It’s that time of year again. November is nearly upon us, and you know what that means, right?
*wiggles fingers and shakes out wrists*
No, I’m not talking about Halloween and dressing up and candy. Nor am I talking about the big turkey day complete with stuffing and pie. Or even all the excitement that is December. (Although, all those things are definitely worth anticipating.)
*rolls head from side-to-side*
Thousands of authors around the world are gearing up for this epic event. Are you ready? Yes?
*Does some full body stretching and ties on running shoes*
November is National Novel Writing Month, aka NaNoWriMo, in which we all take a shiny new idea and sprint-write a book of at least 50,000 words in thirty days. Yes, you read that right. Thirty days. 3-0. I will be participating. Yes, I have an idea and characters and a non-outline, but a general direction.
And I am hereby announcing my intention to complete this challenge by midnight, November 30th. Wanna join? Check out the website, read the rules, and sign up. It’s free. It’s fun. It’s a great way to get that fiction novel written—or at the very least stretch your creative side longer, wider, and harder.
And when you do sign up, look for me! I’ll come be your NaNo friend. On your mark, get set, GO!
**Also, since November is all about giving thanks, I will be hosting some awesome follower appreciation giveaways—so be sure to keep your eyes open for those announcements.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Just One Line
I must be on a movie kick or something. Have you ever noticed that certain lines from popular or hit movies are the lines that would sound stupid or make very little sense except for the brilliance of the delivery?
I’m thinking It’s all in the execution. Has to do with the character, the vocal tone, accents, and most importantly, the ability of the actor saying the line. Do you agree?
We already discussed, “Never say die.” So how about some other great lines from movies. Consider the following:
“Failure is not an option.” And “Houston, we have a problem.” ~Apollo 13
“You had me at hello.” ~Jerry McGuire
“I see dead people.” ~The Sixth Sense
"Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you." ~Star Wars, The Phantom Menace
“Luke, I am your father.” ~Empire Strikes Back
"My Mama always said, 'Life was like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get.'"
“Mama says, ‘Stupid is as stupid does.’” And “Run, Forrest, Run!” ~Forrest Gump
"Are you crying? There's no crying! There's no crying in baseball!" ~A League of Their Own
"I want the fairy tale." ~Pretty Woman
“That’ll do, pig, that’ll do.” ~Babe
All memorable quotes, right? But while most of us can probably imagine the exact scene from which each quote was spoken, none of the lines has anything else in common with the others. So what makes them so memorable?
Character, scene, situation, and story combined with timing. These same techniques can also combine to create quoteable lines in books.
What are some of your favorite memorable lines? And how can we write lines like this into our books?
Okay, I can’t resist. Who knows what movie this is from: “Hey, there are skittles in there!”
I’m thinking It’s all in the execution. Has to do with the character, the vocal tone, accents, and most importantly, the ability of the actor saying the line. Do you agree?
We already discussed, “Never say die.” So how about some other great lines from movies. Consider the following:
“Failure is not an option.” And “Houston, we have a problem.” ~Apollo 13
“You had me at hello.” ~Jerry McGuire
“I see dead people.” ~The Sixth Sense
"Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you." ~Star Wars, The Phantom Menace
“Luke, I am your father.” ~Empire Strikes Back
"My Mama always said, 'Life was like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get.'"
“Mama says, ‘Stupid is as stupid does.’” And “Run, Forrest, Run!” ~Forrest Gump
"Are you crying? There's no crying! There's no crying in baseball!" ~A League of Their Own
"I want the fairy tale." ~Pretty Woman
“That’ll do, pig, that’ll do.” ~Babe
All memorable quotes, right? But while most of us can probably imagine the exact scene from which each quote was spoken, none of the lines has anything else in common with the others. So what makes them so memorable?
Character, scene, situation, and story combined with timing. These same techniques can also combine to create quoteable lines in books.
What are some of your favorite memorable lines? And how can we write lines like this into our books?
Okay, I can’t resist. Who knows what movie this is from: “Hey, there are skittles in there!”
Monday, October 25, 2010
Because People are Interesting
You know, whenever I’m in a public place where I hear authors answer questions from the public (aka fans), it becomes inevitable that someone will ask where that author gets his or her story ideas.
Unfortunately, that’s a loaded question. But also a simple one. Because most of our ideas come from real life. Things we see, things we hear about, people we meet.
Just the other day, a friend (and fellow writer) and I had a discussion about how fascinated we are by people’s life stories. Just as no two authors have the same success story, no two people have the same life story.
I think this is probably in large part why I write. I’m fascinated by the journeys of individual people, and this fascination, the “what if,” is what creates stories in my head. Full blown characters with full experiences that cause them to grow and learn.
It doesn’t help that I’m a people watcher. Everywhere I go, I find myself soaking people in—researching possible characters for future stories. I wonder why this person is this way, or why that person makes one choice rather than another. I wonder who they love, and who loves them, and what feels like home to them. I wonder who they are inside, and how they became that person.
Is this unusual? Does everyone do this or is it a trait unique to the creative community? I don’t know. But just in case you were wondering, my ideas all come from watching and experiencing life in all its many glorious forms.
So, you know. Keep on living, keep on dreaming, and if by chance you notice a writerly-type person observing you, consider it a compliment. It’s because you’re interesting.
Unfortunately, that’s a loaded question. But also a simple one. Because most of our ideas come from real life. Things we see, things we hear about, people we meet.
Just the other day, a friend (and fellow writer) and I had a discussion about how fascinated we are by people’s life stories. Just as no two authors have the same success story, no two people have the same life story.
I think this is probably in large part why I write. I’m fascinated by the journeys of individual people, and this fascination, the “what if,” is what creates stories in my head. Full blown characters with full experiences that cause them to grow and learn.
It doesn’t help that I’m a people watcher. Everywhere I go, I find myself soaking people in—researching possible characters for future stories. I wonder why this person is this way, or why that person makes one choice rather than another. I wonder who they love, and who loves them, and what feels like home to them. I wonder who they are inside, and how they became that person.
Is this unusual? Does everyone do this or is it a trait unique to the creative community? I don’t know. But just in case you were wondering, my ideas all come from watching and experiencing life in all its many glorious forms.
So, you know. Keep on living, keep on dreaming, and if by chance you notice a writerly-type person observing you, consider it a compliment. It’s because you’re interesting.
Friday, October 22, 2010
And Speaking of Flying...
A few weeks ago, I happened to be on a flight from Baltimore to Salt Lake City, during which I had the opportunity to sit next to a four-year-old boy named Finn.
It’s been a while since I flew with a child that age, but I have to admit, considering the length of the flight (almost 5 hours) this kid was amazingly patient, and extremely well behaved, but full of personality. We became fast friends, he and I.
Still, it was a long flight. And eventually, Finn got restless. His mother was prepared with things to keep him busy, but after a while, he grew tired of playing with those things and needed something more, something different.
Luckily, the writer sitting next to Finn happened to have a rainbow of colored critiquing pens in her bag, which he then used to draw beautiful art in her notebook. (Sadly, my recently acquired picture book was in my suitcase in the overhead bin.)
Finn’s gracious mother thanked me over and over for helping and for being patient with she and her children throughout the flight.
Here’s what she didn’t know.
I was very sad when I got on that plane, because of who I’d left behind. Not only that, but I was miserably sick (but not contagious) and missing my own family. That sweet little boy was a needed distraction, a sweet relief from my misery, and about the most interesting person I’ve met on any flight, ever.
We helped each other, Finn and me.
Most likely, I’ll never see that family again. But I wonder about them. How their trip went, what they did, how long they stayed. Also, I wonder what that boy’s life will be like in ten years, or twelve, when he’s old enough to read. Will he someday pick up one of my books and find himself inside it? (Or, you know, a character similar to him.)
Maybe he will. Maybe that four-year-old whose smile brightened a dreary day will someday become a storybook hero. Or at least a fan. Only time will tell.
And maybe someday, if I'm lucky, I'll have the opportunity to meet Finn again. If I do, I hope I can show him the artwork in my notebook that will always remind me of the little boy who once sat next to me on a plane.
It’s been a while since I flew with a child that age, but I have to admit, considering the length of the flight (almost 5 hours) this kid was amazingly patient, and extremely well behaved, but full of personality. We became fast friends, he and I.
Still, it was a long flight. And eventually, Finn got restless. His mother was prepared with things to keep him busy, but after a while, he grew tired of playing with those things and needed something more, something different.
Luckily, the writer sitting next to Finn happened to have a rainbow of colored critiquing pens in her bag, which he then used to draw beautiful art in her notebook. (Sadly, my recently acquired picture book was in my suitcase in the overhead bin.)
Finn’s gracious mother thanked me over and over for helping and for being patient with she and her children throughout the flight.
Here’s what she didn’t know.
I was very sad when I got on that plane, because of who I’d left behind. Not only that, but I was miserably sick (but not contagious) and missing my own family. That sweet little boy was a needed distraction, a sweet relief from my misery, and about the most interesting person I’ve met on any flight, ever.
We helped each other, Finn and me.
Most likely, I’ll never see that family again. But I wonder about them. How their trip went, what they did, how long they stayed. Also, I wonder what that boy’s life will be like in ten years, or twelve, when he’s old enough to read. Will he someday pick up one of my books and find himself inside it? (Or, you know, a character similar to him.)
Maybe he will. Maybe that four-year-old whose smile brightened a dreary day will someday become a storybook hero. Or at least a fan. Only time will tell.
And maybe someday, if I'm lucky, I'll have the opportunity to meet Finn again. If I do, I hope I can show him the artwork in my notebook that will always remind me of the little boy who once sat next to me on a plane.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Never Say Die
I’m totally watching Goonies as I write this. One of my favorite movies from my childhood. A bunch of great one-liners.
Remember these ones? “Goonies never say die.”
And.
“Up there it’s their time, but down here it’s our time.”
I think those two lines are relevant to Monday’s post. I had another blog all scheduled for today, but after some of Monday’s comments, I had to touch on this subject once more. (Well, I didn’t have to, per se, but I wanted to, so.)
The thing is, about the time we’ve spent a handful of years working hard, paid a small fortune towards education, and maybe even started families, we’ve unknowingly somehow lost that childlike confidence we had as teens. It’s not something any one person did to us, or even something I think we can avoid necessarily. Life happens. Sometimes things suck. We have to learn, and so learn we do. Up here, it’s our time.
But down there, in teen-ager-hood, life is all about who likes who and who said what on FB, and who attended what party and who got arrested for possession (yes, I said possession). But that’s not all. It’s also about discovering their strengths, their interests, and at some point, figuring out what they really truly want to do with their lives. A great many of them make a lot of these discoveries through books, music, arts, sports, and other mediums often explored in the halls of a high school. But those mediums can only take them so far.
That’s where we—the parents and grownups in their lives—come in. Regardless of what we have chosen for our life paths, we have the power to give them the tools they need to choose their own. By taking risks, by working hard, by doing all the hard things we never thought possible, we teach them by example to never stop pursuing that dream—however elusive it may seem. And rather than telling them, “That’s too hard,” or, “You’re not good enough,” maybe we should be telling them, “It’ll be a lot of work, but you can handle it,” and, “Keep going. I believe in you.”
It’s a win-win, don’t you think? Because we all need someone to believe in us, someone who will remind us to never say die.
Who is that someone for you?
Remember these ones? “Goonies never say die.”
And.
“Up there it’s their time, but down here it’s our time.”
I think those two lines are relevant to Monday’s post. I had another blog all scheduled for today, but after some of Monday’s comments, I had to touch on this subject once more. (Well, I didn’t have to, per se, but I wanted to, so.)
The thing is, about the time we’ve spent a handful of years working hard, paid a small fortune towards education, and maybe even started families, we’ve unknowingly somehow lost that childlike confidence we had as teens. It’s not something any one person did to us, or even something I think we can avoid necessarily. Life happens. Sometimes things suck. We have to learn, and so learn we do. Up here, it’s our time.
But down there, in teen-ager-hood, life is all about who likes who and who said what on FB, and who attended what party and who got arrested for possession (yes, I said possession). But that’s not all. It’s also about discovering their strengths, their interests, and at some point, figuring out what they really truly want to do with their lives. A great many of them make a lot of these discoveries through books, music, arts, sports, and other mediums often explored in the halls of a high school. But those mediums can only take them so far.
That’s where we—the parents and grownups in their lives—come in. Regardless of what we have chosen for our life paths, we have the power to give them the tools they need to choose their own. By taking risks, by working hard, by doing all the hard things we never thought possible, we teach them by example to never stop pursuing that dream—however elusive it may seem. And rather than telling them, “That’s too hard,” or, “You’re not good enough,” maybe we should be telling them, “It’ll be a lot of work, but you can handle it,” and, “Keep going. I believe in you.”
It’s a win-win, don’t you think? Because we all need someone to believe in us, someone who will remind us to never say die.
Who is that someone for you?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Do They Know?
After last week’s discussion about encouraging—rather than discouraging—our children in their creative efforts, I started to wonder. Do my kids know how much faith I have in them? Do they truly understand what they can do if they really commit themselves?
My kids aren’t little anymore. In fact, they’re on the cusp of adulthood. As they make this transition, will they spread their wings and take off? Or will they burrow into a hole and be afraid of the desires of their hearts?
Granted, most of us end up somewhere in the middle and walk into adulthood on legs—and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I have to wonder. If we knew—really, truly knew—our own potential when we were teens, would we have chosen to walk? Or would we have run? Or maybe found wings?
I don’t know the answer to that particular what if, and I have no regrets. I love where I am in life. But I wonder about my kids. Do they know what they can do?
I don’t know for sure one way or another. But I can help them realize their potential. I can help them find the things they love most in life and excel at them.
I—their mother—have the power to give my children the ability to fly. I just have to remember to use it.
So there you have it. This week’s profound parenting thought.
*Don’t forget to stop by my book review blog and see my review of a fab new book, Perilous by Tamara Heart Heiner and enter to win one of several fantabulous prizes, including a Kindle!
My kids aren’t little anymore. In fact, they’re on the cusp of adulthood. As they make this transition, will they spread their wings and take off? Or will they burrow into a hole and be afraid of the desires of their hearts?
Granted, most of us end up somewhere in the middle and walk into adulthood on legs—and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I have to wonder. If we knew—really, truly knew—our own potential when we were teens, would we have chosen to walk? Or would we have run? Or maybe found wings?
I don’t know the answer to that particular what if, and I have no regrets. I love where I am in life. But I wonder about my kids. Do they know what they can do?
I don’t know for sure one way or another. But I can help them realize their potential. I can help them find the things they love most in life and excel at them.
I—their mother—have the power to give my children the ability to fly. I just have to remember to use it.
So there you have it. This week’s profound parenting thought.
*Don’t forget to stop by my book review blog and see my review of a fab new book, Perilous by Tamara Heart Heiner and enter to win one of several fantabulous prizes, including a Kindle!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Newsflash: All YA Books are Disturbing.
On Wednesday, I questioned whether or not my son’s teacher had the right to give low marks to a short story based on the fact that she found the premise disturbing.
Doc’s question to me was, “Mom, aren’t teachers supposed to read real books?”
Here’s the thing. They should. They really should. But that doesn’t mean they do.
If my son’s teacher is smart, she would have read, I don’t know, maybe, The Hunger Games. Or, To Kill a Mockingbird, or The Scarlett Letter, Lord of the Flies, Shakespeare, or any number of the current popular Vampire/werewolf/paranormal/fantasy/dystopian books. But maybe she’s not a fan of the fantastical. Maybe she prefers YA issue books. Still.
Here’s the thing: ALL those books are disturbing in one way or another. Heck, being a teenager is disturbing. They read about post apocalyptic societies in which children are forced to fight to the death. About deadly creatures who roam earth, right under the noses of the clueless public. They read about addiction, abuse, neglect, cruelty, and all manner of emotional trauma. They read about *gasp* the kind of true love that makes you do stupid things—like ask to become a vampire. Or a faery.
Show me a YA book that isn’t disturbing in one way or another, and I’ll show you a YA book only being read by adults. And not by many.
Is it really a shocker to discover that these teen readers write similar stories?
But then, I say that assuming the teacher in question has read any of these books. Because, as mentioned above, just because she should doesn’t mean she has. Or does. Or will. However, if she hasn’t, how is she able to fairly grade papers written by the kids who are her students?The ones who read disturbing books?
As mentioned earlier, I respect that teacher’s ability to grade papers based on opinion. Even when the technical aspects have been efficiently handled. But I am also troubled by her choice to discourage any kid from expressing their creativity in the best way they know by downgrading their paper for being disturbing.
I believe kids have a hundred times more power than adults behind their creative instincts, because they have not yet learned to care what others think of their work. They write, dance, create, play, and dream just because they can. It is only as they become adults and have numerous people working to convince them that they aren’t good enough, that they actually start to believe it’s true.
Again, I ask you. Does an adult—especially a teacher—have the right to begin the cycle of “I’m not good enough” for a child? Even if that child is on the verge of adulthood?
Something to think about I guess.
Doc’s question to me was, “Mom, aren’t teachers supposed to read real books?”
Here’s the thing. They should. They really should. But that doesn’t mean they do.
If my son’s teacher is smart, she would have read, I don’t know, maybe, The Hunger Games. Or, To Kill a Mockingbird, or The Scarlett Letter, Lord of the Flies, Shakespeare, or any number of the current popular Vampire/werewolf/paranormal/fantasy/dystopian books. But maybe she’s not a fan of the fantastical. Maybe she prefers YA issue books. Still.
Here’s the thing: ALL those books are disturbing in one way or another. Heck, being a teenager is disturbing. They read about post apocalyptic societies in which children are forced to fight to the death. About deadly creatures who roam earth, right under the noses of the clueless public. They read about addiction, abuse, neglect, cruelty, and all manner of emotional trauma. They read about *gasp* the kind of true love that makes you do stupid things—like ask to become a vampire. Or a faery.
Show me a YA book that isn’t disturbing in one way or another, and I’ll show you a YA book only being read by adults. And not by many.
Is it really a shocker to discover that these teen readers write similar stories?
But then, I say that assuming the teacher in question has read any of these books. Because, as mentioned above, just because she should doesn’t mean she has. Or does. Or will. However, if she hasn’t, how is she able to fairly grade papers written by the kids who are her students?The ones who read disturbing books?
As mentioned earlier, I respect that teacher’s ability to grade papers based on opinion. Even when the technical aspects have been efficiently handled. But I am also troubled by her choice to discourage any kid from expressing their creativity in the best way they know by downgrading their paper for being disturbing.
I believe kids have a hundred times more power than adults behind their creative instincts, because they have not yet learned to care what others think of their work. They write, dance, create, play, and dream just because they can. It is only as they become adults and have numerous people working to convince them that they aren’t good enough, that they actually start to believe it’s true.
Again, I ask you. Does an adult—especially a teacher—have the right to begin the cycle of “I’m not good enough” for a child? Even if that child is on the verge of adulthood?
Something to think about I guess.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Fast Food Chain Taking Over the World = Disturbing
Remember my son Doc? (Why, yes, I am a dork who has named my kids after cartoon dwarfs.) He’s my brainstormer, the one I go to when I have plot issues, or when I hit a block and need a good shot of creativity. He’s an avid reader, so his thoughts are linear, and however fantastical, tend to make sense in context with character and plot.
Doc wrote a short story the other day for an assignment. It was a group assignment, written by 4 boys, so naturally, it involved a fast food chain taking over the world by selling brainwashing food. Not at all shocking to this mother.
He’s always been an excellent writer and English student. It’s a natural strength. He is, after all, my son.
*beams with pride*
But. This particular story was given bad marks. Doc came home, disgusted with his teacher—not for the marks themselves, but for the reasoning behind them, which made no sense to him. He ticked off on his fingers each requirement, which was in his paper. Still, the page bled with green slashes, and in large letters down the side, the teacher had written “DISTURBING.”
His question to me was, “Mom, aren’t teachers supposed to read books? Like, real ones?”
Why yes, son, yes they are. Especially English and literacy teachers. In fact, teachers should—theoretically—read at least some of the books their students are reading. In my opinion. Call me crazy.
Having the word “DISTURBING” written in large green letters down the side of the page discouraged those four boys, though, being that they're not exactly writing for pleasure, they probably don't realize why.
So here’s my question to you. Does any influential adult (teacher, parent, grandparent, guardian, second cousin once removed) have the right to censor the work of a child if that work has followed the given guidelines in every aspect other than meeting the tastes of the adult in question?
And if they do, does doing so feel reminiscent, eerily similar even, to banning books?
**More about this subject Friday, wherein I will discuss the things these boys are most likely reading.
Doc wrote a short story the other day for an assignment. It was a group assignment, written by 4 boys, so naturally, it involved a fast food chain taking over the world by selling brainwashing food. Not at all shocking to this mother.
He’s always been an excellent writer and English student. It’s a natural strength. He is, after all, my son.
*beams with pride*
But. This particular story was given bad marks. Doc came home, disgusted with his teacher—not for the marks themselves, but for the reasoning behind them, which made no sense to him. He ticked off on his fingers each requirement, which was in his paper. Still, the page bled with green slashes, and in large letters down the side, the teacher had written “DISTURBING.”
His question to me was, “Mom, aren’t teachers supposed to read books? Like, real ones?”
Why yes, son, yes they are. Especially English and literacy teachers. In fact, teachers should—theoretically—read at least some of the books their students are reading. In my opinion. Call me crazy.
Having the word “DISTURBING” written in large green letters down the side of the page discouraged those four boys, though, being that they're not exactly writing for pleasure, they probably don't realize why.
So here’s my question to you. Does any influential adult (teacher, parent, grandparent, guardian, second cousin once removed) have the right to censor the work of a child if that work has followed the given guidelines in every aspect other than meeting the tastes of the adult in question?
And if they do, does doing so feel reminiscent, eerily similar even, to banning books?
**More about this subject Friday, wherein I will discuss the things these boys are most likely reading.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Can Service be Selfish?
**Warning. Random thinking may be involved in this post**
I had the opportunity to do something the other day. Something good. As with most things we choose, there were a thousand possible consequences to my choice to do, or not do, this thing.
But as I weighed the pros and cons, the whole issue boiled down to one point. It felt like the right thing to do. And for me, that’s all that mattered.
Well, okay. Not ALL, all. But maybe the most important thing.
I have this thing—this, IDK maybe it’s compassion?—where I feel like the condition of the human spirit is one of the most important parts of life. Like, it should be a priority, you know? And my spirit is always healthier when those around me, or who I care about, are somewhat balanced.
While this sounds like a good thing, it also feels selfish. I have to wonder if I serve others more for their benefit or mine. If I do something—no matter how good—that inadvertently (eventually) comes back to benefit me, did I really do it for them? Or for me?
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t generally do nice things for selfish reasons. At least, not consciously. But it becomes a cause and effect thing. Like one of Newton’s laws. Every good deed must reap a reward. It’s Karma.
Has my subconscious figured this out? And if it has, are my good decisions really selfish?
If that’s true, I don’t know how to change it. Maybe it shouldn’t be changed at all. Or maybe there’s more I can do to serve others. (Wait, did I just say maybe? Make that definitely.) Maybe I should stop over thinking it and go with instinct.
I’m not necessarily looking for the universe to bow to my needs when I hold the door open for someone, you know? (Though I wouldn’t complain if it did.) My life is full of miracles. And if events in it don’t always work on my timetable or the way I want them to happen—well. I’m probably better off. Because when it comes down to it, I choose to do the things that make my spirit feel balanced.
And that, my friends, is the healthiest way to be.
**Random thinking concluded. Carry on.**
I had the opportunity to do something the other day. Something good. As with most things we choose, there were a thousand possible consequences to my choice to do, or not do, this thing.
But as I weighed the pros and cons, the whole issue boiled down to one point. It felt like the right thing to do. And for me, that’s all that mattered.
Well, okay. Not ALL, all. But maybe the most important thing.
I have this thing—this, IDK maybe it’s compassion?—where I feel like the condition of the human spirit is one of the most important parts of life. Like, it should be a priority, you know? And my spirit is always healthier when those around me, or who I care about, are somewhat balanced.
While this sounds like a good thing, it also feels selfish. I have to wonder if I serve others more for their benefit or mine. If I do something—no matter how good—that inadvertently (eventually) comes back to benefit me, did I really do it for them? Or for me?
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t generally do nice things for selfish reasons. At least, not consciously. But it becomes a cause and effect thing. Like one of Newton’s laws. Every good deed must reap a reward. It’s Karma.
Has my subconscious figured this out? And if it has, are my good decisions really selfish?
If that’s true, I don’t know how to change it. Maybe it shouldn’t be changed at all. Or maybe there’s more I can do to serve others. (Wait, did I just say maybe? Make that definitely.) Maybe I should stop over thinking it and go with instinct.
I’m not necessarily looking for the universe to bow to my needs when I hold the door open for someone, you know? (Though I wouldn’t complain if it did.) My life is full of miracles. And if events in it don’t always work on my timetable or the way I want them to happen—well. I’m probably better off. Because when it comes down to it, I choose to do the things that make my spirit feel balanced.
And that, my friends, is the healthiest way to be.
**Random thinking concluded. Carry on.**
Friday, October 8, 2010
The Breaking Point
Apparently, I have a thing for writing a blog on Wednesday and then continuing with the same subject on Friday, because here I go again.
Back to the dentist thing. You know what I realized? 99% of the time, I detest going to the dentist. I mean, yeah, I get my teeth cleaned regularly, and if I need other work, I get it done because—well, that’s just what you do if you want to keep your teeth.
But last week, I was willing to do anything to get into a dentist’s chair, positively begging to have them stick that needle in my gums and get me good and numb. Because suddenly I needed that guy. Bad. And when you have a need like that, you find yourself looking at life from a different perspective. You do and think things you wouldn’t normally do and think.
Thus, I scratched off everything else on my schedule in order to devote my week to dental consultations and treatments, and then recovery. And you guys, I’m usually a pretty frugal person, so it pains me to admit that I didn’t care how much that specialist wanted to charge. (Later, I’d have probably been ticked if it were worse than it actually was, but not that particular day.) More like, “Do you take Visa?”
Such an aberration for me. And the difference is, of course, pain.
So. Now we know I’m a wimp (ahem, quit laughing). I’ve discovered my limit, the threshold at which I crack. Everyone has one, including and especially fictional characters. And we don’t always know where that threshold lies until we cross it.
But I did learn from the experience. I won’t share here because it would be a boring info dump, so just trust me. I learned stuff.
Where is your threshold? And once you reach that limit, what would you be willing to do to back up, cross over, or just stop the madness altogether? If you’re a writer, do you know your main character’s breaking point? And more importantly, even as you’re throwing rocks at them, what will you do to save them from demise? Will you? Can you? Should you?
Back to the dentist thing. You know what I realized? 99% of the time, I detest going to the dentist. I mean, yeah, I get my teeth cleaned regularly, and if I need other work, I get it done because—well, that’s just what you do if you want to keep your teeth.
But last week, I was willing to do anything to get into a dentist’s chair, positively begging to have them stick that needle in my gums and get me good and numb. Because suddenly I needed that guy. Bad. And when you have a need like that, you find yourself looking at life from a different perspective. You do and think things you wouldn’t normally do and think.
Thus, I scratched off everything else on my schedule in order to devote my week to dental consultations and treatments, and then recovery. And you guys, I’m usually a pretty frugal person, so it pains me to admit that I didn’t care how much that specialist wanted to charge. (Later, I’d have probably been ticked if it were worse than it actually was, but not that particular day.) More like, “Do you take Visa?”
Such an aberration for me. And the difference is, of course, pain.
So. Now we know I’m a wimp (ahem, quit laughing). I’ve discovered my limit, the threshold at which I crack. Everyone has one, including and especially fictional characters. And we don’t always know where that threshold lies until we cross it.
But I did learn from the experience. I won’t share here because it would be a boring info dump, so just trust me. I learned stuff.
Where is your threshold? And once you reach that limit, what would you be willing to do to back up, cross over, or just stop the madness altogether? If you’re a writer, do you know your main character’s breaking point? And more importantly, even as you’re throwing rocks at them, what will you do to save them from demise? Will you? Can you? Should you?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Different than I Expected
*Contrary to how the first paragraph may appear, this is not going to be a post of complaint, I promise.
Last week, I had the toothache from hell. No, really. Like, fire and brimstone heat I could feel beating like a heartbeat in one tiny spot in my mouth, and up into my head. So I went to my dentist, because I just knew he could fix this awful pain.
I mean, he’s my dentist. Teeth are his thing. And we go to him because he’s good. But within minutes of relaxing back into the chair (practically begging him to do a root canal or whatever), he shook his head, “I’m going to refer you to an endodontist who is better qualified to treat this problem.”
Wait. What? Back up the truck. You’re sending me where? And more importantly, it means I have to make it through another night of pain? Okay, so in his defense, he gave me some meds and an antibiotic, and encouraged me to tell the staff at the other office how bad it hurt so they’d rush me in. But still. I wasn’t feeling so happy just then.
That night, I actually dreamed I DIED of an infected tooth.
Two appointments (and days) later, I dragged my shaky self to the specialists office, where I was shocked and amazed. They lay me back in the cushiest dentist’s chair ever, with butter-soft leather and a neck pillow at just the right height, and offered me an iPod with sound eliminating headphones, numbed me up, and then…
I took a sort-of nap (a real one, not the drug-induced kind). Then I was done.
That was it? All it took to fix something that had felt like such a huge, daunting problem? A freaking nap? (Well, and lots of money, but we won’t go there.)
And yes, it’s fixed. I was told that I could expect to be pretty sore for the next two weeks, that my pain might get worse before it gets better and blah blah blah. Truth: it’s better. So. Much. Better. Still a little sore, but not as bad as I expected.
Because even though my dentist is good, he knew I needed to see someone else for that one particular problem, and he wanted me to have the best care possible.
How often do we do that in life? We do something expecting it to turn out one way, but then it doesn’t. We complain and moan, and whine a bit, and then are shocked and amazed when we discover that we are now much better off than we would’ve been had things happened our way in the first place. Yep. That’s me this week.
And I can’t tell you how glad I am. Is it just me, or does stuff like this happen to you often too?
Monday, October 4, 2010
Not in the Mood
*Really quick: The Sharp Edge of a Knife is now available for your e-reader. Bargain priced, too.
I’ve been thinking about moods, lately. Probably because I haven’t written more than blog posts for over two weeks for the soul reason that I haven’t been in the mood. When it comes to being creative, mood has a lot to do with our success. Don’t you think?
Or, at the very least, it has a lot to do with either the quality or the style of work that comes out of us.
In my current mood, I’ve found every possible excuse to not write. And I have no guilt over that, because I know that any writing I would’ve done in my current frame of mind would be worthless. So I allowed myself this time off. Time to take naps, spend time hanging out with my kids, time to watch the world fly by at 70 miles per hour (see this post about my travels if you’re curious), time to critique the work of others.
I even put out my fall decorations. *gasp* Well. It is October, after all.
Interestingly enough, the other day one of my kids showed signs of needing time off. There was nothing specific driving his need, but maybe a combination of a bunch of small stuff. So I let him stay home from school. We hung out together, ran a few errands, went to lunch, spent time snuggling.
And he felt better. I suspect this next week will be better for him. And after some time with my kids, my girlfriends, and myself, I expect this week to be much more productive for me as well. I intend to write, critique, and maybe even catch up on reading blogs.
Do you have weeks like this? What do you do to readjust your moods?
I’ve been thinking about moods, lately. Probably because I haven’t written more than blog posts for over two weeks for the soul reason that I haven’t been in the mood. When it comes to being creative, mood has a lot to do with our success. Don’t you think?
Or, at the very least, it has a lot to do with either the quality or the style of work that comes out of us.
In my current mood, I’ve found every possible excuse to not write. And I have no guilt over that, because I know that any writing I would’ve done in my current frame of mind would be worthless. So I allowed myself this time off. Time to take naps, spend time hanging out with my kids, time to watch the world fly by at 70 miles per hour (see this post about my travels if you’re curious), time to critique the work of others.
I even put out my fall decorations. *gasp* Well. It is October, after all.
Interestingly enough, the other day one of my kids showed signs of needing time off. There was nothing specific driving his need, but maybe a combination of a bunch of small stuff. So I let him stay home from school. We hung out together, ran a few errands, went to lunch, spent time snuggling.
And he felt better. I suspect this next week will be better for him. And after some time with my kids, my girlfriends, and myself, I expect this week to be much more productive for me as well. I intend to write, critique, and maybe even catch up on reading blogs.
Do you have weeks like this? What do you do to readjust your moods?
Friday, October 1, 2010
Oh the Places You've Been!
Yeah, I copied and twisted that title from Dr. Seuss. I admit it. Had to be done after Wednesday’s post.
So question. When you go somewhere new, do you wander around considering it as a story setting? Or when you meet a particularly interesting person, do you study them for use with character traits, or accents or other things?
Wait, why am I asking? Of course you do. Even people who aren’t writers study places and people in this way. Maybe not in quite such an observant manner (which is too bad, if you ask me) but still. We pay attention to the things that interest us, right? Because, well, if we aren’t interested, we don’t notice. Yeah. Logic.
Which leads to another question. How much do your life experiences—the places you’ve been, things you’ve done, people you’ve met—color or inspire your creative endeavors? (Aka writing, painting, music, crafting, sewing, decorating—whatever.)
There is no right or wrong answer here. I’m just curious. Because, you know, I’m a writer and writers are perhaps the most curious bunch of people on the planet—including five-year-olds.
Given my recent experiences, does it stand to reason that someday I’ll write about an extended road trip? Yeah. Probably. Seems like a good idea for some far-off-distant day. Would you? Could you? Do you?
Would you eat green eggs and ham? Or would you hate them, Sam-I-Am?
So question. When you go somewhere new, do you wander around considering it as a story setting? Or when you meet a particularly interesting person, do you study them for use with character traits, or accents or other things?
Wait, why am I asking? Of course you do. Even people who aren’t writers study places and people in this way. Maybe not in quite such an observant manner (which is too bad, if you ask me) but still. We pay attention to the things that interest us, right? Because, well, if we aren’t interested, we don’t notice. Yeah. Logic.
Which leads to another question. How much do your life experiences—the places you’ve been, things you’ve done, people you’ve met—color or inspire your creative endeavors? (Aka writing, painting, music, crafting, sewing, decorating—whatever.)
There is no right or wrong answer here. I’m just curious. Because, you know, I’m a writer and writers are perhaps the most curious bunch of people on the planet—including five-year-olds.
Given my recent experiences, does it stand to reason that someday I’ll write about an extended road trip? Yeah. Probably. Seems like a good idea for some far-off-distant day. Would you? Could you? Do you?
Would you eat green eggs and ham? Or would you hate them, Sam-I-Am?
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