Dreams

Sometimes I feel like I need a map to my dreams.  They flitter and float about my head and I dare not look directly at them fearing they will vanish like vapor. 

Alan Gurganus

...people need maps to your dreams.

Paul Valery, French Poet

In the first draft is the talent, in the second is the art.

Jack London

You can't wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club.

Charles Brower

A new idea is delicate.  It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.

Frank Capra

A hunch is creativity trying to tell you something.

Taking A Break

Having just finished the crappy (emphasis on crappy) first draft of my second novel I am now required to take a break.  The idea is that you have to get away from the work for a spell, get perspective.  The best way to do this is to refuse to even look at it "for at least a month" (according to Bethany).  This is not an easy task.  My ending is so dreadful.  I can't wait to change it.  Every chapter is lacking important plot-heavy details that would help the story make sense.  And character dialogue keeps running through my mind at inconvenient times (they seem to talk more, now, than when I was actually writing).


On a side note I totally caved and re-read my first chapter...it's awful.  Worst part?  It's the best chapter I have in the book...proving that Bethany was right and I should probably get some perspective.


In the meantime, I am having Writing Withdrawals.  I'm dreaming of zombie apocalypses, alien dragons, with breathing tubes, attacking the earth, and feeling cranky.  I need my writing fix.  


NaNoWriMo is just around the corner.


My thoughts diverge here.  


Like a new romance, I worry that putting my novel down and focusing on another project will cool my feelings.  That at the end of our separation I will have lost the sound of my characters voices, that I won't be able regurgitate the internal motivation to create--in their world.  How do I cling to my novel, while fervently pouring myself into something else?  Will working on a new project give me the perspective I need or pour cold water on the fires of creativity?


On the other hand.  At least NaNo allows me to write...something.  I hate waking up in the morning and having no project.  I'm anxious, and empty.  I feel more like a writer than I've ever felt, as I come face to face with the hole it has left behind in my soul.  NaNo is a writing vacation, an exercise in perspective, that allows me to write.

Autumn

Leaves rustle as the wind sweeps them in giant circles across the pavement.

Writing

I feel the echoes of poet Allen Ginsberg in my soul, burning up my heart and bringing tears to my eyes.  When asked by students at Yale University, if there was a moment when he consciously decided to become a poet.  Ginsberg said,

 'It wasn't quite a choice--it was a realization.'*

Oh how this realization has been bubbling up inside of me, a spring of joy, an obsession--in a good way.  How right the world feels when I write.


It brings to mind a quote I have written on an index card attached to the cork board that sits above my computer, encouraging me in my daily work

When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
--Anne Sexton

If I never get published...if the world never hears about me, or reads a single one of my words...daily I get the privilege of entering into the act of creation, with my Creator, and I discover that there is no more daunting or rewarding task than this. 


*Excerpted from On Writing Well --Zinsser

Massive Insomnia

def.--Laying in bed (awake) until midnight, drifting off to sleep for two hours, laying in bed (awake) from 2 am-4am, giving up on sleep.

Battling A Case of the Insecurities

My favorite ocean memories come from the time I spent at the beaches near Fort Walton Beach, FL.  The water was clear and warm, beautiful in ways that make the Pacific envious.  I loved walking out far enough that, as each wave came in to beat on the shore, it would first raise me up.  My feet would leave the sand and I would float in peace until the wave set me back down.  Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are like this.  I'm mostly OK, and there are times when God picks me up and holds me close in his hands and I feel my feet leave the sand.  
There are times in the ocean, however, when you misjudge a wave.  The water, no longer gentle, pummels you with a rage that sets your heart on edge.  You are no longer lifted up and floating, rather your body is crushed down into the sand with great force.  In these times you fear for your life.  You hold your breath longer than you dreamed possible and you swim and push and fight against the sand trying to find the direction of the air.  Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are more like this.  The enemy has taken the gloves off, he's thrown the gauntlet and we are going to battle.  My God is still there watching every move closely, keeping the enemy on a short leash.  He's still there rooting for me, loving me, and preparing for my battle victory.  The knowledge of such wonderful things should turn the tide for me, make my victory easier.  It should.  It does...make it easier but not easy.

What's the Hap? the 411?

I'm still dreaming, longingly, with drool dribbling, of somehow getting back across the pond.  Missing London, dreaming of Ireland, and Germany and Spain.  I missed my calling as an independently wealthy traveler.
I've been working...a lot.  Going to classes, writing, teaching homeschool (re-learning Geometry, struggling through Chemistry), attending meetings as one of our church's Attraction Leaders for Children's Ministry--don't ask me how I got the gig, I'm not exactly a poster child for it.
Bethany is attending her first forensics tournament tomorrow.  (She's gonna be great at this.  One of the kids called her bad-ass...proud moment for me)
NaNo is coming up quickly.  Not sure what exactly I'm gonna write about.  Have an idea but it's not my passion, just a different genre.
Bradley keeps asking for more...or new...or easier...or quicker computer science courses.
Dan's going back to school and he has mad* opportunities at work.

I'm praying about-my mom, my illness, writing, that I will be a good friend to those God has given me, an envy problem, wisdom for Dan as he thinks about work stuff, a friend's divorce.

What God has been teaching me-how weak I am, how unfaithful, how big He is...no He's bigger than what you just pictured, my brain can't even keep it in focus for more than a few seconds, how faithful He is, how strong He is, that He is in control--I'm safe in Him, that He is working all of this chaos and pain and difficulty for my good.

He really is beautiful!!!


*(mad means-mucho).

Beth Moore

Anybody can be like everybody else.  Only those who are exceptional choose to believe the possible over the probable.  You, beloved, were created to be exceptional.


(Single greatest motivating statement in my life right now!)

Relient K

Life could you be a little softer to me.

Life could you be more gentle to me.

Yeah, I know, this is a selfish plea,

Because Christ sacrificed His flesh

On the cross for me

But this world is hard,

It's cruel and I wish it could be...

Softer to me.

The Imitation of Christ

Give place, then, to Christ, but deny entrance to all others, for when you have Christ you are rich and He is sufficient for you.

--Thomas a Kempis

Albert Einstein

Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.

NaNoWriMo

Run whooping through the valleys of your imagination.
--Chris Baty

Psalm 139

O LORD, You have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
You discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay Your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.


Where shall I go from Your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from Your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, You are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, You are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there Your hand shall lead me,
and Your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
even the darkness is not dark to You;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with You.


For You formed my inward parts;
You knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are Your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in Your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.


How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
I awake, and I am still with You.


Oh that You would slay the wicked, O God!
O men of blood, depart from me!
They speak against You with malicious intent;
Your enemies take Your name in vain!
Do I not hate those who hate You, O LORD?
And do I not loathe those who rise up against You?
I hate them with complete hatred;
I count them my enemies.


Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!

NaNoWriMo

National Novel Writing Month is quickly approaching and my blood pressure and fear of failure is rising. I didn't finish my last attempt at writing a novel in a month. I only got about half way. Still 25,000 words is more than I had ever written before and some of it is actually good. This time I will actually be attempting it during the official month. This means that if I manage by some miracle to finish my novel I could get some small recognitions from other WriMos or some humiliation, should I fall short of the 50,000 words.
The thought of writing a novel in a month is terrifying. As I sit here typing away on my keyboard, wasting words really on a blog rather than on my novel, I have approximately zero good ideas for a new story line. Of course those are the rules. You cannot use material you've already started on. It has to be something fresh and new. You can, however, begin planning characters and settings one week before it starts. My heart just started beating faster as I typed the last sentence. One week. I think perhaps NaNoWriMo is for psychotic, insane people who for some ridiculous reason feel that they need to write a novel in a month. I'm proud to say that I am one of them.

November is National Novel Writing Month.

Update: Taco Bell

My family and I went out to Taco Bell again today and were again charged double for my sour cream as well as being charged double for my daughter's nacho cheese (.45+.45=.90, a full order of nachos is only 9 cents more). Starting to become irritated by this I decided to call 1-800-TACO BELL. They didn't really seem to care and they couldn't provide me with any information on whether or not this was on the up and up. I told the lady that I spoke with that what I really wanted documented was how deceitful it felt to me to be charged 30 cents plus 30 cents. If the price of sour cream has really doubled from 30 cents to 60 cents, it would seem like a more straight forward business practice to print 60 cents on the receipt. To me it seems as though these particular Taco Bells are cheating people out of money. It feels like they are hoping that most people won't really look at the receipt. It comes off to me as though sour cream is really only 30 cents but they are trying to rig the system and make more money.