It’s The Fire Inside Your Heart That’s Going to Lead You to The Light

Today I read a blog post that literally made me cry. I’m a fixer. I want to fix things. My husband is sometimes exasperated by this fact and tells me to stop trying to find the solution in unsolvable issues. I can’t help it – I want to fix your problems. If you’re reading the blog and thinking I don’t want to fix your problem – you’d be wrong. I want everyone who’s ever read this blog to simply not have problems. I’m like a beauty pageant contestant that way: I want world peace for all. Unlike the beauty contestant I enjoy a fair amount of chaos and upheaval because that makes for the best solutions – why can’t everything be like the Chilean mine rescue? I don’t want to be the hero and I’m not searching for recognition – but damn it; bring on the conflict and resolution already.

How you ever gonna know if you never chase the dreams…

And that’s why today found me reading a blog post and crying. I can’t fix it. I totally get it, but responding to the post seems pointless and self-serving. Does it help to know that writing makes me feel that way too? I find myself constantly on the verge of greatness and then shying away from the edge to wallow in a comfortable, meaningless, part-time job-hobby. I’m not sure I would actually know how to react if I did get a book deal. I too build my castles and dreams in the sky and am afraid to build them here on earth; they might crumble and fall. Do I tell you that I know I’m “home” in every sense of the word - by your blog post standards - and yet still sometimes find myself pining for a time and a place that can’t ever exist for me again…a flat on the corner of Earl’s Court and Cromwell Rd and a stroll through the constantly damp streets and mews of Kensington? Do you want to know that my favorite writing place in the world is on a cold stone wall surrounding a sunken garden on the grounds of what is now known as the Enchanted Palace (seriously – that’s what their calling it now)? It doesn’t help you, find you a job or patch that hole in your soul.

How you ever gonna know what it's like when dreams become reality…

I’m left with one memory of two fourteen-year-old children walking home from school after just learning they made their high school marching band; gleefully chanting about going to Spain and Africa. I had help remembering – I recently read it in that blasted journal. But the euphoria of realized dreams is a sweet memory that leaves the tang of wanting more fulfilled dreams. It also makes me want to go to Spain and Africa since I’ve yet to see either. I’m not sure if that euphoric feeling is forever concealed in the wisps of childhood recollection – or if it’s possible to feel that happy and excited about any recognition of brilliance? I’m also not sure where this is going exactly. I said I didn’t post a comment because I knew it wouldn’t help – yet here I sit writing my own blog post with the small hope that it somehow will and knowing it can’t. Maybe what I need to say is simply this: I cried today and looked inside myself today and I wrote today; and I did all of those things because I read one blog post. Apparently words are power.

How you ever gonna know your potential if you never take a chance?

And on that note, it’s the last day of November and my NaNo novel is done – well not done, but at 50,000 words. 51,012 to be exact! As I don’t write sequentially – especially in November: where I tend to jump to the next big scene when I’m stuck so as to not slow down the pace – I will now begin the grueling editing, rearranging and expunging process. Alas, I love every minute of it. The computer and I are on speaking terms once more. For those of you participating, I hope you are able to cross the finish line by midnight and win a feeling of accomplishment, because that’s what you’ll win. Maybe this one will get published. Oh, I’m lying. And I promised to be completely honest in this particular blog post. It’s a load of twaddle – this year’s NaNo. It was excruciating and I’m fairly certain two-thirds of it will be deleted tomorrow and in the upcoming week. I have no hopes it will ever be published. On the optimistic side: I’m writing, the computer and I ARE friends again, and I will honestly try harder for publication. When you write, you tell everyone you know so they can constantly ask you about it; thus keeping you on track and embarrassing the crap out of you if you give up or stop looking for an agent/editor. Posting the information on your blog is ten times worse somehow. Knowing people will randomly check your blog for updates and progress reports. Well, I’d hate to disappoint you all but mostly I’m sick of disappointing myself and I’m really fed up with the fear. Fear should be no one’s constant companion, especially not mine. So I will try harder for me. I will try to recapture the joyful exhilaration of accomplishment and dream fulfillment I once had at the age of fourteen while chanting about Spain and Africa.

Listen not to the critics who put their own dreams on the shelf. If you want to get the truth to admit it, you gotta find out for yourself.

Oh, and in case you do not know – all bold words, and also the title of this post, come from a Garth Brooks song – “How You Ever Gonna Know”. Check it out – says the non-country music girl constantly toting Mary Chapin Carpenter, Alison Krauss and now Garth Brooks. Something else I need to admit to myself apparently.

HP Thursday – Harry Potter and the Teenage Angst on Grimmauld Place

Oh, I really hope this is not how the first part of HP 7 goes…
I’ve tried writing this post a few times this week but it just wasn’t going anywhere. Since the movie is coming out in tomorrow, I thought I’d take time out of my novel writing schedule – currently 30, 012 words for those of you playing along – and actually do an HP post. Really I’m just concerned my 13 followers will go away if I don’t get back on track here. And who doesn’t want to chat briefly about movie 7.1? Yes, I am geeking out and going to a midnight showing shortly. I’m way too old for this, so I’ll have to see it when I’m awake at some point before you get a cohesive blog about it. And we do still have the rest of the book to get through too. Apparently the whole book club thing really doesn’t work for me – or anything else with a timeline come to think of it (says the girl who works by deadlines and is trying to write a 50,000 word rough draft by the end of this month).

Anyway, like I said: I’ve been trying to write this post all week. If I don’t publish it soon it will be too late. I started by telling you what I thought was going to be in this movie, what I hoped wasn’t going to be in this movie and where I thought it was going to end. This was all conjecture and bored me to tears – hence I couldn’t imagine any of you reading it. Also, if you go to IMDb or 500 other movie websites I’m sure you will find out all of these answers and much, much more.

So what am I blogging about the night before HP 7.1?

Today I watched movie 6 – which is always much smarter than reading a book a movie is based on before seeing the movie. You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment then. Movie 6 helped clear my mind of conjecture. Instead I became nostalgic. Yes, nostalgic for a series of books and movies. But here’s the thing: It’s Harry Potter!

Fun fact: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows sold 8.3 million copies in its first 24 hours of publication.

This is what every writer dreams about. Not just making it big, but creating their own world and then sharing it with A LOT of people. The created world doesn’t have to be a wizarding, made up world; just a world completely created by the writer. Yep, nostalgia. Where were you the first time you picked up a Harry Potter book?

Movie 7.1 – which I sincerely hope is not just teenage angst in a house where three friends are trapped – is part of that entire world. How cool is that. Can you imagine not just writing really good books, but also having movies made about said books. Sorry, I went to a happy writer place where fame and fortune follow me around in a bubbly sort of frenetic way. I’d like to think that if my books became movies I wouldn’t dwell on the differences as much as marvel at characters and places I created being thrown up on a big screen for all the world to see. I might decide the actress playing Teagan isn’t quite what I had in mind, but damn, SMug looks amazing! If you’re a fan of the books, the HP movies will add depth and embellish your experience.

Obviously as a creator of my own worlds, I’ve got a pretty good handle on my imagination; I don’t need a movie screen to thoroughly enjoy the book I’m reading. However, I’m always up for imagination enhancement. At this point the familiar strains of HP movie music themes are playing in my head. Yes, that IS just like visions of sugarplums dancing in my head. I’m joyfully grateful the HP movies have been made – almost as pleased as I am about the books (Not quite. I’m still a writer at heart and anything – with the exception of sparkly vampires – that can get that many people to read ranks really high on my joyfully grateful list). I’m excited to see this first of the last movies. I can’t wait to see the halls of Hogwarts, that big, beautiful clock and the reconstructed (why did that burn down again) Burrow. It’s a transition movie and I’m all about transitions – bring it on already!

My Own Nostalgic HP Moments Timeline
Just how big of a geek am I? Oh, this much and more…
1998 – Pick up book 1 & 2 on a whim in London.2001 – The first movie comes out and my husband dresses like Harry Potter for Halloween. His handmade firebolt is better than any other I’ve seen and is still hanging above our cupboard under the stairs.

2004 – We have a Harry Potter film night when the third movie is released on DVD and I discover I have more friends who like HP than I thought.

2005 – On a trip to London we visit Platform 9 ¾. I’m chaperoning a school trip and the kids with me at the platform are so excited I try to picture what it must be like to be JK Rowling coming into London for the day and passing this sign and trolley! For those of you going on the Corey Best of the British Isles trip in 2011; I’ll be one of your chaperones and we can totally do this again.

2007 – I spend an hour in Rome perusing bookstores in search of HP 5 in Italian – the missing book in a friends’ collection. I distinctly remember sitting on the steps across from the Pantheon flipping through the pages. Thanks for sending me on this mission Tim.

2007 – I go to the midnight book party for the HP 7 release at my local Barnes & Nobles even though I’ve preordered my copy on amazon.co.uk. I spend at least an hour watching people of all ages buy books and just sit down and read them all over the store. One of my all time favorite book experiences and a memory I often conjure up when I get frustrated with my own writing.

2009 – I get laid off from my copywriting gig and decide I have too many pent up feelings about my crashing life so I must start a blog. Movie 6 comes out to mixed, yet passionate, reviews from friends and colleagues. My bright idea: Include HP Mondays in my blog to methodically discuss a great series and the art of writing for young adults. Great discussions and lots of inspiration ensue.

And although I’ve used far too many exclamation points in this blog…Enjoy the movie everyone!

A Lesson from My Eighth Grade Self

I did that thing today where I stopped writing in frustration and decided I’d chosen the wrong profession. I’m fairly certain every writer goes through it, but I had extra qualms today when I thought about how much writing I actually did in my formative years. Yes, I was on the yearbook staff in high school, but that’s about it. No literary magazine, no newspaper, no file full of short stories and poems; in fact not much creative writing to speak of. I tried to have a Journalism minor in college, but hated the three courses I took in that department and quickly dropped the minor; ironically opting for pre-law only to later give up my free-ride to law school in order to write.

So here I sit during week two of November and I’m contemplating my choice of profession as well as why I’ve decided to do NaNoWriMo this year. In a moment of pure brilliance I went downstairs to stare at my bookshelves for inspiration. I’m not sure why – reading isn’t the same as writing. I can’t imagine being a writer without being a lover of books, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive. What I found while staring at the bookshelves was a journal. In fact, not just one – I counted 30 journals. I do vaguely remember journaling as a child – keeping a diary under lock and key to keep it away from my imaginary little brother I guess. Since I keep them all on a shelf now, I must trust my real husband more than my imaginary little brother. I pulled a few journals down in an attempt to discover the writer-in-my-early-years. I assumed most of those journals would be empty because I remember leaving a lot of journaling undone. I expected gaps of months (much like this blog) or even years.

What I found was quite the opposite. Here’s my proof; here is my mind as a small child and adolescent always writing down observations, feelings and ideas. I have journals from elementary school, junior high and even high school. I have travel journals and S.A.M notebooks. Sure, not all of them were complete; sure, they weren’t full of made up tales, stories and teen-angst poetry – but they are still MY words.

The S.A.M. Notebook
What’s a S.A.M. you ask? S.A.M. is an acronym for Stacy, Amy and Mariah – we invented the acronym in the second or third grade and used it throughout school and beyond. How far beyond? Well Stacy’s eldest daughter is Samara or SAM for short (her youngest daughter’s name, Emily incorporates the first letter of all of our middle names as well).

Amy missed a lot of seventh grade – she was struck down with a severe case of mono and missed the last five months of the school year. She’s brilliant, so this didn’t really affect her learning curve or anything; we just missed having her around and in classes with us. Stacy and I started writing down our school experiences in a notebook and then we’d send it home with Amy’s homework assignments; she’d write down her illness experiences and send it back to us. The notebook stuck – even after Amy joined us again in the eighth grade. I think by this time we realized all three of us were heading down very different paths and may not have time to be friends in high school. I had band and synchro; Stacy had running and skiing; and Amy had theatre and all of those languages.
The three of us kept the notebook going throughout most of high school. Oh, the days before email, text messaging and facebook. So yes, I didn’t just want to write early on, I made my friends do it with me. I guess you can look at the notebook as practice for the type of fiction I find myself writing about now.

1990: One Year of Journaling
When I sat down with my stack of journals today, I pulled out the most complete one. The year was 1990 and I received the journal as a Christmas present from my mom (so says the title page – complete with full name, address and phone number). Most of the other journals and diaries I leafed through were only half full at best – but apparently in 1990 I had a lot to say. Now you may call this procrastination, but I still read through the entire journal. I found out the end of my eighth grade year and the beginning of my high school career was a transitional time indeed. By December of 1990 my writing voice had changed dramatically, I’d even started to use the right form of it’s and its – as well as there/their/they’re (thank goodness!).

My eighth grade self taught me some valuable lessons today. It appears I spent most every waking moment I could find writing down observations and character sketches. Like most early teen girls I obsessed about boys – gushed when the boy I had a crush on told me I was beautiful in front of his girlfriend. I spent pages describing band concerts and all of the subtle nuances involved in close circuit interaction without words that can only happen when you share a stage with someone; how you become a part of the whole – a well-oiled machine working on some higher, almost telepathic level. I jotted down notes about swimming – my jubilation at making varsity in eighth grade and my foul response to finding myself in the group routine with my nemesis. Did you know eighth graders had arch-enemies? I felt a little like Sherlock Holmes while reading that segment. There was some lovely (read: sappy) lyrical stuff in there about how music filled every aspect of my life (I’ve always been quite the Romantic) and lovelier (read: sappier) material about taking the stage during my last junior high band concert, including shared moments with a truly kindred spirit (don’t worry, we’re facebook friends now) and my first summer 6 – 10 marching band practice. So many transitions!

Lesson Learned
I get it already: I’ve always been a writer. I spent years writing about awkward social interactions – no wonder I write YA in my adult life. My main characters tend to be eighteen & nineteen year-old girls transitioning between childhood and adulthood; apparently the transitional years affected me the most. I used to write about music and now I can’t write unless there is music. As an adult I’m so very different than my eighth grade self. I have different concerns – I hadn’t gone through those really life changing stages of my life yet – but I’m still so similar.

This is why I NaNo every year. It really is more than just 50,000 words; it’s a soul-searching, truth confronting sort of month – a transition all its own. Don’t worry about my novel word count: I’m currently at 12,245. What I’ve gained is a little more self-confidence and a long overdue chat with my eighth grade self. We had some things to sort out and some dreams to recreate. I’ve also gained a decent lesson plan for a journaling class at the Loft. I’ll have to type up a proposal and send it in. Hopefully some of you teenage students living in MN will be interested.

It’s November. What Else Would I Be Blogging About?

Yes, it could also be about the new Harry Potter movie coming out, but it's not. Maybe next time.

I’ve been in a writing slump for a few months – as you can probably tell from the lack of blog posts. It’s November, and I usually participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo); this year I decided not to. I was even OK with this decision through all of August, September and most of the month of October. I’ve been finishing up a second draft of my current novel and writing blog posts (not publishing mind you, just writing them) sporadically when a decent topic reveals itself. As the second week of October hit, I stopped writing altogether. No words, nothing, nada. If you are my facebook friend, you may have noticed those short little status updates appearing more and more on my page. It’s like that’s all of the energy I was willing to divest in writing. I think this goes beyond my lazy self into new and unchartered territory. I’m not sure what’s up with me. Writing is still what I want to do and when I sit down at a computer I loose myself in words completely. But my voice has been missing for quite some time and everything turns out lackluster and boring.

A couple of weeks ago I did some freelance work. I’ve decided that being a freelance writer means you are perfectly willing to freelance anything-with-words-as-long-as-it-pays. This means I will proof your novel, mark your paper, SEO-itize your website, train your trainer, or write an article. So while I did this freelance work, I found a word that wasn’t an actual word. It may be a word one day like frenemy or unfriend, but for right now it’s simply not. I loved this non-word and kept thinking about it. I went for a walk a week later, and the non-word popped into my head again. Only this time I was listening to my iPod and Lady Gaga (Alas, I’m becoming quite obsessed recently) was playing. Walking, thinking, listening to music – this is where the best book ideas come from; isn’t it? Two miles later I had my main character and a general outline worked out in my head. I spent three hours on the computer working out the basics and getting some rough ideas down.

And that’s it really. That’s what NaNoWriMo IS. It’s a ridiculous goal – 50,000 words in 30 days. When I’m done it won’t be good. I’ll dump at least half of those words and a handful of characters, but I’ll have words on paper again. Some of those words are bound to stick; at this point I’m just looking for my voice. I do realize it’s not a panacea – writing a novel in one month won’t cure all of my writing issues. Hopefully it is a step in the right direction though. Heck, I may even start blogging again…

Wish me luck and if you too are participating in NaNoWriMo, I wish you words – lots and lots of words.

What Do You Think of Fireflies?

I’m curious. What do other people think of the group Owl City and their song “Fireflies”? You can tell me what you think about any of their songs, but I’m particularly intrigued with this one. It keeps popping up everywhere. Usually when this happens, I hate the song with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns.

For instance…Madonna’s “Frozen” still makes me shutter. It followed me around for about two years in the late 90s, culminating in Mariah actually screaming at some poor guy on the city bus because he started singing it while sitting next to me without prompt of a Discman, (late 90s was very pre-mp3 player in my universe) radio, or any other music-aide I could see. Moral of the story: If you’re going to go all crazy and yell at someone for no good reason you should do so on a city bus – the rest of the trip was quite peaceful; no one else bothered me at all that day.

But “Fireflies” is different and I’m not quite sure why...
- The words make no sense. It’s like a hodge-podge of random stream of consciousness.

- I’m not sure why I’d like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly, or why fireflies would leave teardrops, or why lightning bugs are hugging me or teaching me how to dance (dancing + Mariah = dying duck in a thunderstorm after all).

- Anyone can sing anything to this tune and sound like they are professional musicians. I mean that’s like magic more than a song, isn’t it?

- The song has gone viral in a major way. On YouTube alone, there’s a fan version of “Fireflies” for pretty much any TV show ever invented.

- Not ONLY can anyone sing the song and sound good but your creativity will be tested in new and intriguing ways. You can RANT about anything with “Fireflies”.

And here’s where I stop because I want to share some of these viral versions below. I was going to do a poll on which you think is the best, but since my followers are mostly here for HP Mondays. (Or HP-day-of-the-week-that-ends-in-Y-and-I-feel-like-posting…See. HP Monday is so much easier to say.) I have a feeling the poll would be biased. So here are a few of my favorites and yes I should have been writing instead of playing around on YouTube – but that’s what writing distractions are for.

The first one is the actual song – but the cartoon amuses me. And, if my British Husband reads this post, he will cringe and make me a prettier new version because he is such a wonderful artist and computer animator. (Alas, he tends not to read my blog posts and therefore misses out on some of my accolades.)

Next follows the Hermione/Ron HP version (Thank you Mara Corey for sending me this one) and is performed by that girl in the Parselmouths who also did that great NaNoWriMo song.

Then a geek fan version of Doctor Who but seriously the nanogenes totally look like fireflies

Finally, I couldn’t resist this brilliant IKEA one…I shop there and so I understand. Plus, arrows are just plain wrong.

Thanks for reading another faulty logic rant.

HP Monday – More fire, this time in a cup!

For those of you keeping up – Yes, I did finish my NaNo novel – or at least made it to 50,399 words, officially. It’s still not done, but hopefully I’ll have a completed first draft by mid December!

Alright, back to Harry Potter. You've all been waiting long enough. I’ve almost officially gotten over my crush on book and movie 3 and feel that I can turn my attentions towards the next, thicker novel. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire weighs in at 2 lbs and 636 pages (UK version) – that is SO many more words than 50, 399!

Honestly I just keep thinking about all of the fire imagery in HP – and I don’t even know what it all means or why I’m so fixated on it. But here we are in book # 4 and fire is even in the title! There are fire breathing dragons and a goblet of fire, joyous fires, fires in the sky, and a ceremonial fire of pure evil. There’s also the fiery red hair of the Weasleys, Fawkes – a bird born of fire, the firebolt, Rita Skeeter’s scorching quill, and a lot more I’m not thinking of, I'm sure.

So what’s with all the fire? Anyone? I know, I know, I’ve already blogged about fire in book 2, but it just keeps coming back. It’s one of the elements – which would be important in any wizarding world; but I know there is so much more. Hmmm…Fire symbolizes chaos and war but it also cleanses and purifies. It banishes the darkness and stands for love and undying desire. It can also stand for determination and independence. It’s always a very strong image and one that is not used lightly. I’m going to have to ponder fire (and write the word in bold) a lot more during this re-read.

Feel free to pick another element here; I’m sure there’s plenty of elemental symbolism to go around – I also like the use of water in book #4 a good deal (and even more in book #6).

Anyone have any general thoughts on book 4? I have to say I REALLY enjoyed it on this re-read; there’s a lot of growing and discovering in this one. And poor Ron – he’s really confused about a lot of things in this one – albeit, most of the time I just wanted to punch him in the face. Yes, I said it. I wanted to punch a literary character – and one of the good guys – in the face. If you are shocked by that, just wait until book #5 when I seriously want to do great bodily damage to Harry – arghhh, teenage angst rears its ugly head big time and I just see red (fire even?).

But I digress. I think we also need to talk about budding romance and love – because this is the first time we really see it occurring at Hogwarts. I’m a girl who spent six years of her adult life writing about beauty trends, so I love the Christmas ball a lot - clothes, hair, accessories, twirling - there's not bad here. Plus – and here I go again – nothing beats dance imagery! From a writer’s perspective I think this book would be the most fun and entertaining to write – you know, until the end when we suddenly all get really serious, very quickly.

So, talk about all of this already! What are you all waiting for? And, I’d also like to know if this is anyone’s favorite book? If so, then why? Oh come on, you knew I was going to ask…

Week 4 – The end is in sight - but really confusing, and may actually be the beginning.

This week I drew (don’t laugh) a blueprint of SuperMug – the big box store my novel mostly takes place in. I even showed it to my husband – the artist – who tried really hard not to laugh at my lame attempt at a straight line. But it helped – my writing, not my budding career as an architect. The visual picture of where and how each character interacts with others and their surroundings spurred me onto another 2000 words in no time flat. Of course I still have about 15,000 words to go in 6 days – but that’s actually really doable. Right? Yes, totally doable.

I noticed during week 3 and this part of week 4 (I’m including the last three days – or week 5 – into this final week stretch) how many ups and downs this action packed week has taken. The words between 25,000 and 40,000 are the most rewarding and hard-to-get words there are...EVER. I can’t wait to hit 40,000 when suddenly the last 10,000 words will slip out of my subconscious and find themselves on my computer screen without me actually doing anything. Fine, that’s never going to happen, but it has to be easier than 30,000 to 40,000 words – it just has to be.

I know it sounds like I’ve jumped off the deep end. I sure have spent a lot of time cyber-stalking high school classmates (see previous blog post for the non-crazy definition of that sentence). I’ve also spent the week reading and watching this season of HIMYM on-line; I washed 6 loads of clothes this week and spent about an hour going through recipes for the infamous Thanksgiving Day breakfast. You see, I’m married to an Englishman who is fairly lukewarm about this American holiday – he’s going to make a pizza with all of the ingredients you find in a traditional mid-western turkey day meal and we’ll choose some random movie marathon to watch (after the national dog show – Hell, you have to have at least one tradition and I choose you John O’Hurley, you and the Irish Wolfhound presenting tomorrow). Every year I get up and make a breakfast – something like scones or waffles or crumpets or french toast – something revolving around bread apparently, and we hide from the rest of the world. But really all I’m going to do all day is tuck away into the bedroom and write. I’m really good at cranking out like 5,000 words on T-day, ignoring all things food, football, balloon and thankful – all for my extremely unthankful novel.

Tomorrow it ends; all the procrastination of November boils down to MY day of writing with abandonment – and for that I AM thankful.

And it’s not too late for you either. I don’t care if you have 4, 083 or 16,000 or 42,000 there is still hope and a novel in each of you. Eat your turkey, visit with your family and then go type like you’ve never typed before…don’t even get me started on Black Friday – I forbid anyone who reads my blog to go shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. Don’t fall for the marketing ploy – you can shop again. Promise.

If you aren’t reading this state side, and you think that my turkey rant was a little bit scary, then you are probably Jeff and somewhere in Australia reading this. On the other side of the world you have one less day to type, so keep writing already! Here’s hoping every NaNoer reading this has pure adrenaline; enough to make it to the writing finish line!

For the rest of you patiently waiting for HP Mondays to start up again, I will try to write something for this Monday. Monday is still November, so I might be desperately trying to get to 50, 000, watching my fingers bleed over my keyboard and screaming any lyrics of Bon Jovi I can think of; in that case you’ll get a Harry Potter blog post on Tuesday. That would be book 4 for those who’ve forgotten. Go, go Goblet of Fire!

Speaking of Harry Potter, one of the things I read this week was a short story/novella by Maureen Johnson called “The Jubilee Express” inside the collection Let It Snow. That little British wizard is just everywhere:

Debbie had to get up and slice me a thick piece of cake before she could answer. And I do mean thick. Harry Potter volume seven thick. I could have knocked out a burglar with this piece of cake. Once I tasted it, though, it seemed just the right size. Debbie didn’t fool around when it came to the butter and sugar.

Here’s hoping your slice of pumpkin pie tomorrow is Harry Potter volume five thick!

Ramblings from a Sleep Deprived Writer

Or, how I’m really not writing my novel right now, but still pretending I am…

I’ve written myself into this very strange place. I’m not sure how I got here or how I’ll get out, but I’m here right now and I feel I must continue on. I think it would be easier if I’d written Tea – my protagonist – into the corner, but it turns out it’s actually me. No, I’m not my protagonist; but I am the writer and have borrowed from my past – and present – for this novel. It took me about 8,000 words before I had to borrow from my past (although in retrospect, I did it in the first 1,000 without realizing it).

Tea is 17 and the novel takes place the summer between her junior and senior year of high school. Alas, I don’t really remember high school that much. Not that anything bad happened to me there; in fact I’m pretty sure I enjoyed it, but apparently I’m older than the hills or something and high school memories are fading fast – almost as fast as that cliché.

This is what I do when I get stuck in my story and need some younger-than-my-current-age interaction and dialogue. I write down a memory from when I WAS that age and then go back and re-write it to show what’s happening – instead of just telling it. I add dialogue and descriptions and honestly make up a lot of the stuff that probably never really happened; because that’s what writers do after all. And then once it is all done I can usually pick right up in my story, maybe using a line, description or small idea from my recent, made up memory and plug it into the action. So far, this scenario has been working out well. It means I don’t stop writing when I’m stuck and I can use some of the overlooked memories for later characters and novels.

There is a side effect as well, the more I write about the experiences I had in high school, the more I remember them. Entire conversations come flooding back into almost perfect clarity – things I wore, things I thought, things I never told people. It’s honestly bizarre, especially reliving these escapades from my adult view point – which has changed quite a bit since high school. I’ve thought about people I haven’t thought about in…I’m counting on my fingers, hold on…15 years or so. When did I get so old?

The problem: Here I sit, writing away, on my own personal journey, forgetting all about Tea and her teammates trying to solve a murder in their grocery store, those poor people. They haven’t figured out who the real killer is which means John is rotting away in jail after confessing to a crime he didn’t commit…all while I’m worried about who I’ve forgotten from high school. I know I’m making this sound like high school doesn’t matter – which is silly because the large majority of my readers ARE high school students or teachers – but I have a point about high school, I promise.

About halfway through one such writing exercise I remembered someone I haven’t thought about in years. Someone who IS very similar to one of the characters in my story – apparently I’ve subconsciously written in a friend from high school. Then I realized I never thought of him as a friend when we were in high school, but I think of him that way now. Not because I talk to him now (as far as I know, we haven’t talked since the late ‘90s) and our relationship is that much stronger, but because we actually WERE friends in high school. Just by remembering all of the time we spent together, all of the things we shared, and some of the conversations we had, my adult self realizes we were fairly close for a time.

I don’t really keep in touch with many friends from high school – the ones I actually realized before today were friends I mean – oh, many of them are now facebook friends, but that doesn’t really count, does it? Anyway, most of these people friended me (and if any of you are reading this, I’m glad you did). If you know me at all you know my two closest friends have been my closest friends since the second grade, making today’s writing epiphany a little odd. Here is another paradox – I don’t necessarily consider those two friends high school friends – Amy, Stacy and I transcend all of that somehow. Sure we knew each other in high school but we each did our own thing – some of our friends overlapped and we spent a ton of time together outside of school – but that’s never been who we are.

I thought about this guy – who I now realize was a friend in high school – and I suddenly wanted to know what he was doing now, as an adult. I wanted to see what adulthood had changed or nurtured in him. If, like me, looking back on his high school experience illuminated some part of his adult character: Is high school a time to remember and learn from, or do we all just start to forget about it after our mid twenties? Of course it didn’t just stop with one person. I’d just finished writing out a memory involving four people by name, am I in contact with any of those people now? No, I’m not. So what are they all doing? I guess this is why classmates.com exists – possibly even twitter – don’t hold your breath, I’m not joining either of those social networks anytime soon. Twitter is just a bad Doctor Who episode waiting to happen!

I did some digging on my preferred social networks and found out a lot of interesting stuff in under an hour. This is both cool and creepy (see previous Dr Who comment). I’m not sure I want someone sitting around wondering about me and then finding out everything they need to know just by clicking a button. Obviously I must be OK with it to a point or I wouldn’t have a blog, but still! See how I’ve not only written myself into a corner but I’ve completely stopped working on my novel today.

And what did I discover in the end? I told you I had a point, way to keep reading. I’m not really sure if this is a big reveal or not, but I discovered I like writing YA and mid-grade because I DO think it matters. I’m hoping kids and students will get something out of their current situations, maybe get a leg up on where I was at your age; and I’m hoping adults will remember something meaningful they’ve forgotten from their childhood or teen years. Maybe we all have a forgotten friend or teacher who helped shape our adult selves and reading one of my books will plant a seed in your subconscious; a seed I hope grows into a beautiful memory.

Or, if you aren’t as sappy as I am, then here’s some startling facts I learned in my hour of research on high school classmates – maybe this will inspire you.

Startling facts about people Mariah went to high school with:

• At least 12 are now teachers – two in our old high school.


• At least 8 were, or still are, professional athletes or college/pro coaches (this is utterly ridiculous, apparently I went to Jock High)


• At least 10 are in bands – from garage bands to Harry Connick Jr.’s orchestra and everywhere in between (I was in the marching band, so this number is probably higher – but I stopped counting at 10. I can go see at least 5 of these people in upcoming concerts; I’m on the fence about this).


• 8 are – or soon will be – medical doctors. With another 5 earning PhDs in some other field. (Some of these are married to each other – you are all making way too much money!)


• 1 is a magician.


• 1 is an actress in movies and television shows I’ve bet you’ve seen. She’s also a stage actress in NYC.


• 1 had his house torn down and rebuilt by the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition team – it was the season premiere house this season.


• 1 ran for the Mayor of Bloomington in the last election. It’s not a small town – alas, he did not win.


• 1 is working for some government agency or embassy (The fact that I found this out on-line means I hope she’s not a field agent and our national security is a little stronger that that).


• 1 is an Army Ranger (on-line did not tell me where he is stationed so a little more at ease about this whole national security thing).


• At least 2 others are published authors (one of those is published in Welsh, which is an entirely different language with lots of double letters, and therefore gets extra kudos from me. Way to go Chris!)


• 4 are social workers.


• 3 are pilots.


• 3 are currently trying to adopt (my fingers are crossed for you Morgan!).


• 5 are expats currently living abroad at least semi-permanently (Yes, this includes the guy published in Welsh. I think you have to live in Wales to understand the language, let alone write in it).


• At least 4 others have blogs (You guessed it; one of those blogs is at least partly in Welsh).


• 1 – ME – discovered if my husband and I do have any children they can be duo-citizens because he is a British expat living in the US (this makes me happy, but does not mean I will be having those babies any time soon – no breath holding again. And yes, I looked that up in the hour allotted as well!)


• 10 people married their high school sweethearts (Scary. I don’t remember that many people from high school, I can’t imagine finding marriage love there).


• 1 – ME again – just sheepishly realized that she a) really fell in love for the first time her senior year of high school and b) met her husband her senior year of high school and c) a & b are two different guys.


• At least 6 people are no longer with us (I’m sure this number is higher – social networking is not really a good tool for things like death, cancer and other life taking illnesses. We really try to be happy and upbeat while we network on the internet).


• I stopped counting marriages, divorces and babies – I’m guessing these match national statistics.
  
  

And that was just in an hour, imagine what three hours would produce! I’m done with my ramblings, I’m going back to write some more about Teagan and her SuperMug exploits. I’ll tell you what – her character arc just got a whole lot bigger!

Week Three – Hitting My Stride

You’ll be happy to know my characters have decided not to be so flat anymore. They had some very interesting dialogue today and I even wrote out the murderer discovered scene. As I hit the 28,000 word count mark I went to the math and realized I might actually be able to get to 50,000 words by Nov. 30! Woo hoo! I work better under pressure, so I’ve also developed a head cold just for the extra obstacle’s sake. But still, if I crank out 2,000 words each day from here on out, I’ll make it. Now, I will still try really hard to type out more than 2,000 words in case some other obstacle rears its ugly head, but 2,000 a day is totally do-able!

This past weekend I attended a mystery thriller conference/ writing festival with friend and fellow nanoer, Matt. You can just make up a whole ton of words with nano as the pre-fix, I’m not sure how much each word actually weighs, but I promise at the end there is a ton. It was nice having someone I knew there while I kept learning – or not learning –things. Talking through everything in between our break-out sessions was more helpful than I realized at the time. We had different breakout sessions, so that was like a two for one deal really; each sharing with the other what we learned in our separate sessions. And, even though I can’t believe I’m saying this, it was nice to take a whole day away from my novel writing – and such a pivotal day: The half way mark/end of week 2, beginning of week 3.

Since I had a current nanonovel (See!) in mind, I used it all weekend as we did little exercises to give our writing some momentum. In the end, I was just really excited to get back to writing it, I couldn’t wait to dive in and use some of the new techniques I’d just learned – some I already knew, but the refresher course was nice. Well, the words are just flying now and like I said – my characters are going places again. They are having complex thoughts even.

In one of my sessions this weekend we discussed knowing more about your characters than you can ever put down in your novel to make each of them multi-layered, and really just more interesting to both writer and reader. We took about five minutes to write out the items currently in our MCs garbage can, trying to involve a couple different senses in the list. I was surprised to discover that my character, Teagan “Tea” O’Meara had a bunch of junk mail envelopes in her trash. Just the envelopes and not the contents, because she collects the families junk mail (she is the youngest sibling, with three older brothers – all currently at home for one reason or another) and mails it all back in the return envelopes. Realizing the companies only pay the postage if the envelopes get mailed back, she’s trying to be as annoying as they are. Her trash even contained some spirals off a notebook, because she sometimes mails blank paper and cardboard back in the envelopes to make them weigh more. This is probably not something I will ever add to my book, put it is nice to know that Tea is resourceful, vindictive and a little bit of a mother hen even though she’s the youngest. It actually helped me understand why, at 17, she’s so willing to get involved in a murder investigation at her place of employment, and that I CAN use in my novel.

So what’s inside your characters trash can? Do they recycle, do they not but try to hide it. Is their trash can empty and spotless, has everything landed on the floor around the bin? Is it overflowing, full of torn up photos? Is it sticky, smelly, or infested? What is your character trying to tell you by letting you see their trash?

XI. Thou shalt not self-censor at all during the first draft.
This draft is yours for the adventure of finding out what you think. Future drafts will be for others. Hold off your critical self until those future drafts.
- Gillian Roberts’ You Can Write a Mystery

Week three: things are already brighter, but there is still so much to get done in the two weeks left. Happy nanoing all!

Week Two Blues

When you write 50,000 words in one month you really throw all caution to the wind. It’s like writing in concentrated form and like living in a concentrated form. Everything happens so fast, you don’t really have time to think about it – it’s writing for writings sake. I’m not explaining it right. I keep trying to, but I think you actually may need to go through such an extreme deadline yourself to get the idea.

Yes, I still love the experience, but week two really…well, sucks! I’m full of self doubt, my wonderful amazing characters appear to be flat and stunted in their growth. Their dialogue is wooden and forced, their conflict and situations are mundane – no one else (even me) cares what they are doing or what happens to them. It’s all quite tragic and I’m ready to throw my computer out the window – or beat it with a baseball bat. Dear Computer, I’m not serious. Please don’t blow up on me, delete all of my words without saving, or give me the blue screen of death. You are a wonderful machine and I will buy you a new jump drive when this month is over. Whew, crisis averted.

Like Anne Shirley I’m in the depths of despair. When I was in college I spent a semester in London studying literature and theatre. Before we left for Europe, I went to a meeting to meet my fellow study abroad students, learn tips about living in a different country, talk about what to pack and what not to pack – all that wonderful informational stuff. What I remember most about that meeting was a professor giving a lecture on culture shock – it came complete with a handout I’m sure I still have somewhere. She told us how we would all be excited, then sad, we’d go through a few weeks of hating the place and just wanting to be home, then we’d find our way, learn some stuff, have a blast and by the time we were ready to go home, we wouldn’t want to. Then remarkably, once we got home, we’d go through the whole thing again.

I remember thinking this is ridiculous – surely England isn’t that different from Minnesota – we speak the same language, celebrate most of the same holidays, and ironically are based on the same religions. London is bigger (a lot) than Minneapolis, but they are both large cities and thriving metropolises (I hope that’s a word) right? Also, who wants to group every single student into one statistic like that? Surely my experiences could be different than Jen or Andy on my same trip. And Ben and Theresa who went to Spain; their experiences had to be different still. So I went to London with this in mind, I was bound and determined to have nothing but a good time and see similarities between the two cities and the two countries. I still don’t know if this was the right or wrong attitude to go into living four months in another place with, but that was my goal.

Looking back on those four months and reading some of the things I wrote in my journal I think the truth was somewhere in between – and tween was definitely the theme of my life in London, but that’s another blog – and I can’t say I’d do it any differently if I could do it again. I had my own experiences and saw many similarities, some of which others never saw. I made sure to live in the moment, realizing while they were happening how lucky I was to experience them and mostly keeping up on my journaling so I would never forget. I also spent three entire days inside my flat watching American TV and crying because I wanted to be at home. And when I got home? Well, I spent three hours on the phone with a friend on the trip trying to figure out how we were going to live in Minnesota anymore, secretly planning our next trip to Europe.

I guess what I’m saying, If I lived in London four months of every year like I write a novel one month of every year, I’m not entirely sure I’d do it any differently. Not that I can’t learn from my mistakes; absolutely I can and do. I didn’t finish my novel the first year of Nano because I had no ending, I didn’t know where the story would get to. The next year I had an ending, in fact I wrote it out first, reaching my word count goal and winning.

But right now week two is kicking me hard. It is the point in my culture shock scenario where I sit in my flat for three days crying and wondering why I’m here in this stupid place at all. What’s keeping me sane is week three and four where I change completely and my novel becomes a masterpiece – it won’t stay that way on the re-read, but on November 30th when I reach my word count goal and submit the entire thing to the word-count gods, I will for that brief moment think it’s the best thing I’ve ever written. Then I’ll wake up on December first and wonder how I’m going to continue in the real world without writing at least 2,000 words a day and talking to my writing buddies about the slangs and arrows of writing a novel in one month.

Why do I do it? Well, like studying abroad, because it stretches who I am, remolds me into something else – something better. If you like this blog or these words than realize that a good part of who I am and how I write is because I once spent four months studying literature and theatre in London and also because every year I take on this ridiculous and rewarding task of writing for writings sake. You really do have to go through the journey to get to the end.

Here’s to week two, at the end of it will be week three and I really want to get to week three. Happy writing!

Writing with a Ridiculous Goal

50,000 words in one month – that’s the goal and the anticipation of every November if you are one of the participants of NaNoWriMo each year. For me it’s a roller coaster ride of long nights, crappy food and song lyrics. And every year without fail when I sit down to type out those first words of a new novel on the first day of November…I cry. Literally cry. I mean I don’t think my writing is that good…or bad to deserve tears, but unlike the rest of the year when I’m writing, November isn’t about marketing me, selling my words or researching a darn thing. November is all about the art of writing words. And it is one of the many times I realize: Oh yeah, I really love doing this.

So for someone who has chosen writing as a fulltime profession, what is the difference in November? I mean why don’t I cry every time I sit down at my computer to type out words? I wish I had an answer for you, and maybe I will spend part of this month trying to figure that out. Can we just start with the fact that I have a word deadline, yet I still want to write more and blog about this experience! Seriously, I should be writing nano-words here, I’m behind. Well, I’m always behind until the end when I spend the last two days of November growling at loved ones and crying for entirely different, word count related reasons. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Huh, I guess I think the experience of NaNoWriMo has something to do with the collective masses around the world participating in this crazy – and yes, ridiculous – endeavor. I mean I have writing buddies from around the world (Hi writing buddies, each and every one of you is an inspiration!), plus you can just see the wheels turning as the communal daily word count goes up and up and up. So many people, so many novels, SO MANY WORDS…

It is really rather brilliant. Because even if half the words get deleted, thrown away or forgotten after November is over, you still have a lot words that survive. In the years to come those words grow and develop into teaching words, living and breathing words, words to live by and words to die by. The world can be changed by words; it can be manipulated and influenced by words. And for one month a year I get to see it all in action, be part of the shared word spewing, hoping that some of my words stick and become more.

Now that I’ve said too much and written too many non-nano-words, it is time to get back to work. Happy nanowing to all participants – I hope some of your words stick too!

Now stop reading this and get back to work already. If you aren’t participating in National Novel Writing Month, I hope you forgive this month of crazy blogs and enjoy my ramblings for their own merit. Who knows, you may even catch a glimpse inside a world you never knew existed before.

Oh yeah, before I go. Here is another Writing Commandment from that book I mentioned in my last blog:

II. Thou shalt begin and keep going till you’re through.
All beginnings are hard. The beginning of a novel is the hardest part to write. The beginning of each chapter is hard. The beginning of each day’s work is hard. Knowing that, grit your teeth and get past those beginnings. Then finish the book. Nothing’s more discouraging than an unfinished piece of work. Writing is rewriting. Let that give you confidence as you stumble along—you can and will make it better after you finish a draft.
- Gillian Roberts’ You Can Write a Mystery

HP THURSDAY – What Dementors Mean to Me

This week I made a library run for some reference material to use during November (National Novel Writing Month – aka: NaNoWriMo). I’m branching out this year, from my usual YA urban fantasy routine and adding in a bit of the Mystery genre. One of the books I checked out is by Gillian Roberts. In the book, Roberts lists her 15 Commandments for writers who want to get published (she states, “Writing commandments on a computer is much easier than carving them in stone, so I’ve listed half again as many”). All 15 are amazing, and I just may start putting one in each blog I post, but number 15 gave me an AH-HAH! moment that sent chills down my spine in regards to JK Rowling and specifically book #3.

Here’s the commandment in full:
XV. Thou shalt not believe in writer’s block.
Under all the words and mystique spun around it, writer’s block is old-fashioned fear: fear of yourself, of others’ opinions, of not being good enough or new enough or clever enough. Fear of the critical voice of parents, lovers, teachers or the neighbor who thinks you should spend your free time mowing the lawn. Fear of exposing your secret self and finding it unworthy. Fear, as the man said, of fear itself.
What’s to be done about it? See commandment XIII, on writing as an act of courage. Acknowledge that writing makes you vulnerable. No matter that your firsthand experience of murder is nil; that you in no way resemble your protagonist, villain or victim; and that you’ve never lived in Ancient Crete, where your mystery is set. Even so, your values, which are your real self, are going public via your work, and self-exposure is daring and frightening.
But if you can free yourself to understand that you are complexly human—and so are your readers—and if you put that honest revelation on paper, you’ll have a heady, liberating and exhilarating adventure.
That said, you’re ready for the trip—ready to apply your rear to a chair, stare down your devils and make words happen until you have a mystery. And ready to enjoy yourself in the process!
- Gillian Roberts’ You Can Write a Mystery

And she’s right – I hate writer’s block – AND writing is scary stuff. Opening yourself up to the critique of others is one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done. Yet, I do it every week in this blog; and every time I hit the send button to publish my post I get a heavy sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, followed quickly by a thrilling heart-rising-into-my-throat exhilaration. Who knew writing was a mad-cap roller coaster ride!

But, back to my epiphany: Alas, it is more about Rowling and the writer’s POV than the book; although that in itself pertains to the book. Yes, I’ve confused myself too. Anyway, when I read that first part about writer’s block being fear of fear itself and knowing – from first hand experience – just how soul-sucking writer’s block can be. And, if you let writer’s block get to you enough and you loose your ability to write, finish the chapter, finish the book, whatever; as a writer you’ve lost your soul completely and life becomes an empty shell of existence. Hey, is this ringing any bells yet?! Yep, I really think Rowling took that fear and created the dementors. They ARE writer’s block. Harry’s fear of the dementors is Rowling’s fear of not completing her novel, or her series. Not seeing these characters meet their end.

Well that’s my take and I’m sticking with it.

What do the dementors mean to you? Agree to disagree if you’d like – because the beautiful thing about writing is the critique and interpretation from readers. Seriously, I know I just told you I was afraid of it, but the roller-coaster ride part of writing, means I crave it as well. I (as many writers do) need to know what the reader is getting out of my story. And sometimes we miss something that we put in there. I remember learning about all of the subplots and code in a good story in school – everything means something and we all started seeing JC characters in every single little thing we read. And at some point I remember thinking – it’s just a story about an old guy and a fish [insert Old Man and the Sea OR Moby Dick here]; why can’t it be just about and old guy and a fish? Now I realize a writer – whether they are willing to admit it or not – brings their own baggage to everything they write; whether they realize it or not. Guess what: Readers do too! So yes, I think whether Rowling realized it or not – she’s writing about writer’s block on some level. And I – as a reader who also writes – sees this and am afraid. I fear…well fear, like Harry and want to see him overcome it. Heck, I want to overcome it myself.

And that ladies and gentlemen is why I love this book so much. Every read brings me closer to these characters, this author and myself. Wow, how is that for an epiphany?

And now, before we plunge ahead into book 4, HP Mondays is taking a hiatus in November. I promise to blog weekly on my NaNoWriMo trials and tribulations and give everyone and updated word count; but I know I won’t have the extra time to give book 4 (or this blog) my full attention next month. Feel free to keep replying to the posts on book 3 – I think there is a lot of discussion that hasn’t been done. I will read and comment as I see fit.

Also, if you are participating in NaNoWriMo you are more than welcome to be my writing buddy – my user name on the site is Miranda. If you don’t know what in the heck I’m talking about then go to http://www.nanowrimo.org/ for further details. Also, feel free to read upcoming blogs here.

I promise to resume HP Mondays the first week in December with book #4.