10 posts tagged “writing”
I haven't been blogging because I've been writing. A lot. Which I haven't done much of in the past year - NaNoWriMo aside. It's been good and I'm so full of ideas. I have a plan now, and I'm going to write myself out of a corner. Or try to anyway.
Things are a little... oh, what's the word... strange, right now. You could say. I suppose. I won't elaborate, but certain members of my adoring readership know what I'm referring to. It's not bad or anything, just... funny. It's been a funny funny week.
On a side note, I saw Orlando Bloom on the corner of 59th and 1st recently. Of all the celebrities I've spotted, he has to be the best. It was a very cool "New York" moment.
It is beautiful today. John is in the park riding his bike, and I am sitting in the slanted sunlight in our living room drinking tea (of course), listening to my music too loudly and thinking of venturing outside myself, but mostly enjoying having the apartment to myself for the afternoon.
I don't write much here anymore because I feel as though I have very little to say. The hatred for my job is all-consuming, and I spend a good part of my day thinking about textbooks and classrooms and notes and wondering when I will get back into my happy world of academia. I even miss term papers. You know it's time to go back when term papers seem appealing.
[It's not the actual writing of the term papers that I enjoy, but the research, which I find incredibly interesting. The papers themselves are generally started 10 hours - maybe 12 or 15 if I'm feeling nervous about the outcome - before they're due. You'd think this was a recipe for disaster, but apparently not for me. It should be noted that I cannot do much else very well, but I can churn out a damn fine term paper in no time flat.]
It will be, more likely than not, a little while yet before I get to return to school, tuition in New York city being what it is, and me stuck in a job that I not only loathe, but get paid very little do to. I am searching for something else, but nothing seems to strike my fancy. I don't want to be in a corporate setting - and since I refuse to cover up my tattoos, I would probably have a hard time getting hired in such a setting, anyway. I don't want to work weekends. And I don't yet have a degree. Let's just say my options are kind of limited at the moment. But I'm looking.
I think I could tolerate my current job a little better if I were only there four days a week. I would really like to take an extra day off, mainly to write write write. [After a recent computer crash and devastating literary loss, I have some catching up to do.] I don't think it would be an issue, as I'm there just about 10 hours everyday anyway. I would still get my 40 hours, I just wouldn't get overtime. And that is just fine with me. It's something I'm toying with as I have zero time for writing at the moment. [Weekends don't work very well, I find it difficult to write when John's around. It's nothing personal: I find it difficult to write when anyone's around.] I think a day to myself would work wonders for what I hope will someday be my career. But I guess it all comes down to money in the end, and not having any, and I guess I have to have the overtime money, even though I'm compromising my sanity in the process.
On a happier and completely non-related note, we have decided to get a dog, and I am beside myself in anticipation. We don't want a puppy, but an older dog; a rescue dog. We're considering a beagle or terrier mix or mini schnauzer. So hopefully in the next week or two, I'll have a new furry friend to report on. Seeing as we live less than a block from Central Park now, it's almost a crime to not have a dog. There's actually a beagle at work that I'm interested in, but ultimately someone who doesn't like me very much gets to say whether or not I can take him home, and I can just guess what the answer will be. But we're going to look at some rescue dogs that the North Shore Animal League has at PetCo today, so maybe we'll find a wonderful little creature there. I am so excited. I would probably bring them all home if I could.
So that is my life: searching for a way to get back to school; searching for a new job; searching for my sanity; and searching for a wonderful dog. I'm kind of on the look out for a lot of things, so if you see any of them - especially my sanity - send them my way.
My mom has been complaining that I don't write enough lately. I agree, I don't. Because I am severely lacking in time. After staring at a computer screen all day, the last thing I want to do is come home and turn on my computer for any reason.
Everything is just going by so fast. Get up, go to work, come home, go to bed... etc. I'm in a serious rut.
I am hopeful, however, to be free of said rut in a few months. Especially since I'm trying to get an exciting new job with a well-known publishing house. True, I will probably have less time should I get this job, but at least I'll be doing something that makes me really happy. [Yes, helping poor people find the means to afford vet care at the Humane Society is a good thing, but it is no longer rewarding, and I've become extremely disillusioned with the whole thing. If you can't afford animals, you shouldn't have them. But that's not a rant I'm going to get into at the moment since I've worn that subject down to the ground.]
I'm exhausted, but hopeful.
Oh, my other good news to share is that my darling Russian is taking me on a real life vacation next month. We've never gone anywhere together [except apartment hunting in NYC before we moved up here last year, but that dizzy trip doesn't count.] John is taking me to ... wait for it ... BERMUDA! The poor guy has been slaving away at his company [Heavy.com] the past few months, and we are both in need of a serious recharge. So Bermuda here we come, at the end of February.
There ma, happy now? I wrote something. Whooptie-freakin'-do.
[P.S. Go tell my mom how kick ass she is for staying sober for the last 3 years.]
What books did you love as a child?
Submitted by hearts.
I have been a reading machine since I was very small. Shel Silverstein and Tomie dePaola were my first loves, and once I got started I just couldn't stop. Still can't. I started writing when I was very small too. I would read something and then think, "Well, gee, I can do that. I can come up with fantastic stories and adventures. No problem." So I did. I'm still doing that too, but probably not as well or as freely as when I was small.
When I got a little older, there was the Babysitters' Club, R.L. Stein, Roald Dahl, Judy Blume, Beverly Cleary, Laura Ingalls Wilder. Although I must say, I never read Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. I keep seeing it popping up again and again on everyone's lists. I feel like I might have missed something.
I liked a lot of the books we read in school as well: Number the Stars, Where the Red Fern Grows, Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry; and my absolute favorite: Bridge to Terabithia. Books that actually made me cry; books that broke my heart. [Bridge to Terabithia is still one of my favorites.]
In middle school I discovered Harper Lee, Robert Cormier, Homer [I think I was the only kid in my 8th grade English class to get really pysched about The Odyssey; I still I love it], and Francesca Lia Block. I started picking up any book set before me. I would give just about anything a chance, and even found myself picking up the many non-fiction books my mother had lying around the house when I had run out of good fiction to read.
I guess I was born to be a reader. I know as the day goes on I'll remember other books and authors that I loved. [C.S. Lewis, The Secret Garden, Madeleine L'Engle, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Outsiders, Tuck Everlasting, E.B. White...] And there are, of course, tons of books of which I clearly remember the plot, but cannot remember the title or author to save my life. They'll come back to me, as well, I hope.
I still have a lot of these books someplace, in a box. I am reluctant
to give them up; I don't believe in abandoning books because you've
outgrown them. They are markers for how you got here; I find myself
able to track many of my ideas and beliefs back to those books of my
childhood. It will be fun to read all of these again someday when I
have children, to and with them. They are memories you can always climb
right back into.
My AM New York horoscope: Virgo - Don't settle for second best. Be the champion. All it takes is a little more work at something you really enjoy.
This comes just as I was resigning myself to failure at NaNoWriMo for the fifth year in a row. I wasn't going to quit; I just wasn't going to go for the gold anymore. But now I feel rejuvenated. Why settle for second best? [Second best being trying, but ultimately, failing.] I AM A CHAMPION!
Oh you silly Words. You thought you'd best me again this year. Well, think again. Because I have four days off from work for Thanksgiving next week, and it's you or me, Words. We can't both make it through November. It's my turn.
...Speaking of NaNoWriMo, my dear mother sent me this: How Writers Create Their Fiction: Chapter One. It's a NaNoWriMo related article, brought you you by the fine people at NPR.
To my fellow NaNo-ing friends - or fools - yes, the month is halfway over, but that doesn't mean anything. When those who have maintained a steady pace all month long finish, we can brag that we did 40,000 words in just fifteen days. And that is the real feat here.
So carry on, brave writers. Begin that final sprint to the finish! I'll see you there! [...I'll be the one on the respirator.]
I have a strong beginning. A beginning I felt so confident about that I actually let John read it. He was extremely kind. I never let him read my work; he's the only one who's judgement really matters to me, and thus I fear and avoid it. But I was feeling pretty good about my opening scene and thought, what the hell. And either he legitimately loved it, or he's a much better liar than I suspected.
Either way, I feel ready to make a huge leap tonight. John's going to see some old friends who are playing music in town, and I plan to spend the evening with my novel, pounding out the words.
++++++++++++++++++
Day: 5
Word Count: 811 [Disappointing, I know. I spent too much time revising and lost sight of the task at hand. Will catch up this week.]
Chapters: 1.5
Characters: 4
Number of Displaced Southerners: 2
Number of Dead Girls in the Bathtub: 1
Number of Albinos: 1
My clothes were a hot topic of conversation yesterday for one reason or another:
- "Did you get dressed in a John Hughes' movie this morning?" -My co-worker, Joe, in response to the ribbon in my hair, my oversized sweater, and the fact I wore hot pink heels with ankle socks.
- "Quit trying to look pretty and put some damn clothes on." -My boyfriend, John, in response to my chattering teeth and the capri jeans I insisted upon wearing despite the fact it was about 35 degrees last night.
Thanks guys. You really make me feel good about myself. [I still think I looked pretty awesome.]
We saw the Decemberists at Hammerstein Ballroom last night, which I will write a more detailed post upon later. I expected nothing short of brilliance, and was not disappointed.
My NaNoWriMo has gotten off to a somewhat slow and disappointing start, due to a lack of time and a silly need for sleep. I am nipping this need in the bud, however, and should be caught up by Sunday. I do have an idea, however, and a fantastic character: Amos. He came to me just about fully formed the other night while passing a crazy man on the way home from the bus. Thanks crazy man!
Finally, tonight is the grand opening of The Williamsburg White Room, a new gallery in Brooklyn. The whole event is being orchestrated by my dear friend Lily, and I am quite looking forward to the evening. Great art, music and people. I will no doubt have photographic evidence of the event tomorrow.
A quick update; more to follow...
To NaNoWriMo this year or to not. That is the question.
Every year I attempt [unsuccessfully, thus far - although only about 120 words short last year] to NaNoWriMo. And every year I vow it will be my last. A promise I have been making to myself for five years.
The pull is just so strong. What would November be without the horror and stress of NaNoWriMo? Well, it wouldn't be November, that's for sure. I have two jobs, a novel of my own that I've been kicking around for months trying to complete, photography work to get done... but what's one more huge project. I don't need to eat or sleep really.
So, yes, of course, sign me up.
What a shitty time I picked to quit smoking.
Show us someone who inspires you.
I have lots of people in my life who inspire me in many different ways, but I'm picking someone I don't actually know, because this person inspires me creatively, to write. Sufjan Stevens is probably my favorite musician at the moment. [We're actually going to see him on October 1st.] Whenever I listen to his music, I want to write. I went through a really long dry spell with my writing, and his music brought me out of it. He starts an idea in his music, and then I want to finish it on paper. Were I to finish my novel, and were someone to turn it into a movie, Sufjan Stevens would most certainly do the soundtrack. There's something so wholly original about him; this is a rare quality. Before, I could never listen to music while I wrote. I needed silence. Now his records provide the perfect background to my story writing.
Sufjan Stevens wins the inspiration category because his music got me writing again at a time when I never thought I would.
I am first and foremost in this life a reader. Secondly a writer, as I don't believe you can be a very good writer if you're not a reader. I'll devour most things, though I prefer fiction and historical texts. I recently went on a memoir kick that included a re-reading of Running with Scissors, as well as the consumption of Jeannette Walls' The Glass Castle; Evan Handler's Time on Fire; and that punk rock tome Please Kill Me by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain.
I have to pace myself, as I have the habit of reading ten things at once, which can sometimes be a little confusing and take much longer than necessary, so this is my to-read list, and suggestions are always welcome:
- CURRENTLY READING: The Honk & Holler Opening Soon - Billie Letts [So far a big thumbs down.]
- LAST BOOK READ: Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides [Better than his first book, by far.]
- UP ON DECK:
- A Man Without a Country - Kurt Vonnegut
- Anansi Boys - Neil Gaiman
- Haunted - Chuck Palahniuk [We just saw him at a book reading at The Strand; he blew my mind.]
- Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov [Can you believe I have almost made it to 23 without reading this book? Insanity.]
- Jesus' Son - Denis Johnson [I actually started this, but got so involved in Middlesex I put it aside.]
