Out of the blue, on November 8, I jumped into writing a novel for National Novel Writing Month, having zero expectation of finishing because even when I had a full 30 days I rarely got the job done. Fueled by Diet Pepsi, insomnia, and Linkin Park, I've reached 42,000 words and counting by today, the home stretch.
I have no idea if the story or the writing are excellent or complete rubbish. I can't be objective. I only know it's the most exhaustive, draining fun I've had in ages. There are a billion problems and edits to make, but I believe in the story this time. Whether or not it's a bestseller, it has worth to me.
The finished story will be much larger than 50,000 words, so the midnight deadline doesn't have a lot of meaning. My real deadline is to finish the rough draft by the end of the year, and to edit it into something worth sharing by springtime.
I've had many favorite songs over the years. This is the current one. No one offers writing fuel like Linkin Park.
CASTLE OF GLASS
Linkin Park
Take me down to the river bend
Take me down to the fighting end
Wash the poison from off my skin
Show me how to be whole again
Fly me up on a silver wing
Past the black where the sirens sing
Warm me up in a nova's glow
And drop me down to the dream below
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see
Bring me home in a blinding dream,
Through the secrets that I have seen
Wash the sorrow from off my skin
And show me how to be whole again
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything else I need to be
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see
For you to see
Friday, November 30, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
The next Justin Bieber
Although it hurts my heart a little that he still doesn't speak much or enjoy books, Fletcher is in a constant state of learning and growing that brightens my life. There's at least one moment out of every day that I think, This is what I'm going to miss when he's grown up.
He dances now – bobbing his head to the beat, jumping up and down, swinging his arms, twirling in circles. He'll try to imitate what he sees me doing or what he sees in a movie, clapping when we clap and spinning when we spin. In the bathtub, he break dances on his butt.
I have never experienced someone with the energy that he has. He puts it to good use. After a great deal of practice, he is one amazing jumper. He crouches low, puts his arms into it, and gets air as both feet lift off. This week, he went back and forth jumping the foot of space between a couch and a mattress in the basement, getting red in the face and out of breath but having too much fun to stop.
He sings too. This fact has changed how I feel about his apathy toward using words. After all, words are just one tiny way in a vast world of ways to communicate. (We rarely have trouble knowing what he's "saying.") I know when he likes a song by the singing sounds he makes – he doesn't change pitch a whole lot. Of course, it's cute that he can't carry a tune. And the visible joy he gets from joining the song make me wonder... Dancing? Singing? Could he be the next Justin Bieber?
He had a lot of energy last night and didn't wind down until after 11 pm. Then at 4 am, his screaming woke me. Expecting a foot or arm to be stuck between crib bars, I rolled out of bed to check on him. He wasn't stuck. He immediately stood up though, grabbing his blankets, and said, "Up." I expected to hold him until he calmed and then set him back in the crib. He had other ideas. He pointed to the door, so I walked to the door. He pointed to the stairs, so I walked there too. "Down," he said clearly.
So I'm not worried by his disinterest in words. He'll say them if it gets him something he desperately wants. He says "no" if anything at all doesn't meet his approval. He says "eat" if it makes a critter in an ipod game eat the food on the screen. A handful of times, he's said "help" and "open" and made animal and car noises.
For now, he dances his happiness, sings his joy, screams his anger, and giggles his mirth. He pulls and points and looks us straight in the eyes before he kisses us. That's the only I love you I need.
He dances now – bobbing his head to the beat, jumping up and down, swinging his arms, twirling in circles. He'll try to imitate what he sees me doing or what he sees in a movie, clapping when we clap and spinning when we spin. In the bathtub, he break dances on his butt.
I have never experienced someone with the energy that he has. He puts it to good use. After a great deal of practice, he is one amazing jumper. He crouches low, puts his arms into it, and gets air as both feet lift off. This week, he went back and forth jumping the foot of space between a couch and a mattress in the basement, getting red in the face and out of breath but having too much fun to stop.
He sings too. This fact has changed how I feel about his apathy toward using words. After all, words are just one tiny way in a vast world of ways to communicate. (We rarely have trouble knowing what he's "saying.") I know when he likes a song by the singing sounds he makes – he doesn't change pitch a whole lot. Of course, it's cute that he can't carry a tune. And the visible joy he gets from joining the song make me wonder... Dancing? Singing? Could he be the next Justin Bieber?
He had a lot of energy last night and didn't wind down until after 11 pm. Then at 4 am, his screaming woke me. Expecting a foot or arm to be stuck between crib bars, I rolled out of bed to check on him. He wasn't stuck. He immediately stood up though, grabbing his blankets, and said, "Up." I expected to hold him until he calmed and then set him back in the crib. He had other ideas. He pointed to the door, so I walked to the door. He pointed to the stairs, so I walked there too. "Down," he said clearly.
So I'm not worried by his disinterest in words. He'll say them if it gets him something he desperately wants. He says "no" if anything at all doesn't meet his approval. He says "eat" if it makes a critter in an ipod game eat the food on the screen. A handful of times, he's said "help" and "open" and made animal and car noises.
For now, he dances his happiness, sings his joy, screams his anger, and giggles his mirth. He pulls and points and looks us straight in the eyes before he kisses us. That's the only I love you I need.
Monday, November 5, 2012
In which I cast a fake movie
I'm becoming progressively more addicted to fast-read, guilty-pleasure novels downloaded instantly from Amazon. One is Cora Carmack's Losing It, and the lovely author is having a contest that I'm compelled to enter (the prize happens to be more of these addicting books). It requires a blog post of my dream cast if the book were to become a movie. Of course the actors must all be young and gorgeous. A couple of these actors aren't very famous, but I think they have the right age and look.
Garrick: Alex Pettyfer
Bliss: Lily Collins
Cade: Bryce Hayes
Kelsey: Emma Roberts
and for kicks, Dom: Boyd Holbrook
Garrick: Alex Pettyfer
Bliss: Lily Collins
Cade: Bryce Hayes
Kelsey: Emma Roberts
and for kicks, Dom: Boyd Holbrook
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