Off-the-Cuff Poetry: Double Acrostic

I'm feeling lots of love and harmony in my universe today, mostly because my sweet friend and crit partner showered me with both on her blog today.  I hope you pop over to visit Jessica Bell today, to see first hand why such a talented writer is also an amazing friend.

I'm into Day #7 of the 15 For 15 contest at Writing.com.  Halfway there!  Each day, out of the 50 entries the contest judge chooses her five favorites as that day's "winners."  Top pick gets 1004 points, second gets 1003, and so on.  A scoreboard is updated every day.  If you miss two entries in a row, you're dropped from the competition.  At the end of the 15 days, the writer with the most accumulated points "wins."  (Prizes of the sites virtual tokens are awarded the first, second and third place winners.)  Of course, it's not about the points.  If you stretch your writing muscles, rising to the challenge every day and producing creative, inspired entries, you WIN.

That said, I won yesterday, earning 1004 points.  My entry follows, but first here's what I wrote for the current photo which will be judged today:

When I first saw it, I groaned.  I suck at fantasy writing.
I went the metaphor route, instead.

                                      Heinous  m ~ o ~ n ~ s ~ t ~ e ~ r   HatreD

                                      Asphalt black, arched back, winged warrioR

                                      Terrorizing, blow torched words; boiling anger-spA

                                      Rancor rooted in fearful heart    ~~   RaginG

                                      Extinguish your flaming snout! Spout no mO'

                                      Decide to love, even that which you have yet to learN

And here is yesterday's prompt. The squirrel in this photo is actually a Malabar Giant Sqirrel.  Lives in India.  Go figure! My entry is below.  

Miss Pamela Parrot, while grooming the long red feathers in her right wing, noticed movement below on the forest floor. She pulled her beak away and cocked her head so she could see better out of the facing eye.

What in tar-nation? she wondered.

A furry mass of vibrant blue and red scuttled to the base of a long-dead tree just opposite the tree Miss Pamela perched upon. Her pupil dilated and constricted, trying to better focus on it, as the thing climbed with lightening speed to the topmost nubs of broken trunk. It was only then that she could pinpoint what she was seeing.

"Little Scotty Squirrel? Is that you?"

Scotty Squirrel didn't answer. He stared straight ahead, whiskers twitching in concentration. At the same time the tip of his pink tongue snuck out the corner of his snout, he lifted three paws off his wooden perch. Wobbling wildly, he clamped his claws back down, righting himself before he tumbled into the airy void. Then, composed, he tried again.

"Scotty? Son, what are you doing there? And what's happened to your beautiful golden coat. Looks like someone tried to paint a canvas with your pelt!" She cackled at the thought.

Scotty almost lost his balance again and glared at Pamela. She eyed him again, and a thought dawned in her mind. Slowly, she lowered the leg tucked up against her breast and wrapped the talons around the branch, side-by-side with the other claw. Scotty seemed relieved and placed again all four of his paws on solid wood.

"I've come," he began, then cleared his throat. He began again. "I've come, Miss Pamela, to ask your hand in marriage."

Miss Pamela began to laugh, but caught herself just in time. Little Scotty's eyes were bright, hard. He was completely serious.

Miss Pamela tossed her head, then bowed it. Raising her eyes, she said, "I'm very flattered, Scotty. Honest, I am! But, dear, we are two very different species."

"But I love you!"

She stretched her wings, flapped them before refolding them at her sides. "You are the sweetest little thing! But we live different lives, eat different things. And besides, I'm so old, I remember when your great-great-great-great grandparents were born!"

Scotty Squirrel carefully stood on his two hind legs. A breeze threatened to topple him but he held fast. When he was sure of his balance, he looked up and into Miss Pamela's eyes. "It's okay. You aren't ready. I understand. I can wait...."

As he raced down the tree trunk headfirst, he wondered what on earth parrots ate...

Thanks so much for reading!  Have a fantastic day :D

    

                                

Off-the-Cuff Contest Entry #3

This is the exact photo prompt for yesterday's 15 For 15 Contest.  My strategy when drawing inspiration from these prompts is to avoid the obvious, and find the clever story hidden deep in the picture.  This time, for example, I didn't want to do a western-style story, a cowboys and Indians scenario, or a period piece from the 1800s.  Here is what I did come up with.  As always, forgive the punctuation and verb tense mishaps.  I wrote this in exactly 15 minutes (maybe going over by 30 seconds or so...)


Don't be too quick to judge, Lydia's inner voice chastised. She peered through the restaurant's front windows, but humidity fogged it from the inside. She took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

It wasn't so much a restaurant as it was a bar. This thought, too, dripped with conflicted disdain, and Lydia scolded herself again. This was what she'd expected, after all. She was meeting a man for the first time who she'd connected with on an online dating site. Of course the restaurant turned out to be a bar. And the hot guy in Stuart's profile picture would probably turn out to be George Costanza.

Her eyes scanned the scene that seemed to dance with the strobing lights. A hand shot up, waved. And there he was, standing and smiling, beckoning to her. Oh God, Stuart was even more gorgeous than the photo.

Talk of their work, her at the library and him in Delivery and Receiving, was brief. The dance floor called to them. They laughed the evening away. Her life as a librarian was turning upside down in a matter of hours. With each martini she decided with firmer resolve to stop living life in hushed tones. It was time for her to live out loud. Stuart, Lydia was pleased to learn, could really move his body. And there was a sense of humor to his style of dance, like he didn't take himself too seriously. She liked that. It was refreshing.

Hours later and after constant shushing of her prudent inner voice, they ended up at Stuart's apartment. He went to the kitchette to open a bottle of wine, leaving Lydia at the other end of the studio's main room. An armoire stood in the corner, its door ajar. Lydia shot a look at Stuart's back, muscles rippling as he worked the cork screw. She giggled, emboldened by the liquor, and swung open the armoire door. Her jaw dropped.

Costumes hung from one end of the armoire to the other. Sequins and leather, uniforms of every sort, handcuffs, whips, hats. She reached a shaky hand in and pulled a hanger out. Cowboy regalia including a gun holster, sheriff's badge, boots with spurs and chaps dangled before her shock-stricken face. Stuart's shuffled step sounded behind her. She spun around.

"What the hell is all this?"

"My work clothes," Stuart answered with a gleem in his eye.

"I thought you were in "Delivery and Receiving."

"Yeah, I deliver singing telegrams, sometimes. I also strip for parties. Bachelorette, birthday, retirement... Hey, you chose my favorite. This is an awesome act. Wanna see it?"

Lydia stared at his open, honest face. Pure joy shone in his eyes. There was no embarrassment, no shyness. No hushed tones. Her eyes dove down, scanned his body and then lingered on the items on the hanger in her hand.

Remember, her inner voice cooed, don't be too quick to judge...

                                    

Off-the-Cuff Contest Entry #2

Today's 15 For 15 photo prompt was similar to this one.  The lion in the original picture is seated under a more majestic looking tree, and he looks more...I don't know, regal?  Anyways, this one gives you an idea of where my inspiration came from.  I was a little stymied; animal pictures do that to me.  I'm not a fan of stories from the POV of an animal.  Here's what I came up with for my entry.  I wrote it in just under 15 minutes:

I am the Lion, Lord of these lands.
I am the fiercest of beasts.  All tremor in my presence, not because I will destroy them, but because I could, if I wanted to.  Brute strength and handsome features aside, it is my cunning instincts that put me in that class by myself.
Those instincts guide me.  I trust them.
As I lie in wait, I am calm, no fear betrays my face.
When the time comes, I will pounce.  Attack.  Intimidate, if needed.  Assert myself.  Prove again why I am the Lion.  
The one everyone wants in their corner....

The door swings open.

"Mr. Mitchel?  Mr. Stephenson and his team are ready for you.  Good luck with your pitch, sir."

                                    

Off-the-Cuff Contest Entry #1

This isn't the exact photo prompt from yesterday's 15 For 15 Contest (read contest explanation here), but it's close enough.  In the original, the trees have no leaves, taken in wintertime.  The following is my entry, written (per the contest rules) in only 15 minutes.  The goal is not to have a polished, typo-free piece.  There are plenty of places I would have liked to tighten up, but didn't have the time.  So, here it is, raw, by-the-seat-of-my-pants writing. :D

Marcus dragged on the cigarette pinched between his index finger and thumb. Numbing cold seeped through his britches from the park bench, despite its position in full sun, but he didn't mind. He'd rather sit here all day than return to work. When you rinse four star restaurant slop off fine China all day, you face your 'have-not' reality every minute of every hour. It wore him down. His fifteen minute break was more valuable to him than the restaurant's finest bottle of wine.

He blew a plume of smoke downwind and his eyes fell on the man making his way up the path. Marcus narrowed his eyes. The man's utilitarian clothing appeared too big for his frame and hung on his body like a sack. His bald head was dropped back and he stared straight up at the sky as he walked. As he neared Marcus's bench, the toe of his black rubber shoe hit a rock and he stumbled.

"Eh. Watch where you're going, dumb ass," Marcus said.

The man leveled his gaze. He was younger than Marcus had first thought. His drawn skin and stubbled chin suggested mid-forties, but now Marcus decided he couldn't be older than thirty.

"Yeah. Thanks," the man said. "It's just the sky is so blue. And those trees, well, they're things of beauty."

Marcus looked up. The trees looked dead to him. Leafless. Cold. "Whatever, man," he said, looking across the park to the restaurant. By his watch, he had five more minutes before he had to get back.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Marcus saw the man still stood there. He motioned his indifference.

"I just got out of the slammer," the man said, sitting.

An eyebrow shot up. He had Marcus's attention. "You were in prison?"

"Yeah, ten years, man."

"What'd you do?"

"I was convicted of attempted murder. But it was bullshit. Someone tried to whack my wife. They pinned it on me."

Marcus raised his chin. "No kidding. That sucks, man."

The man chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "Shit. Ten years is a long time to not see trees. I can't stop looking at them."

"You served your whole sentence?"

"Nope. Turns out my wife's boyfriend did it. Thank God for all that fancy DNA testing they can do now. Found out a week ago, and today I'm free. Just like that."

"Your wife's boyfriend...?" Marcus asked while checking his watch. He had to get back. "That's some story. Glad you're out. I gotta get back to work." He offered his hand as he stood to leave.

The man shook it. Marcus took a few steps then turned to look over his shoulder.

"What's the first thing you're going to do, now that you're a free man?" Marcus asked.

The man smiled a churlish grin, cold as the trees. "First thing I'm gonna do is kill my wife."

                                    

Enough, Cold in Hotlanta

Usually, I root for the underdog.  But we've been holed up by winter storm conditions for a week now, so I'm cheering on the sun.  (Sorry, neighborhood snowmen.)

The sun's shining bright over Atlanta as I type, and temperatures are supposed to climb above freezing through the weekend.

I'm ready for a return to normalcy!

Hoping you have a wonderful, warm, productive weekend!

                                    

Snowed In

Thanks to the extreme winter conditions down here in Atlanta, my daily life has come to a near standstill for days.  The kids are still home from school today, but hubby has left for work for the first time all week.  I don't know about you, but when the whole family is home, regardless of the day of the week, my brain goes into weekend mode.

I haven't been online for longer than five minutes since last Friday.  I look forward to reading some blogs today!

As for my own blog, I will keep this short with just a couple updates.

First, I have a new email account which will replace the one I have been using [heftynicki(at)writing(dot)com] for all my writerly correspondences.  The writing dot com email account will not close and I check it several times a day, so no worries if you contact me through that site.  But my new, "professional" email account will now be:  NicoleDucleroir(at)gmail(dot)com.

Second, today begins my favorite creative writing contest of all time!  It's epic, because it tests both your creativity and your endurance.  It's called the 15 For 15 Contest, and it is hosted by a member of Writing.com.  (The contest is full, but if you're interested in playing along in future rounds, it usually runs once every six months.  You have to be a member of the site, which is free.  Details HERE.)

The contest moderator posts a new picture prompt every morning.  Contestants are challenged to write something: a piece of flash fiction, a poem, song lyrics, a vignette, a dialog-only scene -- anything, based on the photo, and post their work in the contest forum.  The biggest challenge?  You are only allowed to write for 15 minutes.  (We follow the honor system, but most of us are serious writers who love rising to this challenge.)  Here's why it's a test of endurance:  The contest lasts 15 days, hence the title "15 For 15."  Believe me, into the second week your muse gets very tired!

As you can imagine, even the best typers can only type so fast.  I'm around 90 words per minute, when I'm on a serious writing high, so my longest entries are around 1300 words.  Many are much shorter, depending on the level of my inspiration.  I'll post my entries here -- probably.  We'll see...

Lastly, although I really dig this blog template, there are a lot of things I don't like about it (narrow post field, only two columns, heavy use of olive green, lack of tabs...)  I know, I know -- I'm the worst kind of fickle creative type out there!  I'm definitely going to change my layout, again.  Bear with me.  I'm a Libra; I need beautiful, calm, organized surroundings, even in my cyber-life.  (I knew you'd understand :D)

I'm off to contemplate the first 15 For 15 prompt, and to enjoy the last days of the snow.  Supposed to get above freezing on Saturday.  (The kids have their fingers crossed for no school again tomorrow.  If that happens, throwing in two weekends and Martin Luther King, Jr. Day on Monday, they will have had 10 straight days without school.  That's a lot of lost creative/computer time for me.)  Since 49 states had snow this week, I assume you have been walking around in my shoes too.  Hang in there!

                                    

Who's Got Your Back?

After my Dead Hard Drive Scare a couple weeks ago, I realized it was time to face facts:  I am one of those people who don't back up my computer files.

I upload a great deal of my writing to my online portfolio at Writing.com, and I save work on my WIP at the end of every writing session to a USB Flash Drive.  But here's the whole truth:  I start a lot of stories that never get out of the idea stage.  Their documents sit in files I've never backed up.  Only about 10% of all my digital photos are archived at Shutterfly.com.  The other 90% are on my hard drive.  Not backed up.

I believe personal hard drives and home storage devices of all kinds are endangered species, as much so as paper books and CD/DVDs.  The future is all streamed, all virtual.  Including our data file storage.

Today I started researching online computer file back-up options.  I knew about Carbonite from word-of-mouth and then a recent TV commercial, so I started at their website.  Then I Googled 'online backup' and a slew of companies and articles popped up.  I had no idea there were so many options to choose from.

Here's what I've learned:  Finding the right online backup company comes down to deciding what features are most important to you.  Things to consider are:

How many PCs do you own to be backed up?
Do you have only Microsoft machines, only Apple machines, or both?
How much data (or how many gigabytes [GBs]) do you envision backing up?
And, do you want to be able to share backed up files (ie: photo albums or Word Docs) with other, remote users?

I read a thorough article by Michael Muchmore for PCMAG.com (published 10/28/2010) discussing the site  editors' top online backup picks.  (Read the whole article here -- seriously, it's great!)  Basically, it boiled down to this:

Carbonite 4.0

For $54.99 per year, you get unlimited storage for just ONE PC.  Muchmore says, "Carbonite is a mature online backup service, but it lacks many desirable features you'll find in the competition. It offers unlimited remote backup storage, and handily marks backed-up files in Windows Explorer. It also has a good Mac version and a so-so iPhone app. But an account only covers one PC and its backup servers aren't geographically redundant. It also lacks file sharing or viewing, live protection, and doesn't back up external or network drives."

IDrive (Spring 2010)

For $4.95 per month per PC, you get 150GB storage space.  Muchmore says, "IDrive's support for up to five computers in one account, version saving, Web interface and fast operation are welcome, but you can't mix Macs and PCs, and there are still some rough edges, compared with the competition. Still, the service is much improved since our last review."

MiMedia (Beta)

For $10 per month, you get 50GB storage space on unlimited PCs.  Muchmore says, "Already-impressive beta service MiMedia offers hands-off, automated backup, the ability to play media files online, and a cloud-based disk drive. For more control over the upload process and backup set, SOS has it beat, and for simple syncing, DropBox is a better bet. But if you want anywhere access to your digital media, you could do a lot worse than the reasonably priced and well-designed MiMedia."

MozyHome 2.0

For $54.95 per year for only ONE PC.  Muchmore says, "Mozy improves ease of use and setup, but still supports just one computer per account and doesn't let you back up network or removable drives. That keeps it a step behind the competition."

Norton Online Backup 2.0

For $50 per year you get 50GB storage on up to 5 PCs.   Muchmore says, "With this release, Norton has brought its online backup service's features into the mainstream. Support for multiple PCs, including Macs, in one account and a slick Web-based user interface make this a Norton Online Backup 2.0 a real contender."

SOS Online Backup Home Edition 4.7.4

For $9.95 per month for 5 PCs and up to 50GB.  Muchmore says, "SOS still offers more than other online backup providers: multiple PC coverage, external and network drive backup, a local backup app, and an excellent iPhone app. Its Live Protect that watches folders for file changes and backs up immediately. In sum, SOS delivers more than any other online backup service."


Personally, I feel myself leaning toward Norton, because I have been very happy with their Anti-Virus software for years and trust in the quality of their company.  Also, I work on a Microsoft desktop now but anticipate adding a MacBook to my office (well, I dream of the day...), so I like that Norton interfaces both platforms.

Most of these companies offer free trial versions.  I'm considering trying a couple out.  The advantage to this, in addition to prolonging the time when I actually have to pay for the service :p, is that I will be able to make a more informed decision.  The disadvantage is spreading my data across corners of cyberspace.  I mean, these companies swear their storage centers are super-encrypted and secure, but, come on.  Hackers are like cockroaches.  They can squeeze into impossibly small access spaces.  My files = my identity, after all.

Anyone all ready using online backup?  I'm interested in recommendations and hearing your experiences.  Please share!

                                    

I Can Handle the Truth

I'm working on a short story I wrote a couple months ago, using it as a way to get my creative motivation running at high idle again after the long holiday interruption.  This story drew some of the best critique notes I've ever received, and I'm referencing them as I revise.

My reviewer talked extensively about the characters.  In the opening scene, the MC does a reckless, dispicable thing.  It's something "normal," "well-adjusted" people may secretly be tempted to do, but should never actually do because the potential for numerous, disastrous outcomes is so blatant.  But MC isn't "normal" or "well-adjusted," and one of my tasks was to make him believable and endearing to the reader.  According to my reviewer, I scored a slam-dunk with the MC.  It was the supporting cast that needs work.

Reviewer said, "There didn't seem to be much of Virginia (a secondary character) beyond the typical wino, but I think you mean for there to be. And I think that’s awesome. I love when a rugged character---someone people usually sneer at, like a wino---has a deeper meaning within them. The fact that she did take (MC) in says she has that, maybe, but I’d like to know for sure. I’d like to see it."

And Reviewer is so right!  I'm now excited about digging deeper into Virginia's character.

The critique went on to discuss a sideline character:  "Now, to me, the irate lady in the parking lot was the most real. Ohh, I wanted to slap her upside the head, but man, I know that woman. Thinks she’s doing good, but goes about it in all the wrong way with all the wrong attitude. It’s a kind of person that frustrates me, personally, to freakin’ death. And so I loved that she was in the story, making me feel that, wanting to stand between her and Rocco (the MC) and tell her to shove her cell phone up her---"

And it was this observation that got me thinking:  What kind of reader am I?

Do I embrace a character I'm reading, accepting them for the person the author wrote?  Or do I judge them, doubting someone would act they way the character is behaving or say the things the character does?  The deeper I delved into these questions, the more I realized my answer is....both.

I thought about The Almost Moon, by Alice Sebold.  I really enjoyed that book and, with absolute abandon, devoured the characters and plots.  I swallowed them whole, relished their tastes and textures, never wishing for a dash of salt or to cut them up into smaller, more manageable pieces.  For me, Sebold showed in that book her mastery as a character-driven author.

Other people in my book club HATED the book.  The most common complaint was readers couldn't relate to Helen, the main character.  They felt Helen was a wholly unbelievable character, since she acted in ways most readers rejected as cruel and unrealistic.

And then I started thinking about The Shack, by William P. Young. (Please brace yourselves for my minority opinions of this book, and be advised of my upcoming spoilers.)

I was completely frustrated by this book and actually threw it across the room when I finished it.  Why?  Because I couldn't believe that Mack spend an entire weekend holed up with the Blessed Trinity -- an exclusive audience with God, Jesus, and The Holy Spirit -- after his five-year-old daughter was brutally raped and murdered -- and he never ever once asked God/Jesus/HolySpirit about the Devil.  Not one question.  Not even, "Did the Devil make the murderer act?"  Mack didn't bring up the Devil's name ONCE.  Sorry, but if I had a whole weekend face-to-face with God, and I was a church-going man who'd wavered in his faith in the wake of such an evil atrocity, I would have wanted to know God's take on the Devil.

So, why do I accept some characters as the authors portrayed them and reject others?  I suppose it depends on the ability of the author to reach me, to unwittingly tap into my past experiences and my brand of reality.

But I also think an author who is successful in winning his character over with the reader is an author who writes that character's truth.  All of it.  I may not like what a character is doing, but if he is acting from the gut of his truth, I'm going to embrace him, and stay engaged in his story, until the bitter end.

Sebold wrote all of Helen's ugly truths, masterfully balancing them out with Helen's compassion and wit. And this is what I have to do with Virginia, in my short story.  Find her truth.  Once I know it, I'll be able to deliver her with more depth and vibrancy than I did in the original draft.  And I think that if Young had been bold enough to explore all of Mack's truths, I would have enjoyed The Shack much more than I did.

So what about you?  What kind of reader are you?  Do you question more often than embrace the characters you read?

                                    

I'm over "there" today...

Today, I'm over guest blogging at Carolyn Abiad's Serendipity, for her new series on International Romance.

Join me there, where I share how living in Africa and France with my French husband has affected my (writing) life.  There's also a link at the bottom of my article to photos of me in Africa.

The naive girl in this photo is me in 1994, just before I jumped on a plane for what was supposed to be a two-year stint in the Peace Corps.  I didn't make it home for almost nine years!  (Notice my army duffel bags?  I heard everybody would pack their stuff in these types of bags, so I painted happy flowers on mine.  It was a good call.  About 35 out of 45 of us that went over together had army duffel bags.  I never had to search in airports through mountains of drab olive to find my bags!)

See you over at Carolyn's!

                                    

Literary Foray

Literary Foray, a new anthology of literary fiction short stories, is now available for pre-order.  I'm extra excited about this book.  Not only is one of my short stories featured, but there are stories and poems by my real life sister and several of my close writer/blogger friends!  Beneath this book's hauntingly beautiful coverart, you'll find work by Jessica Bell, Matthew Rush (a.k.a. Matthew MacNish), Mara McBain, Adriana Noir, Noelle Eisenhauer (my sister :D) and me, alongside the work of 24 other authors and poets.

The book is in editing post-production, but you can pre-order at Amazon.com.  And, it's available at a discounted price from the publisher's online store.  Details at Pill Hill Press.com.

Tomorrow, I will be Carolyn Abiad's guest at her blog Serendipity.  My post will be the first in a series about international romance and how it affects a writer's work.  As many of you know, I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, and I met my husband while we were both working in Africa.  I hope you join me at Serendipity tomorrow for my discussion and photos!

What about you?  Any news you'd like to share with me?  I have confetti....

                                    

Dear You,

Wishing you and yours all the best the new year will have to offer!

                                 Much Love,

                                    

First Blogiversary!

Today is my blog's one year anniversary!

It's hard to believe it's been a whole year since my first post, and just as hard to believe it's only been one year!  On milestones like this, I like to look back on where I've been, and look forward to where I'm going.

On December 30th, 2009, I was a newbie blogger to the tenth power.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I was afraid anyone would read my posts....And, I was terrified no one would, either.  In my first post, it's evident I didn't even realize there was an entire community of writers that blog.

In the past year, I've connected with so many people who, like me, love to write.  Some of us aspire to publish our work, some of us have seen our work in print, some of you have already sold your novels.  But the common thread weaving us all together is our shared passion.

This isn't the first community of writers I've belonged to online.  I've been a member at Writing.com (WDC) since 2007.  But, it's not the same.  I post my short fiction there and elicit feedback from fellow members.  It's all about my finished projects.  WDC connects me to the writing community at a different stage in the game, I guess you could say.  I love my WDC home, and it is a place where you get out of the community what you put into it.  The more active you are, the more interactive you will find your experience.  Yet, there are only a handful of writers from WDC who are my true friends, who I feel a connection with that goes beyond cyber-relationships.  And they blog here now!!  (*waves to Mara and Adriana*)

But blogging about writing is unique.  In blogging about my process, about my struggles as well as my triumphs, I come to understand myself as a writer on an ever more intimate level.  And being surrounded by a community of writers who are confessing the same ups and downs, and sharing their inspirational strategies for success, makes me feel less crazy and alone.  

I didn't know, a year ago, the impact my decision to launch this blog would have on my writing and on my life.  It's been an amazing ride, and I want to thank everyone by name -- but that would take a long time.  In fact, I actually began a list, but I realized I couldn't stop adding names.  I started with those of you I have met in real life, and who I often email with, and to whom I sent and received holiday cards, and who regularly visit my blog, and who's blogs I try to visit every new posting, and....by that time, I realized the insanity in trying to pick out certain stars from the universe of those who have touched me in some way.  Like the heavens, those stars are too numerous to count.

Looking forward, I have plans for the blogging year to come.  I've changed my blog's layout, as you can surely tell.  I'm working on that white bar you see across the page.  I'm always going into the coding and personalizing my templates -- computer programming is the ONLY area classified as Mathematics that I actually enjoy.  This time, I pulled the template header image out and doctored it through Paint Shop Pro, since the original header says "FASHION" across the top :P

When I pasted the new image url into the template coding, the white line appeared.  Hmmm...Any ideas?  Anyone?

Also in 2011, I will post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.  Tuesdays and Thursdays will be heavy WIP writing days, with blog visits/commenting during breaks.  I am determined to successfully juggle my writing and blogging schedules, and to FINISH THAT FIRST DRAFT.  (Please feel free to hold me accountable. *waves sheepishly at Jessica, in particular*)

Thank you, blogging friends, for contributing to the best year of my life.  I look forward to another great year of reading your blogs, cheering you on during your writing projects, and celebrating our successes.

Come on, 2011.  Bring it!

                                    

Going Through Some Changes

Anyone who happened by today saw any one of a hundred-ish blog templates I tried out.  Tomorrow is the first anniversary of this blog, so I'm changing it up.  Hopefully, I'll have chosen something...soon.  Bear with me!

Have a happy evening!

                                    

Thanksgiving in December

I was up yesterday morning before the sun rose, before the children woke, while the house was dark and quiet.  I wanted to log onto the Web for just a little while, to view some holiday pictures on friends' sites, work on a guest blog post I'm doing on January 4th (more about that to come), and just enjoy the sound of my fingers tapping the keys.  Imagine my dismay/dread/pout/frustration when my hard drive power button didn't respond to a push.


No dull whirl of unseen, internal components, no blinking green lights, nothing.


I checked the connections.  All good.  I checked the monitor, modem, printer.   Everything seemed to function, except the hard drive.


Basically, I had a comatose machine, in a vegetative state.   A headless, metal corpse.


Braced to hear the worst case scenario, I took the drive to Best Buy.  It felt like Christmas all over again when the Geek told me the power box was blown -- just a $60 part -- which he would replace in-store for $50 more. Three hours later the ordeal was over.


Yesterday revealed an unexpected realization:  I don't want to go back to life without my computer!  Let's face it.  A writer doesn't need more than her hand, a pen or pencil, and a sheet of paper to compose.  And it's more than enjoying the online experience.    Simply put, I have come to rely on my online network of friends and family.


I love reading what you've aspired to, attempted, and accomplished.  I'm inspired by your perceptions.  I feed off your energy.  Yeah, I can pick up a telephone and call some of you.  (And I do!)  But the Internet brings so many more of you right to me, right into my life.


I love it.  And there's just no going back.


So thank you, for every word on your blog, every status update, every tweet.  I don't know what I'd do without you!


And, let's all decide right now to back up our flippin' files -- 'cause if my hard drive can pass away quietly in the night, so can yours!


Happy Tuesday!