Sick of Being Sick and End of the Tunnel Lights

Yep. I gots it. The head/throat nastiness that's going around. I sound like a chain smoker headed for a double lungostomy. Is that a word? I don't care. The fever is getting to me, I think, but that's all part of the fun. There's always light at the end of the tunnel, one way or another.

Just started (and finished) what my sisters and I call a "popcorn" book: a novel that can be read in one day (paperback 250-350 pp). I'm not a speed reader, but you put me in a chair and give me something I love to read with characters I love to read about and I can plow through it like an ox in a New York china store. I even shouted a couple of times. It was pretty awesome. Swordfights. Plot twists. (Man, she put the HAMMER down in this one!) Angst. Ancient legends. True love. Miracles...wait, that's another story, but anyway. It had EVERYTHING.

I want to write like that. I want my characters and plots to suck people in like a black hole and never let them go and leave them at the end breathless and lustful for more. I SO want the next book in the series and I know it won't be out for another few years. ARGACK! (This is my new frustration word. I made it up. I like it. It even sounds good aloud!)

One of the best pieces of advice I keep forgetting is that to write good stuff, you have to read good stuff. I have so little free time these days, my stack of "wanna read this" has reached taller-than-me proportions. That's pretty tall. And I have this terrible addiction to books in the sense that when I start one, that's all I want to do. It's like eating the first piece of chocolate cake and not being able to quit eating until it's ALL GONE even if it makes you sick. In this case, it makes me unable to keep a full-time job, get laundry done, live my life, etc. I've never been able to find a balance. So far. I'm still alive, right? I still have time to revise that nasty little quirk.

Speaking of revision, since this is NaNoWriMo, I've dedicated my free time to finishing Emily's story, Shadow of Redemption. In the process, though, I've decided I also need to work on Daniel's story, Shifting Perspectives so I can better flesh out what's happening behind Emily's back. If I do this right, at the end of the month I'll have TWO books, one of them (mostly) finished, the other as a first draft ready for edits. Pretty cool.

So as I close, I realize I'm starting to get cold and hungry. A good sign the fever is breaking and I'm probably going to have to go to work tomorrow. :-( Well, at least I have my lesson already prepared. And maybe I can slip in a few chapters of some book without interfering TOO much with my job. Maybe. (maybe). *grin*

Crossroads, Foggy Swamps, and Cliffs of Insanity

In my first novel, the one that will probably be published AFTER my current work, (if at all) the main character, Brahms, tells his young protege, Eriq, "Choices make the man." In the context, Eriq is struggling with the fact that his background predisposes him to a life of using his magical abilities to hurt other people. Brahms, the eternal optimist, is trying to convince Eriq that the boy still has the ability to turn his life around through his own free will, even though he's made mistakes in the past.

Sometimes in life we feel we don't have choices. We always have choices. The problem is, we don't want to accept the consequences. Our choices define who we are and how we are perceived by others. It's an awful responsibility when you think about it. As much as we want to say, "I don't care what anyone thinks!" deep down we still want the love and approval of others. If our choices hurt them, even if those choices are "for their own good," then someone is going to be disappointed.

In writing, we have to choose carefully for our characters. What do they look like? What do they sound like? What are their quirks? What are their strengths? Weaknesses?

And beyond those bits of trivia are the choices THEY must make. Do we send them to the crossroads where they have clear choices and clear consequences (presumably!) ahead? Do we send them to the foggy swamps where they have no idea what they will face but they know they have to slog through and tackle whatever pops up out of the mire? Or do we plop them at the bottom of a huge cliff and insist they try to climb to the top before the evil mastermind cuts the rope?

What is the BEST choice?

Sometimes as a writer, that question haunts me. I write and re-write a scene and I can't figure out what is the BEST choice. Then I realize...remember, actually...that sometimes there ISN'T a best choice. Sometimes you just have to MAKE a choice and stick with it. That, my friends, is so hard to do at times. You doubt yourself. You doubt your writing. You doubt your choice. But you can't let the choice keep you from the writing.

Wow. Am I preaching to myself today or what?

So, a little teary-eyed from a self-revelation, I'm going to post, go back to my poor story that's been hanging in the cybercloud for some time and make some choices.

Go make your own. But remember, there are always consequences. ;-)

Living on the Edge: She Didn't Fall? Inconceivable!

When you look up "motivational posters" in Google images you get a lot of quotes including phrases like, "push yourself to the edge," and, "you don't know where the edge is until you get there," and such. This can be good advice for those who take advice as it should be taken: in moderation and in consideration of one's (honest) limitations. However, if you have a death wish, step right on out there to the mossy, wet, sloped surface and plummet to your death if you want to. Be my guest.

But we readers have this habit of losing interest in characters if they aren't pushed to the edge. (And honestly, writers lose interest in writing about them, too!) We want them right up there with the nose of danger breathing in their face. Why? Only trouble is interesting.

Perhaps that's why so many of us step out on limbs of our own. We want our lives to be interesting. Sometimes it gets too interesting. For example, I said "yes" to too many projects this year and had mental and physical repercussions because of my desire to please people. (Yeah, yeah. I know. Those of you who know me know I was mental already. I'm just more so now. ;-)

The trick to good writing is to take your characters TO the edge, but not beyond. Not unless you're doing parody or farce. This is a tricky balance. We've all read books, seen movies and TV shows that tried to be serious about all the horrible things that were happening to the characters when, instead, the readers/viewers were rolling in their chairs, laughing at all the ridiculousness. Taking yourself seriously when your audience thinks your material is funny is bad. Really bad. As in you've just lost readers/viewers and may not get them back for your next project.

Critique groups are a great way to gauge this phenomenon. It's difficult to see what others see in your writing, so why not take advantage of your literate friends and family who are willing to suffer through your stories and give you honest and helpful feedback?

So get your characters into trouble, but just enough. Take them right to the edge, but not over. And for goodness sake, never trust a Sicilian when death is on the line!

Social Contracts...Why I Now Hate Giraffes

SPOILER ALERT! If you haven't been hit by the Giraffe Riddle, it will be spoiled in this post, so you've been warned!

Different people have different ideas of what a social contract is. A lot of people don't know what I mean. Every day of our sentient lives, we've lived with them. Most of us cave into them. Abide by them. Propagate them. Enforce them to the nth degree. Even change our Facebook profile picture to a giraffe for three days because of a stupid riddle. Why? Because.

That's a stupid reason!

Oh, but we HAVE to. That's what keeps a society together: our social contracts. I won't bore you by quoting Socrates, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, or any of the other great philosophers on the subject, but there are several quite interesting theories on the subject:

One is that when you become an adult, if you wish to remain part of a society and if you wish society to continue its orderly peace, you must tacitly agree to abide by the rules, any rules, even if you don't agree with them. This is why Socrates suffered at the hands of the state rather than escape when he very well could have and possibly should have. Noble sacrifice!

One theory is that humans are, at heart, only self-interested and focused on advancing their own agendas. The best way to get that accomplished is to work together with other humans, therefore, we should make and keep social contracts with others. Honor among thieves as they say.

Yet another is that if the people are united under social contracts, they can take control of a governing body if that governing body isn't doing its job. Well...ahem...leaving that one alone. This blog is about revision and writing, not current day politics.

So, what does this have to do with giraffes? Well, there's a riddle going around that goes something like this: “It’s 3 a.m., the doorbell rings and you wake up. Unexpected visitors! It’s your parents and they are here for breakfast. You have strawberry jam, honey, wine, bread, and cheese. What is the first thing you open?”

Okay, so, the deal is if you answer correctly, great for you. You're a genius If you're wrong, for three days you change your profile picture to a giraffe. Why a giraffe? I don't know. Whoever started this thing must have a love (or hate) for giraffes.

There are actually TWO answers to this riddle: the RIGHT one and the one that's in the social contract being (wrongly) enforced on Facebook.

The correct answer is: the door. You let them in.

"No!" Your FB friend will tell you and throw in a few LOLs and winking smilies just to make you even angrier. "You open your EYES. Change your profile pic to a giraffe! Now!"

And without question, you do so. BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO for two reasons: One, "eyes" is the wrong answer and two, it's a social contract being wrongly enforced.

You see, in the riddle, it says, "...and you wake up." Your eyes are already open!

This is a really cool quirk of human nature that, if you can include it in your writing, will really make your characters "pop" off the page. Social contracts, wrong or otherwise, bind us into doing things we don't want to do but "should" do all the time: go visit our parents (well, I want to do this but I have exceptional parents), use breath fresheners, sit one to a table if we don't know people in a restaurant, don't look when people are putting on makeup or when children are misbehaving, make the bed (WHY? Please, someone explain that one to me!), not reveal the answer to stupid Facebook riddles in public (which I just did so HA!), etc. etc. The more you think about it, the more social contracts really do rule our lives.

Now I'm not saying you should go out and act like a crazy person breaking every custom and convention you've been raised with. That would be a little distressing. But sometimes your characters need to have a serious kick in the pants or talking-to about what they believe should be true in their little happy world of their minds. This could be the beginning of a great romantic relationship. Or novel. ;-)

Happy anti-contracting! (And no more giraffes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Help me I-70! You're my only hope!

A small business owner, a teacher, and a grad student walk into a...car to go to a writer's conference. (Almost had you there, didn't I?) Each had a complicated piece of technology, a general idea, and one even had printed maps to lead them to their destination. All of them had been there before. Two of them several times. How could things POSSIBLY go wrong?

The trip started off well enough that afternoon. No racing out of town from shadowy figures trying to kill them, no wracking their brains for a way to blow up the asteroid before Earth was sent into the next ice age. Just cruising at 70mph north hoping they hadn't forgotten to pack something vital, like deodorant or earrings.

They hit Big City #1 stop and stop and go rush hour traffic just in time to accelerate the arthritis in the driver's hands by two years, but it could have been worse. When she almost missed the exit lane because of backed-up traffic, a nice lady let them in and the guy behind didn't rear-end them when the driver stopped too quickly. Finally, they were safely on I-70 and off to their next destination: supper with Aunt L and Uncle B in (evil sounding music) Nemesis, MO.

You see, there's this town off of I-70 (which shall remain nameless, but if you know the area of which I speak, you'll know) that contains a black vortex that not only scrambles the signals of satellites to $200 tablet locator maps and $400 Garmin navigators, but scrambles the brains of otherwise intelligent people. Every region has one. So does every good horror movie.

So, since none of the navigation equipment was working, in order to GET to the restaurant, they had to pull out the questionable printed directions, backtrack, drive scary back roads, and fight impending car sickness. But they got there. An hour late. Not bad, but by then it was cold and raining.

The soup was good. The conversation was great. The soup was good. Was the soup mentioned? (Momma said if you don't have anything good to say....)

As the hour was late and the three travelers were tired and needed to get to their hotel in the conference city, they said their goodbyes and parted. Should have asked directions then....

What followed was a harrowing hour of  cold, dark, and rainy "Interstate exit pinball" where they thought they were going in the wrong direction, found an exit ramp/overpass to turn around, then promptly realized they were right in the first place and there were NO MORE EXITS FOR SIXTY ZILLION MORE MILES. No, Mexico was NOT their preferred destination.

Finally, after heading in the correct direction, they saw the sign for I-70, the light at the end of a long, dark, rainy tunnel. They sighed and relaxed and counted the minutes until they were snug in their warm hotel beds.

That's not the end of the story. It never is in a horror flick.

Arriving in Big City #2, location of the conference, they were greeted by heavy construction, lack of street lamps because of said construction, and hundreds of rabid football fans in monster trucks driving around like crazed teenagers. The poor paper map just couldn't convey the information the travelers needed and once again, our intrepid band got lost.

No Garmin. No map. No lights. Crazy drivers. Cold, wet, car sick, headaches, (and the driver's contacts were drying out), what were they to do?

"Hey, guys? Anyone have the number to the hotel?"

And thus Customer Service Cassie saved the day by providing the path to salvation and soon, our three travelers were happily ensconced in PJs and comforters.

What's the takeaway? Even when your characters have travels well planned out, stress, hunger, environment, and the unknown always play a factor in mucking things up. It's amazing how a person's brain DOESN'T work when we're focused on the wrong problem and not thinking out of the box. Use that in writing and your characters become more real.

Oh. And the name of the conference? "The Write Direction"

Kindness as the Bus Drives By: A Rant

One of the things I love about the running community in my town is its support of the individual efforts of its members. No matter how fast, no matter how slow, we all cheer, coach, encourage, and support each other during training.

When we get to the race, though, we all run our own race. It isn't dirty, It isn't cut throat. But best friends will run harder than they've ever run, other friends will bet to see who wins (this time), and the losers congratulate the winners and we all go out for pancakes afterward.

Granted, this kind of idealistic POV isn't true for every runner in my town. But it's true for the majority.

Okay, writers, what's the deal? Why can't we do this?

When I see writers ripping OTHER writers to shreds on reviews, on critiques, even (goodness!) in person, it makes my gut roil in disgust. Why? It doesn't sell your book any faster. It doesn't make you a better writer. It doesn't make the community see us as a legitimate professional organization. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Throwing others of our community under the bus only threatens to overturn the whole bus, YOU INCLUDED! It's hard enough to get things published as it is with all the negative press that "regular" people are throwing around. When we get the riot act from our own ranks, what does that say about our profession?

A little kindness never hurt anyone. A little extra time to help someone pays off in the end, even if it's only that good feeling that you're not a bully or a grammar nazi. Not everyone you meet is going to know "the basics." If they need, and are willing to accept, a little coaching, do so without criticizing the fact that, "You should have known that." Well, they didn't. So what. Does that make you a god?

The "competition" shouldn't start until the book is on the shelf, and even then, especially then, we should celebrate our competition's winnings. If you don't have anything good to say in a review, then keep your fingers off the keyboard. Your work should speak for itself by its good writing. If you have to rip someone to shreads to get readers to read your book, then it probably isn't written well, anyway.

I have two degrees in English, a certificate to teach English, ten years + of teaching experience in computers and communication arts (and the occasional math class) and I still find myself learning things I didn't know. And making mistakes along the way. Life is about making yourself a better person and making your little corner of the world a better place. So start doing so. And please, please, people: start treating each other with a little more respect.

This Post Sponsored by the Letter...Squirrel!

Above is a picture of the trophy our local Writers' chapter received for our April win at the state conference. Notice the chip in the small marble block at the top? Notice the chips around the hole in the center of the big block? Notice that the nut isn't holding any of it together? Let's just say that when my husband and I--he holding the cup and me holding the marble blocks--tried to put it back together, comments were exchanged that aren't publishable on a public channel and we were laughing so hard we had tears rolling off our cheeks. For those of you are still confused, let's just say, the thing wouldn't fit and shoving over and over just didn't get the job done. 'Nuff said.

I got my hair cut this week. Short. Very short. My husband says it will grow out. Everyone else says it's cute. My stylist didn't quite do what I wanted--it came out looking more like a mullet than layered curls--so that night I literally took a whack at it and, now, yes, it's very short. It will grow out. I look like a crazed Anime character when I get out bed in the morning.

My computers today at school kept displaying the boot-up icon of a particular program and the icon WOULD NOT GO AWAY. It displayed in FRONT of every other program we pulled up. So there's this 2" by 4" eyesore in the middle of the screens, the children are all, "What's happening? I can't see anything! Mrs. Cannon! Fix this!" I'm on the phone with the tech department (we have an AWESOME tech department and they did eventually fix it) when glory be, the FIRE ALARM goes off for our yearly drill. So much for trying to finish that lesson a week before the quarter ends.

(Stick with me here, I do have a point.)

Last week I went to my trainer at the gym again about my injured foot. It wasn't getting better. She agreed with me it was time to go see a doc. I went to see the doc. He gave me the exact same exam, exact same diagnosis as my trainer. The only difference was his ability to prescribe an anti-inflammatory cream to rub on the sore areas. That has made a huge difference and it won't be long before I'm back out on the road running again. Personally, I think they should give my trainer a raise and the ability to prescribe this stuff 'cause she's awesome.

(One more. Promise I'll tie it together! Promise!)

I pulled into the gas station to fill up my car and a lady nearly sideswiped me to pull into the same slot I was heading for. The patient person I am, I simply drove around the parking lot, chose another station, and parked. When I inserted my credit card, the machine wouldn't take it. After three tries, it locked up and insisted I go inside. The nice lady at the counter (I could tell she was frazzled from a day of unhappy gas customers) said I had to prepay. So I did. When I reached the said amount, it wasn't enough to fill my tank, but I was too tired to go back in and pay more, so I simply took my second receipt, closed everything up, and drove myself home.

THE MORAL OF THE STORIES...Bad stuff happens. Deal with it. Accept it. Go on. Don't whine. Don't get your panties in a wad because the world ain't fair. There's always someone who's story is worse than yours, so be thankful for what you have. I may have injured my foot, but I have two relatives right now that are about to LOSE their feet due to health issues. I may have my lesson interrupted at school but at least we didn't have a real fire and lose the lives of children. Keep perspective. Be thankful for what you have. Even if your trophy is broken, you have it. Cherish it. Because you earned it.

Is that hot chocolate I smell?