Hoodie

Shut Down

2011-10-05T12:48:00.003-05:00

Hello Writing Friends-

I've come unveiled, so to speak. I will now do all of my blogging, writing and otherwise, at my home blog, www.readmethink.blogspot.com. Be aware that this blog encompasses all aspects of my life, including journaling, personal and family current events, rants, and the sharing of all my creative ventures.

Thanks for all the support!

Hoodie / Joni

Well, Hello Stranger

2010-05-07T22:27:00.002-05:00

I recently got a comment on my last post from Szelsofa wishing me happiness wherever I was.

So I decided to tell you where I am. Thank you, Szelsofa. You can take credit for bringing the blog back to life.

I don't know who'll even see this, but I just might show my face, so to speak, around the old stomping grounds. I've peeked in on you more than you may realize.

It's been 8 months since I posted. I think I stopped posting because after my pregnancy-induced hiatus I came back to blogging looking for the same community I'd known and it had kind of moved on. I think I was disappointed. I also think (make that know) that I was in a place in my life where I was overwhelmed and confused. Was writing even for me? It seemed I had misplaced my Mojo.

Fast forward to the present. My kids are currently 7, almost 5 and 16 months. We've got the routine nailed, I'm sleeping at night and this time it is I who have moved on. To great things.

My biggest news is that I am returning to college. When I got pregnant with my oldest I was just beginning my senior year at a state university as a Literary Studies major. Pregnancy was not what I anticipated and I found myself reluctantly dropping my classes after the first week due to such severe illness that I was missing too many lectures. After that, life just took me for a ride, one that didn't involve me going back to school. We moved 1500 miles away so my husband could attend grad school and by the time we made it back to my home state I had three kids.

The stars have re-aligned for me, however. If I take two classes at a time I will be able to graduate in spring of 2012.

My first class begins on Monday. I'm completely excited and nervous. Mostly nervous about how my being a student will throw off the routine we've nailed. But I feel confident in my path. It is my time.

Another tremendous landmark for me has been my joining of a wonderful organization called Bloomsbury. A non-profit organization patterned after the group of the same name that Virginia Woolf and her contemporaries started, it focuses on bringing like-minded women together to discuss, teach and learn. It's not quite a book club, not quite a writing club. More like a learning club. A renaissance club. I was actually approached by one of the founders to be a member of the original chapter. The coolest part is that she and I had never actually met before. She had only read my blog.

One example of how writing can really bring people together.

On a final note, I am anxiously looking forward to attending a two day writing class taught by Orson Scott Card in June. I've long admired his work. I hope that it will jump start some confidence in my writing.

And perhaps you will see more of me. Whoever you happen to be these days.

The World Keeps On Spinning

2009-08-04T22:36:00.003-05:00

I was just doing a bit of blog-surfing (a habit that has slipped significantly), just checking up on people, sniffing around.

I got on Jaye's blog and watched the first half hour of her little interview thingy. 1. I feel cool just knowing her. 2. She seems like the kind of person you want to chat into the AM hours with. 3. I realized just how little I know about the process of getting published.

Then I went to Jamie's blog where he talked about the Squaw Valley conference and how he's come full circle in three short years. 1. I feel cool just knowing him. 2. He just might be the best thing that's ever come out of Montana? 3. I realized that he's right, the world does keep on spinning. Whether you've become a NYT Best-selling author or if you've stumbled back however many baby steps you may have taken into the writing world.

I entered Jason's contest last month. Writing that piece was stiff and uncomfortable for me, but I entered it anyway because I had encouraged my sister-in-law to enter and didn't want to be a hypocrite. I didn't score tremendously well, but wasn't bothered by it. In the end I was pleased with the concept even if my execution was lacking.

I think I'm rambling, but I'm also unconcerned about that because I think I'm only getting readers by accident these days anyway.

I have always wanted to be a writer. I have always wanted to be published, not because I want to be famous or have money. I'm not that delusional.

I want to be a writer because I love books. I can imagine nothing more thrilling than looking at the spine of a book, fresh and smelling of the press, and seeing my name on it. Because that means a part of me, my ideas, my words, will be seen, be read, be hated or loved, but most of all, be known.

I've been trying to take a realistic look at my writing. I'm not doing a lot these days. This makes me sad. I could take the easy way out and say that having three small children has got me so bogged down I just don't have time. That would be convenient, but untrue.

I think I've stopped believing in myself. Or something. I'm trying to be honest with myself, but honestly assessing ones own skills and abilities is tricky business. We are all our own worst critics. But I would hate to be the writing equivalent of those poor souls on American Idol who really actually think they can sing and it's clear to everyone with ears that they can't.

I think I've discovered something about myself. With a lot of practice and lot of focus I think I can be a good writer. Good enough to get published? Who knows. That's always a gamble.

But.

I don't know if I'm a very good story-teller. I've had this one book idea circling my head like a vulture for two years and I've been waiting for the plot to pounce. I have the world in my mind. The characters. The basic story arc. It's the details I lack. What should happen in each scene. How the conflict plays out. I'm at a point where I think if I haven't been able to figure it out yet then how can I honestly expect to make it in the writing world?

I'm not writing here for encouragement. I'm just writing what I'm feeling.

At least it feels good to watch my fingers on the keyboard. To hear the click of the keys. If nothing else, I can keep writing for that.

Failure To Thrive

2009-06-04T15:41:00.005-05:00

I remember once when I was just on the cusp of teen-dom I got invited to a party. It was a party of all girls, but it was the first time I had been included with a particular group of what I deemed popular girls and I was very excited. I felt like I had climbed a rung on the social ladder.

This time in my life coincided with a blossoming awareness of my appearance. I had been fairly unconcerned with it up to this point, but I was coming to realize that a little lip gloss, a pair of earrings and some curl to my blunt-edged hair made a difference to how I was perceived.

So this was the night, a culmination of my sudden recent spurts of "growing up." I got all dolled up and remember curling my hair with marked excitement. Doors were opening, oh yes. I even put on mascara.

My mom had told me I could use the curling iron on the condition that I turned it off when I was done. Sure, Mom. Whatever you say.

I walked to the party, about 6 blocks away. Sure enough, there were all the popular girls and, to my smug delight, they didn't seem surprised that I would be there and I was quickly accepted into the heart of the conversation.

We did tweeny things. Talked about boys. A lot. Ate Twizzlers and Doritos. Gushed about each others clothes. It was pure heaven, with a strong current of laughter throughout.

Then my mom called. I had left the curling iron on. She wanted me to come home and turn it off. "Mom!" I protested. "Can't you just do it?"

I was informed we had made a deal. Apparently I had a lesson to learn. I could come home and turn off the iron and then return to the party or she was going to take me home to stay. Something about being reliable.

Feeling extremely mistreated I scuttled home, my curls bouncing all the way. I didn't even speak to my mother as I made a great show of flipping the tiny switch on the curling iron and heading back out the door.

By the time I returned to the party my curls were falling pretty flat. So was the party. A couple of girls had gone home. Everyone else was watching a movie that I had missed the first several minutes of and my return was barely acknowledged.

It just wasn't the same after I got back.

(sigh)

This time it wasn't a curling iron. It was a plain miserable cross-country move and then an even more miserable pregnancy.

Have I changed? Or did everybody else just shift without me?

I came back to Hoodie land and the party just wasn't here anymore. I know my efforts at reconnecting have been feeble, but having a Kindergartner, a three-year old Energizer Bunny and brand new baby have left me feeling less enthusiastic about anything but my shower and a pillow.

I guess I have changed a little.

So. Umm. I'm not really throwing in the towel. I'll still check in on y'all now and then, but I'm not going to feel guilty about not posting anymore. Sorry to the people who check in now and then. Both of you.

Keep on living the dream, my friends. Sorry I had to leave the party.

Artistic Overlap

2009-05-07T11:33:00.002-05:00

I consider myself a tad over mediocre in the creativity department, but drawing and painting have never been my strong suits.

My dad put me in charge of designing T-shirts for our huge extended family reunion this summer. I tried to enlist a couple of artist friends who politely declined. My family is notorious for groan-inducing cheesy slogans/pictures at family reunions and I wanted to shy away from that. It would seem from past reunions that only puns and rhymes were at our disposal.

So I decided to try my hand and see if I could possibly come up with something myself that didn't completely suck.

As I thought about the location where the reunion will be held I remembered that the last time we had a reunion there, about a decade ago, the big memorable event was when a large moose wandered through our camp. I decided to make the moose our mascot. After using a few pictures online as references, this is the picture I drew to go on the shirts.

Remember, I don't normally draw particularly well. I sketched this in pencil and utilized my eraser A LOT. It took me about 3 hours, including the family name which I cropped out of the picture. I can tell you, I haven't felt this proud about creating something in long long time.

You are now free to tell me how awesome I am.

"Yeah, Right!"

2009-04-20T10:16:00.004-05:00

My husband considers himself a lucky guy when he sends me to RedBox to pick out a movie and I come home with Hellboy II. I don't tell him it's because it's 7 PM on a Saturday night and the good stuff was taken and everything else was either college raunch or kiddie cheese. Besides, as with most fiction, I can usually always find something redemptive in a fantasy film. I'm dorky like that.

So we're watching the movie and there's a part where Hellboy is standing next to a row of lockers and the magic-smoke-guy is making all the lockers open and smack him all over. He then precedes to gradually fall down from the battery of locker doors, to which I emphatically replied, "Yeah, Right!"

My husband started laughing. "After all the stuff that has happened this seems incredible to you?"

"Yes," I said, "because two scenes ago he was fighting with a virtually indestructible troll-thing for a full two minutes and even though he was continuously pummeled and even lost a tooth he never once withered like he did just now from a couple of aluminum doors."

See, the problem wasn't that I found a magic-smoke-guy pushing locker doors open unbelievable. It was the fact that they didn't follow their own rules. This is such a basic concept in speculative fiction that I'm amazed how often, particularly in film, the rule gets broken. You can make anything happen in fiction. ANYTHING. But if you establish that your protagonist is strong enough to withstand blows that would kill any other mortal, without so much as a shake of the head, then you can't break that rule and have him wilt later at a series of much lesser blows. When you create a world you have to create its rules. It's the keeping of those rules that makes an audience able to suspend their disbelief.

Hellboy II is RedBox worthy, but don't pay more than a dollar to see it. The fantasy characters were intriguing (though I'm still wondering why the elves looked like vampires) but the action fell flat.

Language Killed the Story

2009-04-13T22:55:00.004-05:00

When it comes to fiction I'm generally a cup-half-full kind of gal. Even when a story might not be right up my alley I'm usually able to find a measure of enjoyment in it and appreciate that it is probably right up someone else's. (Why does that sound vulgar?) I usually find something to applaud no matter what the content or style and very rarely have a beef with the author's choices. Even if it's not my favorite, I can concede that it might be someone else's.

I recently finished reading Prospero's Children by Jan Siegel. I found the story to be fascinating and I was very impressed with her grasp of language.

Until that grasp became so strong it was like a choke hold. My beef with this book was that Seigel clearly has the ability to write an enthralling book, but used so much muscle in the vocab department that it tipped the scale from impressive to irritating. The language and sentence composition became so ornate that I found myself wallowing through the text instead of gliding though it. Her lovely story was overshadowed by the flower in her words. Seigel is plainly talented and without doubt highly intelligent.

But, in some cases, just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Nevermind

2009-04-08T23:25:00.003-05:00

Overly ambitious? I guess.

Contest is cancelled. Sorry to anyone who might have considered entering at the last minute. How do you pick a winner from one or two entries?

2009-04-06T11:40:00.003-05:00

Aw, now you're just hurting my feelings.

It's only 250 words, friends.

I retract my minimum of 15 entries. I'll settle for one or two. Your chances of winning are really high. :)

I'm Back, Baby! (WRITING CONTEST)

2009-04-01T17:28:00.006-05:00

The hiatus is over and I'm ready to party! In honor of my re-immersion into bloggerdom I'm hosting my first ever writing contest. Tantalized? Read on, my friend.

The welcoming of hoodlet number 3 into my life has made me feel somewhat introspective and I find all my writey-thoughts simmering in the non-fiction area of my brain.

In general I'm not drawn to books biographical in nature. I think that's mainly due to the fact that so many of them read like textbooks. I'm not engaged.

My favorite non-fiction book, however, is just as enjoyable to read as good fiction. It is a memoir by Haven Kimmel called A Girl Named Zippy. It's always one of the first books I recommend to someone looking for something to read. The way Miss Kimmel writes about her childhood in rural Indiana is so sly, witty and poignant. Perky.

SO - In order to generate some excitement here in Hoodie-land, clear away some cobwebs and string up some cyber-crepe paper the contest rules are as follows-

Write a flash memoir of 250 words or less. Submit your entry to hoodiewriter(at)yahoo(dot)com by midnight Thursday April 9. The content can be anything as long as you are writing from personal experience and judging will be based simply on how engaging I find it. Basically if I like it a lot, you win. Pretty scientific, huh? Entries will be posted on this blog and comments are encouraged. And since I'm all about expanding the personal library, the winner will receive a new copy of Haven Kimmel's A Girl Named Zippy. I'll also choose 2 Honorable Mentions who, sadly, won't receive a prize, but will have that warm, honorable feeling about being mentioned.

There is a catch, however - There must be at least 15 entries for there to be a winner. Also, for every additional 10 entries above the minimum I will choose an additional winner. So, 25 entries or more equals 2 winners, 35 or more will produce 3, etc. So you see, it is in your best interest to get the word out.

Oh yeah, and in honor of my sweet, new, little thing, your entry must contain in it, somewhere, the word "baby."

Contest starts NOW!

On Your Mark... Get Set..

2009-03-14T22:32:00.003-05:00

Okay my dear friends. I've been away too long.

The hoodlet is nearly 8 weeks old and I'm itching for some interaction and some brain-exercise. So as I sit on the cusp of a full return I'm making plans for the blog. I hope to regenerate some activity and perhaps even expand my circle of associates.

Consider yourself warned.

I'll be back very soon.

Romance - The Dying Art

2009-02-13T16:56:00.004-06:00

At least it's dead in my sphere. Not that I think it can't be revived, mind you, but, in general, as a relationship's teeth get longer the wick of the flame seems to get shorter.

Probably anyone who reads this will do so after Valentine's Day, but keeping in the spirit of romance I thought I'd share what I consider my most romantic experience. Alas, this didn't happen with my husband. He falls more on the side of sweet and considerate than the traditional romantic, which is okay by me. Though romantic isn't necessarily the first word I use to describe him getting up with the baby in the night, I'll take it over flowers and chocolate any day. I usually find most romantic overtures cheesy, but everyone needs at least one good romantic memory.

Anyway, when I was nearly 17 I had a big crush on a very good-looking boy. We seemed to have developed a nice friendship, but I wasn't really catching any signals that he wanted it to go any further than that. One evening he showed up at my house unannounced. He asked if I would go for a drive with him. This seemed an odd request seeing as how it was snowing very hard and the roads looked covered with a thick layer of white frosting. Of course any potential danger was completely outweighed by the fact that cute guy wanted me to hang out with him. I grabbed my coat.

As it turns out we didn't drive far. He took me to a middle school parking lot and asked me to get out. Umm, okay. The snow was sifting through a purple sky in giant puffy flakes. I remember being amazed at that silent purple sky. It felt like a magical place. Cute boy opened the trunk of his car to reveal a giant speaker, then he turned on a tape he'd made for the occasion, walked up to me hand outstretched and asked me to dance. I felt breathless as he put his arms around me, the cold air urging us closer. We didn't speak. We danced, his warm breath on my neck. After two songs we got back in the car. He held my hand for a moment but didn't say anything. He just looked at me. He just looked at me. And then he took me home.

I thought something would happen between us after that. When I hinted to him about that being a turning point in our relationship he gave me a very cryptic answer that hinted towards his real feelings for me but told me that, for now, friendship was all I was getting. And that's all I ever did get.

But I will never be able to hear this song or this song without seeing that beautiful purple sky.

What was your most romantic moment?

Woot!

2009-02-03T11:44:00.002-06:00

About three years ago I decided I was ready to take a big step. I wanted to more fully pursue writing, learn more, try harder and, for the first time, share with others.

Before that time I had kept everything I'd ever written pretty close.

I wasn't quite sure where to start, but I figured I'd go online and search around a bit. I found a forum for writers that seemed pretty friendly and supportive. Unfortunately it was also pretty dead. Not a lot of action.

There was one guy on there, however, who noticed my newbieness, welcomed me and let me know about an online writing contest that was happening that week.

It was at this site called "Clarity of Night." I looked at it and found that the deadline to the contest was that evening. With shaky nerves I typed up an entry and sent it within the hour. I was nervous to know I might receive feedback from other writers, but eager for it. It was a giant step for me. I knew I was a novice writer, but I was ready to put myself out there. I wasn't growing keeping everything to myself.

I was astounded and shocked when I was awarded fourth place in that contest. I can still remember the euphoria and validation. Because of this I was confident enough to begin interacting with some of the other writers, so many of whom just floored me with their talent. I watched for an entry from the kind soul who had notified me about the contest, but he never entered.

He had, however, won the previous contest.

I followed his sinfully clever blog, commenting now and then. It was thrilling to follow his writing process as he worked on his first novel and then became published.

I'm sure you're all familiar with Jamie. He's a wrecking ball force in the blogosphere community of writers I like to think I'm a part of now. This is a big congrats to him and a "thank you" for introducing me to Jason and, subsequently, pretty much all the other writers I blog with. I finished the book yesterday and give it my most high praise. It is simply beautiful.

To those of you who have yet to read it, go to the bookstore right now. You won't regret it.

Hoodlet

2009-01-23T13:00:00.002-06:00

I FINALLY had my baby on Monday. What a long road. She definitely made me work for it. I delivered at 39 weeks on the dot and she weighed 9lbs, 6 oz, measuring a whopping 23.5 inches. She's adorable and healthy and sleeps better than my other babies did. Now I'm just trying to regain my balance before I step back into regular life. All is well. I'm discovering that the hardest part about number 3 is trying to figure out what to do with numbers 1 and 2.

I feel terribly that I missed Jason's contest. I wanted so badly to enter, but I was coming up with nothing. At that point the only thing on my mind was the fact that I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe, I could barely walk and PUPPP is the one of the suckiest ailments ever. For those of you uniformed that's a rash common in pregnancy that itches like crazy. Still waiting for that one to go away.

For those of you who entered, way to go. I'm sure I'll get around to reading your entries eventually.

Until later...

Turn, Turn, Turn...

2008-12-02T11:08:00.003-06:00

Yes, to everything there is a season. A time to laugh, a time to cry-

A time to write, a time to be so thoroughly exhausted by the nothingness of everyday that all you can think about is sitting down and closing your eyes for a moment and maybe if you stop breathing through your nose the poopy diaper that needs to be changed will just go away.

NaNoWriMo came to an abrupt stop for me when my husband left the country for the last half of the month of November. We shifted into pure survival mode (and when I say survival mode I mean eating and drinking enough to stay alive. Everything else fell away). I got to about 12,000 words, which is painfully shy of where I thought I'd end up, but 4,000 more words than I got to last year. And the idea developed much more this time. It is a project I will revisit.

Anyway, I've got about as much creativity in my brain as.... see, I can't even think of a good analogy. No creativity.

So I'm not going to pretend anymore. Instead of leaving all 2 of my faithful readers with the impression that I just might update the blog, I will officially go on hiatus until after this baby is born and I'm sleeping more than 3 hours a night. I will be sure to post when the blessed event occurs, just to keep y'all in my loop. Expect that in January.

When I do return, hoodie donned and rarin' to go, you can expect me to become an active part of the community again, like the good old days.

Until then, my friends, this is not goodbye. Just "until we meet again."

And for those of you morbid enough to care, I leave you with a photo of my current state-

Slow and steady.... what does it do again?

2008-11-13T09:14:00.003-06:00

Well, here we are almost two weeks into NaNoWriMo. The bad news is that I'm almost hopelessly behind at just over 10k words. The good news, I'm sticking to it and making whatever progress I can. And, amazingly, I haven't given up that I can still make the final word count. I'll just have to write like a crazy person a few days to get caught up. We'll see.

In the comment section of my last post Beth said she can't imagine anything I write sucking. While I find that a thrilling compliment, I can assure you that not only can I write stuff that sucks, I'm quite adept at it. I'm not kidding. There was one point where I honestly wasn't sure what the main character should do next and I was exhausted. So the MC watched Oprah, ate cold cereal and took a nap. BORING. But it got me to the word count I wanted that day.

However, I've written at least one scene that gets me excited, so WOOT for that.

A famous author once wrote that you have at least a million words of garbage to write before anything truly wonderful comes out. I don't know if that's entirely true, but I get what he's saying. 990,000 to go! :)

Kickin' It at the Kick Off

2008-11-03T12:55:00.002-06:00

One of my children's favorite DVDs is about a boy who is saving all of his money for weeks to buy new computer chips for his fighter robot. The more chips, the more power. He goes to the store to stare longingly at the display window, dragging his best friend along. His friend protests the pointless trips as he is not nearly so enamored with the robot games. The boy wanting the new chips pleads with his friend in a Vader-ish voice, "Come now, give in to the dork side."

This is kind of how I felt this past weekend. The NaNoWriMo kick off party in my area was so close to my house I felt guilty about the thought of not attending. Plus there was going to be pizza. When I pictured the types of people who might be there I wasn't really envisioning other people "like me." I let my mental picture be completely stereotypical. I won't tell you what I was picturing, but I will tell you that I went and found that my stereotype was almost completely correct. But you know what? I just went along with it and gave into my own dork side. I had a pretty good time. I didn't meet any lifelong friends, but it was fun to feel a part of something. And I won a door prize. Probably the best thing I took from it was how everyone really really had low expectations of what they could churn out in a month and it was OKAY. That was what stopped me cold last year. I couldn't believe how crappy it was. But this year I'm wading through the crap and just enjoying myself. Low and behold, I'm almost 5k into it on the third day.

I just might do it!

Happy Halloween Everyone!

2008-10-30T10:45:00.002-05:00

We generally don't get into Halloween all that much, but since the kids are getting older we're trying to make sure we have some fun traditions at this holiday time. We try to accentuate the fun and the silly rather than the scary. We don't really like scary at our house.

And of course, any excuse to have candy is okay by me. Do any of you have any fun Halloween traditions besides the standard pumpkin carving and Trick-or-Treating?

I must be insane

2008-10-28T14:00:00.003-05:00

I'm sorry. I don't write. When I don't write I don't blog. Right now, I grow. And growing seems to be enough.

But I'm changing all that. My husband is leaving the country for half of November and I'm terrified. As it is I'm barely keeping daily life flowing. So, heck, why not add NaNoWriMo to the To Do list while I'm solely responsible for 2.5 kids and a home?

At least I'm excited about something.

If I write anything that isn't crap, I'll share.

Good luck, fellow WriMos.

Corner Rounder

2008-09-29T15:37:00.002-05:00

I've got myself a tool

In my little box for crafts

It takes the ugly points

Off paperscraps and photographs

For on the page and in your art

It's roundness that you want

With polka dots and curlyQs

And softly scripted font

The curves and waves and rounded lace

Are beautiful to see

So why do I feel so ugly

Now someone's corner rounded me!

13 years

2008-09-22T14:25:00.003-05:00

Today is the Anniversary. The one that slaps me in the face with memories. She was my friend, she was my niece, but she could have been my sister. She was almost 15. I was 16. It was my first experience with death.

I'd watched the cancer suck her away bit by bit for four years. First her hand, then her breasts, small and budding as they were, then, finally, her lungs. She was always so delicate to begin with, but with that coy smile and the thick chestnut hair she'd never cut in her life until the chemo started. The cancer made her more fragile, like a pristine doll, her long fingernails her one grasp on beauty.

As children she laughed shyly at my jokes and giggled at our dress up play. We meticulously taught each other how to recreate our most prized artistic creations. We always slept in the same bed during visits.

While she was sick, my parents planned our hospital visits around when I would be sure to come, though I didn't know that at the time. She languished in her strange bed, but she listened and watched me and I tried to laugh. I began to mourn long before she passed.

I always believed she would live. She endured so much during the four years of her fight that I was sure she'd always come out on top. She was doing well, even dancing again and attending school, when we got the call to make the five hour drive as quickly as possible.

I didn't realize how close death was hovering. Her lips were dark beneath her oxygen mask, her eyes rolling in her head. I held her hand, waiting for her to notice I was there. I was alone with her for about 15 minutes, stroking those long nails and listening to her staggered breath. My pain was present, but isolated somewhere beyond me. I waited for her to show some comprehension before I told her I loved her, that she was my friend.

She began to struggle and I left the room in fear, calling for my sister. I went outside. My dad was showing my nephew how to shoot a BB gun. 5 minutes. When I went back inside everyone was crying, saying "At least she's not in pain anymore." My pain still lingered outside myself. I knew it was there, but I couldn't touch it. I'd been the last one before her mother to be with her before she passed.

I went in to see her. There she was, just where I'd left her, but she wasn't there anymore. That was clear. I expected her to look peaceful. She just looked dead. It took a while to cry. When the pain finally came gushing in, I thought it would never go away.

She taught me about death. She made me realize that I really do believe that I'll see her again. I don't mourn for her, but for those she left. I mourn for my sister, who might have had grandbabies by now.

She would be nearing her 28th birthday today. With every year the woman I am and the girl she was grow further apart, but I truly know in my heart that she is accomplishing something great just beyond my sight. She is a beautiful soul. She is my Moriah.

Girl Power

2008-09-09T18:35:00.002-05:00

Today I fell in love. It was the strangest thing. What was before such a huge burden finally feels like a blessing.

I saw my baby on ultrasound today, which is also my pregnancy hump day (fitting name). I saw my little girl. Her femur, her spine and all four chambers of her little heart were absolutely beautiful. Today the pregnancy stopped being about me and started being about her. I am finally excited.

I'm having a baby girl!

I feel exhilarated. And on the writing side, I've made it a goal to write every day again. I'd left all my passions alone for awhile. Something inside me is waking up.

I'm trying to be back

2008-08-08T11:13:00.002-05:00

Have you given up on me yet? I don't blame you. I've almost given up on myself. Heaven help me, this summer has been a difficult one. I'm still in the nausea zone, but definitely functioning at a higher level. I'm almost 16 weeks along in my pregnancy, which is generally the cutoff point, so I'm crossing my fingers that by this time next week I'll be in the clear.

So I haven't been doing much. Not even writing because I'm just not feeling it. But I have been reading... a lot. I had the opportunity of reading a book by a relative of my husbands. It's her first published novel and it was cool to see her last name on the spine (since it is also my last name). She has been a High School English teacher for many years.

While I generally enjoyed the book, she committed what, to me, has always been a fiction writing faux pas. I was surprised when she skipped from one point of view to another willy nilly. I was always taught that if you are going to change point of view there needs to be, at the very least, a break in the text and works most effectively at chapter breaks. I'll give you an example. This is just me making something up, but it represents the kind of things I read in her book.

"Susan watched Bob from afar as he blew the hair from his eyes with a crooked smile. She knew he couldn't possibly be interested in her, but hadn't he been making eye contact with her all evening? His gaze met hers once more and she immediately looked away, feeling her cheeks flush. Her hands flew to her mouth, then retracted as she consciously kept herself from chewing her nails. He was definitely looking at her. She knew his reputation, but couldn't help the fact that his blue eyes made her heart race. Why would he possibly be paying any attention to her? Bob knew that he was making this girl flustered and he enjoyed it. He'd been eyeing her secretly for weeks. His friends would never let him live it down if they knew how much he dug her. What they couldn't know was that he had more in mind than just romance."

That was just some nonsense I just spewed, but it illustrates what I'm talking about.

So, what do you think? Are there hard set rules that really should never be broken in fiction, or does artistic license trump all?

Public Enema No.1

2008-07-29T13:31:00.004-05:00

***Yes, this is actually a post about my first experience with an enema***

***Gentle Reader, proceed at your own risk***

I took a completely unintentional hiatus there, but assure you that I'm alive and kicking (well, something's kicking). The fog of first trimester nausea, while not gone, has begun to lift so that I may once again view the world around me. I will tell you - It has sucked. I also regret having missed one of Jason's contests. Next time. Next time.

I had a milestone experience over the weekend. We were visiting family and I was so excited to be somewhere other than my couch for the first time in months. But while the social outlet was finally flowing, something else was not. Without my realizing it, four factors had come into play at once-

1. I'm pregnant, ere go, I'm constipated.

2. The anti-nausea medication I take also makes me constipated.

3. I had run out of the fiber pills I'd been taking daily, not realizing just how much good they must have doing me.

4. I had resumed taking prenatal vitamins since the waning nausea helped me keep them down. I'd forgotten they're packed full of iron, which, unfortunately, can cause constipation.

Since being a little backed up has been been a fact of life for the past few months, I did have some suppositories on hand for times of extreme cloggedness. But they were at my house over the weekend. 100 miles away.

Saturday I started counting-1..2.. hey it's been at least four days since I've had any BM action. No wonder I don't feel so good down there. So I decided to just try. And try I did. For a very long time. After 30 minutes all I had succeeded in producing was red toilet paper. But now I was feeling very dire. I'd got the thing to the door and it was staying there. I needed help. Right away. I sent DH to the grocery store. "No laxatives, no suppositories. I need an enema."

Minutes later, product in hand, I headed to the bathroom. I wasn't scared until I read the directions. The illustrations alone were enough to keep a 12 year old boy cackling for days. But I diligently followed the guidelines and waited until "the urge to evacuate was strong." This did not take long. Less than a minute.

What happened next, well, it was excruciating. I was already sore from previous attempts, but this was no joke. I was in it. Gut wrenching spasms had me panting and clenching. And then, Augustus Gloop was stuck in the chamber, the pressure building, building, building behind him. It was so painful. And then he was set free. Voila. I'd given birth to a soup can.

I can say that the only thing more traumatic that has ever happened to my nether regions was actual childbirth. My poor muscles hurt for hours. It was awful.

Lesson learned. Take the fiber. Take the fiber. Take the fiber.

Viper

2008-06-17T11:52:00.005-05:00

Insidious

The viper coils low in my stomach

Releasing its poison

In a slow-burn

Growing, Consuming

Succumbing, I grovel and bow

Strike

Moist skin against cold tile

The serpent sleeps

But the poison burns

The poison burns

Delicacy 101

2008-06-06T16:08:00.002-05:00

Okay folks, on the pregnancy front I am feeling like absolute CRAP, but I've got a dr. appointment on Tuesday and I'm crossing my fingers about a new "miracle" drug that has become available since my last pregnancy that is supposed to make the nausea subside. I'll keep you posted. Right now I'm keeping down about 30% of my total intake of nutrients. We are telling some family this weekend, so maybe that will feel...rewarding/exciting/fun?

I need some advice about something else though. We have lived in this house for almost two months now. This is a very close knit "everybody knows everybody" neighborhood. Our next door neighbor has a little girl the same age as my little girl and they play together quite often. Sounds great, right? Well, I'm becoming more and more concerned with the situation. Especially since I've been ill, I confided in this neighbor that I probably would not be inviting her daughter over much this summer because I'm feeling so poorly. To be honest I'm thrilled with that prospect. I did not enjoy her presence. Now this little girl invites my little girl (and subsequently my younger son) over almost every day. They think they're helping me out. Normally I would consider this quite helpful, but this family- I don't know how to describe them without sounding extremely judgmental. Oh well. They are dirty. My kids come home crying almost every time either because they've been physically hurt or got hurt feelings. There is no discipline, no boundaries and it's becoming apparent that there is no supervision. This concerns me considerably. My son is 2. My daughter is 5. They come home dirty and unhappy and sometimes violent after playing with this little girl. A little girl who shows up at my door wearing a swimsuit, cowboy boots and mittens. A little girl, who at any random time of day, might be found standing conspicuously in my backyard with her hands down her pants.

The mother insists that she's happy to have them over. I'm sure she does! It lets her off the hook. I have no idea what she is doing while my kids are over there, but I'm not the kind of person to accuse her of being negligent to her face.

So what do I do? I'd rather have my kids here, bored out of their minds while Mommy is comatose on the couch than play with this little girl. But the relationship has been established. I can't avoid these people. They go to my church, they live just a few yards away, they come over every single day.

I'm worried about my kids. It's the first time I've been uncomfortable with the thought of having them in the care of someone else. What do I do?

My New Best Friend

2008-06-02T16:24:00.000-05:00

2008-05-28T12:36:00.000-05:00

Holy Crap.

The test is positive.

I'm in shock.

Who Shall Mourn the Mourning Dove?

2008-05-18T20:18:00.002-05:00

The imprint of death

The lonely corpse, scavenged by ants

The crazy thing is, this couldn't be a case of Windex Syndrome. My blinds were closed.

Crazy Kamikaze Bird.

Characters with Faces

2008-05-07T16:55:00.006-05:00

I've been feeling excited about the book lately and to help me visualize the characters I wasted entirely too much time surfing the net looking for photos of my cast. The kids watched PBS. This is so much fun for me. I also did about 2 hours of research on locations and logistics. Part of my book happens in Santa Barbara and I've decided I'm just going to have to go there to get a real feel for it. :) We'll see about that.

I actually don't plan on doing a lot of extensive physical description. A bit here and there, for guidance. But I think it's cool when the reader forms their own picture. These pictures were chosen for expression as much as anything and to help me picture them as I write.

Anyway, meet my characters:

The main character, Derek, definitely shares some features with Cillian Murphy. The dark hair and blue, heavy-lidded eyes makes him a bit of an enigma. He is attractive, but with a certain melancholy to his face. However, Derek looks more Polynesian (way less Irish), so I liked this photo as well. Kind of a Polynesian Hayden Christiansen.

When I saw this photo I KNEW it was Derek's love interest, Tali. Gorgeous, but with self-possessed intelligence. The kind of girl who is beautiful, but unconcerned about it.

Tali's father (who yet remains unnamed) plays a crucial role in the story. He is large and kind and just happens to need a few tattoos. (Although he doesn't dance with fire or wear traditional Polynesian clothing)

Derek's mother, though absent for much of the story, plays one of the most pivotal roles. She was one of the first that solidified in my mind. Her hair has always been the forefront physical feature in my mind. She is gentle but very strong-willed and the wisest of all the characters (besides the blue whale, but we won't get into that). Yes, Diana Ross in this picture is the very essence of Jenel. (Though Jenel wears no makeup)

Antonio Banderes without the accent makes a great Rork, Derek's father.

Stevan is my antagonist. He is very charismatic and handsome and his features must be strong, but he is power-hungry and cruel. Dark hair is a must. I don't know who to base him after. Any suggestions?

Winner

2008-05-06T10:49:00.003-05:00

The winner of last week's contest is....

Aine!!

I had my unbiased hubby pull the name from a basket.

So Aine, let me know if you want the book, Ender's Game, or the $5 at Amazon.

Thanks to those who answered. Those were some great picks.

Tagged

2008-05-02T10:07:00.003-05:00

Struggling Writer tagged me for the Random 7 meme. You all know how it goes, I'm sure. I post 7 random/weird things about myself.

1. I have the pointiest tongue of anyone I've ever met. It's like a skewer.

2. Even in my youth running has always been difficult for me. I just seem to get exhausted before everyone else. After having an EKG done last fall my doctor suspects I have a thickened heart wall, which makes my heart have to pump harder to keep oxygenated blood flowing. Knowing this new limitation is validating and I'm now training (slowly) for a 5K. This is a huge deal for me. Yesterday it took me 48 minutes to do 3 miles, 25 of which I spent running.

3. I broke my leg when I was three, my shoulder in 3rd grade, my arm in 4th grade and my wrist in 5th grade. All through the 6th grade we kept our fingers crossed and I did actually end up in the emergency room for what we thought was another broken bone. Moral of the story? Drink your milk, kids.

4. When I was 17 I was in a play and on closing night it was pouring rain. A huge puddle had formed in the parking lot of my school and my friends and I played in it until we soaked through. Then I realized I had to take my friend and myself home. To avoid soaking my car seats we stripped down to our underwear. The moisture from our bodies made the car fog up and it was raining so hard I couldn't see the lines on the road. I wasn't sure if I was more afraid of getting in an accident or getting pulled over while wearing nothing but see-through underwear. Luckily, I did neither, but it was a nerve-wrecking drive.

5. I have auditioned for American Idol twice.

6. I brush my teeth in bed almost every night. I never rinse after brushing my teeth because I like to keep the fluoride on them, so it has sort of evolved that my husband brings me my toothbrush in bed while he's brushing his own teeth.

7. In 1999 my best friend won the MTV show called Say What Karaoke. For part of his prize he got to go the Y2K MTV party with a guest and he took me. This photo is from the MTV archives. I'm the girl on the front row who looks like she just heard a good joke. I think I was thinking (Holy Crap, Christina Aguilera is RIGHT THERE.) I also touched Gwen Stefani's shoes that night and the shirts of all the members of Blink 182. Good times.

Also, this is your last day to post a comment on the next post to be entered for the prize! I'm not tagging anyone, but if you think this meme is fun then do it. (I think it's fun.)

I'm BA-aack!

2008-04-28T10:52:00.009-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

First of all, yesterday was my birthday. As many of you know, my sweet sweet man compiled a book of tributes, memories, compliments, etc. from my family and friends. All in all he was able to get 64 individual contributors! I was especially touched that he took to the time to seek out some of my blogger writing buddies. Thank you to those who included your thoughts and well wishes. It was the most amazing gift I've ever been given. What a superb day. I wish I could bottle that feeling. I need a bumper sticker that says "My Man is Sweeter than Your Man."

We're in. The house is put together and we are finally feeling normal again. Soooo, that means Hoodie's back in business. I'm having honest to goodness withdrawals. I miss my associations in the blogosphere and my creative juices have gone rancid with no outlet. My NaNoWriMo book which was pushed even further back than just the back burner has been niggling its way back into my mind, with fresh ideas in tow, and I find myself feeling excited about returning to that project. I've got some plotting to do, but leaving the idea to stew a while has been beneficial.

So, to celebrate my return, I'm having a contest. It's very easy. In the comment section leave me your answer to this question.

If you had only one fiction book to lend to family and friends, what would it be AND WHY?

My answer would be Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. I really like Science Fiction, but have a hard time with hardcore SciFi that seems to focus more on the Sci than the Fi. Heinlen and Asimov are too much for me, no matter how hard I try to enjoy them. I'm always drawn to character stories over idea or milieu stories. Of all the books I've ever read, this is the one I come back to over and over again. Card's writing style appeals to me greatly. There are some of his books I like more than others, but I've enjoyed them all. He has an ability to interject humanity into the most outrageous of circumstances. It really draws me in.

So, if you leave me a comment with your answer by this Friday, May 2 at 7 PM, you will be entered in a drawing. Winner comes away with your choice of a spankin' new paperback copy of Ender's Game or $5 at Amazon.

Okay, GO!

Bloggers!

2008-03-31T15:27:00.002-05:00

My family of four (1/2 of which is 5 or under) have been living in one bedroom in my sister's basement for three weeks. (Add up all the numbers in that sentence and get a prize!) We've endured an array of viral illnesses during that time and my insomnia has come in like a lion (much like the entire month of March here; A fresh layer of snow arrived last night).

However, if life really is a highway then we have left the orange cones behind and set the cruise to a comfortable speed. We found a house and will be in it in less than two weeks. My sister and her family are out of town, which decreases the stress levels in the house and all the hard parts of the moving process are over. I'm really looking forward to our new location which will be 5 miles from DH's office and .5 miles from the elementary school.

If you've not seen a comment from me on your blog, however, it's not my fault. My sister has internet controls set and if content requirements are not met, I can't access certain sites. Chris, Jaye, Vanilla, Minx and others, I shave my finger with my other finger at you.

Two little weeks, baby. I can't wait.

Pack It Up

2008-03-07T15:42:00.002-06:00

Well, first I'm thrilled to have landed fifth place in Jason's recent contest. What a confidence booster.

Now the real fun begins. Today is packing day. I'm surrounded by mounds of boxes, moving supplies and piles of stuff that leave me wondering, "what the heck do I do with this?"

So, until I've found myself another house (we'll be living with family for a couple of weeks) I don't really plan on posting. I will have computer access, so I'll try to visit y'all. But consider me officially on hiatus.

So I leave you with a question to fill your days with ponderings until our next contact:

What do you consider your best training for writing? Where have you honed your skills? School? Critique groups? I want to know what has had the biggest impact on your learning to write. Feel free to expound liberally.

I did it.

2008-02-26T14:38:00.002-06:00

With all the shanigans and goings on (read sucky moving) I was in possession of enough brain cells to throw together an entry for the contest. My posting will admittedly be sparse for the next month or so, but don't write me off completely. I'll still visit ya'll now and then and I promise to get back in the swing when I'm no longer homeless. :)

2008-02-21T11:02:00.002-06:00

9 days on the market. We're feeling very very blessed.

Now I can focus on packing and moving.

And entering Jason's contest.

News That Moves Me

2008-02-11T14:56:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry to have been absent.

Remember this post?

Answers have come forward. It's actually pretty funny.

My husband had been looking at a job possibility and we had told some local friends about it. We know them through church and they knew us well enough to know that taking a new job and moving far away is something that we would consult God about through prayer. Our clever little friend sent the letter in an effort to humorously cast a vote about whether we would take the job or stick around. He just did such a good job that I didn't consider it to be them. Once we found out it was their doing the letter went from strange to quite hilarious.

Alas, however, my husband was offered this job and we have decided to take it. Right now he works in public accounting which anyone familiar with the field will tell you is a high stress/many hours job. It's not all that family friendly. So he has taken a job with a private company 900+ miles away. Fewer hours, more money and much closer to our families. It's pretty win/win.

However, they need him right away. So he will begin work there in two weeks and the kids and I will move out two weeks after that. In the past few days it's been a mad scramble to get the house on the market, get it showable and take care of many many details so that all will sail smoothly in a few weeks. We are excited and stressed. The job will be great, but the transition makes me a little nervous.

I shall try not to leave you postless.

2008-01-29T15:04:00.000-06:00

A Day From…

Eyes are open
But there is no light
The sky is rippled with the colors of shadow
And despair
The journey of one moon has brought with it
The Underworld
Superimposed on my own

Brimstone of ice
Scorching cold
Wind’s fierce breath in my hair
Searing my skin
His coarse groan whispering in my ear

Ghosts of ice
Misty mignons across my path
The bottom-feeders of Hell
Float in their onward dance
For souls to claim
Wanderers with malicious intent

Fractured grass
Frozen in its brittle pain
Pushes through rough ice
The world awash with death

Out of sight in the haze and fog
The devil himself plays among skeletal trees
Whipping Wind into an angry frenzy
Grinding Temperature into submission
Until suffering is universal

This day

January 29
Belongs to Hell

What The...

2008-01-24T19:23:00.000-06:00

We got this letter in the mail today. We are completely perplexed. I originally scanned it, but the file was huge and it had my last name on it (gasp!) so I'll just type it up for you.

Prayer Answering Service, LLC
PO Box (number)
Omaha NE (zip)

Date: January 20, 2008

Dear Mr. and Mrs. (Hoodie)

Thank you for your recent multiple requests through our service. Sometimes it can be difficult to make big life-changing decisions and fortunately our business operates with the intention to help individuals and families who find themselves in situations such as your own.

We have taken into consideration all of the facts, circumstances, and intangibles and have decided to answer your prayer in the following manner:

YES

NO X

If you have any further needs, questions, or complaints please direct them through our customer service department that is open all the time.

Sincerely,
(completely illegible scribble)
Clerk # 51

What do you make of this?

Lost and Found

2008-01-23T10:45:00.000-06:00

Ever find money in a pair of pants or a coat pocket? Awesome feeling right?

I found something even cooler. I put on a jacket I hadn't worn for a while and inside one of the pockets was a folded up piece of paper. After reading its contents, I was able to remember writing this weird little snippet in my daughters notebook and then ripping it out and putting it in my pocket so no one else would find it. I don't really remember what sparked this or where I was going with it, but I vaguely recall thinking it stunk, which is probably why I didn't continue it. Anyway, I thought I'd share, in it's completely unedited version, this short little piece of fiction from days gone by.

(Untitled)

A lady knows how to get what she wants. A gentlemen knows how to give it to her. The words didn't stray far from the girls scarlet lips as she repeated them continuously, pacing under the lattice work of limbs from the tree. Shiny curls bounced against porcelain cheeks as the long grass flattened beneath chunky heels.

"Even the greatest fool would have seen the choice was clearly carrot cake," she sputtered, subconsciously smoothing her blouse. A crystalline tear caught the hazy sunlight as she stopped and stared imploringly at the trunk of the tree. "How could he do that to me?" she wondered aloud. "I mean, cheesecake?" Her arms folded across an ample bosom as a betrayed bottom lip spilled outward.

The sun grazed the distant fields as she continued her dignified pout. Then, resolutely she pulled out a slim pocketknife, hilt in ivory, and carved a precise line next to others on the trunk and stomped off, determined the number 33 was the gentlemen she was after.

The Answer!

2008-01-18T16:00:00.000-06:00

I asked you all to guess which of the five pictures in the post below was me.

Here were the voting results:

#1 - 1 vote

#2 - 0 votes (what, nobody thinks I'm a veterinarian?)

#3 - 2 votes

#4 - 3 votes

#5 - 2 votes

I found all these pictures by googling my first name. The four that aren't me I've never met.

So, I'm not as old as the lady in the first picture, though when I am I hope to look that good. She doesn't really look old at all, but she is clearly older than me.

You all are right than I'm not a veterinarian or a vet's assistant.

I'm not blonde, although I've dyed my hair so many times I'm not sure what the exact shade of my natural color is. A mousy brown, methinks.

And lastly, I don't wear heavy eye makeup and regrettably find myself achingly far from any beaches. Though that girl's blonde streak is similar to something I'm sporting right now.

Yes, I am indeed number 4. Part of me regrets revealing what I look like, dashing the mystery I was becoming comfortable in. But I know how much I like knowing others and felt it was time to offer a little more of myself to my limited, yet oh-so-loyal, readers.

Y'all are my friends.

And friends should know each other.

This photo was taken at my husband's company Christmas party where I was named reigning karaoke queen and my husband and I were dubbed best dance couple. It was a good night.

Under the Hood

2008-01-13T20:09:00.000-06:00

Sometimes after I read a book I look at the picture of the author on the cover and think, "yeah, that's exactly what I thought they'd look like." Other times, the picture is nothing like the mental picture I'd developed.

Funny how the simple choice and construction of words on a page (or screen) can give you a subconscious picture of what someone may or may not look like.

Here's a little fun for y'all.

I'm coming unveiled. Sort of.

Let's have a vote. All of these people have the same first name. Which one is me?

2008-01-08T14:28:00.000-06:00

On the writing front, I've got nothing for you right now.

That makes me sad.

I'm not writing much lately. My world is filled with runny noses, dirty diapers, juice spills, bubble baths, laundry mountains, sippy cups, macaroni and cheese, crackers in the carpet, story reading, floors that need sweeping, sheets that need changed, Candyland, Thomas the Tank Engine, Strawberry Shortcake, booster seats, mittens, Did you brush your teeth?, Don't sit on your brother's head!, No more books in the toilet!, the clean-up song, etc. etc. etc.

I feel like any creativity I may posses is shriveled like the balloon that we got free at Applebees two weeks ago but we are aren't allowed to throw away upon threat of a full blown fist-pounding tantrum. We CAN'T throw it away Mom. It still has some some air in it.

What do you do to keep your idea nets out there and your writing brain functioning when real life seems to require more brains cells than you currently posses?

Safety in Distance

2007-12-18T15:58:00.000-06:00

Two weeks ago in the town where I live (Omaha) a boy shot and killed 8 people, then killed himself, at the mall where I take my kids to play. It was a Wednesday. Wednesday is the day I take my kids to play there, usually, but we decided not to go that day. The shooting happened later in the day than we are usually there, but still, it is haunting to think of something like that happening so close to home.

It was a tragedy that has set the emotional timbre of the city dissonant. Yet I find myself very unconnected from the whole thing, relatively unconcerned. I don't think about it much at all and haven't really mourned much for those people who lost their lives.

When I took the time to actually realize this I was horrified with myself. What kind of unfeeling monster am I? But then I had to stop at that question because if there is one thing I am not, it is unfeeling. I feel things much too strongly in general. My siblings have agreed that my greatest fault is that I'm overly sensitive.

So what gives? It doesn't seem to make much sense. Then, as I sat reflecting on the situation, I tried to relate it to my emotional response to other tragedies and a pattern began to form. I thought of Katrina, the tsunami, 9/11 and realized that my responses to those were very similar with one exception. When news would roll of those happenings I'd change the channel. I averted my eyes from the news articles. The exception was 9/11.

The thing about 9/11 that just overcome me was the images of people jumping from the buildings. Putting myself in their places was the most terrifying feeling I could imagine and I couldn't face it. I refused to imagine what I would do in their places. Cold, electric panic would fill my chest every time I thought of it. It was too much for me.

I have come to realize that when the unthinkable happens, I do just that. I don't think about it. It's a safety mechanism I have developed, because if I let it in it will take over and I won't be able to handle it. I am so overly-symphathetic that things like that just tear at my insides and overcome me with fear.

So I'm not heartless. I've just developed self-preservation. I've come to realize the truth of this because when I really force myself to start thinking about these events, letting the people become real to me, I feel that terror reach in and I have to shut it off before it overpowers me.

In writing, if something becomes too horrific the reader starts to find it funny. Emotionally it becomes too much to handle. That's why people laugh at slasher movies. (I learned this concept from the great Mr. Card.) The key, in my opinion, is taking it to the threshold without taking it too far to elicit the maximum emotional response. When truly horrific things really do happen and it's not fiction, many people don't know how to process it.

How do you respond to horrific events and how does it affect your writing?

Contest Entry

2007-12-14T15:51:00.000-06:00

Here is my entry to Bernita's contest.

Milk and Cookies
By Hoodie

"Mom, are markers made out of poop?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Gwen at school told me that the writey-part of markers is made out of horse poop. I said 'no way,' but then I smelled it and it really did smell like poop!"

"I find it highly unlikely."

"Then what makes that smell?"

"The ink."

"What's the ink made out of?"

"Umm, octopuses."

"Mom, are you joking?"

"I think so. What are you drawing?"

"A finger tree. It tickles you all over."

"Wow, did you make that up?"

"Well, Mr. Barr sometimes pretends to be a finger tree. At first it wasn't my favorite game, but then he taught me how to do it, like this."

"I see."

"He says I'm the best finger tree he's ever seen! It's this cool special game. He says I'm so, so good."

"Hmm. Okay. Will you draw me another picture? I'm going to be on the phone for a while."

"Are you calling Daddy?"

"Yes, and maybe some other people. I'm going to try and solve that marker mystery for you, okay? We'll find out the truth."

"I told you, Mom. I really think it's horse poop."

"She's a Writer"

2007-12-11T22:09:00.000-06:00

Last night there was a special dinner held for the members of my husband's accounting firm that work on a particular client. It was held at a pretty swanky place and I was excited about an evening dressed up and having adult conversation. The appetizer plate alone would have been enough (the best seafood I've ever had), but the hits just kept on coming: filet mignon, cheesecake. Yum.

At our table sat the office managing partner in our city. That makes him the big man at the office. It was my first opportunity to become acquainted with his wife. We were having quite a pleasant conversation when she turned to me and asked if I worked.

"I do, but I don't get paid for it, " I smiled. "I stay home with my two small kids."

Then, with a chime of enthusiasm, my husband added, "and she's a writer."

This seemed to draw attention from everyone at the table. "Really?" they questioned.

This was the first time anyone, including myself, has just come out and defined me as such, and I almost denied it, feeling that of course I don't really qualify. But I stopped, recognized the delicious feeling of being recognized as a writer and smiled. It was a beautiful moment for me. So what if I'm not published? I really am a writer.

It was a great gift from my loving and encouraging husband. Merry Christmas to me.

I am Officially Ashamed

2007-12-10T09:21:00.000-06:00

I never meant for it to happen like this. Things just got out of control. At first it was just a few days. A week. I never thought I was capable of something like this.

I haven't posted in almost a month.

I apologize to those I've hurt.

So why the lag? I wish I had a good excuse. The best I can do is that I have indeed been confirmed to have anemia and I am honestly taking naps at every available opportunity. I just feel so worn out. Still, I've managed to get everything else accomplished that is absolutely necessary and we all know that blogging IS a necessity.

How did NaNoWriMo go, you ask? Sheepishly I admit that I finished just shy of 8500 words, which is a lot of words, but painfully distant from 50000. I got to a certain point, didn't know what to do and sort of just stopped. I don't think I knew I had stopped. I kept meaning to jump right in, but then kids got sick, Thanksgiving (including lots of travel and kids with Chicken Pox) happened and soon November was over. Whoops. Oh well. I do intend to revisit this project, but I think my method will change slightly. I was hoping to write chronologically, but I think I'll just write the most exciting parts first next time.

I have stored away in my little brain some blog topics, so don't expect the drought to last. But first I must humbly thank Jaye Wells for nominating me for the Shameless Lion award. I've seen this award floating around and never thought I might actually be a recipient. There are few I could have felt more honored to be nominated by. Jaye is a blogging (and writing) goddess.

The rules are found at the Shameless Lions Writing Circle.

Here are my three things I believe make writing good and powerful (however much my opinion on the subject counts).

1. Basket-skills - I believe good stories are woven. There are so many elements involved in writing a good story, and they must all be delicately balanced so that the best parts peek through at the best times so that the overall finish is flawless and flowing. The longer your story, the more precarious the balance. That is something I discovered during NaNoWriMo. There are thousands of ways to write the very same story, but only a handful of them will be good.

2. Investment - If a writer doesn't believe in their character, no one else will either. I think an author needs to be emotionally invested in the characters and stories she is writing, trying to imagine every aspect of emotional and physical reaction to situations, finding the details. Yeah, gotta have details. I think good writers see their stories as their children.

3. Striking Stereotypes - My favorite books are the ones where you think you know what's going to happen and then something COMPLETELY different happens. When writing it's easy to ask yourself, "so what happens next?" The hard thing is not accepting your first answer, or your second or third.

Incidentally, these are all things that I think I need to work on. A lot.

Most people I find deserving of this award have already been nominated, and if my nominations are a repeat, my apologies. You can just feel that much "warm and fuzzy"er.

1. The Quoibler - Angeligue is a clever kitten who's proven dynamic and humorous both on her blog and in contests she's submitted to. Her strengths are her sincerity and wit.

2. Struggling Writer - I've admired this man's stories for a while now and give him a hearty kudos for finishing NaNoWriMo with an excess word count. He's got a flair for the funny and enjoys the same kinds of writing I do. Rock on, PL!

Postitude

2007-11-15T18:15:00.000-06:00

I'm writing this post just to prove I'm still alive (barely). Bear with me; things will pick up later. NaNoWriMo progress is all but nonexistent because I've just been busy busy busy.

I was able to get my entry into Jason's contest in under the wire (#44) even though I had to stay up through the night to find time to write it.

Health update: I had an EKG done and there is a slight abnormality in my left ventricle(?). Why did I have an EKG? Because my doctor was concerned about my abnormally high heart rate, resting and otherwise. Anyway, he says the most probable reason I'm not losing weight is because I'm working out TOO HARD! Im burning carbs instead of fat, which leaves me starving so I'm eating more too. Who'd have thought? The guys on the exercise videos, on Oprah, in the magazines say that you should always push yourself. Pushing myself generally keeps my heartrate in the high 170s and low 180s. Turns out I need to be in the low 150s or lower to be in the fat burning zone. At the gym today I watched my heartrate closely. Averaging about 156 I felt like I was barely moving. In 45 minutes I hadn't even really begun to sweat. Anyway, my doctor wants to do a heart ultrasound, which involves doing a resting heartrate ultrasound, then putting me on a treadmill at a sprint and then doing another ultrasound. If indeed the muscle around the left side of my heart is abnormally large I may need to take medication. I'm not sure. It's nothing to be worried about, that I know. Just a possible explanation for things I've always wondered about.

Anyway, Kudos to all of you who entered Jason's contest. I was honestly being as objective as possible, yet Szelsofa, Angelique and Beth all managed one of my votes. You blew me away, ladies! I have talented buddies. I wasn't even paying attention to who wrote them when I decided favorites. Aside from the five I voted for, there were four others that I wish I could have.

We're visiting family for Thanksgiving, so if I don't post, HAVE A GREAT HOLIDAY, Y'ALL!

And P.S. to those of you who commented about exercising at home. Sounds great, but my kids don't let me do it much. I actually do it whenever possible, but it's not a feasible solution for all my exercise needs.

Climbing the Wall

2007-11-07T15:36:00.000-06:00

Thank you so much to everyone for commenting on my last post. I appreciate the words of encouragement, advice and validation. I'm doing okay today, even though my concerns still stand.

As for my weight loss, I saw my doctor yesterday who had done blood tests last week. There are some abnormalities with my red blood cells and my output of thyroid chemicals. He said that these things could cause tiredness and difference in metabolism and that without doing another blood test he couldn't rule out anemia. It is comforting to know that there may actually be a cause for the changes in my body, so I'm taking some supplements now and hope some areas will improve.

He also prescribed 1 hour of exercise a day, seven days a week, including yoga, pilates, and strength training to help manage my mood. I would love to be able to do this, and I'm trying to find a gym that will make it possible, but we don't have $140 extra dollars a month to fork out in Health Club fees (that's how much it costs to join the one my doctor suggested). I'll keep looking.

As far as the piano thing goes, I'm going to go ahead and do it. One commenter suggested that I've probably done it before and truthfully I have not. I have sung many times in front of many congregations, and I also lead our church choir. I think there were church members who kind of assumed that since I could do those things I probably played the piano well. Whatever the case, I told them from the beginning what my abilities were and they have been supportive. Even though I'd like to accompany the kids flawlessly, I'm learning to accept that it will be what it will be and I'll do well enough. It's just a little nerve wracking.

As for NaNoWriMo, I will push on. Truth be told I haven't even reached the part of the story where anything exciting happens, so I'm just going to start writing that part. I really wanted to write it chronologically, which is why there are so many bad parts because I was just putting stuff down trying to get my main character into position for the exciting things to happen. I will be able to rewrite much of what I have already written later and condense it considerably. If it has accomplished anything, it has served to flesh out background details in my own mind. Thank you, blog friends, for letting me know it is appropriate to be frustrated and that writing a novel really is hard. It helps me not feel like such a wuss.

I read each of your comments several times and cannot tell you how much your words mean to me. They have helped me achieve perspective and to feel valued.

I even had a big long talk with my husband and he seems much more supportive now.

Love to all. Thank you.

The Wall

2007-11-05T22:50:00.000-06:00

I'm going to try to write this post without sounding like a crazy person. I really would like to think of myself as a non-crazy person, but sometimes I feel like that status is severely challenged.

I've hit a wall. A big one. Lots of walls all lined up to make one big wall.

Two months ago I decided I was going to do something about the weight I'd inexplicably gained over the summer. I was already exercising regularly, but it was time for a major overhaul. I have religiously worked out daily, dieting the best I can (with only a few Halloween flubs). If anything, I can say my clothes are tighter and my flab is flabbier. Really great for the motivation. Wall number one.

In August I was asked by people at my church to play the piano for the children's program happening this coming Sunday. Even though I'm not a terrific pianist, I was given eight songs to learn which I have practiced regularly and while vast improvements have been made, I'm still seriously screwing up these songs. I'm terrified to accompany the children in front of my whole church's congregation. I feel like I could practice for forever and I will still suck. Wall number two.

I've been so looking forward to NaNoWriMo. It was my chance to give up all excuses about becoming a novelist and just go for it. I pictured it being exhilarating and I have really committed to the process. Right now my word count stands at 8,246 words. I had my husband read it back to me today and realized that even though I had given myself permission to write crap, I didn't really expect it all to actually be crap. Rationally I can realize that this is a process and that only by experience will I get any better. Emotionally, I feel like a big fat joke. My 8k words are pretty boring. I'm realizing my story must not be starting in the right place. And I'm not scrapping my 8k yet because I need that word count. But, alas, here I am, eye to brick with wall number three.

I realize that these things are pretty inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. But I can't help the feeling that no matter how strong an effort I give something I'm bound to fail. Little successes can do wonders for the ego. No success at all makes me wonder why I even try.

I know how whiny it sounds. Just writing it makes me want to puke. But I'm feeling so totally alone right now and I'm desperate for encouragement from any voice at all. I tried to tell my husband how I was feeling, but he was asleep before I even finished my sentence. He is not an insensitive man, he just doesn't get the magnitude of my feelings. In general I feel things quite strongly, so he seems, unfortunately, desensitized.

I apologize for my gush of self indulgence. But it was either this or find a sharp object and make myself bleed. And that folks, really does make me sound like a crazy person. God help me.

Nano - The journey begins

2007-11-01T22:35:00.000-05:00

It's 10:30 PM and I've got to go to bed. After a rough night last night I don't have the stamina to stay up and write liked I'd originally planned. The end of my first day of NaNoWriMo finds me with 2,270 words and four revelations:

1. I am such a NOVICE! I can recognize so many flaws.
2. When forced to just write without continually going back and editing I find I have a horrible habit of much more tell than show, not what I would have guessed my greatest weakness to be. There is much revision to be done.
3. Good characterization is hard. Heck, bad characterization takes effort.
4. Despite my abundance of inadequacy, I like doing this.

My first chapter didn't pan out the way I had envisioned it, but we'll see what happens. I can tell you that I won't be giving up and that I'm excited to see my writing improve. Writing big long stuff is different than writing little short stuff.

To bed, to bed.

Naughty Girl/NaNo Freak Out/Serious Rant

2007-10-31T12:37:00.000-05:00

I've not done right by those who visit me, which probably means my limited readership has dropped even further, to my chagrine, but such is life. We've been playing duck duck goose with a nasty cold and I got goosed. Plus we've had all the frivolties of Halloween to deal with and hear it is the day of and I still haven't carved the pumpkin. Oh well.

At the forefront of my mind is the fact that NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow! I felt like at the first of the month I was so gung ho that by the time November rolled around I'd feel ready. I am comforted by the fact that some people are doing this from scratch, no plot, no characters, nothing; at least I'm ahead of them, but I'm daunted, no doubt about it. I've got about 7 chapters loosely outlined, which I'm hoping will lay out the path for the rest of the book to follow. We'll see. I'm excited and nervous. I'll be sure to give regular updates of my progress and possible excerpts if I find something on the page other than drivel. If there is anyone within eyesight of this post who is participating this year, feel free to buddy me. I'm needy. My name over there is HoodieWriter.

And for those of you who like a good rant, I've prepared one especially for you. I am disgusted with the dominating practice in our society to let the few determine the rules for the majority. If people could start worrying a little bit more about fixing problems instead of spending all of their time blaming others for them we may not have this problem. Let me explain what I'm talking about.

We went to buy shoes for my daughter a few weeks ago. We've really been trying to stay within a budget, so price was the number factor, but I also wanted something cute and practical. We absolutely HAD to buy shoes. She had only one pair of flip flops she was fitting into and it was starting to get cold. Every store we visited either was out of her size of the shoes we liked or was way out of our price range. It was becoming quite a frustrating process. Finally, at PayLess we found one pair that seemed perfect for our needs and had been significantly marked down. I literally whooped for joy. With a triumphant grin I took the shoes to the register where I was told there had been a recall on the shoes and she couldn't sell them to me. I was so irritated. There those great shoes sat, never to be worn, because a little rivet or shoelace or rubber piece or something fell off a shoe somewhere. I was tempted to just steal them. We live in such a blame/sue-happy society companies take ridiculous efforts in keeping themselves from lawsuits. Your kid found a piece of a toy and choked on it? SUE THE TOY COMPANY!

More examples that just make my ears steam? My sister's OB/GYN, whom she adored, had to quit his practice due to unaffordable malpractice insurance. Your baby wasn't born perfect? SUE YOUR DOCTOR! They took the hand sanitizer out of the kids room at my gym because some lady said that she read of a case where a kid had continually pumped it on his hands and licked it off, making him sick. So on the weird chance some kid might lick sanitizer, LET'S NOT PROVIDE IT FOR ANYONE! I grew up in a very conservative community where most people were religious. One girl complained, though she was in no way forced to participate, that a group prayer had offended her, so prayer was banned at all functions. TO SAVE "OFFENDING" THE ONE, LET'S OFFEND THE MAJORITY! Now, because of the irresponsible use of children's cold medicine, they won't sell it to the rest of us. SORRY KIDS, YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH IT.

Are people getting hurt less? Sick less? Are all these bans and recalls and lawsuits helping? I, personally, don't think so. I think the only thing we're accomplishing is training people to take no responsibility for their own mistakes and stupidity but to look for a way to blame/punish someone else for it. Aarrggh.

I know this encompasses some sensitive, controversial topics. Perhaps my views don't fall within those determined most popular, but GOOD GRIEF PEOPLE!

No Vocab today.

I urge you all to indulge in some sugary treats, the real reason for Halloween.

Awakenings

2007-10-22T20:53:00.000-05:00

When I was 18 I was part of a national choir that toured Europe for a month. I was able to visit, however hastily, some of the most famed and beloved cities in Germany, Austria, Italy, Switzerland and France. It was a whirlwind experience - friendships, crushes, music, travel and so many new people, sites, sounds, and places I was barely able to absorb them. Not surprisingly it was an emotionally charged month. Up until that time I had never really left the western U.S. and had associated almost entirely with conservative people who shared most of my beliefs. It was the first time I really tasted what life outside of my small town was like. My best friends on the trip were from Connecticut, New Jersey, New York and Maine. I was definitely the anomaly in our little group. That month it felt as if I were somehow able to open my eyes wider than I ever had before, that a new section of my mind opened up.

I considered myself a fairly cultured teenager. I had a strong appreciation of music, a love of literature and a fairly basic knowledge of art. I liked pretty pictures just as much as the next person.

In Paris we went to the Pompidou Museum. I saw all kinds of art there. Some was beautiful, some confusing and some, in my opinion, kind of stupid. But as we were browsing the gift shop I came across a 5x7 print by Francine Van Hove.

Something about this piece struck me in a way art had never done. I had always turned my virgin eye away from nudes, wondering if they were not just an excuse to exhibit images that were erotic. But I loved this picture right away. There was something so raw, simple and real about it that I was taken by its beauty. The woman seemed somehow strong and vulnerable at the same time. I bought the little print and stared at it in long stretches and something opened up inside of me. I wanted to be able to make people feel the way Van Hove had made me feel. I mourned that I was not an artist.

I found my little print the other day and my appreciation for it is still strong, though now it means different things to me. I realized, also, that I don't have to be able to draw to be an artist. My goal as a writer is make people feel. I may be a long way off from doing that effectively, but in the end that is my motivation.

What gets you excited about your craft?

Vocabulary Word of the Day:

NON SEQUITUR - noun - A statement that does not follow logically from what preceded it.

One Serious Meme

2007-10-15T22:05:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Beth at Perfect Neurotic who likes me well enough to even think of me when trying to figure out who to tag for this next meme. The purpose of this, as I understand it, is to increase the exposure of your blog by linking your favorite three posts into the meme. Since this blog is still in its infancy my choices are not as difficult to make as they have been for others, but it also means I have a smaller quality margin to work within. There is so much of my genius still unblogged!

Anyway here are the official rules and the link progression. Everyone read, read, read!

"This seo meme was conceived and designed by Bobby at Revellian .com. This is a new fun seo meme ride for us all. This is based on the seo theory that links to posts inside your blog are more important than links to your home page. I have selected three posts I want to promote along with my site’s name. You will do the same thing. Let’s keep it simple and spread our good work around to both share and build some ratings!Make sure you pick three posts that you feel are your best. You could also select 3 posts you simply want to promote. Your site name is listed with your 3 selected posts beneath. Once you have your post up: Add the sites and post links of the folks you tagged onto your post. Try to add the site and post links to anyone involved to maximize the effectiveness. Tag a minimum of 5 people. Try your best not to double tag people so it will spread better! Please actually read the posts from everyone so you can see some really good work from our beloved blogging friends! Make your title a little different from mine to avoid repetitive titles."

Revellian dot com - SEO Keywords For Beginners, Content: The Kings Illegitimate Stepchild, Tales of Blogger-X Illusion

Mariuca - Wishing On A Falling Star - Love In Disarray, In Love With A Dream, The Good Client

Mariuca’s Perfume Gallery - Perfume Shopping Spree, Defining Beauty, In Full Splendour

Speedcat Hollydale Page - Rocket Boy in Hawaii - DC9, Speedcat’s Death Ride into Terror!, The Boy Inside All Men

Terri Terri Quite Contrary - Just How Immature Are We?, Finding a Voice, So Much More to See than the Game

Mahala - Uncle Huberts Custom Cows, Pray for the Child at Big Lots, The Legend of Saushie's Crotch

Tiff - How am I like Ron Weasley, A Social Experiment, Absolutely Boring Entry 101

Cosmic Cat - Just An Ordinary Thursday Night..., Not Gone With The Wind. Just Gone., The "Weekly Thoughtful Reminder" And Other Hazards Of Working

Field Lines - Even MIT Girls Get the Blues, Bye Bye, Friend, Bad Hair Day

The Perfect Neurotic - The Sticker, The Last American Virgin, Aunt Ellie, Come Get Your Ass

Tales From The Hoodie - Experience, Shoes, Literally, This is Killing Me

Okay, I really hope I did that right. I'm always nervous about tagging people, so I'm giving everyone I tag an out. If you've already been tagged or you plain just don't want to do it, you are exempt.

So, Church Lady, Brilliant Donkey and Struggling Writer, the choice is yours.

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
ESOTERIC - adj. - Meant for or understood by only a specific group

Plot Elements

2007-10-09T13:55:00.000-05:00

As I've been trying to piece together my plot I've been reflecting on common elements from other books I like. Here are a few I came up with.

- Journeys - Travel provides a change of scenery and often a change in situation.

- Talismans - Inanimate objects that carry so much meaning/importance they almost become like another character.

- Injury - Physical pain is something that everyone can relate to which makes it a good way to create sympathy in the reader

- Loss of Parent(s) - Think every single Disney story. An orphan makes an easy protagonist.

Those are some I've been thinking about today. What are some of your favorite plot elements, either to read or to write, to keep things interesting and create emotional investment?

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
TURGID - adj. - Excessively ornate or complex in style or language; Swollen or distended

Let's Face It

2007-10-04T13:44:00.000-05:00

The first conceived idea of the book I plan on writing for NaNoWriMo occurred over a year ago. Sometimes I'd think about it while driving, but it was all just sort of a vague idea for many months. Now that I've committed to writing it, the need to fill plot holes and do concrete research is on the front burner, so to speak. It's amazing how much plot can be developed in a short time when it's all you think about. Yesterday I think I came up with the major conflict that should push the plot along and, (this part was exciting) all my characters have names now! Naming a character does so much more than mark a place in the text. I'm able to visualize and develop the characters in my mind so much easier now that they have identities.

I discovered a funny thing I do when I'm writing yesterday. I was writing a dialogue scene and as I tried to picture what one character's reaction would be to what the other said I realized I was acting it out. I was saying the words the way I thought one character would say them, then physically reacting to them and vocally retorting. I think I do this a lot, but haven't really noticed it before. If I can do the movement, or say the words, I can see if it feels natural for the scene or not. Plus, especially when it comes to physical movements, doing them helps me describe them. Thankfully, I always write in solitude. I have yet to be made fun of for random shrugs, frowns and arguing with myself.

Do any of you do this?

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
SOBRIQUET - noun - An affectionate of humorous nickname. (Thanks Church Lady)

Update & Announcement

2007-09-30T17:33:00.000-05:00

I spoke today, for the first time since giving his chapters back, to the man whose writing I critiqued. Find my anxiety about giving him constructive comments here. He was very appreciative and told me that I had picked up on patterns and flaws in his writing that he had never been aware of before and that no one else had ever pointed out to him. He said that he has found my comments very helpful as he has gone forward in writing the rest of his book. I was much relieved and felt that he was very gracious in his complimentary way. It was all very pleasant. He also told me that because I was able to be so specific and helpful he respected my opinion more now. Yay! I guess I did that one right.

So I started talking to him about a story that's been knocking about in my head and his eyes lit up as I laid out the basic premise. He told me he thought it was a clever idea and that I should definitely write it. That was the boost I needed. I have been toying with the idea of doing NaNoWriMo this year and his comment sealed it for me. I have never attempted anything longer than a short story before, but I think that this will be a forum in which I can really start with a sprint and keep on running without letting my internal editor shut me down. Having the permission to write crap (as long as there's lots of it) is so relieving, and who knows, maybe there will be some true gems in my piece. I'm anxious for the freedom that goes along with NaNoWriMo and exhilarated by the idea of living a dream I've been afraid of for so long. I've counseled with my husband and he is on board. He understands that this will require me to be mostly absent from family life for a month. What a great guy.

Are any of you doing NaNoWriMo?
Also, I'm trying to work out an outline in advance. How extensively do you outline?

Vocabulary Word of the Day:

ASCETIC - noun - One who renounces material comforts for austere self-discipline, esp. as an act of religious devotion

Vocabulary Word of the Day

2007-09-26T09:00:00.000-05:00

MALEVOLENT - adj. - Having or exhibiting ill will; wishing harm to others

Vocabulary Word of the Day

2007-09-20T15:54:00.000-05:00

FASTIDIOUS - adj. - Possessing or displaying meticulous attention to detail.

In Your Dreams

2007-09-18T18:37:00.000-05:00

First of all, my apologies to those who are kind enough to check back frequently and who may have been disappointed in my recent lack of posts. My kids were sick, then I was sick, then a bunch of other time consuming things happened. I've been able to find time for commenting here and there (Woman cannot live entirely without Blog) but I'm hoping things will settle down and I can hop into routine again.

That said-

I am a very vivid dreamer. My mind can still easily recall clear images from dreams I had as a child. Don't even get me started on the one where Spiderman captured my mom. Terrifying.

I have noticed that through different eras of my life my dreams have carried themes. For a few years in my young adulthood I was always dreaming of being chased by someone with a knife or a gun, and despite my most clever means of escape they were always right behind me. And I was often shot or stabbed, feeling my wounds and wondering why I wasn't dead yet.

Then there was another bout where it seemed every unresolved issue I'd ever encountered was coming back, begging for closure. I dreamt of the boy who wanted to marry me but I broke up with him instead. I dreamt of the employers of a job I'd walked out on as a rash teen. In all the dreams I was forgiven and a lasting relationship was reestablished.

I bought a dream encyclopedia to help me decipher what some of my dreams meant, but wrote it off as hokey, finding most meanings as specific as fortune cookie fortunes. One entry actually said, "Dreaming of insects indicates that something is 'bugging' you." Hmm.

With my recent flood, however, of incredibly vivid and emotionally powerful dreams, I got the old book out again. I found most meanings just as ridiculous as before, but one meaning in particular stuck out to me. It said "Dreaming of a beautiful lover is like a gift to oneself, a recognition of inner beauty and strength."

I'll take it.

A few nights ago I had a brief but strong dream of a man who, by the emotion of it, was clearly intimate with me. This was not a sex dream. The only image I can retain is of my hand on his waist, the texture of his shirt and sturdiness of his hip beneath it. But this one image carries such powerful emotion, an understanding between two people that I don't think can possibly exist in real life. In that one moment I was the most euphorically beautiful, understood, empowered woman imaginable.

I've also been dreaming stories. Stories more creative and emotionally driven than I can create in a wakeful state. So, of course I've been writing like crazy, right? No, and I'll tell you why.

I'm afraid. These dreams are so perfect in the way I remember them emotionally that I can't fathom where to begin in relating them to others. I don't want to taint them. No matter what I write, something will be lost, for there are feelings in dreams that cannot be achieved during consciousness.

Or, can they?

Have you ever read something that has elicited a stronger emotional response than what you experience in your own relationships?

Do you have vivid dreams like this?

Please share.

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
SARDONIC - adj. - Scornfully or cynically mocking.

All the better to blog with, my dear.

2007-09-06T22:55:00.000-05:00

I don't like sitting with my feet on the floor. I avoid straight back chairs when possible. If on a couch or recliner you can bet my legs will be tucked up under me or that I am, in fact, reclined, with my feet up. I sit at the kitchen table for the sake of my family so that we can all be together when we eat, but if I'm eating alone I head for the couch.

The one place I just positively have not been able to avoid this most detested position is at the computer, a dilemma to be sure, considering my affection for it. Incidentally, I have found an uncanny connection between my sitting at the computer and the onset of the need to go number two. Weird, yes. Gross, for sure. But am I the only one who experiences this? Anyway... so I don't like sitting at the computer.

Well, ha, guess what? I am writing this post seated comfortably on my bed with the love of my life sleeping peacefully beside me, comfortably propped up with pillows. Yes, folks, I am the proud owner of my very own laptop!

Let me relate how this blessed occurrence, though a bit convoluted, came to be.

For a while I was becoming a real Craigslist junkie. With two little ones and burgeoning expenses I was after any way of providing the necessities for as little cash as possible. We found my daughter, well past the age of the toddler bed, a nice twin for an amazing price. We got a piano for free. Just for fun I looked at the electronics section, well aware I wouldn't be able to afford anything, but just to see what people might be selling. I found a guy selling an IBM ThinkPad for $150. He included a picture of the actual machine and a list of all its noteworthy features. I called my spouse and asked if he thought it sounded like a good computer. He did. So I emailed the guy and asked why he would be selling this computer for so little. He replied that he already had another one and just figured he could help someone out by getting rid of the other. Hmmm. Okay. A quick run to the ATM and we (meaning my kids and I) were off to pick the thing up.

As I pulled in front of his house I wondered if it might be best to hope he hadn't seen me and drive away. It seemed only slightly friendlier than something haunted and had it not been midday I'm sure I wouldn't have dared step foot on the property. With children held close and gripped tight we knocked on the door.

I'm not a smoker, but I think even a smoker would have felt overwhelmed by the pervasive smell. The carpet in the front room had been worn down to bare wood and the cracks in the walls stood out through the greasy wallpaper. The man, whose congeniality was in stark contrast to his haggard appearance, led us past two grim, staring women on a sunken couch. They might have been able to scrape up a set of teeth between the three of them. The women seemed oblivious to my greeting. The man showed me the computer, I handed him the money and hightailed out of there, wondering if I'd not paid for his next fix, and wondering also if the merchandise had been legitimately acquired by my host. I don't mean to pass judgement, but, MAN!

Upon inspection the computer had all it had been purported to except a DVD drive and wireless Internet. While these were not expensive problems to fix, I was left with a pretty useless machine for a while, since I couldn't get any programs put on it and I couldn't use the Internet. Thanks to SuperHubby, however, we're rocking and rolling. Time and a thorough cleaning have even left it smoke-free.

I'm looking forward to more control over my writing atmosphere, being able to actually see my kids while I'm on the computer (the desktop is in a kind of secluded location) and most of all, never having to write with my feet on the floor again.

Sorry my list of Vocab Words is by the desktop.

And thank you all for missing me while I was gone. I had a lovely time and slept in for the first time in years.

Time Off

2007-08-27T22:48:00.000-05:00

Hoodie will be on vacation until the middle of next week.

All by herself.

*giddy laughter*

Have fun without me.

No Vocab word - Hey, the vacation starts right now.

Literally, this is killing me...

2007-08-22T14:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, I try to give the majority of the population the benefit of the doubt when it comes to incorrect word and phrase usage. I've committed a few grammar felonies in my day. Though "I could care less" has become more common than the BigMac, I try not to let it get me down. But I just can't seem to reconcile myself with the new way the word "literally" is being thrown around.

The irony is like sparks of electricity in my head every time I hear it, for the word "literally" is no longer being used literally.

The compromise is so pervasive it's on TV now. I was watching a travel channel when the host of the show said, "So the fish goes literally from the ocean to your plate." No, she didn't mean that you are served a dripping, raw fish, gills still undulating in their search for water. She meant that the fish you are served was caught earlier that day, though once it reaches your plate it is quite cooked, seasoned and, apparently, delicious.

It's abuzz in public. Teenagers are "literally dying" all around me. One girl, though she appeared quite dry, "literally peed [her] pants."

What are we to do when the word has been whored to the point that when we actually need to be literal, no one knows what we're talking about?

My head asplode. (But not literally)

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
LITERAL - adj - Conforming or limited to the simplest, nonfigurative, or most obvious meaning of a word or words; Avoiding exaggerations, metaphor, or embellishment.

Graceful Critiques

2007-08-21T11:05:00.000-05:00

I wrote in a previous post that I didn't know any writers personally. This was before I found out that a family friend who lives close by has been writing a book. He only shared this information with me when I made a passing comment about writing being one of my hobbies. I politely told him I'd love to read some of it sometime and he gave me the first five chapters when I saw him next. I asked him if he wanted me to actually critique it or just read it. He said he wanted all the advice I could give him.

I just finished reading it. It's a fantasy novel and from what I can tell the story-line and characters are pretty well-conceived. There are some integral flaws, however. His POV is all over the place and the pacing is poor. He seems anchored to a single sentence structure and loses a lot of action in the telling of character background and motive. I gave him what I thought was some general, helpful advice, but IMO it would take a major overhaul for this book to be published.

Since this man has found a fellow writer in me he is eager to share his excitement and ambition with me. He keeps talking about how things are going to change "when the book sells." I asked him how much he knows about the query process and he insists that he "knows everything there is to know about getting a book sold," and that he has "no worries," on that front.

I have never sold a book, but from what I've learned from my blogging buddies, getting a book published is neither simple nor guaranteed. So my question is, do I give this man, who seems to hold my opinion in fairly high esteem, polite encouragement and let his process unfold as it may, or do I tell him what I really think?

My instinct is to do the former. But if our roles were reversed, I think I would want some realistic advice. I don't want to stunt his enthusiasm, however, of which he has plenty.

What would you do?

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
FUSILADE - noun - A rapid outburst or barrage.

Shoes

2007-08-15T22:27:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I like to just write and let it be, without editing a piece to death. It makes me feel free to let a something out and let it live, even with flaws it might have. I wrote this a few minutes ago. I will not edit it.

The photograph’s rounded corners and grainy image reminded her how long ago it had been taken, along with its unnatural hue, as if covered with a golden film.

Her childhood face smiled back at her, dirty and smiling with more bangs than any person had any right to have. Her corduroy cover-alls were smeared in mud, her feet buried in it.

She wasn’t sure if she actually remembered that day, or just the memories of trying to remember it, photos for fuel.

In the stories Mom always told about it, the mud was secondary, inconsequential. It was those shoes.

They’d left them on the car, and then drove away.

Mom laughed when she recounted how distraught her little daughter had been at the loss of the shoes she’d nearly grown out of. The silliness of children.

The pain of losing the shoes reflected back to her through the years, like two mirrors facing each other, compounding as it stretched through time. The details were lost to her, but the loss was fresh.

Silly, indeed, to still be missing those shoes all these years later. A day of realization, a peek at the cruelty of accident and chance. A turning point, to learn Mother was falliable, that dear things are sometimes suddenly gone.

Slipping the old photo back into the album in her mother’s closet, she wiped the tears from her eyes, flattened the wrinkles out the bodice of her black dress and headed back to the guests downstairs.

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
MERCURIAL - adj. - Quick and changeable in temperament; volatile

Family Haiku*

2007-08-13T21:44:00.000-05:00

{Someone please help me! Try as I may I can't get my hard returns to translate in posting. There are supposed to be many spaces in this post!! Gah! What the heck? Anyway, here are three SEPARATE poems.}

1.What is beautiful?

For I have eyes for none else

He's what love looks like

2.Cheeks dimple-adorned

Painted with innocent smiles

Her laughter a gift

3.Recklessly trusting

And finding life in great bursts

Affection so earned

*Haiku in the loosest of terms.

Vocabulary Word of the Day:

EXPATIATE - verb - To speak or write at length; to wander freely

The Virginia Woolf Syndrome

2007-08-09T22:48:00.000-05:00

There has been a long-standing association between art and depression. Some of the greatest artists of all time have been afflicted. Maybe because angst is such great fodder for a creative product that speaks to people? There is no story without conflict, no painting without contrasts of dark on light. Who better to understand conflict and darkness than those who feel it at its deepest on a regular basis?

If there is merit to this line of thought, then I am destined to be a great artist.

No vocab word today.

Experience

2007-08-07T13:55:00.001-05:00

When I was about twelve I decided I was going to write a novel. Excitedly I found my mom's electric typewriter in the basement and gave it what I was sure was going to be a permanent home on the desk in my room. I decided that my story was going to be a scary story about five friends who get stuck in an amusement park after hours with some kind of psycho, their adventures, mishaps and close escapes. I proceeded to name them all: Jake, Tiffany, Randy, Ginger and Janie. These names are easy to remember, you see, because they were the names of my closest friends at the time.

I wrote three pages, and as I held up the product of my days work, I was proud. The goal was to finish chapter one in the next few days.

The length of that book remains three pages.

I had started writing without a real plot lined up (I figured that would naturally unfold as I went along) and when I came back to start at page four, I had no idea what needed to happen, I got discouraged, and after several months the electric typewriter went back into storage.

This was my first fiction writing attempt.

Writing was always a strength through High School and I majored in English Literature in college. I wrote so many papers and essays my brain turned to pudding and I swore I would never read a "classic" again. I wrote in a journal at that time, "I used to write and wonder at the genius of it. That was before I was made to read real writing and poetry, forced to see how dim my own thoughts are next the brightness of the greats." I lost my confidence. I read Harry Potter. I married. Children came. I wrote now and then when inspiration hit, but it was mostly non-fiction. I read. A lot. (Yes, even classics)

But I still think about that book I started to write when I was twelve. Not really the book itself, but the excitement about writing it. I still feel that. I desperately want to write.

I don't know any writers personally. There are not many I associate with who share my enthusiasm. I'm still looking for my voice, picking through technique, plotting, characterization. I feel tiny, but I want to grow.

I hope that those who read this blog will look past my lack of experience and help me along my path. I have many questions, much admiration to hand out, and a burning desire to be a writer.

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
CADRE - noun - a nucleus of trained personnel around which a larger organization can be built; A tightly knit group of zealots in a revolutionary party.

Just Another Man

2007-08-06T13:45:00.000-05:00

Since I've been in the flash fiction mood, I thought I'd share another piece.

Just Another Man

She knew she couldn’t stop what was happening to her, that fighting it would make it worse. With contempt, she stared up at the face looming above her. Bastard. How could you do this to me. She could see the pleasure in his face and fought the urge to spit on it. Let it happen, she thought. Don’t think about it. The pain between her legs seared like fire as the force came in its steady rhythm. She’d heard other women talk of this, seen how it had changed them. She couldn’t have imagined it might hurt like this.

As she lay on her back, helpless, it seemed it would never end. His hand was in her hair, on her face. She wanted to bite the damn thing off. She felt skin ripping and a scream tore its way from her lungs. No woman should have to go through this. She wept at her own powerlessness.

He looked right in her eyes. “It’ll be over soon,” he had the nerve to say. Shut up shut up shut up you son of a bitch. If you ever touch me again, I swear I’ll kill you.

The pain heightened, but she sensed it might be over soon. She closed her eyes, willing the end to come. Another scream was pulled from her devastated body, one that did not sound like her. Finally, it was done. Stillness returned as her tense muscles began to relax, but she could still hear the screams. She opened her eyes to see tears running down the man’s face.

“He’s so beautiful,” he said. “You did it, babe. We have a son.”

Thanks to Jason at Clarity of Night for hosting such a great contest. The winners were well-deserving and it was all great fun.

Vocabulary Word of the Day:

CAROM - noun - A collision followed by a rebound

Mirrors and Lines

2007-08-01T21:30:00.000-05:00

I've created this blog for the purpose of strengthening my fiction writing, but I'm going to add some non-fiction here and there as well since I'm deliciously anonymous and can share things I mightn't otherwise. I have actually written quite a few non-fiction things and have not shared many because they tend to be so intensely personal. That is definitely who I am, however. I'm all about introspection and the relationships between people. Anyway, I wrote this about a year ago and just found it in a notebook.

note - It will be helpful to know that I am a deeply religious person and that I was a virgin until my wedding night. Knowing that may help you see that sense of anticipation that is so vital to understanding this piece.

MIRRORS AND LINES
I remember looking at my naked self in a full length mirror when I was 19. I watched the lines of my body, noticing which places were lean and which places weren't, deciding that overall it was a pleasing shape. I remember wondering what that someone would think when they saw those lines, wondered if I would be nervous to reveal myself to the man who chose me, exposing all my flaws as well as assets. My eyes traced the lines of my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders, the curve of my arms, the placement of breasts, the shadows in my stomach. I turned to examine the swerve of my spine, continuing into a fullness of buttocks, then slimmer thighs, calves, right down to my painted toes. It was the body of innocence, the body of youth, the body of ease, leisure, of health. A body prepared. A body in anticipation. Ready. Able.

Today I see myself in another mirror. It is a different age, a place far away from that 19 year old in so many ways. The lines have altered, proportions have changed. A fullness has come to this body, small expansions in almost every place. I recognize in myself the telltale lines of a mother. It is the body of a woman, carrying scars that indicate the stress of bearing new life. It is not a body one would see in an ad. It is not what the world would call beautiful. But my lines are beautiful. Proportions may have changed, but the shape is much the same. I am still me, flaws included. That someone loves me and my lines, holding them as they change.

Many mirrors in the future will reveal countless changes as this body carries me through life's experiences. Shapes will change, lines will move, but beauty will remain in spite of whatever imperfections may be picked up along the way. And there he will be, by my side, loving my lines and embracing my fluid beauty.

Vocabulary word of the day:
SUPERLATIVE - adj. - Of the highest order, quality, or degree; surpassing or superior to all others.

Digging for Treasure

2007-07-31T13:37:00.000-05:00

If you head over to Jaye's Blahg you'll see her latest post has to with the expertise one gains in certain areas from doing research for writing.

After reading this I got to thinking more about research.

So here's a poll question for you -
What are your favorite sources to use when you do research?

Vocabulary Word of the Day:
VISCERAL - adj.- Perceived in or as if in the viscera (guts); profound; instinctive

Vocabulary Word of the Day

2007-07-30T22:08:00.000-05:00

APLOMB - noun - Self-confident assurance

Clarity of Night Submission

2007-07-28T11:40:00.001-05:00

My submission for the "Halo" short fiction competition has been posted over at Clarity of Night.
Click here to read my entry, "Weekend Getaway."

The writer's companion

2007-07-28T11:13:00.000-05:00

It seems that as I come in contact with more writers, whatever their level of experience and/or expertise and/or success, there is a common thread, aside from the fact that we all love to write, that binds us.

Insecurity.

Sure, some seem more comfortable in their own voice than others, but there is something about submitting your work that is reminiscent of walking out on the beach in a terribly small bikini (or speedo, for the men). It's saying "this is what I've got. I hope you find something you like," even though the exposed is painfully aware of any imperfections, real or perceived.

The term "brainchild" is ever appropriate. Once you've created a piece, groomed it, loved it, it becomes something intimately yours. You send your child off to school to interact with the other children and their teachers. If your child does something wrong and someone politely lets you know, you appreciate it so that you may correct the wayward behavior. But if someone is critical or brutal to your child, instinct takes over and the desire to lash out, to defend, to protect is strong. The thing you love has been hurt, and therefore, so have you.

Why is it that in this field there seems to be such an overt presence of insecurity. Are we, as writers, really more fearful of rejection than people in other fields, or are we just more expressive about it because, hey, that's what we do?

My question is, do you think that the Stephen Kings and J.K. Rowlings still get nervous about submitting work, that nailbiting feeling one gets until someone gives some substantial validation? Or have their repeated and overwhelming successes given them a confidence that little people like me only dream of possessing?

What do you think? How do you feel about sharing your writing with the world?

And the vocabulary word of the day is:
CARP (not the fish) - verb - To find fault in a disagreeable manner; complain fretfully

Vocabulary Word of the Day

2007-07-27T22:25:00.000-05:00

CONVIVIAL - adj. - Fond of feasting, drinking, and good company; sociable

Entry has been submitted!

Vocabulary Word of the Day

2007-07-26T20:05:00.000-05:00

MAUDLIN - adj. - Effusively or tearfully sentimental

note - my submission for the Clarity of Night contest is complete and I'll be submitting it within the next few days. I want to sit on it a while just in case any changes become obvious to me.

Vocabulary Word of the Day

2007-07-25T22:57:00.000-05:00

Since I'm not quite so prolific a writer as to have something to post daily, I do want to reward those who visit the blog regularly. I find that often in my reading I come across a word that I either don't know the meaning of or have only a vague idea of its meaning. I will post the meaning of these words, and others I may have questions about to strengthen both my writing and yours.

Lets begin, shall we?

Todays word is:
SYCOPHANT - noun - A servile self-seeker who seeks favor by flattering influential people

Clarity Of Night Flash Fiction Contest

2007-07-25T10:31:00.000-05:00

My friend Jason at Clarity of Night is hosting another of his fabulous contests. The theme is "Halo," and entries are to be inspired by this picture. Check out his site to find out all the details of the contest. There are prizes! I will post my entry as soon as I have submitted it.

Welcome To The Hood

2007-07-23T22:48:00.000-05:00

This is where my stories will live. Basking in anonimity I can let my writing thrive. May this be a place where friendships are made, lessons are learned and a craft is improved. I declare this site officially open for business.