tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53149449654324734012024-03-13T04:11:25.274-07:00Of Life, Loves, and Literary Pursuitspdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.comBlogger173125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-78937895798312751692016-11-01T18:38:00.000-07:002016-11-01T18:38:30.349-07:00Taking TimeNovember first. It's hard to believe the calendar has once again spun round to this date and yet, ready or not, here we are.<br />
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For me the past seven years the month of November has been defined not by the anniversary of my birth or Thanksgiving, but by National Novel Writing Month (otherwise known as NaNoWriMo). Every year that I have participated, I have come away a "winner," having written the required 50,000 words (and a grand total nearing 400,000!).<br />
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Each time I showed myself what pure magic transpires when you dedicate the time and space to stringing words together to tell a sustained story. These years of participation have taught me so many life altering lessons...about myself, my writing, about telling stories.<br />
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This year will be different. I will not be writing a novel this month.<br />
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I won't lie, there is a sadness that has intertwined itself with this decision and there were many moments when I asked myself, "Are you sure? I mean, are you <i>really</i> sure?"<br />
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But the answer I always fell back to was the same.<br />
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Not this year.<br />
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There are a handful of solid and rational whys, but the most important one has to do with the writing itself.<br />
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So while I won't be participating in the grand adventure that is NaNoWriMo, I will still be writing and working towards the goals I have set for myself.<br />
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I raise a glass to all of you who have taken on the challenge and wish you all the best. You're awesome and the world needs your story!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Godspeed, dear NaNoWriMos</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-43307674944182217402016-05-15T09:13:00.000-07:002016-05-15T09:13:29.327-07:00Farewell, my PrinceGrowing up, I had two separate lives. There was my school life, with one set of friends and family, and then there was my summer life, with different friends, a different family, in a different part of the country. There were times I felt like two separate people, these lives were so at odds.<br />
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In one, we were poor and indulgences were few and far between. The other left me feeling spoiled, like I could have everything my heart desired, where fridges were full and there were weekly trips to the mall, where I was allowed to choose things to take home. I almost always got music or books, reading <i>Anne of Green Gables, Sweet Valley High, </i>listening to Madonna. In one world I was often left home alone, the apartment my domain. In the other I was surrounded by grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, the Morman family next door with their eight kids, including one of the best friends I would ever know. In that world I had the run of two towns, where I could cross state lines on my bike all day long.<br />
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It was my summer life in Minnesota that first introduced me to Prince. His Minnesota connection made the state embrace him in a way the rest of the world just couldn't. His songs were always on the radio. MTV played his videos all the time. When <i>1999 </i>came out in 1982 I was at the age where I was beginning to discover music on my own terms. His voice, his music, became a part of the very person I would become. (Even if, at the time, the true meaning of the lyrics were completely missed by my young mind.)<br />
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<i>When Doves Cry</i> was the song I chose when I did karaoke for the first time. Prince's soundtrack to the 1989 <i>Batman</i> was the sole reason I was obsessed with the movie, (and possibly its best quality). To date, whenever I hear the opening notes to <i>Raspberry Beret </i>or <i>Batdance </i>I am instantly transported to the red house on 14th Street whose living room saw all my best dance moves.<br />
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Last month I was back in Minnesota, taking care of my grandmother who is fighting her battle with cancer. We were at the Roger Maris Cancer Center for appointments and treatments on April 21st. The infusion was going to take several hours and so while she rested I went for a walk to get some food. When I returned, Fox News was on and a few minutes later they broke in with the announcement of Prince's death.<br />
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At first I was stunned. In my mind he is forever the twenty-something talking about the girl who walked in through the out door. How could he possibly be dead? Wasn't he one of the few who would live forever?<br />
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And I guess, it is a truth that being an artist does make you an immortal. Even after the last breath, the body of work the artist leaves behind will continue living its own life.<br />
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I watched the news, already emotional because the appointment with the doctor had not gone as well as we'd hoped, grateful to have the camouflage for my tears. <br />
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On Facebook and Twitter I watched as the news began to spread through my friends and celebrities, all the artists and writers I follow. I was not the only one whose life had been influenced by Prince. His admirers were widespread and there were many responses and many tributes.<br />
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That night I sat by myself in the living room, the same living room in the red house where I'd watched countless Prince videos growing up. I watched as MTV played video after video, including live performances. I scrolled through social media, feeling less alone as I began to grieve the death of someone I had never met, knowing that the emotions inside me were twisted and tangled, about more than the loss of one great artist. I came across the following tweet by @ElusiveJ:<br />
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Thinking about how we mourn artists we've never met. We don't cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves.</blockquote>
What a profound truth in less than 140 characters.<br />
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It is no exaggeration that books and music have saved my life, have made me a better human being, have taught me empathy, have broadened my world view, have allowed me to experience things far beyond my own life. Music has pulled me out of what Anne (of Green Gables) would call "the depths of despair."<br />
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Even in a world without Prince, I know that in the dark days that are yet to come, that are forever haunting the horizon, I will still have his music and it will make me dance, it will make me smile, and it will remind me there is always hope and always inspiration.<br />
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"I've seen the future and it will be<br /> I've seen the future and it works<br /> And if there's life after, we will see<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> So I can't go like a jerk"</span></blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching MTV's tribute to Prince, April 21st, 2016</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-4065318638819161992015-12-06T09:56:00.000-08:002015-12-06T09:56:19.765-08:00A Brief Sort of Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The last week has been a whirlwind of good, bad, and just about everything in between. One of those good things was "winning" NaNoWriMo 2015. As you might recollect, I started this year's endeavor promising myself I would simply try. If that didn't work out, I told told myself I could quit.<br />
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The good news is, I didn't. I wrote every day until the end and in the process created a delightfully complex and interesting character that I am sure I will come back to some day. Her name is Georgia and she was both fun and challenging to write for.<br />
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But the really good news is that I had loved doing the work. The other good news is that I re-instilled some necessary creative habits. I am going to do my damnedest to stick with them.<br />
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<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-59310043906494318902015-11-15T07:55:00.000-08:002015-11-15T07:55:59.483-08:00Halfway PointAt the beginning of the year I started using stickers as a way to motivate and document my writing days. It was an idea I'd adopted from Laini Taylor (<a href="http://www.lainitaylor.com/2013/10/word-count-calendar-of-cuteness.html" target="_blank">see here</a>). Let's say the last few months have had more blank spaces than Taylor Swift.<br />
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But not November.<br />
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November has been <i>exactly</i> what I needed it to be.<br />
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It has been the kick in the pants I needed to do the work, to reestablish routines.<br />
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It has been fun.<br />
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It has been surprising.<br />
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It has been challenging.<br />
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I have been inspired and delighted. <br />
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25,230 words in and I am so happy. I look forward to sitting down each day to see how this story progresses, to see what my characters have in store, what twists and turns they'll take me on.<br />
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This story is very much about music and love songs and how they shape and define our ideas about love, from the time we are small children to the time we fall in love for real and for the first time. There is a soundtrack I've been building to slowly accompany these words and each day I look forward to seeing what song will find its way to my story.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So far.</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-40937127834689317632015-10-30T08:01:00.001-07:002015-10-30T14:06:39.762-07:00To NaNo or Not To NaNo (that seems to be the question)This past year my blogs have been few and far between. I've narrowed the cause to several likely culprits, some more serious than others. It's been a challenging year and one that has caused me to pause and focus inward, to withdraw from public view, to be quiet. Instead of sharing my life and my loves here, I've kicked it old school with a journal and the satisfying scratch of pen on paper. I've been writing selfishly, not publicly.<br />
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It's been a time filled with reading*, writing, traveling, listening to music. I've been to some amazing concerts and the happiest place on earth (Hogwarts, duh!). I've been inspired and challenged by some amazing writers. I've walked hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles. I've laughed to the point of tears and cried to the point where I felt hollow. It's been a year that has changed me.<br />
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Now, somehow, it is the very end of October with National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) visible on the horizon. Months and months ago I had grand plans to be at a different point in the editing process with the project I've been working on. I wanted to have this version done by the end of September so I could spend October planning what I would work on in November.<br />
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But then, life. And this time it wasn't a question of time. I had time. I had more of it in some ways than I had been expecting. What I didn't have was the mental and emotional space to do the work. After much internal debate, I decided to give myself a break.<br />
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A few people have asked me if I was planning to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. My answer has been, "Probably not." I have said things about how I don't want to start something new when I still have so much work on my current project. I've talked about how I don't want to make the same mistakes I've made before when it comes to the issues of Story and Plot. I've said that I will use this time to edit.<br />
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Probably.<br />
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What a wishy washy kind of word, lacking in conviction and commitment.<br />
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Last week, while I was writing in my journal and thinking about what it would be like not to participate in NaNoWriMo for the first time since I started (2009), I came across an idea. It's one that I've imagined before, a kind of experimental type of piece and the more I wrote about it the more excited I became and the more I thought that maybe participating would be the best thing for me and my writing, the best way to get me back into my daily habits of writing/editing.<br />
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I told myself to give it a week and see if the idea grew any roots.<br />
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I reminded myself of this Ben Folds inspired <a href="http://oflifelovesandliterarypursuits.blogspot.com/2012/10/do-it-anyway.html" target="_blank">post</a> I wrote in 2012 when I was debating the very same should I/shouldn't I question. <br />
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Seven days have passed and there hasn't been a day I haven't thought about this idea and all the ways it might be exactly the project my writing life needs.<br />
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Here is an unsolicited truth about me: I don't give myself permission to fail.<br />
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That truth has been a double edged sword my entire life. It's held me back just as much as it's pushed me forward.<br />
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What does it mean for NaNoWriMo? In the past it has meant that if I start, I can't quit halfway through. I'm either in or I'm out. If I sign up, I'm going to find a way to finish, to hit 50k no matter what.<br />
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This year, I think I'm going to do something different. I'm going to try. And if that turns out to be a mistake, I'm giving myself permission to fail.<br />
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*A list of a few favorites from this year include: <i>Saint Anything</i> by Sarah Dessen, <i>Bone Gap</i> by Laura Ruby, <i>The Game of Love and Death</i> by Martha Brockenbrough<i>, The Wrath & the Dawn</i> by Renee Ahdieh, <i>George</i> by Alex Gino, <i>Where'd You Go Bernadette</i> by Maria Semple,<i> After You </i>by Jojo Moyes (see <a href="http://oflifelovesandliterarypursuits.blogspot.com/2013/09/a-book-recommendation.html" target="_blank">this blog re: the first book</a>), <i>The Rest of Us Just Live Here </i>by Patrick Ness,<i> Illuminae </i>by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff<i>, </i>and <i>Six of Crows</i> by Leigh Bardugo. Yes, this list is YA heavy, but some of the most interesting story telling is definitely happening in this category.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking among the fallen.</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-43739005444530120802015-07-04T12:57:00.000-07:002015-07-04T12:57:31.925-07:00The Legend of Zelda My whole life I wanted a dog to call my own. But I grew up in apartment buildings until I was in high school and was never allowed to have one of my own. I had other pets (birds and hamsters), but never a dog. Then ten years ago we moved into our very first house and a handful of months later my husband and I found ourselves on a Sunday afternoon visiting the Oregon Humane Society, "just to look."<br />
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We wandered through the sanitized tiled hallways and chain metal gates, peeking in at the dogs held within. We noticed immediately there seemed to be two kinds of dogs. There were the kind who hid in the very back, quiet and somewhat scared, and the kind who ran right up to the door, demanding your attention. We saw plenty of nice looking dogs, but there wasn't one that called to us until we saw a third kind.<br />
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Zelda (or "Brandy" as she was previously named) was sitting towards the back of the kennel until we walked up. She looked at us, stood up, and slowly made her way to where we were standing. We held out our hands. She smelled them and then sat down, leaning into us. (Those who know Zelda know this to be a thing that she did, the leaning against you while she sat beside you.)<br />
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This was a dog we wanted to meet. Arrangements were made to bring the three of us into a meet-and-greet space where we could interact. There is supposed to be a person from the Humane Society who waits there with you, but ours left, saying she'd be right back. She never came back. We played with Zelda for a really long time. She was sweet, kind, chill, patient, and listened. All good things. Erik and I decided we wanted to see about adopting her. <br />
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We took her home that day and she became a part of our family, fitting in as if she was the last piece of a puzzle we'd been working on for a really long time. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day we brought her home. </td></tr>
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It's been nearly three weeks since we lost our Zelda. As anyone who has loved a dog with their whole heart knows, it's been a really tough time. I've been at a complete loss for words. (Which is why, unless you've brought Zelda up in a recent conversation, it is unlikely that you've heard about her passing.) Even now, it's hard to write these words, to tell this story, without watering eyes and a lump in my throat.<br />
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At the end of April, I took Zelda in for her annual exam and the vet noticed a lump on her skull and told us it was likely an osteosarcoma. She told me it was hard to predict how it would progress and that there was very little that could be done to treat it. I went home and cried and then went to work.<br />
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And then I went on to cherish every walk, every snuggle, every kiss, every chin scratch, and every play bow. I appreciated the time I spent with her in a whole new way. I gave her all the love I could and then a little bit more.<br />
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Six and a half weeks later, she was gone. We took her to Dove Lewis when she wouldn't eat or get out of bed. They found tumors in her lungs, spleen, and probably other organs as well. It was time to let her go. She was in pain and there weren't options to make her better.<br />
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It was one of the toughest choices I've ever had to make and I am so grateful for Erik that I didn't have to make it alone. <br />
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I miss her every day in a thousand different ways. I miss her nose on the side of the bed after she's heard me stirring in the morning, silently begging for me to get up and start the day. I miss the sound of a tortilla chip in her mouth after I've "accidentally" dropped it on the floor. I miss snuggling with her after a tough day. I miss afternoons spent reading/sleeping in the sunshine. I miss the wagging tail, welcoming me home. I miss her persistent stare when she has deemed it is time for food/walking. I miss the sound of her heavy sighs and the sounds she'd make while she was sleeping.<br />
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Zelda was an awesome dog and I feel so lucky for the ten years we spent together. Some day I know we'll find another dog who will bring us great joy, but Zelda will always be my first, best dog, and will always hold that special place in my heart. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Favorite bench for summertime naps.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow day! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes it's nice to hold paws.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm ready.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SJciaS84ZbQ/VZgmdky_QgI/AAAAAAAAAjI/oASYj5cpMNU/s640/blogger-image-2115981833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SJciaS84ZbQ/VZgmdky_QgI/AAAAAAAAAjI/oASYj5cpMNU/s200/blogger-image-2115981833.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A tiny ball in the sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hK__5E8NLDc/VZgmlmHH2tI/AAAAAAAAAj4/I5PWhr2bozI/s640/blogger-image-501367140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hK__5E8NLDc/VZgmlmHH2tI/AAAAAAAAAj4/I5PWhr2bozI/s320/blogger-image-501367140.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That nose!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M1VJxnuGgH0/VZgmfpQ-4dI/AAAAAAAAAjY/RBJdfVjBGXg/s640/blogger-image--1810623336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M1VJxnuGgH0/VZgmfpQ-4dI/AAAAAAAAAjY/RBJdfVjBGXg/s200/blogger-image--1810623336.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Favorite toy. A gift from Uncle Ben.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1wL_NNhDcRw/VZg0Kg8rZjI/AAAAAAAAAkg/W91llNQqCbs/s640/blogger-image-1652571826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1wL_NNhDcRw/VZg0Kg8rZjI/AAAAAAAAAkg/W91llNQqCbs/s400/blogger-image-1652571826.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What do you mean I'm not supposed to be here?</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-50870041853264919472015-01-25T09:25:00.000-08:002015-01-25T09:40:13.784-08:00Taking Flight<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Magpie comes a calling</i><br />
<i>Drops a marble from the sky</i><br />
<i>Tin roof sounds alarming</i><br />
<i>"Wake up child."</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Let this be a warning,"</i><br />
<i>says the magpie to the morning</i>,<br />
<i>"Don't let this fading summer pass you by.</i><br />
<i>Don't let this fading summer pass you by."</i></blockquote>
from <i>Magpie to the Morning</i> by Neko Case <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
While yesterday bathed in sunshine, this morning has slipped into a heavy coat of fog. Out the window the trees are hazy, distant, their lines are soft and blurred before they disappear into the endless gray of sky. What a difference a day can make.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I walked and walked and walked. I listened to song after song, matching my footsteps to the kicked beats of bass drums. I let the winter sun tell me it was spring. I watched the black bird bounce from barren tree branch to barren tree branch. I sat on wooden benches. I stepped on soft, wet grass, concrete. I closed my eyes to dream.<br />
<br />
I bought an hour glass, a symbol to remind me to sit in the chair, to put fingers on keys, to build words into stories.<br />
<br />
It worked. I came home and lost several hours to the process of working. It was one of the most productive writing days I've had in ages.<br />
<br />
Progress.<br />
<br />
Today I wake up compelled, inspired to try again. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*Months ago I went to social media to help me generate a list of songs about birds for my book. This was not one that came up, but yesterday it found me and knocked me flat. It is perfect in so many glorious ways.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a8hdjQV6Bes/VMUfdml3nRI/AAAAAAAAAhw/YBYrp3tl5cM/s640/blogger-image-1724186217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a8hdjQV6Bes/VMUfdml3nRI/AAAAAAAAAhw/YBYrp3tl5cM/s640/blogger-image-1724186217.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signs of life.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-50891497499447087032015-01-09T15:10:00.001-08:002015-01-09T15:26:41.094-08:00Death, Doubt, and Beginning AgainI look around and see all the discarded words that have collected in corners, like the tumbleweeds of dust and dog hair that gather in a house with hardwood floors. I look at them and I see a rare blend of hope and despair, of potential and paralyzing doubt.<br />
<br />
I haven't posted a blog in nearly two months and until today I hadn't opened my novel since November 29th, 2014, the day the odometer rolled past 50,000 words.<br />
<br />
My intention was to update my progress, to share the triumphs and missteps as I worked through this latest revision, but then there was a death in the family and I found myself on a plane, derailed from the track I was on, thirty thousand feet in the air when I expected to have my feet firmly on the ground.<br />
<br />
Something changed then, in life and in my writing.<br />
<br />
This wasn't a death that wrecked me. Certainly it made me sad for all the usual reasons and a few that surprised me, but it didn't send me tailspinning into despair.<br />
<br />
Every word I wrote the rest of November I had to fight for. Nothing came easy. I had no energy to put one word in front of the other and I found myself floundering. Somehow I carried on even though all I felt like doing was watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies.<br />
<br />
I found excuses to write, strange motivations and some of them downright obscure. When the Ferguson verdict came through and I was forced to watch the coverage via Fox News, I wrote about it from Holden's perspective, imagining how it would have affected him and his African American best friend. What were their thoughts? How did the current events make them feel? What conversations would an eighteen year old have with his friends?<br />
<br />
December returned me to Portland and the chaos of work. I let my writing go, opting to lose myself in other people's stories and I read some truly remarkable books (like Jacqueline Woodson's National Book Award winning <i>Brown Girl Dreaming</i>, A.S. King's brilliant<b> </b><i>Glory O'Brien's History of the Future, </i>and Jandy Nelson's amazing <i>I'll Give You the Sun</i>.) These were three very different books by three very different writers and I found myself feeling...inadequate. I found myself questioning the very reason why I should bother writing when there were others in the world telling such brilliant stories, stunning in their voice, the manner of their telling, their words so far beyond my skills.<br />
<br />
There were moments when I felt like giving up completely. There were days when I thought it might be better if I spent my time reading other people's novels rather than bothering to write one of my own.<br />
<br />
But I've been writing as long as I can remember (I started my first book series in the fourth grade) and even at the lowest point of self doubt, I knew I wouldn't/couldn't truly give up. I just needed a break, a chance to rebuild and refocus. I needed to refill from the well.<br />
<br />
Today, I go through my files, scavenging for buried treasures, reviewing critique feedback, notes, ideas, thoughts. <br />
<br />
Today I begin again. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-91uyPn0HQPs/VLBZvIpsLYI/AAAAAAAAAhc/SNV83oBJers/s1600/Neil%2BGaiman.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-91uyPn0HQPs/VLBZvIpsLYI/AAAAAAAAAhc/SNV83oBJers/s1600/Neil%2BGaiman.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A brilliant reminder</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-70782265145212812532014-11-16T08:22:00.000-08:002014-11-16T08:22:19.869-08:00Making Word(s) CountSunday mornings are my favorite writing time. The house is quiet. The
coffee pressed. A fire dances behind its glass cage. The sun filters in through windows, brightening walls. My headphones are
bringing me songs to make me think, to make me feel, to make me sway my
head or tap my feet. Sunday mornings feel like they are made from time so full of potential. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
28,514. </div>
<br />
That's how many words I've written in the first half of November. I'll be honest, not all of them have been easy. In fact, some of them have been pretty damn painful. But I've written every single day. Some days it's in the 500 range, others it's as high as 3,000. I usually build myself in 2-3 days of extra words so that if something comes up, I can take a day off without falling behind. I haven't had to do that yet. Taking a week off to write and run away to the Pacific was certainly a good choice. The last couple years my schedule didn't allow me that luxury.<br />
<br />
It's amazing what you can do if you give yourself the time. November teaches me that lesson over and over again. <br />
<br />
I know there are entire chapters written simply for word count. It's highly unlikely they will make the first round of edits as I start looking at words with a critical eye and I'm completely okay with that. I look at this month as more of a brainstorming/practice time. When it comes time to edit, that's when I'll dig through to see if there are any hidden gems. And the truth is, if the only new scene I keep is the one in which Holden figures out what Jezebel's name is, I'll be satisfied. This latest version is hands down a million times better than any other version I'd written before.<br />
<br />
I have no idea what the rest of November holds for me. There will be more words. More surprises. More challenges. And I will welcome them all. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-aUVoGhgUKH4/VGjGm21kCLI/AAAAAAAAAg8/pAlR83oKGwY/s640/blogger-image-1073665077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-aUVoGhgUKH4/VGjGm21kCLI/AAAAAAAAAg8/pAlR83oKGwY/s400/blogger-image-1073665077.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes the most important part of writing is walking.</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-88913519917556793062014-11-02T07:38:00.000-08:002014-11-02T07:38:19.772-08:00Starting Over<br />There are so many reasons to love November. The extra hour, birthdays, Thanksgiving, the first chills of winter with their excuse to build a fire, NaNoWriMo.<br />
<br />
I set out on my first NaNoWriMo journey five years ago yesterday. I had no idea what I was getting myself into at the time. I only knew that my writing life had stalled and I needed to do something to kick it in the ass.<br />
<br />
It worked.<br />
<br />
I wrote some 53,000 words. Some of them brilliant, some of them terrible, all of them worth it. That first manuscript is tucked in a filing cabinet and will likely never be revisited. It was an exercise. It served its purpose. It taught me I could do it. Maybe someday I'll dig it out and see if there's something in there worth mining for, but I doubt it.<br />
<br />
The next year I started a very different kind of story, featuring two characters who came to me quite clearly, Holden and Jezebel. They demanded their story be told.<br />
<br />
I love them both so dearly, but I have struggled and struggled to get their story right. I know who they are. I know what they mean to each other. But how do I wrap that up in a strong plot? How do I tell their <i>story</i>?<br />
<br />
I write and I write and I write about them and I study the craft of telling stories and every time I think I want to give up and lock their manuscript up in the filing cabinet with that first novel, I come to the same inevitable conclusion.<br />
<br />
I can't.<br />
<br />
In July I participated in Camp NaNoWriMo and other than a few chapters from Holden's point of view, I wrote the entire month about Jezebel's history, where she came from, how she got to be the way she is at the start of their story, about where her journey needs to take her.<br />
<br />
I spent October taking a novel writing class and working through some of the issues of my manuscript. As each day passed and the start of November grew ever closer, I struggled to know what to do about NaNoWriMo.<br />
<br />
Write something brand new? Take the month away from Holden and Jezebel?<br />
<br />
Or keep telling their story. <br />
<br />
There are so many problems with the existing manuscript, the one that has evolved countless times over the last four years. I've often thought it would be easier to start over from scratch.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I did just that. I started over. I wrote three scenes containing 100% new words, 2,901 of them. There are some pretty big changes and there are some subtle nods to the original. The only thing that hasn't changed is the friendship between Holden and Jezebel.That will always be the core of both their stories. One can't exist without the other. <br />
<br />
Today begins another writing day, one that I hope will be as productive as yesterday. I'm nestled into my favorite writing chair with a mug of coffee, a fire burning, an emotionally evocative soundtrack, and an extra hour of morning.<br />
<br />
<br />
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-8850570197720307092014-10-12T19:56:00.000-07:002014-10-12T19:59:18.119-07:00Pitching is For BaseballThey say (some poets) that April is the cruelest month. For me it has long been October. Some would guess, knowing I work retail, that I would feel that way about December. The truth is, I love the chaos of those holiday days, where everything is fast paced, where there's nothing left to do but ride the wave all the way back to the sandy shore.<br />
<br />
October is a different beast all together. It's all the work with very few of the rewards. <br />
<br />
It's a necessary evil with pretty colors on the trees and crunchy leaves under feet.<br />
<br />
Historically, October is not a good month for writing. I let it go for extra hours at work and for some extra hours at home, knowing that NaNoWriMo claims so much of my free time come November.<br />
<br />
But this year I decided to do something different. Probably because I'm insane.<br />
<br />
I'm taking two classes.<br />
<br />
The first is through the University of Iowa, which has one of the best reputed MFA Writing Programs in the country. The class is called How Writers Write Fiction. There are weekly video classes and weekly assignments and lots of message boards to engage in. I'm liking it, but I'm not loving it.<br />
<br />
The second is called Crafting the Kidlit Novel and it's definitely geared more to the market I'm writing for. This class has truly challenged me, which probably means it's good for me.<br />
<br />
The bulk of what I've worked on during the first week has been pitches. And I absolutely suck at it. I even suck at doing pitches for books I've read. I am absolutely terrible about describing books in a sentence or two. I'm awful. It's a skill I currently don't have and one I clearly need to work on.<br />
<br />
Working on a dozen different pitches for my work in progress (WIP) really got me thinking about conversations I have with customers about books. I recommend books a lot. Not quite every day, but definitely most days. Usually I get them to tell me about a book or author they loved, and then I can find a book they might like and simply put it in their hand. If they ask me what it's about, I'll ramble on for a minute or two, trying to stumble on the words that connected what they were looking for with what I gave them. But even that isn't easy for me.<br />
<br />
After several lousy attempts at my own, I don't feel any closer to getting a good pitch for my WIP than I was three days ago.<br />
<br />
But I'm also not ready to give up. I feel like this is a necessary struggle.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-85274632940887758002014-08-10T07:35:00.001-07:002014-08-10T07:35:13.772-07:00Summering<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"It's no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense." Mark Twain </i></blockquote>
<br />
It's been so quiet around this blog that at night you can hear the crickets chirp. And I think that's okay. Crickets really are quite lovely and remind me of lovely things, like sleeping with the windows open, warm nights, swimming pools, the way the grass feels under bare feet. I'm a big fan of summer and this has been a great one.<br />
<br />
June-->July-->August has been a lot about traveling and a lot about writing. I started in the Midwest, touring North Dakota, Minnesota, and a bit of Canada. More recently, I've been at the Oregon Coast and exploring more local haunts. I logged a lot of miles in the car, spent time visiting family and friends, and kicked off Camp NaNoWriMo.<br />
<br />
I've been doing Na(tional)No(vel)Wri(ting)Mo(nth) every November since 2009 and have "won" every year. They started doing "Camp" a few times each spring/summer as a way to participate on a smaller scale and at a time that might be more convenient. I had a friend who was really interested in doing it and wanted someone to do it with so I agreed to sign up.<br />
<br />
I have to say, it is A LOT harder to commit to that much writing time when the outside world is so very inviting and when you are doing so much traveling.<br />
<br />
I gave a lot of thought to the project I wanted to work on. I've had a few story ideas percolating in the back of my mind, but the more and more I thought about it, the more I knew I needed to continue working on one I'd already begun.<br />
<br />
So this summer was a return to the story of Jezebel & Holden, two characters who've been with me for the last four years, two characters whose story I've been struggling to get right.<br />
<br />
A couple months ago I passed around some work-in-progress pages to a few critique partners for feedback. While it got me excited to rewrite in earnest, it also showed me that I was still struggling with some of the same background issues with Jezebel's character I'd always been fighting against. There were too many problems I still hadn't solved.<br />
<br />
As July 1st approached, I realized what I needed to do, what I needed to work on more than anything else, was figuring out Jezebel's real story, what exactly happened to bring her to the where the story begins. I had to go back to move forward.<br />
<br />
So I wrote 50,000+ new words in which I explored Jezebel's life Before. They were more a series of short stories where I asked myself a question about a particular event in her past and then wrote about it. Some of these were tough questions. Jezebel didn't have a particularly pleasant childhood. <br />
<br />
I had some serious, major story breakthroughs that gave me some answers and some directions and a great deal of understanding I just didn't have before. I did also cheat and write a few of Holden's scenes and another scene from a character who is central to the story, but whose voice I'd never heard.<br />
<br />
Camp NaNoWriMo, though it was painful (and at times exhausting) to sit myself down in a chair and write, proved to be exactly what I needed. I'm really grateful and glad I did it. <br />
<br />
August has brought me back to editing and rewriting. I've been spending time rereading <i>Wired for Story</i> by Lisa Cron, asking myself some important questions as I try to finish this novel once and for all. It has been a slow, careful process. I'm getting a few new pages ready to send out for critique and am hopefully on a better track these days. <br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2014 Camp NaNoWriMo</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-36710189238101364472014-06-06T09:01:00.000-07:002014-06-06T09:01:13.925-07:00HomeIt's been several weeks since I had the time, the space, the motivation to write a blog. There has been so much going on in my life. We bought a cute house that suits us very well and left a home we'd spent the last nine years in. It's been an interesting time, to say the very least.<br />
<br />
I've learned a lot about myself through this process. I am the kind of person who needs a place to call home. I moved around quite a bit as a kid. By the time I was in 4th grade I was on my 4th elementary school in three different states. This last house was the longest I'd lived anywhere in my entire thirty something years.<br />
<br />
<br />
To be honest, I didn't think I was ever going to be able to leave it. I didn't think I <i>wanted</i> to leave it.<br />
<br />
But it was time and it was right so we packed up our life of nine years and moved the eight blocks over to our new house. And within 24 hours we were unpacked and I was home.<br />
<br />
And it surprised me how quickly this new house felt exactly like home.<br />
<br />
So I've been thinking and remembering.<br />
<br />
I am adaptable. While I may not always welcome change, it's usually not that hard for me. I make a home wherever I am. As long as I have the people who love me, the walls don't matter. The cliche is true. Home is where the heart is.<br />
<br />
And now that I'm sleeping through the night, now that I have a porch with a comfortable space to write and a cup of coffee, I'm ready to look forward. I've got writing to do, and lots of it.<br />
<br />
I've run out of excuses and the odds are in my favor.<br />
<br />
I have time. I have vacation coming up over the next two months that will give me the extra time and space to do what gives me the greatest joy.<br />
<br />
You see, there is a part of my home that is simply me. And sometimes it's me with my fingers tapping against the keys, eyes on the screen, imagination running wild. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home Sweet Home</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-60729829350964449952014-05-09T10:14:00.000-07:002014-05-09T10:14:17.618-07:00Dear...There has been a tremendous amount of life happening in my world right now that has kept me from sitting still for too long...or at least still enough to write. That's been rough and I've missed it so very much. But I've stolen few moments this morning before racing off to an appointment to get a few words and thoughts recorded.<br />
<br />
I've read two books in the past month that have to do with letters. The first, was Jenny Han's new YA <i>To All The Boys I've Love Before</i>. It's about a high school girl who, when she's decided it's time to be done with a crush, writes an honest, heartfelt letter to the boy and then seals it away in a hatbox, giving her closure for her feelings. Someone discovers the letters and sends them to the boys. What happens next is funny and sweet. It is a book with honesty, humor, and wisdom.<br />
<br />
Earlier this morning I finished Jojo Moyes' <i>The Last Letter From Your Lover.</i> This one is centered on the story of Jenny Sterling and Anthony O'Hare and their star-crossed love affair. The story starts in the 60's and then is picked up again in 2003. Moyes has such a gift for telling stories that inhabit not only your imagination, but also your heart. I don't know how you could read one of her novels and not feel it as if it were your own. I'm left with a bit of an emotional hangover that I think is going to follow me around all day.<br />
<br />
About half way through Jenny Han's book, as I was sifting through the artifacts of my earlier life that had been long buried in the office closet, I stumbled upon a letter in my own handwriting addressed to a boy who had once, rather long ago, ruled over my heart. I had no recollection of writing the letter. I pulled back each fold until the letter was open in front of me and was brought back to those days of my 14th year when I rarely thought of anything aside from this boy.<br />
<br />
I couldn't help but wonder why I decided not to send this letter.<br />
<br />
There were plenty of other letters I did send and as I sifted through boxes and boxes of letters and cards saved from high school, college, and even after, I found many replies from all the boys I'd written to over the years. There were some from lovers, some from friends, some from friends who wanted to be more, and some from unrequited loves, those boys who stole my heart and never even knew how much I cared.<br />
<br />
The truth is, I miss letters. In these days of social media and email, they have become a rare treat. Some of those correspondences from my teens and twenties are counted among my most cherished possessions. I think about what they mean to me now and I wonder what they will mean to me in another twenty or forty years.<br />
<br />
I've written before of the letters my grandpa wrote home during WWII and how he gave them to me a few years ago. I value those as if they were great riches. And now that he's gone, they mean even more. They're probably the reason why letters are such an important part of the novel I began last November. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-lY66iQ5tWrY/U20I1CnMtLI/AAAAAAAAAfE/WzH5KMwwsSg/s640/blogger-image--1412143149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-lY66iQ5tWrY/U20I1CnMtLI/AAAAAAAAAfE/WzH5KMwwsSg/s640/blogger-image--1412143149.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A letter unearthed from my late grandfather, who was an inspiration for my most recent manuscript.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-12659730155337467952014-03-23T08:48:00.000-07:002014-03-23T08:53:52.530-07:00Hopeful<br />
Lately, it has felt like there hasn't been a whole lot to say and so I've kept quiet around these parts. Life has been full of distractions, some interesting, others not. The weather has thrown some lovely days our way and it's been nice to take some time to enjoy it, even if it's only a few minutes here, a walk to the store there.<br />
<br />
If nothing else, I have, in fact, been doing a lot of walking.<br />
<br />
I've found it's a good way to clear my head from many of the stresses it has been obsessing over.<br />
<br />
I find the fresh air feels good in my lungs.<br />
<br />
I like the time to think about things like story and character. Last night I was out walking alone, without company and without music, and I was thinking about this novel I've been working on for so long and then a mother yelled out my character's name at her son, and I had to do a double take because it's not a name you hear everyday and I needed to check and make sure it was real, that it wasn't all in my head. What magic it would be to manifest your characters into physical form!<br />
<br />
Walking is also a good way to catch up with my husband after a day spent independently. It's a way to talk and to listen.<br />
<br />
It's a time to feel sunshine on your face, or the bite that often accompanies a cloudless night.<br />
<br />
It's an excuse to see a college jazz band and have a hand-crafted cocktail on a Thursday night.<br />
<br />
It's a lovely way to take in the rapid rate of spring's constant changes.<br />
<br />
It's a way to take in the world at a pace you can reckon with and lately that's been exactly what I've needed.<br />
<br />
I have yet to determine what this particular day will bring me, but I have a few hopes. The sun is already bright in the sky. I have some ideas for how to make my novel stronger. I have a cup of coffee and a few pages left of an amazing book.* I have the whole day to spend as I choose, balancing the obligations and the dreams.<br />
<br />
I find myself feeling, if nothing else, hopeful. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*The book I'm talking about is by Leslye Walton and is titled <i>The Strange & Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender</i> and it is so very lovely...magical realism set in Seattle about three generations of women, their lives, their loves, their sorrows...it has hints of Isabel Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I HIGHLY recommend.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-50x2298TMpg/Uy72tXd2-NI/AAAAAAAAAes/MyRRwcDx7tQ/s640/blogger-image--442713126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-50x2298TMpg/Uy72tXd2-NI/AAAAAAAAAes/MyRRwcDx7tQ/s640/blogger-image--442713126.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral Park, beneath the St. John's Bridge. One of my favorite walking destinations.</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-30527922266272477312014-03-03T14:45:00.002-08:002014-03-03T14:45:51.340-08:00Another Place, Another TimeI recently finished reading Rainbow Rowell's forthcoming (July 8th) book, <i>Landline</i>. It is about a TV comedy writer, Georgie, and the strained relationship with her husband, Neal. They had plans to go to visit his mom for Christmas in Omaha when Georgie chooses to stay behind to prepare for an important meeting to pitch the TV show she and her partner have been working on since they were in college. In the book, Georgie goes to her mom's house and uses an old rotary landline to call Neal. The catch? This phone doesn't reach present day Neal, but rather the Neal from Christmas 1998, during the week they nearly broke up forever.<br />
<br />
The book got me thinking about time and relationships. What would it be like for present day me to pick up a phone and find the person on the other end not just in another <i>place</i>, but in another <i>time</i>? <br />
<br />
Who would I want to talk to? If I could be present day me and they would be historical them? I think of those people in my life I've loved and lost and can't help but imagine what it would be like to go back and say some of the things I always wished I could have said, to ask some of the questions whose answers have long eluded me. Would I do it? Would it help?<br />
<br />
Maybe that's why I like writing fiction. Nothing I write is really autobiographical, though I can see glimpses of myself in my work. The words come from my brain, my perspective, my experiences, my thoughts. In writing I can explore those kinds of questions about relationships, about ideas. I may not have a magical phone that will let me call up someone fifteen years ago, but I have an imagination that will let me pose questions and speculate answers.<br />
<br />
But if I had a magic phone that could call the past? Would I use it?<br />
<br />
Yes. If the person on the other end didn't know I was calling from the future, I really think I would.<br />
<br />
Would it be wise?<br />
<br />
I guess that depends on who I called. <br />
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<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-76346860554464644532014-02-23T09:52:00.000-08:002014-02-23T14:19:46.193-08:00Teenage DaydreamI went for a long walk last night, hours after the sun had set. I put on some headphones, selected a playlist I'd made over a year ago and put one foot in front of the other. I walked past a high school and saw some boys hanging out on a picnic table, listening to music of their own. Out of the blue I was overwhelmed with a memory from my own time in high school. It was a night that felt quite similar, the air was cold, the sky open. I was walking alone. I had gone to see the school play. I can't even tell you which one it was. It's funny the kinds of things our brains hold onto and the kinds of things it lets go. The memory that hit me so hard, so fast, was one in which I ran into the boy I had an epic crush on at a time when I was least expecting to. I came around a corner and there he was, right after I'd been thinking about him. It felt like magic, like it was meant to. We talked. And like always, he left me wanting for more than our few words. I went home, wrote about it in my journal, and fell asleep dreaming of him.<br>
<br>
For the rest of my walk it was hard to escape my teenage self. Further along I could hear laughter over the sounds of my music and I looked to see where it was coming from and saw a bunch of kids out in the front yard of a house, running around and goofing off. It made me smile and drew me to other memories and other emotions. <br>
<br>
I've been thinking a lot about books, about why I'm drawn to the kinds of books I'm drawn to, why I read (and write) so much YA. I recently read Jojo Moyes new book <i>One Plus One</i> (which sadly for you, doesn't come out until July) and while it didn't affect me in the same way as <i>Me Before You) </i>it was still emotionally resonant even though I have very little in common, at least on the surface) with any of the characters. I'm currently reading a MG (Middle Grade) novel (which is a genre I read maybe 1-3 books a year). This book is hitting a very different emotional nerve that links back to a much earlier part of my childhood than I usually think about.<br>
<br>
The truth is, I like all kinds of books about all kinds of different things. But the books that pull me in again and again and again are the ones with compelling characters who have interesting stories to tell.<br>
<br>
I tried writing several other novels, writing pages, a few chapters. I even finished one manuscript. But it wasn't until I started writing about high school that I started to truly feel like I had something I wanted to say, something that I <i>needed</i> to say. I still feel that way.<br>
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<br>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-boAgoFWBbc4/Uwo0xZSgpyI/AAAAAAAAAeA/jYOWy07YcGc/s640/blogger-image-509833139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-boAgoFWBbc4/Uwo0xZSgpyI/AAAAAAAAAeA/jYOWy07YcGc/s640/blogger-image-509833139.jpg"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I read two books in the last week in exchange for sleeping.</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-77741049304649350332014-02-11T17:06:00.001-08:002014-02-11T17:06:06.360-08:00Sometimes Life Doesn't Give You Mashed Potatoes.Holy {bleep}! Wow, I knew that it had been a long time since I had written a blog, I just didn't realize it had been quite <i>that</i> long. The path from January 7th until today, February 10th has been a long and not exactly pleasant one. I survived the holidays and made it to my "Christmas" holiday and had an absolutely amazing time visiting with friends, eating amazing food, and walking miles and miles and miles along the Oregon Coast. And then pretty much upon returning home and feasting upon Thanksgiving in January (though it was with a definite LACK of my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE: MASHED POTATOES), I fell ill.<br />
<br />
Really ill. So ill that I went to the doctor (gasp!). It took two weeks for me to begin to feel like a human being. And now, another week later, I'm not quite myself, but I'm much better. That little Winter Blast the last few days, transforming Portlandia into Icelandia, didn't do me any favors.<br />
<br />
But I'm here now. And I've found myself with an hour to spare and a cup of coffee. It feels right.<br />
<br />
I've had so many thoughts, so many ideas about what I want to do in my writing and in my life.<br />
<br />
And now, on this gray, desperate, February day, I am committed to making time to transform those thoughts and ideas into action.<br />
<br />
Wish me luck.<br />
<br />
I am tired of using this amazing laptop for work work. I want to use it as a tool in full support of my imagination.<br />
<br />
And I'd still really like some amazing mashed potatoes. With homemade gravy. I guess I'll have to work on that too. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nliNguL2Wqo/UvrIMa3U6uI/AAAAAAAAAdw/6z69Uzo1FaE/s640/blogger-image-693436350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nliNguL2Wqo/UvrIMa3U6uI/AAAAAAAAAdw/6z69Uzo1FaE/s640/blogger-image-693436350.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've been obsessed with my new favorite app that transforms photos into watercolors. </td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-78737101112253821142014-01-05T08:55:00.000-08:002014-01-05T08:55:00.679-08:00Writing homeFor more than a year I have been searching for a new place to write near home. One within walking distance. A place with good light and nice people. It had to have comfortable chairs and enough tables that I didn't have to worry about fighting for a place. The coffee/espresso had to be of a certain quality. And there had to be options for real food, not simply a pastry. It had to be clean. This proved to be a bigger challenge than I ever anticipated in a town like Portland and a neighborhood like mine.<br />
<br />
Around a month ago a new place opened up across the street from Starbucks. This would the 4th coffee place to open up within the distance of a single city block. (I had been able to find faults in the other three). It is, rather fittingly called the fourth estate coffeehouse. From the first time I walked through their door, I felt like this could be the place for me, the place where I could sit and write and think while drinking (and occasionally eating) delicious things. There is bright light from windows. There aren't any fluorescent lights. In fact, there is a skylight above my table that balances the light just right. <br />
In short, I think I'm falling in love.<br />
<br />
I am able to write at home and I have a great space in which to do that. But writing is so often a solitary pursuit and so it's nice to get out into the world where unpredictable things happen, where you can watch two people navigate the waters of a first date, where you can watch the newspaper reading habits of someone else. You can observe the gentleman who always holds the door open for others. You can wonder what that other laptop people are working on. Is it Facebook or a brilliant novel?<br />
<br />
Over the past week, I have been slowly reclaiming my life from the grips of the retail holiday season. I have slept, I have read, I have cooked and eaten good food. I have watched movies and gone for long walks. And now, I dive back into writing to see what is worth pursuing from November.<br />
<br />
I didn't talk a lot about what I did for NaNoWriMo, but I will tell you that if I can do it right, it's going to be a tough and beautiful story. A story of friendship and a story of family...in all the forms it takes. For the first time in my life, I wrote a scene that made me cry as I wrote it. I've heard other writers talk about this, but I'd never before experienced it. It was, at once, both awesome and terrifying.<br />
<br />
I'll confess I am a little nervous to see what I wrote, but I finally feel ready. I feel the time is now.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xpwAEGZjYMU/UsmIaTJJKYI/AAAAAAAAAdc/CucpRcVdQ0k/s640/blogger-image--2062566182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xpwAEGZjYMU/UsmIaTJJKYI/AAAAAAAAAdc/CucpRcVdQ0k/s640/blogger-image--2062566182.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My fourth estate Stumptown latte.</td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-24698605168172594222014-01-01T08:50:00.000-08:002014-01-01T08:50:12.932-08:00Starting the New Year RightI've heard it said that you should start the new year doing the things you'd like to do all year. So far, I feel like I'm off to a great start.<br />
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I've slept in, read, made coffee, tried a new recipe for breakfast, and am sitting down at my computer to write the first words of 2014. I also have some lovely things lined up for the rest of the day. And I get to spend the entire day with my favorite person.<br />
<br />
So far 2014, I'm a big fan.<br />
<br />
2013? You brought some good times and some heartache. Overall, I'm grateful for the time we had together. You taught me some important life lessons, reminded me how important it is to have fun and to take the time to do the things that make your heart sing. I'm lucky to have had the time we had together.<br />
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<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-79362101918626138622013-12-18T08:00:00.001-08:002013-12-18T08:00:47.770-08:00Writing/TimeI can't remember the last time I sat down with my laptop for the express purpose of writing. But this morning is free, this morning is mine. I have no place calling my name until the afternoon and there is nothing I'd rather be doing.<br />
<br />
I've missed this time.<br />
I've needed this time.<br />
<br />
November feels like a dream. I can only remember glimpses and moments. I remember those days at the beach as if they were a fantasy my mind created. Those memories feel like a fog, thick and present and impossible to hold onto, so easily carried away by the breeze.<br />
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Now, somehow, it's the 18th of December. We are a week away from Christmas and time like this, time to sit and think, write and sip my coffee while listening to music, time like this feels like the greatest luxury. It is a gift greater than money, greater than jewels, greater than any item on my wish list.<br />
<br />
There hasn't been much of an opportunity to look back at those 50,000+ words I wrote last month. But I've been missing Violet, her story, her world. I'm glad to have some time to spend with her, even if it's only an hour or two.<br />
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<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-62057150143432665402013-11-28T07:58:00.002-08:002013-11-28T07:58:51.027-08:00ThankfulThe hour is early. The sun is finally flirting with the horizon and soon it will be morning. I've got a cup of coffee in a lovely mug crafted by two people I love who love me in return. I've got my good headphones on and I'm listening to some of my favorite Josh Ritter songs and it's hard not to be hopeful. <br />
<br />
I have a good life. A really good life. There have been times that have been better than others. I've had my share of tragedies and heartache. Tough times. But the good has always outweighed the bad and in the end, I always come up feeling grateful, thankful.<br />
<br />
Today is Thanksgiving and I can't help but think of all the reasons I am fortunate. I think of them often, I truly do, but once a year I like to list them. <br />
<br />
I am thankful for all the people who take the time, energy, effort, and faith to follow their creative path. Whether you're Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Josh Ritter, J.K. Rowling, or somebody trying NaNoWriMo for the first time. Whether you write, draw, sing, make ceramics, knit, or take photographs, to do the things you love to do, that you need to do, is not always easy. It doesn't matter whether or not you share your work with the world. Sometimes following a dream is the most daring, courageous thing you can do. <br />
<br />
I am thankful for the privilege of having spent time and conversation with some of my favorite authors over the past year. I have been inspired. I have been challenged. I have laughed. I have felt hopeful.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for being able to buy books and the time to read them, think about them, share them.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for friends and family who are generous with their time and with their love. Friends and family who make me laugh and remember that I'm not alone on this journey.<br />
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I am thankful for a husband who loves me and who I find myself loving more and more, who makes me laugh and who has patience enough to understand and accept me, despite any faults.<br />
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I am thankful for the sweetest, kindest, funniest, cuddliest black dog in the world.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for the Nerdist Podcast for making me laugh, challenging me to explore new interests, and for making my commute infinitely more rewarding.<br />
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I am thankful for LeakyCon and the way it brings such an interesting community of people together to share their fandoms, to laugh and to dance. <br />
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I am thankful for warm socks and comfortable shoes, Legos, wool blankets, long walks, blue skies, green grass, rainy days, Cards Against Humanity, <i>Pitch Perfect</i>, hammocks, the way snow falls silently, fireplaces, fresh cut flowers, tomatoes still warm from the sun, a cozy chair with a view of the ocean, iPhones, the luxury of a new laptop, dresses and skirts with pockets, handcrafted cocktails, the sounds of laughter, a gentle breeze on a lazy afternoon, Gary Larson, naps, fountain pens, and so many, many other things.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-6pL9FdL38yQ/UpdmijQ0beI/AAAAAAAAAdE/vBnki_M1aK4/s640/blogger-image-1348335119.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-6pL9FdL38yQ/UpdmijQ0beI/AAAAAAAAAdE/vBnki_M1aK4/s640/blogger-image-1348335119.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What I like to remember.</td></tr>
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<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-64201449344320978952013-11-24T08:50:00.000-08:002013-11-24T08:50:15.155-08:0050,000This morning I have prepared all the necessary things. I have started a fire. I have brewed some french-pressed coffee. I have turned the heat on (because if I don't my fingers literally turn blue as I type). I have opened the curtains in the library so I can watch the sun filter in through the tree's bare branches. It is a perfect, lovely morning in so many ways.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for this time I have to write.<br />
<br />
Last night I crossed 50,000 words on this NaNoWriMo project. That's the minimum number of words required to "win." I wish I could say it was as exciting as it was when I hit that number for the first time in 2009, but it's not. 2009 was the first time I learned I could do it. I could string together a novel's length of words telling one story. That was a moment I hope to never forget. <br />
<br />
While the thrill of crossing that line might not be as exhilarating as it first was, I feel just as proud. This month has not been an easy one. I gave up most of my personal life to be able to do NaNoWriMo this year and, as always, it was completely worth it. (Have I mentioned my husband is pretty fantastic?)<br />
<br />
I'm far from done with this. I've mentioned before that the process I'm experimenting with to write this story means that I'm not writing it in chronological order. I have a lot of post-November work to do. It's as if I've cut out all the pieces to make a quilt, but still need to stitch them together into a beautiful pattern. I'm still learning how to do that and I am loving the challenge.<br />
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Today is my last "free" day, a day that is all mine, until the calendar rolls over into December (and then, it's December...). Today I will write the final scene. I've had a pretty solid idea of where the story will end up from the beginning. It will be interesting to see what happens when I actually try to translate the idea into words.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Evening with Neil Gaiman (left) & Amanda Palmer (right) mug </td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-13015219125656752082013-11-17T08:00:00.002-08:002013-11-17T08:01:04.403-08:00Status UpdateOne week ago I left for a birthday/writing/vacation/adventure with my absolute favorite person in the world. (That would be the fantastic husband who takes excellent care of me during the month of November, along with every other month). It was heavenly. We arrived at Newport on one of the most beautiful days I have ever spent in Newport. 60's, sunshine, windless. We removed a few layers and went for a quick hike to the top of Salal Hill, which overlooks the Yaquina Head Outstanding Natural Area. We spent the rest of the afternoon on other coastal adventures, eating good food, walking along the Pacific, taking some deep breaths, and slowing down.<br />
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I couldn't have asked for a better time and place. I wrote thousands and thousands and thousands of words. I imagined (in my pre-trip ambitious mind) I would write more...but the weather, it was so very lovely and I could not resist the pull of the outdoors. But my story still progressed at a brisk pace. My characters became alive in new and interesting ways. They said and did things that made me feel proud of them and proud of myself. <br />
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In terms of NaNoWriMo, I arrived home way ahead of the game, ten full days ahead of schedule, which worked out well since I would need to spend time catching up on work and life chores. But it was totally and completely worth every minute of it.<br />
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I haven't written a word in two full days and now I simply can't put it off any longer. I've missed my characters, I've missed this project. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Devil's Punchbowl State Park</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I wrote many, many, many words.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Neil Gaiman reminder to myself.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Discovered on a walk.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5314944965432473401.post-73303488678155961802013-11-08T14:32:00.000-08:002013-11-08T14:32:05.613-08:00It's Been One Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from here.</td></tr>
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One week and 15,299 words later, I have made it through the first bit of NaNoWriMo. There have been good days, better days, and one truly awful one. But no matter how I feel, no matter what I <i>think</i> I'd rather be doing, I have been sitting down and writing.<br />
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As I've mentioned before, this project (and the process) is considerably different than any other writing I have done. That is both quite satisfying and quite terrifying. One of the things that's really different is that I'm not writing the story chronologically. That's always been my process in the past. But this time, I have such a richer understanding of the characters, their motivations, and the plot points I'm trying to reach, that I can write the story in a much different way.<br />
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While jumping around can get a little tricky, especially when you're nearly 50 pages into a project, this has been a good challenge for me as I think about my Story, the story I'm trying to tell and how I'm telling it.<br />
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And all this plotting has in no way taken the joy I got from writing as a pantser. No matter how well I think I know the overall story arc, there is plenty left to discover as I travel from point to point. The Story has to be translated from ideas into actual type-able words. That's where the real joy comes from.<br />
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One of the things I love about NaNoWriMo is that my birthday falls exactly a week into it. I get to take the day off for writing (and other fun adventures) and I get to enjoy hearing kind words from friends and from family...and this year, I got some words that were especially meaningful and quite timely...for that I am more grateful than I can say.<br />
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In only two days I will retreat to the Oregon coast and wrap myself up in November and create as much of this story as I possibly can, knowing that when I return to reality, there will be a great many other demands on my time and my attention.<br />
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I'm very much looking forward to the time away. <br />
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<br />pdxjesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17837326873652699183noreply@blogger.com0