On to Greener Grass

Too many issues with Blogger lately. I tried to upgrade to a domain name and had repeated trouble with even that.

So, I've moved over to www.carriedalby.com

I'm in the process of transporting my blog posts over there, so please follow my further wanderings at the new site.

Alphabet Blog

I've taken this from writer buddy Stephanie, who took it from another friend, etc but I changed a few alphabet words to mix it up a bit.

A. Age: I’m a bicentennial baby. You do the math.

B. Birth Order: 3^rd out of 4. Third is the nerd.

C. Chore that you hate: Cleaning tubs/showers. And bathing kids is my least favorite “mommy chore.” So glad they are getting older…

D. Dogs: They’re nice, but I don’t want to personally own one at this point in my life.

E. Essential start to your day: Alarm clock or kidlets.

F. Favorite color: Purple, with turquoise a close second.

G. Gold or Silver: Silver—or white gold.

H. Height: 5’12” baby!

I. Inspirations: Crisp, autumn-like weather with a nice breeze and music.

J. Job title: Which one? Wife, Mother, Writer,  Daughter, Sister, Aunt…

K. Kids: Three kidlets.

L. Live: Mobile, Alabama… or is that live—I love live music! Concerts are the best!

M. Marriage Status: Married, with children.

N. Nicknames: Care Bear is the most common, from multiple sources.

O. Overnight hospital stays: Five times, three from childbirth.

P. Pet peeves: Dishonesty: lie, cheat, or hold back the truth and I will not trust you.

Q. Quote from a movie: “As you wish.” I swoon for Westley.

R. Right or left handed: Right, though I always wished I was a lefty.

S. Secrets: I’ll never tell.

T. Time you wake up: Whenever I’m needed.

U. UFOs: Possibly, but not necessarily with little green men…

V. Vegetable you hate: Canned red beets. GAG.

W. What makes you run late: Kidlets—1, 2, 3, or all.

X. X-Rays you’ve had: Neck, back, and that lousy right ankle—I’ve sprained it three times.

Y. Yummy food that you make: Cookies! Nothing fancy, just the basics: chocolate chip, snickerdoodles, peanut butter, etc.

Z. Zoos or Aquariums: I love a good aquarium. It feels like I’m in a time warp, in another world,  and then the sun is SOOO bright when I step back outside—WHAM! Welcome back to Earth.

The Art of Procrastination

I’m the most productive procrastinator I know.

You can tell how much I’m avoiding something by how organized my home is. In the past few days I’ve cleaned the kids’ playroom, organized their closets, straightened my desk, and helped my parents with their organizing.

This past Friday, I received my full professional critique back from Laurie Halse Anderson. (Yes, you have the right to be jealous!) She did a thorough job. After reading her write-up I knew she hit my strengths and weakness spot on. But I’ve been avoiding reading through the manuscript—not quite sure what to do with myself when what I’ve been waiting months for is back in my court. I’ll be forced to act, to move CORRODED up to the next level toward publication.

And it’s paralyzing.                            

So, rather than taking that last step, I did everything else I could possibly do without feeling guilty. Things that need to be done. I couldn’t just sit in front of the TV and zone-out. I’m not wired that way. Those that have spent an extended period of time around me know I’m a pacer. I can’t sit still when the situation is out of the norm—my nervous energy must be put to work. And sitting down and reading through 176 pages of blue (not red) notes on my story is beyond my sphere of comfort.

But I finally did it Saturday night. It wasn’t as painful as I expected. Now, I’m laying out my plan of action for the rewrite—think this will be edit #7…

Middle School Blues

The years I spent in middle school were terrific and terrible. I was trying to find my style and express myself—the slightly pudgy, tall geek posing as a rebel. (Yes, it carried over into high school, too. And adulthood, minus the rebel part.) And no, I didn’t fool my friends or family.

I took gifted/advanced classes in a four-track-year-round school in a culturally diverse neighborhood in Southern San Diego County. I was the tallest girl in the school and blonde amid a sea of dark hair. (Translation: You could spot me across the campus with ease.) I went to all periods with the same group of people for two years. The exception was the elective classes—those in band went to the band room and the others (me included) cycled between art, cooking, computers, health, drafting, and wood shop each quarter. It was a solid, well-rounded experience.

My group was the popular clique amid the nerds and all the cultures at the school were represented. Only the truly weird kids were the odd ones out. The other three tracks in the school—one would be on break for a few weeks at any given time—had separate lunch schedules and we didn’t mix socially. Thus, I was in the privileged top of the (geek) social class.

Switching middle schools in my final month of eighth grade did a number on my self-esteem. That last month of school (actually moving on my fourteenth birthday) my family moved to a predominantly white/upper-class area in North County San Diego and it shook my sense of self-worth to the core. Less than a thirty minute commute, but it was a radical culture shock.

I had to ride the bus, which I hadn’t done since elementary school, and the trips were worse than the actual school day. (I tend to think this is when my fear of crowds kicked in.) It was packed full of jeering kids who made fun of those of us who got on/off the bus in my neighborhood—it was one of the older, original parts in the suburb. Most of the other kids on the bus route lived in new tract housing with a minimum of three car garages, five bedrooms and 3.5 baths. People would actually try to trip me when I walked down the aisle and projectiles were thrown in my direction.

The school days were disastrous. Wood shop, which I loved at my old school, was torture. Even the teacher looked at me funny and said “it’s not like it was in your old school” when I walked in the first day. He offered to let me change my schedule to drop the course, but I naively stuck it out. There were only two other girls and they were in there because it was “where the boys are.” I was branded a hoe for taking shop class because in that school it was for guys and skanks.

I’ve blocked from my memory which class it was that I had notes stuck on my back taunting “wide load” and such on several occasions. It was always from the under-sized boys who must have been intimidated to have a girl sitting in front of them that could physically beat them up—as if I’d ever. One student did defend me, but the damage was done.

In another class, I was trapped on the back row between the 90210 looking kids. They’d discuss their parties and drinking/drugs from the weekend before, where the next one would be held because so-and-so’s parents were on a cruise, who spent the morning puking in the bathroom, who was in rehab, or who might be getting an abortion.

There I was, on the “better side” of San Diego, and I was being exposed to bullying for the first time. Plus the exploits of the privileged class piled around me—those outwardly perfect kids spiraling down the dark hole of addiction before reaching high school. It was frightening and sad, even then. I didn’t envy them. They made me sick just listening to the stories they joked about. (I think that’s where my distrust for seemingly perfect people stems from. Even in books, I never trust the pretty boys. No Team Edward here.)

Then, there’s the fact that on the first day I dressed out for P.E. I was picked last when choosing baseball teams. (The first, but not the final, time I was left for a coach to assign me to a team.) I busted myself to prove I wasn’t all that bad. I barely made it to first base and later sprained my ankle running home. I had to hobble around for a couple weeks on crutches.

I sat the whole boring 8^th grade graduation (the only time I walked for a grad ceremony) surrounded by strangers. The next day, I attended my old school’s graduation and watched my close friends get their diplomas as a bystander, sitting with their parents and siblings rather than with them on the stand.

It sucked to be me.

Over the summer, and then when high school began, I did settle into a small friendship circle of other outsiders and new comers. I was no longer bullied—but mostly ignored, which was fine by me.

Three months into my freshman year—just six months after the last move—I was once again relocated. This time the destination was eight hours north, to a strange place near Santa Cruz.

But that’s another story.

In Which I revert to Rambling

I put a call out for blog ideas on my Facebook page (www.facebook.com/AuthorCarrieCox) the other day. The two options listed are difficult, to say the least. One humorous, one serious. I might tackle them at a future date, but I need something fluffy to get me through this week.

Music, as always, pulls me into the writing zone. I was productive last week, which was good since I needed to produce several pages to submit for my critique group to read. I went on a musical binge and piled 196 songs into a “Fortitude Groove” playlist in my iTunes account. Those were just songs that jumped out at me while scrolling through my music library. I’ve narrowed it down to 150 songs so far. I’m listening to each one while working on Fortitude related tasks: note taking, editing, writing, and playing Free Cell to zone out before/after writing. It will be awhile before I create an actual “soundtrack” (see http://wonderwegian.blogspot.com/2011/08/corroded-soundtrack.html) because I’m never quite sure if the story will keep to my outline. I’m already rethinking the ending and I’ve only written two chapters. But, for now, the music is doing its job.

Down to 149…

This time, the selections are heavy on the Irish/Celtic, country, blue grass, and my hard rock favorites.

… 147…

I don’t think I could write something without being inspired by at least three songs from the likes of Europe/Joey Tempest/John Norum, Mitch Malloy, Nelson, Tyketto, or Firehouse. Just to name a few. Those are the songs that filled my boom box when I began writing in earnest at 14. And several of those guys have fabulous new albums.

… 145…

Some terrific songs are being deleted because of modern references, like phone calls or cars. Just like Bid Time Return (aka “Somewhere in Time”) I don’t want anything that might jar me out of the moment. Timeless is perfection. That’s why I LOVE the classic Disney cartoons—the ones when Walt was alive—there aren’t any “modern” jokes thrown in. They are truly timeless masterpieces: Sleeping Beauty, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan. I enjoy Robin Williams as the genie in Aladdin, but most of the humor is current references. Pulls me out of the story.

… 143…

Fluffy just turned into rambling so it's time to stop. I shall search the perfect photo to accompany this post and I’ll see you in the comments.

Any other bright ideas out there for future posts? Remarks on this one?

Attack of the Writer Blob Blog

I’ve noticed that my production level tapers off the last half of the week and I need to do something about it.

Maybe it’s the fact that I typically bake on Wednesdays, so I have a cookie hangover Thursdays.

Or the several late nights of research and writing builds up and my system crashes for a day (or two) to reset itself.

Add that to the fact that I haven’t officially exercised in about two months and you get attack of the writer blob blog.

My original Cookie Monster Blob:

Until the next time, you can see what books I’m reading, what cookies I'm eating, and what I’m working on at www.facebook.com/AuthorCarrieCox

Christmas Apologies

I hear the song “Christmas Time is Here” several times a week—almost daily—during the month of December. My special needs son is a Peanuts head. He has perfect pitch and a great talent for mimicking voices. Next time you want to hear Charlie Brown music, just ask. He serenaded my friend thing morning…
No, the singing isn’t what I want to apologize for. (Unless, uh… it really hurts your ears.)
I would like to confess a prior judgmental attitude. I’ve freed myself of it and wish to publicly say I’m sorry. I came to the realization of the errors of my thinking a couple years ago, but still held on to that “it won’t be me” attitude.
I’M SORRY TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE OVER THE COURSE OF MY LIFETIME THAT I THOUGHT REALLY DIDN’T CARE BECAUSE THEY ONLY GAVE ME A CHRISTMAS CARD WITH THEIR NAMED SIGNED IN IT!
There.
It’s out.
I judged.
And now I am guilty of the same offense—even worse!
This year I handed out/mailed a pre-printed Kodak Christmas card (with my kidlets picture on it, of course) to 98% of the people on my list. I didn’t even have to sign my name on it—I only addressed the envelopes! And I didn’t do a year-in-review family letter to go with it.
Yes, it’s been sneaking up on me. Here’s my sad tale:
Once upon a time, I mulled over a personalized paragraph for each recipient of a Christmas card.
After one child, the cards just had a couple lines—and a wallet-sized photo of the darling kidlet.
Two kids = bigger photo and maybe a sentence in greeting/closing.
Three kids = a half-way decent picture of the three of them or all separate on a collage picture card if they weren’t cooperative… and about half the people on the list got an actual paper card as well. Here’s a sample from 2009, doctored to protect the innocent:

This year is the year of the photo card, with few exceptions.
Maybe it’s the wordsmith in me, but I used to think that if someone didn’t care enough to at least write me a little note, why bother to give me the card. I showed them love and appreciation by writing them a few words of reflection or hope—wasn’t I worth that effort on their part?
So, yeah…
Life happens.
My daily list of tasks to accomplish swells.
As I mature, my ability to love grows and my circle of family and friends expands with that love.
AND I DO CARE, EVEN IF I DIDN’T SIGN MY NAME!
In closing I want your thoughts. Is it better to keep a circle small in order to pad a Christmas card with words or share a short greeting (or three smiling faces) with a wider group of people?

Accounted For

Yes—I’m still here.

Seems like lots of people took a blog break but hopefully their reasons were productive ones, like National Novel Writing Month. Mine, not so glamorous. My computer froze/died. Rest in peace laptop motherboard… rest in peace.

While waiting almost 30 days (thanks to delayed shipping and then issues in customs) for my built-to-order computer to arrive, I had the not so lovely experience of using my son’s computer. Now, I’ve never had a brand new, factory sealed computer before (this new one is my very first!) but there is something entirely unbecoming about sharing a computer with my 13 year old.

For one thing, I felt guilty asking my son to stop working so I could check my e-mail (or Facebook or Twitter or fill-in-the-blank) so I didn’t disturb him while he was drawing on the paint program—which was often.

And that hand-me-down-hand-me-down-possibly-hand-me-down computer has no sound, which I take full responsibility for. When trying to speed up the computer by trashing “unused” programs a few months ago, I deleted the sound drive/card/whatever. Oops! The fact that my favorite singer, Mitch Malloy, was on tour in Europe last month and posting videos nearly every day was irritating since I couldn’t listen to them. Grrrr.
The desktop computer my kids’ use sits about a foot away from the parakeet cage. Nick, Charlotte and I bonded more than I thought possible. Now, whenever I walk into the room, they fuss at me. I suppose they miss our quality time.

I couldn’t upload pictures from my camera or look out my window from the seat.

Syncing iTunes was impossible.

And did I mention I couldn’t listen to the new videos Mitch Malloy posted?
Yeah, here’s one for your viewing/listening pleasure:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZO2XmBHRb8&feature=share

I’m back—and faster than ever! And thanks to the help from my IT friend, I didn’t lose any documents or information in the transferring of files from the old hard drive to the new.

It's been another whirlwind month. Mobile Writers Guild events and planning meetings, field trips and social outings for the kidlets, plus my own milestones.

Last week I sent the complete Corroded manuscript to Laurie Halse Anderson. It arrived at her address Saturday the 15th. So the waiting game is on to hear her critique.

In an attempt to keep from thinking about my story being in the hands of one of my writing heroes, I treated myself to a free concert at the National Shrimp Festival in Gulf Shores Saturday evening.
And, of course, I had another experience!
I was able to meet the members of Firehouse before and after the show. The other guys signed the “vintage” flier that C.J. Snare signed at the show on October 12, 1991 (the last time I saw them—20 years ago!) as well as a CD booklet I brought along and the new CD I bought at the show. C.J. still has his voice, Bill wailed on the guitar, Michael hammered the drums, and Allen played a mean bass. They rocked harder than ever!

Love music, love great people! Hang with me if you want to catch Fantabutitus!

September Madness

"The Month of Madness" is what September 2011 shall be known as in my life.
The month when this homebody was away as often as home during regular hours.
The month that forced this shy lady into several public speaking events.
The month my kids cried because I left them so often.
The month the grandparents were taken advantage of for free childcare. (Thanks, Nana and Grandpa!)

And right in the middle of the month the little princess celebrated her third birthday with a yard full of friends for an “Easter” party. Egg hunt, duckies, butterflies... and frilly dresses, too! I'd post pictures here, but, yeah, you know. I don't do that at this point.

Reading has been a lifesaver, once again. You can tell how crazy my life is by how much reading I'm doing. The only way to escape and unwind. I have to read myself to sleep, otherwise I'd just think myself into a frenzy every night. Anxiety sucks but it is good for increasing my reading progress.

A Need so Beautiful was a loaner book from a good friend. It took me a while to get into the character/voice, which isn't unusual for me—it just took over half the book instead of a few chapters this time. Loved the ending.

I reread Summer of the Swans, a classic Newbery winner. Loved it, once again. Most of my favorite novels are “middle readers”, usually the 10-14 age range.

And because I wanted to read more Joan Bauer books (see last post) I checked out Squashed and Close to Famous (her newest—still reading this one) from the local library.

I've also been reading Homeschool Your Child for Free (great purchase) and The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin (thank you Mobile Public Library) during the daytime, when I'm not running the roads. Which has been next to nothing this past week.

September 24 is the start of Banned Books Week. Search my blog for previous posts on this topic.

If you're on Facebook, you can find a public fan page for me and my writing. http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#!/pages/Carrie-Cox/182006808539156 But if you know me personally, I'll accept you as a friend on my “private” page. And feel free to link to my blog whenever. I appreciate all 20 of the listed followers here!

A Month, Revisited

The past few weeks have been filled with home, family, friends, and literary adventures. Just like Mary Weber, the main character of Corroded, I've been expanding my comfort zone by participating in new experiences. And with each new merit badge of life I earn, the anxiety over the unknown lessens.

Examples—aren't you curious to see what I consider adventurous? Probably second hand to most people, but for this anxiety-prone wallflower these things are a big deal:

My first belly flop!
A diving board was NOT part of it, but it counts, right?
And the fact that I was standing in an above-ground pool... but it was a big one...
Hey, this is from the girl that could never do a Slip-N-Slide because I couldn't make myself fall down!

Taking all three kids downtown for a field trip.
Yes, I did meet a friend and her three kids at the museum, but I had to park and walk the block to the entrance alone with my kids. We even crossed streets twice—one of them Government Blvd—to look at cannons and read their historical markers.

Creating a public “fan” page on Facebook for me/my writing.
Might be premature, but some of you out there care enough to “like” me. :)

Conducting my first public meeting for the Mobile Writers Guild.
Me. Public. Speaking.
Those that know me from church have witnessed my teaching and speaking engagements before. Get me in front of a group of kids and I'm fine. Add more than half a dozen adults to the mix and I turn blotchy red. I pace, wring my hands, and my nose sweats. But this went better than I expected. Yes, I fumbled over words, my eye-contact could have been better, and my nose still sweated. But I wasn't red (or purple or splotchy) and no one ran from the room screaming. Not even me.

Sharing Corroded with family members.
Yes, I'm finished! Just waiting for two more critique group sessions for the group to finish it before sending it off to Laurie Halse Anderson for a critique.
I first offered the manuscript to my sister-in-law, then my eldest sister, and finally my mother. They are all avid readers. I've heard back form my s-i-l that the first two chapters already had her sucked in. And, of course my mother thought it was “really good” (she read it all yesterday afternoon) but she immediately wanted to know how much of it was true. Yes, it was inspired heavily by my own junior year in high school, but it is not an autobiography.

And, of course, I've been reading. This is my list from the past month:

A Joan Bauer kick. I read Hope was Here about a year ago and loved it. Found these books on the bargain tables at Books-A-Million over the past several months and decided to read them all back-to-back. Her books are thoughtful, beautifully simple coming of age novels. Everything I hope my own stories can be.

Then I moved on to a new writer friend's debut novel. I met Israel through a neighbor of his who I'm friends with when she sent him in the direction of the Mobile Writers Guild. The Anne Marie is a great story for readers, especially dog-lovers, ages ten and up.

Yesterday I finished another MWG member's book. It's out of my normal reading genre—adult romantic comedy—but the characters were multidimensional and the information about trichotillomania was interesting. Joyce and I have been in critique groups together the past two years, so I've read her WIPs as well as one of her other published novels. Write on, Comma Queen!

Corroded Soundtrack

The thing for authors—especially young adult ones—to do these days is to create PLAYLISTS for their novels. I've written song lists for SOUNDTRACKS (because I see my stories as movies in my head) for all my writing, beginning twenty years ago.

Yes, with the first novel-length story I began at the age of fourteen, I had an inspiring soundtrack of hair bands. Ever visit me in my teens? My walls were filled with photos from Metal Edge magazine and posters bought at the local Sam Goody's or Spencer Gifts.
I was the renegade rocker—the walking oxymoron. I had a “Youth Gone Wild” Skid Row t-shirt but never skipped school or done anything worthy of arrest. I spent my money on cassettes/CDs, magazines, posters, concert tickets, t-shirts... my teen idols were long haired crooners, beat thumping bass players, and those glorious keyboarders.

But I'd always had a wide range of musical taste. I bought J.S. Bach albums while wearing my denim-and-leather jacket (I was told by the sales associate “you don't look like the powdered wig type.)
It isn't Christmas until The Beach Boys album is on the stereo.
And I still love a little “Motownphilly”, “The One and Only”, “Forever Your Girl”, and “Electric Youth.” Can you name the artists who sing those songs?

To bring my old school soundtrack to the new century, I'm including YouTube links to the BEST videos I found for my odd assortment of songs that express the themes and emotions of Corroded, in chronological order. Yes, there is a heavy dose of Rick Nelson. I adore him—the original teen idol.

Take a few minutes and watch—but more importantly LISTEN—to the songs you aren't familiar with. Enjoy!

Hello Mary Lou (Main character's name, with a groovy 70s vibe.)

Young Emotions (Ricky was so smooth and dreamy...)

Weird (Now this is a WEIRD video! First time seeing it.)

The Very Thought of You (He's so much better than Elvis.)

String Along (Never enough Rick!)

Burning Down Inside (Peppy live version with a bonus song on the end, because Tyketto rocks.)

You Are a Tourist (Song I heard on the local independent radio station last month. It struck me.)

Anybody Listening? (A profound sound with amazing vocals--Geoff Tate of Queensryche is the bomb.)

Tears of the Dragon (I could listen to this song over and over again—and have.)

Dying to Be Alive (Yes, two Hanson songs. They both fit.)

Somewhere I Belong (About as heavy as I get...)

Start from the Dark (By my FAVORITE band. Long live Europe!)

Spirit of the Underdog (They rock and had two songs to fit the mood, back-to-back.)


Right Before Your Eyes (Rick Nelson's sons.)

Life (Amazing what you can find on YouTube!)

And as a tribute, because I just found this and the hair is awesomely 80s.

Are you ready to read Corroded now? Let me know your comments—either here or on Twitter or FaceBook. Thanks for stopping by!

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.

Reading by the Numbers

This morning I went out with the kidlets and friends on an alligator hunt and spied three gators.

It's always fun to see animals in their natural habitat—especially from a safe vantage point.

This was our first week of summer break. Although I'm not officially starting back to homeschooling until mid-July, I've started the middle child on learning to read and the eldest with typing skills. It's been a little slack these first few days, but I think we all needed some off time to refuel.

On a literary note, I've done next to nothing in the past three weeks on my WIP. My goal for this weekend is to get back on track. I need to finish the last tidbit of the first draft so I can better home into the poignant scenes in the beginning.

My reading the past few weeks:

Very insightful!

Fluffy fun--already passed on to a friend.

Still digesting this one. Full of GREAT information and advice. (Thanks for the loan, Joyce!)


Lately, I've been analyzing my reading habits and book collection. Though I'm not huge on numbers, I do love a good pie graph. Thanks to mathwarehouse.com for the pie making abilities.

These are my firm TOP TEN contemporary writers—authors who I've read five or more books by that have had new books out within the past decade. Otherwise I'd add in Beatrix Potter, C.S. Lewis, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louisa May Alcott, Jane Austen, Beverly Cleary... you get the picture!

Middle Readers: Richard Peck (he might have some “teen”, but nearly all are middle readers that I know of), Gail Carson Levine (?), Susan Cooper (?), Katherine Paterson (but not exclusively—she's written early readers and picture books, too...)

Young Adult: Laurie Halse Anderson (no, she does picture books and middle readers also...), Shannon Hale (NOPE- sometimes she's found in middle readers—hello, Newbery Honor—and she has two adult books which I adore), Sarah Dessen (might be the only single genre writer on my list)

Adult: Terry Brooks (though many teens read his fantasy books), Beverly Lewis (no, wait... she does picture books, middle readers, and teen, too!)

Cross-overs: Madeleine L'Engle is all over the literary map—in a good way—but then again... it looks like 90% of my favorites are!

What would your pie graph look like?


To gather my thoughts in a parting gesture, I'd like to use a quote the lovely Léna Roy used on her own blog today, which was spoken by her grandmother:

“You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” -Madeleine L'Engle