2005 = The Year of the Book

Last year I focused on developing a solid writing habit and remembering that November was National Novel Writing Month. Both of which went well, and I feel that I did more writing in 2004 than any year prior. Much of it was freewriting, but still, it got the cogs turning and kept them greased. I'm convinced that went a long way to making the November novel writing venture a success.

So after giving some thought as to direction for my writing for 2005, I've learned to set the broader goals first. For 2004 it was: Write more. For 2005 the idea that keeps shoving itself to the fore: Sell a book.

The idea still scares the bejeebees out of me. I'm not sure why. Other than the fact that I really hate the spotlight. I'd have to be an Anne Tyler type writer. Let the books take the spotlight and stay in the background as much as possible. Of course I think you have to be able to write like Anne Tyler to pull that off, and I don't dream of being close to that level at this point in time. So the entire promotion idea gives me a stomach full of butterflies. But that's getting the cart before the horse, isn't it? I think the subtitle of my Year of the Book will have to be "Handling Events as They Arise".

Once I had accepted the insistence of that broad goal, I began to make a list of all the books I have around here that are half-started, close-to-finished and finished. The close-to-finished and finished lists turned out to be longer than I expected them to be.

It always used to worry me--and you'll see again my famous ability to get the cart way, way ahead of the horse here--is that the tendency these days is for publishers to want a multi-book deal, that can-you-do-this-again-next-year thing. And I'm thinking, what if I can't? What if I don't want to? What if my life gets turned on its ear and the last thing I want to do is write? (Which has happened before!) Well, I'm sitting here with my lists and I have at least two books in just about every genre or age group I like to write for. In most of those categories I have one finished, one close to finished, and a raw idea waiting in the wings.

So there--you scaredy-cat internal editor person. Next year is definitely, definitely, definitely going to be:

2005
The Year of the Book
Handling Events as They Arise (no worries, mate!)

:)

Just stuff

Sometimes I wonder how much of my life I'm sleepwalking through.

Thursday afternoon I sat here at the computer and caught up on a variety of things while I let the black and white TV on top of my dh's gun cabinet chatter away at me. I never watch talk shows. No time, and most of the time no interest, but I had never seen Jane Pauley's show and she had skaters on. I like figure skating, though I'm not really one to follow the private lives of sports figures--I'd rather just watch them skate. But I listened with half an ear and went about my business.

Until the singing started. That brought me to an abrupt halt and had my full attention.

I absolutely love music--especially a human voice--that reaches right into your chest and grabs your heart.

Where in the world have I been? I am so in love with Andrea Bocelli's voice. Oh my goodness, I could listen to him sing 24/7, and who cares if I ever understood a word of the Italian. My goodness. So I looked him up on the net, and he's been around for awhile now. I've just been too busy to notice before now. Not just "around" either--we're talking sold-out performances at Madison Square Garden, Grammy awards and singing Ave Maria at the memorial concert at Ground Zero for the 9/11 victims.

Let's face it--I don't live a lifestyle that keeps me in touch with the latest raves in tenors. :) No one else in my family is going to listen to this stuff. I've always been a closet opera fan. I went to the entire series of operas that ran the year I went to OSU. Loved every minute of it. But there's only so much time in a life, and when you're surrounded by people who really would rather not even try going there, it's easier to roll with the flow than fight the tide.

But I did go get myself his newest CD today. :) And I've been listening to it at full tilt because I can. No one is stomping around saying, "What is this stuff?" Talk about inspiring. And then as if his voice wasn't enough, the last title on the CD is a duet with a soprano that has a clear, rich, resonant voice, and it turns out she's all of 12 years old. Her name is Holly Stell. At least I'll recognize her name now before she's been on the stage for the past 10 years or better.

People who love what they're doing and do what they love with all their heart are irresistible.

That was the good discovery. The not-so-good discover is that my car is on the fritz. Of course it waits till my dh is out of town and I'm on the way to take my youngest's friend home at 10:00 this evening to really act up. It's something electrical--again--and intermittent, which makes it all the harder to diagnose and fix, especially on an old police cruiser. The thing gave a tremendous buck like a balking horse and the lights dimmed big time. My gas gauge needle shot up to way over full and stayed there while the the voltage meter needle took a great dive and the ABS brake light decided to blink. Weird stuff. But it kept running and as long as I was moving I was fine, but once I slowed down for or stopped at a light, the needle would dive again. Thankfully I made it home with L and then his aunt and grandmother followed me home. I did get it home and parked it in the garage where it will stay until R comes home. I guess I'll take the pickup if I need to go anywhere. I wonder how much of his work tools I'll have to dig out of it to do so. There is ds's car too, I guess. I just hate driving it. His father tinted the windows too dark. If it's overcast at all--and it's supposed to be the rest of the weekend--I almost have to roll the windows down to feel comfortable about what I'm seeing.

Brrrr, it's supposed to get cold, cold, cold by next weekend. Arctic air stuff. My petunias finally died. Just this week. They refused to give up, bless their hardy hearts, but this kind of 20s and teens cold was a bit much for them. Now that's one more thing I need to do--get all the dead plants out of the pots and off the porch.

I decided I'm going to bake a turkey on Sunday. That's when the boys are supposed to be home though I don't know when. I needed the room in my freezer--a twenty pound bird takes up an entire shelf of its own--and this way I can cook it in the oven for a change (R has been smoking them), slice it up and package it the way I want and still have something if they decide they want to eat at home.

Funny thing that--family traveling traditions. It was my family's standard practice to have the last meal of a vacation on the road before we got home so that Mom didn't have to unpack and cook too. In fact, if we arrived in the dark and everyone was sleepy, we'd park the car, crawl in bed and leave everything else for the morning. It has not been uncommon for R to drag in from a trip at 10 and ask what's for dinner. And all suitcases must be brought in and emptied immediately. In fact there have been times when we've gotten home in the daylight after being on the road for 6 hours and he mows the yard and wonders why no one else is anxious to dive into all those projects that didn't get done while we were gone. Duh!

I think perhaps he's finally gotten the hint that if he's not here I don't cook. So if he doesn't come in Sunday night looking for food, he won't know there's turkey till Monday. :) Guess I'd better hope they come home without a sense of smell, eh?

I'm making slow progress on the book. I really need to learn the lesson that I don't do well when I have just open blocks of time. I need the variety of routine and a timer to work to in order to get things done. Instead of promising myself a day in my chair to work on my book, I think I'll make a list tonight of things I'd like to do--a good mix of relaxing and fulfilling, reading, writing, house projects--and see if I can't have a better day tomorrow. I'm tired yet feel I have nothing much to show for the day.

The cedars are pollinating and they are playing havoc with my eyes. The corners keep swelling, feeling like there are toothpicks poking at my eyeballs when I blink. Not fun. So I think I'll go to bed where I can close my eyes and be warm and listen to Andrea sing me to sleep. Oh, and he's on TV tomorrow night--NBC Tribute on Ice. Which is why he was on Jane Pauley's show to start with I imagine. Sometimes I am as thick as a brick, but at least I finally get it and in time to watch the show! LOL!

G'nite all!

First Pass Done

I've worked all the way through my NaNo novel, just making notes. I took my "Sunset Orange" marker and a lined yellow Post-It notepad and I went to work marking anything and everything that caught my eye: misspellings, sentence restructurings, gaps, questions. I made notes about where I want to add/subtract/rearrange, where I needed more explanations or research, better transitions, more realism or description. That's all I did--just made notes and marks. Building on the power of pushing through that NaNo seemed to demonstrate, I didn't do anything that interrupted the flow of reading.

Now I'm making a second electronic copy of my entire manuscript (so the original will be intact if I hopelessly mess up the re-write and find the need to start over--YuK!) and will begin working through the book, working those orange marks off the manuscript one by one, page by page.

After I work through the entire MS to eliminate the orange marks, I'll print out a new copy, put it away for another week, let my brain chew on it, and then dig it out for another read. I'll have a choice of Playful Purple, Key Lime, Hot Aqua, or Yellow Blaze for my next pass through the copy. What's your vote? :)

No Time to Play

Again I read today the lament that students today in the US and other industrialized nations are losing the ability to write.

This is attributed to a variety of factors, one being: "It simply isn't taught in most schools."

My take: Schools make writing a scary, worrisome job instead of allowing it to be the joy it should be. Perhaps when writing is taught, it is not taught effectively.

Writing, like reading, is one of those things that is learned best by doing it. But if you're scared of it, or you feel like a failure every time you try, then human nature is such that it will be avoided and eventually hated. Writing can be reduced to a grammar and punctuation exercise--with the ability to "grade" it accordingly--but what about content? What about original thoughts and ideas? More importantly what about original thoughts and ideas with which an instructor does not agree? I have personally seen very good essays that were graded low because they did not reflect "correct thinking." This is when schools teaching writing become downright dangerous.

School, with all the mandated testing heaped upon students, leaves no time for play. No time for reading for the sheer love of a book, no time for writing for the sheer love of words on paper. Kids need time to write without pressure: no grading, no judging, no write or wrong.

The thing about learning is that you have to be willing to make mistakes to jump into something new. Our educational system is not set up to encourage risk taking. You do it, and if it's not right, it's a big deal--a big BAD deal. If it's right, who cares--time to move on to something else. If you don't know it, hurry up and learn it because we only have so much time.....

I understand that when it comes to learning we can't get obsessed with comfort. Learning isn't always easy and it isn't always fun. Stretching outside your boundaries is not a comfortable thing. Sometimes we--and our children too--have to be pushed or nudged in the direction of something new, different, or more difficult. But learning is hampered when there is too much fear, too much frustration, to little reward for the effort.

I also enjoyed this quote: "The reward of disciplined writing is the most valuable job attribute of all: a mind equipped to think." (from Writer Online News: http://www.writeronline.us/news/news-12-14-04.htm) Hmmm--so which is it Algebra or Writing? Or both--more than one way to build thinking skills, one for those "right brained" folks and one for the "left-brained" ones. Or do we learn to think by simply using our mind? Challenging it to find something new and to make mistakes in the process?

Just a jumble of words, not spilling very well today, but then I'm out of practice. Perhaps I'm just another one of those individuals out there who "can't write." :)