Ohmigod this week has just kicked my ass. Every time I go home I fall asleep on the sofa and end up taking an hour to two hour nap. Which means I take that much longer to properly fall asleep later. But, on the plus side, I broke 50,000 words with Morgan! Which means I’ve hit the halfway point in the story (I’ll update the word count bars later).

This is the first time I’ve successfully written 50k words outside of Nanowrimo month and I view this as a good sign. Could it be that I’m learning, growing, and becoming more of a successful writer?

One major thing I finally finished was the first, big reveal of the book: Morgan’s past. I don’t know if I like how the reveal came around, but that’s something that can be looked at during revision. Anyway, it wouldn’t be surprising that, since this is the first time Morgan’s truthfully talked about her past in years, that she begins having nightmares again. Here’s one that I’m not quite sure I like:

“Please kid, don’t look at me,” Morgan said, cocking her revolver. It was a simple Colt and it only had one bullet left, yet that bullet already had this young boy’s name on it. “I’m sorry, kid, I really am. You haven’t done anything, I know. Just close your eyes, okay? Just close your eyes.”

Morgan’s breath hitched in a sob and she blinked back tears as she watched the young boy hesitate and then close his eyes. He was a rather brave kid; no tears, no begging, just a solemn expression that, in a way, was worse to witness. The revolver was shaking and Morgan took a deep breath.

“Kid,” she said, “I know you’re gonna be sore over this, and I — well, all I can say is I’m sorry. Someone’s pulling my strings, too.”

Suddenly, the young boy opened his eyes and lunged at her, screaming in anger, tackling her and causing her to fall back onto the floor. The gun fell from her hand and the kid straddled her stomach. His face was a mask of animalistic anger; his lips were drawn back in a sneer and his eyes flashed as he pushed his fingers against her chest, right above her heart. While his hands were curled into claws, they pushed against the skin until she felt it dent inward. Morgan’s head fell back and she stared up at the dark ceiling as the young boy dug into her flesh with his fingers. She felt the pain, but instead of being something horrific, it was liberating — it was right. She should suffer. She heard the sound of her flesh ripping open under the boy’s fingers and felt hot blood pool and flow down her body. She gave a soft sigh, as if she had been holding a breath, and smiled.

While this dream sequence shows things I really wanted to show: the guilt, the perverse yet hidden desire Morgan has for a painful justice, and the mixing of what really happened and what was just a dream built on intense remorse. But, at the end what I really wanted to write was the kid saying, “Kali-ma! Kali-ma!” while digging his fingers into her chest, because come on, it was ripe for reference, even though I don’t agree in perpetuating the myth of a blood-thirsty, cannibalistic cult to Kali. And, hey, I’d already done a Mary Poppins and a Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious reference. Yet, in the end, I resisted sweet, sweet temptation.

10:16 pm | Category: Morgan, Writing | | 1 Comment

Then again, I think English has spoiled me, which has been set up to be ridiculously easy sometimes it borders on the ridiculously difficult — like it goes too far in one direction.

Why am I checking out Russian, you ask? Because a character in “Morgan” is Russian, and, surprisingly, known only as “the Russian.” I don’t think I’ll tell his name — yet. He’s actually what became of another character that I had really liked named (dependent on the draft I was working on): Jonas, Lucas, or Jack. He was meant to be one of the few people that could scare Morgan and, in fact, in the old draft she comments:

Jack “Reaper” Hutton, known in the Underground as the most efficient and deadly killer-for-hire in the civilized world. Morgan, who was one of the few privy to his kill count, always felt her blood running cold when she thought of him. He looked normal enough — perhaps even bordering on the mundane and easily forgettable, the kind of guy the neighbors would probably describe as “nice and quiet” — but Morgan knew if there was one person who could bring her down, it was Jack. At one time, she had been sure that she’d take her last breath while looking into his cold eyes.*

Now parts of Jack have been chopped up and mushed into the Russian character, who has no history with Morgan. I doubt I’ll add Jack “Reaper” Hutton, but who knows? Maybe if this becomes a series (who am I kidding? I already know what I’d like a 2nd book to deal with) there’ll be a place for ol’ Jack.

But, damn, looking up Russian words for the Russian to say is difficult! Especially since the Russian language has a totally different alphabet and there seems to be only a very few Russian dictionaries online that will show the Russian word in the English alphabet (or, as I like to call it, “Runglish” ). I did, however, have much more success finding a website that listed Russian swear words. Go figure.

*Yeah, it’s rough. But that’s why it was a draft. And one that was ultimately completely rewritten, anyway.

10:07 pm | Category: Morgan, Writing | | No Comments

The last three days have been intense. I’ve been running around along with C, my cooperating teacher, trying to get Dodge Middle School — and more specifically, the 8th grade Language Arts class — ready for the new school year that begins August 11th. We’ll see how much it effects my writing, although I can’t completely stop; I’m also currently trying to get my grad. packet together so I can apply for the Creative Writing MFA program at the University of Arizona (another day I’ll post on why I want to have an MFA in Creative Writing, which now the reason of “to improve my writing” is only one reason, and not an all together big one).

Even in just three days, I’ve learned a lot. It’s an eye-opening experience. For example, I never knew how many hours teachers put in, in Arizona, unpaid. C was talking about working out the curriculum, including doing research on new vocabulary books (because she said that’s where the kids had most difficulty last year) in the summer; and then because a lot of our precious planning time was taken up by unnecessary “pep rallies” (as I called them. The district called them “inspirational speeches”) that required commuting and sitting and listening to for hours on two of the three days we had to plan and because we came back to computers that didn’t work and a score of other small, but crippling, problems she didn’t get everything done anyway. As a result, she said she’d have to come in on Saturday to finish. When I commented on how surprised I was just how many unpaid hours she’s putting in, she shook her head and said, “The district knows we’ll work for free, I think they’re testing to see how much free work they can get off us. We’re not going to stand in front of students on Monday with nothing, after all!”* She then added that many weeks, with grading (also on her own time), she puts in 60 hour work weeks. She ironically smiled and added that if one did the math of hours to pay, she was sometimes earning less than minimum wage.

I thought, I had better like this profession or I am fucking screwed.

Perhaps the worse thing was that we worked Wednesday and Thursday without any air conditioning, without working computers, and with a score of other problems. No A/C was the worst because it was also really humid in Dodge, so by the time I came home I was drenched in sweat and exhausted. I skipped out on the gym both days, I just couldn’t deal with more sweating. And there I was trying to look professional, but I probably looked like a drowned rat.

* A friend of mine and John’s, who works at University High School, came back to his room a week early because he was told his room would not be ready on time (by ready I mean cleaned) so he had to do it all himself. Which is when he noticed the closet was full with someone else’s things. He got the custodians to come move it, but whoever had put it there had also taken away the shelves of his closet to make room for the mystery junk! As a result, he spent three days buying wood from Home Depot and putting in shelves because no one else would do it!

1:02 pm | Category: Journal, Teaching | | No Comments

Tomorrow marks the end of my summer break. I’ll be attending teacher planning days, finally meeting other teachers and student teachers. Ah well, it was a nice vacation while it lasted (and I wish it didn’t have to end!).

Where the heck did July go? And where did my list of books I’ve read go?

No matter, I can totally do this by the seat of my pants. Let’s see…

(more…)

11:32 pm | Category: Books | | No Comments