tastes change

The MIL had a huge collection of recipes.  I'd like to think that she had a rule that she could only keep recipes that she had actually tried.  Yes, I am in Fantasy Island here, but work with me.

I look at things she may or may not have made and jump to all kinds of conclusions.  Some accurate, some false, and others at all levels in between.

Life is like this, too.  At least mine is.  For years, I hated yellow and orange; now I have a closet full of yellow and most of my undies are orange (no idea how that happened, must have been when the dog was in a destructive phase).

Things I used to write, and love to write, no longer feel right.  But they still could draw an audience and in fan fiction, some of them still do.

Will I make any of these lovely salads?

Probably not.

But at least I have the options and if my tastes change, I can always come back.

Drag Queens, Anthems, Motivation ... all in one great place

Ever since the first time I dressed my younger brother in drag, not that he was willing or even aware of what I was doing at the time - but hey, drag is drag, I was enthralled.  Throughout high school and college I lent many a bra, skirt, and teddy to friends.  I even did their makeup.  I have had a lot of respect for a man willing to wear a wig and a dress.  No matter the reason, just as long as they didn't want to wear my shoes (my feet were small).

Frankly, most of the time, the men who do drag are far prettier than I ever hoped to be.  Face it ladies, a lot of those men have legs like race horses and the cellulite fairy doesn't come and visit them, either. Not to mention they spend far and away more time on personal grooming than most of us do.  They try harder because they have to and the results show for themselves.

I am winding around to my point, I promise...

Writing, even if it isn't very good, is incredibly lonely work.  It is just me and my imaginary friends.  Sometimes the plot bunnies get involved, but not always.  Just me, ample posterior in chair, fingers on keyboard, trying to listen to the voices in my head.

Some days it works, others not.

The bits I've written the fastest have had soundtracks playing when I wrote.  Anyone else fall in love with Alejandro Fernandez and Canta Corazon, or was it just me?  Hubby was more than a little pleased when I quit playing that particular track three to four hours per night.

Life does march on and soundtracks need to be updated.  Writers change.  Characters change.  Soundtracks should also change.

A couple of years ago, I became a true fan of RuPaul and RuPaul's Drag Race.  The things they go through, the hurdles society makes each of those men jump, astound me. I don't have the courage any of them have to do what they must, what they love. (I guess you could say, "I don't have the balls for that." No kidding.)

As the reining superstar of drag, he is very much Howard Stern, king of all media.  He performs, dances, acts, writes, and sings (think anthems set to a techno beat).

Believe it or not, the point of all of this is the music.  Very much about empowering himself/the listener, being true to yourself, and getting up and dusting yourself off.

Do I own Glamazon?  Yes.  Do I own Champion?  Yes. Will I buy his next album? Most likely.

These are the current soundtrack to my writing.  Reminders that there are always those who won't understand me, might be jealous (though I know not why), and determination to get on with job one.

While I might still enjoy A. Fernandez, and what's not to like, he has been eclipsed by a brighter star.  One with long legs, tiny waste, amazing smile, and tenacity.

I guess it's time for me to Work.  Can I get an amen up in here?

no more conferences, etc. on writing ... I mean it this time

For a long time, I wrote substantially without really 'knowing' (whatever that means) what I was doing.

Then I thought I'd become more professional ... all of the joy went out and was replaced by self-doubt ... kind of like a kid who loves to make mud pies and then giving them America's Test Kitchen's recipe for the perfect mud pie ... no more pies wind up getting made.

I have spent time worrying if I am a plotter or a pantser (do I make an outline or do I let the characters drive things) ... am I showing too much or telling too much?  just how boring am I, really? (very but that's not the point of this).

The other night I forced myself back to the keyboard and let a couple of favorite characters 'talk' to me ... and then I sent it to a couple of friends ... 200 words, no more.  Then I thought about it ... and I expanded it.

I put meat on the bone.  I am the opposite of the butcher who takes something big and makes it smaller ... and I don't necessarily know if I am going to wind up with a fillet mignon or New York strip ...

It isn't exactly an outline ... and daily I add to the beginning of what I have started ... I bounce ideas from those who are near and dear ... and who love a couple of specific characters to see if I am in character ... THEN I let things move, ebb and flow ...

I am not an expert and I don't play one on TV (or anywhere else anyone is likely to be) ... but I do know what works for me ... and I am invoking WWII's Winston Churchill - Keep Calm and Carry On ... ok - it is a paraphrase but you know what I mean.

voices in my head - the real Prince Charming(s)

I have never liked to sleep alone, probably because my sister and I shared the same bedroom forever - then there was the whole college/roommate thing. So when I was old enough to live by myself, I didn't much like the quiet in my bedroom.  I had fans to make white noise, a white noise machine, even a dachshund who snored, drooled, and took up most of a queen sized bed all by his lonesome.

The search for company while remaining commitment free began a long stream of (predominately) men talking me to sleep.  Think Jack Benny, Bob Hope, Garrison Keillor.  Once I learned the story (or the radio program), I could well sleep to it.  There is something about the old radio broadcasts that warms my heart and plays well to my imagination.

Fuzzy and I have worn through several tapes (yes, tapes,  I still own a tape player that works) and have gone to sleep with various stories throughout the years. It only took him two years to get used to it, but now these things go with us on trips out of town.

Sadly, his snoring got worse and he had a rotating sleep schedule and I can't beat him to dreamland.  Therefore, I started to sleep to things on the MP3 player.  The variety of books and old radio shows that are available from the library is AMAZING!  I could actually sleep with a different man talking into my ear every night.  Unfortunately, the ones that are repetitive are best because I don't stay awake to hear the rest of the story (remember Paul Harvey?  never mind).

What is my point?  Do I have one?

Sure.

I am in love with Christopher Healy's book:  The Hero's Guide Saving Your Kingdom.  It is a twist on the Princes Charming in all those fairy tales.  It turns out that there were four of them and not just one.  Also, the writing is smart, creative, enchanting, and freaking awesome.  (Bronson Pinchot does the narration for the audiobook and is himself outstanding ...)

Before you decide to be a naysayer and determine that a 'kids' book' just could never be for you, buy, rent, or borrow this, and read it aloud to your goldfish if that helps your guilt about laughing out loud.

my personal Prince Charming

I have it on very good authority he is wrong about that.  Prince Charming (see image of gorgeous canine) may not have had ballads written about him, but he had all of the heroic traits the others just wished for.  I don't think being canine should be a disqualification in the Price Charming contest, but that's just me.

Now, I'll wait for the milkman and the sandman (they are on the same route and rideshare to save on gas) to take me to dreamland.
  

Same Story, Different Title?

For a long time now, I've used the excuse about my writing that the 'muse was quiet.'

Ram/Evan aka Matt Jett Schaefer

Frankly, Raul has a MASSIVE crush on a character I used named Manny.  He has a smaller crush on Evan, but in his heart of hearts, there is only one MANNY.

Why do I bring this up?

Frankly, I loved Manny, too.

I know what kind of soap he uses ... his favorite brand of salsa (trick question, he makes his own) ... and what he likes to do in his off time, but we won't go there.

The problem?

I didn't want to recreate and rewrite the wheel.

But as I've been reading authors who do a lot of series work, even if the series has multiple hero types in it, the authors use the same themes/descriptions/plot devices. Sure it looks like things are different from story to story, but read enough of their work and you will find the repetition.

I have a feeling if I had ever read Jane Austen closely enough, or if she had written more than six books, she would have done the same thing.

My point and do I have one?

Sure.

A friend told me she collected books by Betty Neels.  She wrote 134ish books for Harlequin in the 60s through the 90s.

Why is this important (other than the massive output)?

Manny aka Alejandro Fernandez

The hero is virtually always a Dutch doctor and the woman is either a nurse or a caregiver or sorts (who is woefully underemployed).  The stories are quiet, chaste, and fairly simply laid out.

Therefore, I CAN and I WILL write Manny as many times as Raul wants me to - I will type a different name but it will always be the same man ... hey if it could work for Betty Neels, why not for me?

Speedbo, is it the next NaNoWriMo?

Writing is a many splendored thing ... it is the opportunity for those of us who hear voices in our heads avoid a trip to the doctor and play with new and interesting people no one else knows about and not worry about the little man in the white suit and the butterfly net.  Or so they say.  Who are THEY anyway?

What is the point?

Easy.

It is easier to write if someone else is reading and feeding you energy.  It is also easier to write if you've got a deadline.

Enter NaNoWriMo.  NaNo is National Novel Writing Month and exists every November to warm up the imagination before some of us have to write holiday letters ... it also exists to help get that novel that is stuck a way to come into existence.  (I know, too many ex words ... at least this isn't fun with line edits.)

In order to 'win' in Nano, you have to complete 50,000 words. A daunting task but doable.

Speedbo is the month of March.  

The good news?

No sweat about word count.

You can go back and revisit your work, if that's your style (something not encouraged in the Nano world).

Write every day and make it a habit.

Oh, prizes. (I haven't done a lot of looking around about that, but the month is young.)

So, I'll be doing a word counter and updating it this time - on the other blog. 

There will be very little looking over my shoulder for the man in the white suit because if he's wearing it this much before Memorial Day, which of us is nuts?

I want a Mulligan

Mulligan's are amazing.  A friend married a Mulligan, he's the nicest guy I know.  The stew is pretty good, it is the stew I was raised on plus cabbage.  Most bars named Mulligan are warm and fun places to hang out with friends.

The best Mulligan?

The Golf Mulligan.  Because in golf, the Mulligan is the do-over.  Actually, it is the penalty free do over.  

I have tried, most unsuccessfully, to complete NaNoWriMo this year.  First it was a lack of muse (but I kicked his hind end back in October so he would be ready).  Then it was lack of internet (there are friends there who spur me on to new and interesting places).  Yeah, technically I could have hand written or actually typed using one of those old manual machines - but I can't find a ribbon for it.  Yeah, that's it.  Then my trusty steed, my semi-loyal laptop of three years, went feet up in the air and gasped a final breath last weekend.

So all of this had led to fits and starts.  It has also allowed me to scapegoat my way out of writing this year.  

Probably I should take up golf.

• I live near a public course.
• I need more fresh air.
• Hubby has a set of old left handed clubs on the porch (not his but a friend's and they were lonely in his garage).
• Most importantly, it is because I believe in the power of the Mulligan.

29 days of giving - day 14 - the voice in my head

"The older you are, the smarter your parents become."

"Let a complaint letter sit for 24 or 48 hours before you send it because once it is out of your control, you no longer have control."

"When you are in a hurry, plod."

These are just a few of the phrases the voices in my head recite on a semi-regular basis.  It seems that when I was originally told each of these axioms, I didn't get it or I just didn't want to get it.

Each of us has multiple voices in our head and all of the time.

Two years ago, I took a class in writing by someone who is smart, insightful, and diplomatic.  (Some day, with luck and a little editing of the past, I might also be these things.) Just because I'm a bit late in telling her doesn't mean she didn't have a big impact.

The teacher has become the voice in my head when I write, edit myself and/or others, judge contests, etc.  Today I realized just how much in my head she can be and quite how much space she can take up there.

I sent her a thank you note.

Technically the gift is for her because everyone should get an ounce of gratitude every now and again.  But really it is for me.  Appreciating others always feels good.

Back to the Future with Writing Teachers

Stumbling through a thrift store last weekend, I discovered a cache of writing books.  Most were geared to high school research papers, but there was one that was spectacular.   If You Want To Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit by Brenda Ueland has changed everything for me and just when I needed it.

She was a writing teacher who spent her time inspiring her students not criticizing them. 

Her theory?

If you can tell a story to a child (and if you can tell a really big whopper), you can write.

The importance of the whopper?  When I tell a whopper, the details are bigger, more intense, and clearer. For example:

I met Cupid's youngest son the other day in a parking lot outside of a Chinese restaurant.  He was dressed like a peacock, sort of.  His hair would have passed for feathers there were so many spikes that were independently colored. The shirt was about three sizes too large for the boy and was decorated in Hula dancers and surf boards.  At a distance, I could only count eight or nine piercings on his face and ears; he probably had several covered by his clothing. 

He crossed the parking lot in about three steps and propped his hip against the dirty door of my mini van.

"Are you Louise?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Cool.  I'm Aaron.  You're my first assignment. I don't like labels or restrictions, I hope you're good with that."

So this is my opening whopper ... not edited and not restrained, just like Ms. Ueland recommended.  It gets the muse working, the imagination flowing, and joy back in the fingers.

Who knows?  Maybe this will become something.

I thought I needed a 'new' writing teacher.  Turns out I found one in an old book.  Not bad.

re-writing history

I have the opportunity to rewrite something for an anthology; it's due on Halloween.

Last year, I wrote what I thought was a decent story.  The editors apparently liked it and we got about two-thirds through the editing process when my ego couldn't stand it any more and I withdrew.

The knock came at my door just this morning.

Now I have to decide if I want to try it again.

Is my ego stronger?

Are my skills better?

Have I learned anything?

Yep.  I have and I will try it again.  They bought it once; they'll probably buy it again.

Oh - I found a place that will take one of my favorite stories and post it.  Humor.  Who knew it was back in vogue?

what's in a name, really?

In an attempt to 'connect' with my 'authentic self' (sounds like I've watched too much Oprah, doesn't it?), in the past year I've tried to liberate myself from the persona I created.

She is me but she isn't.  She doesn't fear what others think or say about her.  She is strange, creative, independent, and she will take almost any dare.  Most importantly, she can be outrageous and dance on top of tables (while drunk or otherwise) and doesn't get those things called hangovers or guilt complexes as a result.

As me, I am far and away too hung up on with other people.  How will/do they react.  How those reactions impact me.  Most importantly, how I let those things limit me.

I've also attended one too many seminars about writing/publishing.  The people involved have been all about third party point of view (and what they call a close third).  Me?  I tend to be vain and think in first person even if I've never been: male, in the military, or even been on the back of a motorcycle. 

I have looked at the authors I like/love and the books that I like/love.  Wouldn't you know it?  Virtually all of them are written from the first person point of view.  By reading those books from that place, I get to become someone I'm not.  I can be rich, thin, exciting, and have my own stable of nearly-naked, naughty men.  I can be a redhead, blond, brunette.  I am transformed into someone who is younger or older.

I get to escape my life and my world and go somewhere completely different for fun, profit, and pleasure.

That is the point of reading and writing (for my own pleasure and that of others), right?

So, I'm going to re-evaluate me and what I do.  Examine what works and what doesn't.  See how I can get back into my own zone.  I've been benched for the better part of a year because I let go of the name, the persona, I created.

I've missed my alter-ego and I hope to reconnect with her soon.

The bad news about the alter ego?  
When I looked at buying 'my' own domain name, it is a FREAKING PORN SITE!  I can't really compete with that.