memory

It's been ten years since I left Madison County, and I really haven't missed it much. I haven't had much reason to return, and have only been back a handful of times. Faiyaz has been there twice I think...both times to visit a friend with me who lives just off the interstate. I grew up on what was termed 'roller coaster road', as I kid I lost at least ten dogs to teenagers and adults speeding over those two hills. I ran wild through the woods, I'd bike the 5.5 miles into town or the 6 miles to my friend Donna's house. We never had cable TV, and sometimes we didn't have AC in the summer. I wore ratty hand-me downs with bleach stains because that was all I had. I was never popular, actually the opposite. I would never move back to Madison, for a myriad of reasons. The biggest of these is race. Racism is still a major issue there, and that's something I don't want my amazing girls ever to be exposed to.

But as I've worked on this latest book, I'm finally appreciating the other-worldly beauty of the deep south. It's like writing about a foreign country. As I expose my main character, who is a 17 year old who has spend the last 13 years in New York to rattle snakes, swamps, and alligators, and tonight the bizarre practice of spraying hunting clothes with deer urine, I am missing Madison a little. I'm not a country music person, but tonight I've been listening to "Chattahoochee" by Alan Jackson. Very popular shortly before high school, I can remember a group of girls at Pinetta Junior High climbing on a bench and singing this song while dancing to it. I haven't thought about that for I can't count how many years.

Tonight I planned out a scene of my novel to take place on the Swanee river, at Five Holes in Lee. Five Holes is one of those off the charts hang outs you get in small towns. There are five connected sink holes, some with water in them, and a sandy patch on the edge of the river. Back when I went there, a giant rope hung from a tree limb, the end of which was knotted. You'd swing out over the river, and jump off. I remember the day I decided to swim across the river. I could see the far bank, it didn't seem that far, so I did it. The whole time the group I was with screamed for me to come back, I wouldn't make it, there would be alligators, there would be moccasins...after that day, every time I'd go I'd swim across the river. No one ever went with me, it was just my thing. I'm excited to use that place. "Chattahoochee", even though it's a different river and it's the story of a young man, is a great song for my experiences at Five Holes.

I feel like I'm a different person now. I think if I did revisit Madison at this point of my life I'd be more like my main character than someone returning after a long absence. I am glad that I'm recording snippets of what that part of my life was like, and what that place is like.

I just wish I had some photos to share with all of you of Madison. If I ever do go back, I'll be sure to pack my camera.

NaNoWriMo Update (aka: What Was I Thinking?)

Ever since falling in love with the adventures of Meg Dare earlier this year, I've made it to a wonderful place, and into the best writing rhythm of my life. Namely, I always desire and am willing to write. Well, maybe I should rephrase that. I always feel the need and the urgency to write, thereby enabling me to take advantage of all the odd snips of time I can siphon out of a day. If Anjali is zoned out on TV and I'm feeding Nadira in the high chair (she now feeds herself, I just dump food on the tray) then I'm writing. If Anjali is at preschool and Nadira is napping, then I'm writing. If Nadira is napping and Anjali is absorbed in an art project or playing with her doll house, then I'm writing. If they are both in bed and hubby's working late as usual, then I'm writing. It's urgent. I must do it. You get the idea.

So when I found out about National Novel Writing Month, I thought that would be fantastic! After all, my usual word count commitment is 2000 anyway, writing 50k in a month wouldn't be bad at all, right?

I'd forgotten about the other thing that can happen with my little snippets of time I steal. They can all disappear. POOF! Kids can be sick, preschool can be closed, there can be a sudden shortage of sleep, there's an election and we have to go vote (after an annoying round of automated calls to remind us to go vote) the left overs in the frig can run out, roofers can come and bang on the roof right above Nadira's crib during nap time. The dog can chew through the cable wire, taking away the TV for two days and the repair guy can come right when both girls are napping and I am trying to write. He can then require a length explanation of what happened. (See those teeth marks? Hear the barking coming from the laundry room? What do you think happened?) Kids can coordinate waking up all night to ensure that mommy doesn't get a single moment of sleep. And everyone I've ever known can suddenly have the urge to call and catch up. Even mommies can get sick. And all of this, every bit of it, can happen in the first week of November, my first week of this writing insanity.

And because I've trained myself to 'feel the heat' when I give myself a deadline, and I've made this commitment to write this month, I've been pushing on. My house, spotless clean floors and all on Sunday, now looks something like a war zone. I've been blaming it on sick kids and being sick myself, but I think hubby's going to catch on soon that the real culprit is the writing (as usual).

Despite all of this, in four days my novel that I've been fooling around with for almost a month, has doubled in length. I'm now at 26,910 words, and I started at 13,148. Technically, I'm on track for NaNoWriMo, but because we're going out of town at the end of this month, I want to finish early.

So that's my update. That's the story of stolen snippets of time, sleep deprivations, kids dog and fate aligning against the writer, and the writer coming up victorious.

Now to try to get in my 3k for the day before anything else happens...

National Novel Writing Month

So the goal is to write 50,000 words of a novel in a month, in this month, the month of November. I've been hyping myself up for this for a while. I'm doing my own variation of this because I want to keep working on my swamp monster book, so my goal is to add 50k to what I already have, which is 13,148. So my goal essentially is to get this book up to 63,148 by the end of the month...Those of you doing NaNo hard-core, don't black list me for this deviation! I jumped the gun a little, but I still plan to do 50k in a month.

So wish me luck...

Hush Hush

Here's me and Becca Fitzpatrick's debut novel, "Hush, Hush". Why am I posting pics of someone else's book? Well, she's a new author, I believe in supporting new authors. This was an enjoyable book to read, so I'd thought it would be nice to share it with all of you. Oh, and she's holding a contest. :)
Seriously, contest aside, this is a book I'd be talking about. I think it's safe to say that fans of Twilight would also enjoy Hush Hush. And, most important for any novel, it leaves the reader wanting more. I think Patch and Nora's story, with the inherent obstacles to their relationship, is intriguing. This was a fast read, the action moves the story along at a nice pace, and it keeps the reader guessing.
Some explanation on the in air shots: I read on Becca's blog that the photo used on the cover was taken with the model jumping on a trampoline. So when I was trying to think of interesting shots to take with a book, that's what I came up with. Faiyaz was going to help me cut them, but that just didn't happen. All of you wonderful women who have children can guess the surprise I got upon jumping (I had no idea that was coming!)...yeah, if you've had a baby in the past year, stay off the tramp! I'm laughing in those photos, but believe me when I tell you they were very...uncomfortable...to get. Plus Anjali, and the two youngest of the great friend who let me use her tramp, kept wanting to join me! Don't worry, after three painful rounds of photos, I 'recovered' and let Anjali have a nice long jump. Then at home, Nadira couldn't resist posing with mommy (Anjali was asleep)

So that's Hush Hush, and that's me with Hush Hush. Enjoy the book!

Split Forehead and Split Ego

Today began normal. Faiyaz sweetly made breakfast for the girls and let me sleep an extra 30 minutes because Nadira had be up all night. Then I got up, and he left for work. I doled out more eggs, then went to clean the kitchen up some. Anjali came in and asked for some cheese. I took out the cheese, cut her the usual four slices and put them in a plastic cup, handed it to her and then turned to cut a slice for myself. I had just taken a bit of cheese when I heard Anjali trip and fall on her way to the living room. Considering that Anjali trips and falls at least ten times a day, I didn't react immediately. Then she came into the kitchen saying she hurt her hand. I turned to look, and saw her face covered in blood...her hand was fine, it just had blood from her head on it. Dropping the cheese, I grabbed a handful of paper towels and folded them, then pressed them to the gash. Once the blood was mopped up, I peeked and saw that the gash was about half an inch long...but was split wide. More pressure and a call to Faiyaz. Then as I was trying to get the girls out the door I discovered Nadira had spilt water down her front...it was super cold outside this morning, so I changed her and got dressed. Luckily my lazy gene had kicked in last night, so the couch was buried in clean laundry to choose from, otherwise I would have gone to the ER in my housecoat. Anjali sat in the arm chair with the paper towel to her head while I got Nadira and myself dressed. Fai got here, we loaded up and drove to the ER. By the time she was seen she had eaten half a bag of marshmallows and was giggling at the doctor as her forehead was glued back together. Faiyaz stayed home, and today turned into a family day eating cheese balls in mommy and daddy's bed while watching Mary Poppins. She fell asleep in the arm chair downstairs. It's amazing to me, I'm still in a bit of shock, there's dried blood on the kitchen floor I need to clean up, and she's completely over it. Somehow, I've got to keep that glue dry for five days, but she's fine. Amazing. Kids are so...awesome.

I don't think I'll recover as quickly to my first rejection letter for the new book. It's silly, really. The first book racked up 80 rejections total, and I never felt so...deflated. And this isn't even the literary agent I want, the Big Agent I've mentioned, this is a small agent from an agency that just opened recently but has had good sells so far. I just met this agent in passing, and thought it worth submitting. I'd have been thrilled, of course, if this agent had wanted it, but still...why am I crushed?

It was a good rejection too, not a form letter, a real "this is why I'm saying no". The two problems the agent saw was that it was the first in a series (which from the conference I thought that would be a selling point) and the agent said I did too much telling rather than showing. Of course I immediately printed out the first chapter and curled up with it and a pen. According to "The Making of Shapely Fiction," there's a time and a place for telling. You wouldn't, for instance, spend two pages showing a minor character's personality in scene. However, it's always best to let the reader connect the dots. So I sat there, looking at the first five pages of the first chapter (which is what this agent saw) and thought "that's showing...okay, I tell there, how can I change that? does that need changing? What can that be? (scribble a few possibilities) okay, more showing, some dialogue, showing, oh I tell again-should I cut that or change that?" You get the idea. My conclusion? In those first five pages, I'd say it's about an even split, but those first five pages are a scene and a half. The first scene has people in it, but they aren't important people, they are people on a cruise ship that sinks. The cruise ship is important, the fact that it's sinking is very important. This is third person, in the Captain's POV...I think I give a good glimpse into his head, but not the way I would a main character...he doesn't pop up again after this scene.

My conclusion? I did find places that could be improved upon, that can be sharper, crisper, and more...immediate. More 'showing'. I think the major turn off wasn't showing versus telling, I think the thing that turned this agent off was it's the first in a series...and since I decided to pull a number out of thin air for this, I told this agent it was the first in a series of 8...I think 8 was a scary number. Plus I don't think this agent is a big fan of YA paranormal, when I met this agent I commented that I hadn't seen a lot of it on the list of book publications on the agency's website, and this agent said they did take it...but who knows? YA paranormal is an acquired taste...two or three years ago I'd never have thought I'd be writing it...but it's so much fun!

So my plan of action is to give it another round of editing, tidying up the language here and there (this will be draft 7 for those keeping count) and never again say it's the first of eight. I hope to submit to the Big Agent next week.

Here's hoping...

Making of Pumpkin Pie

Anjali, Nadira and I made pumpkin pie today. It was a blast! I wanted Nadira to be part of the action, so Anjali explained to Nadira how to mush up the crust and all...A three year old teaching a ten month old how to make pie crust has got to be the cutest thing ever! So I'll let these pictures tell the rest of the story, and then I'm going to go get myself a piece of that pie...

A Scene from the Distraction Project

Here's a little piece from page 8 I like...makes me think of home...not perfect, first draft, but still:

Suddenly, something in the dirt moved. It writhed. By the time my eyes adjusted, there it was, a huge snake curled up in my path ready to strike. It didn’t matter that I had no knowledge of snakes, I knew this one. A rattlesnake. Its tail quivered rapidly, filling the still morning with its husky racket. I’ve never heard anything as creepy sounding before in my life. I froze. I couldn’t think. The snake was only two feet away, and the only thing in my hand was the water hose. The snake seemed to realize its advantage. He started to pull back, his bared fangs glittering in the sunshine.
“Step back,” commanded a voice near me. “Slowly.”
I obediently slid one foot back, then the other. Unfortunately I forgot about the water hose for a moment, as I moved back the direction of the water shifted, and hit the agitated rattler in the face.
The snake lunged. I screamed. And from somewhere next to me, an ax came flying down. I was frozen again, my eyes closed tight. I heard a low thud, then silence. No wicked rattle. Tentatively, I opened my eyes.
On the ground at my feet, just inches from my sandals, writhed the remains of the snake, cut it two. Its evil fangs still snapped aimlessly around, clear liquid oozing from its mouth. I assumed this must be the venom.
I felt something on my arm, and jumped. Then I saw him for the first time.
He stood next to me, pulling my arm to make me step back. He still held the ax. Once I was out of the way he stepped forward. Very carefully he put his booted foot down on the viciously biting head of the snake. The rest of its body still thrashed wildly, splattering blood on his boat and his perfect worn jeans that clung just right…a few feet away the snake’s tail still whipped around, but it was starting to loose some of its momentum. I looked up into my hero’s face, it was sun browned with a healthy sprinkling of freckles. His hair a light sun bleached blond. His eyes, blue like mine, studied the snake beneath his foot. He placed the ax on its…neck? I’m not sure if snakes have necks…then he paused.
“Think you can swing this straight and not cut off my foot?” he asked me. His voice…it had a faint twang to it, but it was not unpleasant. In fact I found it rather appealing. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He took this as a negative, and dropped the ax in the dirt. Out of his amazing jeans he brought out a pocket knife. He opened it, then bent down to cut off the serpent’s head. I could hear the knife cutting through the snake skin and flesh…the sound gave me goosebumps.
Then it was over, and he lifted his boot. The head still opened and closed, biting the dirt.
“I’d put on some shoes if you’re going to stay out here. He’s going to be snapping like that for a few more hours.”