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Tuesday, October 27th, 2009 | Author: Erika

Would you like to know what’s shocking?  Many things, frankly.  The price for tiny baby shoes that never actually touch the ground, for one thing.  The wait time to get into the best steak restaurant in Issaquah, for another.

What’s shocking me right this second is the calendar.  Specifically, where we stand on the calendar.

Ladies and gentlemen, we stand on the cusp of the end of October, which means we are a mere screaming toboggan ride away from November.  Those of you who have been reading for awhile may remember that last year during the month of November, I embarked on a ridiculous journey.  A journey to complete a novel of at least 50,000 words from start to finish during the month of November.

That journey was NaNoWriMo.  It was difficult.  I was running two different blogs part-time in addition to my blog, and writing additional content at the same time for my novel.  There were times when I thought my very joints would keep me awake with their incessant aches, and somewhere right around 24,000 words I started wondering if I could finish at all.

But I did.  I crested that hill and the view was mighty indeed.  The novel’s pure crap, but it exists.  Thanks to NaNoWriMo I can say without hedging that I’ve written a novel.  It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done, and I remember it with fondness.

The big question then becomes: What about this year?  November starts in four days, will November 2009 yield Crap Novel 2.0?

No, no it will not.

It breaks my heart, but a woman’s got to know her limits.  I’m not running more blogs this year than I was last year, but the nature of those blogs and of my work for them has changed dramatically.  When I worked for Qvisory, I wrote one post a week and merely managed the content for the other four posts that went live.

For Offbeat Mama, I’m writing 3-4 posts a week.  It doesn’t seem like a big difference, but when you’re writing for a large audience you want to make sure your content is solid.  My name goes on those posts, and I’d prefer it strongly if they weren’t crap.

In addition to the Offbeat Mama posts, I still write 3-4 posts a week over here in addition to one post a week for Bottle Your Brand.  In short, I’m already producing a substantial amount of content every week, none of which is for a novel.

I guess you could factor being pregnant in there somewhere as well.  I will admit that nesting has taken over an alarming proportion of our weekend to-do list, and whereas I used to fantasize about sitting down and writing during the weekend, now I distract myself by imagining which projects we can complete given our resources, budget, and weather.

In short, it’s just not going to work out this year.  That’s ok, though, because next year is only twelve months away!  And I’ll have an eight month old baby hanging around then, so that’ll make writing a novel in a month easier!

Ten bucks says my NaNoWriMo novel next year will be about a woman who eats nothing but potato chips and cheesecake during her pregnancy, gains 15 pounds total the whole time, and never misses a wink of sleep thanks to her miraculous infant who rarely fusses and instead just smiles and coos all the time.

Obviously it will qualify as a “Fantasy” novel.

Category: NaNoWriMo, Work, Writing  | 6 Comments
Wednesday, June 17th, 2009 | Author: Erika

Funny enough, the subject of today’s post is courtesy of John Mayer (recording/sandwich artist extraordinaire).  He twittered about this awhile ago and it stuck in my brain.  I’ve been mulling it over for awhile as a writing exercise, because if condensing my thoughts to no more than 140 characters (for Twitter) is challenged, condensing a whole story down to six words is even harder.

The six word story was allegedly sprung from Ernest Hemingway’s oeuvre.  He is rumored to have written a story in just six words.  What’s amazing is that when you read the six words, you can totally understand how it constitutes a story of some kind.  Your mind just sort of grasps the whole tale, which is weird since it’s just six freaking words.

Here’s Hemingway’s teeny tiny little short story: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Just take a minute to let that sink in.  You get the whole story, right?  It’s pretty incredible, really, don’t you think?

In the spirit of Hemingway’s fine example, I’ve set my considerable will to crafting my very own teeny tiny little short stories.  I hereby offer them to you, my fine readers, for you consideration and/or derision.

  • Cannibals taught me everything I know.
  • Redeeming a lifetime of poverty, Christmas.
  • From pup to beast, nearly overnight.
  • After years of strife, they wed.
  • Canned soups make great improvised weapons.
  • The new haircut changed her entirely.
  • Furious, she said, “Crap, I’m pregnant.”

Wow, if you read them all together they make one heck of a weird story…

I know, I know, mine are nowhere near as good as Mr. Hemingway’s fine example, but everyone’s gotta start somewhere.  I hope you’ll excuse me if I don’t write to the caliber of an American literary legend, m’kay?

Now that I’ve ventured my own piteous examples, I really want to know what creativity strikes you (and where).  What story can you tell using six words?

Category: Writing  | 3 Comments
Monday, May 18th, 2009 | Author: Erika

Fresh off the boat of yet another strange weekend (seriously, weird things always happen to me on the weekend.  You have to be pretty careful when you ask me how my weekend went) I’m sitting here in my empty house, super-charged and ready to go.  You see, I was pretty upset about not getting a positive pregnancy test on Saturday and when I get really upset there’s really only one thing for me to do.

Make a choice.  I can either choose to wallow in my melancholy (and infinite sadness) and be really and truly miserable or I can dust myself off, stick out my stubborn little jaw, and kick sand in the face of whatever’s bothering me.

I chose sand kicking this time.

I figure that if this is how my uterus is gonna be about this whole thing then fine, but I’m not going down easy.  I’m just gonna wait her out.  She will eventually become a home for my progeny and she’s just gonna have to be happy about it because 1) I’m more stubborn than she is and 2) I’m in charge of the chocolate consumption around here and if she doesn’t start being a little more accommodating she may find her chocolate privileges dwindling.

Likewise for my writing situation.  I submitted my latest chapter to my writing group for review on Saturday and it didn’t go very well.  They gave me the kiss of death, they said they didn’t understand my character very well.  Shoot me right in the face, why don’t you?

I gotta figure that 60-odd pages into this novel, if my readers don’t understand my main character something is really wrong.  Now I have to comb through everything I’ve written so far and try to figure out why no one understands my poor protagonist.  It’s enough to make me want to hang up my noveling hat right now.

As if that weren’t enough, I read a novella by Jim Butcher (the author of the much beloved Dresden Files) and it made me crazy.  He’s so good!  I love his writing so much!  Why do I suck so much?!

Enter Wes.  He shook me firmly and said every artist throughout time has always admired and respected someone else’s work.  I asked him if even Matthew Bellamy of Muse, patron saint of rock guitarists everywhere, admired other people’s stuff.  Wes told me that Bellamy has great affection for Led Zeppelin, and that encouraged me.

If even Matthew Bellamy, who makes my eyes go crossed with his undeniable talent, looks up to someone then maybe it’s not a total waste of my time to keep trying to write even though people like Stephen King and Jim Butcher make me feel quivery and I’m-not-worthy on a nearly daily basis.

So, the moral of this story is: Even though (so far) I suck at getting pregnant and writing novels, I’m stubborn and will keep at it.  Kicking sand in the face of adversity, because I’m just too stubborn to lie down and quit.

Thursday, April 23rd, 2009 | Author: Erika

Sorry for disappearing on you yesterday, I started working on my novel and before I knew it my husband was home and wanted me to make him dinner or something.  The nerve.  It’s a funny thing, I never had any interest in editing my first novel.  I think it’s because it needs so much help that in order to make it better I just need to rewrite the whole dang thing.  I’m not often in the mood to rewrite entire novels so I never touch it.  From what I’ve heard first novels are supposed to stay locked away in drawers untouched by the light of day anyway so I’m not too worried.

This novel, though, is the apple of my hyper-critical, demanding, and ambitious eye.  I had to laugh at myself last night because I was talking about how easy it would be to turn this story into a movie.  Not only have I gotten published in my mind, I’m making movies too!

Lucky for me (and my gigantically inflated dreamer’s head) today is Thursday.  Thursdays mean the focus is off me and on whatever wonder I’ve found to enthrall you for the week.  Specifically, Thursdays are reserved for Things That Do Not Suck.  If you’ll recall, I started Things That Do Not Suck Thursdays as a kind of counterweight against all the bad news that’s all around nowadays.  A neat side effect is that I’m constantly on the lookout for neat things to share.

I was tempted to take a picture of some random middle-aged dude I saw riding his motorcycle without a shirt so that I could share it, but I decided that a shirtless middle-aged man on a hog doesn’t really qualify.  Not only would that make one heck of a mess if he crashed, he had moobs (man boobs) and the last thing I need to see when I’m zooming down the road are some dude’s moobs swaying gently in the breeze.

What I did find is pretty special, though, so I’m not disappointed that the half-naked motorcyclist didn’t work out.  These photos come courtesy of an email from my step-father, who thought I’d enjoy them.  I did.

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Seriously, this is the coolest thing ever.

I guess there’s this British artist named Julian Beever who does chalk drawings throughout Europe and Australia and he’s simply incredible.

Wouldn't it be cool to see that in person?

Wouldn't it be fun to see that in person?

People with talent like this blow me away.  What he can do with a stretch of pavement and some chalk quite simple makes me sit at the computer catching flies in my open-in-awe mouth.

Really messes with your mind, doesn't it?

Really messes with your mind, doesn't it?

Makes me feel embarrassed by my stunted little drawings that barely even qualify as stick figures.  I have to admire this guy’s work because at no point, even if I went to art school for 100 years, could I ever hope to do something this cool with concrete and chalk.  When your four year old niece looks at a picture you drew of a horse, pats your head, and tells you how proud of you she is because you tried to draw a horse, you know drawing’s not your gig.

If you want a real mind trip, look at those pictures and remind yourself that these are flat surfaces.  Especially with the Batman and Robin one, look at that one and tell yourself that both his feet are flat on the ground and even with the rest of the picture.  This has been making me crazy all week!

Monday, March 23rd, 2009 | Author: Erika

Forgive me if I prattle on ad nauseum about my second wannabe novel.  I realize it’s a tad cruel to write so extensively about writing the first one only to deny nearly everyone the right to read it.  I can’t though, in good conscience, allow anyone to waste their time reading something I consider less than what I would consider the best I have to offer.  It’ll have to languish until I work up the motivation to re-write it using all the cool new tricks I learned in my writing class.

The second novel, though…If there’s an apple of my eye right now, that there’s it.  My writing group spent some time critiquing it this weekend and their insights and suggestions literally set my brain alight.  They asked the perfect questions, the kind that ignites ideas as opposed to quashing them, and gave me the encouragement I needed to feel confident about pressing on.

The problem now is that I’m hideously distracted.  I can see the whole story laid before me, much like this:

Except, of course, without the two tourists right in front of it.

Except, of course, without the two tourists right in front of it.

It’s all fun and games until you realize that you’ve ignored everything a customer was saying on the phone because you were plotting out the perfect moment-of-truth conversation between two made-up people.  This is one of those times when I wish I were a full-time writer, sitting at home in my pajamas crafting the stories I’d like to tell out of the fabric of my ideas.

Lucky for me, Wes had agreed to shoulder part of the burden of my weekend chores, thereby liberating a beautiful two-hour chunk of time on Saturdays that I can devote exlusively to writing.  We work together to clean the house on Friday (this is why Friday blog posts have pretty much disappeared) so that when Saturday rolls around all I have to worry about is laundry and grocery shopping.  Bliss!  Truly a more supportive and wonderful (and handsome!) husband has never existed.

The curious side effect of this new arrangement is that my weeks seem to be leading up to Saturday now.  I cache the ideas I take away from my writer’s group, and they grow and build to the extent that by the time Saturday rolls around my ideas feel corporeal.  Like they would exist even if I didn’t bother to write them down.  It’s an exhilarating feeling.

In addition to my writing group, I had the pleasure of watching Wanted with my husband.  As with Watchmen, it’s a fun movie if you pay no attention to the philosophical problems and holes it contains in its plot.  I thought it was a fun Friday movie, but Wes found it difficult to move beyond the whiny male lead character.  I think Wes’ problem with that guy partially stemmed from the fact that the guy was a wuss whose name was Wesley.  It’s never good when the movie’s resident girly-man shares your name.

I encounter a similar problem with TV characters who share my name.  I can think of no characters named Erika/Erica/Erykah/Aarikaaaaah who are pleasant to watch, so my ire always doubles when I know someone on a show shares my name.  Get your own name, ye harpies!

Completely unrelated to this is the fact that I just booked tickets to go visit my Dad in June.  Squee!  I haven’t seen my Dad or my brother in a year so I’m just a little teensy bit excited ohmygoshisitJuneyet?!?!?!  Alas, on this hyper yet happy note I’m going to have to bid you adieu with nary a witty closing line or thoughtfully appropriate farewell.  All I have is my excitement.  And tendency to switch topics at will.  I’ll just have to leave with you the hope that tomorrow’s post will actually make sense.

Category: Writing  | 5 Comments