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. 
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.
]]>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!
]]>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…
I had put myself on the waiting list for this book almost as soon as the library webpage announced they were getting copies in. Still, I waited 3 months to finally get my hands on a copy. I was surprised, too, because nothing earth-shattering happens in it. Usually something happens that threatens Sookie’s life and that’s the major plot and the thing driving the action for the book. This one was, I guess, like an intermission or an inbetween story where things happen (I wasn’t bored) but nothing big. The thing I thought would be the big event kind of works out halfway or 2/3rds into the book and wasn’t as life threatening as I was hoping. So, this book wasn’t my favorite in the series, but I wasn’t bored and I still liked the characters. Plus you do find out a lot of background stuff that keeps the book moving along. It focused more on bits and pieces of character development, especially the secondary characters like her new roommate. Sookie didn’t even have sex with anybody!  | |
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I feel like I’ve said stuff about this book before, but since I can’t find anything on it in my archives, I guess I’m just going crazy. Anyway, Douglas Adams is known for his Hitchhiker’s series, and I can see why. It’s harder to approach his Dirk Gently books (what is it about Dirk names in the adventure genre, anyway? I’m reading one of Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt books right now, too) not because they aren’t humorous or have that usual flair for the wacky that somehow manages to tie into the plot quite nicely (a talent Adams had that I envy), but because of two things: A) he never really explained very well what Dirk does. Granted, this is the second book in the 2-book series and for some reason it’s very difficult to find the first book, but that’s not the only reason. I felt the book kept hinting that something big was going to happen at the climax and it never really panned out. Everything was quickly resolved and I was left thinking, “Come on now, you could have done so much more.”
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Hmmm, that’s all I can remember. I guess July wasn’t a big reading month for me.
]]>It’s been a while since I posted anything writing-related because, well, I haven’t been having much success in that department. Oh yes, I’ve been spending more time than ever on the computer with a word processor open — to the point where sometimes I strain my eyes and get a headache — but I have written barely 8,000 words since the beginning of this month. Pretty flimsy for me, especially since last month I actually did so well and wrote nearly 20,000 words on “Tayce” in two weeks!
But, I guess that’s the way it is. I guess I burnt myself out for a little while. Ironically, I don’t have an empty plate. I’ve got about 30 pages in “Tayce” I’m editing right now simply because I need to change them. After writing it down, I realized that the setting needed to be changed. I would just continue and worry about editing so deeply later, but the 30 pages include stuff that’s going to be critiqued soon so I will have to change it. I also am critiquing some stuff for John; he’s been working on a strategy game for a while now. He asked me to critique the rules, do some grammar checks, and see what I think — about a month ago. I feel bad for putting it off but the truth is it takes a lot of energy and time to critique his writing.
The big news on “Tayce” is that I figured out the theme. It has to do with memories and the past, two things that seem to rule Tayce’s life. I also realized that the antagonist is fixated on the same two things as well, except her response to both her memories and her past is a little more…violent. It was pointed out to me by the critique group that I have a lot of flashbacks in “Tayce” and as I was reading it all over I realized that, yes, I do. I may do something with the flashbacks if the pace really is affected — I’ve long ago figured out that if I get into heavy editing with anything I will never finish. Little bit here and there is OK — but look, I’m trying to fix 30 pages and it’s slowing me down! If the pace is affected then I will probably cut them or try to write them differently. I already know that one flashback is out the window. It was useless when I wrote it, I knew that but I wrote it anyway. Meh, I could have said the same thing in a paragraph of dialog. Anyway, it was that comment that made me realize the theme. When looking it over I thought, Wow, everyone seems to be stuck on their past. Tayce can’t really move on past her father’s death. She has no close friends besides Cotter, and she kind of secludes herself in a house full of her father’s stuff. I realized that this was something she was going to have to overcome and that the “bad guy” was perfect for it. Wow, I had a theme all along and I didn’t even know it!
P.S.
Wordpress needs to be updated again! And I just updated it to the new script like a month ago. I’m not sure I can keep up with this. 
I haven’t had any time to write in the past week and a half, which turned out to be kind of bad because I ended “Tayce” on a place that later I decided to completely redo. I had forgotten this fact over the drama of the July 4th weekend (no, I don’t really want to talk about it right now) and when I opened the word document today I looked at it and went, “Oh.” And then I didn’t want to deal with rewriting about 10 pages so I just closed it and opened “Morgan.”
Yup, there’s always tomorrow.
]]>Wow, where did the month go? It seems like just yesterday I was tipping back coffees like tequila shots in order to keep awake for finals and now I’m really close to the half-mark of my summer break. 
This month was actually really good for me, for a multitude of reasons, and I got a lot accomplished (more on that at another time). But, for the reading front, I didn’t get much done. A lot of the books I read this month were quick-and-easy ones that I read in a day. I blame the first book I tried to tackle, but more on that below the cut.
| I received this little gem from my father. He had found it in India and had sent it to me in a package, recommending that I read it. Now, V.S. Naipul is an excellent writer — dry at times, but I find that true of most non-fiction writers — and my favorite book of his, thus far, would have to be An Area of Darkness. If you want to know what a cynical Indian who wasn’t born in India sounds like, that’s the book to read. I sounded like that for a very long time. It definitely chronicles the first shocking feelings one has when they enter India. Anyway, this book was just…not up to par. It read like a book report because it was entirely dedicated to other writers he knew and admired. I think my Dad thought I’d like it because it has “writer” in the title. It took me about half the month to finish because while his books about India have that feeling of “look at this! I experienced this! I feel this!”, A Writer’s People sounds more like something you’d turn into your college professor. Where’s the love? I ask. |
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| Every few months I get a hankering to re-read Beauty, which I think is Robin McKinley’s finest book (it’s also her first). I’m a really big fan of the retold fairy tales and while this follows the original pretty closely, I love the heroine which is shown to be strong and self-sufficient. The annoying thing is that I couldn’t find my copy despite looking everywhere I could think of (including under the bed), so I finally went to the library and found a copy. Once again the world reminds me what I already know: I need to sort out my book collection. | |
Ohmigod this book is hilarious! This book was my and my best friend’s bible back in high school, we used to giggle over the chapters. Don’t be fooled by the title, it isn’t some “women rule, men suck” kind of book or a self-help book. It’s just…damn funny. It’s the musings of the author and she points out some pretty good hypocrisies in today’s society while making you laugh out loud. She tackles things like body image, the lack of euphemisms for a woman masturbating versus a man masturbating (and the ones she comes up with!  ), stalkers, orgasms, etc. Take this snippet I flipped to randomly:
Can you tell I still love this book, even though when I found it at Bookman’s I hadn’t read it since 2004, when my copy was borrowed and never returned? This book can still make me smile even after I’ve had a crap-tacular day. |
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| Ah, Stephen King. Although I couldn’t get past the mid-area of his Dark Tower series (I’m still working on that), I still find his earlier stuff entertaining. Carrie is not scary at all, but it sure as hell made me cringe. The way they treat poor Carrie makes you want to jump into that world and do some serious ass-kicking and then befriend Carrie and — I don’t know — take her out for ice cream or something. The book is liberally sprinkled with “reports” and excerpts from “books” that talk about Carrie and her unique power, which give you a look into what happened after the events in the book (and also kind of give away the ending). Ironically its these reports and excerpts that I liked the most because, well, it’s different than the usual linear way of telling a story. I think next on my King list is Bag of Bones or maybe The Stand. |
To clarify, I don’t usually write this late at night. In truth, it screws up my internal clock, but I was on a roll and I didn’t want to stop. So I kept going and when I looked up it was 2am. I think I’m going to sleep after writing this (which will be posted in the morning). I think caffeine will definitely be in order in the morning.
1. Things get a little surreal around 1:30am, and I’m not entirely sure if what I’m writing will be any good.
2. Writing late turns off some of my “crap-o-tectors” which is nice in one way, I’m less judgmental about my writing. I suppose it’ll be equal to having a few drinks before sitting down at the keyboard — not that I ever have done that.
3. The plinky violin noises that the X-Files use during suspenseful parts is rather creepy.
4. I forgot to pick up my peppermint tea bags. They help settle my stomach and my mind. Personally, I think Stash has the best peppermint tea. (Yes, these are the random thoughts that fly through my head)
5. I think by tonight or tomorrow the probably-for-a-joke rave scene will be written (”because every sci-fi/fantasy seems to have a rave scene” ).
6. I wonder if that girl in the Applebee’s commercial realized when she did the peace sign with the back of her fingers towards the camera, in England that’s considered flipping a person off.
7. Does Scully ever get tired of saying the same logical babble and yet Mulder always seems right? Does she ever listen to herself and say, “You know what, never mind. I know how this will turn out. You’ll say some really weird shit and I’ll say ‘yeah right, that’s some really weird shit.’ And in the end you’ll be right anyway. So let’s just go with your crazy theory from the get-go.”?
8. Tayce’s full name, Taycera, sounds like something from a song. “Taycera cera, whatever will be will be…”
9. Fangbanger is a slang word already. As is Sporn, and Spore has only been out for — what, a few weeks? People are just wrong.
10. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
…Yeah, I ran out of steam for the last one. I’m off to bed. 
I’ve been trying to keep a log of how much writing I am doing this summer. I wondered, “If given the time, without a million other things pressing on my mind, would I write? And how much would I write?” I made a pretty fancy Excel spreadsheet (because I’m a geek like that) and yesterday I realized I’m just over 20k this month. I think, besides November, this is the first time I’ve written so much in a month. If this continues, I may actually finish “Tayce” by the end of this summer. In which case would begin the bear that is editing (and I have a lot of editing to do for Tayce).
I’ve been writing the novel with the mindset of Nanowrimo — don’t think about it, edit later, just get it out. So I write as the story comes to me, keeping my editing to a minimum until I finish it and can look at the story from beginning to end and see what needs to be tweaked, changed, redone, and/or undone. When I took this philosophy, my output increased nearly 3x. And I can edit in the good stuff and edit out the bad. But, I also feel like I’m getting somewhere.
I am currently typing this at Crave, the local coffee shop. I needed a change of scenery; there’s only so many days you can stay at home because the damn rental car took up your gas allowance and you are currently trying to make a quarter tank last until (at the earliest) Saturday morning. Ah, good times. Luckily Crave is near-literally across from where John works so I stopped in for a bagel and maybe a good few hours of writing. Who knows? Maybe I’ll just shift from here, B&N, and/or Borders today and try to get a significant amount of my writing done today. Who knows? If I’m diligent, I may even get to the death scene I’ve been planning since I first began “Tayce.”
Speaking of “Tayce,” I was re-reading the first 15 pages or so to get my creative juices flowing (sometimes I do a little exercise and sometimes I just re-read an old part I’ve written so I can get into the right mind frame again) and I realized…it’s not half-bad. In fact, dare I say it, it’s pretty good. I like the way I began the novel, especially:
The moon was only a small slice, a poor excuse for a “C.” It threw only a little light, enough for Tayce to see just ahead of her and make sure she didn’t fall into any open graves.
Not bad; a good hook mentioning open graves. The metaphor for the moon is take-it or leave-it, but it’s a little more unique than the usual “fingernail” moon, so I give myself an extra half cookie.
Am I tooting my own horn, you ask? Yes I am, because damn it, every once in a while it’s nice to feel one’s writing is worthwhile instead of the usual “ohmigod this is a pile of drivel why am I hoping and working and sweating blood for this piece of junk that probably will end up in a slush pile somewhere?” Take the triumphs were you can, I say! So yes, I shall compliment myself. Toot toot!
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