Writer’s Journey

NaNoWriMo update

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“The first draft is just you telling yourself the story.” ― Terry Pratchett
Making progress… Death and I by Lyn Crain
21,203 Words
28,797 To Go
42.4 % accomplished
I don’t know how people do it, my fingers ache at night, one wrist is screaming at me. I’m crazy and I’m loving every moment. I see my first draft as an elaborate outline, The editing process will be so much fun because I’m taking it from 3rd person to 1st person. My character is too strong to let someone else tell her story.
“Writing is a struggle against silence.” ― Carlos Fuentes
Mairin chose today to be silent. I was frustrated and ready to jump off a cliff when I decided to reach out and ask for help. Marcus answered the call and guided me away from the cliff. His advice was to get inside her head, make her angry to talk and she will. You’re good at pushing buttons … do it.
I wrote the doctors conversation with him being condescending bordering on bullying. I used a doctor from my previous life as my role model and how he treated me. I remembered the rage I felt and it helped because Mairin responded. She surprised me with the anger that came out on the page.
I’m lucky in some ways that other writers aren’t I have an awesome writing family. We bounce ideas and give each other honest feedback. Marcus, Victor, Sara, Debbie, Raz, Jeffrey and my hubby are awesome. If you’re struggling with your writing, I suggest joining a writing group or get involved in one online. Ask questions, and keep asking questions until you get what you need.

“You don’t know you exist until you see your name chiseled in stone or on the cover of your book.  That’s when you become immortalized.”~Lyn Crain

Laws, Economics and Violence

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Burying one’s head in the sand doesn’t help either. People have to want change for it to happen which means getting involved, voting and taking responsibility for one’s actions.

Vic Crain's avatarCRAIN'S COMMENTS

Nothing in life is simple. Humans have been craving simplicity for longer than recorded e93ef18bacf9979b7c79d2ff00aa8404history exists. Thunder is a god going bowling? Nope. A god created the world in six days? Nope. Thor makes lightning with his hammer? Nope.

A deity doesn’t want people to eat pork? Nope. It’s trichinosis.

Humans crave simplicity because anything else takes work? That’s a possibility. Intense thinking is work.

Simplicity is a mirage.

Let’s take a policy example. The theory is that if everyone has guns, there will be fewer shootings because bad people will be afraid of getting shot. Nope, it doesn’t work that way.

St. Louis has lax gun laws and is the murder capital of the US. Civilians can carry a gun in a car in St. Louis without a permit. That’s illegal in Chicago, Detroit, New York and Baltimore — and St. Louis has a much higher murder rate than…

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Quote and NaNoWriMo update

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“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”~ Edgar Allen Poe

19,148 words thus far in Death and I, the story of Mairin, Bruce, and Death.

This weekend I wrote three found poems with snippets of the NY Times again. I had a great helper too. Macavity laid on the snippets and moved several which ended up being just what I needed. I used pieces of the different poems in my story with Mairin, too, so my cutting the newspaper became an exercise in creative thinking.

Phantom Threat

A family portrait for all humanity

blood, sweat, toil, and tears

unraveling racial hatred

prompts  crisis

in the darkest hours

of rivers and rituals

Happiness is for other people

those who stay

the once mediocre

seek some calm

apologize again

for them, it’s not discrimination

but

A war of words underway

The screaming just won’t stop

until

we seek our way to death.

*************************************************************************************

An enlightened friendship

when coffee brews a different spirit

in all its realness

speaks

Sweetness with a side of sarcasm.

*********************************************************

The metamorphosis

is an unwanted

brutal final indignity.

It penalizes what we had

in the

years of relying on what

no one knows.

The dots to greatness

remain unknown.

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Yup, he had a good idea. The coffee poem and the metamorphosis both improved with his help.

Motivational Quote and Me

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“Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.”
― Yoko Ono

A lady I knew in Maine, my rival when it came to Halloween decorations passed away unexpectedly yesterday. We’re the same age, and our children are the same ages. I was reminded how short our lives truly are.

I want to take a moment for the families in Texas whose world was turned upside down in a moment of violence. They are in our prayers. I don’t understand why anyone would do that to another human being.

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I’ve written 8650 words, monumental for me in 5 days. I was feeling overwhelmed with my character so I decided to take a mental health break. I made a Thanksgiving centerpiece wreath for our table. It went to together easy enough considering this is my very first attempt at making a wreath. (Yup, I followed a youtube video.) The glitter all over the floor was messy and everywhere with help from Macavity. Overall the project took just over two hours from start to finish and the result was very eye appealing.

The Mistletoe Murder
of
Philosophers and
Other Lovers
in what once
was a nation
now
A Gambler’s Anatomy
In this
City of Dreams
Where America Begins

Judge Not
The Whistler
The Man Who Chose
To Exile
Rogue Heroes
In the
March of the Lexicon

Surprise
Words on the Move
Cruel Beautiful World
It’s no longer
Seriously Sweet
When Music Was Life and Death

no
Escape Clause
to
The Wrong Side of Goodbye
in a Sleeping World
oh
The Mortifications
Bless Me
for I Will Sin©

Enjoy your Monday.  I need to go Mairin, Bruce and Death are calling.

A quote and scraps of today

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“The woman who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has been before.” —Albert Einstein

I wrote 3295 words this morning. I got up at 6am and sat writing until noon. I didn’t move except to refill my coffee and to use the bathroom. I decided that I better move around some I worked on taking down Halloween and putting up Thanksgiving. It’s disappointing to me how few decorations there are.

Outside the house, all signs of Halloween have disappeared for another year. Hopefully, we will be living somewhere new by the time Halloween rolls around again. I’m looking forward to next the adventure. I put the scarecrows and the turkey by the front door. I hung a turkey on the storm door. The living room is packed up but that’s as far as I went today.

I decided to have raw veggies, some pepperoni and a cup of tea for dinner and work on the edits Raz sent back. I finished that and decided to work on some more writing. I lost all track of time, missed Grey’s Anatomy again. 😦 but I did churn out 3000 more words.

I haven’t re-read what I wrote yet. I’m happy with calling it a night. I’ll edit tomorrow. I just want to be ahead so I can some quality time with my husband.

I even started a crazy poem today that I’m going to use in my story Death and I

I toss another swig back

 feel my lips pucker and eyes bulge.

 I know there’s mascara streaks

 running down my face.

It hardly matters now.

I wish I’d known love

was cruel before

It played me like a fool.

I’m always wiser

when it’s too late.

 So liquor is my new love of choice

I drink your memory away

My friends warn me

drinking is a problem

that it will be the death of me.

Will that even matter?

who knew salvation’s possible

a sip at a time

 til bottle’s empty.©

 

 

On Halloween Eve

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I’ve found myself studying the clock… 3 hours until NaNoWriMo officially begins. Do I go to bed and begin when I rise or do I watch the clock count down and jump in as soon as the clock strikes 12:01am. There are 720 hours or 43, 200 minutes in the month of November. I need to write 1667 words a day or 6.5 pages to meet this goal. I know it’s a do-able goal and there are many successful authors who have done it.

Then I look at myself in the mirror and question my sanity.  Then… that dang muse of mine reminds that looking for sanity at this point in my life is hilarious. I haven’t needed it thus far, why do I want it now. Okay, I’ll give my wise-ass muse that point.

The truth of the matter is I really am a driven person, I hate failing. I hate not accomplishing a goal when I set one.  However, I wasn’t always like this. There was a point in my life when fear crippled me. Charlotte Eriksson wrote this quote and it summed how I felt for years until I became friends with Vic.

“I thought that if I owned nothing, had nothing, was nothing, I would have nothing left to lose, and I wouldn’t be scared anymore. Because my whole life I’ve been so damn scared. Scared to live because I was scared to death. But at the same I was so scared of living, so I wanted to die. Or maybe so scared of dying that I refused to live.”

He’s patiently encouraged me, stood beside me when I needed strength and laughed with me when I realized that I was truly my own worst enemy. He’s my best friend, my lover and my husband. Today is our 9th wedding anniversary, yes we married on Halloween. He is my biggest champion when it comes to writing. I am truly blessed to have his support on this writing adventure in November. I also know that he will help me stay sane and keep me from losing it if I get stuck.

The key I’ve been told is to write and to do it every day. The words will come and in the end, regardless of the word count success will follow.  I need to remember that the real goal is to write, let that happen and not fixate on 50,000. Don’t fall prey to the double edge sword that breaks so many writer’s dreams.

“The Sun will rise and set regardless. What we choose to do with the light while it’s here is up to us. Journey wisely.”
― Alexandra Elle

I love you, Victor Crain. Thank you for being my best friend and my soul mate.

Quote and updates

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“A quiet and modest life brings more joy than a pursuit of success bound with constant unrest.”~ Albert Einstein

Our Halloween party was a lot of fun with good friends and an awesome conversation always. I was Charlie Brown for the evening. I shaved my head bald and added the one curly cue on the front of my head with black eyeliner and on the back was the pumpkin face that Lucy had drawn from the show. I wore a yellow and black shirt like his with shorts and ankle socks to finish the look. My hubby was the angry cat, my grandson was a wolf. Among our guests we had Julius Caesar, Athenia,  a vampiress,  a demon, a  star Trekkie,  a hazmat worker, a rainbow unicorn, an executive, a musician, a cowboy, a zombie… just to name a few. Like most parties, we also had those who came and didn’t dress up. The companionship was awesome. I enjoy entertaining especially setting the scene and the prep work.

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This afternoon a friend of mine, Sara and I joined some other writing friends from our local writing at a coffeehouse meeting in Willow Grove where we had the pleasure of meeting Jon Mcgoran and Keith Strunk. There were so many different genre writers published and unpublished filling the meeting area at Barnes and Noble.  The discussion about the process— how we approach our writing was interesting. Some outline, some just free write, and others do binge writing and then stop and come back to it with the hope as they write a story will appear. It’s knowing how we work and understanding what it takes for each of us to write is important. We all need to use what works best for us and go with it. There is no wrong or right way, we simply have to do it. The meeting flew by before I knew it. What I did learn today is how important it is to be with other writers to replenish our wells, validate in our own minds that we’re sane in our love affair with words. One of the writers today at coffeehouse also gave an awesome reminder too. It’s not going to be a perfect piece of work, it may very well be a piece of crap. The important part is to meet the goal and then worry about polishing it.  Sitting down every day and doing it… that is the key to success. I felt rejuvenated and ready to do next month’s writing challenge.

I’ve completed all the prep work on Writing. com two days early. I met the deadline and feel good about all my prep work.

“Strength and growth come only through continuous effort and struggle.” —Napoleon Hill

“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” —Friedrich Nietzsche

 

One of my scenes in Death and I

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In the Cemetery
Mairin found herself wandering again in the cemetery. Sleep was elusive these days. She found it harder and harder to sleep knowing that her inevitable demise was a reality. Cancer, that terrifying six letter word changed her perspective on a lot of things these days.
She wandered off the cobblestone path in search of the trickling water sound because of a sudden urge to put her toes in the icy water of the stream that ran along the cemetery. She’d forgotten about the meadow, it would be a superb place to lie on a blanket and read a book some afternoon. Mairin didn’t recall seeing a headstone before over here. Strange place for it and why does this gravestone sit alone?
Mairin was sure there must be more to this unresolved story than meets the eye. Why this crooked headstone isn’t perfect like all the other stones in Craven’s Loft Cemetery. The stone carver would be disappointed to see his work isolated and in such bad shape. She felt confident there was a good reason it was placed in this leaf-strewn meadow along the stream’s edge but looking around under this fog-shrouded moon the answer wasn’t clear. What was clear that sleepless nights were becoming her norm. The tall pines cast an eerie shadow but the earthy aroma felt comforting in this lonely place.
Mairin traced her finger across the stone edge. The cold granite felt smooth like glass except for the right corner. Ow, damn it, that hurt. Mairin looked at the blood trickling from her finger. She sucked on her finger savoring the salty taste as she noted the name on the stone. Bruce Lewis. Oh my god, that can’t be. Mairin stumbled back. Her feet refused to budge and her knees buckled. She collapsed on the ground.She shook more than the birch trees in the night breeze as she read.
Bruce Lewis age 64 years of age. The marker said deceased on October 31, 2001. October 31st 2001, that’s a year from now. The birthdate read March 3, 1953. What the hell was going on? The name and birth date are correct but he’s not dead. Bruce was very much alive. Bruce was on a business trip and was due back on Friday. Mairin trembled knowing there was something creepy but she couldn’t for the life of her imagine what. She looked around feeling uneasy when she noticed lying beside the stone a lacy black glove haphazardly across some dried maple leaves. The fog dissipated and the moon glowed brightly above her as Mairin picked up the strangely familiar glove. It’s not possible but there were three black pearl buttons along the edge. It can’t be…. how did my glove end up here?
The wind rustled the pine and the pungent aroma wafted in the air. Mairin staggered to her feet with the glove tightly. Her throat felt raw and scratchy as she retraced her steps back to the main walkway out of the cemetery. None of this made any sense. She should call Bruce and tell him what she discovered. On second thought probably not. He already thinks she’s losing her mind since she got the diagnosis.

534 w/c

Random Thoughts

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“She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.
She walked with the Universe on her shoulders and made it look like a pair of wings.” ― Ariana Dancu
I posted my entry in the NaNoPrep a few minutes ago for today and the date hit home. There are only eleven days left in this month and November is here. I have so much work left to get myself ready to do the 50,000-word challenge. 1667 words a day.  I’ve decided to block out every morning for 3 and hours and write no matter what. Then get what I need to do otherwise for the Airbnb part of my life and then if I have more writing I can go back to it. A pot of coffee and 5 CDs of dark classical music playing my muse and Narda should be happy. Yes, that’s witchy’s name.  Someday, I’ll tell you her story but for now, I need to get back to scene building.

 

 

If I’m feeling stagnated I do have lots of inspiration surrounding me. Normally, I take everything down the first week of November we’ll see how that goes this year. I may have Halloween, Thanksgiving decorations joining my Christmas.

 

My Muse Asks Why?

Why does her headstone sit alone?
There must be more to this unresolved story
as to why a crooked cross headstone
is not restored to its former glory.
Sadly, it sits neglected in a leaf-strewn meadow.
How lonely it must feel under the fog-shrouded moon
with those tall trees casting an eerie shadow.
Hardly a place for families come to commune
They are all resting in such a lonely place.
One stone indicates a family man but
another indicates nothing, was there a family disgrace?
If only the spirits would help solve this mystery
why several names share the same stone.
I’m sure there must be an interesting history
As to why the neglected headstone sits all alone

with a lacy black glove haphazardly lying across. ©
My character Mairin in the story knows why, but she’s not ready to say. Though I will give you one itty bitty clue the black glove plays an integral part.
If you lived closer I’d say come join us at our annual Halloween costume event. This year it is on Saturday, October 28th. The house is decorated to the nines and most of the baking is done. I have a good friend coming on Wednesday and together we’ll finish the last minute stuff.

 

Motivational Quote About Inciting Incidences

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” A novel can be set in motion by an incident, a character, a location, a mood,  by anything at all Sometimes the stimulus can be an idea, which will rapidly clothe itself in a character.” Cynthia Ozick

  • The inciting incident happens in the first act.
  • The inciting incident happens to the protagonist.
  • The protagonist is usually passive at this juncture; the inciting incident is generally set in motion by someone or something else (a letter, a visit, an encounter)