NaNoWriMo Day 8 Update: How’s It Going Guys?

Hi Everyone! How’s NaNoWriMo going?

I haven’t got so much of a word count in, but I have been plugging away at 30 days of world building, which I found on this blog here.

Basically you spend each day working on the different aspects of creating your world. So far, I’ve created a climate, created a rough sketch of map, and selected what races will be in my world and how they will interact, etc.

The planning is so detailed and it’s been a lot of fun so far. Some of the stuff I’ve already come up on my own, but before I started doing the exercises I hadn’t even thought as far as climate and how weather (like a bad storm) could help drive a plot point.

Kind of neat! I think tonight I will do my world building exercise, (Economy and Politics!) and get down to some actual writing for once. I tend to not want to sit at my desk, because I sit at one for work all day long, so here I am propped up in bed and it is working so far.

How is everyone doing? How do you keep yourself motivated to keep writing?

Happy Writing Everyone!

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NaNoWriMo is less than a month away!!

So, apparently October is Preptober…

and that means that NaNoWriMo is just around the corner!!! (National Novel writing month.)

I have actually never heard of Preptober before, but I think it is something new that started last year. Now, let’s hope this year’s NaNoWriMo goes a lot better than lasts, eh?

Have you signed up for NaNoWriMo yet? Well, what are you waiting for!!

Poem: Twenty-nine

About a year ago, I wrote a poem called twenty-eight. Well, this year I am twenty-nine and the world is far from perfect. Was discussing with some friends about what is frustrating for our generation in this day and age, and well, here it is.

Twenty-nine

twenty-nine and almost thirty

life is one long road, often dirty.

find a job to save some dough

then it’s paying bills, school loans you owe

twenty-nine and splitting rent

and if you don’t, money is spent

on food, electric and a car to drive

to get to work, to stay alive

Those houses you imagined

with their little white fences

is another lost dream,

in the mountain of expenses

Just for a moment, you’re almost there

then you break a bone, on crappy health care

the road is dirty at twenty-nine

but all the refuse, isn’t mine.

 

Poem: Something Missing

Because…was feeling all the feels the other night.

Something Missing

A boy kicks a hacky sack
outside alphabet soup, toy shop
on that liberal side of town

You can be surrounded by people
And feel so lonely
Smell of incense, wet dirt
Live music, sounds nice
the summer night, to tell a story
a story filled with heartbreak, regrets and new memories

Security is an old man with an empty coffee cup
Families are diverse and couples walk unashamed with tattoos and purple hair
The singer croons and someone in the crown whistles
And I think that this night feels perfect,  almost

The seat next to me is empty
And just as a write this – someone whistles
But it’s not you, babe. It’s not you.

A Quiet Walk By The Falls

I never get tired of these falls by my house. I write about them all the time, I know, but I can’t help it. I love the sound of the running water. So relaxing. I like the way the water smells. I like jumping from rock to rock on the edge of the shore, like I used to do as a child.But that water. There’s no other music like it in the world…this is my crack. This is the sound I fall asleep to. This is the soundtrack for many of the poems that I write.

Adventure is found along the shores of creeks, and falls and rivers. When the water just continues on and on and beckons…it teases you to follow, to discover where it ends.

How I wanted to jump in and go with it tonight, guys. There is freedom here, and longing. I wanted to see where it would take me. I wanted to go, go, go…

Is there something like this that inspires you?

Happy Writing!

Just Reminiscing, Poem: Summer

I love this time of year, and I couldn’t resist sharing this poem I wrote a few years ago. I love this poem. 

Summer is like magic. Summer is the part of yourself that is happy when the sky is blue and the days are longer. Summer is about childhood memories, fireworks and sticky marshmallow fingers sitting around a campfire. Summer is about reminiscing. It’s about dreaming.

Source: fstoppers.com

Source: fstoppers.com

Summer

 

People say there is something

about the way light shines across crystal

across diamonds, too

 

But there is really something to be said

about thousands of lightning bugs

on a warm June night

that makes the world glitter and take a deep breath

 

These are the diamonds of the mid-night summer

these gems of remembrance

these flashes of yesterday.

Poem: Writing Mind

Managed to spend a good four to five hours writing today! This is good news! I worked on a few projects at once, but one project I really got in to today. I realized I could probably submit it to the writer’s digest contest by June 1st, but to do that it needs some serious rewrites.

I got in the writers mindset a lot today and trying to emerge…is like waking up from a deep sleep. (At least it is for me.) I get this spacey expression on my face, and conversation is difficult, because part of me is still thinking about character’s dialogue in my head or planning which way a character is gong to go next.  It is an interesting feeling to say the least, but hey, at least I was productive today!

Pictured I snapped this weekend at the lake.

a writing sort of mood

everything sounds like poetry

blank stare

“Whaa…”

emerge from the world

like a band-aid ripped from a wound

jarred back to the present

words are like poetry

the trees are like poetry in motion

and everything is heavy, heavy, heavy

like a dark blanket

trapping the sun

in its shadows

Writing is Like a Marriage

 

I started going to therapy about two months ago now. It was a hard thing for me at first…I’m not used to baring my soul to a stranger, but I can see the benefits of getting some things out there in the open.

Being a writer has become a big topic of my therapy sessions. My therapist seems to notice how often I talk about writing, how important it is to me, and how frustrated I’ve become with it sometimes.

It is funny, we talk about how writing is sometimes like a marriage; you have your ups and downs and you have to work hard sometimes to keep re-establishing that relationship.

Writing used to be such a big comfort in my life, especially in college. I would take my pen to the blank page and it was like all the cares and worries of the day would fall away as long as I could keep creating, as long as I could keep writing.

Now that magic seems to happen less and less. I don’t always write with the freedom that I used to. It is a rare moment when the words come like a free-flow of consciousness.

It is a work in progress. I blog. I write poetry. I try to work on my novels-in-progress. I try to write at least once a day, but sometimes it is more like a few times a week…

I find myself breaking up with writing and then coming back like, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, can we start over?”

I sometimes find myself wondering: Am I still a writer? And seriously, if I still was, then how come I struggle so much? A person who calls herself a writer doesn’t struggle so much, does she?

Coming back to that same thought process over and over is exhausting and not at all productive. I don’t need to keep trying to convince myself that I am still a writer.

I need to remind myself that writing is a process and no one does it the right way, and no one does it the wrong way. You can read all the self-help books in the world…but remember, what works for someone, might not work for you.

I can’t tell you how much of a relief it was to realize that…that there was no wrong way to approach writing. And a lot of published authors now express some of the same sentiments.

How do they go about writing? Where does the magic come from? Most answers: Who the heck knows?!

What do you guys think?

Happy writing!

I Want to Live Life, Without Feeling Trapped

Having a case of the Sunday night blues tonight. Happens every night lately before the start of a new week. I love my freedom during the days on weekends. To enjoy the sunshine when I want, to read a book, to bake, to enjoy being human and alive and with others and the people who I love.

This current job I’m at now, while there are some decent people, I feel like everyone is so bored with life there. They are so bored and tired of the next day, of a job that keeps going with no end, of a retirement that is still eight years down the road.

It’s had me thinking a lot about what I want out of life, lately. I don’t want to work in a job where my life is taken from me. I want freedom…I want to travel…I want to live.

People judge millennials because we don’t want to work. But people forget many of us are not working in the job we went to school for. We don’t get money because we are doing what we love. We get money because we work at jobs, (very often) that no one else wants to work at.

I’m no slacker. I’ve worked a myriad of jobs to make money to pay the bills and I’ve been miserable at many of them, but I worked them anyway. Where does it say that we have to be miserable to make money?

People say that you should work hard, stay at a job, get retirement, but the sacrifice of life, freedom, and lack of money just doesn’t seem worth it anymore. Forgive me, but, I am no one else’s money-maker.

I want to live my life, without feeling like I’m trapped in my job. Is that really so much to ask?

My Thoughts During a Work-day-Wednesday

cat-1101867_1280We writers think really bizarre thoughts sometimes. Thoughts that jump from one random subject to the next; pondering how life works, what our characters might be thinking, wondering if the hum of the fluorescent lights is actually harmful to your health. (I think it is!)

Maybe it was in Jennifer Lawson’s Furiously Happy that inspired this internal monologue. It might have been. Anyway, here are some of my crazy thoughts from being bored at work today:

A weird article I read: Man Rescued at Sea Was Suspect In Grandfather’s Slaying. Turns out this young man owns a boat named, “The Chicken Pox,” and his mother who was going to inherit millions of dollars from said Grandpa, was mysteriously lost at sea. ***Feel free to use this one for a story idea.

Asked a women on the phone how she was and I get back: “I’m okay, I have a family.”  Is this an expression somewhere I don’t know about? Except, she seemed so sad when she said it to me.

I. Hate. Small. Talk.

Dead silences make me nervous…and sleepy.

Note to Self: Look up weather, it’s going to rain five days straight.

On that thought, seasonal depression might set in early. Remember to research insurances and psychiatrists in the area.

Space cowboys are kind of an awesome thing.

OR, maybe it’s the hum of electronics that you hear in the silence that makes me nervous…no one around but THE MACHINES.

I think I would have added more, but then I got distracted by story-planning and actual work helping customers.

How was your day? Happy Writing!