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…

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!

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!

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.

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.

Spring n Things

I hope everyone has enjoyed the celebration of rebirth. Oh, to be able to experience pure forgiveness and mercy—such a blessing in trying times!


Life's been, well—life, so my blogging is lacking. Some things are too personal (or boring) to post about. But I have passed a few sharable milestones this past month—breaking over 45,000 words on Corroded and completing 165 days of official homeschooling. Only fifteen more days to go for this “school year”. Woohoo!

There's a bit of a writing shake-up happening for me, too. After I finish this draft of Corroded, I'll be dropping my current critique group to be in a new group just for writers of young adults. (I might need to stretch them to middle reader level for future projects—so be warned, W.C.)

But I'm straddling the two groups for the time being. I've been with the established group for a year and a half so I won't drop them when I'm within sight of the ending. All the members have added to my knowledge and growth and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. They've stuck with me through Corroded (and several small projects) over the time we've shared at Panera and the hours we've spent reading/writing/editing before the meetings. I'll miss the ladies, but hopefully we'll still get to visit at the Mobile Writers Guild events.

It does make more work for the weeks I'm doing double duty. I'll be reading the submissions from two groups as well as rewriting/editing the beginning of my own WIP before I'm at the end. It'll be worth it to have a new eyes reading who are focused on the YA market, though.

On that remark, I best close so I can get back to writing/editing.

Oh, and here's the visual for my good reads since the last blog:

Of Books, Movies and Music

Haven't done much writing lately, but my WIP, Corroded, is over 38000 words now—131 double spaced pages. It only took a couple years to get to where I am, but I'm here! To think I used to push out complete drafts of novels (200-300 pages) in less than a year—but that was B.C.
Before Children.
That's still slow to some people's standards, but I will say that I was a full time student at the time. Now I'm a mommy working over-time, every day.

The books I've been reading the past few weeks:

The Tower, The Zoo, and The Tortoise by Julia Stuart

Very funny, with a few vavoom moments. I received an ARC of it last year, and have loaned it out, but finally got to reading it myself. Enjoyed it. Makes me want to venture into more “adult books”, but oh, I'm missing my kid/YA lit.
Especially since my next read was another adult book. (I'm almost finished!)

All Over But the Shoutin' by Rick Bragg


Rick Bragg spoke at one of the local library branches the beginning of the month. I usually don't seek out writer events when I'm not familiar with their works, but everyone in my critique group raved about him. So glad I went! And, obviously, his wit and charm made me want to read one of his books.


Two books in as many weeks: you can tell I'm reading out of my comfort zone!
To compensate, I've been watching more movies than usual—thanks to my parents' Netflix account and a stash of movies I'm borrowing from my oldest sister.

Juno
Enjoyed it more than I expected to. Very witty dialog.

The Last Song
I've never seen more than a minute or so of Miss Cyrus in action before this movie. I was slightly impressed. The thing that bothered me the most was her speaking voice. Sounds like an older DJ's voice--bit on the smoker's side. Odd.

Alex and Emma

I enjoy plots with a story within a story, and when writers are involved it's an added bonus. My favorite example of this is the book/movie Holes--brilliant.


And while I was on the classic name kick, I tried out the newest BBC version of


Emma

I do love the Paltrow version—much more glorious to the eyes than the old BBC version—but this one stole my heart. Or was it Mr. Knightly? No, it was Emma! The actress looked so familiar, and her mannerisms reminded me of Drew Barrymore in Ever After (LOVE IT!) I waited until after seeing the whole mini-series to check what other movies she's been in, and by golly, she's been in several movies I adore.


Viewing Emma in all her glory led me to want to watch this modernized version.

Clueless

I forgot how funny this movie is. And "my bad" is used. I wonder if that is the earliest use of it in the media... The dialog is hilarious and the clothing snazzy.



And as if my brain wasn't fed—all though most might be considered junk food—enough, I've been listening to my iPod as much as possible, which isn't a whole lot. Mainly it's in the car since I can't plug my ears while watching the kids, though it does sound like a lovely idea. I'm borrowing one of those cassette tape adapters, with the tape that goes into the car stereo that has a wire hanging out of it to plug into the iPod.
Yes, my car as a cassette player! It's a 1996, a year older than our original car which we had to replace last summer. But it only has 60K miles on it and has leather seats and power windows, a big step up from the ol' Neon.

Back to the iPod... I love listening to it on shuffle. From the time I was a teenager, I used to want a jukebox so I could put all my CDs into it and let them play randomly. So, I'm loving the portable jukebox. The 8GB doesn't hold all my music, but a decent percentage of it. My musical taste is eclectic. I know what I like and it's spans to genres.

Example of what pops up if you are fortunate enough to ride in my vehicle: Chesney Hawkes, Midlake, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Tyketto, Tchaikovsky, Ottmar Liebert, Firehouse, Patsy Cline, Joey Tempest, Diamond Rio, Mitch Malloy, Martina McBride, Rainbow, Dee-Lite, Alice in Wonderland (animated soundtrack), Sibelius, and REO Speedwagon.

Can you beat that?
Do you even know who half those singers/groups/composers are?

How the New Year Goes

Here it is, the start of the second week of a new year, and I'm nursing a sprained ankle. Fortunately, it's not the worst I've twisted the delicate joint, but it's still a pain to deal with when there are stairs in the house and multiple children to keep up with. And I've used my down time these past twenty-four hours to do extra reading as well as scanning old photos to upload into my computer. So, it hasn't been all swelling and tears.

The past month has been busy with family and church and friends. Just in the past week I've settled back into the typical routine with the kids, including homeschooling the oldest. The middle child is back at preschool three days a week and the youngest is obsessed with Pinkalicious. We read it several times a day.

As for my own reading, I'm caught up with all the issues of Children's Writer newsletter and nearly up-to-date on my other subscriptions. I read the second book in The Luxe series, Rumors. (Yes, I was sucked into it after the first and now I need to find the third and fourth books to complete reading the story.) And I also read Edges a debut novel by Lena Roy. She does have one of those fancy slash lines over the “e” in her name, but I've yet to figure out how to apply that on the computer.

Edges is one of those novels that is little on the outside but big on the inside. The characters are deep and complicated. They deal with both family and personal issues, including grief, alcoholism, and recovery. The whole story unfolds like a camelia blossom. By the time the center is exposed, you are wishing to cup the bloom in the palm of your hands to protect it from blowing apart in the winter winds because even though the ending is positive, you know the road is a difficult one for Luke, Eva, and their families.


Update on my writing projects:

Finished and submitted my nonfiction article, which will run in the NARB section of the March issue of Souvenirs, Gifts & Novelty magazine. My article on Autism friendly products has already been accepted and received praise from NARB board members. I'll post a l ink to it when it is available.

As for the status of Corroded—it's a few pages longer than it was at the time of my last blog post. Enough said.

I did open a poll after my last entry asking if those readers out there wanted me to post my first professionally published piece and the votes were all in the affirmative.

The following is my personal essay as it appeared in the July/August 2005 issue of TALL magazine.

Teen Totem

Your shoe catches on the door as you’re leaving Geometry. Able to steady yourself, you save the shame of falling into the hallway and exchange it for a few giggles from the girls behind you.

On the way to your locker a freshman jumps out of your path, evidently terrified of the giant headed his way.

“How’s the weather up there?” an immature senior calls out. His only response is the laughing of his friends. As if you haven’t heard that one before!

All this and it’s not even lunchtime yet!

If things like this happen to you, welcome to life with the most ghastly genetic disease among girls: tallness! Height can attract unsolicited stares and comments, which have the power to create emotional storms. It’s like being doomed to carry an orange umbrella, rain or shine. You’re bound to feel hideously awkward at some times, if not all of the time, as you stand out above the crowd. You receive so much attention when you’d rather shrink into the student body. Instead, you’re the totem pole in the school village.

Facing school every morning was a stomach-churning experience for me ever since elementary school. Several times I was in combination classrooms and lining up for class pictures was a nightmare each year. As a first grader I was the freak standing in the top row with the second grade boys. As a fourth and fifth grader I was in a fourth through sixth grade class. No matter what type of hunch I contorted into my observant teacher lead me towards the front of the line. Dear Miss Sawyer… she thought I should be proud of my height. How could she know the troubles when she was only five feet three? Because she’d been the young girl looking up at her tall friends wishing she would grow a few more inches.

The classic “I can’t see around her” can be an issue through the years. During school it may cause you to slouch in your chair or walk with your shoulders hunched. You prefer poor posture to “Teacher, she’s too tall! I can’t see the board.” I know I did! Life was much easier when I was bent over my paper or sitting in the back row. But outside of school the extra height proved invaluable. It’s easier to spot your car in a busy parking lot, and at entertainment events you always have a good view. Attending concerts was one of the most comfortable experiences of my early years. I was thankful for my height and actually felt sorry for the shorter people behind me.

Have you ever been embarrassed by your shoe size? I was mortified because I wore a size ten shoe and my feet were still growing. Most of the time I’d wear men’s athletic footwear, trying to convince myself my feet were only an eight and a half. Attending church and rare social events presented the problem of finding shoes in my size that didn’t add more than half an inch to my height or look like something my grandmother would wear. Feet can cause more emotional rain to pour. If your shoes were any bigger they’d be used as boats to navigate the floodwaters. But next time you see a picture of a supermodel on the runway look down at her feet. More than likely she’s working double digits in those heels.

Physical Education was the lowest point during the school day. When you’re tall people assume you play a sport and play it well. My lack of athletic capabilities lowered my G.P.A. each semester. One time when our class was dividing into volleyball teams I heard a girl say “She’s tall, pick her for our team.” But it was followed by a quick “No, she can’t play.” That day I was the last person standing in the middle of the court. The teacher had to assign me to a team and the other members groaned in protest. I think there’s a stain where I melted into the wood floor: another rain puddle. Everyone can’t be gifted in sports, though. I managed to make honor roll each semester even with my C’s in P.E. Where are your strong points?

Some psychologists say the use of any nicknames is demeaning, such as calling a child “pumpkin” can leave the young mind questioning her mother’s reason in referring to her as a fruit. Other people report that nicknames, not name calling, show others they are loved. I personally like inventing nicknames for other people… but don’t usually appreciate the names chosen for me! Having names like “Jolly Blond Giant”, “Tall One” or “Carrie is so very… tall!” shouted at me between classes was humiliating. What burned even more was that the friends calling me such titles had dainty names like “Tinker Bell” for themselves. I later learned that sometimes the trait people tease us about is often the thing they admire the most.

In the decade since high school I’ve been able to dump most of the baggage from my traumatized youth. Standing six feet tall has gotten easier thanks to a change of heart and environment- physical differences don’t mean so much as people mature. The most difficult thing has been relearning appropriate posture. I still have to remind myself to stand up straight and sit correctly. Today, I’m not ashamed to say I have size eleven wide shoes, though it’s still difficult to find shoes I like and I do revert to men’s shoes sometimes. Thankfully the nickname that stuck through the years is “Care Bear”, not one of the gangly terms. And more importantly, I have the knowledge of what it’s like to grow-up different. All these experiences will help during my current challenge of raising a special needs child. We all carry an orange umbrella; some of ours are just a little higher than others. At least up here it’s easier to spot the silver linings!


P.S. I'm excited to see the photo option is working, once again. I'll go add the pictures I wanted to add to my last few posts.

Christmas Time is Here

The juggling routine is improving. I've managed to write several pages this week, on both fiction and non-fiction projects. Hooray for me!

The things I've been reading on the side are:

Teach Me by R.A. Nelson

For my fluffy book (I have to indulge myself every so often) I just started The Luxe by Anna Godbersen. YA historical but I had to try to book just based on the cover. I've had my eyes on it since it came out.

And then there is the December issue of the Ensign magazine, in which a small article of mine was published.Check it out at:
lds.org/churchmagazines/EN_2010_12_25___09212_000_037.pdf

This is my second paid for/published item. My first was a personal essay in the final issue of TALL magazine back in 2005. If there is an interest (be sure to vote on the side bar) I'll post that essay on here next time.

My plan is to attempt to finish the first draft of Corroded by the end of the year but I'm not going to let it bother me if that doesn't happen. I also need to finish a magazine article that is already accepted by the National Association of Retail Buyers (NARB) for publication in their March 2011 feature.

Which reminds me, I didn't want the month to pass without posting a MERRY CHRISTMAS to everyone. The kids and I have been enjoying the season including special crafts, driving at night to look for lights, and Christmas music (the favorite among the younger crowd is the Charlie Brown Christmas album). This is the only Christmas my children will be 12, 5, and 2 so I plan on enjoying it, no matter what else is going on in my world.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Hope everyone had a magical weekend. Here's a peek at one of our seasonal adventures.





On a side note, if you put both an orange and a vanilla flavored Tootsie Fruit Roll in your mouth at the same time it tastes like an orange creamsicle.


Autumn on the Gulf Coast came and went and came and... I hope it sticks around this time! The crisp weather of fall (if we're lucky enough to receive typical seasonal weather) is invigorating. I usually get inspirational writing boosts this time of year but it hasn't happened yet. So, I'm sitting at my desk with the table top fan blowing on my face, praying for the courage to step forward with my WIP. I haven't made major progress on Corroded (because of other projects—and laziness) in at least two months. This blog is my jumping point to get back into the swing of things. I need to face the climax of the novel and conquer!

Even growing up in the also sporadic climate of coastal California, inspiration happened this time of year. I believe I began each of my novel length stories in the fall, starting at fifteen years old. The bulk of my poetry was written in autumn, with a generous helping of winter and some spring sprinkled in. Flipping through my poetry notebook I can count on one hand the poems written during the summer months. And speaking of poetry, I haven't written a cataloged poem since I was pregnant with my oldest in 1998. Question to self: What's up with that?!

But for now, I've got a terrifically awful poem to share. Remember, these poems are two decades old in some cases. Don't hold it against me! This one happens to be from the autumn I started college, at seventeen years old.

Breath of Life


Days do ever pass
Leaves turn golden and fall
Attending our last class
Is a walk down an endless hall

Sometimes it will seem
Like it's you against the rest
But your light will forever beam
You know you're one of the best

So keep in touch
With that strong sensation
It will give you much
Over-powering elation

Soggy Blog

Yawn. It's close to bedtime but I haven't written anything more than a few e-mails and a FaceBook status today. The need to put thoughts into words, to feel the letters and spaces flow effortlessly through my finger tips, was too difficult to ignore.

Sometimes I feel the need to write on paper. The mesh of print/cursive—that I was always corrected by the students for using when substituting in elementary school—is therapeutic some days. Especially when using one of my favorite Profile Paper Mate pens. The act of moving the pen over paper is art itself.

But other times, like tonight, I need the soft music of the keyboard—the gentle sound created is just enough to fill the void on a finally quiet night. Seeing the words fill the screen allows me to feel that I'm accomplishing something, even though I cheat and use a size 14 font.

It's been a long day. From standing in line at the local Wal-Mart Supercenter for 30 minutes because their debit/check/credit card server was down to having to rush to a pediatrician appointment for the princess (no worries, it was her two year check-up) to dealing with the oldest child's meltdown (and not backing down on the repercussions.) Yes, it's been a long day!

And why am I blabbing about nothing? I suppose it's about writing and life, as usual, but there is a deeper meaning behind this blog.

PROCRASTINATION.

Plain and simple. I'm avoiding my W.I.P. because I've spent over a month working on a short story. And this past week I've added a non-fiction magazine article to the mix so Corroded has been wilting in the heat of the southern summer. Well, hopefully its smoldering, but I feel so removed from it that I can't help but think it's less than it was... that I'm not able to return to the hundred plus pages without the storyline falling into the abyss of flatly written mush.

So, instead I choose to write a squishy blog. At least I've filled up a page in my document file. Any writing counts, right?

And to go along with this soggy puddle, here's the first poem I have record of writing, way back at eleven years old.


Trees

Trees grow, very slow.
By the sea and by me.
They grow in lawns and by ponds.
Very slow do they grow.

So Much to Read, So Little Time

Most of my down time lately has been spent reading. Studying is more like it. Up to my ears in non-fiction reading. Here's a sampling of titles, all from the local library:


Secret Lives of Boys: Inside the Raw Emotional World of Male Teens by Malina Saval
*Graphic language at times—the first chapter has it the heaviest.*
Over-all, a fascinating read. Boys are a lot like girls when it comes to worries/fears.



Exiting Nirvana : A Daughter's Life with Autism by Clara Claiborne Park
It's refreshing to find a book dealing with an older child on the spectrum. And one that's artistically inclined, like my son. Since I have so many informative books to read right now, I'm using this one as my light/nighttime reading. As interesting as it is, I look forward to some fluff.


1001 Great Ideas for Teaching and Raising Children with Autism or Asperger's by Ellen Notbohm and Veronica Zysk
Lots of good ideas: some old, some new. Taking notes...



The Everything Homeschooling Book by Sherri Linsenbach
Need I say more?


On a good—possibly pathetic—note, I've written over twelve chapters of Corroded. Eleven of those (89 pages) have been through the mill in the awesome critique group I'm in. Thank you, QuillMasters!
My main character is based on me as a teen, but amplified. The more she stretches her limits, the more fun (and harder!) it is to write. It's almost like reliving high school, thinking about all the “what ifs” and if I had that chance, would I have been brave (or stupid) enough to do or say something... For the most part the answer is no. And, an enormous NO for ever wanting to actually go back and live through it again.

Speaking of me as a teen: back by popular demand (well, all four people who voted wanted to see more) is a random poem from a seventeen year old me.

Lost

Crashing waves against the sand.
The tempest whirls in my head.
A soul
dragged down
by Satan's grasp
Has left the world
victim of the
sacrifice.

Numb no More

I've felt emotionally numb off and on over the years, especially since becoming a mother. It's difficult to draw the line between mother-fatigue and depression but either (and most diffidently the combination of the two!) could be counted as a cause of the numbness.

Since my WIP is a teen novel, I felt the urge to reconnect to my younger, emotional self. Pictures from the era provide an opening but it's my poetry that drags all the emotions back—kicking and screaming.
And, wow, was I in touch with my inner angst!
Check out my brooding self in Pebble Beach, 1992....

Oh, I miss my hair!

I thought it'd be fun to start adding a few poems to each post—providing a flash-portrait of some of the imaginings of my former self. I'll even put the desperately awful ones up.

I'll start things off with a poem which I turned in to my Creative Writing teacher and he wrote a “please see me” note on the bottom of it. I was too embarrassed to confront him, thinking he might be suspecting abuse or something. But he never followed up on it, not sure if that's good or bad... hmm.

The poem, written by my sixteen year old self, was inspired by the movie ___________.

Wait, you tell me!
(Hint: 80's fantasy. No, the movie title is NOT in the poem/title.)


Mask

Illusions surround
my every move
Walking through the corridor of eternity
I feel tampered with and used

Down the path I see someone I know
look again
it isn't who it seems to be
A face turned and twisted
in my mind
to become fantasy

But after all
what is a face
environment
or a smile?
They are things we hide behind
truths we run from for miles.


What movie do you think it is? Comment!
The first correct person might win an autographed copy of the poem. :)

And don't forget to vote.