I have lots of little quirks, when it comes to writing fiction. (My family, in the background, “HA. HA. Ha!”)

Blog posts are a whole different animal — they strike when they strike. It doesn’t matter if a cat is on my desk, drinking my coffee, or if he’s yowling out the window at birds (that would be Wacky Cat 3). The kids can be fighting and wrestling at my feet, I can be talking with my Mom, Zip or the insurance company on the phone, it does not matter. Have blog, will post.

But when I’m writing fiction, I have to do things in a certain order.

* First, I have to vacuum and dust my entire office. (Done. This is why it’s awesome to have several days in a row to write.)

* All clutter and paperwork have to be out of my sight.

* I have to eat really simple food — sandwiches, a bowl of soup, pieces of fruit, an entire bag of Hershey kisses — because this is not cooking time, this is writing time.

* I keep a jug of water and a glass next to me, so I don’t have to leave my office. (I love my office, I mean it. Three windows, a glass door to the backyard, so I can keep an eye on the kids when they’re playing. Why am I moving? Can I keep the office?)

* I cannot pay bills, fold laundry, any of that, or else I’m derailed.

* I have to have a cup of tea. Preferably English breakfast with three splashes of milk. Or an entire pot of coffee. (Will settle today for my alloted cup.)

* The phone cannot ring. If it does, I tell whoever it is (unless it’s an agent or editor, or another writer who is looking for excuses not to write — sometimes I will play, other times I won’t) “Gotta go, writing.” Then I hang up. They’re all used to this. At least, I hope no one’s feelings get hurt. I have become my grandmother — dad’s mom. She was queen of saying, “OK, then.” (click.)

* I have to have some music on, but it has to be just the right music, at the right level. Not too quiet, not too loud.

* Blog posts have to be wrapped up tight.

Gotta go, writing.

happy Saturday, y’all.

Nancy

* I’m listening to Tracy Chapman’s version of, “3 Little Birds,” Van Morrison, “How Long Has This Been Going On,” and Elvis Costello, “Every Day I Write the Book.”

* Just talked with Planet Nomad; they are back from California safe and sound, studying French and enjoying the rain.

* Hockey God and my mother-in-law just ran the kids to school. She’s here for four days which means… I GET TO WRITE WHILE SHE AND MY HUSBAND, HER SON, WATCH THE KIDS.

* My kids are blessed, blessed and extremely spoiled rotten by four grandparents (3 grandmas and 1 grandpa) who are all playful, talented, and good-looking, to boot. (The blue eyes, the kooky mannerisms, the musical obsessions, the love of books — they get all of it from their grandparents.) Before school, Wacky Boy and Grandma were playing with transformers.

Her: “Look! This one turns into a guy, then back into a car, then back into a guy again!”

Wacky Boy, eyes shining and looking at her adoringly: “YES.”

She also admired the “fossils” that the kids made for her out of plaster-of-paris and seashells. Tonight we’re having dinner with my mom and sister. In the meantime…

* …I write. More fiction.

* Hey, is NoPoMoFoMamaLamaDingDong over today? It was fun.

Happy Friday, yins.

WM

writing fiction today…

love,

wm

No doctor visits/
Just touching base, Joe/
Check out Bling Bling watches/
Double Your Money in Record Time/
Protect your loved ones/
I couldn’t understand some parts of this article, but it sounds interesting/
No any risk for you, just contact me/
Set your lassie on fire/
Drinking wine/
Ease the pain/
Make your beloved woman worship/
Personalized Letters from Santa Claus!

the end

copyright 2007 WM

(Will this make my junk mail problem worse? I get about 2,000 a day. I counted. Happy Saturday night!)

All jokes aside, Wacky Mommy sends support and a big cheer to the Writers’ Guild of America, East and West, who are now out on strike.

Best wishes for a short strike that brings you a fair agreement.

“Pencils down means pencils down.”

(PS — Do you qualify to join? Find out here and here. I do not, unfortunately, although I am going to look into the Associate’s Program. Maybe someday…)

Here are 100 words to get you started (from the Giant Write Every Day Book):

1997 1997 775 american animal answer baby best birthday cat celebrate color come corp day december describe dog down during egg emc family father favorite feel find first five flag friends games get giant gift give go good hear help home imagine include july know list little look lost march may mean might mother name new night now paper people popcorn pretend questions read reasons rights say school see september shoes should smells something sounds special spring starters story students summer take tell things think time titles topics tree trick try use want week winter words world write writing year

All of you who are whining and “just saying no!” to writing every day? What is so hard about writing? Granted, I may have more time on my hands than you do. All I’ve been doing over here is having sex with my husband and enjoying the new carpet that the carpet dudes installed.

Is that stopping me from writing? Nooooooo, it is not! I’ve posted seven or eight times already today. Follow my lead it is fun. You just have to start “borrowing” other people’s writing. Quotes, recipes, first sentences of novels and what-not.

I do not call this “thieving” when I “borrow” from someone else… no, no, no, I call it “paying homage.” Write on!

Writing is not hard; writing is easy! Here is Steve Martin to tell you why: (more…)

I believe I signed up for NoPoMoFoMamaLamaDingDongWriteEveryDay in November, The New Internet Sensation. I thought that what this meant was that at the end of November, somebody would send me, via Fed Ex, a nicely-completed, fully-edited manuscript, with my name attached, and an agent’s phone number. An agent who had already sold the manuscript for a healthy advance.

This is apparently not what NoPoMoFoMamaLamaDingDongWriteEveryDay in November is at all.

Dammit, I really need to read the fine print from here on out.

And figure out how to use BlogRolling so I can get my blog listed on the website.

Farewell,

WM

I do like to keep busy, so I went ahead and signed up for NoPoMoFoMamaLamaDingDongWriteEveryDay in November. You heard of it?

You want to sign up, too? We can be friends. Awww, but we’re already friends, so whatever! Lots of people are signing up for the thing, like Miss Zoot and Mallory and Worse. Mama. Ever.

I’m going for it, even if it means some days all you get from me is a quote and one sentence.

Because I’m packing and Extremely Busy Girl over here. (Who still needs to write.)

“The Song of Wandering Aengus”
William Butler Yeats

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

(from Poets Corner)