Free Falling

            The jock slammed into the blonde’s elbow as he jumped to catch the ball in the middle of the hallway.  The rubber band around the note cards broke sending the small pieces of papers flying across the floor.  Laughter floated in the air as kids pointed at her as they disappeared into the classroom.  A young man in tattered jeans helped collect her cards.  She smiled in relief as he handed her the unorganized mess.

            The screech of the tardy bell caused him to groan.  He followed her into the room only to face the anger of their teacher.  The pretty blonde explained the reason for his third tardy, but no understanding flowed from the adult, detention.  She managed to slip him a note card later in the day suggesting they meet at the dance.  Hope welled up.

Walking into the gym, he ignored the lurid comments of his friends as they trailed in behind him.  The urge to turn around to leave left him as he caught sight of the golden blonde hair of the girl.  The skirt of her white dress swayed against her legs.  She looked like an angel.  He envisioned her with wings.  As if hypnotized, he skirted the dance floor finding a place on the bleachers.  The guys pointed out different girls they desired.  He disregarded them watching her every move.  Frozen in place, he watched in horror as she walked towards him with a smile on her face.

            “Man, I would like to tap that.” 

The crude words woke him.  He slid off the bleachers with cat calls following him.  The music played a new song drowning them out.  Her lips moved as he stopped in front of her but he couldn’t hear.  Smiling she took his hand leading him further onto the dance floor.  Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed in holding tightly.  Her hair smelled of coconut.  His heart stirred.

“I am sorry about today.  Mr. Ross should not have kicked you out of class.”  Her blue eyes peered into his. 

He shrugged afraid to break the spell he felt.  Neither of them spoke for the rest of the song.  They saw only the smiles on each other’s face.  All around them, her friends glared at them and whispered.  As the song ended, she caught sight of their teacher striding across the floor.  She pulled him to the exit before they could be reached.

Sliding onto the black car seat, he thanked her again for the ride.  The playlist in her stereo confused him.  Rock, Christian, country, classical, jazz, she listened to all genres.  His discomfort eased as she told funny stories of her quirky mom and serious dad.  She loved her family.  Pulling off the highway, he noticed his father sitting in a lawn chair next to the dilapidated stairs leading to their singlewide trailer house.  He cringed. Spontaneously, he kissed the back of her hand like he saw once when watching one of his mom’s favorite old movies.  Before the old man could interrupt, he jumped out of the car.  She blew him a kiss and sped down the four lane highway. 

            The smell of stale bear permeated the air.  His father roared at him for not introducing him to his classy new friend.  Mockery dripped from his father’s mouth as he talked about stepping across the social boundaries.  The young man defended with words.  A fist flew quicker then imaginable in a drunken state.  Blood flowed from his nose running down onto his old t-shirt.  He turned on his heel.  The old man’s swear words followed him in the night.

Standing at the top of the mountain, he felt her arms around him once again.  His mind struggled with the likelihood that she actually liked him.  She talked sincerely.  In the couple of months they shared the class, he felt safe in her presence.  Teasing him from time to time, a friendship developed.  He lived for her greeting.  In fact, his only interest in attending school was to see her.  He sat.  Smoke curled around his body sitting on the edge of the cliff face.  His legs dangled over the side.  Could they become a couple?  Could he escape the violence?  Visions of cruelty between his parents, his mother walking out the door with a suitcase in hand, hope floated away with the wind.  An owl swooped past, white wings.  The grace of flight intrigued him.  He longed to fly away.  His legs wobbled as he stood up.  Lifting his arms, the wind encouraged him forward.  For a few short moments, he glided until the world turned black.

            She wept.

Editing with Saga

            For years, I hated editing.  I heard the faint laughter of Saga, the Norse goddess associated with writing, while I painstakingly worried about every word not having a clue what I was doing.  After a long time searching for tools to make the process easier, I finally found them.  I still drag myself to the chair, but my focus stays strong with Saga nudging me in hopefully the right areas to make my stories clearer and more entertaining.

            This past month, I attacked my first novel written with gusto.  I spent 45 hours developing chapters 1 though 11.  At times, I actually enjoyed the process and happily watched the pages go walking by (note not flying by but not trudging either) in a finished state of being.  Last week, I started chapter 12.  Now, I knew this chapter would be a challenge.  When my husband read it a couple of years ago, he stopped at this point.  He never finished the book.  His comments where something like, “the beginning is a great story but then you got to this part and started rushing.”  Yesterday I called him and said he could tell me he told me so.  I think I have about 10 scenes crowded into about 22 pages.  The first three I rewrote and organized.  Yesterday it took me over an hour to fix 1.5 pages.  I took my main character and the rest of the dog sledding teams about 40 miles with some swishing sounds and a dashing rabbit and grazing deer.  Horrible.  I hadn’t even described the clothing they wore. 

I am happy to say now Corrion is bundled up in the bear fur her dear friend Guri gave her with wool socks on her feet.  Yes, she is wearing a hat and mittensJ  However, along the journey when she takes a corner too tightly, a tree branch clipped the top of her head spilling snow down the front of her shirt.  She then has to drive the rest of the way into the city with a frozen shirt and chattering teeth.  Now the scene is a solid 3 pages.  Today I get to rewrite the 1.5 page city scene after she changes out of the wet clothes of course.

Editing still isn’t my favorite task, but I am doing better with it as each day goes by.  Of course, I still hear a chuckle from time to time from Saga.  In fact, she has been laughing wholeheartedly at me while I write today.  Yet, I smile at her.  I am still working.  I haven’t given up.  I will finish this novel.  My goal had been to finish it last month and start editing book 2 this month.  I am behind, but I will prevail.

Declining NaNo

For the last couple of weeks, I have been struggling with what to do in November.  In 2010, I participated in the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) or even shorter, the NaNo.  I had a blast and succeeded in reaching my 50,000 words.  Then I never finished the book.  In 2011, I took the year off from NaNo because I was very busy.  November is also the month my church does a huge retreat weekend.  I worked the entire weekend and knew I wouldn’t have the time with my son’s football games and Thanksgiving to get the needed 50,000 words written.  However, I missed the event terribly.  Last year, I again worked the month winning once again.  This second book is sitting in my yet to be finished folder.  Both NaNo’s taught me a ton and I loved the work.  This year though I have been debating to take part or not.

                I am working just a small part for the retreat weekend; however, I do have a weeklong obligation that will keep me from the keyboard.  Between both activities, I will not be writing for a good eight days.  This isn’t even factoring Thanksgiving!  Another problem is that I am doing an online book cover class.  I haven’t a clue how much time this is going to take out of my schedule.  I really want to put all my energy into learning this part of the business and I don’t want to be torn between the strict word deadlines along with the class deadlines.  Alas, I am also exhausted.  This last month, I hit editing really hard.  I doubled all my times with the goal of finishing my pre NaNo novel to be published early next year.  I didn’t realize how draining this would be.  I am burnt out.  Plus, I still have two more chapters to go to finish it up.

                So, I have been leaning towards not doing the NaNo.  My husband and I have talked about it and as he pointed out, I still have tons of work.  My second book that follows this first one in the series is at about 45,000 words.  I need to not only edit the book but also need to add about 50,000 words.  (Hum, this is the amount for the NaNo.)  After that I have my original NaNo that I need to finish and edit.  This is a really complicated book with three different points of view with three different timelines.  I am really saving it until I become a stronger writer so I don’t kill it too much.  But the fact remains, I have these two novels, a nonfiction book, and a bunch of short stories not finished.  Maybe it would best behoove me to finish my projects before starting a new one.

                This morning as I slogged through my morning tasks of reading the latest writers’ blogs that I follow and writing up pathetic morning pages (with the NaNo in the back of my thoughts), I came across a quote from a writer that I follow.  “When you are finished with a story or novel, get it out and move on.” - See more at: http://www.deanwesleysmith.com/#sthash.BHSmytYE.dpuf  I need to finish my work.  Since about April, that has been my main focus.  I have finished up five short stories and am almost finished with my novel, Pursuing Destiny.  I need to keep going.  So, with a heavy heart, I am going to decline the challenge of the NaNo.  Instead, I am continuing with my personal challenge to clean our my still working file until I am left just one novel project and one short story project.  If I find myself bored, I may try getting those 50,000 done for the book.

Time is Flying

                Two weeks have flown by with not one blog posted.  My writing life and personal life have exploded in an array of activities and I love it, but I find myself missing a little leisure time.  My typical week starts with a Bible Study in the morning, editing in the afternoon, a little family time, and a church meeting in the evening.  Tuesday is a little slower with writing activities mixed with house work during the day, a little family time, and a second Bible Study.  I am never quite sure my entire schedule on Wednesday.  Some mornings, I have my 4^th Day group and I like running errands.  In the evening, I did have photography class, but this is over and I am going to work at keeping this evening free though last night I helped my daughter babysit until two in the morning.  Uff da!!!  Thursday’s I get to stay in my pajamas as long as I like in the morning with writing and housework as my only must dos.  Every other Thursday evening I help with my daughters Girl Scout troop.  On Fridays, I usually get to rest, but this week I have to hit the editing harder; plus, we are having an overnight troop activity.  My weekends are quiet and calm with just church and cleaning a computer office building which takes a little over an hour.  However, after last night, I need to work harder on the writing.

                As I reread one of the middle scenes in chapter 5, I realize it was horrid.  I needed to do a 20 minute rewrite that I learned from Natalie Goldberg.  My verbs were at a 1:0 ratio of active verses passive.  Instead of a fifteen minute edit, this put me into an hour to two hour edit if I am lucky on one single scene.  My hope of getting three chapters done in a ten hour week crumbled.  I know the rest of the novel will be this way because looking at the edits from this spring, I only made it through chapter 4.  The book is 13 chapters with no ending as of yet.  I am not sure how many hours I will now have to do in a week to get the book finished this month.  I see my next three weekends packed with editing.  Ugg!

                My motto for the month is “just keep editing, editing, editing.”  One author I know via the internet talks about all the fun he has with his writing career.  On many days, I agree with him wholeheartedly.  Today?  I am not going to think about the long hours of polishing, pulling verbs out of thin air, sitting my butt in the chair, ignoring my poor gardens that need a fall cleaning, and all of that.  Instead, I am going to listen to loud music and thank God I don’t have a day job to make this work twenty times harder.  I am also going to hope that my family doesn’t notice the extra chores they are going to get in the next three weeks and the missing matriarch of the house.

                Blessings.

 

Texts

         About a month ago, I read a short snippet of a book discussing short pieces of writing.  An idea of petite short stories came to my thoughts.  I became really excited and bought the book.  I have read about half the book only to be a bit disappointed.  The material is mainly about texts, tweets, Facebook comments and the like.  However, I still like my idea of writing a petite short story to post once a month here on my blog.  So, here is my first one.  Please feel free to tell me what you think.

 

Texts

The alarm’s incessant beeping interrupted her sleep as she reached across the pile of books on her night stand to hit the snooze button.  She closed her eyes trying to recapture the dream, but the images eluded her.  In defeat, she sat up in bed.  The scent of fresh coffee floated into the room, her favorite time of the day.  Standing up, she switched off the alarm and headed to the bathroom for her daily shower.  After dressing, she padded in stocking feet into the kitchen poring herself a cup of black liquid.  At the window she sat watching cars drive past in a hurry to get to their destination.  She flipped open her phone and texted, “I hope you are having a great day.”

            The morning rolled by with meetings, typing, and lunch.  In the afternoon, a colleague stepped in her office with a vein pulsing on his neck.  They discussed the ongoing crisis of his hating his job.  After he walked out the door a little less red and a little happier, she checked her messages.  None.  Sighing in disappointment, she tried again her fingers hit a multitude of letters.  “I am so tired of Greg’s complaining every day.  He needs to just find a new job.”  She caressed the smooth plastic on the front of the phone.

          As the sun descended to the tree line, B’elanna, the Welsh terrier, pulled on the leash as they circled around the lake path for the second time.  She released the cord to let the dog run free as she took a seat on the park bench pulling her phone out of her pocket, still no messages.  She longed to see his name pop up on her phone.  She wrote another.  “I hope you had a wonderful day.”  A cold wind stirred the colorful leaves.  Her hands pulled her sweater tighter.

          With the last light switched off in the apartment, she lay in bed reading until she eyes drooped.  Leaning over she switched the alarm on and the lamp off.  She checked the messages one last time.  Empty.  Falling asleep, her head rested on a damp pillow.

 

Naysayers

          Naysayer, a person who habitually expresses negative or pessimistic views.  How many times does a naysayer come along and thwart our dreams if only for a moment?  I remember when I was a little girl playing the board game Risk.  I must have been in about fifth grade.  A couple of the countries names I struggled with pronouncing correctly.  Looking at the board today, I haven’t a clue which name I struggled with, probably Paraguay.  The naysayer made the comment that I would never be able to do any career in foreign affairs.  Even at that young age the comment fired me up and I had the fleeting thought of proving this person wrong.  Now, I never had the desire to go into that line of work, but I loved history at an early age and ended up with a history degree.  Yes, I still struggle with pronouncing names when first introduced to them, but once I get the hang of them, I love how the sounds roll through my mouth.

          As a young adult, a family friend gave me grief about going to college to get my MRS degree.  I had heard the comment before, but this person I respected and the comment hurt.  In reality, I did get the MRS degree before my BSED.  The fact haunted me and drove me to overcome some pretty big obstacles until I did get that second slip of paper.  The funny part is I have continuously used my MRS degree for the past 24 years.  I really only used the BSED for three years.  I so love irony in real life.

          From the time spelling entered my life, I knew it would be a handicap for education.  I studied and studied and failed and failed.  In third grade, I was introduced to Little House on the Prairie.  I wanted to be just like Laura when I grew up.  I wanted to write.  I can’t even begin to remember all the people that said my spelling was so horrible that I couldn’t go into an English field.  In fact, one teacher wouldn’t sign off for me to take College Prep English.  But how can you deny your heart’s desire?  I loved to write.  I loved playing with words either in my daydreams or on the page creating scenes and characters.  Did I listen to these people?  Heavens no!  I talked with my guidance counselor.  She gave me permission to take the class.  I also invested in a pocket dictionary.  My second degree on my certificate is English.  I also worked in the writing lab of the college I attended.  I taught English and journalism for three years.

          The latest naysayers in my life now make comments about me publishing.  I have written four books and ten short stories.  I technically started the process in 1993.  My first rejection threw me into a major case of writer’s block.  I actually listened to a naysayer.  Luckily a couple of supporters kept nudging me to write.  In the last six years, I have written 592,857 words.  I have been rejected three more times.  In that period, I have read a lot of books and blog sites about writing.  In the past two years, my fiction writing has improved a good 50% or more.  I am so excited.  I have struggled through the pathways of traditional brick and mortar publishing verses e-publishing independently.  I have chosen e-publishing for the time being, but this entails more work.  I am learning more then I could ever imagine in all areas related to publishing:  formatting, sales, promotion, uploading, and book covers.  This all takes a great amount of time, a little bit of money, and a ton of patience.  I am getting closer though, I can feel it.

          Thus, the latest comment about me still not being close to publishing really annoyed me.  I have two short stories that are done in the area of writing.  My third story is being read by 2^nd readers.  My fourth needs one more run through and it will go to my 1^st readers.  My fifth story needs a complete edit as does my first book with my readers giving more perspective.  These six pieces of writing will then need to be formatted.  I will need to work out publishing pages, blurbs, pricing, book covers, and promotions.  These last tasks I am learning how to do while I am still writing and editing.  This is a huge amount of work.  My goal is to have them out by this next spring after taking four various classes that should help in the process.

          So, what do we do about these negative comments that are thrown our way whether in all seriousness or in jest?  Definitely, don’t take them to heart.  I try to use them as fuel.  I blow at them coaxing them along.  Soon, the comments turn into an inferno that will create success.  Best of all though, listen to all of the coaches out there.  I am very blessed to have quite a few supporters.  I rely on them when I struggle with the naysayers.  Oh, and at times, I can be the worst of all naysayers.

          “I have the strength for everything through Him who empowers me.”  Philippians 4:13.

Two Amazing Artist Dates

                This past weekend, I traveled 308 miles for an artist’s date.  What is an artist date you ask?  It is time with yourself once a week with no companions for your inner-artist.  I am usually very bad at the whole artist date thing.  I get so wrapped up in my chores and writing goals that many times I skip them.  I must also confess that many times I do them with family members.  This weekend I technically only went on one date though I do counted two dates.

                Saturday morning I woke at 5:30 to drive out to Ross Creek Cedars.  I wanted to spend some time alone to take pictures for my photography class and for me.  I was also hoping to capture some settings for a couple of scenes in the next book I plan to write in November.  I was not disappointed with the setting.  My pictures lacked because of my deadline to be back in town to have breakfast with family, so the light was very poor.

Here is a picture that validated a scene from my very first book.  Two of my characters struggle in a scene getting through a forest of fallen trees.  These two trees were taller than me.  I would definitely have a hard time getting over them.  Luckily, the path went around them.

 

I love these two trees.  They will be a fairy castle.

 

This hollowed out tree will make a perfect hiding spot.

I won’t reveal how, but there is a battle scene with this fallen tree.

 

Here will be the home of my latest character.

 

The second part of my day I do count as an artist’s date even though my daughter tagged along.  I visited a mock Viking encampment.  I loved the tents and the cooking tripod.

 

                Amazing artist dates don’t happen very often.  Many times I just do some gardening, go for a hike, or splurge for a latte.  I am planning another date for next month that is hopefully as amazing as this date, but I am going to keep that a secret until it takes place.  Stay tunedJ