NaNoWriMo

Yep. It's here again. National Novel Writing Month - that magical time of year when aspiring authors make personal commitments to write 60,000 words in a month - that averages 2,000 words a day.

Have I committed to same? Yes.

Please note I am writing my much neglected blog instead of creating memorable prose.

Last night, I wrote 1,100 words. Tonight I'm cruising the NaNoWriMo site.

Ah procrastination, thy name is Julie.

Seriously though, my heroine needs to be attacked a zombie - back to work.

The New Me...

I'm trying something. I can't create an many more hours in the day but I think there may be something I can do to impact my energy level. More energy means I'll get more writing done. Fingers crossed on that.

Oh, I also want to fit into an evening gown thats a few pounds too small....My brother-in-law started main-lining antioxidants and lost 25 pounds.

So, I am focusing on eating as many antioxidants as possible. Think berries, artichokes and apples. Also cinammon, cocoa, turmeric and cloves. The kids are not loving the new, healthier me or perhaps it's the dinners. Last night's gnocci with spinach, tomatoes and white beans was not a hit.

So far energy up, weight unchanged and word-count rising.

I'll keep you posted.

The Never-Ending Story

I vaguely remember a movie from my younger days. It was called The Never-Ending Story. One of the characters was something like a dragon. It talked, or maybe it was a telepath... I do remember it wore an Elvis pompadour. The hero was a little boy who loved to read. He was a cute kid. The kind of cute that appeals to adults and gets kids beat up. Somehow, our young hero entered a book and battled to save the world.

It was a kids' movie so, of course, the cute kid prevailed against impossible odds. And just when you thought the movie was over some wise old guy - don't ask me where he came from, I don't remember - explains that the hero's story is still being written. It is never-ending.

I have been writing the never-ending story. True, it contains no dragons with retro hair-dos. Also, there are no wise old guys in it. Instead, it is an article that won't end. Every time I think I have finished, the editor asks another excellent question.

It has kept me from my novel, my blog and an ever-growing pile of laundry.

I just sent off another e-mail with more information. I am not so foolish as to believe the story is finished.

If it ever does end, look for it in November!

Graveminder is Great but I'm Looking for Zombies!

I love to read. There are so many amazing books out there. I wish I had time for them all. Of late, I've been reading histories of New Orleans, a short novel based on the life of Kansas City madam Annie Chambers and, because I was in the mood for southern gothic - Melissa Marr's new novel Graveminder.

If you are unfamiliar with Melissa Marr, you obviously haven't been reading enough YA. Her Wicked Lovely series is loads of faerie fun.

Graveminder is her first stab at adult fiction. I am in awe of her world-building abilities. Her characters live in Claysville - a town that has made a deal with Death. Anyone ever born in Claysville is buried there meaning there are lots of graveyards. It is the graveminder's job to make sure the dead don't rise. Spooky - especially when the grandmotherly graveminder is murdered by a walking corpse and Bek, who lived in happy ignorance of the town's deal with Death must take her place.

Worse, tt's a Stepford kind of place, where people who ask to many questions are struck with memory-wiping migraines. Bek can't get a straight answer from anyone - not the callow mayor, the heart-of-gold bartender, the sherriff or her sometimes boyfriend.

I was hoping for Beautiful Creatures style creepiness and I got in when Bek goes wandering among the dead and meets with Charles aka Death.

This isn't a keep-you -up-at-night wondering if you dead-bolted the backdoor kind of read but is entertaining.

I just want to read about some southern gothic zombies....any ideas?

A Poor Excuse for a Poem but a Great Writing Exercise

My eighth grader came home with a writing assigment. Rather than a boring essay on how she spent her summer vacation, she is to write a poem with 'summer' as the topic.

She has been given a format for this poem. It is supposed to follow a pattern:
I saw...
I heard...
I smelled...
I tasted...
I felt...
I said...
And it was the strangest thing...

If it were me writing, I'd end up with...

I saw the sky fade from lavender to purple to black
I heard the cicadas song
I smelled fresh cut grass and new asphalt
I tasted the ice cream cone melting in my hand
I felt the hint of a breeze move the humid air
I said, "It's getting dark earlier and earlier."
It was the strangest thing, I actually sensed summer's magic around me

My two minute, free-verse poem probably wouldn't garner me an A from the English teacher. That's not the point. I love the assignment because it encourages my daughter to employ all the senses when she describes something and it reminds me to do the same.

A Good Yarn

When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I spent my third trimester on bed rest. The drugs my doctors gave me to stop unwanted contractions made it impossible for me to read. I played countless hands of bridge on a laptop and I learned to knit.

A thoughtful cousin supplied me with a pattern, yarn and needles and she taught me how to cast on, cast off, knit, pearl, count stitches, etc. I made the baby who was causing me such trouble a sweater. Next I tried a pattern with multiple colors and I learned intarsia and how to carry yarn. By the time my oldest daughter arrived, I was hooked.

I quickly discovered the romance of new yarn. The colors, the feel and the possibilities fired my creativity. I bought more than I needed. I created a stash - I've since learned many knitters maintain one.

New yarn proved to be a siren's call. Just when a project seemed dull and never-ending, hand-dyed virgin wool or a clever eyelash skein could tempt me to begin something new.

And then there's the finishing. I  find "finishing" a knitting project - sewing seams, weaving threads, blocking, etc... to be completely uninteresting. New yarn could always lure me away from finishing.

So, here I sit with a skein of new ideas and research. The new ideas seem so much brighter and more colorful than the writing projects that need finishing. The new ideas are begging to be written. Who am I to argue? After all, I finished all those sweaters - eventually.

The Dog Days of Summer

Apparently, the dog star can be seen during the hottest days of summer - thus, the expression. Who knew? I always thought the dog days of summer were about August waning into September and the promise of cooler weather.

My children return to school next Tuesay. Part of me is doing a discreet happy dance. Part of me is wondering why anyone goes back to school before Labor Day. I never did. Not once. Ergo, that is the way things should be done.

I have BIG plans for my writing life as soon as we are back on a schedule.

My best intentions melted like a popsicle in July's heat. By the time August rolled around they were a puddle on the pavement.

My to do list is long and August hasn't helped me at all. Keeping my fingers crossed that those waning days will be my friend.