To write a book…

charlie-chaplin-392926_1280When I was in school I hated American History. I thought it was boring. I thought that since other countries had been around so much longer, they were obviously much more interesting.

Now that I am older, I am no longer so excluding. For the past few weeks I’ve been focused on the American Civil War. My attention was peaked last year when I did some family history research. It was more recently that I received a book of local ghost stories that pinged that interest again.

Then I spoke with another writer who I greatly admire. I told him that I had been thinking about writing a book that takes place during the civil war. I recounted what I had found out about my family, and he said: That sounds like a good place to start. Why don’t you?

That “Why don’t you?” Has been echoing around the empty cavern of my skull for weeks.

I tried to use the excuse, “Well, life has so many changes going on right now, with the new job and going back to school…”

My inner writer answered with, “You don’t work on the weekends and part of your degree is going to be in History anyway.”

Then the dragon of self doubt raised its head and said, “Do you really think you can find anime_dragon_1024x768-634320the time to write a book? Look how well that has worked in the past. You have three unfinished novels sitting on your computer right now. And remember that rejection letter. The one that hit the mark so well.”

The dragon almost got me. Then I remembered the rejection letter it was reminding me of was the catalyst I needed to pull up my boots and march back to school. The three unfinished novels reminded me that my current way of writing isn’t working very well and I need to try something new. (Not that those three will never be finished. Two are honestly in a rewrite stage but I changed things and got stuck in the muddle in the middle. Then proceeded to wallow in the muck.)

So now, with so many things already on my plate and with so many new challenges to face, I find myself stacking yet another task on top. I’m going to write a book. Sanderson Quote-800wi

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Bits of thoughts

A_picture_is_worth_a_thousand_wordsI don’t know if it is because I am a writer or just because I am naturally curious, but I tend to pick up a lot of useless information. I kind of seek it out. Saddly, it isn’t organized in my brain at all, but kind of shoved together like an over full closet that you try to fit just one more thing into.

Right now there is a show on talking about Oracles of the dead. Just that thought is fascinating and will probably have to have a story at some point. I also learn about psychometry and animals in Australia. I am sure it will come in handy some day.

Psychometry actually solves the small pause I just came up against in a current work in progress. The problem is that I can’t read about it right now to see if I can tweak it to work with my main character. I’ve tried but my eyes just glaze over the words.

I see the letters but the words aren’t making it through and my brain isn’t really paying attention. It is days like this I need someone to sit and read stuff to me. My ears are working fine but my eyes and brain are refusing to work together.

I guess I will go work on that scarf I have been crocheting for my son, then try it again. If that doesn’t work, I may just take a nap. Naps are like rebooting a computer, only you are rebooting the person.

Mooch-in-the-Morning…Yeah, a nap sounds good.

A bit of Fiction from a tired writer

Out of the list of things I had planned to accomplish today, I managed one. It wasn’t a blog post. However, it is still Monday so by the end of this my daily accomplishments will be up to 2.

I had over a dozen topics to blog about just a few minutes ago. Then I sat down at the the computer and my mind went as blank as the page I have been staring at. It is a good thing that blog post aren’t viewed in the real time it took someone to write them or I would have lost you all after the first paragraph.

Okay, so here is what I am going to do. Last week I didn’t do a proper post and this week I am struggling. So how about some fiction?

I wrote this short for a writing contest in October but never got to use it because they closed submissions early. It’s not exactly my best, but the few people I’ve shared it with found it amusing.

 

tink's moonlight pic

Lunch Break

It was a dark and stormy night. All I wanted to do was to eat my Hot Pocket before it cooled beyond room temperature but the rain and the full moon, hidden behind the clouds, drove people into the store. Some were on their way home. Some were stopping in before heading to work a swing shift. All had the wild look a full moon, visible or not, brings out. Eyes open too wide revealing more of the white than normal and pupils dilated dark and round.

I just wanted to eat my lunch, but the flood of people ridden by moon madness prevented me. Who really needs a pack of gum at two in the morning?

I felt a growl slip out as I handed the lady chatting on her phone back her change. She snatched it and her diet coke up without ever making eye contact. My hot pocket was growing colder, my stomach emptier, and my temper hotter with each customer.

I finally got rid of the line and sighed as a glance out of the dirty windows revealed no one in the parking lot. Once again I turned to my lunch. Just as I raised the food to my lips a car pulled up and sat idling in front of the building.

I paused before biting into my Hot Pocket as a couple of teenagers hopped out of the car. One stood in front of the door while the other rushed inside wearing tan pantyhose to disguise his face. Any other day I would have laughed, but I was hungry and I had dealt with enough people for one night. Then he did the unthinkable.

Brandishing a gun he slapped my Hot Pocket out of my hand. I watch the flaky crust of my lunch splatter and crumble on the stained tile floor, all of its cheesy goodness leaking out to join whatever people had tracked in on their shoes. I couldn’t hear what the robber was saying over the rushing roar of my anger reaching its peak.

My hands shifted as I reached for the desecrator of my Hot Pocket. My claws dug into his arm as I bent it backwards, bones snapping as the were forced to go in an unnatural direction. Then the idiot pulled the trigger, shooting himself in the chest. His buddy rushed in from outside, yelling profanity as he took in the blood joining my ruined lunch on the floor. I let him jerk his friend free from my grip when he grabbed for him and the two slipped and tripped their way back to the running car.

It spun out of the parking lot in a squeal of tires and I let my hands return to normal. When I was sure they were long gone, I washed my hands in the employee’s only sink, popped another Hot Pocket into the microwave, and went to fetch the mop.

 

Thursday Is Not Monday, but here is a post

whats-your-storyIt is currently 6 a.m. on a November Thursday morning. I missed Monday’s post again. It is getting more and more difficult to post on my work week.

I may have to go down to two posts a month rather than one every week. That is something I will have to consider later. Right now it is November so that means it is Nation Novel Writing Month.

Truthfully, I did not plan on participating this year. I have so much going on I did not intend to add one more thing. That was before vampire slaying hobos happened though. (Long story.)

So now a friend of mine and I are writing novels about the same characters hoping that by the end of the month, between the two of us, we will have an actual readable book or at least a few short stories. We only have working titles right now but look for our finished project sometime in January.

Right now I have some writing to get done. Since both kids are home sick I need to get to it while they are still asleep. Have a great day everybody and happy writing!

Monday Calls

So I missed a post last Monday. I did notice, after the fact. My work week always has me losing track of days. I think that is why they put the date on the phones at work and hang calenders all over the place.

I have lost count of how many times I have glanced at the phone display and realized that either I have time traveled or it wasn’t the day I thought it was. The calenders are there for a second reference.  Once we realize the date we have to check to make sure which day of the week it is. I have gone from phone to calender, then turned to my co-worker to announce “It’s Tuesday!”  on multiple occasions.

Sometimes this is met with a “Well, yeah.” And sometimes it is met with a “It is?!”

But today, today I am not at work. (At least not the money paying one.) Today is most definitely Monday. I didn’t even have to check the phone or calender. I could hear Monday in the chirp of the alarm clock and the desire to stay huddled in my blankets.

Monday was in the way my kids trudged to the bathroom and ate breakfast with half opened eyes. Monday was the fog hanging thick in the air as if the world itself wasn’t ready to be awake. Monday was evident in the slow drivers and the coffee commercials on the radio. (Coffee commercials are always on the radio but today they all sounded so much more appealing.)

Monday is in the phone call I just received from my son while writing this post. He forgot his glasses and I need to bring them to him, so this post will have to be cut short. Monday Calls.

Just another Monday

I was on facebook a few minutes ago. I didn’t really have a reason. I was just procrastinating. I have to get the kids up in a few minutes and rush them off to school. All of the before school prep work is done.

I could take a shower but I would rather save that until I get back home. I only have plans to drop them off, then come home and clean the house. I will probably want another shower after all that is done anyway so I think I will just wait. I can use the time it would take me to shower now, to write and sip my coffee.

If only my brain will co-operate. It feels like a heavy lump sitting inside my skull at the moment. I am hoping by the time this first cup of coffee is gone it will be rejuvenated. I think it is tired from all of the dreaming I did last night.

I don’t remember much, but there is this very vivid bit about trying to hide motorcycle tires in a tool closet and having an old Asian lady for a next door neighbor. I can see her so clearly that she will probably end up in a story somewhere. I don’t know about the bit with the motorcycle tires.

Anyway, I brought up facebook because I just watched this really neat video that was posted to my daughter’s timeline. It was a visual of what I feel like I go through with my characters sometimes. I don’t really draw of course, but there in my head fictional people are having a major kung-fu throw down.

Here is a link: https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10152922870209245

Enjoy!

Broken Ankles and Writing

Stress_FractureMy son has a hairline fracture on his ankle. We think. Apparently it is really hard to tell with kids because their bones are still growing. We have to wait until the injury begins to heal to find out if there is actually a crack. There will be calcium deposits along where the fracture is healing.

I am not sure what they intend to do once they verify his ankle is indeed broken, but right now we have it in an air cast. He takes ibuprofen and Tylenol for the pain and my dad made him a cane to help him hobble around. Funny thing is though, the pain in his ankle seemed to grow on the way to school this morning.

Don’t get me wrong. I am positive he is in some pain. The thing aches even when he isn’t using it. However, the whimpering coming from my back seat was no where in sight until we left the house. He managed to limp to the bathroom and his bedroom without much complaint, but the closer we got to school the more it seemed to hurt.

It’s Monday. I understand. I didn’t really want to get up this morning either. With the help of the principal I got him out of the car and on his way though.  Then I began to think.

I thought about my son and his aching ankle and came to the conclusion it is a little like writing and writing time. You set aside time to write, but the closer and closer it gets to that time you have more and more things to do, or maybe you find more and more excuses not to sit down.

I’m just not feeling it today. I’ve got writer’s block. My hands/back hurts. I really should get to that laundry/dishes/vacuum. 

Sound familiar? I do it too. Writing can be hard. Often we want to just wait until it motivator312687f0669fbfe47c2a3fe4249375fe980cc139becomes easier. We put it off because it is difficult. The problem with that is, you aren’t going to get better and it isn’t going to come easier unless you do it.

You just have to put your butt in the chair and write. Use duct tape if you have to.

*sound of tape ripping*  Someone remind me to pick up a new roll.