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Or just a mind that thinks too much. |
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A place to practice my writing. Also where I will put my random thoughts, ideas, rants, and whatever else I have to say. ** Image ID #1901871 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1779494 Unavailable ** |
| Christmas music lightly plays in the backround while I sit and ponder what items to add to my list of things to buy. I know what your thinking and no I have not started my shopping for the upcoming holiday. Christmas is less than a week away and I plan to start soon. If moms were counted in the naughty list, I would make the top. I barely put my tree up. Soon I will join the hundreds of last minute shoppers hurrying down the isles hoping to find the items they need. This year my list is quite small in comparison to previous years, and my focus is on the small children in my immediate family. Should be a piece of cake right? Why do I have a feeling my small budget might mysteriously expand? I should bring back up. Preferably my husband to keep me in check. On the other hand, I checked all the sale papers... I really need a new purse and matching boots... I am so on the naughty list.  |
| I did a bad thing the other day. I forgot my husband’s birthday. OH NO! Some of you are shaking your heads in disapproval. Some of you are disappointed and will never ever speak to me again. I understand. Did you know I forgot my anniversary too? OMG! You can hate me now. I remembered when I heard my hubby’s phone ring and a cheery voice on the other end sang him happy birthday. It was my mother. I knew I was in the doghouse then. I arranged a last minute birthday party, which turned out to be a disaster. I am officially banned from the kitchen. Totally fine with me, except I feel the need to cook something now. You know that feeling you get when someone says you can’t do something? When your rebellious nature comes out and you want to do it anyway? I think it’s a trick. Like reverse psychology. One of my characters did that to me. I wasn’t planning to write him in until later in the story, and even then, it was supposed to be a small but significant part. He ended up in the third chapter and is now one of the main characters. He tricked me, promised he wouldn’t stay too long. Funny how your characters have a mind of their own. I thought I was in charge here. I guess not. Maybe I am a bad influence on them. They shouldn’t hang around with someone like me. I am a crazy sleep deprived mother who is banned from her own kitchen. You people shouldn’t talk to me. I could rub off on you and then suddenly you’re forgetting birthdays and anniversaries. Run away. Save yourselves. |
| Last year around this time, I resolved to write everyday. I decided to finally write down the stories that were in my head since I was a little girl. Don't ask me why I never thought of this before. I don't have an answer for you. I think and this is pushing it, I needed someone to tell me it was okay to do it. I never thought of myself as a writer, only as a story teller. There used to be a difference if you look at it in the literal way that I did. I thought I was only allowed to speak my story to whomever would listen. When I mentioned once to my mother that I was thinking of writing a novel, she scoffed and laughed at me. I didn't take it to heart since she is the same person who laughed at me when I told her I was going to college or renew my wedding vows. She is an extremely narrow minded woman who lives in a tiny box and everything outside of her safe haven terrifies her or simply cannot be true. But I swear that woman can cook. I truly believe I was adopted. Anyway, I am not going to bore you with my mommy issues. The point I am trying to get at is, after years of hearing you can't do this or that, I thought I needed permission to write. One day, while shopping at Target with my daughter, I picked up a cute notebook. I thought I would try writing in it and see what happened. A month later, I went back and picked up another one. Every day after that I would park my truck in front of my daughters school a half hour early, pull out my notebook and write until the last second. My goal was to get the story out. I didn't worry about anything else. I knew I could fix later. I relished those thirty minutes with my notebook, and soon it became ratty and worn but held strong. I wrote every chance I could and lost many hours of sleep. I carried my notebook in my over sized purse and had it on hand whenever I needed to jot something down. It didn't take long for my family to catch on to me and to my surprise was overwhelmed with support from my father. Growing up in a large household, my father worked long hours seven days a week, so I barely seen him or developed a good relationship with him. I always had great respect for him. He was a hard worker and my definition of a real man. So when I saw the proud look in his eyes, I resolved to continue writing. I committed to writing everyday, even if it was a little paragraph. Once I wrote a single sentence. That sentence remained hidden in my trusty notebook for months on end, until one day, I came across it at a glance. It triggered a story and that story is turning out to be bigger than I expected. I write down my dreams as well, because I dream in stories. My characters haunt me in my sleep. If I don't write them down they keep returning until I break down and give them life. Immortality on the page. I am smiling now, thinking of the good deeds I have done for my characters who only ask that I tell their story. So everyday I write, whether or not it is good. ( I am never satisfied with my writing, I always strive to do better.) I have stuck with my goal to write everyday and I have become a better writer for it. |
| Today, my husband suggested I set up the Christmas tree. When I grumbled something illegible but hostile towards him, he threw me under the bus and told the kids, I did not want to put up the tree. GRRR. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I did. I just did not want to do it today. I wasn’t feeling the good Christmas vibes and I didn’t want to unbury the boxes of ornaments. I couldn’t say no to my children’s wide puppy dog eyes, so I reluctantly went down to the cold basement. An hour later, I emerged with Christmas décor and our Great Blizzard Tree. We call it that because we literally drove through a blizzard to get it. Anyway, I come up thinking this won’t take long. We put up the tree, then the ornaments, and we’ll be ready for the holidays. Piece of cake right? Wrong. My husband decided to rearrange the furniture and left the children to run amuck unsupervised. Toys lay scattered in every corner of the house, furniture askew, children jumping about with evidence of frosting on their faces and bad Christmas music playing in the background. The music got to me. I cleaned the toys, calmed the children, shooed my husband away and righted the furniture, adding another couple of hours of work plus a short break to feed the kids. This was supposed to be fun and quick, not hours of cleaning and fixing my furniture. I was at my breaking point. I almost had a meltdown. If it weren’t for CV and K, I would have gone evil on my familia. After a few witty text messages, they had me laughing so hard, every ounce of frustration was gone. Granted my husband and kids were staring at me as if I were insane because of my sudden outbursts of laughter, but it did not matter anymore. I am so grateful to have friends like them. A big fat thanks to you lovely ladies. Friends are a valuable asset in my life and I cherish each one. Life is not so bad when you’re not alone. Happy to have them in my life. Four hours later, my tree was up and most of the decorations were on. Tomorrow we will see Santa Clause and the kids will have a blast. The spirit of Christmas will fill our home, and I hope that my Scrooge-ness will be gone. No guarantees. |
| I had an hour to myself today. I spent fourty five minutes writing in my blog. It was good stuff. I had the time alone for once. I was so excited to post a great piece, I didn't check and make sure it posted. I lost it. I can't remember what I wrote and I am kicking myself for not saving it first like I always do. Oh well. Lesson learned. |
| If we knew what we were doing, it would not be called research would it? - Albert Einstein Taking a short break. Will be back tomorrow. |
| Writing is a way of working out some tough issues in my life. I wrote the first ten chapters of my novel while going through an extremely difficult life situation. Each chapter like a therapy session. While my fingers pounded away on the keyboard or scribbled in my notebook, all my worries vanished and I escaped into my world. This world is my favorite place to be outside of reality. When things go wrong, It is because I write it that way and I know I can fix anything with a swipe of my pen or push of a button. Applying those same principles in real life doesn't work, but it is fun to try. Mornings are hectic in my home. Waking the kids up for school, breakfast, making sure they get dressed, fed and out the door in a short amount of time does things with my nerves. Instead of yelling or simply throwing the towel in and let them run a muck, I stop, hit the imaginary delete key and start over. My husband repeatedly reminds me that having a schedule and being organized is key. I also remind him that I am organized in my own disorganized way and I don't like schedules. The truth is keeping to a schedule is a challenge at times. Obstacles are thrown my way throughout the day and and staying on schedule is more of a headache and by the end of the day I am a frazzled mess. I take things as they come and so far, this is the least stressful and most successful tactic. As I write this, my son is leaping from the top of the sofa onto me. His way of saying he wants attention. This means my writing has to stop and maybe later, if I'm lucky, I will have a few minutes to get some writing in. At least I wrote something today. |
| I've been working on my novel these past couple of days. I realize now how much I have missed my little world. I thought it was a good idea to stop for a while and mull over a few things. I don't know if that was a good idea. Getting back in my world is no problem at all. It was easy and smooth. I am wondering now where the story would have gone if I continued writing and what my characters would have ended up. What ifs are stupid, my husband says. Maybe he's right. But in my writing world, what if is the main question I ask myself before I type anything. What if Leila falls for another guy and leaves Dekker? What if she gives up? What if she makes a different choice? I wish I had time to write about all the what ifs and compare them. Since that is not an option for me, I make a choice and go with it. See where it takes my characters and what happens to them in the process. If I don't like it, I'll save it and start anew. I might use the saved part later, or never look at it again. I hate erasing my thoughts. Besides, it might come in handy later. It could be a seed for a new story or a poem. Yesterday, the weather was creepy. I wrote about the trees and the howling wind and how that made me feel. I wrote everything I could think of and saved it. I'm mulling it over now. My initial reaction was to write a poem, but now I'm thinking I should incorporate it into this short story I'm thinking about. What if I write both? I could even create a scene and use it in all my stories. Like my signature or something. So many choices. How do I know which one is the right one? Instinct. I learned early on in life to follow my instincts. Most of the time they are gut feelings and sometimes, more so lately, they come in my dreams. Once when I was a teen, still living at home, I had a dream that I was in a car wreck. I saw every detail, down to the song playing on the radio. Later on that evening, my mother sent me on an errand in her car. My instincts told me to decline, but as an anxious teenager, I wanted the car every chance I could. The car accident happened and it was exactly as I saw it in my dream. The song on the radio was the same. I walked away unscathed, and the first thing that came to mind was that I should have trusted my instincts. When I write, I go with my instincts a hundred percent. Even if the story doesn't turn out that good. The important parts are there and I can fix the rest. When I try to make the story go the way I want it to, it looks artificial. The best work I have done is when I follow my instincts. I can't try to hard, it shows and my work is sad and lame. When I stress out about what I write, it shows too. With some major encouragement I have gone back to my passion, my novel. I love this story with every ounce of love I have. It's one of my children so to speak, and I try to give it as much attention and love as I can. I feel guilty for neglecting it for so long, but I am glad to be back in my little world. My characters are happy to see me. My main character is pissed off but I know she still loves me. I am telling her story after all. We need each other. I'll be posting more of my story soon. Grammar is my enemy and I have my own battles to deal with. My muse is dancing today and I love watching her pirouette across my page. What if let her dance all night? |
| Another cold day approaches and I begin the proper preparations. Tiny gloves and scarves are put into the drawers, fall sweaters are replaced with thick winter jackets, and tiny feet are measured for new boots. Winter is no longer creeping around the corner teasing me with its frosty breath. I am ready! My cousin and I were texting back and forth for most of the day today. I'm loving my new phone and all the new features on it that keep me entertained and away from daily chores. Both of my kids were reaping the benefits as well. We watched a couple episodes of their favorite cartoons and a movie. My husband was online most of the day reading up on the cool features and shortcuts and what not. I wasn't surprised when he informed me that there is a forum set up for the phone. There is a forum for everything nowadays. I feel like a child playing with his new toy, or a baby fascinated by something glittery. I had to laugh out loud when my children scolded my husband and me for playing with our phones too long. I handed it over to my daughter, who put it in the other room so I wouldn't touch it. My husband got away with keeping his because he told her he was going to download a kids app for her. That sneaky man. I should have thought of that first.  A really good thing came out of this phone obsession, and that is the fact that I wasn't stressed out about writing. In fact, I didn't think about it. OK I'm totally lying. I was thinking about it but not stressing about it like I have been lately. I posted the first chapter of one of my novels the other day. I wasn't planning on ever doing this or even showing anyone, but a few women I have become friends with on this site really encouraged me to do it. Actually, it was more like peer pressured and threatened me. Kidding on the threatening part. Seriously, they have been a great support system, along with a couple of my fellow bloggers who encourage me to write every day. I am truly grateful for meeting them. I would probably still be walking around in limbo with out them. (I hate when I get like this. *wipes tear*) Sorry, no more cheesy sappy stuff. Anyway, I took a big step and posted this chapter. I know it needs work, but I don't feel so alone in my writing world anymore and thanks to my phone, I am de-stressed and able to let my muse skip around and do her funky little dance. She's a strange one, a unique and free spirited soul. Sometimes she dances too fast for me and my fingers struggle to catch up. One day I'll be able to translate her perfectly on the page. Then I'll be doing her funky little dance.  Here's the chapter if your up for a little teaser. I'll be posting more very very soon. Feel free to comment on any improvements needed. I would love the feedback.
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| My husband surprised me today with a late birthday present. It wasn't much, nothing like jewelry or a new car. I don't need any of that, but it was the question of the day when I mentioned to my sisters that he got me a gift. It doesn't take much to please me, a card would do. And over the years he's been creative with cute and funny letters that put a smile on my face and a fuzzy feeling in my heart. I was a little disappointed this year when I didn't get one. I kept it to myself and went about my week. No need to make a fuss right? After a successful preschool drop off, (hooray) my husband drove us to the nearest best buy and told me to pick out a new phone. I did and I have been stuck on it all day. The only reason I put it down was because it needed to be charged. This is a cool phone, and the speed is amazing. My old phone, the HTC Touch Pro 2 is a dinosaur compared to my new Evo 4g. I am an app junkie too. LOL. My I Pod is full of apps I don't need and never use. I am addicted to the free apps finder app. This app tells you what full version apps are currently free and it changes everyday. Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm telling you about my app problem. I could tell you about my Amazon.com addiction I had last year. Thankfully, I have stayed away from E bay. Truth be told, I am writing just to write. A touch of writers block is upon me and putting something down will hopefully cure the symptoms before it becomes a full blown sickness. This is really a first for me. I usually always have something to say, and if I don't write it's because I don't have the time. I thought being around my family for the holidays would be a fun writing experience, but they behaved for the most part, and my birthday plans have been postponed for the upcoming weekend. I hope my sister forgets anyway. I would rather stay home and read or sleep. I've written some short stories and poems and posted them on this site since I've joined. I like them and I am proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone. I love poetry and although I need much practice, I enjoy putting together rhymes. I like the rhyming kind if you haven't read any of my work. My short stories are cool for contest entries that limit me to a certain word count. If I wanted to I could write and write forever about my characters. Until a few days ago the only writing I have done is some editing, reviewing, and of course my blog. Starting this blog was a blessing. I don't know why and I'm sure it's just me; but, I feel better when I put something down in the entry box. A line or two or a few pages, means I wrote something today. On the days I absolutely cannot write anything I am devastated. I mope about like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, feeling sorry for myself. My husband teases me about it, and sometimes even helps put the kids to bed early or keep them out of my room for thirty minutes because he feels sorry for me. That's hard to do with my kids. They love to be with mamma. Lol. He did that for me today, he even brought me a cup of tea. I think he finally understands that I am serious about writing and maybe even supports me. Bringing me the tea is his way of showing that support. He's not the super romantic in tune with all my feelings kind of guy. He's the total opposite of my characters and I'm OK with that. It takes him a while, but he eventually get where I need him to be. Kind of like my stories. It takes time but I get there, eventually. I feel better now. I wrote something today. |
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