26,800

half way through NaNoWriMo, and I'm half way through tonight's 2,000 words. I haven't gone on farther in the story, was reading over it, tucking little bits in here and there. Now I have to go back to it, and go on. Yep, that is what I have to do, uh huh, right now....go.
(several minutes pass while I stare off into space, thinking about how I am not sure how to start the next part)

it is snowing

I woke up to this

and it just keeps going.

sadly my mind is still sleeping, perhaps I will come back later, and put some words here.

I am not sleeping well. My half brother keeps calling, he wants to know where he can put us on his visiting schedule. He is a great guy who I care a lot about, however, I have been told by other family members (who are closer to him and know him better) not to have him over to my house, and to not even meet with him for lunch (suggesting my safety would be at risk). He has been recently diagnosed with schizophrenia ( I forget the exact version of it), and he has disorganized thinking, and is prone to anger, believing things that aren't true, et cetera, so one can't be sure what will happen minute to minute with him.

I was vague with him on the phone earlier this week, as I was surprised to realize he does not sound like himself, his inflections, his phrasing, sound different. And I was unclear at times what he was saying, and he got stuck in verbal, or idea, loops. Before this conversation I really didn't want to believe that anything was truly amiss. But he is, part of him is missing, and unless he agrees to go on meds (which he doesn't) I don't know if we will ever find him again.

Anyway he keeps calling, and I haven't been answering, which makes me feel really bad. He has always been so sweet (smart, friendly, outgoing), and he left a message yesterday saying how much he appreciates us. I do want to answer the phone and talk to him. The problem is how do I tell my brother, "no I can't meet with you. No you can't come visit" ? I'm fairly certain that telling him the truth, which is his mental illness is out of the question (would make him very very angry. Both with me and with the family members who he would know told me this). And I am really bad at making stuff up, and at being evasive to direct questions. I mean I have to find a way of saying, " I don't have any time for you, none at all, in the next month or two, no not even enough to meet you for lunch for an hour.". It sounds so cold, and of course untrue, how could anyone not spare an hour to meet with a family member over the course of a two month period? (unless they were gone away for two months, "Oh, I am so sorry going to Italy for the next two months. What? Oh, taking son out of school to go with. What? Oh, um er no, I don't think I can take you along")

Saturday, November 17, 2007

24,374 but didn't bother fixing any problems, just went on, and added more of my I and he mix up stuff, but I am just about at the end of the flashbacks, only one more to go.

ipod poem clo-co

Close to you
clouds through sparrows eyes
come and get your love
come in from the cold
come to me
come, sing me a song
could it be I'm falling in love
could it be magic

Friday, November 16, 2007

22,605. But at least 600 of it needs to be tossed out the window. I was just dumping words in, not properly sorting through, or seeing clearly. I am starting to sort through it now, but should go to bed instead, so hopefully I will do that tomorrow. I think I need to before I go forward. Need to be clearly here, before I step forward. It is rather lazy on my part, to just put in all the bits and pieces I see, and not thread them together, but dump and pile them atop each other instead.

climb every mountain

Lyrics: Rodgers And Hammerstein - Climb Every Mountain lyrics from The Sound of Music

Climb every mountain
Search high and low
Follow every byway
Every path you know

Climb every mountain
Ford every stream
Follow every rainbow
Till you find your dream

A dream that will need
All the love you can give
Every day of your life
For as long as you live

Climb every mountain
Ford every stream
Follow every rainbow
Till you find your dream

A dream that will need
All the love you can give
Every day of your life
For as long as you live

Climb every mountain
Ford every stream
Follow every rainbow
Till you find your dream

I find the lines- a dream that will need, all the love you can give, every day of your life, for as long as you live.
Interesting. I am thinking about my dream, thinking about NaNoWriMo, and my son.
It is true, our dreams, need all the love we can give, all this time and energy, a dream is work.
Worthy work.

by the bye,
Yes I did 'doctor' the first photo, till it looked and felt the way it did when I snapped the photo.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

No, it is not Thursday already, I shall have none of this Thursday nonsense!

7:54 PM now. up to 20,195 words. But there are more serious flaws with this last set. Whole scenes may need to be re-arranged. And I left my narrator behind in a looong flashback, I have mixed feelings about that, because I could certainly bring him back in as observer, but then I lose the sense of being lost in time, of truly being back in that time.
An even more pressing problem is that I went back and forth between I and he, all willy nilly in the flashback, as we watched the main character do some things, and we were him while he did some others.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

and Wednesday

reached 16,014 mark. But I admit, I wrote one paragraph twice, as I am not sure which way is better.

I feel weird. Different family issues weigh on me tonight, not about those I live with.
And I wrote the dying scene in the story. The most upsetting one (the one that rips the life of the main character apart), and yet it contains my favorite line of the story. Like the flower it contains, distilled down to its essence, its scent, it distills to being the whole of the story. The meaning of it. But we don't come close to breathing it in, capturing, smelling, knowing it, until much later in the story.

I find the scene to be whimsical and sad. One moment I think I am being too high and twinkling, saying words and ideas to amuse the child within me, both too tender and too glittery, to be palatable to those not accustomed to consuming sugared hearts tucked inside candy flowers. But then I find all my gossamer wings are not enough for such a heavy heart to fly, laden as it is with loss and sadness.
And the mix in the scene leaves me feeling strange. Reflective, uncertain, hopefull, sad.

It is a wonderful dream, a beautiful dream, but our comrades will fall along the way. And nothing will return the loss of them to us. But we go on, amazed by the sheer beauty of light, the dazzling wonder, as we sear with joy and pain. Each one of us, a seam ripped of us, of a thread that can't be found, yet everywhere other gifts abound.

the laughter and the bleeding knee

and I think of that dream I had once, years ago, in the tones of a faded photograph, going through the door of an unknown house, entering the living room, which is filled with people. They aren't solid but not truly ghosts either, rather a mix of memories and of those which are yet to be. I stand there in the middle and then dance with them, the young and the old, the women and the men, bodies weaving in and out of others, interwoven circles. Part of me was scared the way I always am with strangers, but I also felt this joy, in being with them, being part of them, as I danced with the past and the future.
And there seemed to be this joy they too had with me, somehow connected, familiar, somehow a family, across time.

come. come dance with me across time.

added, Wednesday morning

Come. Come, dance with me across time
your family and mine
in never ending line
interwoven, apart and entwine
over and under, the moving vine
dancing together
across time

D.A.N.C.E -parts of the song by Justice
"Do the DANCE
the way you move is a mystery
Do the DANCE
you're always there for music and me
Do the DANCE ( do the dance)....

Under the spotlights
neither black nor white
it doesn't matter
Do the DANCE (do the dance)
as strong as you might
working day and night
whatever happens
Do the DANCE ( do the dance)..."

whatever happens- Do the DANCE (do the dance)

by the bye,
reached 18,091 words today

ipod poem

The bells

The book of love
The game of love

The more I see you
The music of the night
The path of the wind

The story of my life
I didn't sleep well last night, 4 hours maybe, I was tense from the writing and felt bad about how I had acted,
I talked to my son today about my crankiness yesterday. I sad I was sorry. I had said that to him yesterday too, while I was being cranky, and begging him to just let me work on my writing.

It is hard for me to give them the attention they desire, husband, son, sometimes even the cat. It is a struggle for me. They can seem like buckets with holes in them, no matter how much I think I am putting in, they never seem to get full.
I don't need that level of attention, of interaction. I have never had it. I desire more quiet and space. It is partly how I naturally am, and partly how I had to be. I tend to find this need of theirs confusing. I love spending time with Cheese, but I also need to work on my own projects, and have space, and time, and quiet. And at times I find it hard to work out, giving myself what I need, and making sure they feel loved and cared for.

Monday, November 12, 2007

seriously going nuts, fighting with time. 6PM, writing done? NO! 2 1/2 hours have gone by, while I am struggling with my timeline, going through boards and notes, and I can't find my notes on something I need and will have to re-look it up. AND this something needs to happen before I think it can.

nasty nasty mood, carrying on, and Cheese brings in piece after piece of Halloween candy asking me to check its wrapper, then minutes later brings it back and asks me to look at the candy, then shoves it in my face, and makes me smell It ( I keep telling him this isn't wise unless he intends for me to eat it). Half the time, he then decides he doesn't even want that piece, "wrong flavor", "it looks funny". I just, basically yelled, "Why do you keep doing this, you can tell I am all hostile, when you hear a roaring tiger, see it clawing away at the air, why oh why would you come in and try and pet it! It's gonna bite you!". He just laughed and said "So you think this Hershey bar smells okay to eat?". "YYYYYEEEESSSSS!!!!".

Okay hippity hoppity off I go to google.

7:11 PM-Child is now very clearly tormenting me for his own amusement. Pulling tiger's tail and making funny sounds.
For story- I'll have to skip over stuff I can't figure out, and write other parts, stressing out, losing mind.

10:18 PM
I am done. My sanity came back to me as soon as I stopped worrying and started typing. (And when Cheese started watching a special Spongebob mini-movie at 8 o'clock). I am surprised that I didn't end up skipping over any parts. I think once I fall apart and tell myself I can skip what I can't work out, then I just go on ahead and end up doing those parts as I go along. I reached my goal of the day. I now have 14,135 words. Honestly at 7pm I didn't think there was any way I was going to make it.
I will still have some timing issues to work out on later parts. But I know what I am doing tomorrow, so there should be no stress fest. Goodness but I was really coming unraveled.
My problem, basically the garden is like another character in the story and making sure of the timing of plantings and blooming, and coordinating it with the day to day activites of main character, and needing those things to have relevance and be in order with some flash back stuff, is what is pushing me round the bend.
so now it is 10:34, I am tired, it is time to go to bed, and I can go to bed since I am done (done with the wash too), but I am not feeling peaceful. I am not fully unwound from the tight ball of knots I managed to work myself in to. And I think I better make sure I have a back-up copy of the writing, it may not be good, but at leat it is something, and if I lose my only copy of this something, not to even imagine that.

goes by in a blur

Time. This weekend.
Between the pre-writing procrastination, -doing the actual writing,- wandering about the kitchen looking for something decent to eat,- the cat bugging me, and my bugging the cat,- Cheese researching auras on the internet, staring at me, and talking about it,-and the necessity of some domesticity, I feel the weekend wasn't. I know it used to be Friday, and now it is Monday, but I didn't feel any Saturday or Sunday. And the week will march on in much the same way. I have never before spent so much time, so many days in a row, working on trying to write something, the process, the thoughts seem to be filling all my days, whether I am writing at any given moment or not. I have never watched so little television. I have never spent so much time with the cat. I thought of Thanksgiving yesterday in terms of the writing I need to get done that day, and would I come home and do it after the family gathering, or should I try to do it in the morning, or should I take the day off, and split the word count between the day before it and the day after? Strange for me, but good I think, as it gives me focus and direction, forward momentum, something I am naturally lacking in.

I am off to go blog visiting. Do several loads of wash. See if I can find some info on mute swans attacking people, and then onto the tic tap tapping of typing keys.

Oh but first how about a music list ipod poem
scrolling down to S

So far away
so into you
so nice
somebody loves you

summer breeze
sunday morning
sweet baby
sweet seasons
sweet surrender
sweet thing
symptoms of true love

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Another writing day

another day of battling this creature for sofa space.

You, like Bob, may think I should work at a desk, you, like him, are wrong.
The sofa is bigger and more comfortable. I have piles of stuff strewn about everywhere, all over it, and all over the floor. I take them upstairs with me every night. (I do admit that part is a pain). And then bring my piles back down, and set them up in the morning. The outlets are right behind the sofa, for my computer, ipod, and three lights ( at night). And I can't think right while sitting up straight, my body isn't used to it, and gets confused.

I stopped writing in the middle of a scene yesterday, which is not something I usually do, but the good part of it is I wont have to sit there wondering how to start today, wondering what happens next, I can simply follow along with where I was.

If I intend to keep up with the NaNoWriMo-ers, I will need to write 2,000 words a day (unless my math is bad, and I am wrong). Ideally I would have some days of more writing and some of less, depending on the actual energy of the writing. But as I always seem behind, I think I best just push on, regardless of the actual energy of the writing.

I am starting to think, I may actually do this, I may actually keep going, and write the thing, beginning to end. My hope scares me, I would hate to dash it, crash it, to bits. To feel so disappointed in myself once again. To go back to, it will never happen, I just can't do it, I can't do it, to live in those thoughts once again. It wouldn't even matter how badly the writing sucked, if I could actually accomplish this, if I could have a real start, a solid thing, I could really go back to, and rework, and try over time to make good. That would be so amazing.

Notes to self-
First. Try starting your actual writing much earlier today, rather than procrastinating the first half of it away.
Second. Stop using the word actually.

6:53 PM update, up to 11, 487 words, and..BAD BAD BAD KITTY! I got up to get Cheese a book, and when I sat back down, I noticed some creature had chewed on my ipod speaker buds, teeth marks, holes in the cushy part. Cat is of course no longer on sofa, as if to deny, by his absence, that he could have done it.
8:46 PM- 12,516

Saturday, November 10, 2007

9,202 words. Very hard not to eat chocolate. Each uncertain step I take, I think, "Isn't there chocolate in the house? I could go for some chocolate." And I say "Yes there is. But you are not hungry, you are nervous, anxious, tense. Chocolate will not help you as much as will getting through the next sentence".
"How about a butterscotch lollipop then?"

"and all of the things that I said that I wanted come rushing by in my head when I am with you, fourteen joys and a will to be merry, all of the things.....
....sentimental gentle wind flowing through me life again...
sentimental lady" pieces of Sentimental Lady- by Bob Welch

well at least I've got the ipod on.

cat is taking a way too thorough bath right next to me.

"from all the boys the one I take home is music..from all the ladies the one I kiss is music...
music is my boyfriend,
music is my girlfriend, is my dead end, music is my imaginary friend...
from all the drinks I get drunk of music......
Music is my king size bed..
music is my hot hot bath
music is my hot hot sex
music is my back rub...." - pieces of-Music is my Hot Hot Sex- by CSS

" this getting you any closer to your 10,000 word goal for tonight?"
" But it has less calories than chocolate does."
"Get back to work!!!"
"Okay!!! But first I have to go set up the tape to tape Naruto."
Oh I forgot, I think Choji dies in this episode, I can't bear to watch it.

"Go write! You are like a black cat hiding in white snow. I can so see you"

Ugh, 9,627, my eyes hurt, my head hurts. I want to go to bed, but I wanted to hit 10,000 first. But I have been "spending" time looking for this one bit, I already wrote up, but can't find. I took notes when I was doing this activity so I could describe it well. I have gone through all my typed notes, am still going through all my notebooks. I've found other stuff, but not this part.

Went through everything, couldn't find it, so just re-wrote the part, and as soon as I had, I found it, (on one of my boards, right next to me on the sofa. AAAHHH!!!. But at least I found it. So anyway I typed that in too, so I admit it is a bit of a repeat, but anyway just by a few sentences. I am at 1,100 and going to bed.

trying to get it write

Woke up thinking about the story. I am working on it enough now, that it has started following me around, while I do other things. So I have to scribble ideas down, in a mental emotional shorthand, till I can get to my computer and put them in.

The story is a bit crazier than I had imagined. I knew certain sorts of things happened in it, but now as I put them together stacking one atop the next, I am starting to feel the cumulative effect. And the new parts that are coming and being added in, well they only add to that feeling of "oh my this is a long bit of odd". (I just smiled. Long bit of odd, made me think of the story of OZ (Wizard of Oz) what an odd strange wonderful story that is). I am good with going forward, to stacking it all and figuring it out later. I am concerned that the echoes in Echo seem to be multiplying like rabbits, especially since I have no bunny birth control, but I will just have to leave them go for now, having faith that I will figure out how to cut down on my echobunny population later.

I have something to tell myself, something to say through this medium, through pen and paper. No matter how odd, crazy the story, no matter how words, and ideas repeat, I know I must go to it, not keep stopping, not keep judging and questioning, but just keep going through it, beginning to end. I know I must, sit still and listen.
For it is always telling me so,
always saying...
sit still and listen.

December 8th is coming

I can feel it as it stealthily approaches
I know it is hunting me
I know it is haunting me

1 year.
The one year anniversary of your death.
And I see you everywhere.
And I don't believe you are dead.
It's impossible that such a thing could be true.
Dear sweet cousin.
15, this year, you would have turned 15

I will be at a family reunion, for my fathers side.
December 8th.
I will be at a Christmas party
while your body lies buried in the ground.

I wanted you to read this crazy story I am trying to write.
Selfish I know, to think of that now, when there is so much stuff, so much life you didn't get to have.
But I wanted, needed your help. I trusted you to read it
(I still do, if you wish to peer over my shoulder)
Knowing you would be incredibly kind but also perfectly honest.
That you would tell me simply, what doesn't work
but also I hoped, you would know and feel, what it was I was trying to say.

I miss you.
I miss the days when we all went trick or treating, and spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter together.
I think of your sisters, your mom and dad. I would miss you enough if it was just that you weren't here with me, but knowing you aren't there with them either. That they sit before a holiday table with an empty chair.
Well I hope you don't mind, but I find I can not think of it, to think of it is too much to bear.
You are not here, and your aren't there, but you must be somewhere. For it is not all of you that is in the ground. Does that life, that spark become nothing? Or does it just leave one home, to go find another? I do not know what I logically believe, but I must believe in heaven, I have no choice. It is hard enough to try and accept that you will never be here with us again, but to think of you as no longer being, not existing anywhere (but in our hearts), that is something that I can't believe . I can't believe that and still be able to breathe.
So while I pretend that I am not thinking of you, while I pretend that you are not dead, I sit here and grieve.

Friday, November 9, 2007

udated to- 8,106
6,596 words. Which makes me about half as far along as I should be, and behind most everybody else (Sognatrice and Hooch have appallingly large numbers) (But Matthew R has been keeping me company in the lower numbers as of the last time I checked.) (Mr. Topples is being confusing, he was behind us, but now has switched over to working on another piece, which already has 25,000 words.)

Cheese and Taffy

(draft post from Oct. 24)
Sometimes when Bob is driving, pleasant day, windows rolled down, Cheese and I will catch each other's eye in the side mirror, and then one of us will make a face at the other, and the other will make a face back. So for a time, we will shoot silly faces back and forth, till I realize that while Cheese is tucked in the back seat and not very visible, I am perhaps visible to those whose homes and cars we are passing by, and to them, I would look like some crazy person making psycho faces at them for goodness knows why, so when I realize/remember this I stop. Till the next time we are out and about and I forget and we do it again.


I would like to assert that I am a person who does not swear. And likewise, or oppositewise, Cheese would like to assert that I am a person who does swear. Let's go back in time, to let's say about this day last week. I am driving Cheese to school, and get stuck behind a car moving very very sloooowly. I start saying stuff, not swearing just unpleasantness, but then I switch over to talking about how it isn't this other person's fault, I am responsible for leaving my house in enough time to get there on time. I go on to say it isn't nice or good to carry on so, or talk bad about other drivers, and then Cheese says "or swear". and I say "well of course we wouldn't swear at them. It isn't good to swear, we don't swear". He looks incredulous, "You do all the time!". me-" I do not!". C-" Everyday!". me-" no way.". C- "You do too". me-" I do not. I can not believe you would say such things about your own mother, your mother does not swear, swearing is unlady like, so your mother would not do it. your mother does not swear!" Cheese says matter of factly "well then you must not be my mother.". Oh the twinkle in his eyes. I think my mouth dropped open. I couldn't believe he would say that. (and to his very own mother!)

Anyway since that day, he has been counting how often I swear, he even catagorizes them as, 2 intentional, 2 non-intentional swears. Just today a bus was going real slow, I was waiting for it, because I thought it best not to pull out in front of it, but it seemed to be de-excelerating, and I said " 'ell mon, let's get going". And Cheese looked over at me, his eyes all squinty, thinking. I said "it wasn't a swear it wasn't, I said ell." I think he bought it okay, or decided to let me go on it, though of course it was a swear since I said Hell man let's get going.
I haven't made it one whole day by his count, with damn, and hell in there, and oh shiiii--oo-uuugar. Hey I am clumsy, and I swear when I am in pain, or when my dinner has just landed on the floor.

He wouldn't get up for school on Thurday. Just stayed in bed. I talked to him a bit, told him it was time, scratched his back for a few minutes (which clearly made the cat jealous), told him he was running out of time to eat breakfast, then I left. I came back in a few minutes later and he was still in bed, so I started to pull him out by his legs, he playfully helped me along with this, till I was holding him up, then he decided he wished to go straight down, I do not have the strength to keep him up, so down he went. He was lying on the floor, the cat was quite interested as everyone else was on floor, and he on bed, so he came to join us, purring loudly. More prodding on my part, no results, so what else could a mom do? I went and got some cucumber and melon body splash (I don't use it, I don't like it), and chased him about the house with it, threatening to squirt him if he did not get ready for school (this worked). (So) I did this again another day with my lemon cream lotion, only I did put it on his arms and legs as at first he just ignored me and staeyd in bed, this turned out badly as he later stood in the doorway crying because he couldn't get the smell of it off, but I used wipes and paper towels till he smelled like a boy again.

Cheese and Taffy this morning. Today, is Friday, a week later than that incident, same situation, only when I got out both the cucumber and lemon stuff, he jumped out of bed in a hurry. And I chased him down the hall (as like the cat, he enjoys being chased). This started our day off in a certain sort of mood, one that would lead to him holding a pile of his dirty clothes, gleefully, threanteningly and then throwing them at me, and me, grabbing the cucumber spray and saying "Put them down the shute, or I'll shoot!" "Shute or I'll shoot!" (as I had earlier asked him to put them down the laundry shute). So of course I chased him down the hall once more (thank God the headache isn't present at present.).
On the way to school I asked him how that boy was treating him (the one who shoved my son in the face resulting in his glasses breaking, but then said "Oh I am sorry, I didn't mean to do that").
Cheese-"Oh him, he is fine, made these great brownies from his nose hairs and was offering them around yesterday".
Me- "You didn't take one did you?".
C "Of course not.".
Me-"But really, has he been nice to you, or mean, indifferent?"
C-"Very pleasant. He is drunk all the time now, so he is very pleasant".
Me "He is a happy drunk then? That's good".
C- "Yes, it's all the beans he eats".
Me-"Hhmm, they must ferment in his system".
Then I asked this child's last name, and Cheese was off saying his name over and over and making me do the same, as he thinks it is funny, something like Fiefenfurfer. (so that was this actual morning Novemeber). I know I don't do any of my parenting as the books say I should, but we do enjoy our silliness.

Saturday now, (from Oct. post date)
cartoons are on in Cheese's room, but he is down the hall, on a computer, taking personality tests. Weird activity for an 11yr old. And he came downstairs and made me take the Jung personality test too. I came out an INFJ. I had trouble with some of the questions, like whether or not I prefer to take a scientic approach. I was thinking.. "Do I like to form ideas in my head, and walk through them, and then test them out, before implementing them, or am I limited to being step by step,..or?" Then Cheese said "oh come on you make it too complicated, just ask yourself, would I rather have a mechanical robotic unicorn, or a magical one?". So I did, and I chose a magical one. So according to Cheese that meant I was not interested in the scientific approach.
I enjoy his take on things, he is a funny little man, bright, smart, mischievous, and the messiest germophobe God created.

Taffy, Cat

Taffy and Sebi-Katt this morning, and on into the day
I get up for one second, set my computer on coffee table, and come back to find my spot taken

so I move him over, and then he sets himself down so close I can barely move my left arm, and if I move him over an inch or two, so I can put my arm down, then he will just come back and lie on my arm.

Oh and the cat alarm went off today at 5:20, and 5:40 which was very annoying as no one needed to be up before 6 AM

Bob and Taffy

this morning, not so good.
My eyes were barely opened before,
Bob made fun of August Rush, then dissed Alicia Keyes, then went on and on about everything in the same horrible demeaning way.

I am getting tired of this. Bob had off yesteday and I was quite relieved when he went off skateboarding. I don't want to feel that way, like "whew, thank God he left". And I have been feeling that way lately. In the evening I will think, "oh good he is coming home", but the when he does, I think, it was better when he wasn't home.

This morning, I said to Bob "You know your first words in the morning are negative, you are making fun of someone or something, complaining. And your last words at night are the same way, as is the whole day inbetween."

He went on about how hard his day is, and how I would be the same way if I had to do it.

Which isn't true. I would be in a bad mood, I am sure,, and/or cranky and tired. But I would not be tearing everyone and everything down. He pecks at everything, and stomps on it. Britney Spears, Tom Cruise, Liberals, Hilary Clinton, Media, Environmentalists, on and on and on and on. I don't mind Bob's opinions. I understand his politics and beliefs and don't have any problem with them/him at all. (well mostly, I don't. When he acts like gays are attacking the american family, (though he insists he knows and likes gay people just fine, he just doens't like gayness) that I don't understand. I have a problem with him acting that way, but whatever. Bob is Bob, and I am me. We don't have to agree). My problem is with his bashing attitude, I hate bashing, ( I don't like the other major bashing groups habit of bashing either, I don't like Bush bashing, or America bashing, or..). I don't like any sort of bashing. And he seems to constantly be bashing something lately. Like he enjoys carrying on, and making fun of stuff. I don't. I hate the energy of it, anxious, depressing, mean.

I told him, he wasn't choosing his words well. He had been reading Tim (?) Robbins, someone Robbins, earlier this year, and Robbins's book went on about how you help shape your life, by the words you use to describe it. In fact it was not so long ago, Bob gave me a lecture about how I don't choose positive words. In response, with much sarcasm he talked of his upcoming day with positive speak. He then went off to work (thank God), and took the book with him, saying maybe he should read it some more. I think so.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

I am going to read a bit and see if I can't answer some of my questions, concerning how to deal with time in my story.

I am getting quite chummy with the tylenol, we have spent many nights together this past week, and I am resisting the urge to reach for him right now. There was frost on the ground this morning, and there is ice in my fountain (which is very very bad, I should have taken it down already, it might crack); I think this change of weather has something to do with my headaches. I recall getting them last year with the warm to cold changeover.
Maybe I should just take the darn tylenol, I know I will be more productive if do (and less of a drag). I hate taking meds though.

Took them, took edge of pain off.

5,594 words

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

winter will come

I hear her footsteps as she approaches
my flower garden wilting, turning brown.
Preparing to tuck itself back underground

I can't seem to control my mood. I was fine just an hour ago, thinking of bending down, and blowing on embers, to heat a wide circle of rocks that surround a tender little shoot, new and growing, to give warmth through the ground, to protect from wind and cold. I thought of my story as a map of my heart, a constellation chart reflecting the essential parts. I thought over the ideas and imagery, and it was like a meditation that calmed me. But now I am sad, so sad, like I have been hurt deeply in some way, in the moments between those thoughts and sitting here now, and I don't know why. I don't understand.

I guess though, that it is an okay place to start today's writing from, I don't feel anxious or scared, just sad. Like I have lost something, that mattered to me, and I don't know what it was, so I don't know how to go about searching for it, so there is no great hope of finding it. But I don't feel restless and chaotic, I feel centered in my sadness.
The words -lost illusions and delusions come to mind.

now I am off, to this writing adventure of mine.
really 3:40 PM, having lots of trouble with time in the story, how to handle it. The passing of a day, a week, a month. How to weave in and out of time in a way that is meaningful, that isn't boring, yet feels true. Don't tedioulsy going through minute by minute but not just skipping around to the more interesting parts. Some sort of balance. And how does one describe this or do that? I have a pile of books next to me, I am thinking of opening them and seeing if they can show me, but I am also reluctant to because I don't wish to be reading more than I am writing.

I am also thinking that I should have done third person, rather than I as narrator, some of my troubles I am attributing to this decision. I don't know if I should start over and give it a try the other way and see if it is better, or if I should just press on and fully do it this way first. (if I open these books surely I will be taking a look at how they handle the narration.)

4,782 equals chapter 1, plus a para. That said I am very aware that 4 of my paragraphs need to be distilled down to one.

I am trying to be upbeat about the bad writing. Saying to myself that it is good that I can see what doesn't work, can recognize what is bad (even if I am not sure as of yet, how to fix it), because what if I didn't even know that it was awful, that would be a real problem. Take my singing for example, my voice sounds perfectly pleasant to me, but as others have freely told me, sounds very bad to them. I feel there is no hope for the singing, tone deaf probably, but I think with writing I will get better at hearing pitch and eventually....

oops must get back to work

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

woven into time
all this beauty
and I

coldness of water

I love how this time of year, the water gets thicker, denser.
It looks so pretty with all that weight, all that form.

I wasted a lot of time yesterday trying to figure out my timeline, but at 7pm I realized I should just go ahead writing the day to day present of the story, and then once I have all that down, I can go back and weave the flash back type of stuff into it. Also Cheese spent a fair amount of time, wrapped in toilet paper, shooting balls of aluminum foil at me, with some sort of spoon, rubber band, and hanger contraption. I know I should have worked on the story at 8, but instead I did some research (on poppies for timeline) and then watched Heroes.


Written 8PM Tuesday
bad bad bad bad mood, writing going horribly. 3,758 words, and not good ones either. Again spent most of earlier today in research, procrastination? I don't know. I did find a lovely thing out though, about the Perseid meteor shower in mid- August, which aligns with O-bon, and goes perfectly with a climax in story. (After climatic scene-Mikiyoshi wakes up at night in the grass, looks up and sees this beautiful meteor shower. Nice.) But that is not the actual writing, that is an idea, a notion, the actual writing sucks. I keep telling myself that, that is okay, but it doesn't feel okay. I feel like I suck and will always suck and it is all so pointless, why did I think I could ever do this anyway? Each and every little decision I make is a struggle. And the results are all stupid and boring, and trite, and.. Have I mentioned that I am in a bad bad mood? But at least I am not in a play. (oh good just made myself laugh).

What have I discovered today? I only know a couple of words and reuse them over and over again, over and over again, over and... in fact I may perhpas have observed that yesterday. I can not decide on a tense, thus go back and forth between present and past tense willy nilly. Also I am a metaphor whore. And I just noticed today that two of my three main characters have the same exact coloring. Koji, the mi-ke cat, and Sen and Gen (I think of them as one character, mostly her/Gen) the Douc Langur monkeys, are white, black and reddish orange. You would think I would have noticed this some time before (it is not like I started this project yesterday), so there, that is another echo tucked into the story. Plus you have the echo of 3's. You say "A cat, two monkeys and a Japanese man? What the heck are you writing?". Shit. I mean..A fairytale, of course. Though one for a woman in her thirties, namely me.

Oh I don't want to go back, no no no, don't make me go back to working on it, I don't know what the hell I am doing. I like it here, let me stay here and write swear words, and whine. And think about how ridiculous the whole story is... KOJI WANTS TO GO HOME. LET HIM GO HOME! You are mean, woman. You know saying that will upset me. Yes, I will make sure he gets home. I will make sure he gets home. I will take care of him, I will take him home.

Oh dear,
Cheese just came downstairs balling because he saw a commerical, and Burger King is no longer giving out Viva Pinata toys. I actually got the yellow pages out and called (as proof that I care, and support), and yeah now they are giving out The Sponge Bob. It was amazing that I actually was agreeing to take him for the toy every week in the first place (he got 4. That is how often we usually go in a whole year). But he is truly upset. Now Cheese is sitting practically on top of me on left side, and the cat is on my right arm as I type.

Okay they are gone, what was I doing? Giving self an odd bit of pep talk then going back to writing, oh yeah...I am coming Koji. The journey (writing of it) you are taking might suck but it will end well. Or be well that it ends.

I am off to bed now. 10:42, read over work, made me feel worse, but tomorrow I shall continue on truding through it. When I have reached the end, I think I will go back and start again at the beginning and write it without any notes.

Monday, November 5, 2007

with words

Today with words

I want to create something delicate and beauiful. To weave a web so fine, to show what is natural and true and lovely. To extend lines of dew drops revealing exquisite form, reflecting light. Nothing garrish, harsh, artificial, nothing saccharine, no cloying fake scents, no chemical tasting fruits. Today with words, to form something rare, beautiful, alive, growing, understated, it calls softly, you stop and listen, wonder washes over you.

But I know what I will be doing today.

Today I will be taking whatever I can find, hulling from trash heaps all around me, tin cans, and barbed wire, crazy glue, and plastic flowers, paper towel tubes, emtpy ceral boxes, rags, old perfume, dead twigs, glob-by paint, whatever has been dwelling forgotten in bottom drawer of the fridge, everything that I find, dumped in a pile, then stacked together, glued, tied, nailed, crooked creation of bits and pieces, dripping of half clotted glue and paint, a stinking monstrosity of color and form, my own Frankenstein's monster, as I try desperately to create life.

But I also know today, as I create this rough jagged huge form, something will be able to take root beneath it, something young, tender and strong, and it will find its way through, vine around and up, weaving till it reaches the top, to sunlight, to potential bloom. It will start to grow within this base, using parts of this structure to find its way. It may be hard with all this mess, but I will look carefully and closely and eventually I will discover it within, and uncover it without, by taking away what it doesn't need, cutting off those parts, uncovering this new growth, giving it more air. I will prune the garrish, with saw, with scissors, with ax, cutting away, till I am left in the end with something growing, something that can become delicate and true and beautiful, in time. With care, and a sensitive eye, in time. But I can't start there, I can't hope to be there today, not anywhere near it, nor tomorrow either, first, first I must create the beast.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

My toaster says "Hi!" to your toaster

Absolute Vanilla posted gorgeous shots of reflections in her toaster yesterday.
My toaster is a rather friendly puppy dog-ish toaster and wanted to say hi to the beautiful Vanilla floral toaster.
So here he is.

I must say, through this process I realized my toaster is a bit worn (I should stop pretending it is a toaster oven, and sticking slices of pizza in it), and taking pictures of reflections in toasters (without getting yourself in them, without getting other stuff you don't want in them, doing it in such a way that anything actually looks good) is a lot harder than I had imagined. I already knew Vanilla was a great photographer, but now I see her greatness is even greater than I had realized.

My photos= works of silliness, hers= works of art.


well I have done all my prep work, boards all finished and blended into a timeline. There are things I am uncertain of with the timing, but I realize that is what the rough draft is for, trying to figure it out. It seems I am out of any sort of ruse concerning productive procrastination, and all my nanobuddies are off and running, time for me to take that first step

1-2- 3...Jump!

Now I have the boards blended together, and stacked. I am wondering should I start with the first one and just work my way through?

blurry from above, just because

Or should I start writing right here, from whatever I remember of it, and leave the boards alone for now?

I guess only I can answer this question, and as usual so far my answer is "I don't know." I suppose I shall have to give it a go one way and then see.
It is really 10:42- off I go

12:33 now. I am going through in order and typing it in. Why come up with new words, when I already have some written down? And anyway, I find I am adding new words (editing, making changes), noticing how since things were added in different times over the years, the rhythm changes ( I will need to fix that later), and connecting parts are needed (trying to do that now), and there is stuff I left out which I am now putting in, like working a physical character description into the beginning of the story. I am currently a smidge past 1000 words. Comment-It is truly a first ROUGH draft.

2:00 Linner/dunch over. I am having trouble with I and He. My notes are peppered with both. I am trying to do it with I, for the closeness of it, the intensity, but then everything the story describes has to be described through this I, how this I would describe it, the words this I would use. I find that hard. I don't know if I can make that work.

Oh and I use the word "little" a million times, yeah it's like half my word count dude. Oh so awful.

4:30PM 2,471 words, NaNo buddies are good to have, inspiring, trying to keep up, keeps me going, but part of me would also like to tell the Strugglingwriter, and Bleedingespresso to sloooow down.

10:20 PM, need to go to bed. I would like to tell you I got a lot more done, but nope, just about 200 more words, then I decided to just go over to itunes and download a song from My Neighbor Totoro, some music box version, but itunes said, I needed an update for that song, so I downloaded an update, but then when I tried to open it, my computer informed me that I needed an operating system update (maybe I should have read all that fine print). And I knew before I did that I would have to clean up my files, so I put the photos on my desk top in a folder, and I burned them, and 726 more from iphotos to disk, and then deleted 600 of them, then deleted some of my imovie stuff. Then I printed out today's writing pages, in case things went very wrong with the download. While the download happened, I watched Desperate Housewives. I need to get Cheese's clothes out of dryer, dishes are about 90% done=good enough so I am not bothering anymore with them, take the clothes upstairs and organize, take out my contacts, and I hope hope hope sleep. (just got up to offer food to some neighbor cat that was crying at our front door. Bob thinks this is a bad idea, but I fed him once before, like 8 months ago, so it isn't like he will be out there every night. I think the cat just gets bored with home food from time to time, so cries randomly at neighbors doors to see what will happen. He is driving our cat, crazy). Okay now, goodnight.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

I can't find how to find people on Nanowrimo- so I am putting my link, or rather my http:// here.
Feel free to buddy me. :)

I don't know how to do links, but you can just highlight it and move it up top there, and hit enter.


I really like how the tree seems to be intentionally echoing the bridge.

Finished all the boards, took me till 11:30 pm.
Had lovely headache all day, and night. Took tylenol this morning, much better.
There is still one eensy little paragraph of type however, sitting on the coffee table, which needs to be found a home and glued down, but I don't want to go through all the boards to find where it goes right now. (so please tell it to stop taunting me).
I still haven't folded the new boards in, in time, with the other boards, they were sticky last night (and I must be getting old because after working on the floor all day yesterday I was no longer bendy, my back kept locking up, making moving about challenging). So I need to do that, and then there is nothing else to do, but to begin.
I don't know if that beginning will be happening today or tomorrow, as I need to winterize the garden -take down the fountain, pile mulch at rose bases, and I really should plant the special winter pansies that are in planters. It looks cold out though, I might rather brave the blank page, then the chilly breeze.

7:45 PM now. I opted for the yard work, I've tucked all my roses (and friends) in for the winter, took the houses down (but wont wind and put them in garage till tomorrow, they need to dry out), planted the two asters, and 6 pansies, and put their pots away in garage. This process did give me some more notes for Echo. I will do something new and try and type them into computer directly and avoid the notebook step. Oh I didn't get to do the fountain because Bob opted to fall asleep on the sofa.
Okay so I waited a couple of hours too late to do this research, I was supposed to wait till mid November to do the mounds ( I don't know if I can get myself to undo it, plus it will be very hard to get me to redo it once it's cold outside), and I am supposed to water the roses thoroughly after the first hard freeze, so maybe I should leave a hose out, but no, that wont be good for the hose, I'll put it away and then just drag that puppy back out again for one day.
I did see something very pleasing out there, the yarrow I dug up from the back yard and replanted out front many months ago, that died away, then eventually started growing green again, is now blooming,

Friday, November 2, 2007


for what I have lost
or what I have forgotten
or for what I am to afraid to know

please whistle
or whisper a song
to me
soft and low
carried on the wind
keeping me company
while I go

The View NaNo day 2

across my room

all the pages from 10 years of off and on, working on this story (called Echo), taken out of notebooks, typed up, printed out, put in a binder, over 60,000 words, but there are also repeats in here, notes taken down about the same scenes over the years, emotional directional notes, garden observation notes, and a few pep talks. I sarted this process of notebook typing up, not this past summer but the one before. (like finding needles in haystacks, I used to write parts down randomly here and there in notebooks with all sorts of other things tucked in them randomly here and there)

because my notes are not in order, I print out a second copy of my notes, cut them up and place them on boards, and then I can arrange the boards sequentially. Only thing is, I keep getting more information, as time goes on, and then there isn't enough room on the boards I already have done, not a big deal you say, buy more boards, but these boards I can not find anywhere, and the whole thing used to be nice, it used to be color coded, by when, and who, and present or past, and now it isn't anymore.

Character pages. Funny thing though, the small white page is my main character, you would think I would have more down on him wouldn't you? But the really long one is the character who wants to be I, wants to tell the story.

Ah, and this is what I have to do today, cut and paste, and add the last of my notes, fold them into time. I don't want to do it. I couldn't do it without my ipod.

I hope to directly type in future notes, but I am sure there will be more notebook stuff.

Sitting here, with this stuff before me, I can see the beauty in the process of just jumping right in, in starting with a blank page and an open mind. Clearly that is not the path I have set out for myself. I feel like I have this world of words, that I have to wrestle with and somehow make it all flow and go together, pieces peices everywhere, on the floor, stuck in my hair, I breathe them in the very air. (oh yes sometimes with the glue stick and all, I do find I get pieces stuck in my hair)

It amazes me to realize- all this time, and work, I have put into this story already and no rough draft, none at all. I spook every time I try, and run away.