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Author Archives: Eliza

I Like Guns

22 Feb

Yes, I do.

I grew up around firearms, so I am (for the most part) comfortable with them. My parents became gun safety instructors when I was in my sullen teenhood, and I remember (sometimes not so fondly) weekends spent on the gun range, writing and reading and drawing while they helped students shoot a variety and sundry of rifles and handguns, all the while trying not to freeze in the bitter Colorado winters.

I went through the safety class myself, and got to shoot all those pretty guns. Occasionally we’d go to the range, too, and I’d use the tiny gun I always think of as being pearl-handled, though I’m not totally sure it was. It’s romantic, though: a pearl-handled .22 revolver, just the right size for a garter holster.

That gun needs to go in a story.

This weekend, my trigger-happy tendencies were reignited. Mr. Eliza and I spent Sunday morning at a local range, shooting rifles and handguns of multiple calibers and awesomeness. You can check out a video of our date at his blog, here.

When we first got into the shooting part of the range (which was frigid, by the way), my nose flared up with the familiar scent of a fired weapon. What is that smell, technically? Gunpowder? Google says its cordite. Whatever it is, it smelled a little like coming home.

Then I got my first rifle to shoot, a .22, and sadness ensued. When you have a gun that weighs as much as a rifle, all the recoil from such a tiny bullet is going to be absorbed. It felt like shooting a capgun. Pingpingping. I used my next round of ammo on something much beefier, which you can see in the video. I think it was a 9mm, all black, with stuff on top and an effing laser sight. Heavy, too, and powerful. This, I thought, was much more what a rifle experience should be.

Then we moved on to handguns, where I started out with a Ruger Mark something, a .22. I have a thing for Ruger Marks. They remind me of WWII. Very no-nonsense guns, in my opinion. I don’t know if he actually used this gun, but I imagine Michael Fassbender wielding a Ruger Mark III in Inglourious Basterds. And how is that ever not sexy?

Anyway, after being bitch-slapped by a 9 mm Colt and wooed by a 9 mm Smith and Wesson, among others, we ended our time at the range and went out for beer.

So, why am I telling you all this? Well, other than the fact that I had an awesome time, and that I fully endorse gun safety training for everyone (seriously, do you want to be stuck not knowing up come the zombie apocalypse? Think long-term people.), I think that is important as writers to get a good grip (harhar) on some technical elements of writing. And for me, and a LOT of writers I know, guns are part of the story.

And when gun are part of the story, chances are you’re writing a high tension scene, one you want your reader to really identify with.

One way to achieve that connection is by getting the description right. The weight of the gun, the kick of the recoil (or lack of one in the case of that rifle), the smell, the imprints the grip leaves on the hand (in the case of the Colt), etc. It’s all part of it and, I think, an important part. If a character is going to kill someone, or even threaten them, their senses will be heightened. Adrenaline rushes, focus narrows, heart races.

I could write a scene where my character goes water-skiing. I could write that scene better if I went water-skiing myself.

I could write a scene where my character gets a tattoo. And, having gotten one, I think I can write it better now than I could ten years ago. (um, for a lot of reasons.)

I could write a scene where my character has sex, and—well, you get the picture.

(Not that picture. Get your head out of the gutter.)

So, what have your characters been getting up to lately? Feeling the need for any first hand research?

Photo used under Creative Commons license from Rob Beyer

 
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Posted by on February 22, 2012 in not writing, research, writing

 

It’s That Clarion Hopeful Time of Year!

02 Feb

As most of you know, this last summer I spent six weeks with some of the most amazing people on this planet, at the Clarion West writer’s workshop. As fellow workshopper Jenni Moody pointed out a while back, the experience of Clarion West is something that almost defies being put into words. Somewhat counter-intuitive for six weeks when words were our bread and butter, our air and water, but there it is.

The time has come for a new crop of hopefuls to throw their hats into the consideration ring. With the stellar lineup the organizers have put together this year (George RR Martin, anyone? Character-oriented writers rejoice!) the competition will surely be stiff. If you’re still vacillating on whether or not to apply, let me answer that for you with a hearty and unequivocal:

YES.

For the love of all that is holy polish up those short stories, write your application check and get that stuff in the mail! Time is running out! The application window is rapidly closing, with a firm March 1st deadline in place.

It’s scary. You know what? It’s really scary. It’s putting yourself out there and kind of committing to taking six weeks out of your undoubtedly busy life, to focus on something that has absolutely no guarantee of being anything other than personally fulfilling. The time commitment and the financial commitment and the emotional investment are all pretty lofty.

And worth it.

Even if you don’t get it your first time (or second, or third) you know that you’re still trying. But that phone call…damn, that’s a feeling. That was my second real validation that I was doing something right with my writing. My third validation came the first week of CW, when I sold my first short story.

Beyond everything I learned, though, it’s the people that I met that are so invaluable. My fellow Westies, of course (you guys rock!) and the authors, Neile and Les, all the volunteers and the hosts and past alum.

When I start talking about Clarion West I always skirt the line between excited and frenetic, because I am so enthusiastic about what this workshop provides. A taste of the writer’s life, invaluable connections, and adivce that will trickle down for years after the fact.

Do it. Apply. Because there is no way you can get in if you don’t.

Month of Letters Update from Day One–I sent TWO things yesterday! Birthday cards to my older twin brothers.  It felt good. :)

 
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Posted by on February 2, 2012 in Clarion West, Month of Letter

 

February: The Month of Letters

30 Jan

I have a penpal who I have been writing to since I was sixteen. He’s really good abhout writing these long, detailed letters in beautiful flowy script, and sending them often. Occasionally he’ll pepper his missives with some artwork, a handmade card or a set of homemade gaming dice. I have a huge box full of these letters, with another filling up.

I also have the meanest procrastination streak.

You see, despite these pretty, and frequent, letters, I haven’t sent anything out to him in…months. I’m not even sure how many anymore. My mailbox has had at least half a dozen letters which have gone unanswered, unacknowledged. Instead of sitting down with pen and paper (I prefer to send letters written with ink, the script titling with my own idiosyncrasies) I spend my time writing fiction. Or cross-stitching. Or doing laundry. I don’t know what it is about reaching out to him, or to the other people I care about, but I am really, really bad about letter writing.

I have a box full of custom Christmas cards at home. We sent out six. For everyone I love (and you know who you are) if you didn’t get a card from me, it’s not for lack of forethought. I just suck at letters. It’s not something I’m proud of, or something I’m totally happy with, but there it is.

Want to know something I’m damn good at? Challenges.

Which I why I was so excited when the lovely Alisa pointed out a recent post on Mary Robinette Kowal’s blog. She proposes a challenge (how I love that word) to send something out in the post, every day it’s running. Now, February is a shorter month, and it has a holiday to boot, so this ends up being only 24 items. Yes, items. It doesn’t have to be a letter. It doesn’t even have to make sense. But the point is that you’re reaching out into your world with something tangible, something real. Even if that something is only a decorated envelope.

Still counts.

So I, and many others, are taking up Mary’s call to write, and striding into February looking forward to ink stains, hand cramps, and stationery shopping. You can even sign up at the official website here.

(Note to self–go stationery shopping. ASAP.)

On a related note, by stroke of coincidence my lovely paramour has written on the same topic today. He has a longer, more sustainable outlook on letter writing.

Anyone interested in getting getting a letter, or a cross-stitch sample, or a lock of hair (depending on my mood) sometime in February, leave me a comment with a way to get in touch, or email me your home address.

I promise, I won’t stalk you. No, not even if you ask nicely.

 

*photo used under Creative Commons license from donovanbeeson

 
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Posted by on January 30, 2012 in not writing, social, writing

 

Gut-Wrenching Romance

23 Jan

This weekend my boss went to Laser Quest with his ten year old son. That’s a weird way to start a blog post about romance, but there it is.

(Fun fact–my first romance novel was inspired by something my boss said.)

The romance doesn’t come from my boss, or his son, or even Laser Quest, really. But those things spurred my thinking.

I’ve played laser tag exactly once in my life. It was a snowy, winter evening in Colorado, and I was a teenager.  A lovelorn teenager, as was typical for me in that time of my life. I don’t remember the game very much. It’s all a blur of shadows and neon, pretzels and Pepsi.

What I do remember is the ride home.

I sat in the back seat. The object of my (at the time) eternal love and devotion sat in the seat directly in front of me. I could see the way his neck sloped into the collar of his jacket, the fringe of blonde hair, his freckles. All of this, so close, just six inches of foam and a million miles away.

Right before I started high school my parents moved to the middle of nowhere. This meant that any kind of activity that involved driving into ‘the city’ inevitably entailed a long car ride, half an hour at least. Throw in snow, and a bunch of teenagers happy to be away from home, and the drive can easily streeeeeetch out.

At some point during this drive, and don’t ask me how because for the life of me I cannot remember, my hand wound up on his shoulder, and his hand wound up on mine.

That’s it, folks.

But for a girl full of butterflies and self-doubt like myself, that touch was a revelation. I survived on the memory of that touch for months, because after that, affection was not very forthcoming from that particular arena. It was the MO of our interactions, from where I stood. A dance that I won’t describe here, and now.

So there I was, this morning, eleven years after the fact, folding hospital gowns, thinking about how cute it was that my boss played laser tag (and schooled the younger kids, apparently) and wham, this memory hits and for a moment I am breathless. I pause. I look around, and consciously reorient myself. Because the emotions attached to that memory were life and death, end of the world stuff.

And isn’t that what being a teenager is about?

I’m revising my YA fantasy novel right now. As I recently told a friend I need more Bad Guy, more Self-Sabotage, and more Romance.

I need more of what I felt, remembering that long winter drive. I need the truth of it, injected into my character’s relationships. And maybe, I’ll let Sydney get what she wants.

At least, for a little while.

Our work needs these intense emotional experiences. Have you been working on anything lately that forces you to face these deeper, possibly buried, emotions?

Photo used under creative commons license from kreg.steppe

 
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Posted by on January 23, 2012 in discovery, writing

 

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From Idea to Story: Thoughts and Exercises

12 Jan

This post was inspired by my new Tumblr, where I’ll be throwing things that inspire me. If you want a peek inside my brain hole, feel free to click on over.

Creative people are often asked where they get their ideas from. I think anyone who has been writing for a while will know what a strange question this is, though I admit to having asked the same thing myself a few times. The question usually isn’t–where do the ideas come from? It’s more, how do I use these ideas, and make them more than snippets? How do I flesh this scrap out, build it into something that will move people, delight people, intrigue and excite people?

JK Rowling said she had the first bits of her ideas about Harry Potter when she was on a long train ride. She didn’t have any pen or paper with her, and so she was forced to mull these ideas over in her head, stringing things together for hours on end without the benefit of being able to put anything down in black and white. Her method, whether by intention or because of circumstance, was essentially daydreaming. Prolonged periods of daydreaming. And I think that is the root of the creative process. We have to give ourselves room to dream. And then we have to anchor those dreams to some kind of reality.

So how did this wildly successful author come up with her ideas? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she took them and created a world out of them. And there are at least as many ways to do this as there are authors. I’m still finding my method, that tried-and-true process that works every time.

I think I’m on a wild goose chase. I’m sure as I grow both as a writer and as a person, what works fr me will change. But that’s good! It forces me to try new things, and occasionally stumble upon something new. And the whole point of being alive is to learn, to live, to grow.

Here are a few things that work for me right now. Who knows? Maybe they’ll spur something in you, too.

Creating Characters From People

It’s cheating. I know. But it’s the best and worst kind of cheating there is. We all know people with idiosyncrasies that drive us up the wall, or make us want to study them like animals in a lab. Or something like that. And when it comes to creating believable, interesting characters you could do a whole lot worse than picking them from the ripe field that is your life.

Now, I’m not recommending trying to put Dad into your story whole cloth. That won’t work. It can’t. Human beings are so intricate and complicated that any facsimile we try to create will inevitably come out forced. Instead, try inserting Dad’s laconic nature into the best friend of your main character. Or his love of puzzles into the villain. In doing this, you inject something familiar into this character. You’ll know, from experience, how this aspect of a personality works, and it will be easier to conjecture. And by using just one piece of the person, you avoid the “OMG you put me in your book and I’m a jerk! What do you think of me?” problem.

Who is This Going to Hurt Most?

So you’ve got this awesome idea for a world where people literally share one heart, and if they don’t find their mate before a certain age they start to die. Great. Now, you go to choose a main character and–you find the middle-aged woman comfortably married with three children who have been linked with their mates since birth. Hmm…I could think of a couple of ways you could use this woman, but I don’t think she’s MC material for this story.

How about the CEO of a company in charge of finding people’s mates? If he fails, well, there goes his commission! Again, not a strong candidate.

Or how about the girl who’s fallen in love with her best friend, who gets murdered. And then she finds out her mate is the guy responsible for the murder. Now this has potential.

Who does your idea hurt? How can you make it hurt worse? I’ve mentioned this here before, and it applies as much today as it did a hundred years ago and will a hundred years in the future–put your character in a tree and throw rocks at them. But before you get them up there, find the character who has trouble climbing trees, find the character with thin skin, the character scared of heights and projectiles. The connections will start coming, growing like sinews between pieces of your ideas until you have something vaguely story shaped.

Randomize

Then, if you get really stuck, do something crazy. This is an exercise borrowed and tweaked from Holly Lisle (who has a whole, comprehensive course about how to take an idea and make it into a book).

Take a magazine. Rip out a bunch of pictures. Scatter them over your floor. Start throwing things at your impromptu collage. A penny will do. Wherever that penny lands, let that inform your next scene.

For example, let’s say you’re writing a far-future hard SF. I have no experience in this genre, so excuse any unintentional foot-in-mouthing I may commit. You’ve just massacred an issue of Vogue, so you have a spread of watch ads, fashion shoots, and the like. Your penny lands on this*:

Congratulations! Your characters have just discovered a new alien race! Or perhaps that trunk she’s sitting on contains the WMD your hero will have to wrest from the grips of evil. Or this is the villain disguised as your hero’s long-lost sister, dropping in for a none too friendly visit. There are a dozen ways you can take this particular picture, easy, and this picture is pretty…well, boring.

The ideas are everywhere. It’s the connective fibers that are harder to come by.

*photo ripped shamelessly from the internets.

Also, I’m not affiliated with anyone. Any links are free from outside influence.

 
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Posted by on January 12, 2012 in creating, planning, writing

 

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Review of Alma Katsu’s “The Taker”

02 Jan

An added benefit of my time at ClarionWest was all the free books I got. Every week we would have a drawing, and Les and Neile would pass out ARCs and donated books, along with a healthy dose of random Archie McPhee goodies. (I’ve got those ubiquitous octo-fingers in mind here.)

Since I live in Seattle, and I am rather eclectic (and ravenous) with my reading, I was in the lucky position of being able to take care of books that my overseas classmates were hesitant to pack up and fly home. The Taker, by Alma Katsu, is one of these books. And I must say, I’m glad I took the gamble.

The Taker is a story weaved within a story, with an extra story thrown in for good measure.

We start with Luke, a downtrodden doctor in a little town in Massachusetts, who makes the acquaintance of an arresting young woman, Lanny, brought to his hospital under police custody. She’s covered in blood, beautiful, and disarming.

Throughout the book, Luke’s story (told in 3rd person, present) mingles with Lanny’s story (told in 1st person, past). Only–wait for it–Lanny is immortal! Katsu takes us through the tale of Lanny’s transformation, her heartache over her one true love, and the darkness that came with being granted what so many wish for.

The third story, plopped in the middle of the book, explores the transformation of the man who gave Lanny her immortality, a Magyar peasant by the name of Adair.

This book is haunting, dark, sexy. In truth it reminds me a lot of Interview With a Vampire, in the best way. The overall mood is contemplative and sad, without being sentimental. The history is rich and varied. The settings are both familiar and utterly obscure. I admit, I have never read a book set in the early 1800′s, in a tiny logging town out in the nether reaches of Massachusetts.

(I especially like when Katsu overlays Lanny’s memories of her hometown with the reality of modern day St. Andrew.)

I would recommend this book if you are in the mood for something quiet, and quietly engaging. The pace is a bit slow at times, but I think that fits with the language, and this kind of story-telling. For a debut novel, I am thoroughly impressed, and I’m excited to see what Katsu does next.

Also, I must add, I am SO much more enthused about the UK cover. I would snap that puppy up in a heartbeat. As it was, this book languished on my bookshelf for about three months, before I bothered reading the jacket copy and got all excited. Though, I think the US cover fits the actual story better. Oh, dilemma.

 
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Posted by on January 2, 2012 in reading, review

 

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First Publication! And Happy New Year!

31 Dec

Yeesh. It’s been nearly a month since I last posted, and I don’t even have NaNoWriMo to blame.

All that aside, I have excellent news! My short story “The Nightmare Eater” has been published and released by The Colored Lens. You can download it and read it (among several other surely excellent stories) here.

This is my first official publication! I have another story coming out early next year, but this one…dang. It’s a cool feeling. Like, very shiny and fluttery. It is the first step on my path to total world dominion! (Or a publishing deal that will keep me in fish&chips and gin for the rest of my natural life.)It’s nice to be going into 2012 with a notch in my belt. I think it bodes well for the year.

This is a big one, guys. If everything goes according to our plans, by this time next year I will be writing from a tiny apartment somewhere in Japan. Caleb will be doing what he loves, and I will have more time than ever to devote to that whole fish&chips aspiration. With the new year comes the expectation of resolutions. I’m personally not a fan of resolutions, as I see them more like ongoing actions than things to be achieved. Which is good and all, but I’m much better at getting things accomplished when I have goals. Do XYZ by 123, or x number of times per month/week/year.

(Confession: When I was younger, probably between the ages of 11 and 16, one recurring resolution that I dutifully scrawled in my diary was :Be nicer. I have since abandoned that resolution. Now, pardon me while I eat your face.)

But goals! I do well with goals. And I’ve got a few good ones lined up for the coming twelve months, a few of which I’ll share with you here.

  • Revise “The Absinthe Gang” and start querying editors.
  • Learn enough conversational Japanese to get by.
  • Use the perfumist and herbalist classes I signed up for.
  • Write a short story using some of what I learned in aforementioned classes.
  • Keep track of my reading. I’m thinking I’ll either utilize GoodReads more, or keep a spreadsheet.

There are more, because I’m nothing if not ambitious. I’m going into 2012 focused on my writing and on Japan, which is similar to where I was last year. Only now I’ve been through ClarionWest, I have my first publishing cred with another in the works, and Caleb has applied to JET (!). It’s interesting, seeing things move forward like this. For a while, aspects of my life felt stationary. Writing, for example. After letting my mad skillz lie fallow for several years, it took a while for me to get back to where I’d been, and then another long while before I was anywhere decent. I know I still have a long way to go, and that I will always find something new to learn, but it is crazy heartening to see how far I’ve come.

I’m not the only one kicking ass and taking names. Click here to check out fellow CW alum Jenni’s post on the awesomeness that is my class of ClarionWest. Mega fist bump!

How have you progressed this last year? What goals are you setting for the coming year?

Photo used under creative commons license from: graciepoo

 
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Posted by on December 31, 2011 in career, discovery, planning

 

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The Pot of Gold at the End of the WriMo

03 Dec

Wow. It’s December. 32 days ago, it felt like this month would never get here, and now that I’ve just flipped over my calendars, it seems like November was little more than a speeding blur. One more Thanksgiving cooked and eaten, one more Black Friday assiduously avoided…one more NaNoWriMo over and done.

And this year, for me, it actually is done.

Both of the books I’ve written during this mad dash have ended up taking me through December and into January to finish. (Zero draft, of course.) With all the writing I do anyway, the 50k word goal felt too easy. NaNoWriMo is supposed to be a challenge, and for me, writing a complete novel would be that level of challenge.

(This is not to say NaNo has never been challenging, oh no. That first year I didn’t think I was going to make it. I had one hair-raising weekend that, for my unseasoned fingers, felt like aLOTof writing. Now, the 8k word weekend just feels like…well, a lot of writing. No emphasis.)

In that challenge, I technically failed. The Absinthe Gang/Toulouse was not finished until approximately 7 pm on December 1st.

And the heavens quailed.

I could have done things differently. I could have taken fewer days off writing. I could have bought Freedom and turned my internet off. I could have slept less. But I didn’t, and I’m okay with that. In fact, I am very happy. There were a few times this past month where I got very close to quitting. Writing is hard, yo! But through a combination of husbandly pep talks and dogged persistence I broke through, and found my way to the end.

Not the perfect ending. That’s what January is for. But an ending, nonetheless. And that, I think, is the first step towards being a writer, a pro. Finishing.

Because you can’t edit a blank page.

How was your November?

Total wordcount: 88,212

Excerpt:

Normal. Everything felt normal.

Except that she was trembling, that her stomach was gripped in a series of knots even a sailor wouldn’t be able to unwind, that she was still clutching Aunt Hazel’s book and that her face hurt as if someone had taken a meat tenderizer to it. Someone had, in a way. She took a step toward Mahinder. He didn’t respond. She took another step.

He moaned and curled into a ball, his face hidden in his arms.

She dropped the book and ran to his side.

“Mahinder?” She knelt beside him, touched his shoulder. “Are you okay? Please be okay. I didn’t—“

 

Photo used under creative commons license from ]babi]’s

 
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Posted by on December 3, 2011 in NaNoWriMo, writing

 

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I am a turtle…with jetpacks

28 Nov


Including today, there are three days left inside the window of NaNoWriMo. I ran into a fellow NaNoer at a coffee shop yesterday, who intended to write 10,000 words before he went home. This is the time when that kind of mad creation comes to the forefront, with writers who’ve been behind for days (or weeks) hook up an intravenous coffee drip and bust out the Visine and the plot twists.

I do not count myself in this camp. That kind of burst writing might work for some, but I can’t begin to fathom the process: going from not writing at all, or hardly at all, only to throw yourself at a ten thousand word day seems like some special kind of torture.

I am a turtle. On rollerskates. With a jetpack. That is to say, I like to go at a steady rate, one day after another, until I get to the end. My rate for this book has been fast, even for me, but regular. I work best with habits. Coffee (or tea if I’m feeling wild), cup of water, chapstick, Pandora, headphones, a seat at a table where I can see all my enemies the people in the coffee shop. This is my ideal. Not the only time I can write, but I think my most productive times.

I have a friend who has written a couple screenplays, but hasn’t sat down to write in quite some time. He says getting past that initial hurdle is the hardest part. Once he gets the ball rolling, sitting down to write becomes another part of the day–a habit–but until then nary a word is expressed via type. And I tell him, every time we talk about writing, that consistency is key.

You hear it pretty much wherever you go looking for writing advice: Write every day. Give yourself a time, a setting, and get some words down. It could be 100, or 1,000 or 10. The act of writing is self-propagating. When you write a few word, the next few tumble out. When you sit down at your desk for ten minutes, you find yourself writing for twelve. And then fifteen. And after a month, or a year, or whatever it needs to be, you have yourself a novel, or a short story, or a memoir, or a damn good exercise that will inform future writing.

I use NaNoWriMo as a tool, an extra incentive to get my ass securely in chair and work towards a goal, utilizing a month’s worth of community and outside pressure to achieve it. Note that extra. Because when it’s not November, the ass is still in the chair. The writing is still getting done. And I think that is so, so important, regardless of whether you’re a burst writer or a turtle. (Jetpacks optional.)

So try this, in December and beyond into that shiny new year: Give yourself time, and space, to create. Whether it’s writing, or painting, or underwater basket weaving, set aside a time either every day, or once a week, when you can devote say…ten minutes to your endeavor. And then keep doing that. Put it in your calendar. Send yourself an email alert. Tell everyone what your intentions are.(Peer pressure is powerful. Haven’t you seen the after-school specials?) Be unabashedly, rabidly jealous of that time, even if it’s only ten minutes. No, especially if. Those are your minutes. Make something beautiful happen.

Any tips and tricks for getting in the habit of creating?

And here’s a nice post from fellow CW alum about the power of writing with others.

Total word count: 78,112

Today’s words: zed (but yesterday was a healthy 3.5k)

Excerpt from yesterday:

“It runs in the family. Didn’t you know that crazy’s in the blood?” Gunshot girl shoved Garland away from Sydney. “You owe us a new flask.”

“And a bottle of vodka,” Alan said.

“What’s going on?” Noah stepped up, Bryan at his shoulder. Both looked just as ready to hit someone, as they were to make peace.

“Your whack job sister ruined my flask.” Alan threw the bent silver container at Bryan. It hit his chest and clattered to the floor. Drops of liquid darkened Bryan’s embroidered shirt. The crowd around them started to move back. Bryan looked down and nudged the flask with his toe. Then he plucked at his shirt and sniffed the damp spots. He raised his eyebrow at Alan.

“No outside food or drinks,” he said. “You should go, before I kick you out.”

“You can’t kick me out.” Alan’s voice was shrill. “Who do you think you are?”

“You should go.” The voice came from behind Sydney. Kenneth pushed her and Bryan gently out of the way and stood in front of Alan and his friends.

“What are you, her dad?” Alan sneered, but he stepped back.

“I’m giving you to the count of three, and then we’ll get the police involved.” Kenneth crossed his arms. “One…”

“You can’t threaten me.”

“Two…”

“Come on, Alan.” Gunshot girl pulled on Alan’s shirt. He shrugged her off.

“Three.”

 

Photo used under creative commons license from rebelwriterX.

 
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Posted by on November 28, 2011 in NaNoWriMo, writing

 

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On Rejuvenation: NaNoWriMo Day 19

19 Nov

Isn't he handsome?

This Thursday I took a scheduled day off from writing. Not just from writing, but from everything that involved using a computer. For the entire day, my laptop stayed shut, its secrets sealed away while I indulged in all the things that writing 3,000+ words a day leaves little room for.

I read half of a book. Graveminder by Melissa Marr, for those who are interested. I made a yummy breakfast of bacon and eggs (nearly smoking my roommates out in the process). I spent a full hour and a half getting ready for an evening out, which included a nice long shower, carefully chosen clothes and more makeup than I’m used to. (My husband said I was pretty. But he always says that. *grin*)

Then we battled traffic heading into town and dropped into a record store to buy some music. Automatic by VNV Nation and Talk About Body by MEN. (Again, in case you were curious. Also, a note for Le Tigre fans–MEN is front by JD Samson.) After which we headed further south to catch one of only four showings in Seattle of Steve Jobs: A Lost Interview.

This presentation was an interview Steve Jobs gave for Channel Four something or other back in 1995, for an interview series they ran back then. Only a portion of the interview was shown at the time, and then the master tape was promptly lost, and everyone involved assumed the interview would be lost forever. Fast forward to..sometime recently. In a garage, a VHS tae with this interview is discovered, and eventually released into the world.

If you get the chance, go see this interview. Steve Jobs is charming and funny and crazy inspiring. He talks about his motivations behind making Apple products so fantastic, the difficulties he went through when leaving Apple, and why he thinks superlative products can help our country rediscover its culture, among other things. The interview, by the way, took place one year before Jobs’ company was bought by Apple, and he went back to working for the company.

The day, as a whole, was a round success.

I think it is extremely important for people who create to occasionally schedule an entire day away from their creative works. Not an accidental “I didn’t get work done today”, but a real, conscientious effort to put some space there, and then fill that space with things the benefit and enrich. There have been plenty of times when I’ve had a ‘day off’ purely by happenstance. One thing leads to another and suddenly I have no motivation and/or the day is over. Without exception, those days make me feel lethargic, regretful and bored.

My Thursday off, on the other hand, was anything but boring.

We need to feed creativity; it can’t exist in a vacuum. Art, books, music, interactions with people and with the beauty of the world–all of these things serve to pump fuel into the creative engine, giving you more to work with when you do come back to the computer or the page or the easel.

What’s your favorite way to get rejuvenated?

Though I’m sure this isn’t the original source, this photo was used through Creative Commons License from Dekuwa.

 
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Posted by on November 19, 2011 in NaNoWriMo, not writing

 

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