I’m eating handfuls of Hershey Kisses, as I am wont to do, and I stop to read the little labels, because I’ve suddenly noticed that they don’t say (as they should) Hershey Kiss. Instead, they say:
Oops
I miss you!
We should go out!
I hate Mondays
and…
I (Heart) Satan.
(Not really, on that last one, but that’s what I expected.)
…am still writing fiction. Who knew I could finish chapter after chapter? How many chapters should it have? Twenty-four? Twenty-seven? How long do you like your novels to be? I like mine around 275 pages. What is the word count on 275 pages? One hundred thousand? I think that’s around what I have. This is better than knitting. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life, Internets.
Truly though, what I’m doing is cleaning up and revising chapters I wrote ages ago. Some I have no idea when or where. I’ve come across a few new characters — characters I made up and do not remember at all, mind you — and it’s kinda fun — like meeting someone for the first time. Maybe those were some 4 a.m. creations? No idea.
I got through three drafts of this novel, tore it to shreds to start a fourth draft, then flung it across the room. (Not really — but I did click “save” on the file and didn’t re-open it.)
Leave me a note, would ya? I want to know what everyone’s up to out there. It’s storming like mad here. We’ve had an unusual amount of rain and wind here in the Pacific Northwest. And wish my mother-in-law luck — she’s flying back to Denver tomorrow.
WM
“A real book is not one that we read, but one that reads us.”
— W.H. Auden, poet (1907-1973)
Just learned of this event, from alert reader Anne…
Radical Book Fair
Sunday December 2nd
11 a.m. – 5 p.m.
Liberty Hall
311 N. Ivy (just North of Fremont and Williams)
Sponsored by Portland IWW (International Workers of the World) and Glaberman Library
Rumor has it that there will be a puppet show at 3 p.m.
Childcare available.
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
“I do not weep at the world — I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”
— Zora Neale Hurston
Thursday 13ers and all you Usual Suspects,
Come over here. Let’s talk. It’s always me, me, me around here. Yadda-yadda-blip. Here are…
Thirteen Things I Wanna Know About You
1) Who are you?
2) Where do you live?
3) Have you been sleeping well?
4) Do you still cuddle with a teddy bear? Did you ever?
5) If you could be a candy bar, which one would it be?
6) Do you miss me when I don’t post? Wait, I always post. Invalid question. (I’ve almost made it through November.) (Oh, that first post! It was so long ago.) Um. Do you get sick of hearing me talk?
7) Which blogs are your favorites?
8) What do you do for “real” work, or do you make so much money off your site that this is your “real” job?
9) What’s your secret? Tell me now. I’ll wait.
10) What’s your lucky number?
11) What’s your favorite side dish?
12) Favorite movie?
13) Last time you shaved?
14 — bonus question!) Will you please go buy a NAWACOTID or Wacky Mommy T-shirt from me? Thank you! (Shamless hussy.)
Please answer any or all of these questions in comments, or e me if you’re shy. Happiest Thursday to you.
Love,
WM
Celebrate your freedom to say, “You’re right! Why didn’t I see this all along?”
Who’s in? Check here.
(Looks like Kevin Allman’s in, too.) Oooh, he’s handsome. Go tell him hi.
You may be asking yourself, “Why not fight? I like to fight!” Yeah, me, too. And Hockey God? Always down for a good fight, especially when it’s the Portland Winter Hawks vs. Seattle. Here are 13 reasons not to fight. And the post that started it all…
If you’re in, send me your url and I’ll add you. We’re going to have a new blog, dedicated solamente to NAWACOTID, up and running next week.
Besos,
WM
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