It’s A-Comin’!

As Isaac Newton observed, objects in motion tend to stay in motion. When writing your first draft, being busy is key. It may feel frustrating at first, but having daily writing periods curtailed by chores, family, and other distractions actually helps you get the thing done. This is partly because the hectic pace forces you to type with a fleet-fingered desperation. But it’s mostly because noveling in the midst of a chaotic life makes “book time” a treat rather than an obligation. It’s a small psychological shift, but it makes all the difference in the world.
― Chris Baty

There's an old folk saying that goes: whenever you delete a sentence from your NaNoWriMo novel, a NaNoWriMo angel loses its wings and plummets, screaming, to the ground. Where it will likely require medical attention.
― Chris Baty

Deadlines bring focus, forcing us to make time for the achievements we would otherwise postpone, encouraging us to reach beyond our conservative estimates of what we think possible, helping us to wrench victory from the jaws of sleep.
― Chris Baty

Yes, that’s right. It’s almost time for NaNoWriMo. Never heard of it? What, seriously? Have you been living under a rock or something? Well let me enlighten you.

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo or NaNo for short) takes place during the month of November. The goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days – that’s 1667 words per day, for those of you who are mathematically challenged.

In a nutshell, it started in July of 1999 with Chris Baty and consisted of 21 writers. They had so much fun that in 2000 it was moved to the month of November (because it’s such a grey and dismal month and there’s nothing better to do) and they created an official website as well as a few ground rules: you had to use new words only, you couldn’t have a co-author, and your word count had to be verified by the end of the month. They had 140 people sign up – about 30 of them finished.

The next year, to Baty’s astonishment, 5,000 people signed up with 700 finishing, and it’s been growing steadily larger ever since. Last year there were 413,295 participants with 51,670 finishing.

I first attempted NaNo in 2006. I say attempted because I had no clue what I was doing and my story ended at 35,000 words. I missed the next year but in 2008 I completed the challenge, as I did for the next 6 years in a row. I did not participate in 2015, figuring I had enough un-finished books on my hard drive, but I got back in the saddle in 2016 and have been participating ever since. You might find it ironic that my 2017 novel was a sequel to my failed 2006 one.

NaNo is fun, NaNo is frustrating, NaNo is addictive. I totally regret the year I skipped it – I felt itchy the whole month and didn’t really get anything else accomplished. And I don’t know about anyone else, but it’s something that can’t be duplicated at any other time of the year. Under a deadline? Why not try a January NaNo? Nope. Doesn’t work. You have to do it at the same time as the other crazy people around the world.

And what do you get if you finish? Three things: a 50,000(+) word novel, the satisfaction of completing a challenge, and a shiny winner’s certificate that you can download and print off. And maybe you’ll have made a few friends along the way by attending local write-ins.

If you’d like to learn more or sign up, visit their WEBSITE . They’ve redesigned it a few times over the years, and you no longer have to copy/paste your finished novel into their validation thingamajig because the number of participants became too large. Now it’s strictly on the honour system.

And while you’re there, check out all the NaNo stuff you can buy. I have probably 10 tee-shirts from the various years, two hoodies, the NaNo USB bracelet, a NaNo travel cup, and two different sizes of NaNo thermoses (which sadly are no longer available).

This will be my 16th time participating. Normally in late October I go through a whole should I/shouldn’t I phase, but I skipped it this year. I mean, who am I kidding? Doing NaNo is some of the best crazy fun a writer can have.

Do I have an idea yet? Nope. Am I worried? Maybe just a little. After all, NaNo is just a couple of days away. But hey, this won’t be the first time I’ve started with a totally blank slate (and kicked myself for it). And if I write 50,000 words of absolute gibberish, who’s going to know but me?

That’s the beauty of NaNoWriMo.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
The word for last week is . . . progress! It’s about time, isn’t it?

The weather was more crappy than not – grey and dismal. And the temperature rose enough to make it humid on top of that. Thursday we were shrouded in fog, which enticed me to go down to the waterfront to take pictures. And Friday was so warm that I opened the window in my office. And immediately wished I hadn’t. The groove the window slides up into was covered in lady bugs. I must have removed over a dozen of them (and yes, I took them outside to release them) and I think a couple still escaped into the house.

The first half of the week I was tired and lethargic, but I still managed to get stuff done, and from Thursday on I was smokin’.

There were no more mice spotted, although one night the cats and I heard noises on the outer wall of the living room. It might have been the wind, it might have been birds trying to get seeds/insects caught in the siding, it might have been mice climbing the outer wall and trying to get under the siding. No idea. And frankly it kind of creeps me out to think about it.

And for about three nights in a row the cats heard something high up in the dining room. They both crowded onto the topmost platform of the cat tree and stared holes at the very top of the outer wall, just above the deck door. I’m hoping it was a squirrel digging for nuts, or storing nuts, in the eavestrough. It only happens at night though.

Despite the higher temperatures, it’s really starting to look like fall outside. The leaves on the trees seemed to start changing all at once, and the wind and the rain helped dislodge them. I need to take a walk in the park before it’s too late.

There’s nothing like kicking through the crisp, fallen leaves to put a smile on my face.

NEW WORDS:
2821+381+336+1079=4,617
DOWN: 576 – words

No surprise here, seeing as my posts were back to normal length.

For the first time in a long time, I can honestly say I had no late nights getting blog posts done. In fact, most of them were done before dinner. If that’s not progress I don’t know what is. :-)

Aside from getting all of my blog posts done, with ease I might add, I also got the rest of my notes transcribed from Writersfest, such as they are. There weren’t as many as I thought there were, so I also wrote a wrap-up post for Writersfest.

I’d been doing so well, all week long, that Thursday night I just kind of relaxed, forgetting completely about Fiction Friday. I had already decided to post an excerpt from my very first NaNo.

Goals For Next Week:
Keep up the good work with the blogs; settle on an idea for NaNoWriMo

POETRY:
Finally! A form that was a little more challenging. It was kind of accidental, too. I just got so into the form that I automatically wrote the example for it.

There was a poetry gathering last week, but I had a migraine and didn’t go. The poemwork was to write a gothic poem, which is a kind of fun assignment for this time of year. We’re back in the church for our gatherings, so it’s kind of ironic that the weather was unseasonably warm.

I also finished one form, ready for posting, and I have three forms that just need an example. Also, I have the research done on three more. So I’m not as far ahead as I was hoping to be at this point, but I’m getting there.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep working on the new forms; get some examples written.

CRAFTING:
Tuesday was my regular guild meeting, where those of us who were doing the woven fabric baskets were supposed to finish them. Yes, I said supposed to. I had done my stitching homework, so my basket was as far along as the others. The actual weaving wasn’t too bad, but keeping it together was. We didn’t have nearly enough straight pins, so I’ll be finishing my basket at home.

I didn’t have much time for stitching outside of the guild meeting, but I did make some progress on my zentangle sampler. I’ve got another square almost finished, and I know what I want to do for the fourth one, but I seriously doubt I’ll have it finished in time to turn it into a tote bag for the retreat.

Speaking of the retreat, I’m going to need to start thinking about what I’m taking with me. Maybe the zentangle, maybe the kit, maybe something else altogether. Most of the participants are from the Toronto guild, and I don’t want to look like a dork in front of them.

Goal For Next Week:
Finish my basket, work on zentangle.

WHAT I’M READING:
I finished Spells For Lost Things, by Jenna Evans Welch, and really enjoyed it. Now I’m reading The Invisible Hour by Alice Hoffman.

On the Kindle I’ve started Pawsitively Poisonous, by Melissa Erin Jackson. To be honest, I didn’t do as much reading last week as I’ve been doing.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the moderate reading habits; update my Goodreads.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

Despite the crappy weather, that new leaf of mine might have gotten a little bigger. It may even have a new shoot or two trying to sprout. Hopefully I can keep nurturing it this week.

Well, despite this being fall now, that new leaf of mine is beginning to grow. I spent a lot of quality time in my office. A bit of goofing off time too, but mostly productive time. And the funny thing is, I kind of enjoyed it. I want to keep up the good work in the week ahead.

Tuesday is the supplement meeting of the stitchers at the library. I don’t know about anyone else, but I fully intend to show up in costume. It is Halloween you know. I’m even going to make myself a wig of green hair and I got some cheap red shoes to supplement my witch’s outfit.

There are three poetry forms that need their information distilled down, and three that need examples. Let’s see how far I can get with them.

I’ll be using another excerpt for Fiction Friday this week, I won’t be far enough into NaNo to post something fresh. That is, supposing I’m able to settle on an idea and actually start NaNo. It would be so much easier if I could come up with an idea in say, September, so I’d have time to research it. But at this point I’ll be happy just to have an idea by Wednesday.

Well, I didn’t get any extra sewing done, nor did I start any knitting or crocheting. No Christmas crafts either. When I wasn’t struggling, then last week was all about the writing. Which is a good thing, going into NaNo.

It’s unlikely I’ll be squeezing a lot of craft work in during NaNo season, but you never know. I guess it depends on how fast I can write.

I made a couple of lists last week, and they really helped, even if I didn’t get everything done on them. It was actually thanks to those lists that I got my Fiction Friday up on time. As I was sitting there, waiting for the grocery stores to open, I glanced at the list from the day before to see what I’d missed, and there it was – "find excerpt for blog post". I was late to start my grocery shopping, but I got the post up on time.

So, lists for sure this week. They help keep me focused and they give me some structure to my day. And lord knows, I can use some structure.

First NaNo Excerpt

And by first NaNo, I mean the very fist NaNo I ever participated in, way back in 2006. As you read, I’m sure you’ll notice how much my writing has improved since then. :-)

This is from a story called Driving Into Forever. The premise is, a woman is driving home in the fog and ends driving through some kind of dimensional shift and ends up crashing into a tree. She’s found by a group of scientists who are researching this phenomena they call the Myste. In this scene, she and the nephew of one of these scientists are going on a excursion back to her car to remove the stereo – one of the things they do is look for other technology. Oh, and Hannah and Kelvin are attracted to each other (in case you couldn’t guess), only Kelvin seems to be fighting it.

Sorry about the poor quality of the cover picture, but I couldn't find my original and had to pull this off the NaNo site, which apparently has changed the sizing of their covers.

“Good morning, sleepy heads,” Hannah called to Kelvin and Terrell as they finally put in an appearance for breakfast. Always an early riser, she’d been up for over an hour, and in decidedly good spirits.

“Sorry we’re late,” Terrell said. “Kelvin kept me awake with his tossing and turning.”

“Really,” Hannah grinned and turned to Kelvin, “Trouble sleeping?”

“Not at all,” he replied, sending her a look that made her tingle all over.

While they helped themselves to breakfast, Hannah went over to where Colby and Padraic had an assortment of tools waiting for her. She picked through them carefully, looking for tools that not only looked familiar but would aid in removing the stereo system from the jeep. By the time she had half a dozen of the most helpful looking instruments assembled, Kelvin was finished with breakfast and waiting for her.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked. “I could take Terrell with me.”

“And you both know what a car stereo looks like?” she asked. “And how to remove it? It’s okay, Kelvin. I’ll be fine, really.”

“All right then,” he said, handing her a breather. He picked up the pack and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Good luck,” Terrell called after them.

It might have just been Hannah’s imagination, but the Myste seemed thicker than usual as they followed the trail. The trail seemed longer, narrower too. Maybe it was just the oppressive silence and the eternal gloom. She shivered and stayed close behind Kelvin. Finally they reached the spot where they needed to leave the trail.

Hannah was so busy looking around nervously that she didn’t realize Kelvin had stopped until she walked right into him. Reflexively he put his arms out to catch her and they stood there for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes. Kelvin’s arms tightened a fraction and her breath caught, but instead of the kiss she expected, he gently released her. She felt like grinding her teeth in frustration.

“This is it,” he told her unnecessarily, stepping back. “We’ll need the breathers from here.”

Although she felt more like smacking the back of his dense head, she watched him put his breather on and then followed suit. Holding on tight to the guide wire, she followed him into the Myste. The path twisted and turned and if she didn’t know better she’d swear it was longer. At last they reached the wreck.

“My poor jeep!” Hannah exclaimed, through the breather.

It was little more than a rusted out shell. Kelvin passed her a pair of heavy gloves to protect her hands as they carefully peeled back the sagging roof. The interior seemed to be still relatively untouched by the Myste, the seats and the dash board anyway. Hannah nodded to Kelvin and tried to open the door. It seemed to be rusted shut; she tried again but it was stuck fast.

Kelvin motioned her to the side so he could try his luck. Muscles rippling beneath his shirt he gave a mighty heave and wrenched the door not only open, but off the hinges entirely. Hannah’s eyes widened in appreciation.

He handed her the tools and she ducked into the jeep to remove the stereo system. She’d laughed at Sara at the time, but now she was grateful that Sara had sweet-talked that same teenager into installing a similar system in her own car. Hannah had watched him do it and now had a vague idea of how to remove it with the least amount of damage.

Once she’d removed the screws and disconnected the wiring, Hannah passed the stereo to Kelvin who placed it carefully in a protective bag. On a whim she popped open the glove box. The contents were untouched by the Myste and Hannah removed another half-dozen CDs and a personal CD player. She handed these to Kelvin as well, who looked at them curiously before covering them carefully in more protective wrapping and stowing them in his pack.

He waited patiently while she had one long, last look at her last link with her old life, then gently took her hand and led her back into the Myste. Hannah was not the only one who felt the Myste was thicker, Kelvin noticed it too. They only went a short distance when he stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” Hannah asked, voice muffled by her breather.

“The guide wire, it’s not right.”

“What do you mean it’s not right?”

The desire to protect her warred with the desire to be honest. “I have what my Aunt calls an over developed sense of direction, that’s why she prefers me to lead any forays into the Myste when Raynor isn’t available.”

“And what’s your sense of direction telling you right now?”

“That we’re going the wrong way.”

“What should we do?”

He hesitated. “I’m probably wrong, the Myste can be very disorienting. We should keep going.”

They went a few more yards and the guide wire grew lax in their hands. A few steps further and Kelvin stopped again. “It’s been cut.”

“What?”

“The guide wire,” he turned to show her the loose end. “It’s been cut.”

“But why? Who would do something like this?”

The roiling Myste seemed more oppressive, a shiver went down her spine at the thought of someone trying to deliberately strand them out here.

“I don’t know.”

Trimeric Verse Form

This form was invented by Dr. Charles A. Stone (which seems to be a pseudonym), a retired professor, a poet, and an entrepreneur. Dr. Stone has published poetry in many journals and anthologies and published three nonfiction books. Check out his books HERE.

The Trimeric (tri-(meh)-rik) is a short poem of just thirteen lines. It has four stanzas, consisting of a quatrain (four lines), and three tercets (three lines).

While there is no rhyme or syllable count, and the lines can be however long or short you want to make them, the tercets each start with a refrain. Line 2 of the first verse becomes the first line of the second verse; line 3 of the first verse becomes the first line of the third verse, and line 4 of the first verse becomes the first line of the fourth verse.

Without a syllable count I can’t really do a schematic, but the endings of the first verse would be a-b-c-d. and the following verses would begin b * *, c * *, d * *

It takes a little more thought than the forms I’ve been offering lately, but I found it to be just as much fun. This is a great form for anyone who doesn’t like a strict rhyme and rhythm format.


Life is fueled by dreaming things
Ask the trees, they’ll tell you the truth
The stars dance to their own tune
While the world continues to spin

Ask the trees, they’ll tell you the truth
They’ve been here from the beginning
And their knowledge is vast

The stars dance to their own tune
Cosmic music only they can hear
Eternal in its beauty

While the world continues to spin
The rest of the universe grows old
Entropy always wins

Publishing 101 – Writersfest Part III

A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

Publishing a book is like stuffing a note into a bottle and hurling it into the sea. Some bottles drown, some come safe to land, where the notes are read and then possibly cherished, or else misinterpreted, or else understood all too well by those who hate the message. You never know who your readers might be.
― Margaret Atwood

I often think publishing a book is like doing a poo. Once it's ready for the world, you have to relinquish that control and let nature take its course. A few will be impressed by your creation, others will be disgusted. Plus, no one will enjoy your success and achievement in producing it as much as you did.
― H.O. Charles

This was actually the third workshop I attended at Writersfest, the first one of day two. The late afternoon workshop on my first day there was cancelled, so I took the opportunity to do a little shopping. :-D

You’ve drafted, edited, spit, and polished. Now that the writing is done, how do you get it in people’s hands so they can read it? Hazel Millar and Jay Millar have been the dynamic force behind Book*hug Press, a radically optimistic Canadian independent publisher working at the forefront of contemporary book culture, for two decades. Come with your burning questions!

To be honest, this was more of a lecture than a workshop, there wasn’t much for us to do except sit there and listen, and take a few notes as they went through how they got started and then expanded.

They began as a small press imprint, growing from there until they became the fully independent publisher they are today. And they did it all without any corporate funding. They were able to build and curate their catalogue on their own terms. They look for voices that aren’t being published through other means, contributing to an expanding landscape, publishing about twenty books a year.

They started in 2004 by publishing translations of poetry, then novels. Before long they weren’t just publishing translations, they were publishing novels and anthologies as well. Their goal was to make the work as public as possible, and to that end they did all the marketing and publicizing themselves. The book market in Canada is the most saturated in the world.

They have an open submission policy, which means they are open to submissions all year round, and are most interested in writing that takes risks and challenges and pushes the boundaries of cultural expectations. A general guide for manuscript length is as follows:

Poetry – 72 to 100 pages
Anthologies – 8 to 10 stories (which seems like a low number to me)
Novels – 50 to 80 thousand words

Submissions are made with hard copies, no electronic submission. They create traditional trade paper copies first, then e-books and audiobooks as needed.

They went on at length about copyright violations and permissions. You are not to use song lyrics in your novel unless you’re paying for those rights. Everything needs to be credited and permissions granted. Passages in the public domain of less than a sentence do not need to be permissioned.

Only about 10% of the book’s list price goes to the author. If an advance is paid (which it usually is) you do not start receiving royalties until the advance is cleared. If the advance doesn’t clear, you don’t have to pay it back, you just don’t receive any royalties.

This workshop was definitely not what I was expecting, but it was still full of interesting information.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
Last week’s word is . . . heartening, which is a synonym for “encouraging,” which I believe I’ve already used. :-)

The weather was not in my favor last week, it was dull and dismal and occasionally rainy, which depleted my energy and generally made me want to just curl up in my recliner with a cat or two and a cup of tea and just read.

However, despite another encounter of the mousey kind, a whole day away, and a doctor’s appointment, the blog posts all got done. I was up super late Tuesday night finishing my poetry post, but that was more me not planning ahead than anything else.

The new fridge isn’t so bad, and I’m trying not to get too attached to it. I like that the freezer is bigger than the one in the old one, and that it has flat glass shelves. Also, I like the deli drawer in the fridge part and there seems to be more space for stuff in the fridge door.

They did not have a floor model of the fridge we have on order, so we can only go by the pictures on the internet. While I like the idea of a bottom drawer for the freezer, I’m pretty sure it’s a wire drawer, which I don’t like. And I don’t think the fridge part is laid out as nicely as the loaner. It’s too bad we couldn’t have taken our time picking it out.

The father-in-law became sick enough Tuesday evening, that the hubby and his brother took him up to the hospital to be looked at. Having spent the entire day at a stitchery retreat, I took advantage of the hubby being gone to get to work on my poetry form for Wednesday.

I had abandoned the form I was going to use in favor of a simpler one, when I hear the cats playing with something in the hallway. Then I heard squeaking. You guessed it, they caught another mouse and were having a grand old time playing with it.

This little sucker was really fast, and the cats were relentless, so I was not able to catch it to put it outside. Eventually it escaped down to the basement, the cats hot on its heels, and I thought that would be the end of it. It would either find a place to hide – plenty of them in the basement – or the cats would kill it.

After about half an hour, Dinsdale came proudly up the stairs, carrying the mouse in his jaws. He brought it to the middle of the living room . . . and let it go. The poor thing was still alive. The chase was on again, and again I tried (and failed) to catch it. I gave up when they all headed for my office, and tried to focus on my poetry post.

There was no sign of a corpse, and the next day they appeared to have lost interest. I wasn’t sure if it had escaped or they ate it, but at least it was gone. Then Thursday morning I was in my office working, and Dinsdale was in the hubby’s office playing. I realized he was playing with a mouse (dead this time). I didn’t know if it was the one from Tuesday and they’d just stashed the corpse in there to play with later, or a new one, but I closed the door to my office so he couldn’t bring it to me to throw for him and waited for the hubby to get up to dispose of it.

Then Friday morning the little monsters played a Halloween prank on me. They left their stuffed mice at the bottom of the stairs for me to step on when I got up. It was really dark, and I couldn’t see what I was stepping on. Not funny kitties!

NEW WORDS:
2522+1313+237+1121=5,193
UP: 386 – words

This is mostly due to my Monday post being extra long. I really should have made it into a couple of posts – I left out a lot of stuff I could have said – but it was getting late and I was in a rush.

The end of Winter’s Child is where the word “heartening” comes in. Not that I finished another serial, but that I got it done and scheduled on Thursday. I didn’t start working on it until late in the morning, but by lunch time I had the creature’s part done. I broke for lunch and then started on James’s part. So far so good.

Because of the weather, I had a bad headache brewing. So I made myself a cup of tea and took an Advil. When I went back into my office I had the music going, and I was texting with the daughter, and I was feeling frazzled because the scene wasn’t going well. And I don’t know what happened, but I accidentally exited the document without saving. My entire scene was wiped out. Gone. Vanished.

There may have been a bit of cursing. There definitely was a hissy fit involved. There might have even been a bit of name calling aimed towards the lap top, Word 2019, and Windows in general. But once I got it out of my system I took a deep breath, turned off the music, ignored the phone, and started writing.

And I still had the scene finished before supper. If that’s not heartening, I don’t know what it.

Goals For Next Week:
Keep up the good work with the blogs; find an idea for NaNoWriMo

POETRY:
Yeah, I know I said something about trying a form that was a little more challenging, but after spending the whole day at the stitching retreat, and then the whole mouse thing, it just wasn’t going to happen. I did have a more complicated form partially done, but not the example. Ironically, I may have been better off doing that one because I still had to do the research for the easier form. But if you read my Wednesday post, you’ll understand what inspired my examples.

The examples can sometimes be as time-consuming as the informational portion of the poetry posts, which is why I’m trying to get them done ahead of time for NaNo. This will cut my blogging time in half. And if I have time to do the examples ahead of time as well, so much the better. So far I have three forms waiting for an example, and four more waiting to be researched.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep working on the new forms; get some examples written.

CRAFTING:
Tuesday was the one-day retreat with the stitchery guild. The place we held it was out in the country, a restaurant turned wellness spa and inn. I’ll go into more detail about it on my Monday post, but we had a wonderful time, and I’m sure we’ll be back again.

We were given a large, sunny room with a view, and all the tea, coffee, and water we liked. At noon we broke for lunch, and a few of us went for a walk along the trail that took us deep into the surrounding woods. At four o’clock we packed up our stuff, and then went into the dining room for high tea. All in all, it was a lovely day.

I took both my zentangle and my kit with me to work on, and I’m happy to be able to say I worked on them both. Maybe not as much as I should have, but any progress is good progress, right?

I did pull out my kit to work on Thursday night while I was watching Loki, but the action was so good I really didn’t get much stitching done. LOL

Goal For Next Week:
Get my stitchery homework done.

WHAT I’M READING:
It took a couple of days before I started looking for a new tree book, but I finally settled on Spells For Lost Things, by Jenna Evans Welch. I didn’t realize when I picked it that it was Y/A, but I like reading them every once in awhile, and so far I’m enjoying it.

On the Kindle I finished Mystic Pieces, by Ada Bell, and then read Of Potions and Portents, by Nyx Halliwell.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the moderate reading habits; update my Goodreads.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

Despite the crappy weather, that new leaf of mine might have gotten a little bigger. It may even have a new shoot or two trying to sprout. Hopefully I can keep nurturing it this week.

This is the week for digging down and establishing regular office hours. NaNo is just a week and a half away and if I’m going to have a prayer, I need to get into a writing routine now. I have optimistically ordered my winner’s tee-shirt, so there’s no going back.

Tuesday is a regular meeting with the stitchery guild, and I have yet to complete my homework, so I’ll have to get that done on Monday. And if I’m going to have the sewing machine out anyway, I might as well make a skirt or two for the fall. I have the patterns and the material, I just need to cut them out and sew them.

I have three poetry posts that just need examples to finish them off, and I have four more I’d like to research. The research is usually pretty easy, it’s the distilling it down into a post that’s the time consuming part. But if I do it this week, then that’s more time for writing during NaNo.

You may have noticed that I took Editing out of the wordage report. Seriously, who am I kidding? I haven’t been doing much in the way of editing since I finished with the hard copy of Elemental Spirt, and it’s highly unlikely I’ll be doing any during NaNo. I may, or may not, add it back in for December, but most likely it’ll be gone until the New Year.

I’m really happy with the way Winter’s Child turned out. I think this is the story it was always meant to be, I just lacked the skill to do it when I first came up with the idea. For this week’s Fiction Friday post I’m probably going to use an excerpt from my first (failed) NaNo. I don’t want to get into anything new right before NaNo, and I’m not even sure I want to start another serial. Maybe in the new year.

AND I have to settle on an idea for NaNo. I have three or four possibilities, and a couple that have been discarded because they need more research than I have time for. I’m leaning towards one I have a one page synopsis for. It’s not much to go on, but I went with less than that a few years ago when I wrote Shattered for NaNo. The beauty of it is that it’s completely unrelated to anything else I’ve got going on, but I could actually tweak it so it becomes a sequel to Shattered.

I would like a sweater to go with one of those as yet unmade skirts I want to sew. And the easiest way to get one that fits right and I like is to knit it myself. Having my evenings free to do crafting in front of the TV is all well and good, but I need something a little more mindless than stitching if this is going to work. I have to pay too much attention to what I’m doing when I stitch, but once you get into a rhythm with the knitting/crocheting, it doesn’t take the same focus.

And there’s always the Christmas stuff I could be doing. I have some crocheted snowflakes done, all they need is to be stiffened. I’m nor sure if there’s anything else I could be doing in front of the TV, but it might be worth a look in my dresser of craft supplies.

I had a nice balance between tree reading and e-reading last week, and I’m hoping to keep this up this week.

I managed to make it through last week without the aid of my lists, but I still think it might be a good idea to start them up again, just to keep the track headed in the right direction. The forecast for next week is a mix of sun and rain, so a list might help combat the energy sink from that too.

I need all the help I can get.

Winter's Child - Conclusion

After lulling the young one to sleep, I set aside the reeds I had been playing. For reasons I did not fully understand, I did not wish to leave yet. Nor did I believe I was supposed to enjoy playing with the young one as I had. It was difficult to feel aggression in the face of such joy.

I began to sculpt the snow beside the nest, working noiselessly with minimal movement, as I’d been taught when I was much younger. One of the many-spired buildings of the old times began to take shape, something from before the transformation. The young one seemed to like the pictures I drew in the ice of this the best.

Sometimes, during the times of warmth when we were trapped on the mountain, the old ones would create sculptures for entertainment. They were beautiful, delicate structures, some purely visual, others designed so that the wind blowing through them would create music.

There were those among us who began to question the ways we had adopted. They preferred to stay high in the mountains, creating their sculptures and music. When pressed to do their duty to the clan, they simply gathered their things and moved to another mountain. In time, we lost all contact with them.

This war with the humans had gone on for centuries, and from what I could see, few humans were even aware of our existence any more. Was this to be how I ended my days, picking you off, one by one. I derived no satisfaction from your deaths.

I have seen ages pass. Is it possible to have lived too long? Though winter is far from over, I can smell a tang in the air that means a thaw is coming. I look at the young one sleeping so peacefully, so trusting. I must return to my mountain.

I will not be back down again.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Though Frank was adamant everyone was to look with a buddy, James searched apart from the others. His voice grew hoarse from calling and the cold seeped into his bones. How cold must poor Joey be feeling?

He wished his father were here, he knew these woods like the back of his hand, in fact he had been a volunteer for the search and rescue, often leading the way. Then he grimaced at the thought. This was the kind of weather Joseph would say belonged to winter’s children.

It felt liked he’d been out here forever, walked for miles. How far could one little boy wander by himself. It was almost as though Joey had been following something, or been led away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Reluctantly he stopped to answer it, pulling off his glove so he could push the buttons.

“James, it’s Frank. It’s getting dark, we’re going to have to call it quits.”

“Just a few more minutes,” James begged. “We’ve come so far, he can’t be much further.”

There was a sigh. “Half an hour, then I’m sounding the horn.”

“Thank you, Frank,” James said,

“You’ve got your light, just in case?”

“Yes.”

“At least it stopped snowing, you’ll be able to follow your tracks back.”

“I’ll see you back at the house,” James said.

They both knew that, dark or not, he wouldn’t be going back without Joey.

James pocketed his phone again and caught sight of something moving in the trees.

“Joey?” he called, hopefully. “Is that you buddy?”

The movement seemed to be going away from him, rather than towards him, but some instinct had him following. As he neared the clearing where the pond lay, a nameless dread filled him. Could Joey have made it this far and found a soft spot in the ice?

Then he saw her. She stood a few feet away, tall and thin, unearthly beautiful. His breath caught in wonder. Impatiently she beckoned and he followed, spellbound. As they reached the edge of the pond she disappeared. James cried out, looking around wildly. Then all else was forgotten as the small, snow covered mound almost at his feet, began to move.

James set off the alert to the others as he dropped to his knees, gathering his son to him. In no time, they were surrounded by others from the hunting party. Those with guns pointed them in the air, letting off a volley to let the others back at the house know Joey had been found.

Joey squirmed in his father’s grasp, he couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

“Did you see her Dad?”

“See who?” James asked hoarsely.

“My friend. I think she was one of Winter’s children. She played with me and when I got tired she made me this bed and I felt nice and warm.”

James glanced down at the hollow Joey had been curled up in and saw that it was filled with pine boughs, insulating him from the bitter cold.

“She was, wasn’t she Dad? One of Winter’s children, just like grandpa said.”

“Yes, Joey, just like grandpa said,” James hugged his son closer to him, tears streaming down his face – tears of relief, tears for himself, and tears for the father he hadn’t believed in.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

The Lune

The Lune, also known as the American Haiku, was created by New York based poet Robert Kelly in the 1960s. Like the Haiku, it has only three lines, but instead of five syllables, seven syllables, and five syllables, totalling seventeen syllables, we have five syllables in the first line, three in the second, and five in the third, for a total of thirteen syllables.

The name comes from the crescent moon shape of the finished poem. Unlike the Haiku, there are no restrictions (other than the strict syllable count), you can write your Lune on whatever subject you wish.

There is a variation of the Lune known as the Collom Lune, created by poet Jack Collom. This is also three lines, but instead of syllables we’re counting words: three in the first line, five in the second, and once again three in the third line, for a total of eleven words.

I'll warn you, this is another form that's kind of addictive once you get started.


poor squeaking mousie
now a toy
for excited cats

I know he escaped
from the cats
which I think is worse

now he’s loose inside
and don’t know
where he’s hiding now

exterminator
will be called
when it is morning


Collom Lune

I like fall
except when it drives mice
inside my house.


Sunflowers still stand
straight in the crystal vase
taste of summer

Poetry Writing 101 – Writersfest Part II

I need about one hundred fifty drafts of a poem to get it right, and fifty more to make it sound spontaneous.
― James Dickey

What makes you a poet is a gift for language, an ability to see into the heart of things, and an ability to deal with important unconscious material. When all these things come together, you’re a poet. But there isn’t one little gimmick that makes you a poet. There isn’t any formula for it.
— Erica Jong

A poet’s work … to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it from going to sleep.
— Salman Rushdie

The second workshop I attended at Writersfest was Poetry Writing 101, facilitated by Sarah Tsiang.

Get ready to get your creative juices flowing in this welcoming introduction to writing in verse. Join award-winning poet Sarah Tsiang through a series of writing exercises designed to help you find your spark. Through explorations of imagery, language, structure and flow, you’ll play with ways to make writing that feels authentically you.

We began by playing with opposites. If we take a quote from Emily Dickenson, “My life had stood a loaded gun” and make it opposite, we might get: Your death will sit some empty – and here’s where she turned to the participants and asked for suggestions for the opposite of gun. We gave her: flower, dove, hug, marshmallow, peace, pen, suture, birth, whisper, hammer, forceps, uterus, welcome, feather, love, embrace.

We can all be trying to say the same thing, but it all comes down to distilling it down to the right words, making sure you don’t have a wasted word. Density is made through grounding writing in the senses. The specific will lead you to the universal.

For the next exercise we were divided into groups. Half of the groups were asked to provide five interesting nouns, the other half were asked to provide five interesting adjectives. Then we were asked (as individuals) to pick a random noun and adjective and use them in a sentence:

The wildflowers clung with serpentine tenacity to the fence.
The reeds were a verdant shade of green.
The windmill was a whimsical reminder of the life of Don Quixote.

Next we were given a hand-out. There were five poems on it and we were aske to write the opposite of whichever poem we picked.

The poem I picked was Maya Angelou’s:

Awaking in New York

Curtains forcing their will
against the wind,
children sleep,
exchanging dreams with
seraphim. The city
drags itself awake on
subway straps; and
I, an alarm, awake as a
rumor of war
lie stretching into dawn
unasked and unheeded.

My version, turning it into the opposite:

Falling Asleep in Old York

Openness volunteering our won’t
for the calm,
adults awake,
hoarding reality without
demons. The country
pushes you asleep under
uppers unrestrained; and
you, a calm, sleep as a
fact of peace
stands compacting out of dusk
asked and heeded.

The most important thing about poetry is ambivalence – trying to understand things on a different level.

For our next exercise we were asked to think of two important relationships in our lives. We were to describe all of the emotions and feelings associated with them. Then we were to think of an incident, image, or situation that holds two of these emotions. Next we were asked to write a short piece about one of these relationships and then turn it into a poem.

The relationship I chose to write about was with my father.

When I was twenty, my father was diagnosed with colon cancer. Back then there weren’t the advances there are today for early detection, so it was quite advanced when it was discovered. Our relationship was just getting back on track from a past rockiness, but when he needed to go to Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto for treatment, my new husband and I took the day off work to take him up there. Perhaps I was very naïve, but I did not fear losing him at that time. But as we left him in the waiting room, I looked back and saw him sitting there looking alone and afraid. I will always regret not going back and sitting with him.

Love and Regret

The sun should not be shining today
It is too happy for a day of saying goodbye
There’s a hole in my heart where you once were
No matter how many disagreements we had
Underneath it all was the ever present love
Now you are gone, ripped away from me
No more arguing, no more recriminations
I left you sitting in that waiting room
Looking lost and scared, hands clasped in your lap
I was selfish, and left you alone
And now I stand watching as they lower your coffin
Filled with regret for not turning back to sit with you
And telling you one last time, I love you.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
The word for last week is . . . frustration.

Apparently I’m stuck in a traffic jam on that road of good intentions that leads to you-know-where.

You’d think, what with getting our Thanksgiving dinner out of the way on Sunday that I’d have the rest of the week to do all that stuff I said I was going to do in last week’s blog post, but it didn’t quite work out that way.

I spent the better part of Monday re-arranging the kitchen cupboards to make room for the stuff we kept on top of the fridge, then cleaned out the fridge freezer in preparation for the new fridge that was being delivered on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning I had a stitchery meeting, which worked out okay because the fridge was being delivered in the early afternoon and our meetings only go until noon. We were supposed to start a woven fabric basket at the meeting, which did not go as planned. Then I get home and they delivered our fridge early, with no warning. They were supposed to call ahead!

We got the old fridge cleared out as quickly as we could, no finesse about it, and the delivery guys took it away. Hubby had to cut away at part of the alcove that was built around it because the plug from the new fridge was in a different spot than the one in the old one and the plug wouldn’t reach the outlet otherwise.

New fridge gets plugged in, and pushed back – fits perfectly. Delivery guys leave. I go to start filling it and discover a new problem. My beautiful new fridge has French doors, and the left side won’t open because it’s right up against the wall. *sigh*

More farcical angst trying to get a hold of the furniture place, and then we have to go over and pick out a new new fridge and arrange for them to pick up the old new one. Fortunately they were able to give us a loaner.

My week did not improve after that, but at least I got all my blog posts up.

NEW WORDS:
2847+615+295+986=4,753
UP: 54 – words

Pretty consistent, wasn’t I? And while I may not have got any extra writing in, at least I didn’t have to burn the midnight oil getting my blog posts done.

One more installment and Winter’s Child is done. It would have been better if I could have dragged it out until November, then I could just post excerpts from my WIP for my Fiction Fridays, but there really isn’t any more story to tell.

I might give serializing stories a rest for a while, maybe until the new year. I was thinking about getting back into some timed writing using a one word prompt every day, and then picking the best exercise piece and turning it into a flash story for Fridays, we’ll have to wait and see how I feel after NaNo.

Meanwhile, for the last Friday in October I’ll probably post an excerpt from my first NaNo. I might post one from my second one on the first Friday in November, just because I won’t be very far along yet with my new NaNo

Goals For Next Week:
Keep up the good work with the blogs; find an idea for NaNoWriMo

EDITING:
1.5 Hours

Yeah, not a lot, but it’s better than nothing, right? I may have been a little distracted last week. Aside from all the crap going on, the holiday kind of threw me off. Plus, as I knew would happen eventually, the weather turned on me. I enjoy the cool evenings, but the dark is getting really dark, especially when it’s overcast.

Goal For Next Week:
Try and get into a routine with the editing.

POETRY:
I had the blog post part of a more complicated form done, but the example was tripping me up. I was running out of time so I switched to a far less complicated form and actually, I kind of liked it.

I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise that I did not make any progress printing out poems for indexing. One of these days . . . I swear!

Goal For Next Week:
Find a new form to share; work on the extra forms. Print poems to update big book o’ poems.

CRAFTING:
One of the ladies in my stitchery group volunteered to show us how to make a woven, fabric basket. There were only a handful of us who took her up on the offer. Well, we were sent the instructions and apparently I only skimmed over them or something, because I came with uncut material and the others had theirs cut into strips and some even had them pressed. *sigh*

So, by the end of the meeting, while others had their first row of strips ready to be sewn on the base of the baskets, I had the five long strips pressed, stuffed, and sewn, and fourteen others that are pressed. So I have stitchery homework, due in two weeks time.

But believe it or not, I did get some work done on my stitchery kit. I pulled it out on Wednesday night and worked on it during Masked Singer. :-D

Goal For Next Week:
Work on my zentangle; work on the kit I started; do my stitchery homework.

WHAT I’M READING:
I’m gonna be honest here. I was only a little way into Never, Never, by Colleen Hoover and Tarryn Fisher and I read several unfavorable reviews about it and paused, not knowing if I wanted to keep going. I liked what I read so far, so I finally sucked it up and kept going. I’m glad I did, because I really enjoyed it.

I kept going on the box set on the Kindle and read High Noon, by S.E. Biblow. I liked this one much better than the last one – it was a fun little mystery. Next up on the Kindle is Mystic Pieces, by Ada Bell.

Goal For Next Week:
Find a new tree book to read; continue with the box set on the Kindle.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

That new leaf isn’t exactly thriving, but neither is it dying. I’d say it’s more like it’s in a dormant stage. Hopefully the week ahead will see it starting to grow again.

This week will be a little busier than last week, but at least it’s expected busyness, not like the fiasco with the fridge. And I also had an unexpected coffee date on Friday, and while taking a walk along the waterfront was nice, it turned into three hours, which was a little long for coffee.

Tuesday I’ll be joining the stitchery guild for a one day, all day, retreat at a local spa. This is the first time we’ve held a retreat and a surprising number signed up. We get to stitch all day at a local spa, and in the afternoon we’ll be treated to high tea.

One more installment for Winter’s Child, and it’s done. It’s always a little sad when a story ends, and I think I’m going to take a break from serials for a while.

I really need to come up with an idea for NaNoWriMo. Time to break out the old idea file – the paper files that is. I keep remembering that An Elemental Wind started out as a rejected idea. How many other ideas might I have that could work for NaNo? Time to find out.

Even if I’m able to come up with an office routine that includes editing, I’ve only got a couple of weeks until NaNo, and I’m wondering if I’ll be able to stick to it. On the other hand, who knows how much I’ll be able to accomplish in that two and a half weeks, so I should at least give it a try, right?

Ideally, I’d also like to have a couple of poetry posts done before NaNo, just to take some of the pressure off, but that means picking out some more forms. I may have to resort to forms I’ve already done. In any case, I’d like to do at least two forms this week – one for the blog and one for reserve.

I may need to go back to knitting or crocheting if I’m going to do crafts at night. The lighting really sucks in this house, and you need good light to stitch. So I think if I’m going to do any stitching it’ll have to be during the day. But that’s okay. I wouldn’t mind knitting myself a sweater or two, and there’s this afghan I’d like to do for a present . . . Of course that’ll be a moot point if I can’t get the writing taken care of during the day. And again, whatever routine I come up with is probably not going to last more than two weeks.

I did a moderate amount of reading last week and now I need to pick a new tree book. I don’t know what I’m in the mood to read next – maybe I’ll just close my eyes and point to my to-be-read bookcase.

I’m thinking the best way to overcome this non-productive mood I’ve been in lately is to keep busy. Just get up and do things without thinking about them. I need to go back to my lists too, to give my day some structure.

It’s worth a try.

Winter's Child - Part 17

We had lost much in the way of knowledge and science over the ages. There were of course drastic measures we could have taken, but these would have left the world a barren desert, devoid of all but the most rudimentary life forms. This we could not bring ourselves to do.

Some chose to leave well enough alone, these withdrew from the world altogether. Ask me not how it was accomplished, just know that it was done. Those of us who remained watched, and we waited and we learned. Your weapons were an anathema to us and we had none of our own. Instead we relied on stealth and cunning and your insatiable curiosity.

The Clans lost contact with one another. My Clan settled on this mountain and called it ours. And ours it remained, until the first human settlers came.

Direct confrontation with you brought only our own death, so we were forced to find a different method of dealing with you. I do not know how other colonies dealt with you – communication between colonies, by this time, was limited. Our way was to lead you astray.

You have only yourselves to blame really. You are such a curious race, and we found that curiosity was a tool we could use to great effect. All we needed to do was to allow one of you a glimpse or two of one of us. It would fire up that curiosity of yours and you would follow as we lured you to your death—a fall from a height, drowning, or just far enough from shelter that you would succumb to the cold, which was apparently an anathema to you. It never failed.

But we were limited to picking you off one at a time. It was never enough. No matter how many of you died, there were always more to take your place. Our numbers began to dwindle, and yours continued to grow.

So many humans, so few of us. We fled further and further up the mountain seeking refuge in places inhospitable to your kind, away from you and your technology. We grew older and more tired, but still we preyed upon you. It became a matter of old hatred and pride; habit, if you will.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“Did you find him?” Maggie called from the back deck.

James turned at the sound of Maggie’s voice and started back towards her. He’d followed the tracks as far as he could. “There’s no sign of him. These tracks just peter out.”

“Where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know, Mags. But I think we need to call Frank Jensen.” Frank Jensen, his friend who volunteered with Search and Rescue.

“No, we need to keep looking.” Maggie tried to push past him.

“Maggie,” James said, taking hold of her by her shoulders. “There’s a lot of woods out there. We can’t do this on our own.”

“But he’s so little.” She collapsed against him.

“I know Mags,” he said gently. “But he’s a tough little guy. We’ll find him, but first we need to get some help.”

“I’ll start making some calls,” Frank said when James called him. “We’ve still got maps of the area with a grid laid out over them from when the hikers got lost last fall. Try not to worry, Jim. We’ll be at your place before you know it.”

Frank was as good as his word, and in a short time cars began pulling into the Preston’s driveway. Word had begun to spread; some of the cars belonged to friends and neighbors coming to lend their support.

Snow was just beginning to fall again as they set out in groups of two, one of each pair carrying a lantern. There was still a couple of hours of daylight left, but better to be safe than sorry. No one said it, but it was on everyone's mind. The longer the boy was out there, the smaller the chance of finding him alive.

One neighbor brought his hunting dogs, but so far they proved to be ineffective. The light was beginning to dim and the temperature was beginning to drop. Hope was fading.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

Hay(na)koo Verse Form

For such a simple form there’s certainly an abundance of information about it. Think the Haiku is easy? Let me introduce to the Filipino Haiku, the Hay(na)ku. And yes, the parentheses are a required part of the name.

The Hay(na)ku was created by Filipino-American poet Eileen R. Tabios. It was first called the “Pinoy Haiku” and was released in 2003 on June 12, Philippine Independence Day. The name “hay(na)ku” (pronounced ai-na-koo) was coined by Vince Gotera.

The form consists of a single tercet with lines of one, two, and three words, in that order. Syllables are not counted which means the word “cold” and the word “temperature” carry the same weight. There are no other restrictions to this form.

Some of the variations of this form include the reverse Hay(na)koo, which starts with three words in the first line, two in the second, and one in the third. Other poets have also linked several Hay(na)koo together to make a chain.

If you’d like to learn more about this form, check the History of the Hay(na)koo in the author’s own words. I warn you though, once you start writing them, it’s hard to stop.


Cold
sets in –
winter has come.


Leaves
scuttle across
cold, barren ground.


Bees
buzz busily
flower to flower.


Cats
play chase
and then sleep.


Coffee—
dark magic
for waking up.

The Truth About Bodies in Motion – Writersfest Part I

A fool can always find another fool to admire him.
― Tanis MacDonald

When you traffic in falsehoods, rev the engines. Leave shoes all over the house for fast escapes.
― Tanis MacDonald

But if there were two of me, who would you ignore first?
― Tanis MacDonald

I was very happy that I got to Kingston in time for my first workshop (for the first time since I’ve been going to these retreats!). The workshop was The Truth About Bodies in Motion, facilitated by Tanis MacDonald, writer, poet, reviewer, and professor. Here’s the blurb for the workshop:

In this workshop, we will work with the pleasures and the problems of being a body in motion, and shift towards writing about our bodies in all their beauties and oddities as nature writing. What is the beauty of a hawk in flight seen through the lens of a panic attack? How does foot pain change the act of urban foraging? Bring your breathing, grousing, observant bodies.

Tanis MacDonald always has an interesting take on whatever topic she’s presenting in her workshops. She began by having us think about our bodily changes and experiences, and how we write about them. Sometimes we suffer from chronic conditions that make it seem like we’re living as an under the radar disabled person – we cannot function normally, but we don’t suffer from a recognized disability.

There is a temptation to think about the person as their condition, and once we do we are unable to see beyond it. You know your truth – the changes in your body, the aging of your body. One day you can do something, another day you cannot.

The simple act of going for a walk can bring great pleasure, but for someone with a chronic illness it can also present physical problems and these two things clash up against each other. What is it like to write about it? Many readers won’t want to read about it; many others will.

We are used to writing about bodies outside of nature. There is room for all of ourselves – changing bodies, rebellious bodies. Agism, sizism, sexism, racism – these are all things we deal with on a daily basis, and yet they’re seldom written about.

Think about all the things you love to do and how your body’s changed, so you no longer have access to the way you used to do things. You’re having to shift who you are. Think about reading about it.

Consider the body with a perceived difference – the disobedient and rebellious body. Think about rebelling against a cultural norm, where you have to look or act a certain way to be accepted. Getting all of your body experience onto the page – the joys, inclusion, love – is as important as the pain. It isn’t always like that.

When writing about the truth about your body, find a metaphor to commit to and come back to it as much as you can. Use something fresh, not cliché Fresh, natural and a surprise to the readers gives them that “Aha!” moment.

What else is going on in your life besides the pain and struggle? Use details so that it’s not something that happens in isolation, the reader is a part of it. Use old stories, hidden metaphors.

Pain is a private language.
– Roy Lichtenstein

How can we make our private pain public on the page so it’s believable? The moment you write it down you make it public. Read how others express pain on the written page. Check out Falling for Myself, by Dorothy Ellen Palmer or Pain Woman Takes Your Keys, by Sonya Huber

Exercise: We were given 5 different prompts and then told to pick our favorite and write a short piece about it. The prompt I chose was, “What is it like to occupy a “disobedient” or “rebellious” body: disobeying what? Rebelling against whom?”

My body is no longer the same. It was already becoming disobedient – aging when I wasn’t looking, growing soft and slowing down. And then it grew cancer cells that needed to be excised. How dare my body do this to me? I was supposed to be young and healthy forever! But instead I woke up in the recovery room in the hospital, a bag attached to my abdomen to collect my waste, and my whole world was changed. Simple movements that I always took for granted – sitting up, rising from my bed – now felt like Sisyphus pushing that rock up the hill. I’d try, and try, but things didn’t work the same, and I’d have to try again. The relief of the surgery doing what it was supposed to was overshadowed by the reality that bag on my abdomen.

Next we were asked to pick our least favorite prompt. This time, the one I chose was, “What are your experiences of beauty, grace, and/or power in your body?”

This is my least favorite because I’ve never felt myself to be beautiful or graceful. So I can’t write to those. I have, however, felt power, as any fertile woman can. We hold the power of life within us, whether we choose to exercise that power or not. I grew my daughter under my heart for nine months, making me powerful with the act of creation. Her birth was by caesarean section, they had to cut me open to release her, but there was a kind of power in that as well as we both emerged from the experience triumphant. They laid her on my chest for her first meal while I was still in recovery and all the pain was forgotten. I was more powerful in that moment than I’d ever been in my life. The power of motherhood extends beyond childbirth. A mother will do things she never thought possible for her child. She will take risks and use her power to ensure her child thrives. She will sacrifice her power for her child.

There is a linkage through the body, One thing changes and everything changes. What if you’re in an accident, and you survive, but your body has changed irreparably? What do you have to live without doing? The temptation to think you are cured is strong, but it’s not true.

When a milkweed pod splits open, is it empty, or has it fulfilled its purpose? It’s all contained and then explodes open, scattering the seeds. Consider how you might want to change your way of writing.

Tanis was very up front about her own bodily changes, describing how it’s impacted both her writing and her life. She does not shy about writing about uncomfortable subjects. Her book Straggle contains essays on such things as what it’s like to take a walk when you have chronic pain, or having a panic attack when you’re alone in the woods.

I don’t know that I’ll be writing about chronic pain or disabilities on a regular basis, but should one of my characters be facing physical limitations, I feel like I’ll be better equipped to write about it.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
The word for last week is . . . quiet.

There was only one workshop Sunday morning (well, there was a second one but it was on writing about food, which is not my thing, but it would have been kind of fun to take the ferry over to the island where the workshop was being held) so after that was over I packed up my bags and headed for home.

I arrived about lunch time, and after unpacking there was laundry to do and the hubby and father-in-law nicely left the grocery shopping for me to do as well (normally I do this Friday mornings). LOL

Kingston was filled with people, and people tend to deplete my energy, so the first part of last week was spent re-charging my batteries. But I hope you noticed I got all of my blog posts up on time, and I didn’t have to stay up late to do it. So I guess that new leaf that’s starting to sprout didn’t wither completely away after all.

NEW WORDS:
2847+615+295+986=4,753
UP: 856– words

Gee, there’s a surprise. I’m up about as many words as my installment for Winter’s Child. Go figure, eh?

I think there’s only two more episodes to go in Winter’s Child before it’s done. I’d like to make it longer, but there’s only so much I can do to drag it out. Joey can’t last forever when it’s so cold out. LOL

And NaNoWriMo is coming up fast. In September you think you have all the time in the world, then suddenly it’s October and NaNo begins at the end of the month. And no, I have no idea what I’ll be working on this year. I have two different ideas for flash stories like I did a couple of years ago, but one of them requires a lot more research and I just don’t know if I’ll have time for it. Or, I may just go for something completely different. Maybe a brand new story that has nothing to do with any of my other books.

Yeah, that’s just what I need. Another unfinished book to add to the pile. *sigh* But I’ve got a NaNo hoodie and a tee-shirt on their way for inspiration, so whether I get an idea or not, I’m doing it. Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time I started without a clue as to what I’d be writing. :-D

Goals For Next Week:
Keep up the good work with the blogs; find an idea for NaNoWriMo

EDITING:
0 Hours

Oopsie! I knew I was forgetting something. Yeah, I think I’m going to have to go back to list making and keep putting “editing” at the top of my list. I have a bunch of other stuff that needs to be done as well, but I really have to do Elemental Spirit first. It’s the last book in the series, and then I can feel free to move on and start editing other stuff.

Although . . . maybe if I tried editing something else as well it might spur me on to take a whack at Elemental Spirit. Work a bit on E.S., then something else, then back to E.S. If nothing else, it might get me going.

Goal For Next Week:
Just stop talking about it and do it for crying out loud!

POETRY:
Last week’s form required a bit of a longer example than I’ve been doing lately, but it was still a fairly simple one to write. Maybe I should try for something a little more challenging this week, eh?

Believe it or not, I actually did start printing some of the poems I need to add to my big book o’ poems. Okay, so maybe it was only half a dozen or so, but it’s a start. And I’ve been adding dates to them, as best I can. I really need to start doing that as I write them.

The problem is, then I go back and re-write them and then that date’s not quite current. I suppose I could always add a revised date though. It just seems like a lot of work. But it would be nice to know whether a poem is a current one or an old one, and just how old a one it is. I mean, I’ve got poems dating back to high school.

Goal For Next Week:
Find a new form to share; work on the extra forms. Print poems to update big book o’ poems.

CRAFTING:
There was a stitch-in at the library last week, and I actually got some stitching in while I was there. Sadly, that’s the only stitching I did last week.

I keep saying that I’d like to get my writing taken care of during the day, leaving my evenings free to work on my stitchery, but this hasn’t happened yet. One of the reasons for this is that while I often have the time to stitch, by evening my eyes are too tired to do this. I might have to set aside a time during the morning or afternoon for this instead.

Goal For Next Week:
Work on my zentangle; work on the kit I started.

WHAT I’M READING:
I finished Trashlands, by Alison Stine. And then I read Bad Luck Vampire, by Lynsay Sands in one day. Now I’ve started reading Never, Never, by Colleen Hoover and Tarryn Fisher.

I haven’t read anything on the Kindle since finishing Lattes and Levitation, by Christine Pope. It was part of a boxed set and it was so disappointing that I guess I’m a little leery of reading anything else from that box.

But maybe the rest of the books in the set won’t be disappointing at all. And if the next one is, then I can just delete the rest of the set. You know, as soon as I figure out how to delete stuff off my Kindle. :-D

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the non-binging of books.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

Well, that new leaf survived, but just barely, I’d say. Time to start nurturing it into growing again.

Once again, the week ahead has only Tuesday with anything going on. In the morning is a regular stitchery meeting – I think it’s project day, the first of two meetings where we learn to make a woven basket. And in the afternoon our new fridge is going to be delivered. Woot! Can’t wait.

Winter’s Child is almost done. There’s only one, maybe two more installments to go. It’s both longer, and not as long as I’d hoped to make it. But overall, I’m really happy with it. I just hope the ending lives up to the rest of it. Guess we’ll see.

Then it’s time to look forward to NaNoWriMo. I have absolutely no clue what I’m going to write about this year. Another story a day deal? I had pretty good luck with that a couple of years ago. Or maybe I could delve deep into my vault of abandoned ideas. After all, Winter’s Child was once a story I’d abandoned, so obviously I’ve grown as a writer.

Or I could go with a second or third book of a series I did the first book for in previous NaNos. Of course, that just means more editing down the road. Or maybe, and here’s a radically idea, I could go for something completely new. *sigh* Obviously I have a decision to make.

I really need to get back on track with the editing this week. I did so well working on the hard copy, and now it’s all fallen apart again. Hopefully, but getting back into an office routine this week I’ll be able to get back into an editing routine. Even an hour a day would move things forward.

The poetry has been moving along at a steady pace, although the last few weeks I’ve been showcasing rather simple forms. Time for something a little more complicated I think, but it’ll depend on the amount of time I have available. I seem to be less distracted when I’m working in my office though.

I did get a handful of poems printed off last week, but I have a lot more to go. And then even when I finish printing them I still have to file them in my book, and then I have the monumental task of double checking to make sure I have them all. This is not going to be a fun job.

I believe I was filing poems in the book in alphabetical order, but I’m thinking it would make better sense to do it by date instead. That way, going forward I can just add poems as I write them to the back of the book instead of shuffling through it. Something to think about, anyway.

Again, the goal for this week is to get my writing out of the way during the day so that I can go back to crafting at night, but as I said, usually by the time I get to sit and relax after supper I’m starting to tire, and you usually need fresh eyes to stitch.

I’m still working on the satin stitch portion of my kit, but once I’m done that the rest should go quite quickly. There are two more in the series, but seeing as I have no idea what I’m going to do with them, I’m going to wait until after my zentangle sampler is finished to do start them. And I’d still like to get the sampler done in time to use it for my November stitchery retreat, so I’d better shake my needles.

I can’t believe I didn’t open my Kindle once last week. And I made myself waiting until I finished Trashlands before starting Bad Luck Vampire, which I read in one day. What can I say? I read fast and it was a really, really good book.

I am 11 books past my Goodreads goal of reading 50 books this year, so I think it wouldn’t hurt to slow down my reading a bit this week. We’ll have to see how it goes. I read a bunch of reviews of the tree book I started, Never, Never, and they weren’t good, but I like it so far.

Lots to do this week, but I’ll have plenty of time, barring Tuesday, to do it in. The big issue will be the weather. As you know, I’m solar powered. The last few weeks have been mostly sunny, but according to Environment Canada, the week ahead is supposed to be mostly overcast and raining. So I guess we’ll see how big a factor that is on regaining my momentum.

Wish me luck!

Winter's Child - Part 16

We had seen many different species develop, but you were the first bearing a resemblance to our own. When you first began to stand upon two legs, we took a great interest in your beginnings. Had we known what you would become, perhaps we would have done things differently.

It was we who gifted the first cave man with fire. A whim, just to see what he would do with it. We remained apart, watching, guiding when we deemed it necessary. Such crude creatures you began as. But really, has evolution changed you for the better?

It seemed like only a few years – a few hundred, a few thousand? What are years to a race as long lived as we? We grew bored with watching you stumble about. You were no longer entertaining and we moved on to other things. When next we noticed you, you’d already spread across the face of the earth.

Civilizations rose and fell with alarming swiftness. Your barbarism was appalling. You preyed not only on other species but each other as well. Your population was ever expanding, and there were some who were concerned. But the world was large. We foolishly believed there would be room for all.

We were not a prolific race, we had only a handful of colonies scattered across the globe. Our tolerance for the heat of the sun was beginning to wane, and those of us living in this region took to the high mountains, coming down only when the cold would support us. There were still many who believed co-existence was possible.

Peaceful by nature we were ill-prepared to meet the violence of your dealings with us. In a few short centuries we had gone from gods to creatures to be hated and feared. And what you feared you destroyed.

Some, among us, could not let go of the belief we could be friends. You were so much like us. They tried to make peace, to make you believe we meant no harm, that we had much to share. They were the first to die.

In the end we did the only thing left to us, we fought back.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

His new friend was quite nice, Joey later decided.

“I think Grandpa would have liked you,” he told her. “You’re not at all scary. I think he got his stories wrong.”

The creature didn’t answer, but he no longer minded.

“I really wish you could talk,” he continued. “I want to ask you about being a winter’s child. Like, what’s it like to be in the cold all the time? And does it hurt when you have to be in the sunlight?”

The creature cocked her head to one side but didn’t seem to understand what he was saying.

“That’s okay,” Joey said. “But I bet you could tell stories even better than Grandpa.”

She didn’t seem to know where he lived, any more than he did, but that was okay with Joey, as long as they were together. He had no idea she was leading him further into the woods, not closer to home. In his mind, there was no reason not to trust her. Never mind Grandpa’s warnings about how winter’s children always led people astray to freeze to death in the snow.

Having her for company made Joey forget how cold it was. He was having way too much fun for that. Snow began to fall again but they laughed, running and jumping through the swirls. Joey fell over backwards trying to catch a snow flake on his tongue and while he lay there he made a snow angel. She looked at him curiously before laying down and copying him, making an angel of her own.

There seemed to be no end of the things his friend could do. She held out her hand to let snow collect, then swirled it around to make a tiny snow whirlwind. She showed him how to build castles, just like the ones he built of sand in the summer, but there would be no tide to wash these away.

When they came to the small clearing with the pond, she reached up and broke an icicle off a maple tree branch and gave it to him to suck on. It was just like candy. Then they took a running start and slid across the pond, landing with a puff of snow at the other side.

Neither of them seemed to notice how the light was fading. Nor did they notice the way the fresh snow blanketed their tracks. Joey’s friend breathed on a clear patch of ice and showed him pictures in the frost. Joey laughed with delight.

She stood up, giving herself a shake that sent the snow swirling. Joey’s eyes were getting heavy but he watched as she broke off some of the reeds sticking up out of the ice on the pond. Then she dug a cosy nest out of the snow for him. Joey curled up, dowsily listening to the lullaby she played on the reeds. It made him forget how cold he was; soon he was fast asleep.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Verset Verse Form

The Verset, also known as the Triversen, was created by American poet, writer, and physician William Carlos Williams. It’s a six stanza poem, but each stanza is composed of a single sentence that has been broken into three lines. It has no rhyme and no syllable count.

You start by writing a single complete statement or observation on whatever subject you wish. Then you break the sentence into three lines, breaking where you might pause naturally to take a breath or reflect. Each line is a separate phrase in the sentence – line one is a statement of fact or observation, lines two and three should set the tone, indicate a situation or associated idea, or continue a metaphor for the original statement.

Continue writing in this way until you have six stanzas of three lines each. The poem should be written to the rhythm of normal speech as if you were speaking them aloud.



Just six sentences,
that’s all I have to write
to make this into a poem.

How hard could it be
to write a sentence
that could be broken into three lines?

I have two down
and one more to go
before I’m done

This seems kind of silly
but I guess it’s necessary
if I want to make an example

I’ve nothing to complain about,
this form is fairly simple
there’s no rhyme or syllable count

The words are elusive tonight
and I’m forced to dig down deep,
unearthing them like buried like treasure.

Journaling Journey – Part II

I journal about anything and everything I can in my life – minutiae, dreams, important mailed papers, receipts, etc. There is literally nothing that I won’t put in my assorted journaling.
— Margot Olson

Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.
— Natalie Goldberg

Journal what you love, what you hate, what’s in your head, what’s important. Journaling organizes your thoughts; allows you to see things in a concrete way that otherwise you might not see.
— Kay Walkingstick

You’ve decided to start a journal. That’s awesome! There’s only one problem – you don’t know what to fill it with, what kind of journal you want to make. Lucky for you, I’m here to help with a description of some of the different kinds of journals you can have.

Stream of Consciousness.
If you do morning pages (as laid out in the book, The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron), then you’re already doing this. It’s where you write in a continuous stream of whatever pops into your head, without censoring yourself. You don’t need to make sense, just write about whatever’s on your mind. You can time yourself, limit yourself to a set number of pages, or simply write until you run out of words.

Dream Journal
Some people say they don’t dream, but more likely they just don’t remember their dreams. You forget half of what you dream about within 2 - 5 minutes of waking up, and within 10 minutes you’ll have forgotten 90%. The best way to keep your dreams fresh is to have a pen and notebook beside your bed and then record your dreams as soon as you wake up.

Women tend to recall their dreams more easily than men. If you’re having trouble recalling your dreams, try telling your subconscious you want to remember them before going to sleep. Create a bedtime routine, maybe try meditating, and wake up naturally instead of with an alarm. Recording your dreams is a fascinating way of keeping in touch with your subconscious.

Food Journal
This one is especially good if you’re struggling with health or weight issues. You can take note of what you’re eating each day to become more mindful about the foods you’re choosing. This can lead to making better choices on your weight-loss journey. You can also write down recipes you want to try, or old favorites you don’t want to lose track of.

Fitness Journal
Maybe you’d like to get into better shape, or just want to document your fitness journey. Here is where you can keep track of your work-outs so you can stay committed to an active lifestyle. Record what exercises work best for you, and what ones don’t. You can see your progress, and also see where you may need to streamline your routine.

Blessings Journal
Take a few minutes every day to reflect on the good things you have going on in your life. It might be a call from a friend, a gift of produce from a neighbor’s garden, or finally making friends with the cat next door. These are all things to be grateful for, and you can write them down in your journal. You have a permanent record that life isn’t always bad, and when things aren’t going so well, you can go back and see that there’s always hope for something better. The more you look for the good things in life, the more you’ll find.

Sketch Journal
Do you have an artistic side? You can express your feelings, thoughts, and ideas through illustrations, doodles, or sketches. Don’t be afraid to use colour, either paints or pencil crayons, or even wax crayons. You can write about ideas you have for larger projects, inspirational ideas, or methods you’d like to try. For that matter, you could use the pages of your journal to try out different techniques to see if they’d work for you.

Writing Journal
Here’s the place to jot down your thoughts and ideas and document your journey as a writer. You can develop ideas, plot a story, even outline a novel. You can include character sketches, maps, interesting names, whatever strikes your fancy. It’s a place for inspirational quotes and helpful tips on moving forward.

Daily Life Journal
Here you can keep track of your life’s journey. It can be a day-to-day record, or it can be full of conversations you’ve overheard, sad or happy occasions, or even new experiences that made an impact on you. You can make it as personal as you like, or maybe you’d like an account for future generations. It’s up to you.

Whatever journal you decide to keep, set aside a few minutes each day to make an entry. Write or draw whatever feels right to you, or paste in movie stubs or tickets from events you’ve gone to. Just remember that there’s no right or wrong way to keep a journal.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

THE WEEK IN REVIEW
The word for last week is . . . BUSY!

I don’t know what lit a fire in me last week, but I hope it continues going forward. I established my morning routine for most mornings – Tuesdays I have stitchery duties, and Fridays I have grocery shopping, but when I’m done with those things I’ve been landing back in my office.

I had a nice balance between mundane things (cleaning, laundry, etc.) and office-y things (writing, filing, etc.). I even got the dreaded shredding finished! I had a list of things I wanted to get done before I left for Kingston, and I managed to knock off the list.

And all this in spite of the fact that Monday I had an appointment in the morning and Costco in the afternoon. Tuesday I had a stitchery guild meeting followed by an appointment with a new dietician. And Wednesday I had a poetry group meeting in the park, which was pretty darn dark (we all had flashlights).

And then my productivity came to a halt when I left for Kingston for Writersfest Thursday morning. Which is where I am now, as I type this. I got a lot of writing done during my workshops, not so much outside of the workshops though. And I did not get an installment done for Winter’s Child – I don’t even have a beginning for it.

NEW WORDS:
2852+677+258+110=3,897
DOWN: 284– words

Believe it or not, despite missing the installment for Winter’s Child, I’m not down by as many words as I was the week before. And I probably would have been crazily up in words had I written that post.

Here’s the thing. All the other posts came really easily, if not quickly to me last week. But I didn’t get Winter’s Child done ahead of time. I’m not sure if it would have made a difference if I’d stayed home from the poetry group to get a start on it or not, but I guess it’s a moot point because I didn’t.

I was planning on doing it Thursday night, except . . . after dinner (after my last workshop) I went up to my room and started getting things organized for the next day – you know, procrastinating before writing – and I couldn’t find my medication for the morning. With a sinking heart, I called the hubby, and sure enough – my pill box was sitting on the counter.

It seemed the quickest and easiest solution was for us to meet at the halfway point, which was Belleville. Which happens to have a Walmart close to the highway. We could meet at the Walmart MacDonalds and have a coffee before we parted again.

By this time it was dark out, and I don’t see well in the dark, which is why I no longer care to drive in it. Now, there is a horrific story of a string of little bad lucks that lead to me getting hopelessly lost trying to leave Kingston, but I’ll spare you the nitty gritty details. Suffice it to say, I eventually found my way to the highway, and to Belleville.

As a bonus, and I suspect to make me feel better, the hubby included the new Lynsay Sands book that I’d received in the mail that day. I gassed up the car (another bad luck story) and made it back to Kingston. I had no trouble getting back to the hotel, but I was tired and did not have the energy to do the blog post.

I did NOT get a good night’s sleep, which meant I was really dragging my butt on Friday, and by the time I’d made it through all three workshops and dinner, I had absolutely nothing left for writing, so I made the executive decision of skipping this week’s installment.

Goals For Next Week:
Try to get the blog posts done a little earlier; find some other writing to work on.

EDITING:
0 Hours

Okay, I knew there was something I was forgetting in my oh-so-productive week. Oops! Although at one point, when I was cleaning up my office, I did look for the notes I’d printed off about the Illezie. But I had no idea where they disappeared to. Guess I’ll just have to print them again. *sigh*

But it occurs to me that the Illezie prophecy and records are almost a separate part to the story as a whole, so there’s no reason I can’t work on the “story” part at the same time. It might even make joining them together a little easier. Sounds good in theory, anyway.

Goal For Next Week:
Use my notes about the Illezie as a guide to digging down on the editing.

POETRY:
Last week’s form was a kind of simple one, but it was better than no form at all, right? And I did write two examples, so that should count for something.

AND after I had my poetry post scheduled on both blogs, I wrote my poemwork poem for the poetry gathering on Wednesday. I even had the copies all printed out. Go me! LOL

A few years ago I ran a blog that was dedicated to poetry forms. The blog has been defunct for a long time now, but I’m wondering if there were forms I did there that I haven’t offered here yet. I need to make a master list of the forms I’ve done to double check.

Goal For Next Week:
Find a new form to share; work on the extra forms. Print poems to update big book o’ poems.

CRAFTING:
The stitchery guild had a guest speaker on Tuesday, a lady who talked about her journey of learning beadwork. She had some seriously beautiful pieces to show off. And yes, it did give me the urge to do some beadwork of my own. I especially liked her three dimensional betta fish (although I’d much rather do a dragon).

There was still a little time after to do some actual stitching, so I worked on the kit some more. Wouldn’t you know, it was more satin stitching though.

At first I kind of wished I’d brought some stitchery to Kingston with me, but I haven’t had the time or energy to write, so it probably would have been just one more thing to make me feel guilty for not doing. On the other hand, stitching is relaxing. Maybe getting a few stitches in would have relaxed me enough to get some writing in. You never know.

Goal For Next Week:
Work on my zentangle; work on the kit I started.

WHAT I’M READING:
I’m just about finished Trashlands by Alison Stine. And even though I have the latest Lynsay Sands book waiting for me, I’m not going to read it until I’m done with Trashlands. How responsible of me? LOL

On the Kindle I finished A Midlife Shifter’s Dream, by Ruby Raine, and then loaded it up with a couple of books for Kingston, rather than bringing a bunch of tree books with me. One of these was a boxed set. I finished reading Lattes and Levitation, by Christine Pope, but I’m going to have another look at the blurb for the set to see if I want to continue. While the murder central to the plot was solved, the ending read like it should have just said “to be continued on the next book.” I’m usually pretty good about weeding these out before I start reading them because I find it very disappointing when I’m forced to buy several books to get the complete story.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep up the non-binging of books.

THE WEEK AHEAD:

I really hope that new leaf survives being neglected while I’ve been in Kingston. I’d really hate to see that little sprout whither and die again. I guess all it takes is a little determination, right?

For the most part, I’d have to say my time here in Kingston has been well spent. That being said, not one of the workshops I’ve attended has been what I thought it would be from the description. And I will admit to being a little disappointed in a couple of them. But that’ll be a post for next week. :-D

Tomorrow the proof will be in the pudding. It’ll be my first full day back and I’m really hoping I’ll be able to slide back into the routine I was starting to establish last week. The only thing I have in my day planner for the week is the stitch-in at the library, but will all that free time inspire me, or hinder me?

You know I work better under pressure, and there won’t be any pressure next week. My time is pretty much my own. I can’t help feeling that I got so much done last week because I had so little time to do it in.

I’ll have to come up with a really good installment for Winter’s Child to make up for skipping it last week. And that, to me, means I need to start working on it earlier. But it’s getting a little tricky, now that the creature’s getting a say in things. But honestly, I think we’re really close to the end. A couple more scenes with Joey, and then one with James.

I need to find my Illezie notes and get back to working on Elemental Spirit. Or maybe there’s a reason I can’t seem to find them. Maybe it’s a sign I should be starting over with them. I really think I need to start with the prophecy, because everything else revolves around that. Then maybe the rest will fall into place.

The poetry has actually been going fairly well lately, except for me dragging my heels about updating my poetry book. I think it’s even more important for me to do that now, because the workshop on poetry has got me all fired up about getting a poetry book out there.

Ideally, I’d like to get the writing stuff done during the day so I can go back to crafting at night. I want to finish the kit I’m working on so I can get back to my zentangle sampler. I will try not to think about beading, because that way leads to another project to work on. LOL

I was doing well with my exercise, then I came to Kingston. I’ve been getting some walking in, but I forgot my weights. So first thing on my list for next week is to get back on the exercise wagon. And the dietician said that walking every day after breakfast will help with my blood sugar, so I’m going to start doing that too. Lord knows that after Writersfest I’ll need to!

It’s been a long few days. I haven’t done any site seeing this time around, but I’ve done a LOT of shopping on Princess Street. And the writing I’ve done has pretty much been limited to the workshops. But the good news is, that starting next week I won’t have any problem figuring out what to write about on my Sunday blogs for a while.

I’m actually eager to get back home and see if I can nurse that new leaf into growing again. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be here holding a workshop.

Stranger things have happened.