No-need-to-talk Tuesday

You know when you're out of sorts and you can't find something pleasant to say, it might be time to do as Grandma suggested: If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. I kind of thought that was going to be my plan.

But I can talk about the weather. It's nice and cool. Unexpectedly, unbelievably cool. Only 45 degrees, and the house is even a little chilly. We'd already reached the stage of tropical despair some folks celebrate as summer. I really need to move to the tundra because last night as I walked, even the sun seemed slanted in that end-of-summer light. I had to caution myself to remember fall was not arriving. But I was a little excited anyway! :-)

Bittersweet Monday

Wow. Almost a month has passed since I last blogged. What a month it's been.

Our daughter graduated from college with a B.S. in Nursing. That doesn't tell you everything. She's escaped the roommates from hell. She won another clinical award for her compassion and nurturing care of patients and their families. She finished a mountain of tests and papers, and shared a research project award. She walked on Saturday, with a big grin on her lovely face, despite enduring the heinous roommates, the exhausting work, the fact that she was torn between visiting family and the fun of the last week of undergraduate college, and the need to finish moving out of the dorm.

I'm so proud of her I could bust, and yet, I'm also a little sad. She's moving on now, and it's what she's supposed to do. She's independent and intelligent and she's eager to make her own way.

I'm a little sad because she won't always be down the hall in her room, and she won't always ask me if I want to go read in the comfy chairs at B&N, and simply--she won't live under our roof any more.

Our roof is going to feel pretty empty.

Tuesday--Doin' my homework!

When I was a girl, my aunts and cousin could all knit, but I could only crochet. Knitting looked so confusing that I never ventured to do it. I love crocheting, and I made up patterns to make clothes for my Barbie (when she wasn't shooting the rapids--storm-swollen streams in our share of the Tennessee woods)with GI Joe. I also made up a pattern for a cool (read dramatic) sweater with a pointy hood and bell sleeves. Very monk-like, perfect for the teenage girl I was at the time! :-)

I still love crocheting, but I'm not afraid of knitting now. A few weeks ago, I was wandering the square in town with a friend, and we stumbled across a new shop devoted to all things knitting. They had a note in the front window advertising classes so I darted inside before I could change my mind and decide I didn't have time to finally learn to knit.

Might have been a mistake. After two Monday nights of making new friends and laughing through a two-hour class and dreaming of all the lovely new things I can make out of beautiful yarns (fiber, the truly adept seem to call it), I only have time to knit!

Toto?

Finally, the rowboats and puppies have stopped flying past our windows. Which means the satellite's working again. Yay!

Critiquing for my buddy today. I feel so lucky that I get to read her books before they go out into the world. Karen Whiddon's a great writer, and I'm delighting in the latest Pack story. Karen's comments always improve my work--and I think reading for her also improves me because I hope I write as well as she does. So many people in this business say we're in the field of storytelling, and I'm afraid I often wonder, what does that mean? But, as I'm admiring the new twists Karen's taking, I find myself thinking, she's a storyteller.

The cool thing about paranormal is the excellent freedom to create your own world. My stories are more family and realism-oriented so when I read a paranormal, I get the joy of wondering--how did she come up with that? And the more casual an author's tone is, the better I like it. It was what I loved best about Harry Potter. I was reading from Harry's point of view--learning about the magical world, but my favorite moments were Harry's excitement at facets of magical life that the other characters took for granted. And then--Arthur Weasley's fascination with all things muggle.

I guess a different life is always seductive.

Do you write in...

Silence?

To music?

To some other form of background noise?

At first I had to have silence--or at least only the background noise of my family playing and chatting and sometimes arguing--often laughing. Then, I moved on to music. I wrote to movie soundtracks. Anything by James Horner. That man stirs my soul. Seriously. A writer should be embarrassed to write such possibly trite words, but those words are absolutely true. I put on the soundtrack to Glory whenever I want to believe I can be better than I am.

I also loved the Out of Africa and Green Card soundtracks. In fact, I just added the Green Card tracks to my writing playlist. (Back to that in a moment.)

From soundtracks, I moved on to the news channels on TV. I needed voices, but I am a multitasker. If I hear conversation I haven't heard before I have to pay attention while I write. So, I went for movies I've seen a billion times. The comfort of both voices and the familiar.

Inevitably, that kind of wore out, too. :-) Lately, I'm running on a mixture of all my favorite sounds. Depending upon mood, I put in a well-watched DVD or I turn on a rerun on the History Channel (who can live without the History Channel?) Or I glom on to the iPod.

I noticed my iTunes writing playlist is growing lately. I went through a Phil Collins period. His voice just really works for me, and I love the 80s music of my youth! :-)

Anyway, I don't seem to be looking for a mood or a tone these days. The playlist includes Billie Holiday, Simon and Garfunkle, Kanye West, Ne-Yo, the Eagles, Don Henley (by himself), Sting, the Police, Duffy, Rascal Flatts, Keith Urban, Toto, John Mayer--and I recently had to move Chris Brown off. Marvin Gaye is always on there, as are Louis Prima and ohhhhh, Nat King Cole! But I've added the most beautiful piece of music, ever. Meditation on Thais by Massenet. I can't listen to it very often, because I cannot pay attention to anything else when I'm hearing it.

Isn't it amazing how some pieces of music feel as if they were written just to make you feel?

For fun and a good book...

stuffed with six paranormal shorts, visit Karen Whiddon's blog, and enter the Midnight Cravings contest.

These are great stories under a gorgeous cover!

Tuesday

Meeting friends for lunch today. Writing friends, so we'll catch up on everyone's work and goals. We also like to share any new writing "learnings," (as we used to say in my more corporate job).

In this case it works. I've definitely learned that thing about getting to the point. I was trying to figure out how many words I cut from my revision. Part of the cutting was due to a plot thread that didn't work. (Note to Self: If you can cut without any other editing, it never worked, because a thread is also a braid, and I didn't have to unbraid much on this thread.)

Part of the cutting was just--does anyone ever need to see some configuration of these words again? Repetition and I were close friends, pre-revision.

And part was just--what the heck?

So, I cut about 20,000 words in all. And the good news is, it didn't come up short. It's about the same length as before, because that tricky plot point that I talked over with my editor gave me meat for the conflict, and the story grew when the conflict was right. I had a hard time writing this book first time around. It was the start of my crisis of confidence, but when the conflict was right, the story just felt right. It's that "feel" that I haven't been able to get for the past year or so.

But that's a learning I can't pass on to my friends because first, I don't want to see them in the same spot I've been, worrying over every word, every turn of plot, every piece of characterization. Second, it's almost like wishing my bad Karma on someone else to bring it up. And last, if I could intimate what that feeling is, I probably wound have found my way back to it before now.

I will say, though I've been groping in the dark on these proposals I'm polishing, they feel pretty right, too. So, despite the crisis and no confidence, I kept writing and the stories are there.

Oh--a learning--don't give up! Sounds trite, but even when you're fighting yourself, don't stop. This year, for the first time in my life, I looked giving up on writing in the eye. It wasn't working--I was plying word after word that didn't work--and I had to keep starting over because I just couldn't wrestle even these proposals into a workable story. There are 24 files in one proposal folder, and 23 in the other. That means I've tried that many times to get a chapter and a synopsis on each idea.

So, this is what I've learned. Don't give up.

That works in any job. But isn't it easier advised than done?