All Aboard! (*cue maniacal laughter and intro music*)

November is here, and even though I'm not a ticketed passenger aboard the NaNo Crazy Train, I am inspired to set challenging goals for myself.  I have Stephen King to thank, as absurd as that sounds.  His book On Writing has lit a bonfire under my writer's ass.  (Seriously, if you haven't read that book, you're missing out.  Here's the Amazon link: To The Best Writing Book on the Craft...EVAH.)

King isn't the only successful writer to advocate a daily writing schedule, and I adopted the practice over a year ago.  My problem has been considering blog post writing part of that goal.  Some days, if I'm being completely honest, the only writing I accomplish is on my blog.  That will change this month.

Starting this past Monday, I no longer consider writing on my blog part of my daily writing practice.  Per Mr. King's advice, I pledge to write between 1000 and 2000 words a day OF MY MANUSCRIPT.  In On Writing, King talks about two catagories of daily writing: "With the Door Closed" and "With the Door Open."

In November, I'll be writing with the door closed.

What he refers to by "writing with the door closed" is how (he suggests) a writer should pen the first draft.  The door to your writing space is closed; the phone is unplugged/off; the Internet is closed -- no Blogger/Twitter/FaceBook/email/Writing.com.  No matter what, you sit down to write and you don't stop before you've met your word count goal.

Now, some may not agree with this method.  We all work differently, and there's no right or wrong way to approach your craft.  But my goal for the month of November is to re-establish productive daily writing habits, and I'm riding my tidal wave of On Writing inspiration.  So far, I've had success.  On Monday I wrote 1467 words, and yesterday I wrote 2150.  Today, I'm shooting for 2000.

Incidentally, "writing with the door open" refers to the revision/edit phase of a MS when, according to Stephen King, it's time to show some of your work to a small group of beta readers.  I part company with King's philosophy on this point.  (He's probably right, mind you.  But I have my reasons...)  I plan to continue sharing my rough, first draft work with Jessica, my awesome critique partner.  At least for this, my first novel, I appreciate the feedback she gives me and the "deadlines" we stick to in exchanging our work.  That, too, is keeping me on track.

I still plan to write occasional blog posts, but I won't be sticking to my regular MWF schedule.  I probably won't be able to comment on your posts as often, either.  I think November is the best month to relax the blog schedule, since so many of you purchased your NaNo tickets this year.  I think we'll all be ready to meet back here in December, right?

So, happy writing to all of you.  Best of luck meeting your daily work count goals, and remember to schedule in and enjoy your downtime with family and friends.  Drink water throughout the day, especially if you're like me and slug down more than your daily recommended dose of caffeinated coffee.  And write, write, write!!

Show Your Space Blogfest!

Summer at ...and this time, concentrate! had a fantastic idea for a blogfest.  Today, we're showing each other our workspaces!  Fun, right?

Here's my workspace!

I'm always adding to the design wall -- any picture, magazine photo, or sketch that inspires me goes up.  I subscribe to Elle Decor magazine, which is an excellent source for setting details.  Pictures of house interiors, European architecture and restaurants, tropical homes and landscapes go on the wall, as well as close-up shots of chairs, tables, doors, floorings, stucco or tiled walls, and pictures of exotic or couture fabrics.  So much inspiration!

Also on my wall right now are maps to help me with the logistics of my current WiP:  road maps of the southern United States, a map of downtown Washington D.C., and one of its Metro system.  There are also pictures of celebrities that remind me, especially in the way they are dressed, of the characters in my story.

Other incidentals: my workspace is located in the upstairs "bonus room" of our house, where I can close the door and shut out the rest of the household (LOL).  I use the student version of Microsoft Word 2007, and all my reference books (dictionary, thesaurus, encyclopedias, style guides) are all online.

Okay, I showed you mine, now you show me yours!  And whether you're playing along or not, visit the next stop on the blogfest list:  Sarah Ahiers at Falen Formulates Fiction.  And for the whole list of participating bloggers, go here -->  CLICK ME

Wishing You All A...

Are you dressing up this year?  What as??

Have a blast!

On Stephen King's On Writing

There are no coincidences in life, of this I am sure.  Timing is divine.  And that's the reason I hadn't gotten around to reading Stephen King's On Writing before now.

For the rest of you who make up the infinitesimal percentage I belonged to  of people who still haven't read On Writing, here's why you should pick it up today:

If you are a writer:  King talks about the craft like you're sitting on a sofa across the room from him, feet up on the coffee table or tucked underneath you.  He's so accessible, describing his life from his earliest memories forward and how his experiences shaped his writing.  You'll find yourself nodding as you read, validated as the writer you are, when he says things like:

"There is no Idea Dump, no Story Central, no Island of the Buried Bestsellers; good story ideas seem to come quite literally from nowhere, sailing at you right out of the empty sky: two previously unrelated ideas come together and make something new under the sun.  Your job isn't to find these ideas but to recognize them when they show up." -- Stephen King, On Writing (Copyright 2000 by Stephen King, published by Scribner, A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. -- This Scribner trade paperback edition July 2010, page 37.)

If you're a Stephen King fan:  You don't have to be a writer to love this book.  If you devoured Stephen King classics like Carrie, The Shining, Salem's Lot, The Dead Zone, Misery, etc. etc., you will learn in On Writing what everyday experiences sparked the ideas for his stories.  This book is part memoir, a backstage pass into the creative mind of Stephen King, where he tells you where the dots fell and how he connected them.

But as I said at the beginning of this post, timing in life is often extraordinary.  I was reading On Writing yesterday when I came across a passage that spoke directly to me, its message seemingly intended for me:

"The most important [lesson King learned while writing Carrie] is that the writer's original perception of a character or characters may be as erroneous as the reader's.  Running a close second was the realization that stopping a piece of work just because it's hard, either emotionally or imaginatively, is a bad idea.  Sometimes you have to  go on when you don't feel like it, and sometimes you're doing good work when it feels like all you're managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position." -- Stephen King...page 78.

Thank you, Mr. King.  I needed to hear that!

A Trip Back in Time

I spent the weekend in the Hudson Valley in New York with my kids, my parents, three of my sisters and all their kids, and friends of our family.  It was a magical time!  The entire weekend was to be a surprise birthday celebration for one of my sisters, planned by her boyfriend and her business manager.  Unfortunately, our father slipped last week during a phone conversation, (he's a terrible secret-keeper), but that in no way diminished the fun we had.

Our events agenda included apple picking, hay rides, square dancing (so hilarious!), horseback riding, a hunt for pumpkins hidden in a corn field, a birthday dinner in a circa 1760s farmhouse, s'mores by the bonfire, pumpkin carving for the kids, and lots of eating and drinking.

Our party staying in several local Bed and Breakfasts, restored historic homes with the most gorgeous wide plank wood floors and furnished entirely with antiques.  I slept in a four-poster bed and bathed in a claw foot tub.  I had my notebook and pen out all weekend, taking notes to capture the essence of these homes preserved in time.

I'm going to have all the photos I took of the houses printed and they're going on my design wall behind the computer monitor in my writing studio.  You never know when you'll need details, inspiration, or descriptions for a story!  I try to take advantage of every place I visit, even the more mundane or everyday spots, and record as many details as I can for future writings.

I was fortunate to be able to do this kind of research without spending any money.  My trip was paid for entirely -- a gift to my sister to have her whole family present.  But a writer is always researching -- at the grocery store, in the local botanical gardens, at a bus station, in the mall and restaurants.

Where are your favorite places to research for your writing?

Celebrating "Daddy"

I've been revisiting Sylvia Plath's poems this week and reflecting on her dark genius.  She is by far one of my favorite poets, because her work never fails to get under my skin and inside my heart.

In Sylvia Plath's poetry, as well as her fiction, suicide is a recurring theme.  And each mention of suicide makes her work all the more haunting for readers today, forty-seven years after she took her own life.  One such poem is "Daddy."

I first discovered "Daddy" a couple years ago when I was researching allegory in poetry.  I was hypnotized by Sylvia's words, by the tone of the piece and the way it affected my emotions.  Then, I found the video on YouTube of Sylvia herself reading the poem.  It became an instant favorite of mine.

I'm going to share that video here, and just below it are the words to "Daddy."  You can scroll and follow along -- I think that makes the experience that much better.  I hope you enjoy it.




Daddy
by Sylvia Plath


You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.


~12 October 1962~

What's your favorite poem or poet?

It's Lenny's Birthday!

Happy Birthday Lenny!

If you haven't wished the sweetest blogger in the world a happy birthday, won't you scoot over there right now and leave him well wishes?  And if you'll be meeting him for the first time, go ahead and follow his blog.

He is a boy with an enormous heart and great writing talent for someone so young.  What potential!  You'll love him to pieces, just like I do; I know it for sure!

Here's his link! --> Lenny's World

Best wishes, Lenny!  Have a fan-tabulous day!!