Some Words Sunday–Date Night

Yes, I know that’s Back to the Future there…  There’s no video for that song I know of, but it works.

I went out on a date yesterday…and not with my husband.

No guilt, no worries…  My son and I spent a day together.  First we took in a butterfly conservatory and the raptor show they were promoting.  Then we drove north, listening to a-ha on the radio/mp3 player singing at the top of our lungs to songs like “Sun Always Shines on TV”, “Blue Sky” and “Living a Boy’s Adventure Tale”.  We had a quick but yummy bagel dinner at a local Bruegger’s  (it was playtime and he wanted bagels)….

All the world’s a Stage

Then my 7-year old son and I went to listen to the Albany Symphony Orchestra playing Vivaldi‘s Four Seasons.  Yeah, that same kid who is now watching episodes of  Dude, What Would Happen not only sat through two hours of orchestral music, but he enjoyed himself and talked with people (he has Asperger’s and often doesn’t speak to strangers…or if she does, he often “performs” at them quoting shows he knows) about the music and where he recognized the sounds of different instruments.

Can you say HAPPY?

That’s me.

It’s not just a pride thing, though I confess, I’m probably prouder than I should be that my son is this awesome.  It’s the joy of sharing one’s passions with someone and feeling that reciprocation that makes me extra happy.

And the best part came when we’re driving home, having been awake for almost sixteen hours of the day already, and the Boodle says “This was the happiest day I ever had.  Can we do it again?”

I may need to buy more tickets for the symphony.

row80 check-in

The Ruined Tower, one of my favorite images at the Albany Institute

Barring that I missed most of the #teamsprinty gatherings (even my Friday one was only a quick hop in to say “Hi” then I had to head out), this has been a great writing week.

I stuck to my five sentences plan and managed about 4 full pages of handwritten fiction and four typed pages of notes for potential blog posts.  Just five sentences…  at least to start.  It never feels insurmountable, even as I’m completely tuckered out and in need of sleep, the eyes almost closing on me…

I can write a lot if I tell myself all I need to get down is just five sentences.

There was also editing, commenting, blogging…  It was a busy writer’s week…. and photographer’s week  I edited a bunch of photos, learned a bunch more about how RAWTherapee and Photoshop work (not to mention how color pixels are mixed to create the images).

And it was great for my ROWFitness.  Lots of movement, a walk with the Boodle where we met a bunny (and he collected a bunch of rocks and two big clumps of rabbit tail–different rabbit), time with handweights and crunches…

Yeah!  That’s more like it.

How was your week?

 

What? Another #ROW80 – #WIPpet Wednesday?

Cafe Office

Wednesday, Wednesday….  It seems to come around every week at this same exact time…

Oh, yeah, it’s supposed to do that.   <:-|

#WIPpet Wednesday number two here, and close on its heels is another ROW80 check-in.

Chapters? We don’t need no Stinking Chapters

A strange thing happened when I started looking over my WIPs for this weeks WIPpet–I realized I haven’t written much of anything resembling a chapter in…  Well, almost 20 years.  When I write, I just….write (and then I type it in later).

Even with Release (my sole nod toward chapter breaks over scene breaks), I didn’t start writing chapters.  Those divisions came later… in the fourth or fifth draft.

So I felt a little off trying to find something for today.  I mean, last week’s post was easy; every book has a beginning.  But what do you do when you don’t break up your story into definable parts?

I don’t know what you do (tell me in the comments?), but I fudged it.  Since today’s date is May 8, 2013, I went into my present WIP Swan Song (yes, I know, that fanfic last week was fun, but it’s just the sandbox for Release and Swan Song) and picked out eight paragraphs from the fifth section from my Scrivener project for the beast.

“Are you telling me that you…” The Guard commander paused yet again, his expression completely bereft of the calm that Alanii had begun to associate with the man. After one more broken attempt to speak, the man let out a bark of laughter that caused the whole of the Spotted Hawk’s common room spin to see what had inspired such an outburst.

More than a bit nonplussed Alanii looked at the sea of curious faces, the mass of curiosity surrounding them an assault on his mind. He swallowed and then once more, as his mouth felt suddenly dry. Surely, he thought, nothing he’d done or said should have garnered this sort of reaction.

“Sir?” Alanii asked. His voice cracked, producing barely a whisper despite his attempt to show some strength of will and authority in the face of the guardsman’s mirth. He tried again.  Then when that “sir” had come out as a bare whisper, he picked up the ale the innkeeper had set before him—according to Val, he’d be wise to start drinking the common beverage in case he did end up getting his father’s approval for military training…supposedly wine didn’t travel quite as well as a good keg (although he doubted that). Then, as he tasted the thick, sweet, grainy drink his friend preferred, he understood what Val really had meant.

No wonder the man could go most of a day just on his drinks. Val, and most of the other guards, Alanii realized, drank their dinners. Either that, or someone had poured some very weak porridge into his mug.

The pause he took to run a cautious tongue along his teeth and remove anything that might have settled there had been enough for Lanilis Kailiis to regain his stoicism. The man gave a small shake of his head and then nodded to the glass Alanii had just put down. “What do you think the soldier’s bread?”

The man seemed more than content to simply ignore the fact that he’d drawn so much attention to himself only moments before.

Alanii didn’t know what he should say. The drink wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t something he’d have chosen. Had he tried it a bit younger, he might have acquired a fondness for it close to that of his best friend was. It certainly seemed fortifying enough. “I can stand it,” he said trying to keep his tone neutral. The simple fact that Lanilis Kailiis had called it “soldier’s bread” meant the man had drunk more than his fair share of similar brews during his lifetime. It also implied that the man would likely insist he do the same.

Why did Val always have to be right? Alanii wondered.

There you go…a bit tamer than last week’s piece.  I’d considered posting a bit of Release‘s Chapter 5, but I didn’t want you think that everything I wrote was all death and dismemberment.  Maybe next week…. 

ROW80 Check-in

YAY!  Writing, writing, and even more writing!

P writing blue (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Is that a good enough update?  I mean, it about covers it.  I’ve spent hours of writing, editing, and contemplating my WIPs since Sunday.  In Swan Song, ‘Listii and his sister are checking both sides of the road for signs of an ambush as they try to easy their way through some wild country, tired and wishing they could stop and rest, but not daring to.  In another unnamed story (the one I was posting last year for my Tuesday Snippets), I have Alanii and Valmara trapped in a trysting cave as a tsunami tears through the region, and the millennium of feuding between them and their families may prove more dangerous than the storm.

I’ve edited too.  It’s amazing what one notices after some time away from one’s writing–especially NaNoWriMo produced stories such as the piece I posted for today’s WIPpet!  Yes, I nibbled down the over-writing a touch here.  It’s still needs work, but I figured it was better to post this and write more.  It’s supposed to be a Work In Progress after all!

It’s not all roses this week so far.  I had to call the dentist about another inflamed tooth, and Monday morning I woke up unable to walk on my right foot.  Has anyone else has this happen to them?  It’s like I twisted it in my sleep.  But the afternoon my arch and toes were swollen to about twice their normal size.  Some ibuprofen and all…  it’s better today, but it was weird.

It didn’t keep me from getting some exercise in.  So in all, a pretty good start to the week.  And I missed (and will miss) most of my sprints on Twitter this week.  There are a lot of things to get done and most of them don’t involve me sitting at my computer.

Come and join in our fun bloghops!

For #WIPPet Wednesday, post a bit of your Work In Progress (hopefully a current one so we can encourage its eventual publication).  Make sure the sample you post somehow correlates to the day’s date (perhaps a paragraph on the first, or paragraphs, or lines, or sentences or …  well, something loosely related to the date). Then use this inlinkz linky (complete with blue froggie) to add your post to the collection!

A huge thank you to K. L. Schwengel at My Random Muse for hosting this group.

Brainchild of the talented Kait Nolan, the Round of Words in 80 Days truly is the “Writing challenge that know You have a Life” (and that is Life with a capital L).  The ROW80, as you’ve probably guessed by the multitude of posts I’ve made for it, has become my online home (Thanks, Kait!).  Even more than Facebook…  (definitely more than Facebook!)  Check out the blog, set yourself some goals, read the FAQ and then add your post to the linky and visit some.

Most of all, have some fun and meet some other really wonderful bloggers!

Related articles

• How Should I Break Up Chapters in a Novel (writers.stackexchange.com)
• Write On! Chapter Breaks: You’ve got to be cruel to be kind (dailykos.com)
• Chapter Breaks: Where Should They Go? (blog.karenwoodward.org)

Some Words Sunday–Compassion and Awareness

(If you’d like to just hop to the ROW80 check-in, please click here)

A bit over a week ago I finished reading Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt.  It’s one of those books that makes me very glad for the life I live despite any issues I’ve had (or probably will have*).

Angela’s Ashes (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Reviews of Angela’s Ashes are, as with any book, mixed.  Many who commented on it, criticized McCourt’s portrayal of the Irish people and how negatively he showed them.  I disagree…  I mean, yes, McCourt did shine a negative light on a majority of the people in the book.

I just don’t think he picked on the Irish so much as the global culture of the time.  He based his book in Ireland because that’s where he had the most experience (and a very small part of an Irish city at that).  If McCourt’s writing has anything negative to show us, it’s how closing ourselves off from others and allowing ourselves to concentrate on our own troubles harms both ourselves and others.

A (hyperbolic) comparison: people worrying about their sexual prowess as opposed to learning how to relate to their lovers and being better partners probably have saved us from the over-population of rhinos and sharks….

But I digress.

Last week, Beth Camp’s offered us a wonderful post on writing themes at the ROW80 blog: What Impels You To Write?  If you haven’t read it, click the link and check it out (I’ll even set it to open in a new browser window so you don’t lose your place here).

We all write according to a theme, some that occur regularly in our stories.  A search for true love, a need to avenge one’s self against real (or imagined) wrongs, growth and understanding…

Hallowed Halls

Often several themes will fill one story.

Certain themes matter to us personally.  These themes affect our lives, not just in the stories we tell but in those we gravitate to as well.

One of these themes made it hard for me to finish reading Angela’s Ashes despite the easy flow of McCourt’s prose and his vivid imagery.  So many of his characters seemed self-absorbed and uncompassionate creating a theme of “we’re too hurt to heal, and we don’t want to”.

My stories tend to revolve around the themes of understanding each other and “to truly love (and hate) another, you have to know them (anything less is cheating)”.  I like to write about people who outgrow the evils of the past.  I like to write stories where (at least, my main) characters undertake the challenge of working with those they do not agree with (or even like) to make life better not only for themselves, but people they may never know.

I know; I’m a bit of an idealist.

Not so McCourt.  Many of McCourt’s characters still seethe with over 800 years of resentment toward England domination; they would starve their own children to perpetuate to the sense of being downtrodden.  Sometimes they do….  perhaps not consciously or intentionally, but they are so caught up in their own pain and distress, they cannot even see how they could make their own “backyard” a touch better.

Then the “compassionate” ones…  the ones who are supposedly compassionate because of their religious intentions…..  sigh

Read the book yourself.  It was an excellent story and well written.  McCourt painted a believable and richly layered world.  And I have no doubt that it was accurate to McCourt’s memories.  I’ve volunteered in food pantries and doing social services for inner city families; I’ve lived in an off-the alleys region of West (Arbor) Hill in Albany for years; and I’ve watched how self-absorbed people perpetuate the suffering they’ve experienced by ignoring the needs of the next generation.

It’s not an Irish thing, not  anymore than the suffering in Palestine was/is a Semite thing, or the politics of the USA are North/South things, etc..  It’s a human thing.  Somewhere along the line of our existence on this planet, human’s became self-aware… some of us didn’t stop–we became self-important.

And then to heck with anyone or anything else… 

Row80 Check-in + Fitness

Well, hello….

Better news since Wednesday!  Writing, real writing, has come out of this scattered head of mine, most of it on the backs of pounded trees, I’m embarrassed to say.  (Is it wrong to say I’m a treehugger and then prefer to write with pen and paper?)

It started out choppy.  I didn’t feel much inspiration to write, and every day always seemed to be more full than there were hours available.  So I made a pact with myself.  I would write something, anything, before I went to bed (if I didn’t get to it sooner).  The only catch was it had to be on a story–not email, not a blog post, not a letter to someone, not even free-writing.  I had to write fiction.  Even just “5 Sentences“. **

The first day, I made six sentences, the next day half a page…  Things just keep progressing.

Editing and social media are all OK.  I’ve been less active with wordsprints and chats than perhaps I could be, but I’m gearing up for JuNoWriMo (check out the new site; there has been a lot of changes there) when I’ll be hosting sprints again.  And I’ve avoided Facebook and G+ more than is socially wise, because they have magical powers similar to Fae Lands…

The gardens are weeded (I ate two fresh stalks of asparagus from the garden yesterday–yum!), and the espaliered trees are all in bloom and growing well in their new shapes.  We may even have fresh apricots this year.

Chicka-dee-dee-dee

The camera walks have become longer and richer…  They’re not a replacement for exercise, but each one has added to my ROW80 Fitness progress.  And I think they’ve helping the fiction too.

The sunburns not so much.

That’s about it for this check-in.  I need to go write something in a world where eventually old quarrels will be resolved and people will find ways to help others because they feel called to public service, not public promotion.

How about you?  What kinds of stories do you like to read?  Why?

ROW80 is a writing community.  Check out some of our other wonderful member’s posts here at this week’s linky.

* Life involves good times and bad times.  If I grow enough to stop repeating the same old mistakes, I’m sure I can find some news ones to try.

** “5 Sentences” was my meme for my sponsor period during last year’s ROW80.  Similar in theme to Kait Nolan’s Test Mile, I would tell blocked ROWers and those who claimed they had no time to write to  just write five sentences each day, even if they could do no more.  The hope was that they’d feel inspired to write more, but at least they’d have that much done.  It works.