Missing Marbles, reposted from my private blog...

I find it moderately interesting and incredibly frustrating to discover that my brain has a very limited capacity for memory, thought, creativity and, especially, energy.  Recently, as I've been training at my new job and trying to learn about four thousand new things, along with all the HR stuff that comes with going full time, I've noticed that I just can't seem to squeeze any time in for writing.  It isn't just time that's lacking, though, it's mental faculty as well.  I have found myself making typos, misspelling words (which really is strange for me), and misspeaking.  A lot. My mouth fumbles with my words, making me look and feel like a nitwit.

Basically, my writing has come to a screeching halt.  Since one successful Monday spent writing a few months ago, I've done nearly nothing!  I've had a few minor blog efforts, only one of which I think actually got posted, but that's it!  I have been busy on my Mondays, and I don't really feel like I can dedicate what little precious "free" time I have to writing right now.  Which is sad, because I still have aspirations to really write something wonderful one day.  I hate that "one day" keeps getting pushed further and further into the future, though.

I'm really hoping that in the next few months things will settle into a routine, or that a miracle will happen so I can go back to part time (or quit?  I love my job, but my first dream job is to be at home with my kiddos and have some writing time each day... not to be negative; librarian is on the list of dream jobs, so I'm enjoying it... don't get me wrong. :) ).

My life is very full, and I'm so thankful for that.  I have remarkable kids and a good husband and a warm home and a soft bed.  Life is good.  I just wish I could remember my Sunday calling before Sunday.

Breakthrough!

It is my first day off in quite a long time.  I don't count Sundays, because I am busy busy with church and church choir, and I don't count the magical, occasional Saturday because then I am 100% mom, which I love, but it is not relaxing nor restful.  So I took today and washed a little laundry, did a load of dishes and considered taking a nap.  Instead, however, I took a look at one of my favorite blogs, Gail Carson Levine.  She is a published author, who kindly blogs answers to questions from wannabes, like me, and at the bottom of every blog post, she offers a few writing prompts.

Since I couldn't think of anything to write about today, I browsed her prompts until something jumped out at me.  I started writing some ideas and managed to flesh it out into an actual story outline and synopsis. This is the first time I've ever been able to do this-- breakthrough!  I generally write linear stories- I just write until it stops flowing.  This has not been very successful, as evidenced by my 40 or so half-tales that may never get finished.  I am very excited to have a beginning, middle and end in mind for this new story.  I took a scene that Gail suggested and changed it slightly and kazaam!  I have an outline, ready to go.

So, thanks Gail!  I can't wait to see what happens next...

A look back

Posted a while ago, but I would like comments, if you have any.  I still haven't come up with a complete story to go with this scene, yet.  Writing Exercise #2

Deus ex Machina, which I'm still not comfortable pronouncing aloud

I've been pondering a BLOG ENTRY I read a couple of days ago, by an author I haven't actually read yet.  His name is Peter V. Brett.  My sister-in-law recommended his books, beginning with "The Warded Man", and I went to Amazon.com and read the first few pages they have posted as samples.  It is very good, Wheel of Time-ish fantasy.  I think I'll enjoy them when I get my hands on the books.  Anyway, I was reading his blog on Goodreads.com, and he was discussing a book by a new-comer that he had been asked to read and comment on (or "blurb") for the back cover.  Read the blog, you'll see what I'm saying.  That other book sounds really good, too... I'll be reading it one day, as well.

In the blog entry, he mentioned that he will pass on "blurbing" new books if he finds literary taboos such as deus ex machina, flat characters or flaws in the story.  This is the second time in a month that I've gone looking for the definition of deus ex machina.  The first time was while watching "Lost", which I chat about in my other blog, found HERE. There is an episode titled "Deus Ex Machina", and I didn't think I had ever heard that Latin phrase before, so I looked it up.  This is what I found on www.dictionary.com :

De-us ex ma-chi-na
[dey-uh s eks mah-kuh-nuh, dee-uh s eks mak-uh-nuh]
1. (in ancient Greek and Roman drama), a god introduced into a play to resolve the entanglements of the plot.
2. any artificial or improbable device resolving the difficulties of a plot.

Origin:
1690–1700;  < Neo-Latin  literally, god from a machine (i.e., stage machinery from which a deity's statue was lowered), as translation of Greek apò mēchanês theós  (Demosthenes), theòs ek mēchanês  (Menander), etc.

So, all you fellow would-be authors, keep this in mind as you are writing.  A good example of deus ex machina is how Glinda magically appears (twice!) to save Dorothy's hide in "The Wizard of Oz", first with the snow to wake them in the field of poppies and again at the end to free Dorothy from Oz, by telling her simply to click her heels together and she'll go home.  There are a long list of other cinematic, as well as book and comic examples if you are interested, HERE is a good site.

New blog title and address

A few days ago, I moved my "wanna-be author" blog to this new link and title.  I think it reflects a more positive attitude about my future as a writer to say that "eventually I will be a published author" than to say "I sure wish I was a writer!"

So here we are.  I am trying to wrap my head around a new way of thinking that will open my mind and free my creative juices a bit.  I tend to get a little discouraged when I think about wanting to get something published.  Not because of the intimidation of submitting something to a publishing house (I'm not there, yet, you have to FINISH something before you can submit it, I'm fairly sure!) or because I don't feel like I am skilled enough.  I feel confident in my abilities, and I am a fast learner so if I got to learn from mistakes or bad writing decisions, that would be great.  It's because everywhere I go, constantly, I meet other people who consider themselves yet-to-be-published authors.  Some surprise me, some astound me and others, I'm not surprised, I just have one of those sarcastic voices in my head saying, "everyone's an author", the same way my photographer husband says, "everyone's a photographer...". 

I need to not worry about the sheer volume of manuscripts, books and authors there are out in the market.  I need to not feel competitive about this.  I need to just write for the love of writing and when something gets finished, clean it up, submit it and keep writing.  That's what I need to do.  I can't reduce the number of people (women, mostly, but men, too) who also think they are good enough writers to do it professionally.  I don't have control over when/where or even IF I ever get published, not directly, anyway. But "Failing to try is the same as trying to fail", right?  Right.

I'm trying to accept that there is a lot of competition.  A LOT.  But that's okay.  If what I write is good enough, it won't matter that there are 45 million others like me.  And the main thing is that I love writing.  I just love it.  I need to write for the joy and the mental release and the addiction of writing.  The rest is just gravy, anyway.

Just a little exercise...

I think what I'm good at is ambiance, at writing scenes.  I haven't yet figured out how to flesh out a full story from my scenes, though. They pop into my head and flow out my fingers, but then it ends and I'm stuck with about a dozen good story beginnings...

Here's one I wrote recently.  Comments are welcome, in fact, if you can think of a unique story to go along with this scene, share it and we'll collaborate!  I think that's what I need.  I'm good at writing it out, but the "big picture" seems to escape me...  Enjoy! 

It wasn’t raining.  It wasn’t overcast.  It wasn’t even dark.  But it felt like it should be.  I glared up at the cheerful blue sky, scowled at the clouds in their fluffy white perfection and pressed my heels a little deeper into the flawless green grass.  I imagined it whimpering in submission.

“Whump!” the first shovelful of dirt seemed to echo off the coffin.  “Whump!” Again.  Not quite rhythmic, the repeated sound bounced around my head.  It was an ugly sound.  The sound of good-bye.  The sound of emptiness: hollow and howling. 

Cursing the fluttering breeze in the maple leaves over my head, I walked away.  “Whump!” The sound faded slightly as I moved to the other side of the ancient church.  The path I was walking meandered into a grove of trees, where a hill sloped down to a trickling stream.  It couldn’t have been more picturesque.  I hated it.  I hated that the world just moved on, birds flew, rabbits jumped, trees dropped leaves and acorns, completely unfeeling. Their callous indifference surrounded me, suffocating me.  I walked into the glade and cursed, loudly.  I cursed the Earth beneath me, the trees, the sky, I cursed it all, falling to my knees, tears pouring down my cheeks to drip onto my dress.  I cried until I was numb, then lay on the soft Wildgrass and closed my eyes. 

When I awoke, it was dark. Not the oppressive dark that lurked in my chest, but a bright, star-filled summer darkness with a cheerful moon peeking at me between the tree branches.  Grimacing, I stretched, standing.  It was time to leave.  I muttered an apology to the trees, the glade, the glittery heavens for the cursing earlier.  My chest ached, but otherwise I felt better. 

Home was a short walk from the churchyard, and I resisted kicking the cat as I stepped over him lying on the wooden steps.  My father was standing at the kitchen sink, staring out the back window at the darkness.

Asleep at the wheel...

I have not done any writing all summer.  I am loathe to admit that, because I really love it and would even more really love to make a career of it, but (alas, alack!) the summer is nearly over and I haven't written anything but a few blog entries, grocery lists and chore assignments.

Oh, and I know, summer lasts long into September, when the Pagan autumnal equinox rolls around, but my summer lasts from the final day of school to the first day of school, so it will be over in less than 3 weeks.  Gasp!  Not enough time... but... maybe I can start a daily habit of writing for just an hour a day, anything and everything, just writing.  I wonder if I have it in me... I think I do.  I'd like to think it's more than possible, that it's even probable.

21 days to a habit, right?  So for the next 21 days, I could get out of bed at 6:00, exercise, then eat breakfast and hit the laptop.  I could be all done by 8:00, when most of the family is just getting going.  Maybe... I'll have to weigh the benefits of extra sleep with the benefits of habitual writing time... hmm...