The Silver Spoon will have been out a year in two days. TWO DAYS! I can't believe it's been a year already. And still, I don't have another book ready to go. I have four (count them, FOUR!) manuscripts in various stages of development, all of them past the first draft and read-through.
I have:
-The sequel to The Silver Spoon (title TBD),
-Bitter Pill, the first Rennie Harlow mystery,
-Sleep Tight, the second Rennie Harlow mystery, and
-My mystery project (which, coincidentally, happens to be both a mystery and a project that I'm keeping under wraps for the moment).
My problem has been, I think, that I always enjoy starting something new rather than struggling with revisions on an existing draft. So, in following the method Stephen King outlines in On Writing (an excellent book--if you haven't already read it, you totally should), which involves starting on a new idea to give yourself the required mental and emotional distance from what you've just finished, I've managed to make quite a mess for myself because even after getting the distance needed, I can't seem to go back and make the necessary fixes. I'd rather just start something new, and following this method gave me permission to do so. Over and over again. Not good. I just don't have the willpower to follow this method even though it's a good one. So now I have a new rule: no new projects until I'm sending out queries or I've sold one of the above projects on my list.
And I've decided, I just need to get something DONE. Just get it done. That's what I keep telling myself. Because I, for whatever reason, will continually invent reasons why I can't get something done. I can't fix this chapter until I know this information. I can't do this until I do that. And then I'm going in circles trying to find something I can do that's not connected to a half-dozen other things. And basically, that's just my self-doubt finding ways to keep me down and securely under her thumb. So, forget her (my self-doubt is definitely female because she can be very bitchy at times), it's time to stop screwing around and get something finished. It makes me wonder what I've been doing all year long already!
So, here's my plan. It's ambitious and definitely *nervous gulp*-worthy. My 30th birthday is October 7. By that date, I want to have the sequel to The Silver Spoon (damn, I have to think of a name for this book so I can stop calling it that) to my first readers. That gives me a little over a month to complete my current draft, make minor edits, clean things up and send it out to them.
By that same date, October 7, or before, I want to have a complete story synopsis for my mystery project. I've found the synopsis I wrote for the sequel to The Silver Spoon to be invaluable in writing this most recent draft. I'm hoping that same method will help here as well.
By December 31, 2005, if not before, I want the sequel to be in review by RuneStone, my publisher. I also want the mystery project to be completed and actively in the query process.
So, my key phrase to myself for the rest of this year is going to be:
Just get it done, Stacey!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Furniture move date!
Yep, we've finally got it. A date when all of our furniture and most of our belongings will once again be in one place. By next Tuesday, I hope to be completely out of our old house and
into the new one, which looks like this (except with now super long grass, out of control weeds and dead plants due to lack of watering):
The kitchen is mostly moved over except for the few things we're still using at the other house. I can do this mainly because neither one of us cook much. Though, I am hoping to use the waning days of summer to learn how to barbecue. That is, if the enormous mosquitos don't fly off with my barbecuing utensils...or the grill.
I still want to post some before and after pictures, but I have to get my husband to get them off the digital camera. I could do it...but it probably wouldn't be pretty. I'd like to have my own digital camera so I don't have to worry about breaking his. But money is a bit uncertain at this point. As most of you already know, my husband is leaving his job to become a full-time Realtor, effective this Friday. I'm very proud and excited for him, as I know he'll do a great job. But it's a little nerve-wracking as well. We're both used to having jobs with steady paychecks. My husband jokingly says I am now the breadwinner. And I remind him quite frequently that I'm better at being the bread-eater. *grin* But we're hoping this move will help us get a little closer to our long-term goals.
Anyway, stay tuned for pictures...hopefully before next Christmas.
into the new one, which looks like this (except with now super long grass, out of control weeds and dead plants due to lack of watering):
The kitchen is mostly moved over except for the few things we're still using at the other house. I can do this mainly because neither one of us cook much. Though, I am hoping to use the waning days of summer to learn how to barbecue. That is, if the enormous mosquitos don't fly off with my barbecuing utensils...or the grill.
I still want to post some before and after pictures, but I have to get my husband to get them off the digital camera. I could do it...but it probably wouldn't be pretty. I'd like to have my own digital camera so I don't have to worry about breaking his. But money is a bit uncertain at this point. As most of you already know, my husband is leaving his job to become a full-time Realtor, effective this Friday. I'm very proud and excited for him, as I know he'll do a great job. But it's a little nerve-wracking as well. We're both used to having jobs with steady paychecks. My husband jokingly says I am now the breadwinner. And I remind him quite frequently that I'm better at being the bread-eater. *grin* But we're hoping this move will help us get a little closer to our long-term goals.
Anyway, stay tuned for pictures...hopefully before next Christmas.
Because Meg Cabot says so.
Found this in Meg's blog this week and liked it. The part about furniture in the pool is due to Katrina.
"People like me are usually referred to, when we reach adulthood, as workaholics. And people who aren’t workaholics generally feel superior to us because they have lives, and we do not. But I would argue that that depends on your definition of "life."
If, to you, life is jetting off to India to star in a Bollywood movie, or exploring hidden beaches in Costa Rica, or going to Paris to drink coffee in cafes, or having children, then yes, you are right: I don’t have a life. I don’t even like coffee.
But if, to you, life is getting up every morning knowing just how you’re going to fix that messed-up chapter, then fixing it and going, "Oh, yeah, baby, things are cooking now," and then later when you are cleaning out the cat box, getting a brilliant idea for the NEXT chapter, and then celebrating with a TaB and maybe a sugar free chocolate chip cookie or two, then, actually I DO have life.
It’s really all about finding out what that gives YOU a feeling of contentment and pleasure, and then doing that as much as possible (so long as it’s legal). Happily, I’ve found mine, AND someone is willing to pay me for it. Life is good. Even if your backyard furniture is in the pool."
Thursday, August 25, 2005
I love mummies!
Always have. In fact, I don't know how many nights I've settled in with the television on Discovery Channel or National Geographic to catch the latest theory on who killed King Tut. It's fascinating to me, in part, because of the way our culture (modern U.S) treats death. People die and you never see them again (their physical form), so it almost feels like they never existed. Grave stones don't really give you much information about a person.
Mummies are more than the empty shells of human beings, they are proof that these people existed and they were people too, not just historical figures. They had bad teeth or egg-shaped heads (true of King Tut, though, they don't know if it was genetic or if something was done to him--akin to the process of foot-wrapping in China--to make it that way). When they're buried with stuff, it's usually things that were important to them for one reason or another.
Yesterday, I was home waiting for the home appraisal guy (another long story) and I saw a show on the Sci-Fi Channel with a segment on these catacombs in Italy. And I guess these particular catacombs are pretty famous. Apparently, a couple hundred years ago, one monk died and his brothers embalmed so that the villagers could continue to pray to him. But after seeing how it worked, the villagers themselves wanted to be embalmed. So these catacombs are just full of mummies. It's really neat. They're all dressed in their best clothing, and some of them still look pretty good for being as old as they are. I'm providing a link, but be warned, for those who are grossed out by skeletons and decaying mummies, it's probably not a good choice. But mostly, it looks like anything else you'd see in a horror movie (remember that scene in the Raiders of the Lost Ark?) except this time it's real.
If you do decide to check it out, be sure to check out the picture links on the left hand side of the page and also the professional photographer's link on the right hand side. The photos are poignant, seeing the clothing that was chosen for the dead and how carefully they are laid out. There are photos of babies and small children mummies, which is also sad, so be warned. But in one way, they continue to live on because people know their names and their stories whereas their contemporaries in other parts of the world have been buried under grave stones and forgotten.
One of the more fascinating of those is Rosalia Lombardo, a little girl who died more than 80 years ago, but due to a secret recipe of embalming materials, she looks like she's still alive and just sleeping.
Also, be sure to check out the clothing. It's interesting to see all the different styles and amazing to see how well the cloth has held up over the years.
Sorry if you find this morbid or disturbing. I've always been interested in stuff that's a little...dark : ) I find this fascinating and would love to use it in a book somehow. Can you imagine being the security guard at night in a place like this? Every little noise, every little rustle....ooooh. *shudder*
Mummies are more than the empty shells of human beings, they are proof that these people existed and they were people too, not just historical figures. They had bad teeth or egg-shaped heads (true of King Tut, though, they don't know if it was genetic or if something was done to him--akin to the process of foot-wrapping in China--to make it that way). When they're buried with stuff, it's usually things that were important to them for one reason or another.
Yesterday, I was home waiting for the home appraisal guy (another long story) and I saw a show on the Sci-Fi Channel with a segment on these catacombs in Italy. And I guess these particular catacombs are pretty famous. Apparently, a couple hundred years ago, one monk died and his brothers embalmed so that the villagers could continue to pray to him. But after seeing how it worked, the villagers themselves wanted to be embalmed. So these catacombs are just full of mummies. It's really neat. They're all dressed in their best clothing, and some of them still look pretty good for being as old as they are. I'm providing a link, but be warned, for those who are grossed out by skeletons and decaying mummies, it's probably not a good choice. But mostly, it looks like anything else you'd see in a horror movie (remember that scene in the Raiders of the Lost Ark?) except this time it's real.
If you do decide to check it out, be sure to check out the picture links on the left hand side of the page and also the professional photographer's link on the right hand side. The photos are poignant, seeing the clothing that was chosen for the dead and how carefully they are laid out. There are photos of babies and small children mummies, which is also sad, so be warned. But in one way, they continue to live on because people know their names and their stories whereas their contemporaries in other parts of the world have been buried under grave stones and forgotten.
One of the more fascinating of those is Rosalia Lombardo, a little girl who died more than 80 years ago, but due to a secret recipe of embalming materials, she looks like she's still alive and just sleeping.
Also, be sure to check out the clothing. It's interesting to see all the different styles and amazing to see how well the cloth has held up over the years.
Sorry if you find this morbid or disturbing. I've always been interested in stuff that's a little...dark : ) I find this fascinating and would love to use it in a book somehow. Can you imagine being the security guard at night in a place like this? Every little noise, every little rustle....ooooh. *shudder*
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Weird things I used to do...
-Clothes used to have to go on certain hangers, the exact hangers they came off of. And not because of any special qualities of the hanger (padded, wooden, etc). Some of these were just the cheapie dry cleaning hangers. But I felt like, for some reason, something bad would happen if the clothes weren't returned to the order I'd established. (Remember this, Becky?)
-Kept all my my make up in the individual boxes each product came in. Probably this once had a logical reason, like knowing the name of the product in case the sticker on the bottom of the bottle wore off, but it became another of those little things I obssessed about.
-Checked my alarm clock three times to make sure it was set. Only twice wasn't enough. If I accidently checked four times, then I had to go one more and make it five. Something about those even numbers...
-Whatever outfit I was wearing on a particularly bad day was from then on banned from being worn again. This I learned the hard way after wearing a sweater vest (that alone should have been bad enough) once and getting into a car accident and then a year later, deciding to give it another chance, and getting my first moving violation.
But I'm better now...at least on a few of those things. I don't do any of those things anymore (except the bad day outfit thing) because it's mainly superstition and fear of the unknown that pushed me to try to make rules for the universe (which the universe largely ignores anyway). Plus, I think superstition can almost reach fanatic heights and people follow the rules more religiously than they do their own religion. So, I try to remind myself that I'm a Lutheran instead : )
In spite of that, there are a few things that still get to me and I have to fix before I can relax.
-I hate seeing shoes tipped over on their sides or upside down. I think it just freaks me out, just like it does when I see shoes abandoned this way on the road. I blame this on Stephen King and his short story, "The Body." In it, a kid is killed by a train and knocked out of his shoes. So, at home, I have to tip shoes so their soles are on the ground.
-On light switch plates with multiple switches, it bugs me when one is up and one is down if both lights are actually on or off. In other words, if you have multiple switches for one light, you can turn it on in one place and turn it off in another and then your lightswitches are all out of sync.
-I have to check to make sure I've locked the door to my house at least twice. Even though I'm pretty sure I locked it, I always have to get out of the car and check. Unless I talk myself through the actual locking process of the door. "You're locking the door, Stacey. You don't have to come back and check." But then I'm just as likely as to suspect that I'm actually remembering telling myself that yesterday and I might have forgotten today. This I blame on my mother who, for as long as I can remember, sends herself into a panic after she's already three blocks or more away from home because she can't remember if she put the garage door down. And she doesn't trust her instinct, so we have to go back unless someone else in the car can verify that she did, in fact, put the door down and said person watched the door until it reached the ground and the door did not bounce back up due to some unforseen object in its path. Hee. That is soooo me.
What do you guys have to do? What weird things make you crazy? This reminds me of the episode of Friends with Monica and the shoes, and Richard, her boyfriend at the time, whose "thing" was that he needed to face the ocean.
-Kept all my my make up in the individual boxes each product came in. Probably this once had a logical reason, like knowing the name of the product in case the sticker on the bottom of the bottle wore off, but it became another of those little things I obssessed about.
-Checked my alarm clock three times to make sure it was set. Only twice wasn't enough. If I accidently checked four times, then I had to go one more and make it five. Something about those even numbers...
-Whatever outfit I was wearing on a particularly bad day was from then on banned from being worn again. This I learned the hard way after wearing a sweater vest (that alone should have been bad enough) once and getting into a car accident and then a year later, deciding to give it another chance, and getting my first moving violation.
But I'm better now...at least on a few of those things. I don't do any of those things anymore (except the bad day outfit thing) because it's mainly superstition and fear of the unknown that pushed me to try to make rules for the universe (which the universe largely ignores anyway). Plus, I think superstition can almost reach fanatic heights and people follow the rules more religiously than they do their own religion. So, I try to remind myself that I'm a Lutheran instead : )
In spite of that, there are a few things that still get to me and I have to fix before I can relax.
-I hate seeing shoes tipped over on their sides or upside down. I think it just freaks me out, just like it does when I see shoes abandoned this way on the road. I blame this on Stephen King and his short story, "The Body." In it, a kid is killed by a train and knocked out of his shoes. So, at home, I have to tip shoes so their soles are on the ground.
-On light switch plates with multiple switches, it bugs me when one is up and one is down if both lights are actually on or off. In other words, if you have multiple switches for one light, you can turn it on in one place and turn it off in another and then your lightswitches are all out of sync.
-I have to check to make sure I've locked the door to my house at least twice. Even though I'm pretty sure I locked it, I always have to get out of the car and check. Unless I talk myself through the actual locking process of the door. "You're locking the door, Stacey. You don't have to come back and check." But then I'm just as likely as to suspect that I'm actually remembering telling myself that yesterday and I might have forgotten today. This I blame on my mother who, for as long as I can remember, sends herself into a panic after she's already three blocks or more away from home because she can't remember if she put the garage door down. And she doesn't trust her instinct, so we have to go back unless someone else in the car can verify that she did, in fact, put the door down and said person watched the door until it reached the ground and the door did not bounce back up due to some unforseen object in its path. Hee. That is soooo me.
What do you guys have to do? What weird things make you crazy? This reminds me of the episode of Friends with Monica and the shoes, and Richard, her boyfriend at the time, whose "thing" was that he needed to face the ocean.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
My worst nightmare...
I have just finished availing myself of the copy machine here at Corporate America to make a photocopy of part of a manuscript. In addition to my fears of getting caught (though I actually got permission to do this...a long time ago), I'm always afraid of leaving behind just that one sheet of paper. And not just any sheet, but one page from the scene. In this particular manuscript, there are several such scenes, thus increasing the odds that the page left behind will be part of one that would likely shock some poor harmless co-worker in the morning. And maybe get me in trouble.
Next worse fear? That the copier will somehow jam up and either: a) my pages will get caught in the mechanism, forcing a call to the service guy who will then show them to whoever called and complained about the jam, or b) that the scanner part of machine will take in all my pages but then refuse to spit the copies out, until someone comes in the next morning and jiggles some switch and they all come pouring out.
Now, imagine any or all of that happening with a super hot love scene and you will understand why I have now made two trips to each of the copiers I used (best not to be in one place for too long, you see) to make sure nothing was left behind.
So far, so good...but I'll probably have to check one more time before I leave. Huh. I wonder what the symptoms are for the official onset of OCD. : )
Next worse fear? That the copier will somehow jam up and either: a) my pages will get caught in the mechanism, forcing a call to the service guy who will then show them to whoever called and complained about the jam, or b) that the scanner part of machine will take in all my pages but then refuse to spit the copies out, until someone comes in the next morning and jiggles some switch and they all come pouring out.
Now, imagine any or all of that happening with a super hot love scene and you will understand why I have now made two trips to each of the copiers I used (best not to be in one place for too long, you see) to make sure nothing was left behind.
So far, so good...but I'll probably have to check one more time before I leave. Huh. I wonder what the symptoms are for the official onset of OCD. : )
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
The Barnes and Noble Experience
I haven't had a chance to blog about this yet, what with all the house stuff going on. But it was a strange experience for me.
I've always been a homebody. Whatever I can do at home without going out is preferable to me. So, I've never understood the people who pack up their laptops and their ipods and go to work at a Barnes and Noble cafe table. I just don't get it.
But then a couple of weeks ago, fate intervened. We were on our way to Wisconsin for a family birthday celebration and I'd brought a laptop (not mine but Greg's...that's a whole other story) so I could work in the car on the way up. Between moving and working, I don't have a whole lot of spare time so I have to use what I have. Anyway, we had to make an emergency stop at the oil change place on our way up. The oil change place happens to be in the mall, as is a GIANT Barnes and Noble (two stories and everything!)
So I've got my regular bag over one shoulder and the laptop in a bag over my other shoulder and I'm limping through the mall. My regular bag alone probably weighs fifteen pounds with all the books, computer disks, notebooks, change, small portable pharmacy and everything else I carry around with me. Then with the computer on the other side...well, let's just say I felt like a pack mule.
So I beg off further mall wandering and find an available table at the back of Barnes and Noble. Now, I just happen to have both my laptop and ipod with me, so I decide to set up shop for a few minutes, just to see if I can figure out the allure of this location. And guess what...I did!
I spent the first five minutes feeling utterly self-conscious, like a giant cliche. Hello, yuppie with a laptop and an ipod in a Barnes and Noble. It could have only been worse if it was a Starbucks (which, actually, technically, I suppose it was, since Starbucks is the coffee of choice in the Barnes and Noble cafe.) But then as I got into what I was working on (GMC charts) and my ipod drowned out all the noise, all my fears of looking silly or pretentious disappeared. And I really got into the work. I was actually sad when Greg came to get me. So...I get it now, the Barnes and Noble effect, let's call it.
When you're there, no one's looking to you for anything. No one expects you to get up from the laptop and make dinner or answer the phone. You don't feel guilty for not picking up the house or vacuuming or whatever because you can't. None of those chores are there to be done. Chores are a frequent excuse writers use to keep from writing. I have no idea why. I hate doing chores way more than just about anything else. But if I really need to get stuff done around the house, all I have to do is think about sitting behind the computer and suddenly the dusting gets done. It's something about the vulnerability of sitting at the computer and facing a blank page or, worse yet, a page full of writing that seemed golden yesterday and seems mediocre today.
Barnes and Noble is a perfect place to write because you have no excuses. You could browse all the books, but you have to haul your computer around with you everywhere. It's easier just to sit there and write. And something about the environment seems to impersonal and business-y, that writing doesn't feel quite so personal and vulnerable. It's like going to an office to do your job. Plus, hello?!? Could you ask to be surrounded by more inspiration? Books, books, everywhere!
I'm not sure when or if I'll go back. If I weren't working the day job, I might go during the day, just to get the change of scenery. Something to keep in mind for the future, I guess.
What about you? Anybody else ever tried working like this at a bookstore/coffee shop?
I've always been a homebody. Whatever I can do at home without going out is preferable to me. So, I've never understood the people who pack up their laptops and their ipods and go to work at a Barnes and Noble cafe table. I just don't get it.
But then a couple of weeks ago, fate intervened. We were on our way to Wisconsin for a family birthday celebration and I'd brought a laptop (not mine but Greg's...that's a whole other story) so I could work in the car on the way up. Between moving and working, I don't have a whole lot of spare time so I have to use what I have. Anyway, we had to make an emergency stop at the oil change place on our way up. The oil change place happens to be in the mall, as is a GIANT Barnes and Noble (two stories and everything!)
So I've got my regular bag over one shoulder and the laptop in a bag over my other shoulder and I'm limping through the mall. My regular bag alone probably weighs fifteen pounds with all the books, computer disks, notebooks, change, small portable pharmacy and everything else I carry around with me. Then with the computer on the other side...well, let's just say I felt like a pack mule.
So I beg off further mall wandering and find an available table at the back of Barnes and Noble. Now, I just happen to have both my laptop and ipod with me, so I decide to set up shop for a few minutes, just to see if I can figure out the allure of this location. And guess what...I did!
I spent the first five minutes feeling utterly self-conscious, like a giant cliche. Hello, yuppie with a laptop and an ipod in a Barnes and Noble. It could have only been worse if it was a Starbucks (which, actually, technically, I suppose it was, since Starbucks is the coffee of choice in the Barnes and Noble cafe.) But then as I got into what I was working on (GMC charts) and my ipod drowned out all the noise, all my fears of looking silly or pretentious disappeared. And I really got into the work. I was actually sad when Greg came to get me. So...I get it now, the Barnes and Noble effect, let's call it.
When you're there, no one's looking to you for anything. No one expects you to get up from the laptop and make dinner or answer the phone. You don't feel guilty for not picking up the house or vacuuming or whatever because you can't. None of those chores are there to be done. Chores are a frequent excuse writers use to keep from writing. I have no idea why. I hate doing chores way more than just about anything else. But if I really need to get stuff done around the house, all I have to do is think about sitting behind the computer and suddenly the dusting gets done. It's something about the vulnerability of sitting at the computer and facing a blank page or, worse yet, a page full of writing that seemed golden yesterday and seems mediocre today.
Barnes and Noble is a perfect place to write because you have no excuses. You could browse all the books, but you have to haul your computer around with you everywhere. It's easier just to sit there and write. And something about the environment seems to impersonal and business-y, that writing doesn't feel quite so personal and vulnerable. It's like going to an office to do your job. Plus, hello?!? Could you ask to be surrounded by more inspiration? Books, books, everywhere!
I'm not sure when or if I'll go back. If I weren't working the day job, I might go during the day, just to get the change of scenery. Something to keep in mind for the future, I guess.
What about you? Anybody else ever tried working like this at a bookstore/coffee shop?
Monday, August 15, 2005
Well, well, #$%^ing well!
As you can probably surmise from the title of this particular entry, our adventures into homeownership are not going as well as I'd like. We've owned four homes now (this is the fourth and technically the first one was a townhouse but you get the idea) and none of them have ever been this...complicated.
Some of it is our fault. After the HUGE move last year to our new house (the one with absolutely no problems...at least maintenance-wise), I couldn't face the idea of ordering boxes and packing up the whole house again. So, we're doing this the gradual way. Which allows us to take over a few boxes at a time and put things away. But I'm beginning to think this is akin to slow band-aid removal. Except worse. This is the slow removal of duct tape over some particularly hairy patch of skin. It's dragging out soooooo long, and I never feel like I can relax because there are always more boxes to bring over or pack. But our current house is under contract, so at least I know there's an end in sight, September 13, as a matter of fact.
Plus, then there are issues. Our new house (which is, in fact, older than our old house...ha! Figure that one out!) doesn't have city water. So, now we're wrangling with well water and a water softener and 40 pound bags of salt. (Also, wherever it says "we" or "our" in this entry, please read it as "me" or "I" or "my" as appropriate since my loving husband, who is working very hard to be a success in two different careers at the same time, has delegated the bulk of this lovely task to me. Yeah...I'm so getting a freaking amazing anniversary gift this year. *grin*)
I've never had well water before. I thought it would be pretty easy. It's just a hole in the ground with water, right? How complicated can it be? Well, let me tell you, way more complicated than it sounds. You have to have the water tested and then you have to have the well "shocked," which, contrary to my wishful thinking, does not involve standing in front of the well and swearing a blue streak. Instead, it involves huge amounts of chlorine that go into your pipes and clear out all the muck. Sounds good , right? Except all the muck has to come out somewhere. It fills up your sinks, bathtubs, showers and toilet with black silt-y muck. That, of course, now has to be cleaned up.
Seriously, I've stepped into a remake of The Money Pit. Remember that scene where Shelley Long's character turns on the water in the tub and it comes out all black and clumpy? So very close to the truth. Tom Hanks's character tells her it'll be all right and she says, "You didn't see that water!" I can relate to this now. I'm waiting for my trees to collapse ("We have very weak trees.") and the oven to shoot a turkey out through the window and into the bathroom. Of course, for that to happen, I'd probably have to put the turkey in the oven first. And we all know how inclined I am toward cooking.
Anyway, all this babbling is simply to explain why I've been a bit of an absentee blogger of late. I'm hoping things will get better soon. After all, September 13 is less than a month away. And, hey, you know if anyone else wants to see what horror my new (old) house will throw at me next, please feel free to join me in the packing, the moving, the unpacking and cleaning of black mucky silt of every available surface (yes, for muck it was surprisingly "splashy"). : )
Some of it is our fault. After the HUGE move last year to our new house (the one with absolutely no problems...at least maintenance-wise), I couldn't face the idea of ordering boxes and packing up the whole house again. So, we're doing this the gradual way. Which allows us to take over a few boxes at a time and put things away. But I'm beginning to think this is akin to slow band-aid removal. Except worse. This is the slow removal of duct tape over some particularly hairy patch of skin. It's dragging out soooooo long, and I never feel like I can relax because there are always more boxes to bring over or pack. But our current house is under contract, so at least I know there's an end in sight, September 13, as a matter of fact.
Plus, then there are issues. Our new house (which is, in fact, older than our old house...ha! Figure that one out!) doesn't have city water. So, now we're wrangling with well water and a water softener and 40 pound bags of salt. (Also, wherever it says "we" or "our" in this entry, please read it as "me" or "I" or "my" as appropriate since my loving husband, who is working very hard to be a success in two different careers at the same time, has delegated the bulk of this lovely task to me. Yeah...I'm so getting a freaking amazing anniversary gift this year. *grin*)
I've never had well water before. I thought it would be pretty easy. It's just a hole in the ground with water, right? How complicated can it be? Well, let me tell you, way more complicated than it sounds. You have to have the water tested and then you have to have the well "shocked," which, contrary to my wishful thinking, does not involve standing in front of the well and swearing a blue streak. Instead, it involves huge amounts of chlorine that go into your pipes and clear out all the muck. Sounds good , right? Except all the muck has to come out somewhere. It fills up your sinks, bathtubs, showers and toilet with black silt-y muck. That, of course, now has to be cleaned up.
Seriously, I've stepped into a remake of The Money Pit. Remember that scene where Shelley Long's character turns on the water in the tub and it comes out all black and clumpy? So very close to the truth. Tom Hanks's character tells her it'll be all right and she says, "You didn't see that water!" I can relate to this now. I'm waiting for my trees to collapse ("We have very weak trees.") and the oven to shoot a turkey out through the window and into the bathroom. Of course, for that to happen, I'd probably have to put the turkey in the oven first. And we all know how inclined I am toward cooking.
Anyway, all this babbling is simply to explain why I've been a bit of an absentee blogger of late. I'm hoping things will get better soon. After all, September 13 is less than a month away. And, hey, you know if anyone else wants to see what horror my new (old) house will throw at me next, please feel free to join me in the packing, the moving, the unpacking and cleaning of black mucky silt of every available surface (yes, for muck it was surprisingly "splashy"). : )
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Yea!
Our house is under contract, as of last night! That's one big worry off of my mind. So, now we've really got to concentrate on getting into the new house.
Also, I just wrote this huge explanation about GMC and how to use it, but I'm afraid it reveals just a little too much about the plot of a story that I haven't quite finished yet. So, I'm going to hold back and write another, less-revealing, example tomorrow. But as I started the entry, a certain bit of phrasing caught my attention and made me think about something I haven't thought about it years. So, I'm going to share that here instead...
Okay, I realized that I haven't posted about writing in a really, really long time. It's not because I'm not doing it. I am...every single day.
Total tangent: That phrase, "I'm not doing it," reminds me of a church camp I went to as a teenager where a speaker promoting abstinence gave us these hot pink bumper stickers that stated, "I'm NOT doing it." We were supposed to put them on our cars or lockers at school or whatever to tell everyone we weren't sexually active. Right. Like anyone would have assumed otherwise after seeing me in high school. Giant Sally Jesse Raphael red glasses, big bangs, acid washed jeans "pegged" at the ankles so tight I could barely walk, keds without socks even in winter, and a mouthful of orthodontic equipment. Whew. Thank goodness I had that sticker to clear up any possible confusion about my sexual habits.
Anyway, what I thought was funny, aside from the fact that this woman actually expected us to advertise our virginity (and yes, I do think virginity is a good thing for high school students but expecting us to loudly proclaim it was a bit unrealistic), was that some of the girls at the camp actually wore the stickers. However, they did so by sticking them across the ass of their shorts, thus drawing more attention than usual to that part of their anatomy...oh, sweet irony, how I've missed you!
/end tangent.
Also, I just wrote this huge explanation about GMC and how to use it, but I'm afraid it reveals just a little too much about the plot of a story that I haven't quite finished yet. So, I'm going to hold back and write another, less-revealing, example tomorrow. But as I started the entry, a certain bit of phrasing caught my attention and made me think about something I haven't thought about it years. So, I'm going to share that here instead...
Okay, I realized that I haven't posted about writing in a really, really long time. It's not because I'm not doing it. I am...every single day.
Total tangent: That phrase, "I'm not doing it," reminds me of a church camp I went to as a teenager where a speaker promoting abstinence gave us these hot pink bumper stickers that stated, "I'm NOT doing it." We were supposed to put them on our cars or lockers at school or whatever to tell everyone we weren't sexually active. Right. Like anyone would have assumed otherwise after seeing me in high school. Giant Sally Jesse Raphael red glasses, big bangs, acid washed jeans "pegged" at the ankles so tight I could barely walk, keds without socks even in winter, and a mouthful of orthodontic equipment. Whew. Thank goodness I had that sticker to clear up any possible confusion about my sexual habits.
Anyway, what I thought was funny, aside from the fact that this woman actually expected us to advertise our virginity (and yes, I do think virginity is a good thing for high school students but expecting us to loudly proclaim it was a bit unrealistic), was that some of the girls at the camp actually wore the stickers. However, they did so by sticking them across the ass of their shorts, thus drawing more attention than usual to that part of their anatomy...oh, sweet irony, how I've missed you!
/end tangent.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Still stressed...
The house is coming together, slowly. The new carpeting was installed and was somehow stained in the process. Ugh. So, now I have to have them come back out and try to remove the stain. I do hope they don't try to blame it on us somehow, or I will be upset...to put it mildly.
I'm also in the process of revising another of my stories, in addition to writing the sequel for The Silver Spoon. One of the new techniques I'm trying out is GMC. GMC is short for Goal, Motivation and Conflict. It's based on a book of the same name by Debra Dixon. It's actually been kind of cool to see how it works because when you do it, your characters instantly get these really detailed backstories and immediate conflicts. For any writers out there, the GMC exercise is kind of time-consuming but so far, it's been worth it. I'll try to post an example tomorrow for anyone who's interested in how it works.
I'm trying to teach myself to write more efficiently. I write first drafts pretty quickly but then it takes me years to sort out the mess I've made. For a career in writing, I think you've got be able to cut down the time between first draft and final draft. Plus, I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing, make it more powerful and engaging.
Well, I'm off to finish off GMCs for like five more characters. Eeek. My goal was to have them finished by this weekend, but I didn't quite make it. : ) However, I made more progress that I would have probably without setting the goal in the first place! That reminds me, I'll have to tell you about my cool experience in Barnes and Noble the other day...
I'm also in the process of revising another of my stories, in addition to writing the sequel for The Silver Spoon. One of the new techniques I'm trying out is GMC. GMC is short for Goal, Motivation and Conflict. It's based on a book of the same name by Debra Dixon. It's actually been kind of cool to see how it works because when you do it, your characters instantly get these really detailed backstories and immediate conflicts. For any writers out there, the GMC exercise is kind of time-consuming but so far, it's been worth it. I'll try to post an example tomorrow for anyone who's interested in how it works.
I'm trying to teach myself to write more efficiently. I write first drafts pretty quickly but then it takes me years to sort out the mess I've made. For a career in writing, I think you've got be able to cut down the time between first draft and final draft. Plus, I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing, make it more powerful and engaging.
Well, I'm off to finish off GMCs for like five more characters. Eeek. My goal was to have them finished by this weekend, but I didn't quite make it. : ) However, I made more progress that I would have probably without setting the goal in the first place! That reminds me, I'll have to tell you about my cool experience in Barnes and Noble the other day...
Friday, August 05, 2005
Bad things can happen to nice writers...
I've been a little out of the loop this week, so I haven't been on top of the goings-on like I normally am (ha). But anyway, I discovered this week that Marianne Mancusi's (author of A Connecticut Fashionista in King Arthur's Court, one of my favorite books this year) house burned down after a lightning strike. Marianne and I met briefly at RT. She was very nice, though, at the time, she was struggling because the airline had lost her luggage!
Fortunately, Marianne was not home at the time of the fire, thank goodness, as she was attending the RWA convention in Reno (that's Romance Writers of America). However, she did not have renter's insurance (oh, I'm cringing on the inside as I write this because I've written whole brochures about how it's important to have renter's insurance because your landlord's insurance doesn't cover diddley-squat when it comes to your personal possessions...it's one of those things people don't always know about or think about very often, but it can really save you a lot of money if you end up needing it.../end insurance pitch) so she's lost everything.
Anyway, to raise money, the Literary Chicks (Chick lit authors Alesia Holliday, Michelle Cunnah, and Lani Diane Rich) are going to be auctioning off some very cool things through eBay. It's not set up quite yet, but when it is, you'll be able to bid on signed books, critiques by known agents/editors/authors (like Steve Axelrod/Cindy Hwang/Jennifer Cruisie), and probably a lot more. So, when you get a couple minutes, please check it out. You might get the chance to buy something really cool and help someone out at the same time.
Fortunately, Marianne was not home at the time of the fire, thank goodness, as she was attending the RWA convention in Reno (that's Romance Writers of America). However, she did not have renter's insurance (oh, I'm cringing on the inside as I write this because I've written whole brochures about how it's important to have renter's insurance because your landlord's insurance doesn't cover diddley-squat when it comes to your personal possessions...it's one of those things people don't always know about or think about very often, but it can really save you a lot of money if you end up needing it.../end insurance pitch) so she's lost everything.
Anyway, to raise money, the Literary Chicks (Chick lit authors Alesia Holliday, Michelle Cunnah, and Lani Diane Rich) are going to be auctioning off some very cool things through eBay. It's not set up quite yet, but when it is, you'll be able to bid on signed books, critiques by known agents/editors/authors (like Steve Axelrod/Cindy Hwang/Jennifer Cruisie), and probably a lot more. So, when you get a couple minutes, please check it out. You might get the chance to buy something really cool and help someone out at the same time.
I'm back
I still have paint in my hair and on my toes and the back of my leg. Such is the price for do-it-yourself. I'm never doing this again...at least not with this kind of time crunch and by myself, to boot. This morning, I could finally close my left hand into a fist. My right hand is still too stiff and painful from wielding the roller. It sounds like I'm kidding, but I'm actually not.
Just for fun, here's how this week looks by the numbers:
Deadline: 9:00 a.m., Thursday, 8/4
Rooms to be painted: 3 (plus a large closet)
Hours logged in priming, painting, spackling, sanding, etc.: Approximately 50 (Saturday morning to very, very early Thursday morning)
Cans of primer: 5 (4 of them in one room alone)
Cans of paint: 7 (Polar Bear, Morning Breeze, Antique White and a custom color)
Supplies used: 14 roller covers, 3 rollers, 6 sponge paintbrushes, 6 regular paintbrushes, one edger, 4 mini-rollers, 7 mini-roller covers, 8 paint trays, 1 tub of spackle, 3 putty knives, 3 rolls of painters tape, 1 screwdriver, 1 paint can opener, 1 hammer, 2 pieces of sandpaper, 2 tarps, 1 extension pole and 1 ladder.
Injuries: 8-10 bruises, 1 scrape, 1 gash (on the bottom of my foot from stepping off the ladder onto the sharp end of a hammer...don't ask), 6 new calluses and a multitude of sore and strained muscles.
Falls from the ladder: 0 (though it was very, very close at least once.)
Cans of paint spilled: 0
Rooms completed: 3. The closet has been primed but not painted.
Time completed: 2:08 a.m., Thursday, 8/4
Carpet arrived: 9:30 a.m., Thursday, 8/4
A big thank you to my brother, Michael, who came over and helped me out every night for a few hours while my husband was in NJ for work (and eating in Little Italy and seeing a Broadway show...yeah, who got the sucky end of this deal?!?)
I hope to have at least a couple before and after pictures to show soon! : )
Just for fun, here's how this week looks by the numbers:
Deadline: 9:00 a.m., Thursday, 8/4
Rooms to be painted: 3 (plus a large closet)
Hours logged in priming, painting, spackling, sanding, etc.: Approximately 50 (Saturday morning to very, very early Thursday morning)
Cans of primer: 5 (4 of them in one room alone)
Cans of paint: 7 (Polar Bear, Morning Breeze, Antique White and a custom color)
Supplies used: 14 roller covers, 3 rollers, 6 sponge paintbrushes, 6 regular paintbrushes, one edger, 4 mini-rollers, 7 mini-roller covers, 8 paint trays, 1 tub of spackle, 3 putty knives, 3 rolls of painters tape, 1 screwdriver, 1 paint can opener, 1 hammer, 2 pieces of sandpaper, 2 tarps, 1 extension pole and 1 ladder.
Injuries: 8-10 bruises, 1 scrape, 1 gash (on the bottom of my foot from stepping off the ladder onto the sharp end of a hammer...don't ask), 6 new calluses and a multitude of sore and strained muscles.
Falls from the ladder: 0 (though it was very, very close at least once.)
Cans of paint spilled: 0
Rooms completed: 3. The closet has been primed but not painted.
Time completed: 2:08 a.m., Thursday, 8/4
Carpet arrived: 9:30 a.m., Thursday, 8/4
A big thank you to my brother, Michael, who came over and helped me out every night for a few hours while my husband was in NJ for work (and eating in Little Italy and seeing a Broadway show...yeah, who got the sucky end of this deal?!?)
I hope to have at least a couple before and after pictures to show soon! : )
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Neck deep in primer...
I haven't disappeared off the face of the earth. I'm just about drowning in paint, though. We closed on our new house on Friday, yeah! We have new carpeting coming on this Thursday. Also a good thing. Except three rooms of the house still need to be painted. Ugh. So every spare minute is going toward that effort, trying to get it done before the carpeting arrives. I don't want to spend all that money on new carpeting and then drop blobs of paint all over it (I'm a terrible painter and new carpeting is expensive!)
So, I beg of you to forgive me, a slacker blogger this week, while we finish up. I will be posting pictures of our progress...as soon as I can figure out how to get them off the digital camera!
So, I beg of you to forgive me, a slacker blogger this week, while we finish up. I will be posting pictures of our progress...as soon as I can figure out how to get them off the digital camera!
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