When in ROWme Do as the ROWmans Do
23 May 2012 9 Comments
in goals, music, ROW80 Tags: #Row80, accountability, Chamber music, goals, Online Writing, success, Troy, troy savings bank, writing
Well, this is getting to be a very bad habit here… the missing of Sunday check-ins that is. I seem to remember having a similar problem right around this time last ROWnd (perhaps even a bit earlier even). It would be nice to say that I’m getting better at organizing my time, but if one makes a point to bring up the whole “A Writing Challenge That Knows You Have A Life” part about the ROW80, it means I’m doing something definitely wrong here.
Or, it means, I’ve been sick. which I have… Sunday became Catch Up Day, laundry and the sink full of dishes and conflict. So much conflict… I’m counting down the hours till this school year finishes, and the less said about that, the better.
Sunday was GOOD!
I did have a wonderful time with Elizabeth Anne Mitchell at the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall on Sunday evening. The very last of the Albany Symphony performances this season, this was more an eclectic mix of chamber music and soloists from the orchestra than not. A wonderful performance that surprisingly also included the band and chorus from the Doyle Middle School in Troy as part of the Symphony’s Music In the Classroom program. The students composed and researched their own concert pieces. It was quite impressive.
I’m sorry their parents brought them home after their part was over instead of letting them experience the last four numbers. I suspect, given the energy and enthusiasm that these kids had approached their project with, they would have enjoyed seeing the other young composers’ creations. There is something empowering about seeing what can be done, or even what some people have tried, just so they might be willing to test new limits.
Goals were NOT…
As psyched as I was after last Wednesday (and oddly enough, I was psyched, about writing, NOT about being on the computer), everything fell apart on Thursday. Between having the weirdest “ick’ (still not sure what it was since it seemed to incorporate food poisoning, a migraine and throwing my back out) and my father “helping” me buy a car at the NY State Auction… Basically I crawled into my bed at 1:30 in the afternoon on Thursday and only dug myself out on Friday morning because I’d promised my son that I would go to see him at school for the last “Morning Meeting” of the year.
This means two things… I ended up NOT getting anything done for Story A Day or my sponsor posts until Saturday. I also ended a 230 streak at 750words. No Pegasus badge for me…not this year. 
It also means I have another POS car in the driveway to rant about in future posts. 
So my challenge for this month Story A Day is technically a bust. I was hoping to use the weekend to catch up on writing in the stories I’ve handwritten. I’m probably going to have to save that for later, perhaps in July, since I do intend to do the JuNoWriMo (really happy about the “not new story concept part” about the June Novel Challenge). I’m still handwriting my stories… these last few have not been very good, ihmo. When I do type them in, we’ll see if any are salvageable. So far they all seem to be something from a larger work.
Failure shouldn’t be an option
Clearly I need to spend some time developing my technique for the short form.
And until then,….
I will do as other ROWmans do–put my butt in the chair and make words flow. There really is no other way to go. The Writing Challenge that knows we have lives exists because we want to live as writers. So I missed a bit this week. It’s not the day-to-day, or even the month by month… It’s the long haul. And in that, I can still say I’m Rockin’ the ROW80. I’m still writing, I’m still posting and commenting and learning… and I’m still ROWing.
(Hopefully I will remember to edit this post when the Linky goes live. Keep an eye to A Round of Words in 80 Days for it so you can support other ROWers just in case. These wonderful people deserve your support.)
Related articles
- ASO helps students make music (troyrecord.com)
- After 140 years, downtown Troy landmark no longer a bank (timesunion.com)
- Despite poor economy, wealth of artistic activity exists (troyrecord.com)
- It’s All About Heart by Jayrod Garrett (rainingink.wordpress.com)
Photo Credit
- Violinist Joseph Joachim and pianist Clara Schumann. Reproduction of pastel drawing (now lost) by Adolph von Menzel, 1853. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
- Unknown, found here (a very good post that fits where I am perfectly)
A Mini-Mash and a Tuesday Snippet
22 May 2012 Leave a Comment
in characters, Family, Mash-up, Tuesday Snippet, writing Tags: Atyr, Atyriia, blog mash, Copyright, Infertility, Listii, little pieces, Sier, Tuesday, Unnamed Story, Val, writing
Since tomorrow is officially the next ROW80 check-in, I’m not sure I should bother with a check-in now. I have plenty of time to complain tomorrow…..
One thing I should do, especially given the large number of nifty pages I have been acquiring in my Blog Mash folder is actually share these gems that have inspired contemplation and thought in me. Every once in a while however, it seems prudent. Besides, there are so many wonderful places on the web to explore, this paltry selection should encourage you to find many, many more of your own.
Mash-Up Mix-up, etc.
First we have, courtesy of my software engineer (translation: programmer, a.k.a geek) husband, an interesting rant/piece on what good design means. Matt Simmons makes a very good point that sometimes what we think should makes sense doesn’t mean it will work for the majority of people. Or, that even if it does, that it’s a good idea, since it’ll be that one person that it doesn’t work for that will ruin things for many many others. Good design tries to take into account how people act, not necessarily how they think.
Here’s a cute thing I intend to try one of these days, perhaps: Merit Badger. For one, I love badgers. And two, it’s easier than trying to sew through the things (that backing is tough!). And given how long I’ve been qualified for some of these, it’ll be just like scouts… Or maybe not “just like. I did sew on three of those badges.
For a topic that hit uncomfortably close to home for me and others, I found these pages on male infertility while researching any potential hang-ups that might affect certain characters of mine. Granted neither ‘Listii nor Alanii are actually infertile (just strong affected by their Calls), I began to wonder if sperm count is increased/decreased in a Called man according to connection with his ‘tianiel. Since the connection of a Life Call something that can actually be diagnosed (and somewhat affected by chemical means (see ‘Listii’s situation in the Unnamed Story), I imagine there could be other symptoms of the connection.
For Atyr’s people and what might happen with both the Antianii and Wanderers after the Cataclysm and the Flight, I found this on Natural Gender Selection. As far as it went, reading this made me think a bit sadly on the historical trend of infanticide that probably came from this fact. Where males have traditionally been considered stronger and needed to pass on family names, put stress on the system so that more daughters are born, it follows that more daughters were probably destroyed. Sometimes the research I do breaks my heart.
And for your viewing pleasure… This post full of wonderful links to artwork draws me back to it on a regular basis. I could (and would) spend far too much time in a gallery that showcased these works. I love art that allows me to look again and again while each time discovering a new multitude of details.
And because I’m completely befuddled by Copyright Law, with thanks to Shan Jeniah, I post this: Copyright 1, 2, 3, and 4 (and the series goes on…here is a list of the entries and podcasts)
And now a Tuesday Snippet
We rejoin Atyr and Val as they try to find some peace and understanding between them.
The priest came in to find them like that. When Val finally heard the man’s discreet footsteps, he eased Atyr away, murmuring a gentle “I love you.” Then he glanced over to the fi-Harnii who was now watching them from the bed with a benevolent smile.
“I pray you will excuse the interruption, but it is the first day of full meditation, Sier.” The man’s tone was honestly apologetic.
He sighed and allowed Atyr and the priest to help him to the bed. “Full…meditation?” He cast both of them a curious look.
Atyr frowned slightly as she wiped away tears that stuck to her cheeks and jaw. “Dreamwalking in the spirit planes, Val. You need to tell your priest about your call with ‘Listii.”
He noted she didn’t mention the talia he held with her, though it was possibly because anyone with a priest’s talent could detect such a link. More likely though she meant that he needed to confess he’d been harboring a mind talent all these years.
As if she’d read his thoughts, she nodded. “Go on, Val. It’s not as much of a secret as you might think. Alanii knows.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how that scamp had figured it out. And she was right. The time for hiding the truth was long past. This wasn’t Tralan where admission of that family secret would have destroyed everything generations of his kin had fought tooth and nail for. He felt a gentle reassurance from the more spiritual planes where he’d been spending so much time of late.
He sighed and turned to face the fi-Harnii, who’d taken a dignified perch on the stool by his bed. The man’s patient expression belied the curiosity of the man’s encroaching thoughts and expectant pose.
“Silah?”
The priest continued to wait save for a small “yes?”
There was no pressure from this man. There never had been. A good man. He’d served with him for years, knew and trusted him as well as he did any man. This was still a big step of faith even so.
Well, wasn’t that what all this was about? Faith?
He smiled wanly. “First confession of the day, Silah. I’m talented in mindcraft. Enough to sense strong thoughts and sendings and to send myself, if I….” He coughed and accepted the cup of broth Atyriia handed him gratefully.
She finished for him. “It’s not a strong talent, Silah, but he’s developed it fully. If my guess is right, he’s been dreamwalking alone for the past few weeks already.”
He gave her a brief sideways glance then looked at the stunned expression on the priest’s face.
The priest sat silent for several moments then reached a hand over and wrapped cold fingers around his wrist. He felt his shielding pierced before he could bolster it. Natural reaction forced the man’s probing mental touch away and out of his head before common sense stopped him, suggesting that the priest had done this for a reason.
The hand holding the cup shook. Warm liquid splattered on his bedgown before the cup was lifted from his hand and both Atyr and the priest were helping him lean back on the bed.
His own defensive reaction had nearly depleted him beyond noticing. All he felt was gentle flows of energy from them and a soft urge to sleep. He opened his eyes with effort and looked at Atyr.
“Mouse?” He barely heard his own voice.
She looked at him curiously. “Yes, Val?” She’d begun brushing his hair back from his face with light finger touches. Her expression was serene.
That reassured him. If she wasn’t worried…. He closed his eyes and relaxed to the lull of rest their sendings encouraged.
*
Atyr watched as Val drifted into the dreamstate far more peacefully than many she’d seen before. She smiled knowingly at the priest. “I was right.”
The fi-Harnii had begun his preparations for sharing the meditation with Val, but he paused long enough to nod. “Yes. And that is no small talent he holds either. In such a weakened condition, I wouldn’t have expected him to have cast me out so swiftly, or easily.”
“Hmm?” She helped move Val’s arms into a meditative pose.
The priest shrugged. “You’ve clearly felt him use his talent before this–”
“Only once, last night. I’d never detected it before this.”
The priest nodded. “Think of the strength it takes to hide such a skill, particularly from a witch of your caliber, my lady. For a man to shield himself and his family for so long….”
Her gaze narrowed. “Come now, Silah. Val wouldn’t have kept that a secret from me.” Alanii’s words rang through her thoughts, now sounding ill-considered. She glanced at Val, his stoic expression revealing nothing even in his state of mental enhancement.
A flicker of his right eye lid–barely a twitch–and she felt something faint akin to an apology touch the back of her mind. No regret, simply an admission of the truth.
He had hidden the knowledge of his talent from her.
She sighed and drew back her hands to her sides. “When he comes out of it, tell him I expect to hear from him, Silah. I must visit Katsdaniis too though, and I might as well get that out of the way while he’s busy.”
The priest nodded. “Certainly.” Then, before she could say more, the man had taken a seat at the edge of the bed in contact with Val.
So, secrets upon secrets… The Hastor are living up to their reputation it seems.
Update, Downdate, What-Have-You and Snippet
17 May 2012 4 Comments
in creative process, ROW80, Tuesday Snippet, Updates, Writing samples Tags: #Row80, Atyr, Mara, sharing stories, Unnamed Story, Valichii Miniira, Valistii, worlds of fiction, writing, writing goals
Swallowtail
photo by Self
I missed my post again yesterday. Actually, that’s not true. I wrote it and wrote it and kept trashing what I wrote. The snippet wasn’t the problem. I was in an excellent fiction mood. Escape from reality was easy to come by, and emotionally necessary.
I’m in a touch of a funk. Not so much destructive as “odd”… The mind wobbles, so to speak.
But it’s getting late today and I still haven’t done my update for the ROW80 or found a suitable opening topic for the Tuesday Snippet that I want to write and post about. So today I’m combining the two “features” into one, the ROW80 check-in and the (normally Tuesday) Snippet of the Unnamed Story.
And as a little bit of shameless plugging, please check out the Garden of Delights on Monday May 21st for an incredible guest post by the very creative Barbara Chepaitis.
ROW80 Check-in
One might think that shortening goals would help a person find more time to get things done. Or that significantly reducing time on social media would add back all sorts of extra free time to one’s schedule.
I thought so too.
Instead, the laundry has piled up; the dishes have overflowed the sink twice today… and you do not want to see my livingroom rug at the moment. NO one wants to see my livingroom rug.♦
On my writing goals things seem to be falling into something of a patter, barring my “forgetting” to work on my blogs. The resistance in this area is monumental. It’s taken me most of the day to write this. However, I managed to almost finish the drafts for two short stories today, plus find a new plot point for CTSS.
In the worlds of fiction, it feels like the world is filling me up to overflowing. Even on days I have not been as creative as I could be, I am feeling incredibly energized. And though I have noticed that my output for “StoryADay” is not actually flowing as a single story every day of the month, I am finding myself ebbing and flowing from a day of dearth to abundance soon after when I am easily making up my slights.
I’m on track, and almost a story ahead…. I also am dreading the massive typing in that I will need to do.
As for the rest… Check-in comments are mostly on track. I have not done any yet today, but that will change tomorrow. I’m looking forward to seeing what my fellow ROWers have done with themselves. I’m almost always intrigued by posts I see. Why don’t you try visiting a few yourself here.
(♦ the real state of our house has been due to celebration: the Boodle is not the neatest opener of presents, and many the presents are those that contain a multitude of pieces. And the sink full of dishes in due to increased cooking sans microwave as the door handle broke on ours this weekend. The hubby is fixing it. All Hail, Gorilla Glue!)
Unnamed Story Snippet
When we last left the Unnamed Story, Valistii and ‘Mara were discussing politics over breakfast and Atyr had just told Val about their son that Val never knew about:
She heard the croaked “Atyr” even through the haze of her fury. That in itself was enough to make her pause, since even she would have admitted that she was too focused on her own misery to notice others when she got angry like this.
She whirled. He was sipping the water, one hand held up in a ‘wait’ gesture. She snarled to herself about his impertinence and turned back to the door.
“Atyr.” This time his voice was a touch stronger, although the word was spluttered in his water. “Please, Atyr. Stop. I’m sorry.”
That did make her stop.
He was sorry? He’d never been sorry for anything in his life. Certainly not that he’d ever admitted in her experience.
Sorry? Did he even know what the word meant?
*
It took her a few moments to turn this time. He decided that was a good thing. She did eventually face him.
Her expression bespoke shock and disbelief.
“Sorry.” Said that way she echoed disbelief with bland indifference discomfitingly. Again she said it. “Sorry. Do you even know what that means, Valichii Miniira?” She crossed her arms in front of her completing the image of disapproving lecturer.
He considered the question more for where it came from. Hell, yes, he thought. I’ve grown to know the meaning of that word better than I know my own flesh and blood. Better than you can ever imagine, woman.
He said nothing so inflammatory and just nodded. “Yes.”
She paused in her reply before lowering her arms slowly to her sides. “I doubt it.” She started turning to leave again.
Something in her tone inspired him to speak faster this time. A softer note… He grabbed at that, clutched at it, hoping he wasn’t reading her wrong this time like all the others. He hoped it really was her asking him to keep trying and not the cursory dismissal it appeared to be.
He quickly gulped down another swig of water. He barely swallowed it before he spoke again. “Maybe I’ve never been brave enough to admit it before?” Or smart enough, he mused. That seemed obvious enough to not need being stated aloud.
She didn’t keep walking away. She didn’t turn back to face him. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she started playing with her fingernails.
The moments passed in silence. He sipped some more water, wondering if he should go over to her but uncertain of whether it would hurt or help. Eventually he decided it didn’t matter. He wanted to go over, wanted to be next to her.
Getting out of bed proved easier than he’d expected as did walking along the edge of the bed. He tottered a bit as he left it. His cane was on the other side by his desk. He held himself upright though and slowly stepped toward his company.
“Atyr?” He tentatively reached out a hand to touch her hair when he was close enough to her.
*
“Atyr?”
She felt the uncertain touch of his hand as clearly as the hesitant overtone of his voice. She didn’t know what to think.
About this. About any of it.
She knew well enough to tell he wasn’t lying. Not because she’d checked his honesty. She’d stopped reading his thoughts and the meaning behind his words and actions long before they’d even become lovers.
Reading him had never helped anyway. She barely understood the reasons she did things. What had ever made her think she could understand someone else better?
She just wasn’t used to this, him being the strong one, ‘Listii being closed and insecure. She couldn’t help herself from smiling faintly. Maybe this situation, him finally having to face himself and his past actions was making him into the man she’d always hoped he would be instead of the man she loved but couldn’t live with.
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Why did the Havens always do these things to her? She’d always been faithful to the Bright Star, had always served Her to the best of her ability. Why did she deserve to have her faith tested so?
To finally see the changes she’d hoped for for so long was a trial greater than she’d imagined. Especially considering how close she was to losing him forever.
His tentative touch grew bolder at her change in posture. Bone-sharp fingertips brushed her cheek and jaw as they drew her hair back a touch. Then he touched her face with the back of his hand. She didn’t know if he really was quivering or if his weakness had taxed him to far.
It didn’t matter.
His murmur of “Little Mouse?”, so soft, so concerned, was beautiful. She wanted to hear it forever.
She couldn’t stop herself. She turned and buried her head into his shoulder. Then she couldn’t restrain herself at all.
*
Thank the Goddess that his reactions still were strong and that his instincts were good. He’d steeled his wavering legs only seconds before she collapsed against him. His arms went around her shoulders. His nose nuzzled into her hair only just before the tears started.
And he’d begun murmuring soft “don’t cry”s and “hush”es barely before she began sobbing in earnest.
“Oh, Val….” The rest was lost on a wail that he would have sworn was more joy than distress.
He hesitated only a moment then forced the natural barriers of his soul down as far as his strength allowed to be inundated with…
…inundated with joy, happy confusion, love.
He caught his breath, allowing the barriers to fall back in place, stunned for a moment. Then he understood the sad irony of the situation. So simple a statement…. He’d thought for so long it was too silly to speak aloud. They both knew the truth, or so he’d assumed. All she’d ever needed to do was look, and his soul was laid bare before her talents.
Lingering memories, whispers of caution…. His father’s gentle scold so long ago when Atyr and he’d had their first fight. “Don’t put faith in powers beyond your reach, Val. You love her, you tell her. You want her, you tell her that too. Don’t assume she’ll know.”
Likewise his brother’s caution about her fears came back, gentle urges from his mother, Vissellii’s lighthearted teases of how inept he was at dealing with women. Alanii’s urging to simply speak his heart before he lost it or broke it forever….
And for so simple a thing.
This time the tears of hurt, rage, betrayal even, were his. For so simple a thing he’d almost lost her forever, had nearly thrown her away.
No wonder the Goddess had refused him peace.
A twinge of gratitude broke through his self-recrimination and anguish. He’d learned that much finally, and it wasn’t too late. She was here, now, and there was time to start mending the past. Even if he died tomorrow, the biggest hurt was mended, the festering wound that it had hidden was being washed clean. Washed clean by tears he cried into her hair as her own soaked his shoulder.
That’s it. I really have to wonder… Does Atyr actually love Val? Does he love her? Or are they just going through the motions because the crisis?
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