In the past two weeks, I've been burning the candle at both ends in an effort to complete Christmas gifts and get my shopping completely.
Today is the let down day. That day after Christmas where the energy and emotions are down because gifts have been given and meals have been prepared and consumed.
After decades of following the same traditions, the past few years as our family has changed, we have adopted new traditions. I think that we perfected our traditions this year.
No Christmas Eve or Day major meal preparation. Instead, we have started celebrating with a Christmas Day breakfast with Swedish pancakes, cookies, specialty breads, and lots and lots of coffee.
Then, it was time for presents. I've taken to creating some sort of crafted item for each person: my two sons got cigar boxes re-purposed into boxes for their hobbies (one paints gaming figures and the other creates chain mail jewelry), each of their girlfriends got a cigar box re-purposed into a jewelry box, and the oldest's girlfriend's children each got a cigar box re-purposed into a pirates treasure chest.
Now, it's time to get back to my writing. Happy Holidays to everyone.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
POETRY CHAPBOOKS
After a long and stressful day, I sat down at my desk to grade some papers tonight. Not just any papers. The poetry chapbooks that my creative writing students had worked on.
Throughout the poetry writing unit, I exposed my students to a wide variety of poetic forms. (I used several of the ones found on www.shadowpoetry.org) Some days I dragged them kicking and screaming so to speak into a poetic form, but most of them attempted each of the 15 forms.
In the computer lab, they worked to complete the formal printed version of each poem. They had to reread and fix the problems in the forms, come up with a workable title, and make sure the type of poem was identified. They had to also accompany the poem with a picture. Then they had to create a title for the book, a table of contents, and a forward that explained the view of poetry they had and what the poems meant to them.
When the pages were printed out, we returned to the classroom to punch holes and make covers and use the Japanese binding technique I had learned in a workshop this past summer.
After a day where I felt I had no one listening, I read how students had found a way to express themselves through poetry, had learned about their viewpoint of the world, and had come to appreciate poetry and the poets who create it.
Throughout the poetry writing unit, I exposed my students to a wide variety of poetic forms. (I used several of the ones found on www.shadowpoetry.org) Some days I dragged them kicking and screaming so to speak into a poetic form, but most of them attempted each of the 15 forms.
In the computer lab, they worked to complete the formal printed version of each poem. They had to reread and fix the problems in the forms, come up with a workable title, and make sure the type of poem was identified. They had to also accompany the poem with a picture. Then they had to create a title for the book, a table of contents, and a forward that explained the view of poetry they had and what the poems meant to them.
When the pages were printed out, we returned to the classroom to punch holes and make covers and use the Japanese binding technique I had learned in a workshop this past summer.
After a day where I felt I had no one listening, I read how students had found a way to express themselves through poetry, had learned about their viewpoint of the world, and had come to appreciate poetry and the poets who create it.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
SANTA STORIES
I've been having one of those day. You know the kind I mean. The one where you're so tired it hurts to think and then when you do try to articulate, everything comes out so jumbled.
I'm trying to put my Toastmaster speech together for next week. I decided to call it "Santa Stories," but to me it doesn't seem to gel.
Remember Santa? That wonderful mystery guy who came down your chimney to leave you presents and you left him cookies and milk. I do.
I remember one Christmas in particular. I really didn't believe in the myth of Santa Clause, but I wasn't ready to give up the stocking thing yet either. It was after my grandpa had died and as traditions go, I would spend Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house. That way, I could help her set up for Christmas Day company. My stocking was hung on the fireplace screen and Santa would visit me there.
On this particular Christmas Morning, I descended the stairs to find that Santa had left me a package wrapped in tissue paper and balanced on two of the sides of the screen. I unwrapped it with excitement, but I re-wrapped it with disdain. Then, I returned to my bed and climbed under the covers. The Santa excitement was gone.
So, you ask, what was in the tissue paper? My grandmother had been cleaning the basement that December and had unearthed an old doll that I hadn't played with for at least five years. She had thought it would be a wonderful present from Santa to re-gift the doll, sans clothes except for the ones she had painted on her. I wasn't impressed with Santa's gift.
At that point in time, I wasn't old enough to see that my grandma meant well. In time I came to realize that it isn't the actual gift that has meaning, but the intent with which the gift is given that speaks volumes.
I'm trying to put my Toastmaster speech together for next week. I decided to call it "Santa Stories," but to me it doesn't seem to gel.
Remember Santa? That wonderful mystery guy who came down your chimney to leave you presents and you left him cookies and milk. I do.
I remember one Christmas in particular. I really didn't believe in the myth of Santa Clause, but I wasn't ready to give up the stocking thing yet either. It was after my grandpa had died and as traditions go, I would spend Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house. That way, I could help her set up for Christmas Day company. My stocking was hung on the fireplace screen and Santa would visit me there.
On this particular Christmas Morning, I descended the stairs to find that Santa had left me a package wrapped in tissue paper and balanced on two of the sides of the screen. I unwrapped it with excitement, but I re-wrapped it with disdain. Then, I returned to my bed and climbed under the covers. The Santa excitement was gone.
So, you ask, what was in the tissue paper? My grandmother had been cleaning the basement that December and had unearthed an old doll that I hadn't played with for at least five years. She had thought it would be a wonderful present from Santa to re-gift the doll, sans clothes except for the ones she had painted on her. I wasn't impressed with Santa's gift.
At that point in time, I wasn't old enough to see that my grandma meant well. In time I came to realize that it isn't the actual gift that has meaning, but the intent with which the gift is given that speaks volumes.
Monday, December 5, 2011
I WRITE THEREFORE I AM
A couple of weeks or so ago, I posted information about a website called Ladies Who Critique. So far, I have found several wonderful people there and possibly a critiquing partner. That said, by spreading the word about the site, I was entered into a drawing. I never win anything, but I felt spreading the word was an important thing to do. Last week, I received an email that said my name had been drawn.
Today in the mail, I received my gift, a notepad with cover that read "I write therefore I am."
I have for a long time considered myself a writer, but the idea of writing has seeped into my blood. If I cut myself, I sometimes thing that words and letters would flow from my veins.
On the first day of a series of workshops I just completed, we were given a sheet of paper and told to put our names on them. The overwhelming majority of us put our name in one of the two upper corners. Then, the facilitator told us that that is how we think of ourselves as writers and that by the end of the four sessions, we would look at ourselves differently.
This past Saturday was the last day of the workshops, and I do look at myself differently as a writer.
1. As my notebook says "I write therefore I am."
2. I feel proud of myself as a writer.
3. I am setting time for my writing rather than hoping I get to it. (Hence this blog is being written Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights between 9 and 11 pm central time)
4. I have forged ahead and am working to finish my "worst first draft" of the novel Tomorrow Relies on Yesterday.
5. I am ready to attend a writer's convention and pitch my first novel, and my second, and my third.
How are you ready to say "I am a writer" and "I writer therefore I am."?
Today in the mail, I received my gift, a notepad with cover that read "I write therefore I am."
I have for a long time considered myself a writer, but the idea of writing has seeped into my blood. If I cut myself, I sometimes thing that words and letters would flow from my veins.
On the first day of a series of workshops I just completed, we were given a sheet of paper and told to put our names on them. The overwhelming majority of us put our name in one of the two upper corners. Then, the facilitator told us that that is how we think of ourselves as writers and that by the end of the four sessions, we would look at ourselves differently.
This past Saturday was the last day of the workshops, and I do look at myself differently as a writer.
1. As my notebook says "I write therefore I am."
2. I feel proud of myself as a writer.
3. I am setting time for my writing rather than hoping I get to it. (Hence this blog is being written Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights between 9 and 11 pm central time)
4. I have forged ahead and am working to finish my "worst first draft" of the novel Tomorrow Relies on Yesterday.
5. I am ready to attend a writer's convention and pitch my first novel, and my second, and my third.
How are you ready to say "I am a writer" and "I writer therefore I am."?
Friday, December 2, 2011
HELLO, WHO ARE YOU?
I got to 25,000 word on my NaNo novel; that's the half way mark. Of course, I started out on the focused idea that I would finish my "worst first draft" by November 30. Of course, I had the plot fleshed out in my mind. Of course, I thought I knew my main characters well enough to write the 50,000. Right? Wrong.
So many articles I've read talk about answering basic questions of your characters, but this year I thought I knew the people in my novel well enough to just jump in.
PROBLEMS
1. The favored pet pooch in the first chapter somehow ceased to have any place in the novel.
2. I kept having to return to chapters to look up what I had said about different character - losing valuable time.
3. The characters, at least some of them, seem stagnant and boring.
SOLUTION
I went back to those articles and websites and created a character development sheet that will work for me. Tomorrow, I start to interview my characters, one by one, to really get to know them.
How do you develop your major characters?
So many articles I've read talk about answering basic questions of your characters, but this year I thought I knew the people in my novel well enough to just jump in.
PROBLEMS
1. The favored pet pooch in the first chapter somehow ceased to have any place in the novel.
2. I kept having to return to chapters to look up what I had said about different character - losing valuable time.
3. The characters, at least some of them, seem stagnant and boring.
SOLUTION
I went back to those articles and websites and created a character development sheet that will work for me. Tomorrow, I start to interview my characters, one by one, to really get to know them.
How do you develop your major characters?
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
DREAMING A CHARACTER
I've been struggling with the main character for one of my works in progress, Well Wishes. I couldn't get a clear picture of her in my head, nor could I get a clear feel for her personality. All I had was a clear picture of what was causing her inner conflict.
When I awoke the other morning, I had had a dream about a friend of mine from elementary school. Usually most of the people in my dreams still look the same as when I knew them. In essence, time has stood still. In some cases, I am the age I was when I knew them too.
In this dream, the person I knew wasn't what I remembered from elementary school. She was in her 50s or a little older with children and grandchildren of her own. She still possessed the mischievous twinkle in her eye, but her blonde hair had become gray.
I couldn't figure out why I had dreamt about someone from elementary school until I was driving to what a friend of mine calls a "Job-job". It hit me - slapped me in the face.
My dream wasn't necessarily about the elementary school friend, but thinking closely about the person in the dream, I found that she was a composite of that friend and a couple of other people I have known, all rolled together as my protagonist.
The character, once named Marytza, is now Anna. "She" is happy that I have come to terms with who she really is, and now the book seems to be leaping out of my head and onto the page.
Funny how characters can find a life of their own and dig in their heals until you as an author agree with the character.
What are some of the ways that your characters reveal themselves to you?
When I awoke the other morning, I had had a dream about a friend of mine from elementary school. Usually most of the people in my dreams still look the same as when I knew them. In essence, time has stood still. In some cases, I am the age I was when I knew them too.
In this dream, the person I knew wasn't what I remembered from elementary school. She was in her 50s or a little older with children and grandchildren of her own. She still possessed the mischievous twinkle in her eye, but her blonde hair had become gray.
I couldn't figure out why I had dreamt about someone from elementary school until I was driving to what a friend of mine calls a "Job-job". It hit me - slapped me in the face.
My dream wasn't necessarily about the elementary school friend, but thinking closely about the person in the dream, I found that she was a composite of that friend and a couple of other people I have known, all rolled together as my protagonist.
The character, once named Marytza, is now Anna. "She" is happy that I have come to terms with who she really is, and now the book seems to be leaping out of my head and onto the page.
Funny how characters can find a life of their own and dig in their heals until you as an author agree with the character.
What are some of the ways that your characters reveal themselves to you?
Sunday, November 27, 2011
THE DAWN OF DECEMBER
As November comes to a close in the next three days, I wonder where the past two months have gone. The days when the leaves change from greens to yellows and reds and oranges and then to browns. The days when the colorful mums decorate our lawns. The time when I enjoy the cooling crispness of the mornings.
Today as my husband left to drive a load eastward, the thermometer read 28. The rain that was falling should have been snow, but thankfully a cold drizzle persisted. As I look at the yards I pass, the lingering brown leaves that cling to the tree branches look lonely and cold as the wind tries to coax them to fall. Pumpkins left on a few porches look out of place as neighbors hang holiday lights with shivering hands.
It's hard to believe that we even looked forward to Thanksgiving except to have a few extra days off of work. Christmas and holiday decorations in many places were being set up before Halloween. Even Santa was making appearances by the middle of November. I was thankful that a few stores rebelled and waited until this weekend to display Christmas and the holidays.
My November will end with an orchestra concert. I started playing the violin in fifth grade and played through college. A couple of times between the end of college and last year, I had the opportunity to play with an orchestra. That, however, was a rare opportunity. Last fall, I decided to join a community orchestra. I have thoroughly loved the experience and the challenge. It will be a wonderful way the celebrate the end of November.
Today as my husband left to drive a load eastward, the thermometer read 28. The rain that was falling should have been snow, but thankfully a cold drizzle persisted. As I look at the yards I pass, the lingering brown leaves that cling to the tree branches look lonely and cold as the wind tries to coax them to fall. Pumpkins left on a few porches look out of place as neighbors hang holiday lights with shivering hands.
It's hard to believe that we even looked forward to Thanksgiving except to have a few extra days off of work. Christmas and holiday decorations in many places were being set up before Halloween. Even Santa was making appearances by the middle of November. I was thankful that a few stores rebelled and waited until this weekend to display Christmas and the holidays.
My November will end with an orchestra concert. I started playing the violin in fifth grade and played through college. A couple of times between the end of college and last year, I had the opportunity to play with an orchestra. That, however, was a rare opportunity. Last fall, I decided to join a community orchestra. I have thoroughly loved the experience and the challenge. It will be a wonderful way the celebrate the end of November.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
THANKFULNESS (looking back on my Thanksgiving)
When I was a kid, we gathered as an extended family for major holidays as well as once or twice a month for birthdays. My family is very musical so when the food was ready for any occasion, we stood and sang "grace," my two aunts usually leading. Not only did we sing, we usually sang in harmony.
At Thanksgiving, however, we would also go around and give something we were thankful for: family, health, friends. I don't remember anyone ever saying that they were thankful for anything materialistic.
Our extended family celebrations fell to extinction as my generation's family size grew and my mother's and grandmother's have passed away. The last few years have been a transition from old traditions to new.
With my two boys on different schedules and my husband an OTR driver, we found that a Thanksgiving breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Nine of us gathered and shared food and conversation, and we actually took family pictures by the fireplace.
So, with that in mind, what am I thankful for? Lots of things.
*a loving husband who is also my friend
*two children who have grown to love and respect each other (True, there were times I thought they would never talk to each other again.)
*a loving mother who has become my friend
*the two wonderful women who love my boys for themselves
*my oldest son's significant other's two boys
*my two step-daughters
*my oldest step-daughter's three children (Although my husband and I haven't seen them since the oldest was six months old.)
*my cousins and aunts and uncles (Although I don't see enough of them.)
Family and traditions mean a great deal to me. Other than them, I am thankful for
*a job
*a roof over my head
*food on my table
So, what are you thankful for? Rather than just counting the things you are thankful for on Thanksgiving, it's important to be grateful every day of our lives.
At Thanksgiving, however, we would also go around and give something we were thankful for: family, health, friends. I don't remember anyone ever saying that they were thankful for anything materialistic.
Our extended family celebrations fell to extinction as my generation's family size grew and my mother's and grandmother's have passed away. The last few years have been a transition from old traditions to new.
With my two boys on different schedules and my husband an OTR driver, we found that a Thanksgiving breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Nine of us gathered and shared food and conversation, and we actually took family pictures by the fireplace.
So, with that in mind, what am I thankful for? Lots of things.
*a loving husband who is also my friend
*two children who have grown to love and respect each other (True, there were times I thought they would never talk to each other again.)
*a loving mother who has become my friend
*the two wonderful women who love my boys for themselves
*my oldest son's significant other's two boys
*my two step-daughters
*my oldest step-daughter's three children (Although my husband and I haven't seen them since the oldest was six months old.)
*my cousins and aunts and uncles (Although I don't see enough of them.)
Family and traditions mean a great deal to me. Other than them, I am thankful for
*a job
*a roof over my head
*food on my table
So, what are you thankful for? Rather than just counting the things you are thankful for on Thanksgiving, it's important to be grateful every day of our lives.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
HERE COMES THE ... SUN?
I'm sitting here on my couch, computer on my lap, looking out at the strange phenomenon called a blue sky. Along the roof top across the street, there are dark silhouettes of birds and trees, of chimneys and antennas. I think they're called shadows, but it seems like it has been so long since I've seen the sun, I can be sure.
Sure, I'm exaggerating, but the dark clouds and dreary drizzle of the past couple of days had really had me dragging.
The cat, seeing the sun, has been calling out and insisting that I open the window. His his mind sun equals warm and warm equals open window to sit in. Logical? Not to me, but I opened the window anyway.
Autumn is working its way to winter. The tree outside my window has nary a left left on it. The bright yellows, oranges, and reds that fell from my maple trees have now turned to crunchy brown curls. This morning a heavy frost decorated each leaf and blade of grass and crunched as I crossed the yard to get the dog's attention. His curious nose has given him selective hearing loss again.
Sure, I'm exaggerating, but the dark clouds and dreary drizzle of the past couple of days had really had me dragging.
The cat, seeing the sun, has been calling out and insisting that I open the window. His his mind sun equals warm and warm equals open window to sit in. Logical? Not to me, but I opened the window anyway.
Autumn is working its way to winter. The tree outside my window has nary a left left on it. The bright yellows, oranges, and reds that fell from my maple trees have now turned to crunchy brown curls. This morning a heavy frost decorated each leaf and blade of grass and crunched as I crossed the yard to get the dog's attention. His curious nose has given him selective hearing loss again.
Friday, November 18, 2011
NaNo! NaNo!
Ok. Yes, it is the month of NaNoWriMo. Those of you who have tried it know how obsessed you can get with penning 50,000 words in 30 day or how burned out you can get in 30 days.
This year my story kept trying to leap onto the pages, and I had to rein it in because my ethics wouldn't allow me to start early. That wouldn't be fair.
So, how far am I? 13,315 words - just 36,685 words short of that 50,000 goal, but I am shooting to make the number of words by November 30.
My story came from a prompt I gave to my high school creative writing students. I find my prompts on line and in books; although, sometimes they are off the top of my head. This prompt was a story concept: A wishing well appears in a town in the middle of the night. My high school English classes were reading "The Monkey's Paw" at the time, and the two ideas swirled in my brain. What if the wishes came true, but there were consequences unique to the wisher and what if one of the main characters couldn't find something to wish for because she thought she had everything. And then, she sneaks a wish and .....?
I'm working on the worst first rough draft; letting my internal editor hide away behind a closed door in my brain. I locked her in there. I also find she has a name and that she must be married to my seventh grade English teacher (He was a grammar Nazi.) and at the same time married to one of my high school theater directors (His favorite phrase was "Do it again!").
So at this time I bid you adieu to go back and work on my NaNo novel.
This year my story kept trying to leap onto the pages, and I had to rein it in because my ethics wouldn't allow me to start early. That wouldn't be fair.
So, how far am I? 13,315 words - just 36,685 words short of that 50,000 goal, but I am shooting to make the number of words by November 30.
My story came from a prompt I gave to my high school creative writing students. I find my prompts on line and in books; although, sometimes they are off the top of my head. This prompt was a story concept: A wishing well appears in a town in the middle of the night. My high school English classes were reading "The Monkey's Paw" at the time, and the two ideas swirled in my brain. What if the wishes came true, but there were consequences unique to the wisher and what if one of the main characters couldn't find something to wish for because she thought she had everything. And then, she sneaks a wish and .....?
I'm working on the worst first rough draft; letting my internal editor hide away behind a closed door in my brain. I locked her in there. I also find she has a name and that she must be married to my seventh grade English teacher (He was a grammar Nazi.) and at the same time married to one of my high school theater directors (His favorite phrase was "Do it again!").
So at this time I bid you adieu to go back and work on my NaNo novel.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
LADIES WHO CRITIQUE
Ok, female authors. You know who you are. The ones who write late into the wee hours of the night penning your first or fifth novel. The ones who would like someone to read and give them an honest critique of their manuscript.
It's time to check out the writing group "Ladies Who Critique" to find a partner to critique, to join and read forums that share ideas and up to date information about writing, or to just find other female friends who write.
Check out this free writer's critique sight.
http://www.ladieswhocritique.com
Look for me, friend me, or maybe you just might be my critique partner.
It's time to check out the writing group "Ladies Who Critique" to find a partner to critique, to join and read forums that share ideas and up to date information about writing, or to just find other female friends who write.
Check out this free writer's critique sight.
http://www.ladieswhocritique.com
Look for me, friend me, or maybe you just might be my critique partner.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
TODAY? TODAY!
Today, I made the leaves dance. Well, the leaf blower we bought yesterday made the leaves dance. And then? And then I used the vacuum and mulched them all up. I learned something, though. One must remember to re-zip the bag to the mulcher before vacuuming the leaves again. I was caught up in the swirl of mulched leaves before I realized that the vacuum tube was pulling whole leaves up and chopping them up and putting them back on the ground.
Today, I used the over ripe bananas to make banana muffins. Comfort food that made my house smell divine.
Today, I spent time writing on my newest novel. I got wrapped up in listening to the two ladies in my head have a conversation over coffee and muffins.
Today? Today? Today, as the saying goes, is always the first day of the rest of my life.
Today, I used the over ripe bananas to make banana muffins. Comfort food that made my house smell divine.
Today, I spent time writing on my newest novel. I got wrapped up in listening to the two ladies in my head have a conversation over coffee and muffins.
Today? Today? Today, as the saying goes, is always the first day of the rest of my life.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
IT'S HERE! NOW TO GET WRITING
At 12:01 AM this morning, it arrived. What? What arrived? OK, maybe I'm a bit crazy, but I have taken the challenge, once again, to complete a first draft of a 50,000 word or better novel in the thirty days it takes for November to turn to December. Or, I can look at it this way. I have thirty days, while waiting for December to arrive, to complete a novel.
This is the fourth time I have participated in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).
The first attempt (I still have all my notes.) I came to a screeching halt because I realized that I didn't have enough historic knowledge to complete the story I created. Attemt ONE still on hold.
Although I finished my second attempt, I never found the time to finish the revisions and editing. It still sits on my shelf on an editorial hiatus.
Last year I attempted once again to participate and create a new story. Overloaded by life's expectations, I needed 36 hour days to learn to juggle my job - job (No, I'm not stuttering. My job - job is the one that pays the bills while I am honing my writing skills.), playing in an orchestra, keeping house and home in order, and writing. I began, and hit a brick wall.
This year I have revised my goals. Rather than just completing my novel, my goal is to get it revised and edited as a manuscript to have in my hand when I attend writer's conferences and workshops.
So, in the future, I'm hoping to generate interest in my writing.
This is the fourth time I have participated in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).
The first attempt (I still have all my notes.) I came to a screeching halt because I realized that I didn't have enough historic knowledge to complete the story I created. Attemt ONE still on hold.
Although I finished my second attempt, I never found the time to finish the revisions and editing. It still sits on my shelf on an editorial hiatus.
Last year I attempted once again to participate and create a new story. Overloaded by life's expectations, I needed 36 hour days to learn to juggle my job - job (No, I'm not stuttering. My job - job is the one that pays the bills while I am honing my writing skills.), playing in an orchestra, keeping house and home in order, and writing. I began, and hit a brick wall.
This year I have revised my goals. Rather than just completing my novel, my goal is to get it revised and edited as a manuscript to have in my hand when I attend writer's conferences and workshops.
So, in the future, I'm hoping to generate interest in my writing.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
25 PLUS HOURS AND COUNTING
Yes, it is almost here. What you ask? NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month for those who haven't experienced it yet.
I'm hyped. I was writing on a prompt with my creative writing class about a month ago. It was a prompt that I've done with my classes for two years, but this time I had an awesome idea for a novel for NaNo.
For the first time in the four years I've participated in NaNo, I have the setting drawn in my mind and a sketch of a map drawn. I know my characters and have begun to interview them. I know their troubles and their celebrations. I AM ready.
50,000+ words here I come.
My total goal this year is not to just write the words (for the last two years I had the words on the page, but in such disarray that things didn't make much sense), but to get the revisions made in time to get the manuscript sent out by June.
Heat the coffee, grab the music, get the comfy chair ready, pull the resource books near the computer, grab the note paper and pen/pencil and get ready to write. The race between time and words on the page begins November 1st.
For the first time in the four years I've participated in NaNo, I have the setting drawn in my mind and a sketch of a map drawn. I know my characters and have begun to interview them. I know their troubles and their celebrations. I AM ready.
50,000+ words here I come.
My total goal this year is not to just write the words (for the last two years I had the words on the page, but in such disarray that things didn't make much sense), but to get the revisions made in time to get the manuscript sent out by June.
Heat the coffee, grab the music, get the comfy chair ready, pull the resource books near the computer, grab the note paper and pen/pencil and get ready to write. The race between time and words on the page begins November 1st.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
CARVE OUT WRITING TIME
As I perused the freelance writer boards, I found my summer writer behavior validated. One site's editor wrote that as a writer on any given morning she gets up, turns on her computer, starts the coffee, and sits down to see what new freelance jobs are posted.
Unless I have a morning workshop or hubby has me out fishing, I find that is exactly what I have been doing this summer. Oh, if I could only do that during the school year. As a teacher, my students and the classes I teach become my focus to the detriment of my writing career. I have to figure out how to balance the two this summer without getting out of bed before 5:00 am or going to bed at midnight.
Although most books and websites about writing stress the importance of writing each day, I am one of those who needs to experience both sides of the coin, so to speak.
Two years ago, the district where I teach added creative writing as a semester elective. As a teacher, I stressed to my creative writing students the importance of writing at least 10 minutes each day and preferably at the same time each day. Research also stresses that it is important for teachers to participate in consistent writing practices with their students; hence, I wrote on the same prompt for the same 10 minutes as my students. As I look at my summer so far, this has had by far the clearest effect on my writing. I miss the specific time; I miss the prompts; I miss the focus. As I sit at home, far too many things invade my thoughts: mow the lawn, weed the garden, laundry, dishes.
So, not to sound redundant, it is important for emerging writers to carve out some specific time during the day (not just whenever) to sit down and write. Write something. Write anything. Ramble. Write a letter to a friend. Describe your day. But, whatever you do, WRITE!
Unless I have a morning workshop or hubby has me out fishing, I find that is exactly what I have been doing this summer. Oh, if I could only do that during the school year. As a teacher, my students and the classes I teach become my focus to the detriment of my writing career. I have to figure out how to balance the two this summer without getting out of bed before 5:00 am or going to bed at midnight.
Although most books and websites about writing stress the importance of writing each day, I am one of those who needs to experience both sides of the coin, so to speak.
Two years ago, the district where I teach added creative writing as a semester elective. As a teacher, I stressed to my creative writing students the importance of writing at least 10 minutes each day and preferably at the same time each day. Research also stresses that it is important for teachers to participate in consistent writing practices with their students; hence, I wrote on the same prompt for the same 10 minutes as my students. As I look at my summer so far, this has had by far the clearest effect on my writing. I miss the specific time; I miss the prompts; I miss the focus. As I sit at home, far too many things invade my thoughts: mow the lawn, weed the garden, laundry, dishes.
So, not to sound redundant, it is important for emerging writers to carve out some specific time during the day (not just whenever) to sit down and write. Write something. Write anything. Ramble. Write a letter to a friend. Describe your day. But, whatever you do, WRITE!
Monday, March 28, 2011
COUGH - GO AWAY
Cough! Hack! Wheeze! Will this horrendous cold / virus that the doctor says there is no medication for ever go away.
Woke myself up coughing far too many times last night. Just when I think I'm asleep, here it comes again. That urge to cough, especially if I just rolled over.
It's spring break and far too early to be up, but if I go to bed, I cough and lie there awake. So, I'm up and working. Some spring break.
Well, I guess I'll have time to polish part 2 of Life on my Own. Look for installment 2 sometime this week.
Woke myself up coughing far too many times last night. Just when I think I'm asleep, here it comes again. That urge to cough, especially if I just rolled over.
It's spring break and far too early to be up, but if I go to bed, I cough and lie there awake. So, I'm up and working. Some spring break.
Well, I guess I'll have time to polish part 2 of Life on my Own. Look for installment 2 sometime this week.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
POSTPONED BY THIS DISGUSTING COLD
I was sincerely hoping to post part 2 tonight, but this cold / flu is winning. Will have the second installment up soon.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
LIFE ON MY OWN (part 1)
I had graduated with honors in May, and by late July, I had eagerly accepted my first teaching job in central California. I loaded up my Saturn with the belongings I thought necessary and assured my mom that I would rent an apartment in a good location and find a Goodwill or Salvation Army for whatever I might need.
Driving across the country excited me, but the journey took me longer than I had planned. I stopped at an amusement park, the Grand Canyon, and other attractions that billboards told me I just couldn't miss. By the time I reached California, I had little more than a week to find an apartment and get organized. Yeah, right!
Since I had been hired at a Midwest job fair, the administrator expected me to report to the offices the Monday before school started. The Monday, that is, that I arrived in California. The enormous high school complex made me think twice. Could I really handle a job teaching high school theater? Would the students respect and listen to someone only five years older than they?
Well, after Mr. Oats, one of the assistant principals, finished his comprehensive tour of the campus and his lengthy dissertation on new teacher expectations, I panicked. I had thought I would have a week to get settled, but there were new teacher meetings to attend. I had no time to apartment hunt. So, I found a cheap motel that rented rooms by the week and stacked my boxes in a corner. I fell into bed each night that week after midnight only to be up at five in the morning. I had a grade book to set up, curriculum to learn, and lesson plans to write.
By the weekend, I was exhausted and willing to pay for a second week at the motel; even though, it was located, I had come to realize, in a “rent by the hour” operation. I busied myself typing and preparing; if not that, sleeping. If the sun shone, I didn’t know.
Monday morning the alarm seemed to shriek its warning to get up. As I dressed, I realized I was shaking. I ran my schedule over in my head as I drove through traffic that hadn’t existed the week before.
As the students filed into the classroom behind the theater, I felt small. Many of these creatures dwarfed my 5’4” frame. I soon learned the distressing fact that counselors dumped a wide variety of students who had no interest in theater into theater courses, especially first year theater courses.
As the final bell of the day rang, releasing the students, I realized I had survived the first full week of my teaching career. My stomach growled and I realized that I was starving. What I really wanted was a large iced caramel coffee and an order of cottage fries from Sam's Bistro. The quiet restaurant was just what I needed to calm my frazzled nerves.
While I sat under an umbrella on the outdoor patio, I enjoyed the warm breeze coming off the ocean. The salty aroma of the ocean calmed my nerves as I ordered.
"So, you made it through your first week. Congrats. Coffee’s on me." I had become a regular at Sam’s, and Jeff had been my waiter. I knew it was expensive, but even if I had had the energy to shop for groceries let alone cook in the evening, the motel room didn’t have the facilities.
When Jeff came back with my coffee, he had removed his apron and had an iced coffee for himself. "Mind if I join you?"
"No." The cool iciness of the drink soothed my throat. "It’d be nice to talk to someone other than a student. It's so different here."
"Where are you from?"
"Illinois.”
“Why so far from home?”
“I took the first job I was offered. I told the recruiter that I was willing to move anywhere. Now, I'm not sure. I'm looking at a weekend with nothing to do."
"Are you serious?” Jeff cut in. “You're in Cali. There's always something to do."
"Well, I suppose I’ll have to check the local newspaper for events."
"Look," Jeff interrupted my thought, "if you wouldn't think I was being to forward, I could show you around town and take you to the local music festival."
"I've still got to find an apartment I can afford and unpack." I tried to sound firm, but Jeff's offer sounded wonderful. I could use time away from work.
“You’re not living in your car, are you?”
“No.”
"Then, I could pick you up tomorrow and help you apartment shop. I know a couple of places that have vacancies. Then, I could help you unpack. That is if you wouldn't mind. Look, think it over and call me." He handed me a napkin on which he had scrawled his name and number.
(next installment on Thursday)
Driving across the country excited me, but the journey took me longer than I had planned. I stopped at an amusement park, the Grand Canyon, and other attractions that billboards told me I just couldn't miss. By the time I reached California, I had little more than a week to find an apartment and get organized. Yeah, right!
Since I had been hired at a Midwest job fair, the administrator expected me to report to the offices the Monday before school started. The Monday, that is, that I arrived in California. The enormous high school complex made me think twice. Could I really handle a job teaching high school theater? Would the students respect and listen to someone only five years older than they?
Well, after Mr. Oats, one of the assistant principals, finished his comprehensive tour of the campus and his lengthy dissertation on new teacher expectations, I panicked. I had thought I would have a week to get settled, but there were new teacher meetings to attend. I had no time to apartment hunt. So, I found a cheap motel that rented rooms by the week and stacked my boxes in a corner. I fell into bed each night that week after midnight only to be up at five in the morning. I had a grade book to set up, curriculum to learn, and lesson plans to write.
By the weekend, I was exhausted and willing to pay for a second week at the motel; even though, it was located, I had come to realize, in a “rent by the hour” operation. I busied myself typing and preparing; if not that, sleeping. If the sun shone, I didn’t know.
Monday morning the alarm seemed to shriek its warning to get up. As I dressed, I realized I was shaking. I ran my schedule over in my head as I drove through traffic that hadn’t existed the week before.
As the students filed into the classroom behind the theater, I felt small. Many of these creatures dwarfed my 5’4” frame. I soon learned the distressing fact that counselors dumped a wide variety of students who had no interest in theater into theater courses, especially first year theater courses.
As the final bell of the day rang, releasing the students, I realized I had survived the first full week of my teaching career. My stomach growled and I realized that I was starving. What I really wanted was a large iced caramel coffee and an order of cottage fries from Sam's Bistro. The quiet restaurant was just what I needed to calm my frazzled nerves.
While I sat under an umbrella on the outdoor patio, I enjoyed the warm breeze coming off the ocean. The salty aroma of the ocean calmed my nerves as I ordered.
"So, you made it through your first week. Congrats. Coffee’s on me." I had become a regular at Sam’s, and Jeff had been my waiter. I knew it was expensive, but even if I had had the energy to shop for groceries let alone cook in the evening, the motel room didn’t have the facilities.
When Jeff came back with my coffee, he had removed his apron and had an iced coffee for himself. "Mind if I join you?"
"No." The cool iciness of the drink soothed my throat. "It’d be nice to talk to someone other than a student. It's so different here."
"Where are you from?"
"Illinois.”
“Why so far from home?”
“I took the first job I was offered. I told the recruiter that I was willing to move anywhere. Now, I'm not sure. I'm looking at a weekend with nothing to do."
"Are you serious?” Jeff cut in. “You're in Cali. There's always something to do."
"Well, I suppose I’ll have to check the local newspaper for events."
"Look," Jeff interrupted my thought, "if you wouldn't think I was being to forward, I could show you around town and take you to the local music festival."
"I've still got to find an apartment I can afford and unpack." I tried to sound firm, but Jeff's offer sounded wonderful. I could use time away from work.
“You’re not living in your car, are you?”
“No.”
"Then, I could pick you up tomorrow and help you apartment shop. I know a couple of places that have vacancies. Then, I could help you unpack. That is if you wouldn't mind. Look, think it over and call me." He handed me a napkin on which he had scrawled his name and number.
(next installment on Thursday)
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
SPRING TEASE
Spring teased me today. Since it's only the middle of March, I know full well that winter can still rear its ugly head, and we could get a snow or ice storm before the sandal, shorts, and t-shirt weather arrives.
As the sun played in the sky and the temperature tease me with numbers in the 60s, spring fever began to take over my soul.
Although spring isn't due till March 21, a gentle breeze slid in through the open windows of my classroom sang a different song, and rays of light peeked though the pulled window blinds. I threw my bags over my shoulder and my jacket over my are and locked the door to my classroom. As I left the building, the warmth of early spring gave me the motivation to walk the dog when I got home.
Harley was impatient to get outside; he'd been home with the cat since I left for work this morning. When I came outside with the leash, he couldn't contain himself. In fact, he took me for a walk. I thought a walk would exhaust him, but he had enough energy to ask to go out before bedtime and just laid on the driveway enjoying himself.
As the sun played in the sky and the temperature tease me with numbers in the 60s, spring fever began to take over my soul.
Although spring isn't due till March 21, a gentle breeze slid in through the open windows of my classroom sang a different song, and rays of light peeked though the pulled window blinds. I threw my bags over my shoulder and my jacket over my are and locked the door to my classroom. As I left the building, the warmth of early spring gave me the motivation to walk the dog when I got home.
Harley was impatient to get outside; he'd been home with the cat since I left for work this morning. When I came outside with the leash, he couldn't contain himself. In fact, he took me for a walk. I thought a walk would exhaust him, but he had enough energy to ask to go out before bedtime and just laid on the driveway enjoying himself.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
BROADCASTING INTELLIGENCE
In a day where electronics can record and broadcast our "DUH" moves and behaviors, discretion and common sense MUST be used.
Hourly, people are taking pictures and making recordings of life as they see it. Most cell phones are equipped with photographic and video capabilities, as well as immediate internet access. You take a picture of you and your friend at a concert and post it on your Facebook page. You record a fellow worker putting excess salt on a co-worker's lunch and post it on You Tube.
But, before you post that picture or video, or even speak out against your employer, STOP AND THINK. Employers check out their employee's Facebook pages and other social sites.
It is not, I repeat NOT, wise to record you and a co-worker goofing around at work, playing a prank on a fellow employee, or even recording your antics outside of the workplace and then post your pictures or "home made video" on You Tube or some other comparable website.
"Why?" you ask.
At the work place, you are representing the company you are working for. If your friends can find the video, so can your employer, the competitor, and those who are your employer's customers. Think about what your "video" says about your employer and, if applicable, your employer's product. Would you do business with someone whose employees act like your video suggests? Would you buy a product from them?
Your employer has a right to discipline you as an employee for unacceptable behavior. You could be fined, suspended, or worst of all, fired.
In a time when broadcasting can bring instant gratification, it is imperative that you think BEFORE you publish or broadcast. Step into your employer's position. What action would you take against a person who did what you just did?
Hourly, people are taking pictures and making recordings of life as they see it. Most cell phones are equipped with photographic and video capabilities, as well as immediate internet access. You take a picture of you and your friend at a concert and post it on your Facebook page. You record a fellow worker putting excess salt on a co-worker's lunch and post it on You Tube.
But, before you post that picture or video, or even speak out against your employer, STOP AND THINK. Employers check out their employee's Facebook pages and other social sites.
It is not, I repeat NOT, wise to record you and a co-worker goofing around at work, playing a prank on a fellow employee, or even recording your antics outside of the workplace and then post your pictures or "home made video" on You Tube or some other comparable website.
"Why?" you ask.
At the work place, you are representing the company you are working for. If your friends can find the video, so can your employer, the competitor, and those who are your employer's customers. Think about what your "video" says about your employer and, if applicable, your employer's product. Would you do business with someone whose employees act like your video suggests? Would you buy a product from them?
Your employer has a right to discipline you as an employee for unacceptable behavior. You could be fined, suspended, or worst of all, fired.
In a time when broadcasting can bring instant gratification, it is imperative that you think BEFORE you publish or broadcast. Step into your employer's position. What action would you take against a person who did what you just did?
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A DOG'S LIFE???
There are some people out there that believe a dog has a perfect life; however, I'd like to argue that, in reality, a cat actually has the perfect life, or at least my cat does.
I have both a dog and a cat; both are foundlings. In other words, both animals were rescues. Harley, our dog, was adopted from the animal shelter. A garbage man had discovered Harley and his brothers and sisters. The puppies had been placed in a plastic bag and thrown into a dumpster. When we went to the shelter to find a puppy, Harley was the only one of the "foundlings" left. Spike, the cat, was also a "foundling," but he had been discovered with his brother under a co-worker's hedges. The two kittens had been abandoned by the mother, not the owner. Now both loving pets dwell in harmony.
Spike is a smaller creature and a cat, and it is virtually impossible to stop cats from jumping onto furniture and counters. So, whereas Harley is not allowed on the new furniture, Spike can be found snoozing on the back of the couch or crawling across my stomach to snuggle under my arm as I type. Harley is kept off the furniture and curls up in various corners. Wouldn't you rather be a cat?
Even on the coldest winter evenings, Harley must be let outside to "do his business." The cat, on the other hand, has a litter box under the sink in the bathroom. Which pet would you say has the better deal here?
Although Spike generally gets his bowl filled with dry cat food, on Sundays he gets treated to a pouch of moist cat food. Daily treats, as well as catnip, are put in his bowl at random. Harley's bowl, however, is filled with the same food day in and day out. His treats come every time he has done something rewardable, like staying in his yard when I decide it is too cold for me to traipse outside and wait for him to do his "business." Harley will also find himself the recipient of various table treats. On diet, I'll agree that the dog might have it better, except that it is legal for the cat to get "stoned."
Dog or cat, there are many days that I would love to lay around all day in the patch of warm sun and take a nap when I want.
Monday, February 7, 2011
SNOW!
In the grand scheme of things, there are three different ways to look at white flakes that fall from the sky and accumulate on the ground: snow.
The first way we look at snow comes from what age you are. Little children look at snow with fascination and want to go out and play in it. So parents bundle them up so completely that they can hardly move. School age students look at the snow and watch for an excessive accumulation so school is canceled and they can have a day off. Early and middle adulthood look at snow as a form of recreation: snowmobiling, snowshoeing, skiing, sledding. If, however, the adult has a home but no children, the snow must be moved off the driveway and/or sidewalk, and that takes effort and time after working hard all day. If the adult has children, the idea of "child labor" takes on a new meaning; if you shovel the drive, I'll pay you $10.00. Older adults look at the snow and worry about who will shovel or worse, what will happen if they fall.
The way we look at snow depends on how long the season is lasting and how much snow has fallen. The first snow fall looks pretty and sparkly, at least until the salt, sand, and cinders have destroyed the pristine picture. By January or February, especially this year with the amounts of snow that have fallen, we look at the snow and wonder how much more will fall with the "I'm tired of all this white stuff."
The weatherman has a different take. Have you ever noticed that the weatherman always talks about a "light" snow? Since snow is white when it falls, how could it ever be thought as something other than "light," until we have to shovel it. Each individual snowflake is light in weight; so again, "light" fits.
So, what is your take on snow?
The first way we look at snow comes from what age you are. Little children look at snow with fascination and want to go out and play in it. So parents bundle them up so completely that they can hardly move. School age students look at the snow and watch for an excessive accumulation so school is canceled and they can have a day off. Early and middle adulthood look at snow as a form of recreation: snowmobiling, snowshoeing, skiing, sledding. If, however, the adult has a home but no children, the snow must be moved off the driveway and/or sidewalk, and that takes effort and time after working hard all day. If the adult has children, the idea of "child labor" takes on a new meaning; if you shovel the drive, I'll pay you $10.00. Older adults look at the snow and worry about who will shovel or worse, what will happen if they fall.
The way we look at snow depends on how long the season is lasting and how much snow has fallen. The first snow fall looks pretty and sparkly, at least until the salt, sand, and cinders have destroyed the pristine picture. By January or February, especially this year with the amounts of snow that have fallen, we look at the snow and wonder how much more will fall with the "I'm tired of all this white stuff."
The weatherman has a different take. Have you ever noticed that the weatherman always talks about a "light" snow? Since snow is white when it falls, how could it ever be thought as something other than "light," until we have to shovel it. Each individual snowflake is light in weight; so again, "light" fits.
So, what is your take on snow?
Sunday, January 30, 2011
ANOTHER SUNDAY
Sunday! For some it is the end of the week; for others it is the beginning of the week. Which are you?
Although most calendars show Sunday as the beginning of the week, I find Sunday falls at the end of the week. Let's look at some of the reasons.
First, Sunday is considered a "day of rest." I get to sleep late, and generally, I use the time to recuperate from the hectic week. I can sip my coffee with pleasure and not gulp it down before I have to leave for work or errands. I also make time to play my computer games, read for pleasure, and what ever else I want to do.
Sunday is also the end of my week because I take time for planning: planning meals for the next week, planning activities for the next week, and planning my goals for the next week. How, then, could Sunday be anything but the end of my week.
I generally wash clothes for the next week, grocery shop for the next week, and clean to start the week with a good feeling. If I have eaten healthy all week, I tend to give myself a treat on Sunday (or at least I try to eat healthy all week).
When the alarm goes off on Monday morning, it is a new start - a new beginning - a time to begin. A time to attempt to exercise before I take a shower and get ready for work, and to plan to eat right.
Although most calendars show Sunday as the beginning of the week, I find Sunday falls at the end of the week. Let's look at some of the reasons.
First, Sunday is considered a "day of rest." I get to sleep late, and generally, I use the time to recuperate from the hectic week. I can sip my coffee with pleasure and not gulp it down before I have to leave for work or errands. I also make time to play my computer games, read for pleasure, and what ever else I want to do.
Sunday is also the end of my week because I take time for planning: planning meals for the next week, planning activities for the next week, and planning my goals for the next week. How, then, could Sunday be anything but the end of my week.
I generally wash clothes for the next week, grocery shop for the next week, and clean to start the week with a good feeling. If I have eaten healthy all week, I tend to give myself a treat on Sunday (or at least I try to eat healthy all week).
When the alarm goes off on Monday morning, it is a new start - a new beginning - a time to begin. A time to attempt to exercise before I take a shower and get ready for work, and to plan to eat right.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ...
Someone once said that "Money is the root of all evil." That concept is also mirrored in the literary themes that involve materialism, greed, and money. If you remember old Ebenezer Scrooge, he hoarded his money and didn't pay his employees what they were worth until he was encountered by his potential demise. He didn't want to die lonely and unloved. His ghostly visitors changed his materialistic greed. I find our world to have too many Ebenezers: government, CEOs of corporations, corporate administrators, high level school officials. All would rather cut the salaries or hours of their employees than cut their own income.
With this in mind, I find it interesting that politicians want to increase taxes because the tax base isn't funding the government and its programs or employees. Food producers, industries, and merchants are raising prices because the cost of creating and transporting their product is rising and they can't pay their bills.
It is too bad that they don't see what is going on here. Let's take a look.
If students were held responsible for what they were taught each year, teachers could move education farther forward.
If employers appreciated a job well done, more people would care about job performance.
If more people valued education and working hard for what they wanted, being on welfare wouldn't be as desirable as it is to some people.
If people who applied for welfare were held accountable for improving their education and obtaining a job, and if welfare was not such an all or nothing proposition, then being on welfare would be less desirable.
If we stopped giving so many people so much for free, people wouldn't expect more for free and they would understand that wants need to be supported with hard work.
If it was less desirable to be on welfare, then the government could spend fewer tax dollars on welfare.
If the government needed to spend fewer tax dollars on programs that gave people things for free, then the need to raise tax dollars would be eliminated.
Back to the beginning of the circle.
Too bad too many young people see the way to monetary success is through illegal activities: selling drugs, prostitution, stripping, etc. They see dollars as a way to success rather than seeing education and hard work as a viable way to the dollars they want.
Maybe I'm way to old fashioned, but this all is excessively frustrating.
With this in mind, I find it interesting that politicians want to increase taxes because the tax base isn't funding the government and its programs or employees. Food producers, industries, and merchants are raising prices because the cost of creating and transporting their product is rising and they can't pay their bills.
It is too bad that they don't see what is going on here. Let's take a look.
If students were held responsible for what they were taught each year, teachers could move education farther forward.
If employers appreciated a job well done, more people would care about job performance.
If more people valued education and working hard for what they wanted, being on welfare wouldn't be as desirable as it is to some people.
If people who applied for welfare were held accountable for improving their education and obtaining a job, and if welfare was not such an all or nothing proposition, then being on welfare would be less desirable.
If we stopped giving so many people so much for free, people wouldn't expect more for free and they would understand that wants need to be supported with hard work.
If it was less desirable to be on welfare, then the government could spend fewer tax dollars on welfare.
If the government needed to spend fewer tax dollars on programs that gave people things for free, then the need to raise tax dollars would be eliminated.
Back to the beginning of the circle.
Too bad too many young people see the way to monetary success is through illegal activities: selling drugs, prostitution, stripping, etc. They see dollars as a way to success rather than seeing education and hard work as a viable way to the dollars they want.
Maybe I'm way to old fashioned, but this all is excessively frustrating.
Monday, January 3, 2011
DREAD OF THE ALARM CLOCK
I'll admit it; I looked forward to my two week break from work. I shopped before Christmas, and, for the first time, I actually had everything wrapped BEFORE December 23rd. I don't believe that has ever happened before. I didn't mind waking to the alarm clock to bake eggnog bread and poppyseed bread; I didn't mind waking to the alarm clock to confront the crowds to find the perfect present for each person on my list. Even after Christmas was over, I didn't mind waking to the alarm to work on cleaning and reorganizing my home.
But,
when the alarm went off this morning to wake me for work, I groaned. I hit the snooze button and rolled over. The second alarm went off on a different alarm clock. I hit the snooze button and told the clock that it was rude to wake me when the sun had not risen yet. I was still tired; I hadn't slept well. I rarely sleep well the night before I have to go back to work.
I go to bed early, knowing that the alarms will go off early, but the eyes won't cooperate. They pop open and stare at the walls through the darkness. Then, when I finally drift off to sleep, I wake up within the hour, and every hour after that. I'm worried, worried that I'll oversleep and be late to work. I worry that we'll have a power outage and the alarms won't be on time to wake me.
I wish the world could truly work with people setting their own scheduled starting and quitting times. Then, I could rise with the sun, take my walk, and go to work relaxed and refreshed with my coffee in my hand. But since that is not reality, I'm ready of another night where I worry about waking up on time, but hating the alarm clocks that yell at me to wake up.
But,
when the alarm went off this morning to wake me for work, I groaned. I hit the snooze button and rolled over. The second alarm went off on a different alarm clock. I hit the snooze button and told the clock that it was rude to wake me when the sun had not risen yet. I was still tired; I hadn't slept well. I rarely sleep well the night before I have to go back to work.
I go to bed early, knowing that the alarms will go off early, but the eyes won't cooperate. They pop open and stare at the walls through the darkness. Then, when I finally drift off to sleep, I wake up within the hour, and every hour after that. I'm worried, worried that I'll oversleep and be late to work. I worry that we'll have a power outage and the alarms won't be on time to wake me.
I wish the world could truly work with people setting their own scheduled starting and quitting times. Then, I could rise with the sun, take my walk, and go to work relaxed and refreshed with my coffee in my hand. But since that is not reality, I'm ready of another night where I worry about waking up on time, but hating the alarm clocks that yell at me to wake up.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
NEW TRADITIONS
I feel like I have started a couple of new traditions for New Year's Day today. Last night my mother called and asked if my hubby and I wanted to go to the local Swedish restaurant for Swedish pancakes. I declined; I like mine better and had decided to make them for hubby and me this morning. So, I invited her to come over, watch the Rose Bowl Parade, and feast on homemade Swedish pancakes. Then, I thought that I would invite my two boys and their "friends."
As the sun rose this morning and the dog begged to go out, I put the bacon in the oven (Yes, that's right. I bake my bacon.) and pulled the mixer out to whip the eggs, add the rest of the ingredients for Swedish pancakes (There is a family secret to our better than restaurant recipe.), heat the skillet, and develop a New Year's Day tradition that will endure.
The Rose Bowl Parade entertained the family, and I worked my way through a triple recipe of batter. (Good thing my oldest and his girlfriend didn't show up. The five of us polished off all of the pancakes.)
With plenty of coffee, pancakes, bacon, juice, and fruit, we feasted on the first meal of the New Year. We oohed and ahhed over the floats that the cameramen focused on for our pleasure. At one point, a friend of my son's texted him with the following concept that will not repeat itself for one hundred years: It was 11:11 on January (1) first (1) in the year 2011 (11) - thus, 11:11 1/1/11.
Happy New Year to all, and to all a fantabulous year.
As the sun rose this morning and the dog begged to go out, I put the bacon in the oven (Yes, that's right. I bake my bacon.) and pulled the mixer out to whip the eggs, add the rest of the ingredients for Swedish pancakes (There is a family secret to our better than restaurant recipe.), heat the skillet, and develop a New Year's Day tradition that will endure.
The Rose Bowl Parade entertained the family, and I worked my way through a triple recipe of batter. (Good thing my oldest and his girlfriend didn't show up. The five of us polished off all of the pancakes.)
With plenty of coffee, pancakes, bacon, juice, and fruit, we feasted on the first meal of the New Year. We oohed and ahhed over the floats that the cameramen focused on for our pleasure. At one point, a friend of my son's texted him with the following concept that will not repeat itself for one hundred years: It was 11:11 on January (1) first (1) in the year 2011 (11) - thus, 11:11 1/1/11.
Happy New Year to all, and to all a fantabulous year.
LOOKING TOWARD THE NEW YEAR
As I stood in the check out line yesterday at our local Kroger / Highlander grocery store, the cover to the newest Oprah magazine displayed a large bold headline that challenged readers to identify "What's your next chapter?"
What a fabulous way to look at the new year and the resolutions I might make. This new chapter, chapter 53, begins this morning. Learn to live simply and adopt a healthy lifestyle.
So, 2010 has come to an end without much fanfare or celebration, and 2011, coming on the tail of a lunar eclipse of a full moon on a winter solstice, will have to prove itself as spectacular as my Yahoo astrological prediction says it will be.
What a fabulous way to look at the new year and the resolutions I might make. This new chapter, chapter 53, begins this morning. Learn to live simply and adopt a healthy lifestyle.
So, 2010 has come to an end without much fanfare or celebration, and 2011, coming on the tail of a lunar eclipse of a full moon on a winter solstice, will have to prove itself as spectacular as my Yahoo astrological prediction says it will be.
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