They Speak--I Listen

On my July 6th blog I coined the term “fantabutitus” and spoke of my always pleasant encounters with those I admire. Amid the telling I said:

I'm a dedicated fan, loyal to those who speak to me
even when the spotlight has moved on to newer faces.
(Speak to me? Yes, speak to me. I shall blog about that next time.)

And the next blog happened weeks later, recapping my month spent hiding among literature while the house was over-run with nephews and nieces. Of which I need to add:

and

And then I posted a blog tag question game. Fluffy fun.

If you haven't before, take a look at my profile and see the listing of my favorite authors/books, musicians, actors/movies, etc. Not the standard answers!

So, without further ado, I shall describe the Wonderlonian philosophy of what creates the fantabulous connection to the brilliant artists I esteem.

It's my belief that each individual was born as a spirit child of a Heavenly Father and Mother before being born on earth. As such, we had a pre-mortal life, which is how I believe memories of “past lives” occur. If we were angels, for lack of a better term, watching over those already on Earth, then we might recall glimpses of events that occurred before we were born. Maybe we were even assigned people to watch over—only time will tell.

But as spirits waiting around in heaven to be born to Earthly parents, wouldn't we have had friendships? We had to pass the time somehow. Maybe there were cloud bands and theater guilds and painting-by-star clubs or something. Suppose some of us were sent down to whisper muse-like into the ears of philosophers and writers. The possibilities are endless.

When I see a piece of art, hear a song, read something, or see a performance it either speaks to me or it doesn't. Some voices and melodies are so familiar, I know I've heard them before. Some paintings I feel like I've lived in the landscapes of, in some other-worldly time.

There isn't much in this world that I will say I “hate” or even “dislike”. My favorite response is “it's okay, but it doesn't speak to me.” I can't say “it's not my style” because my style (some will swear I have none) is all over the place musically, literary, artistically.

What better way to describe a connection to another soul than by feeling that you were friends before? The ultimate kindred spirits.

What's your philosophy?

Pass-A-Long Tag

I was tagged (FIRST) yesterday by the fantabulous Lėna Roy for a “bloggy game”. You have to answered these questions, after being tagged by someone else, and then pass the tag on to eight more bloggers.
This will be the first blog attempt at embedding a link under someone's name, so bear with me if it doesn't go as planned.


What do you think of when you the hear the word tag?
A gaggle of jeering kids laughing at me for being slow.

Do you think you're hot?
It's summer in the south, so yeah, I'm hot!

Upload a picture or wallpaper that you're using at the moment.

When was the last time you ate chicken?
Sometime this past week...

The song(s) you listened to recently.
I actually heard a new(?) song on the radio Saturday that made me think of Corroded's main character. Now I need to track it down and add it to my iTunes wish list. Death Cab for Cutie “You're a Tourist”. (At least I think that's what the DJ said.) It almost fits my WIP perfectly, except the character is not in her hometown--but she's lived there a couple years.


What were you thinking as you were doing this?
Seriously, she tagged me first?! And she remembers me as being one of the first responders to her blog many moons ago. Wow—can't wait to meet her in March.


Do you have nicknames? What are they?
The most widely used is Care/Care Bear. My self-labeled name is Wonderwegian, obviously.


Tag 8 blogger friends:
Stephanie Lawton
Joyce Sterling Scarborough
Dee
Abbi Glines
Jessica
Laura
Auntie M
Beautiful Wreck



Who's listed as No. 1?
Stephanie. Local writer buddy and hook-up for all things YA. Me thinks she needs a fluffy blog to soften her recent angst.

Say something about No. 5
My brilliantly funny cousin, who will probably curse me for tagging her. Want blogs with $5 words and deep questions while you laugh—go read her!

How did you get to know No. 3?
Mobile Writer's Guild and QuillMasters critique group. Dee is the real deal—she doesn't hold back and lays her life bare.

How about No. 4.
Abbi found me on Twitter—never heard how. She's a local (across Mobile Bay) YA writer and does oodles of blogging and Twitter and Facebook. We are suppose to meet soon... Write Club?

Leave a message for No. 6.
Laura, your blogs are LOL funny. I follow yours and read them, so please do the same for me. :) Do you even remember me? You were only about ten when I moved away, but your house was like a second home to me. I mean, did any of Staci's other friends stick it out through Super Saturdays (with all those chores) more than once?

Leave a lovey dovey message for No. 2.
Joyce, you are the heart and soul of zombie chicks. The world needs you to blog more often. You do creeps the best so finish that book, please!

Do No. 7 and No. 8 have any similarities?
Actually, they do! Though one lives the California dream, and the other is living life in the natural wonders of South Alabama, both do blogs that have "content warnings". They are each smart, sassy, and not afraid to speak their minds. When either are in a room, they are most likely entertaining others--through conversation or talents.
Auntie M hasn't blogged in months and Beautiful Wreck is on hiatus, so I'm not sure if either will get around to this.

Escape into Reading

This month has been filled with family and home. I've been surrounded by a few nieces and many more nephews, and all the things that accompany them. Laundry, food, messes, and noise. And of course fun, laughter, love, and adventure. But I've had to cope with lack of quiet and thinking time. So I went into literary hibernation.

I escaped what was going on around me by snuggling into books. Forget the army battle sounds coming from down the hall and the trail of toys stretched from the sofa to the bedroom--I'd rather be in Kosovo or playing middle school soccer.

So, as you can see from my list of books in the past two weeks, I've been hibernating a lot! A couple of these books were read in less than 24 hours.

A great closing to The Hunger Games series. A kindred spirit gave me the first book for my birthday and immediately loaned me the other two books so I could read the series straight through. Loved how it ended, though about ten pages before I was about to scream at Katniss for one of her decissions.

Katherine Paterson has been one of my favorite writers since I read Bridge to Terabithia circa 1989. This book came out about two years ago but I finally purchased the hardcover (thank you Books-A-Million bargain tables, for this and two other books on the list) last month. I had no clue about the wars in the Kosovo area during the past two decades, other than people were dying. This book made me want to learn more about recent history I've been blind to.

Nice summer romance with a HEAVY dose of southern spice. This is the most southern sounding book I've read in recent years, if not ever.

I was able to meet the gracious author, Crickett Rumley, at a local book signing last week. Fun read--laughed out loud many times.

Wow! This is the best contemporary middle reader book I've read in a LONG time. Amazingly deep. Will be looking for more by Edward Bloor!

Does this make half of my books this time southern? Even Tangerine
was set in Florida, with scenes in TX and AL. This was one of my 24 or less books. Adventure with heart. Enjoyed it enough to want to purchase my own copy to have for my kids to read.


So, what have you been feeding your mind this month?

FANTABUTITUS

I suffer from fantabutitus (fan-tab-you-tie-tus). That's Wonderlonian (One-der-lone-e-an) for being a fan of fabulous people!
As of today, I have not had a bad encounter with someone I'm a fan of who I've been able to meet in person or have contact with online. My eldest sister pointed out, over a decade ago, that I was blessed with great experiences. Apparently she's heard horror stories about egos and rudeness.

Me? I always expected awesomeness from those I like, so I didn't think it was anything out of the ordinary. I'm a dedicated fan, loyal to those who speak to me even when the spotlight has moved on to newer faces. (Speak to me? Yes, speak to me. I shall blog about that next time.)

True, none of the celebrities I've met were athletes or “Hollywood” actors—mine are all music and literary related. I'm not big on starlets and such, though I wouldn't mind running into Ethan Hawke or Brendan Fraser...
But the rock and country musicians/singers and authors—they've all been friendly, approachable and even humble at times. Some have even gone out of their way to give back. I'll keep to three varied examples.

Exhibit A: C.J. Snare
Lead singer of Firehouse (Don't Treat Me Bad, Love of a Lifetime, etc) opening act for Warrant/Trixter/Firehouse concert hosted by Pauly Shore (remember him?!) at the Great America theme park in Santa Clara, CA.
My friends and I made a day of it and enjoyed the rides before the concert. A few hours before the show I noticed C.J. out in the park with his date. I apologized for bothering him, but asked if he'd mind signing a concert flier (had the flier and my own Sharpie—always prepared!) He graciously autographed it and told me he hoped I'd enjoy the show.
Then, he was surrounded by dozens more people wanting the same thing, but not being as polite about it, before he could get behind the safety of the backstage fence. (Yes, I stood back and watched the mini-mob. People can be real jerks at times, like the guy yelling “Hey, dude! Sign my girlfriend's chest, will ya?” Classy.)
A few months ago, I saw a comment by C.J. on a mutual friend's status on Facebook and shared the story of my encounter with him almost twenty years before. He replied back thanking me for the good memory. Awe...

Exhibit B: Terry Brooks
NYT bestselling author for two decades (now more than three) was on a book tour to promote The First King of Shannara in La Jolla, CA.
The friend who got me reading Terry Brooks—a HUGE fan, all first edition hardcovers—lived less than two hours away but couldn't make it to the event. My friend's birthday was the following week and I told Mr. Brooks about him. I even gave him a slip of paper with my friend's name and address on it, asked if he could send a birthday note. (Can't say I didn't try, though the people in line behind me rolled their eyes and huffed.)
Of course, when my friend received a birthday postcard from someone signing himself as Terry Brooks he thought it was a joke. Nope, just the best birthday greeting ever!

Exhibit C: Matthew and Gunnar Nelson
Yes, those blond twins—sons of the late, great Rick Nelson. After a sound check before a show in Biloxi, MS about a dozen years ago, they stopped to talk to my husband and I and signed the old school Nelson poster I'd brought along (which Bobby Rock had already signed a couple years previous—another pleasant meet and greet.) Gunnar sat at our table and talked with us for a while before heading out. Even my husband was impressed with that—but maybe it was because of Gunnar's skydiving and bungee jumping stories.

I could keep going—have a cache of autographs and stories but I'll spare you the geeky details.
And never get me started on Mitch Malloy or Laurie Halse Anderson unless you want to hear me gush over their talents and genuine greatness. Sigh...

Now, I want to hear your fantabutitus (and not-so-nice) stories!

What was I thinking?!

Yes, I used two, count them, TWO, punctuation marks because my situation is a question and an exclamatory. Read onto find out why.

If you're a reader of this blog, know me personally, or even just hear about me from someone else, you probably know I'm a writer. People have paid me for my words, though not as often as I'd like, and my words have been read by possibly hundreds of thousands of people. (One of my articles appeared in a magazine with a circulation of over 500,000.)

And if you've been in contact with me in recent years, you've probably heard I'm working on a novel. My WIP. Corroded. My first long-term project in over a decade. It's been slow, more often than not unsteady, progress.

Sure, I've got a list of prime excuses for being too busy to write, but the fact is, I could write a lot more than I do. I'm a procrastinator when it comes to things that make me nervous. Nervous energy and me are first cousins. I pace, which can be good because when I sit down, there are kids crawling on me within seconds. Typing with a kid hanging on your shoulders is difficult. Hand writing impossible. It makes me want Nathaniel Hawthorne's desk in the third story writing tower he had built over his home in Concord. Besides being a floor above the noise of his household, he had a custom standing height desk. (Which is the perfect height for me—had a lovely daydream while standing at his desk and looking out on the forested hillside when I visited Wayside.) He stood while writing, so I'm thinking he was a pacer, too.

This past week I've been procrastinating my writing because I received an answer to my prayers—a literary dream come true. And that dream turned reality has caused anxiety.

A month ago there was a terrible tornado in Joplin, Mo. As with the response from the deadly tornadoes in northern Alabama not long before, several authors stepped up to personally donate money as well as hold fundraisers for relief efforts. One of my literary heroes, Laurie Halse Anderson, decided to give of herself to help the Joplin area.

Laurie Halse Anderson! If her name sounds familiar it's because she's one of the biggest young adult authors of the last decade (though she writers for younger readers, too.) Heard a bunch of smack talked about YA books in the press lately or about books being banned in school libraries? Read any blogs/articles where YA readers/authors of all ages defend teen books? More than half of those articles mention Laurie Halse Anderson's books or quote her directly, both the pro and con. Tweet much? Try #YASAVES.

Several of my blogs over the past few years mention LHA. I've done her Write Fifteen Minute a Day (WFMAD) online writing boosts, taken her Blog Free February (BFF) to the highest level of commitment—no social media all month, and have traveled to New Orleans to meet her while she's been on book tours—even made HER blog for that!

Back to the relief efforts... Laurie decided to auction/raffle a full manuscript critique in order to help raise money for the Joplin/Ozark area Red Cross. The requirements were for every $10 you donate, you get one entry into the raffle. I begged around to family and friends and a few people donated in my behalf to up the odds. And I prayed, as did others. And I won!

I need to get Corroded as polished as possible within the next few months in able to not waste LHA's time and get the most help out of the critique. But that dream come true is looming like a thunderstorm over an outdoor graduation ceremony!

When I'm not pacing—or caring for kids or doing church work or planning writers guild events or any other number of worthy causes—I'm hiding within the pages of other people's books.

Literally.

I was loaned this interesting adventure by one friend (who I let know not to loan me another book in a series until the WHOLE series is out. Must wait for the rest of the story...):

And then I FINALLY started reading The Hunger Games trilogy. I'm now on this borrowed copy from another friend:

I'm up into the wee hours of the morning reading. Too tired to wake up before the kids to exercise first thing. Without the physical conditioning my creativity and motivation is slumping. My brain is fried from the summer heat by the end of the day so all I want to do is lay in bed at night and read. Which leads to late nights with my book light and groggy mornings. Rinse and repeat.

Now, I'm breaking my silence and the cycle.

I will do some form of exercise daily, beginning today.

I will NOT open Catching Fire, or any other novel, until I have written at least 30 minutes.

I will set my alarm each morning and get out of bed in a timely fashion no matter how late I am up.

And I want you to hold me accountable. Send an e-mail, tweet, comment, or actually in person ask if I'm any closer to sending Corroded to Laurie Halse Anderson. Because that action now freaks me out.

Do I really want to know what a NYT best selling author thinks about my work?

Do I really want one of my literary heroes to tell me what is wrong with it? (And what's good, but the negative always shouts louder in my head.)

Won't rejection feel worse from someone I admire than a faceless agent or editor?

What was I thinking?!

That it would be an excellent opportunity to be read by someone whose work I admire.

That learning the strengths—and weaknesses—in the story will help me hone my writing/editing skills.

That a possible blurb from a NYT best selling author will be a great foot in the door to the publishing industry.
And the bragging rights aren't bad either.

There's a motivational poster slogan that reads:
You cannot fulfill your dreams unless you dare to risk it all.

So, please, dare me to write. Dare me to finish Corroded and send it to Laurie Halse Anderson for critique. And then dare me to accept the advice and write on.