Begging for the Beautiful

Sooo I really did mean to post again last month! I wrote a poem and everything and then... it was May? April was full of fun/overwhelmingly busy and my writing has suffered for it. Does that ever happen to you? You fall too far away from your creative self and it becomes harder and harder to clamber back to your internal world?

Good news is, I figured out my next project! It's still very much in the planning phase, but it feels good to have a world to slip away to again.

In the meantime, I wrote this poem. I'm not a very political person, but recent(ish) events inspired this one.

Begging for the Beautiful

The World’s come untethered

It wobbles off its axis

Writhing

Wailing

Screeching

for someone to cling to

as it spirals into darkness

The Sky is burning

Flames lick the stars while black smoke

blooms

Like a shroud veiling

The horizon

The Sea is a skeleton

Ridges and fissures and broken bits

of bone

Exposed

Roasting

Unshielded from the sun

The Earth is dusty

It remembers 

the color green

the tall grass buzzing with bees and butterflies

And yearns for that thumping pulse

the tread of your feet

The People are weeping

Bruised and bloody

on their knees

Begging for the Beautiful that the world

had promised

The goodness they were meant to see

You’re searching
But you cannot find the Beautiful

Whimsy

In honor of National Poetry Month, I thought I’d share something with you guys. I don’t write a ton of poetry anymore, just every once in awhile when the mood strikes. And I scrap most of them for being terrible, but this one has a special place in my heart. It's sort of an elegy for childhood.

I’ve never actually shared any of my poetry before outside of a classroom setting, so you guys should feel… scared? Click away now while you still can!

Welp. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here goes.

Whimsy

A little pixie I drew that I thought complimented Whimsy

you were the sunlight

serenading a gray thicket from broken bits of blue

and I was fraying ends of yarn, held in place with dripping glue

you were made of something stronger

nettles, thorns, and earth, and something else I couldn’t touch

you were riddled starlight –

starbright beyond the weeping willow

and I, wishing to the window, braving

the eight-fingered witch and her silk-spun cauldron

slurping blood from the morning’s game

you were the braided wreath

of dandelion gathered in a field

of weeds, and when I was done

there were burrs on my clothes

and you were those

you were a ballad, a legend

I sang to the worms when the earth was too wet to breathe

you were my bow, strung with shoelace

and the arrow that pricked my pointer

for one hundred years of hapless dreams

mostly you were my shadow

a gray stain sometimes at my feet

in the thickest shade you drifted, probing

the night, coiling wicked shapes across the walls

it was a long time before I saw the peacock

and by then you were already changing.

I don’t know you as I once did

you are altered beyond recognition

to what end is irrelevant, for there is no way back

no matter how many conjured stars

that is the way of these things

yet still, you are

The Pretty Lies I Fell For

As I’m coming up on my five-year mark since having graduated college, and realizing I’ve officially been out longer than I was in, it has me thinking about school and learning in general. I was an English major, creative writing. Makes sense, right? I was one of those kids that knew she wanted to be a writer since she could hold a pencil. I didn’t really have to think about what I wanted to do, or how I would get there, because you just sit down and you write. Right?

Oh, how naive I was. I trusted the system, trusted my creative writing program to teach me how to write, how to edit, how to get published. I didn’t even know you needed a literary agent to get traditionally published until around the time of GRADUATION senior year. That’s messed up.

I went to a small, liberal arts college. Any professors that had been published there were through small, independent presses, and I don’t think a single one wrote fiction. And that’s fine, but my dream has always been to walk into a bookstore and see my book sitting there on the shelf. That’s rare with small, indy presses. And no one could tell me the process for the other way.

This was back in 2009. Twitter was relatively new, so I hope young writers these days are finding more access to information than I was. The writing community on there is full of so much information, and so supportive. But I didn’t find that until 2011.

Someone told me in order to find an agent, I had to consult this GIANT TOMB of agencies and publishers. I can’t even remember now, what it was called. And sure, maybe that was how it worked before the internet, but this was 2009! Most agencies had websites, with a lot more accurate information listed on them than in that year-old reference book. But I did as I was instructed and went to the library and I took notes.

And that’s when my education really began.

I have learned more in the five years since leaving college than I did in the four years I was in it. And I’m starting to realize something kind of awesome. I don’t know if this is true for everyone, but for me, the “real world” is sort of a constant independent study, just without the term papers. I get to research what I want, when I want, and I’m realizing that I’m a lot more curious about things than I ever thought.

Among these lessons, the hardest one was probably how to self-edit. Some of my creative writing classes were workshops, classes where one person’s short story or poem got critiqued by the class each week, and then the writer was supposed to take that feedback and use it to edit their work.

Now, maybe things would’ve been different in a larger school with a more intensive creative writing program, I don’t know. For better or worse (probably worse) I was a big fish in a small pond. I was one of the few in these classes that took writing seriously. I was there to learn how to be a writer, not just filling an English requirement. And so, I was always one of the best. My critique day consisted of people being really impressed and complimentary. Which, great for my ego, not so much for the writing. How was I supposed to edit something that was already PERFECT? I was hot stuff. I was going to graduate and get published that summer and never have to worry about getting a “real job”. I was going to show all those people who kept telling me I would have to do something to support myself. I would show them.

Yeah…

Sometimes those people are right. And that's okay. It doesn't mean you've failed.

I’m not saying that you should give up on your dreams. Never! Dreams are the stuff of our souls! But they take hard work and sweat to accomplish them, and it's delusion to think otherwise. You have to kill your darlings, find your voice, sometimes forgo sleep to find the time, grow a dragon hide to wear against rejection, and still somehow keep going.

I don't resent the lies. I told myself most of them. And I think I needed to. I needed to be able to dream, and big, without reservation. Maybe I should've done my own research sooner. But I got there eventually. We all do, if it means enough to us. And there's no expiration date on dreams.

So whatever your dream, keep at it. Keep learning, keep pushing yourself, keep growing. We all know the saying. The only difference between a published and unpublished writer is that one of them didn’t give up. It takes a kind of inherent bravery to write a book, to dream that big. So even if you're just starting out - ESPECIALLY if you're just starting out - be proud. And let yourself dream big.

Beeeeeee Yourself

So as I sat down to write this post, I accidentally clicked "new blog" instead of the little pencil button used for creating posts. Yep. It's been that long. *face palm*

What have I been doing with my life, you ask? Writing. Lots and lots of writing. Between the Day Job and the Writing Cave, I haven't made much any time for blogging. And I figure that's okay, because in the end, I write to publish books, not blogs. Well. I suppose I'm going to publish this post as soon as I finish it but… well you get the point.

I've actually been putting this post off for awhile. I mean, what could I possibly say after so long of an absence? Well, I've been thinking a lot of self-doubt.

We all have it. I bet you even J.K. Rowling had it when she decided to write a novel for adults. Write something that isn't Harry Potter? How? The key is to not let it get the better of us. We have to be brave, look our ugly internal voices in the eyes (or mouths?) and not give up. Because that would be the easy thing to do, wouldn't it? Just give up. You wouldn't have to laugh nervously when someone asks you what you're doing with all your free time since you're too busy to hang out with them. You wouldn't get caught zoning out in the middle of a conversation because someone said something to dislodge your writer's block. And maybe for once, just ONCE you could do all your laundry AND fold it.

(Yes, that's all clean. This happens to other people, right?)

The thing is, we don't write because it's easy. We write because we're writers. It'd be like telling a fish not to swim. But even knowing that, it doesn't mean there's not that little voice in the back of our heads whispering that we're crazy for trying.

Here's the thing I've been struggling with lately: accepting my voice. Don't get me wrong. I like my voice. It's what makes me, me. But you read these great books with sexy, edgy voices who aren't afraid to "tell the truth" and sometimes I'm a little envious. I'd like to be as brave as that. So I start thinking, how can I make my book edgier? Maybe I'll kill my MC's mom, or maybe I'll give her a tattoo, or a nose-ring...

This is why we write in drafts.

I'm not an edgy person. My dark side gets about as dark as dark chocolate. And I have to remind myself that that's OKAY. That's not me. If I tried to be edgy and gritty when my MC and I are not, well for starters, it would sound ridiculous, as you can see. But also, it wouldn't be my truth. And that's what we have to remember. Write what feels right to you. That's not to say don't push yourself or broaden your horizons, but don't try to change your voice just because something's in style. Do that and it will sound absurd. It will sound forced. Besides, don't you want to be able to look at your baby and say with pride, without a shred of doubt, "I WROTE that!" with no one else's words but your own?

As Genie said in the Disney masterpiece, Aladdin, "Beeeeeeee yourself." :-D

Do you struggle with self-doubt? How do YOU silence it?

Conference Aftermath

So for those of you who don't know, I spent last weekend at DFW Writer Conference. I had a blast, made several new friends, and got to do some actual learning again. If you're considering going to a conference, I'd recommend checking this one out.

Me and Kelsey, one of my new DFWCon BFFs

I love conferences because it's one of the only places where I can totally nerd-out about writing in person. Twitter, Facebook, email, Skype, they're all great but there's just something about seeing other writers in person, looking them in their non-pixalated eyes and seeing a kindred soul - *clears throat* okay, I'll stop with the mush. So I love conferences. I've made that pretty clear. But boy are they EXHAUSTING.

I've spent this entire long weekend (thank you, Vets for this extra day) just recovering. Well, getting my requested materials ready to send out and recovering. For anyone considering a weekend conference and not thinking about taking that following Monday off… I would advise you to think again. It's not just the physical fatigue of not getting those two weekend days to sleep in. There's a lot of mental and emotional fatigue that  I'd forgotten had taken a toll after my first conference.

Because here's the thing. Writers are great, right? I mean, we're probably the coolest people on the planet. We spend our free time MAKING THINGS UP. Some of us, the lucky ones, get to do it for a living. But it's a very solitary activity, even with Facebook and Twitter and whatever else you use to keep in touch with your writer friends, the ACTUAL WRITING happens alone, locked in your room with headphones on (for me, anyway). And it's REALLY easy to forget that you're not the only insane person out there doing this. You forget about the competition. And let me tell you, there's a lot of it. Conferences are perfect reminders of this.

And it might take you a few days after you get home and settle back into the real world to remember: this is a good thing.

If you're lucky, you'll have made a few new friends at this conference and maybe agreed to swap manuscripts, and it's always good to have another pair of eyes looking at your stuff. And more people who know your writing means more cheerleaders, and who doesn't want those? But realizing the competition also provides you with a unique opportunity to reexamine your own stuff and see what you can do better. Personally, I always find that critiquing someone else's work offers that "lightbulb moment" of understanding what you did wrong, or what you could be doing better.

Be glad for your competition. They're also your allies and will undoubtably make you stronger. So rest up, conference friends. We've got a lot of work to do!

Have you ever had a moment when you realized just how much competition there is out there? How did you deal with it?

Why You Shouldn't Self-Publish Your Kid's Book

So I read this article today, and I'll be honest. It made me a little angry. Not at the kids, of course - they don't know what they're doing. At the parents. Though, they probably don't really know what they're doing either, and maybe that's the problem.

Let me be clear. I’m not against these kids writing. I’m all for it, actually. We all have to start somewhere, and I was one of these bright-eyed little ones not too long ago. And I remember the feeling of pride in completing my first novel. But I also remember that feeling of unease.

Even looking down at my stack of printed pages, a hand-drawn cover slipped inside the plastic binder to make the copy I let my mother read seem more like a real book, I knew it wasn’t finished. I knew with utmost certainty, even at the age of 12 that my book wasn’t ready to be published. It needed to be edited, and probably completely rewritten. Now, at 12, I had no idea how to go about editing my own work, and I’d already spent a year writing the darn thing and wasn’t about to waste any more of my not-quite-adult attention span on rewrites. I was done. And it was time to move on and write another one.

But even knowing that, if someone had asked me if I wanted them to publish my book, would I have said yes?

OF COURSE.

More than anything in the world, I wanted to be a published author. It was a dream I’d had since I knew what a book was. And to get to tell all of my 12 year old friends that I was a published author? A real life author with a cover and a book that sold for REAL LIFE MONEY? What kid is going to turn that down?

And here’s where I take issue with this. The books I wrote at that age were… not good. To put it gently. I can ONLY IMAGINE the embarrassment I’d face today if someone had gone along and slapped a cover on them and sent them off to be sold on smashwords and amazon. Because that stuff, it never really goes away. Just today, I saw someone lamenting on Twitter about how even though they’d unpublished their book, smashwords was still distributing it. This stuff sticks, ESPECIALLY now in this digital age.

Everyone deserves the chance to hide their beloved first books in the secret compartment in the top drawer of their dresser, buried beneath their unmentionables. Sure, we hang onto them and take them out, dust them off, and poor through their poorly written pages every now and then. It’s a sentimental thing. It’s humbling. We all want to remember where we came from. But that doesn’t mean I want to show my underwear or my secret compartments to Amazon!! And these kids, they won’t realize it now, but they’ll probably feel the same way in ten years.

Writing, or I suppose any goal, requires a lot of hard work, frustration, adversity, and probably a good deal of disappointment before you can really get good at it. But that’s how it's supposed to be. It’s what makes us reach it. If it was so easy, everyone would do it, and it wouldn't be much of a goal. All of that struggle and toiling away is what makes us better. It’s a process of growing, and it’s a process that these kids are being denied.

Now, let me clarify, I have nothing against self-publishing. I think it’s great, really. I have friends that have done very well with it. But even they weren’t simply HANDED the self-published book. They had to work for it, as hard, if not harder than I’m having to work toward traditional publishing. There’s not a single grown self-published author that I know of who hasn’t faced a good deal of adversity, be it from trying the traditional route and learning that it wasn’t for them, or from small-minded people who call them “fake authors” because they didn’t go through one of the big houses. Most of them have hired editors and have had countless betas and critique partners go through their books with fine-toothed combs.

Now, I haven't read these kids’ books. I don't know if they’ve been edited or critiqued, but I somehow doubt they had more than a few pair of eyes giving them an honest read before they went to the presses. At that age, I didn’t really know anyone else who spent their free time writing. Most of my friends thought I was really weird. So finding peers to be betas would be really hard. And while the internet is great, I don’t know many parents that would want their young teens emailing back and forth with a bunch of faceless writers, prying into their kids’ innocent little heads. Stranger danger, and all that.

Yes. The books will probably be bought. Probably by the same people in Daddy's office who would have bought a box of girl scout cookies to be polite. Does this mean that the book will get read? Maybe. Maybe not. Personally, I grow to resent things that people try to force on me, things I feel obligated to read because so-and-so's cousin's daughter wrote it. And is that really how you want your child's book to be read? Out of obligation, as opposed to enjoyment?

This article makes a point about it not being much different from parents paying for their kids to go to dance lessons, or to take guitar, or join a travelling soccer team. But the thing is, they’re not paying for lessons. They’re paying for the trophies, the gold medals, having the song put on iTunes (I think we’ve all seen what that leads to. Rebecca Black, anyone?) And really, what does buying a trophy teach your kid? That your parents will buy you anything, if you want it enough?

Most towns have SOME sort of creative writing program, whether it be through the park district or a community college, so enroll your kid in one of those for heavens sake! Or I suppose, if you’re a really devoted parent, take them to a writers conference if you feel like they’re mature enough to handle it. That’s where the real learning happens. Because that’s what it’s all about, in the end. Learning. I can pretty much guarantee that these kids don’t know enough about the publishing industry to make an informed decision on which path is right for them. So don’t push them into a decision they know little about and might regret later in life. Help them learn instead.

Dreams Really Do Come True

That's right. And I have proof.

This guy...  Jarno Smeets had the audacity to dream of flying. I'm sure we've all been there, thrown a penny into the fountain, wishing we could fly. But none of us have actually tried to make that dream come true. Outside of jumping off the garage roof, or past the age of 10.

I have a distinct memory of sharing a wishbone with my mother as a small child. After winning the split, she asked me what I had wished for. I grinned sheepishly and she asked if I had wished I could fly. I didn't need to nod for her to know my answer. She saw it in my face. And then suggested that maybe next time, I shouldn't waste a wish on something that would never come true.

But this guy did it. He ACTUALLY did it.

And it got me thinking. This guy dreamed of flying and made that dream come true. It makes my goal of being a published writer seem... realistic. I know, I know, that's crazy. (I'm sure all of you aspiring writers out there understand) But if he can fly, why can't I publish a book?

There will always be people reminding you to wish for the practical, and while it's good to wish for those things too... don't let them kill your dream. Dream big. This guy did, and look where it got him. Some 30 feet in the air.

Watch the video of the flight here.

The Season

Well... Halloween’s over. Not sure about you guys, but we take that holiday very seriously in my house. Maybe it has something to do with my deep-rooted love for costumes… maybe. I might have been the kid that wore her cowboy costume to school on a day that wasn’t Halloween. Dead winter, in fact. I remember because it was a pain in the butt to trade those chaps in for snow pants at recess. But that brings me to my next point. Now begins The Season.

I can now absentmindedly hum Christmas carols at work without sounding like a complete premature nincompoop. I still can’t sing them mindedly until after Thanksgiving, but that’s alright. Only three weeks.

I’ll be honest though. I got in the holiday spirit a little early this year. At work, we were sent one of those catalogs full of Christmas card options. I flipped through it one day on my lunch hour and there was this one picture that jumped out at me. It’s probably the most cliché scene ever. One of those Thomas Kinkaid types, with a snowy farmhouse at sunset and sleigh rides. But it wasn’t really the scene that got me. It was the sunset. The orange glow setting below the silhouetted snow-covered trees. It reminded me of winter nights at my dad’s house, sitting on the vent, trying to get warm and looking out his large back windows at the sunset. We didn’t own a farm house or have sleigh rides pass our front door. But that was my sunset.

Have you ever stumbled on something cliché that even though you knew it was cliché, it made you a little nostalgic? What makes a cliché personal? Is it your own experiences, or is it something in its delivery?

The In-Between Time

I’m back! Well… actually I never left. I’ve been lurking in the blog shadows – not nearly as creepily as that makes it sound.

Anyway, adjusting to the working world and still finding the time (and energy) to write is tough. I’m finding it difficult to exist fully in both realms – that is, my imagination and the real world. When Imagination takes over, it takes over completely. But I can’t let it the way I used to. I have to exist Monday through Friday until five in the real world. And slipping behind the veil again is not as simple. I don’t know about you guys, but for me, it takes me awhile to settle back into myself (having acted the part of a normal person all day) before I can drift off into Christine World – as the people who witness the transformation like to call it. Not that I mind acting like a normal person all day – it’s fun. And a refreshing breather from my own head. It’s easy to get lost in there.

And in some ways this writing break has been good for me. I was feeling a little overwhelmed by all the editing and needed a pair of fresh eyes. I started up again last weekend and I’m pretty pleased with the progress I’m making so far. But really, I’m just glad I have something to edit. I’m not quite ready to start writing again yet. I’ve got several new story ideas rolling through my head and as soon as I decide to latch onto one, I just know it’ll suck me in completely. And I’ll admit… for now, I’m enjoying this freedom.

Do you take advantage of the time in-between stories? What do you do with it? Or is the call of your next story too strong to take a break?

Why Do You Write?

*WARNING: this post may contain sentimental themes inappropriate for cynics

The simple and probably boring answer would be because I have to. That I can’t help it. And while that’s all good and true… for me, it’s more than that.

I have one sibling. She’s ten. And happens to be every bit as much of a bookworm (read: nerd) as I am. *cheers*

I’ve been staying at my mom’s house for the past week. There are many advantages to this. Free food… not having to cook said free food… clean laundry… and my sister. We started reading a book together last weekend, taking turns chapter by chapter (yes, using strange voices). So far, it’s proved to be a very good book, and has enchanted my sister so far as to inspire her to draw pictures of the main characters, and start writing a new story of her own.

This is why I write.

And maybe why I love writing children's fiction. Adults are better at disguising their inspiration, or talking themselves out of it. But with kids, they get an idea and just go for it. They’re a lot braver in that sense. And so much more willing to try new things. And that’s why I write. To inspire others. Because I still feel that sometimes. And I know there are very few feelings that rival this falling-so-deeply-in-love-with-a-piece-of-art-that-you’re-inspired-to-create-your-own thing. And I hope that some day some kid will feel this after reading one of my books.

Why do you write?

La Germinal

I’ve been a bit MIA for the past few weeks, and I’ve missed you all! *waves* I recently started a new job and I’ve been taking some time to settle in, adjust to the new schedule and all that.

And yes, that includes a break from writing. *quivers*

It’s interesting. Before I started working again I’d hit a sort of slump, writing-wise. I had a few story ideas rolling through my head while I edited my current WIP, but I wasn’t in love with any of them. And then one day, riding the L home from work… POOF! NEW STORY EXTRODINARE! I haven’t done anything with it yet. I usually like to mull the idea around for a little bit before I actually start writing it. And I’m trying to be a bit more organized this time. IE come up with the plot before I get half-way through.

O_O

Heh… Yeah. I’m a dreamer.

But really, it’s amazing what can come to you when you’re crammed like a sardine in a subway car. And by that, I mean, when you’re out actually EXPERIENCING things. Sometimes I forget that my imagination needs a little fuel, and that doesn’t always come from sitting in front of a computer screen.

I also notice that my inspiration level depends on the time of the year. Maybe it’s coincidence, but the last three books I’ve written have all been started at some point during the spring. The time of rebirth and rejuvenation. I guess it makes sense. I think a lot of writers are more sensitive to things like environment and seasonal changes. *listens for crickets* No? Just me?

 

I love this time though. The time before I actually sit down and start writing, when the idea is just a seed that can grow into absolutely anything. I’m curious though. Does the time of year affect you at all? How do you come up with your story ideas? Do they just come to you or do you actively brainstorm? Do you enjoy the brainstorming or do you feel panicked without a plan? I’d love to hear from you!

Followers, Friends, and Pen-pals

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately. How social networking, well, maybe even just the ease of the internet has changed the nature of friendships, acquaintances, work partnerships, etc. Most of my friends live far away now. I’ve got one in India, two in California – and one of those I’ve never actually met in person *waves*. You see, that’s what I’m talking about. Today, it’s possible to make great friends without ever meeting them in real life.

The way you communicate is just a little different. There’s less room for subtlety. You have to be blunter about your thoughts and feelings, which, I don’t know about you guys, but I find it actually kind of freeing. There’s less opportunity for those silly games people play that were always supposed to end in high school (but never do). You don’t have the luxury of facial clues to tell you how someone’s feeling. You can’t judge tone of voice from an email. So you have to pick up subtleties in other ways. Through an emoticon or two, and through their writing. Perhaps this is a writer’s dream. I’ve always been better at expressing myself through written word than in person.

I’m not really sure what my point is, or if I even have a point. I just think we’re lucky to live in an age where all of this is possible. What do you guys think? Has twitter/facebook/email changed the nature of relationships? How do you feel about it?

First Chapters

First chapters are hard, right? RIGHT? Good. Glad we’re all in agreement. Because let’s be honest, a first chapter can make or break a book. Or at least they determine whether someone keeps reading.

The funny thing about first chapters is that they’re usually the last ones we write. Your book probably isn’t ‘done’ until you’ve rewritten the first chapter about fifty times. Maybe that’s hyperbole. Maybe not. *shuffles in front of over-flowing trashcan* *kicks crumpled pieces of paper under desk*

We have to pack so much stuff into them… but at the same time make it look like we haven’t. A dash of back-story. BUT NOT TOO MUCH because people will lose interest. Action, but not too much of that either. You gotta make your readers care about your characters before you send them to the guillotine. You don’t want them saying, “sure, hack off that head, I don’t care.”

So how do you do that? How do you make them care? Is it internal dialogue? External dialogue? Setting? Descriptions? Action? Tension? Characterization? Voice?

I think it’s different for every book. It’s the way you sprinkle all those different aspects in, like your very own recipe. But I think every good first chapter has at least a little bit of all of those. It’s finding the right balance. And of course, it all really does boil down to character. You’re basically asking your readers to take a really long road trip with your characters. Do you think they’ll agree to get in the car without knowing them first? And if it looks like you crammed too much into the back seat, or if the air-conditioning is broken, or if the radio’s busted so it only gets AM stations? Well then, good luck. The only one who’s gonna get in is that creepy-looking hitchhiker standing there with his chainsaw.

What do you think makes a good chapter? What keeps you reading? And what makes you want to stop?

Birthday Sweets

Hi everyone! Just a few announcements. For those of you who didn't hear my excited squeals all the way from Chicago (in wherever you are) over the weekend, today is my birthday! Being the generous creature that I am, I've decided to share it with... MY NEW WEBSITE! Check it out. I'm painfully proud. Even though the site seems to be having updating issues today... that or that typo I'm trying to get rid of really wants to stay.

I also received a sweet award over the weekend. Literally. Thanks to Morgan Lee over at FantasyFairy, I'm now a proud new owner of the Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award!

Now, of course there are a few fun rules that come with accepting this award.

1. Thank and link back to the person that gave this award.
2. Share 4 guilty pleasures that you have.
3. Pass the award along to 6 other sweet blogs

So thanks again, Morgan!

Now for the part you've all been waiting for, I know... My guilty pleasures! I'll be honest, I don't feel too guilty about these, but I've decided that I probably should.

1. Chocolate. Of any sort. Cookies, cake, candy. I limit myself, but sometimes the craving us just too strong.
2. Coffee. I love the taste. It's hard on my stomach, so I try not to drink it, but sometimes it just can't be helped.
3. Sweaters. Date night? This bulky turtleneck doesn't make me look that frumpy. And if it does? Sorry, Sweetie.
4. Writing. Now, that's only recently become a GUILTY pleasure. And only because lately I've had so many other things I should have been doing instead. But... I don't feel that bad about it.

Now, I’d like to pass this award onto:

1. Barbara Kloss over at Scribbles & Jots 
2. Sarah J. Schmitt
3. Lori M. Lee at You are the Unicorn of My Dreams
4. Erica M. Chapman at Laugh.Write.Play
5. Diana Paz
6. Demitria Lunetta

Thanks for stopping by and have a Happy Monday!

I'm a Stylish Blogger!

Hey guys, take a look at the side bar. See that shinny award hanging out over there? No? ... It's possible I set it up wrong, so just in case, here it is again!

It was so generously awarded to me by the lovely Brenda Drake over at Brenda Drake Writes...under the influence of coffee. Now, this award comes with a few fun rules. In accepting it, you have to:

1. Thank and link back to the person who gave the award

2. State seven things about yourself

3. Pass the award on to any recently discovered great bloggers

So... thank you Brenda! Seriously, you guys should check out her blog. It's awesome, and she has another contest coming up on March 1. Personally, I can't wait!

I'd like to pass this award along to Sarah J. Schmitt over at Journey of a Writing Hoosier where she discusses books and writing - basically all the fun stuff.

Now, onto the seven things about me...

1. I wrote my first novel in a glittery green notebook when I was 12 and it was awful. I've since hunted for said notebook, but I think it crawled away to die with whatever was left of its dignity many years ago.

2. The background of my computer is a scene from Howl's Moving Castle, one of my all-time favorite movies (and books). If you haven't read anything by Dianna Wynne Jones, you should correct that immediately.

3. I will be 24 in a couple of weeks and I'm still getting used to being 23.

4. I met the love of my life when I was eighteen and we've been together ever since. (that's almost 6 years, for those of you mathematically-challenged-writer-folk.)

5. I draw to get a feel for my characters and I've recently started thinking about my next project. Last night, said boyfriend, apparently feeling ignored, looked over my shoulder at the picture below and asked if I like that man with the Adam's Apple the size of a testicle more than him. LOL. The answer is no.

6. In drawing, the thing I struggle with most is feet.

7. Aaaand last but not least, I have one sibling, a little sister about the age of the little girl in that drawing. And she's probably my best friend.

So that's it! Happy Wednesday, Everyone!

DNA Writers Contest

Hey guys, so just in case you haven't heard, there's this awesome contest going on over at the DNA Writers blog. Go check it out. Right now. You'll thank me later.

But seriously, they're all being so generous with their time. And all you have to do is fill out a short form. Prizes include:

• Brenda: Free $25 Amazon gift card.
• Shelley: Free book from the Book Depository under $15.
• Erica: Free book from the Book Depository under $15.
• Cassandra: Free 10 pg MS critique or 4 pg synopsis critique.
• Diana: Free $15 Starbucks e-gift card.
• Janelle: SIGNED paperback of Lisa McMann's WAKE

GRAND PRIZE: Full substantial edit of 80k or less (MG or YA only) from Kari!

 

Me? I want the 10 pg MS critique. And of course the grand prize, but who doesn't? It's awesome! So wish me luck and go enter!

Cures for the Writing Funk

It seems to me that for the last few days, there’ve been some writing funks lurking around the blogosphere. Myself included. Not because of anything in particular, just a general lack of confidence and feeling of hopelessness. Maybe querying has something to do with it. Putting yourself out there is hard, and it’s easy to convince yourself that everyone and their mother will shoot you down. Could be the weather. I think as writers, we’re generally more sensitive to shifts in our outward environments. At least I am. And this bleak weather definitely does nothing to improve my moods.

I was reading a post about this over at Operation Awesome yesterday. So how do you pull yourself out of such funks? I didn’t know. And then last night I found the answer.

Coffee ice-cream.

I ate an entire container of it at 11:30 at night. Not the brightest move in the world, but my boyfriend’s friend was over and they were using our bedroom TV to play videogames. We weren’t going to bed any time soon.

So I plugged in my headphones to drown out the sound of Spiderman’s web-slinging and decided to take another crack at writing. I’m guessing it was a combination of the coffee ice-cream and forcing myself to keep at it, but I actually started to feel better.

So I thought I’d compile a list of cures for the Writing Funk. Feel free to add to it if you think of anything!

• Coffee ice-cream. Try it. You can thank me later.
• Wallow-music. It’s different for everyone, but whatever makes you feel better when you’re down.
• A good book. Nothing better to take your mind off things. Unless, of course, it starts to remind you of your mess of a WIP. In that case, try…
• Mindless TV shows. Self explanatory.
• Exercise. They say it helps clear you’re head. Try at your own risk.
• Cleaning. I can’t think straight when my surroundings are a mess. An early spring cleaning is a good way to order my thoughts. The act is refreshing and it’s mindless enough that you can mull over ideas about WIPs.

Can you think of anything else? Write it in the comments and I’ll add it to the list.