I've got a lot going on. My mind is spinning.
I have homework to do. I say that with a giggle because I'm 44 and haven't had homework in about 20 years. This weekend I suggested my kids should have a homework party. When I went in to check on them, they were just studying quietly in the same room. I told them they were doing it wrong and made appetizers before joining them. We worked and then took breaks and then worked more. I didn't do homework - I wrote a chapter.
I'm at the cusp of the very difficult part - the turning point. The one that will make people cry or maybe squirm. The part of the story that's the reason for writing it.
My previous WIP is beckoning me to revise it - it's so close.
Another novel wants to be written but needs to wait. I plan to do a book review on a book on this time period (post Civil War) for homework, but I want to finish the novel I'm writing (post World War I) before I get my head in a different time period. That isn't going to happen.
So I need to write as my priority and somehow segment my day into sections - writing time and homework time. I need to segment the historical research too.
I need to make time for the cooking and cleaning and bill paying and all the other things I do that no one notices. I wonder if they'll care if I stop.
Showing posts with label organization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label organization. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Sunday, July 10, 2011
A Writer's Pen
This morning I slept very late after staying up very late watching TV and resting my back. I woke up a little groggy from the muscle relaxant I took before bed. The more coffee I ingested this morning, the more tidying I did with a cup of coffee in my hand, the more ideas entered my mind.
In the shower, I had it - the missing piece for my last novel, the scene I was missing. I went to my desk and pulled out the binder for this story that has been waiting for me to figure it out. I grabbed a notebook because sitting at my desk typing (even just this much) makes my back hurt and sends me back to the meds that make my mind a little blurry.
I looked in my pen holder on my desk. Not one pen. The holder had two screwdrivers (thanks, honey, for finally returning them), one pair of scissors, a big eraser (I don't use pencils and don't know why it's there), two highlighters, and several dry erase markers. Not one pen.
When you have an idea as well as a house full of children that could need you any second, it's good to write fast. I had more than an idea this morning, I had the text of a chapter monologuing in my head, begging me to write it down - the missing chapter that will finish my novel. And no pen. Not one.
I have spent my lifetime searching for the perfect pen. I found it a few years ago. The Uni-Ball Vision Elite. In black. The pen moves at the same pace as my mind and the color doesn't distract me. It smears if you use anything but normal paper. I have colored ones for edits. But not today. Today, I would have written in green to be able to quickly jot down the chapter while my mind was on it. Clearly that time has come and gone, or I wouldn't be here.
I went downstairs to find my pens. My toddler, who is two and a half, very verbal, and believes himself to be much older than he is, informed me yesterday that my pens were his pens. He loves them too. So I knew where I would find them. Whenever I have taken them away from him, I put them in the pen drawer downstairs in the kitchen. I searched through the drawer and found twenty of my pens. I collected them and placed them back in my pen holder with my screwdrivers and scissors, well out of reach of his little hands, further back on my desk.
Over the last year, I generally have been writing directly into my computer because I have a tendency to lose notebooks and have lost two stories that are quite likely hidden in one of the two dozen notebooks on my bookshelf. But I have learned and have a special notebook for each of my novels for days I don't feel like writing in the computer. For days I want to go to the coffee shop to write without having to lug my laptop with me. I put the notebook on top of my laptop so I don't forget to type it up later. Today my back hurts to sit in my desk chair, so I will be writing with a pen for sure (I stand to type this now).
Now I have my pens but my kids need some attention now. At least I can write later today - maybe whatever I get down in words will be better than what was streaming through my mind this morning. Nothing to do about it now....
I know how important the perfect pen was to writers before we did most of our writing on computers. I wonder if it matters that much now to other people.
In the shower, I had it - the missing piece for my last novel, the scene I was missing. I went to my desk and pulled out the binder for this story that has been waiting for me to figure it out. I grabbed a notebook because sitting at my desk typing (even just this much) makes my back hurt and sends me back to the meds that make my mind a little blurry.
I looked in my pen holder on my desk. Not one pen. The holder had two screwdrivers (thanks, honey, for finally returning them), one pair of scissors, a big eraser (I don't use pencils and don't know why it's there), two highlighters, and several dry erase markers. Not one pen.
When you have an idea as well as a house full of children that could need you any second, it's good to write fast. I had more than an idea this morning, I had the text of a chapter monologuing in my head, begging me to write it down - the missing chapter that will finish my novel. And no pen. Not one.
I have spent my lifetime searching for the perfect pen. I found it a few years ago. The Uni-Ball Vision Elite. In black. The pen moves at the same pace as my mind and the color doesn't distract me. It smears if you use anything but normal paper. I have colored ones for edits. But not today. Today, I would have written in green to be able to quickly jot down the chapter while my mind was on it. Clearly that time has come and gone, or I wouldn't be here.
I went downstairs to find my pens. My toddler, who is two and a half, very verbal, and believes himself to be much older than he is, informed me yesterday that my pens were his pens. He loves them too. So I knew where I would find them. Whenever I have taken them away from him, I put them in the pen drawer downstairs in the kitchen. I searched through the drawer and found twenty of my pens. I collected them and placed them back in my pen holder with my screwdrivers and scissors, well out of reach of his little hands, further back on my desk.
Over the last year, I generally have been writing directly into my computer because I have a tendency to lose notebooks and have lost two stories that are quite likely hidden in one of the two dozen notebooks on my bookshelf. But I have learned and have a special notebook for each of my novels for days I don't feel like writing in the computer. For days I want to go to the coffee shop to write without having to lug my laptop with me. I put the notebook on top of my laptop so I don't forget to type it up later. Today my back hurts to sit in my desk chair, so I will be writing with a pen for sure (I stand to type this now).
Now I have my pens but my kids need some attention now. At least I can write later today - maybe whatever I get down in words will be better than what was streaming through my mind this morning. Nothing to do about it now....
I know how important the perfect pen was to writers before we did most of our writing on computers. I wonder if it matters that much now to other people.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Back on Track
I am very excited to get myself back on track with my writing projects.
This week, I somehow found the time to read the first three chapters of my new novel and mark up the edits. This morning, I was able to finalize the edits in my electronic version. I can't wait to share the chapters with my writing partner. I feel like these two chapters are as perfect I can get them. They are done (except for whatever suggestions my writing partner may offer). I can feel the excitement of this in my entire body, like an adrenaline rush. If I could jump up and down, I would.
This feeling, knowing I nailed it, is why I love to write and why I know I'll be successful at it. It's like heroine to me. I can't imagine feeling a more pleasurable high.
Back toward the end of winter, I wrote about how I did an extreme detailed design for this novel, the way I used to do detailed designs for software development projects that needed to be handed off in pieces to multiple developers. This novel needed it - I knew the ending and need to be careful to twist the plot and characterization just so.
The design sucked the fun out of writing for me initially, but I have to tell you it has saved me.
Life circumstances have caused me to put this novel down several times over. Because I mapped it out before I wrote the first word, I can pick it up and start right back where I left off. Moving forward, I will always do the detailed design up front for longer stories. My former boss will be very proud. We used to joke about how I should map out my ideas for stories using sequence diagrams. I didn't go to that extent on the design, but I did map out all the characters, setting, and starting lines for each chapter.
Initially after I did the design, I thought I had ruined it for myself, that I had sucked the creativity out of writing this novel, that I may never write the first word, but it hasn't ruined it at all. I love the feeling this story has a solid structure around it.
We are going on vacation soon unless my doctor visit today reveals something that makes me unable to do the drive, which is entirely possible. My husband was very sweet to offer that I can sit on the beach and write for the whole week. I can sit under an umbrella and breathe in the ocean air and write whatever I want for as long as I want.
My plan is to edit the next four chapters before we leave, bring a printed copy of it with me, a copy of the design, a notebook and a pen. I want to write as much of the rest of it as I can over the next few weeks, whether that is on the beach or here in my home. It seems like lately, as soon as I say these plans out loud or write them down, something out of my control happens that takes me off course again.
I sincerely hope we are done with the drama and the illnesses. I will have to work around the surgeries we have planned for two out of three kids, the attention they will need during the recovery time, and whatever therapies or additional tests my new doctor has in store for me after my appointment today. And my family needs fun this summer - we definitely need it more than ever - that's got to come first for me. I just need to find a few hours a week to write.
How do you manage to keep writing when life seems to be working against you?
This week, I somehow found the time to read the first three chapters of my new novel and mark up the edits. This morning, I was able to finalize the edits in my electronic version. I can't wait to share the chapters with my writing partner. I feel like these two chapters are as perfect I can get them. They are done (except for whatever suggestions my writing partner may offer). I can feel the excitement of this in my entire body, like an adrenaline rush. If I could jump up and down, I would.
This feeling, knowing I nailed it, is why I love to write and why I know I'll be successful at it. It's like heroine to me. I can't imagine feeling a more pleasurable high.
Back toward the end of winter, I wrote about how I did an extreme detailed design for this novel, the way I used to do detailed designs for software development projects that needed to be handed off in pieces to multiple developers. This novel needed it - I knew the ending and need to be careful to twist the plot and characterization just so.
The design sucked the fun out of writing for me initially, but I have to tell you it has saved me.
Life circumstances have caused me to put this novel down several times over. Because I mapped it out before I wrote the first word, I can pick it up and start right back where I left off. Moving forward, I will always do the detailed design up front for longer stories. My former boss will be very proud. We used to joke about how I should map out my ideas for stories using sequence diagrams. I didn't go to that extent on the design, but I did map out all the characters, setting, and starting lines for each chapter.
Initially after I did the design, I thought I had ruined it for myself, that I had sucked the creativity out of writing this novel, that I may never write the first word, but it hasn't ruined it at all. I love the feeling this story has a solid structure around it.
We are going on vacation soon unless my doctor visit today reveals something that makes me unable to do the drive, which is entirely possible. My husband was very sweet to offer that I can sit on the beach and write for the whole week. I can sit under an umbrella and breathe in the ocean air and write whatever I want for as long as I want.
My plan is to edit the next four chapters before we leave, bring a printed copy of it with me, a copy of the design, a notebook and a pen. I want to write as much of the rest of it as I can over the next few weeks, whether that is on the beach or here in my home. It seems like lately, as soon as I say these plans out loud or write them down, something out of my control happens that takes me off course again.
I sincerely hope we are done with the drama and the illnesses. I will have to work around the surgeries we have planned for two out of three kids, the attention they will need during the recovery time, and whatever therapies or additional tests my new doctor has in store for me after my appointment today. And my family needs fun this summer - we definitely need it more than ever - that's got to come first for me. I just need to find a few hours a week to write.
How do you manage to keep writing when life seems to be working against you?
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Saturdays
My whole adult life, Saturday mornings were the time to get my work done. Then I would have the rest of the weekend to relax or have fun. When I was in college, I worked 20 hours a week. On Saturday mornings, I read whatever novel or Shakespeare play I needed to read that week for class. Once I got the reading done, I was free. I worked very diligently to get it done as quickly as possible.
When I was married the first go-round (also during my last three years of college), he operated the same way. We had a lot of differences - a lot - but tended to have the same temperament on Saturdays. Oh, wait, actually he worked every Saturday. I forgot.
After being married for 14 years, I was single for 5 with small children. They huddled in the family room playing games or watching a movie while I mopped and polished the kitchen and dining room every Saturday morning. As soon as I was done, we played. We went to a movie, we went to the park, we did whatever fun thing we had planned for the day. And I had no more cleaning to worry about for the whole weekend. The kids knew if they let me do it, they would be having fun very soon.
Now I am remarried to a man who makes every Saturday of my life completely dysfunctional. Every Saturday we have basically the same argument.
Imagine this: We are sitting at the dining room table. I am trying to drink my first cup of coffee and am battling a chronic morning headache that is inflamed by noise, irritation, and the sight of my filthy kitchen.
Me: I don't want to argue today. Let's have a good day today. [Believes optimism will last all day long.]
Him: Sounds good.
Me: Can you help me mop the floor [insert do dishes, sort laundry, whatever, but always just one of the 100 things I want to get done rather quickly on Saturday so I can play]?
Him: [Makes a face like an impertinent teenager.]
Me: Seriously? Fine, I'll do it myself.
Him: No, I'll do it [in tone of impertinent teenager].
Me: No, I'll do it. I'll do it all. [Impertinent teenage mode is contagious on Saturday mornings in particular.]
Him: [Stands up and starts rattling around dishes.]
Me: [Screaming rant about him doing dishes to make my head hurt worse before I get out of the room and before I finish coffee and get a bite to eat. Screaming makes headache worse. Stomps away upstairs.]
Him: [Bangs dishes around more loudly.]
The End
Every Saturday morning this is how it goes - unless I convince him to get out and take the small man with him to go to the grocery store or go on another errand, in which case the groceries are immediately plopped into the center of the room I cleaned while he was gone.
I love my husband and know for a fact he loves me and that he would do anything else for me or my kids.
I wonder if cleaning on Friday night will be our only hope for a happy Saturday for as long as we both shall live? If not, there a lot of bad Saturday mornings ahead of us.
When I was married the first go-round (also during my last three years of college), he operated the same way. We had a lot of differences - a lot - but tended to have the same temperament on Saturdays. Oh, wait, actually he worked every Saturday. I forgot.
After being married for 14 years, I was single for 5 with small children. They huddled in the family room playing games or watching a movie while I mopped and polished the kitchen and dining room every Saturday morning. As soon as I was done, we played. We went to a movie, we went to the park, we did whatever fun thing we had planned for the day. And I had no more cleaning to worry about for the whole weekend. The kids knew if they let me do it, they would be having fun very soon.
Now I am remarried to a man who makes every Saturday of my life completely dysfunctional. Every Saturday we have basically the same argument.
Imagine this: We are sitting at the dining room table. I am trying to drink my first cup of coffee and am battling a chronic morning headache that is inflamed by noise, irritation, and the sight of my filthy kitchen.
Me: I don't want to argue today. Let's have a good day today. [Believes optimism will last all day long.]
Him: Sounds good.
Me: Can you help me mop the floor [insert do dishes, sort laundry, whatever, but always just one of the 100 things I want to get done rather quickly on Saturday so I can play]?
Him: [Makes a face like an impertinent teenager.]
Me: Seriously? Fine, I'll do it myself.
Him: No, I'll do it [in tone of impertinent teenager].
Me: No, I'll do it. I'll do it all. [Impertinent teenage mode is contagious on Saturday mornings in particular.]
Him: [Stands up and starts rattling around dishes.]
Me: [Screaming rant about him doing dishes to make my head hurt worse before I get out of the room and before I finish coffee and get a bite to eat. Screaming makes headache worse. Stomps away upstairs.]
Him: [Bangs dishes around more loudly.]
The End
Every Saturday morning this is how it goes - unless I convince him to get out and take the small man with him to go to the grocery store or go on another errand, in which case the groceries are immediately plopped into the center of the room I cleaned while he was gone.
I love my husband and know for a fact he loves me and that he would do anything else for me or my kids.
I wonder if cleaning on Friday night will be our only hope for a happy Saturday for as long as we both shall live? If not, there a lot of bad Saturday mornings ahead of us.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Organization Weekend...?
Today the quest for tidy cabinets continues, but it wasn't intentional.
My husband does the grocery shopping because of my foot issue and is a really good sport about it. He brings our toddler. I suspect they have a very good time of it. There's a mechanical horsey at the grocery store outside the checkout. It's all the motivation my little guy needs. If they have trouble, I never hear about it.
Despite the detailed grocery list, they bought a little more than my disorganized pantry and tiny refrigerator can support. I got a little hysterical - perhaps an understatement. I honestly didn't feel like reorganizing another cabinet. Not even close, especially after I cleaned the entire lower floor of our house while they were at the store. I was done but had no choice but to clean it to make room for more.
My ten-year-old offered to help - maybe I didn't exactly give him a choice, but he was a good sport about it. I sat on the floor in front of the pantry nearly in tears, completely surrounded by packaged foods, combining boxes and checking expiration dates on the boxes in the cabinet. My son took the excess downstairs and took care of the garbage. He even put the empty boxes and bags in the recycling bin without a reminder. I am so impressed that he kept coming back and didn't ditch me - the path to the overflow shelf downstairs requires him to walk past his Legos and the Wii among other things that could easily lure a ten-year-old away.
We got the whole pantry reorganized with just enough room for almost everything. Several almost finished boxes of cereal had to go. We put the cereal on the kitchen table along with some items close to expiration with an "eat me" note on them. (I also made soup, so there was a soup option for dinner in addition to cereal.)
We also cleaned out the overhead cabinet devoted to band-aids, flashlights, and treats that I don't want the small person to see or reach. We found several unopened packages of gum that were expired (gum expires?) that I specifically bought for my kids - I have no idea why they were hidden away. We found random Halloween candy, remains of boxes of candy from the movie theatre that I did intentionally hide, and cans of soup (obviously the work of my husband). My ten-year-old stuck with me to the end. I offered him the girl scout cookies that had also been hiding in there - they were still fresh.
I am hoping my day tomorrow doesn't necessarily lead me to overhauling another cabinet or room. I'm kind of tired. I want to pick up the novel I wrote and just read it tomorrow and maybe write a new chapter or two this week on the new one I started.
It's a busy week with the school year ending for my kids. Because of the rain in April, my son will be playing 8 soccer games in the span of 15 days, which we promised to attend. My husband is busier than usual at work too. I think if I can center myself by jumping back into writing, it will help a lot. I hope so.
My husband does the grocery shopping because of my foot issue and is a really good sport about it. He brings our toddler. I suspect they have a very good time of it. There's a mechanical horsey at the grocery store outside the checkout. It's all the motivation my little guy needs. If they have trouble, I never hear about it.
Despite the detailed grocery list, they bought a little more than my disorganized pantry and tiny refrigerator can support. I got a little hysterical - perhaps an understatement. I honestly didn't feel like reorganizing another cabinet. Not even close, especially after I cleaned the entire lower floor of our house while they were at the store. I was done but had no choice but to clean it to make room for more.
My ten-year-old offered to help - maybe I didn't exactly give him a choice, but he was a good sport about it. I sat on the floor in front of the pantry nearly in tears, completely surrounded by packaged foods, combining boxes and checking expiration dates on the boxes in the cabinet. My son took the excess downstairs and took care of the garbage. He even put the empty boxes and bags in the recycling bin without a reminder. I am so impressed that he kept coming back and didn't ditch me - the path to the overflow shelf downstairs requires him to walk past his Legos and the Wii among other things that could easily lure a ten-year-old away.
We got the whole pantry reorganized with just enough room for almost everything. Several almost finished boxes of cereal had to go. We put the cereal on the kitchen table along with some items close to expiration with an "eat me" note on them. (I also made soup, so there was a soup option for dinner in addition to cereal.)
We also cleaned out the overhead cabinet devoted to band-aids, flashlights, and treats that I don't want the small person to see or reach. We found several unopened packages of gum that were expired (gum expires?) that I specifically bought for my kids - I have no idea why they were hidden away. We found random Halloween candy, remains of boxes of candy from the movie theatre that I did intentionally hide, and cans of soup (obviously the work of my husband). My ten-year-old stuck with me to the end. I offered him the girl scout cookies that had also been hiding in there - they were still fresh.
I am hoping my day tomorrow doesn't necessarily lead me to overhauling another cabinet or room. I'm kind of tired. I want to pick up the novel I wrote and just read it tomorrow and maybe write a new chapter or two this week on the new one I started.
It's a busy week with the school year ending for my kids. Because of the rain in April, my son will be playing 8 soccer games in the span of 15 days, which we promised to attend. My husband is busier than usual at work too. I think if I can center myself by jumping back into writing, it will help a lot. I hope so.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Organization Day
I'm not sure what's up with me today, but I was an organizing fool for the afternoon. I feel moderately in control of the things I had absolutely no control over yesterday and the day before that, and on and on. It feels good. I'm tired and don't want to clean anything else tonight, which I think will make my husband happy since I've dragged him along with me today.
Our garage has been a mess since my husband moved in almost five years ago. I admit that lately it has been much more organized than, say, this time last year. But it's still a mess. It's very difficult to get to things, assuming you can find them at all.
The biggest mess was all of the empty or almost empty plastic bins that we used to de-clutter the house when we almost moved this time last year. Today, we retrieved 14 now unneeded large plastic empty bins from the garage and cleaned them. My plan was to take them to Goodwill along with some other things in an effort to make some space. It turns out we have family that can use the bins, so I'm going to hang onto them for another week. At least now they are all clean and are stacked in one big pile now instead of being scattered everywhere.
I filled three oversized trash bags with random garbage on the ground - not garbage that would draw animals or anything - I'm happy to say it's not that bad. I'm talking too small shoes that are not in any condition to give away, a broken garden hose, school projects from last year that no one had the heart to put in a garbage can last year, broken plastic bins, empty bubble containers, random broken toys, and a damaged bike helmet.
We also found some great stuff for Goodwill - my daughter's very pink too small bike that I really seriously didn't realize was there - it was hiding in plain sight - a stroller, and some baby toys.
The garage now looks reasonably good. You can see floor. You could fit a car and maybe make room for a small garage band (my neighbors will be thrilled).
We came inside and organized the laundry pile in the laundry room. Somehow the once-separated dirty clothes mingled instead of staying segregated.
Once we decided to relax, I found a pack of AA batteries I found on the counter (out of reach of the small one) and asked my husband to put it in the overhead cabinet where they belong. The battery stash was chaos. D's were with the C's. Large packages of batteries were sticking out of small plastic containers threatening to topple them over (and onto my head).
My husband stared at it, not sure where to stick the opened oversized box of AA's. I said, "Let's clean it!" and convinced my sweet husband, who could honestly give a crap about the organization of the batteries, to help me put them into containers with lids. I am happy to say we now have separate stacking containers with lids for AAA's, AA's, C's, Ds, 9V, A23, and both big and small button batteries. I labelled them with a sharpie and added a warning to the button battery box, "Deadly if Swallowed," on each of it's four sides.
I laughed, thinking what nutballs people will think we are if we die tomorrow and they find my warning on the box of button batteries - on top of the thing where there's this one spot of absolute organization amid mostly chaos.
My next thought was to write a story where the villain kills by putting button batteries in PB&J sandwiches. Beware of button batteries....
Our garage has been a mess since my husband moved in almost five years ago. I admit that lately it has been much more organized than, say, this time last year. But it's still a mess. It's very difficult to get to things, assuming you can find them at all.
The biggest mess was all of the empty or almost empty plastic bins that we used to de-clutter the house when we almost moved this time last year. Today, we retrieved 14 now unneeded large plastic empty bins from the garage and cleaned them. My plan was to take them to Goodwill along with some other things in an effort to make some space. It turns out we have family that can use the bins, so I'm going to hang onto them for another week. At least now they are all clean and are stacked in one big pile now instead of being scattered everywhere.
I filled three oversized trash bags with random garbage on the ground - not garbage that would draw animals or anything - I'm happy to say it's not that bad. I'm talking too small shoes that are not in any condition to give away, a broken garden hose, school projects from last year that no one had the heart to put in a garbage can last year, broken plastic bins, empty bubble containers, random broken toys, and a damaged bike helmet.
We also found some great stuff for Goodwill - my daughter's very pink too small bike that I really seriously didn't realize was there - it was hiding in plain sight - a stroller, and some baby toys.
The garage now looks reasonably good. You can see floor. You could fit a car and maybe make room for a small garage band (my neighbors will be thrilled).
We came inside and organized the laundry pile in the laundry room. Somehow the once-separated dirty clothes mingled instead of staying segregated.
Once we decided to relax, I found a pack of AA batteries I found on the counter (out of reach of the small one) and asked my husband to put it in the overhead cabinet where they belong. The battery stash was chaos. D's were with the C's. Large packages of batteries were sticking out of small plastic containers threatening to topple them over (and onto my head).
My husband stared at it, not sure where to stick the opened oversized box of AA's. I said, "Let's clean it!" and convinced my sweet husband, who could honestly give a crap about the organization of the batteries, to help me put them into containers with lids. I am happy to say we now have separate stacking containers with lids for AAA's, AA's, C's, Ds, 9V, A23, and both big and small button batteries. I labelled them with a sharpie and added a warning to the button battery box, "Deadly if Swallowed," on each of it's four sides.
I laughed, thinking what nutballs people will think we are if we die tomorrow and they find my warning on the box of button batteries - on top of the thing where there's this one spot of absolute organization amid mostly chaos.
My next thought was to write a story where the villain kills by putting button batteries in PB&J sandwiches. Beware of button batteries....
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Anxiety
I am feeling some anxiety this morning. Yesterday I reread the first nine chapters of my just-finished novel and updated the electronic version with the changes. After my negative attitude yesterday morning, I felt much more enthusiastic about writing. I waved the freshly printed, newly perfected chapters at my husband and teenage daughter. They smiled and once again passed on reading it now. Seriously? Again? Even after hearing how much I whined when no one was all that excited about the last three chapters on Saturday?
My middle son asked if I could read it to him at bedtime - fair enough, it's not really an easy read for a fourth grader. Instead, I chose a chapter from the children's story I finished in December - that I thought was rather perfect except for that darned timeline I can't seem to get right. I read it and found details I want to change, lines I want to polish.
So this morning, in addition to wanting to read and edit the middle section of my adult novel, I really want to fix up the children's story. The stories are clipped together in pieces on my desk. The mess on my desk freaked me out. So I decided to work on something entirely different - a long short story I wrote in the Spring. I found it on a backup of my old laptop. I noticed the main character - who is similar to me but isn't me exactly - has the same name as the character in my novel. I also found two chapters of a second story (also with the same character names) in that directory - the story was written, but I unfortunately lost two of the chapters that I wrote in a notebook. The thought occurred to me to take the time this morning to rewrite the missing chapters.
My computer files are organized, but my desk is now even more of a mess.
Just now, panic set in over the names (worse than the anxiety over the mess). I can't think of another name for the main character in the other two stories. I know I don't have to decide at this moment on new names but am completely paralyzed by it. J.D. Salinger comes to mind - and I know I am not on his level at all - I was a devout follower in my teens and twenties and literally cried like a baby in front of my kids when I heard on the news that he died. It was a personal loss for me. I read every word he wrote multiple times, even the several lesser known books and short stories that all had the same characters' names. The problem with that was I assumed that those characters that pervaded his lesser known works were really personal to him, that they were his family. My characters aren't all that pretty - I don't want people assuming my characters are real - that they are my mother or sister or my kids. They aren't. Maybe a sprinkle - there's no way to not sprinkle bits of people onto your characters.
Now that I have printed off stories to edit and have yet more paper on my desk, I am doomed to organize and clean today instead of writing. I have less than two hours before I need to pick up my toddler from his little morning school. I have a mild headache. I don't want to declare this morning a waste - if nothing else, maybe I will end up with a clean desk.
My middle son asked if I could read it to him at bedtime - fair enough, it's not really an easy read for a fourth grader. Instead, I chose a chapter from the children's story I finished in December - that I thought was rather perfect except for that darned timeline I can't seem to get right. I read it and found details I want to change, lines I want to polish.
So this morning, in addition to wanting to read and edit the middle section of my adult novel, I really want to fix up the children's story. The stories are clipped together in pieces on my desk. The mess on my desk freaked me out. So I decided to work on something entirely different - a long short story I wrote in the Spring. I found it on a backup of my old laptop. I noticed the main character - who is similar to me but isn't me exactly - has the same name as the character in my novel. I also found two chapters of a second story (also with the same character names) in that directory - the story was written, but I unfortunately lost two of the chapters that I wrote in a notebook. The thought occurred to me to take the time this morning to rewrite the missing chapters.
My computer files are organized, but my desk is now even more of a mess.
Just now, panic set in over the names (worse than the anxiety over the mess). I can't think of another name for the main character in the other two stories. I know I don't have to decide at this moment on new names but am completely paralyzed by it. J.D. Salinger comes to mind - and I know I am not on his level at all - I was a devout follower in my teens and twenties and literally cried like a baby in front of my kids when I heard on the news that he died. It was a personal loss for me. I read every word he wrote multiple times, even the several lesser known books and short stories that all had the same characters' names. The problem with that was I assumed that those characters that pervaded his lesser known works were really personal to him, that they were his family. My characters aren't all that pretty - I don't want people assuming my characters are real - that they are my mother or sister or my kids. They aren't. Maybe a sprinkle - there's no way to not sprinkle bits of people onto your characters.
Now that I have printed off stories to edit and have yet more paper on my desk, I am doomed to organize and clean today instead of writing. I have less than two hours before I need to pick up my toddler from his little morning school. I have a mild headache. I don't want to declare this morning a waste - if nothing else, maybe I will end up with a clean desk.
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