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Very Naughty

Well the good news is I’m writing like a maniac.  The bad news is that it’s not on Sig’s story.  For whatever reason, he’s still a 250-300 word speed.  It’s slow and painful but I keep slowly chipping away.  I was hoping to finish the first draft by the end of the year, but we’ll see how it goes.

Meanwhile, a story I started on Friday (and barely touched all weekend because we were driving for an early Christmas with my mom) is already 10K.  It’s first person, contemporary, and not very politically correct.  I’m not sure how long it’ll be yet but I’m shooting for novella length.

I know I’m naughty working on something else, but I’ve got to get some more completed stories in my pipeline.  And hey, It’s a pleasure when a story flows like this.  Though I’ve gotta admit my wrists are KILLING me.

And no, I’m not done with Christmas shopping either.  Sigh.

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Mistletoe Madness Blog Hop

HolidayGiveaway2012 copyI love to hear about different people’s holiday traditions, especially at Christmas time.  Some traditions are pretty basic, like putting up the Christmas tree, but I love to learn about other cultures and even just other families’ celebrations.

I’d never heard of king cake until we lived in Texas.  I didn’t know people could buy their own portable snow blowers and engine block heaters until we lived in Minnesota (and snow is almost always a part of the holiday season there!).

I’m sure most of you would be surprised to hear that one year my family put the litter box under the tree.  It wasn’t a tradition we WANTED to keep… but the cat kept leaving “presents” beneath the tree and it was easier to clean up that way!

What I really find fascinating is how people might celebrate the holiday season in outer space.  If you were stranded on an ice planet… I suppose you’d probably be pretty sick of White Christmas.  Aliens might think it’s strange to put a live tree in your living room and hang lights on it.  Or maybe not.  Maybe they live IN the tree and always have lights hung…

The “what ifs” send my writer brain buzzing.  So tell me, what wonderfully bizarre holiday traditions can you think of — or just tell me about one of your traditions.  Commenters will be entered to win a $20 gift certificate to their choice of online book retailer (B&N, Amazon, Samhain, Carina, etc.)

Lots of prizes are available – find the other sites here!

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Fakin’ It Day 3

So Monday was my first day of “Faking It.”  I read everything I have for Sig.  I actually opened a file.  (Yes, it’d been at least two full weeks since I’d done that if not more, so it was a big step.)

Yesterday, I set a goal of 250 words in Sig.  I got 417.  I also completed Power 90 Sweat at level 3/4 and was able to get all the way through it, even though I’ve been hit or miss for months now.

Today, I did Power 90 Strength at level 3/4.  I cut my reps back to 10 (I was up to 15-20 on all sets) but kept the weight where I was before.  I was able to do everything, although I couldn’t get anywhere near as many reps on my max pushups.  Squats I did fine, but my knees were definitely tired going up and down the stairs the rest of the day.

Then I had some people just randomly start talking in my head.  The last time this happened, I ended up with Lady Blackmyre’s Her Grace’s Stable (coming soon from Samhain), so of course I had to listen.  I had no idea who she was (no name) but I knew immediately which story she belonged to.  It was just a few rough lines I’d jotted down for an anthology call months ago.

2,131 words later…

Isn’t that crazy?  I have to beat Sig within an inch of his life to get 250 words and I sit down in an hour or two tonight and have 2K on a different story.  But that’s the way it is sometimes.  I didn’t let my muse off easy either.  I *had* to get my 250 words for Sig before bed.

I wrote a bit and checked my word count… 98 words.  *headdesk*  I’m in the politics of Zijin and I’m feeling my way through several new characters and I don’t know that I’m playing them correctly yet.  Oh well, I can always revise it later.  It’s just slow going until I figure out who wants who killed.  (Although short story:  everyone wants Sig to kill someone.)  I refused to give up until I hit my words.  Finally, 334 words.

Movement.  Progress.

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Fake It Until You Make It

I’ve read this saying before on the Weight Watcher forums but it didn’t really click with me.  Until I needed it.

Say you have a goal, whether it’s losing weight or finishing a book.  Sometimes you can tackle that goal with gusto.  It’s so easy!  You don’t really have a lot of patience for other people who might be struggling with a similar goal.  Birthday cake or some new shiny plotbunny won’t deter you from your goal because SELF DISCIPLINE is yours, baby.  You’ve got balls of steel and ice runs in your veins, whether you’re facing down a juicy hamburger or a mean set of edits.

That’s great and all… but sometimes life interferes.  Okay, maybe more than “sometimes.”  Maybe it’s been a loooooong time since you had that killer self control and single-minded determination.  You feel stuck and in a rut.  It’s dark and depressing down there, but you can’t seem to find the energy or will to pull yourself out.

So what do you do then?  Fake it until you make it out of that rut.

Do something, no matter how small, that inches you closer to that goal.  Maybe it’s just “going through the motions” but sometimes building that habit will lead you to another good habit.  Forward progress is crucial, even if it’s glacier speed.

Haven’t you watched The Dog Whisperer before where Cesar Milan’s trying to get a stubborn dog to walk on its leash?  In one episode, the dog just sat there like a lump.  No amount of treats or tugging on the leash would get him to move.  So Cesar picked up his hind legs like a wheelbarrow.  It got him to move.  One step.  Then another.  Forward progress, even if wacky or crazy, can help us get out of that rut when nothing else will work.

So since I’m struggling right now with both my diet and writing, I’m faking it.  I get up and begin each day tracking my food.  Even if I forget or willfully decide not to track later.  I eat the same healthy breakfast each morning.  Even if I screw up later… I’ve at least had my breakfast.  That’s something.  Even if I miss a day of working out, I can always work out tomorrow.  I don’t have to be perfect.  I just have to keep trying.

It’s the same with writing.  That’s why I’m back to 250 words.  That’s it.  I have to have progress.  I have to get STARTED.  Instead of sitting here whining that I haven’t finished yet… when I haven’t bothered to open the file.  *slapme*

My first step yesterday was to re-read what I’ve done on Sig since Oct (about 26K).  Now, forward.  Even if it’s a measely 250 words every day.

Someday, it won’t be slogging.  It won’t feel like ripping off my fingernails.  I won’t be so sore I can’t walk up the stairs (because I skipped working out for weeks).  I just have to keep trying because failure only comes when I give up.  When I quit trying every single day.

Eventually, I won’t have to fake it.

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New Puppy!

Ever since Pepper passed away in March, we’ve been thinking about getting a second dog.  Well, “we” being me and the monsters.  That Man likes dogs well enough…. from a distance.  He’s not really an indoor dog kind of guy.  But Middle Monster wrote a powerfully cute Christmas letter about really really REALLY wanting another dog, and TM finally agreed.

I looked on petfinder.com first but couldn’t find anything that was a good match for us.  I wanted something boxer like, not too big, but that energy level.  Our poor old gentleman Pepper (Schnoodle mix) hated it when KC wanted to play with him.  She’s very high energy.  She could run up and down the stairs after a ball all day.  I wanted something she and the girls would really have fun playing with.

I never expected to end up with a PUPPY.

We found her on craigslist.  Supposedly the guy had bought her for his son he has on the weekends and the care throughout the week (without his kid there to help) was too much.  I say supposedly because “supposedly” she was wormed and mostly housebroken too…  and both of those were big fat lies.

I took her to our vet immediately the next day and she tested positive for both roundworms and fleas.  Poor baby.  We’ve also started her on her puppy shots, and until she gets all three, she can’t be around other potentially infected dogs.  Which means she gets to make the Christmas rounds with us this year.  (That Man is so thrilled.  NOT.)

She’s also “supposedly” purebred American bulldog but she can’t be purebred — she’s just too small.  But she’s awfully darned cute and we didn’t care about the purebred thing at all.  Plus smaller is good for us.

Other than the potty training (which is actually going pretty well), the hardest thing of all was naming her.  She needed a cute name to match her perky ears and assertive personality (she growled at KC upon their first meeting).  Mom and Dad wanted to name her Sunshine (so we’d have KC and the Sunshine band, snort), but the monsters didn’t get it.  They wanted to name her either Kona or Cocoa.

It was like WWIII around here, people.  So the puppy’s name is officially KoKoKoNa.  I hope she can live up to such a mouthful.  Here are both dogs pictured with the monsters (our Christmas cards this year):

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Change in the Air

As with any sorrow or tragedy, I think it’s human nature to stop and count your blessings.  To be thankful for what you still have — and maybe change some of your priorities.

I’ve been taking a hard look at my writing this year and asking some questions I still don’t have the answer for.  Why am I struggling to finish Sig’s story?  Why has my word count gone down so much?  What’s next on the horizon?  Why do I feel so bruised and beat up?

I’m weary.  Maybe it’s real life hits we’ve taken this year, from losing Pepper our dog in March, to my grandpa, to my father-in-law of 24 years.  Maybe it’s the hard revisions I had to do on Tecun and Vicki this year to get them ready for release.  I know part of my weariness is definitely due to the blog promotions I did during that time.

I’m blogged out.  Hence the scarcity of posts here.  Some days I think I’ve already said it all.  And the things I need to say I can’t really say publicly.

It hit me today as I was mulling over this past year that I hit my nine-year writer birthday in September.  Nine years.  I’ve changed a lot in that time… and I have a feeling that I’m changing again.  Growth and change are never easy.

I think that’s why Sig is so difficult.

Lady Blackmyre — even though I wrote her story quickly — challenged me on many fronts.

I find myself looking for deeper meaning and messages in strange places.  And then wondering if I’m reading too much into everyday occurrences and regular writing business.  I used to hear the Call — and in answer, I could gallop full speed ahead.  Now I plod and strain to hear a whisper of where I should go.

I hate to plod.

But plod I must until I can figure out what I need.  This sounds cheesy but my writer soul is crying out for something.  I just can’t hear it.  Or I hear it, and I don’t understand what it’s saying.

It doesn’t help that an idea I had last year — and even had plotted on the wall in my office — never came to fruition.  Every day I had to look at that plot and be reminded of my failure to actually write it.  I just didn’t have the desire to work on it.  As if plotting it out was all my brain cared to do — it was done.  One by one the sticky notes started falling off the wall, yet I clung to that hope that maybe… someday…

Just today I’ve read about someone’s recent deal to a NY publisher for the same general premise.  If only I’d been able to find the time (more importantly, the desire) to write it.  If only I’d been able to shuffle things around.  If only…

It wasn’t meant to be.  Cross it off the list.  I have other things that demand my time anyway, and at the rate Sig’s going, I’ll be working on his project until I die.

If you’re worrying about which project got the axe, let me assure you that Sig is my #1 priority.  Mama Connagher and Mal (Mine to Break) are still very high on my to-do list.  I need some closure on these projects so I’m going to keep pushing.

But I think change is in the air.  What or how or when, I don’t know.  I just feel the need to blaze a new trail.  To go somewhere I’ve never gone before. My inner horse wants to kick down the stall doors and charge off into the wilderness again, wild and free.

So each day is a battle to rein that side of my muse in enough to even think about plodding on Sig.  I’m going back to my mini goal of just 250 words a day.  I have to get back into the story so I can finish.  It was nearly 30K already and only just getting into the main plot.

Maybe the last half of the story will fly.  Vulkar let it be so.

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Hug Your Loved Ones

We had the dreaded early AM phone call this morning.  When the phone rings that early, it’s never good news.

That Man’s father passed away unexpectedly in the middle of the night.  They were just here for Thanksgiving and we had a wonderful time.  I’m so thankful that we saw him, that the monsters have grown up with him in their lives.  That Man is taking it especially hard — he’s very close to all of his family.

So go hug your loved ones and keep us in your thoughts, please.  The second funeral in a month is taking a toll on us.

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Catching Up

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  We had a nice day with lots of family.  I didn’t burn anything so that’s always a win.  My pecan pie set up perfectly this time.  I also decided to try and make a cherry pie for the first time.

Oh. My.  It was sooooo good.  Cherry pie’s definitely on my go-to list now and it was incredibly easy.  I was just shocked at how expensive the cherries were!  Two cans = $10 for one pie.

I’ve played a lot of Big Fish Games lately.  The new Mystery Case Files hidden object game was fun.  Then I hit the new Fishdom game too.  Yes, I play them all, even match games.  (Between my beloved sister and I, we probably own most of their games!)

Yeah, see how exciting I am?  The important thing to note here is that I haven’t been writing.  I just haven’t felt like it.  This is hugely unusual for me, especially for it to go so long.  I also haven’t done the greatest on my diet (see cherry pie above).  So I kicked myself in the fanny yesterday (easier to do now that it’s getting bigger again) and got back on the WW tracking and Power 90.  I was pretty sore today so I didn’t work out today, but I plan to get at least 3 days in this week and hit it full force next week.

I have to do this.  If you’re in a building that’s on fire, do you sit around and hope someone else will come along and put the fire out?  Or do you book it out of the building, even if you have to go out a window?  Yeah.  So here’s me jumping out the window and getting back on track.

As for writing, I did have the beginnings of the urge to work again yesterday.  A trilogy of titles came to me and they’re really strong.  Really interesting.  I let myself brainstorm a little on them today and played with my tarot cards.  It’s not the story I need to be doing, but a little work is a good sign.

Fair warning, Sig.  I’m coming for you.  Very soon.

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NaNo Day 0

NaNoWriMo has defeated me this year.  It’s just not going to happen.  Between another Evil Day Job project that must be complete by the end of the month, hosting Thanksgiving and all the cleaning and preparation, and Sig’s obstinance, I haven’t even opened my file in several days.

I lost momentum last weekend.  We drove to Granny’s for an early Thanksgiving, and my brain decided to take a vacation.  Literally.  I’ve been on a mental holiday since.  I’ve played a lot of games and had my nose to the grindstone at work all week.

On the home front, I’ve cleaned the complete pit of a basement, thrown away tons of trash and broken toys, stacked a huge pile of toys to donate, cleaned the fridge, re-organized my two pantries, and gathered a stack of small appliances to either sell on craigslist or donate.

This weekend, I still need to go through the kids’ clothes, donate what they’ve outgrown, put away all the summer stuff, and drag out the winter clothes.

The carpet cleaners are coming Monday.

The turkey’s thawing in the downstairs fridge.

I have a huge Thanksgiving prep spreadsheet going.

Hopefully the week’s break from Sig has let my subconscious churn a little on where I want to go with Sig’s story.  If I can finish the first draft this year, I’ll count it a huge victory, even if I’m nowhere close to hitting 50K by the end of the month.

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NaNoWriMo Day 008

In which I fall behind…

I only got 800+ words election night.  Last night was even worse.  I still have hope for tonight, but man, it’s slow going.  The words just don’t have any life.  I know the plot, the characters, everything, but there’s just no energy and vibrancy to the words.

I just have to keep going.  Keep pushing.  The magic is there.  I just have to find it.

On the bright side, I’m off tomorrow and Monday.  Hopefully I can make up some lost ground.  Total (before tonight’s work):  10,996 words

Snippet (still not NaNoWriMo material):

Bloody hell.  She’s brought us to a sex shop.

Sig gritted his teeth, sure his face had exploded in fire.  He shot a subtle look at the other man to see his reaction.

Studying the chains and clamps, Masters whispered, “I guess my handcuffs aren’t enough for her any longer.”

A surge of fury and shame swept through Sig so viciously he trembled.  “Enough for me, you mean.  Is that what this is about?”

Masters arched a brow at him.  “I have no idea what the lady’s about.  You know her better than I.”

Do I?  Shaken, Sig slipped closer to her so he could overhear her quiet words to the young woman running the back counter.  He tried to be invisible, making himself small and thin and dark, barely even breathing.  But the young woman’s eyes flickered his way and she gave him a small, knowing smile.

“Very good,” Charlie said.  “May I try a few to make sure I select the correct grip?”

“Of course.”  The shopkeeper pulled down several short-handled crops and flails.  “These look to be the best length for your arm and height.  This one,” she pointed to a flail with thin tails of cloth, “delivers the softest blow.  This one uses beads and leather to deliver more pain without the same cutting strike.  Which do you think will suit your needs best?”

Charlie chuckled softly.  “I don’t honestly know.  I’m afraid I’m a novice at all this.  However…”  She trailed her fingers over the braided detail of the leather flail.  White cording made an intricate webbing about the black leather.  “I find this design the most interesting.  What do you think, Sig?”

“I despise it.”  His lips felt so tight that he could barely speak.  “Why would you even think I’d like such a thing?”

She tilted her head, her eyes wide with mock surprise that made him quiver with rage.  “Why on earth would you assume it’s for you?”