I didn't write anything yet today.  I did do some research which has resulted in my being even more confused about the time the story takes place then I was before.  Yeah!  Oh but I have narrowed it down to 1450-1850, like that's helpful.  I really need to do more research, but I also feel the pull to work on the word count, to force myself to write something, and to figure out the details later.  But I really do need to narrow it down to no more than a 100 year span.  Or else I don't wont know enough to write anything.  Ugh.

Having trouble with this post

I can't seem to work the type out right.  Anyway, started NaNoWriMo today.  Not going so well, but whatever, I've started working on it, and that's um...something.  529 words, if it isn't too cold I'm going rollerblading for a few, to wake up my brain a bit. Then I will write some more. So far what I've got isn't anything interesting to read, no good opening paragraphs, more like I'm discovering information and writing it down, like I am introducing me to the characters in a rather straight forward uninspired way, but I must start somewhere and somehow, today, and leave making it better to the future. Or else I shall just spend the month staring a blank computer screen.

    Admittedly though I am still not good at editing.  Last year I also intended to work on writing A Fountain of Swans but spent the month attempting to edit Echo instead; something that I am still struggling with figuring out how to do right/well.  But this year, I figure maybe I can learn more from working on another story; maybe each one will teach me stuff I can then lend to making both of them better.  So here I begin a month of trying to write, what is pretty much a fairytale, A Fountain of Swans.  I doubt I will finish (meaning 50,000 NaNo mark).  I've got plenty of research that needs to be done, but I am commited to spending time every day with my but in a chair, researching, writing, and dreaming my way into this world, and it into mine.  Wish me luck, and wings.

Icky day with Husband*, got lost (couple of times), got stuck in traffic, two hours spent in transit one way. By the time we got there we had no time to actually be anywhere we tried to go.  But do to extreme boredom while trapped in car,  I did manage to work on my writing a bit.  I am trying to make some of the changes suggested by reading How to Write a Damn Good Novel 2.  I was pleased to have immediately seen where and how I could apply some of them to what I already had going on. But as I worked on it, I was a bit surprised by my own resistance. I've read my work, there is no drive forward, no suspense; it would seem logical seeing this need, to supply it.  But, but....in so doing the tone is different.  It was light before, flitting above the surface, mellow and calm.  It had a certain kind of poetry to it, soft breeze. If I make these changes (a colder more tumultuous wind, that bandies one about a bit), then the whole mood changes; which part of me realizes is necessary and the rest of me is throwing a fit against.  I wrote down the changes, and worked on the scenes, but it is all still on separate pieces of paper. I am hesitant to step fully into a different version of my story. Hesitant to surrender calmer weather, for more storms, in the hopes that someone will turn a page.

 

(*husband himself is generally not icky)

 In my last post, I forgot to mention that (getting distracted along my way to making a point as usual), later that day, I read an email from the local writer's guild, and for our annual conference, James. N. Frey (not the guy who wrote a million little pieces) will be the keynote speaker.  So having just been inspired by him, I am now really looking forward to this conference. 

 The bad news is I am already behind today with getting my workout done.  The good news, the reason is because I was writing, adding more to a scene in Echo.  Finally, finally I am writing again.  And I don't just mean plunking my butt down in a chair, and staying there till I get nice long strings of words on a page (though that is the most important part); I mean thinking about the story and writing in my head, when I am brushing my teeth, and driving the car.  Story has come back to weave in and out of my every day life again. Little whisperings.  Perhaps then there really might be a writer someplace inside me.  Hopefully I can stay attuned to this, and keep working, and learn new ways of working, so I can bring my life closer to a time, when I can know she is there, and be that writer.

As usual time is flying by.  October, really?  I've set this month down for getting back to work, aka editing.  I was sitting in my car today, in the public library parking lot, reading an overdue book.  I was trying to get as much of it read as I could and drop it in the overnight bin, before the library opened, increasing the amount I owed.  I got halfway through, sorta sad really when you consider I hadn't managed to read any of it in the three weeks (or was it 6?) that I had it at home.  The reason for my mentioning it at all is, it was James N Frey's, How to Write a Damn Good Novel 2.  And I understood it, and it made sense to me, and I actually felt inspired (to fix my mistakes, and develop new skills). Which is quite a feat as nothing else I have read, in trying to learn how to edit, has done that.  I think I actually understand the why and how of my lacking suspense, and I feel like I may be able to create it, or at least now I know how to try to.  So to me, internally, sitting in a library parking lot today, was a great big deal.  The rusty cobwebbed cogs are turning!  Go gears go.  The whimsical me is all set to go dreaming again.  And the worker to forge a path by hacking away the underbrush and overgrowth.  October, what I need during thee is to believe.

My husband saw this photo the other day, that I took on a day trip to the shore, and sadly used it to to check for hair loss on the back of his head.  Perhaps I should have told him why I took it.  I was walking a few paces behind them (because my right foot hurt), and as I looked forward (wondering who these people were that I was hobbling after and why I was bothering) thought, "that is my whole life right there in front of me, my whole world contained in two people."  Now I don't mean I am not about anything else, for of course I am.  What I mean is, I felt how deeply important they are to me.  I felt there inherent value in my life, and how connected we are.  I am a mom and a wife, and in the whole world, these are my people, and I am theirs'. And it was all good, it was better than good. My family, our family, us. There was peace in it, contentment, and a bit of that wispy butterfly...happiness.

And lately I am finding that my happiness is not wispy and sheer, feelings of joy do flutter, they come and go, intense for a moment then fade, I do often feel tired (and look it), and I am still surprised by how often I get stressed out over things that ultimately don't matter, but as I get older I find that underneath these moments of feeling, running through connecting all to each other, is a stability of feeling which I would call at its core happy. I would not describe it as the happiness of giddy laughter, but the happiness of things feeling right. We are still working on the details, as individuals, and as a family,  of how we want to be in the world, and how we want to be with each other, but it's good. It's better than good. And I am grateful. Grateful to have these two people to hobble after on a sunny hot August day, these people who can really drive me nuts.  My people. My family. Us. I don't want to be part of any other story.

Check out the Bleeding Espresso link (down quite a bit and over to the right) for a contest which hopes to increase our ovarian cancer awareness (and thus decrease our risks).

I will be reading more about it myself, but can't now as my husband is sitting next to me; he is a nice and rather chatty fellow (who likes to share whatever he is thinking or looking at, like showing me pics of, "rad skateboard designs"), rendering me unable to read or think.

I do know there is some connection with foods that have the letter O