Unexpected Perk
I needed to mail my last package and several Christmas letters. Last night I stopped by a post office after work and the line was out the wazoo. I decided not to wait because I didn't think I'd get near the front of the line before they closed. So I went to one of the automatic machines to buy stamps for my letters, and they were all sold out. Typical for the season, but still a little crazy.
Today I went to the campus post office. All of the students are gone, as are many of the faculty, so the line was exactly one person long. I mailed my package within a couple of minutes and bought a book of winter-themed stamps. They hadn't sold out! It's nice to get little perks like those, especially when you aren't expecting them.
I am almost completely done with Christmas tasks. We made our last batch of stocking stuff soap and all we need to do is wrap those. Then we should be D-U-N. Then I can relax and read and drink hot cocoa and enjoy a week off of work. Several things to look forward to.
Wednesday
Monday
Well, I wasn't expecting that
From pretty much all I've heard and read, the first trimester is supposed to be a bear. Morning sickness, exhaustion, etc. Mine was a breeze. No morning sickness at all, the only thing that upset my stomach was coffee. I took more naps than usual but that was it. Some days I forgot I was pregnant. The second trimester is supposed to be when morning sickness subsides, when your energy returns; it's the positive time of pregnancy for many women.
For me, not so much. I spent the first week of my second trimester sick as a dog with a cold. Sick as in bed for four days, lost five pounds sick. Second week I spent recovering from the cold, still exhausted but not coughing so much. Third week, I felt better but still not 100%. Then I got a stomach virus.
This past weekend started out great. Nate and I did some shopping, went out a couple of times, and were just having a really nice time together. Saturday night I was watching a movie and noticed my stomach hurt. I took some Mylanta before I went to bed. I spent the next few hours tossing and turning because my stomach ache was getting progressively worse. It hurt to move. I hobbled to the couch a couple of times (hobbling because it hurt to stand up straight and stretch my stomach) because sitting up seemed to hurt less than lying down.
Around 5-6 a.m., after no sleep at all, I threw up. I started drinking liquids. Everything I drank, I threw up. I waited until 9 a.m. and called the answering service for my OB. I got the doctor on call, whom I haven't met in person yet but soon will, and after hearing my symptoms he said he thought this was not pregnancy related, but some kind of bug. "There are a lot of things going around right now." He said he would prescribe anti-nausea medication and offered me a choice: suppositories or a pill that would dissolve under my tongue. After puking everything I had ingested into my body for the previous three or four hours, I had no desire to stick something up my butt (not that I generally have this desire). I chose the pills.
I tried to rest. After not sleeping all night, my cough and congestion had returned. Oh, joy. The pharmacy didn't open until 10 a.m. so I waited while Nate went for the perscription. He got back, I took the pill, and slept until 2 or so. After I woke up and ate some soup, Nate told me that the anti-nausea medication I had is what they sometimes prescribe for patients undergoing chemotherapy. Three pills cost $80.01, after my insurance paid for $50. So those three little pills really cost $130. Sorry, $130.01. All I could think was: like people with cancer don't have enough problems, they are totally screwing them with the drug prices. But they have to get them, right? So they charge as much as the market will bear, I suppose. Made me wonder how much the suppositories were.
I'm waiting to see if my second trimester will improve. I have no idea if my energy is better now because I've been sick pretty much all of this month. I hope things get better. I'm afraid of what I could catch next.
From pretty much all I've heard and read, the first trimester is supposed to be a bear. Morning sickness, exhaustion, etc. Mine was a breeze. No morning sickness at all, the only thing that upset my stomach was coffee. I took more naps than usual but that was it. Some days I forgot I was pregnant. The second trimester is supposed to be when morning sickness subsides, when your energy returns; it's the positive time of pregnancy for many women.
For me, not so much. I spent the first week of my second trimester sick as a dog with a cold. Sick as in bed for four days, lost five pounds sick. Second week I spent recovering from the cold, still exhausted but not coughing so much. Third week, I felt better but still not 100%. Then I got a stomach virus.
This past weekend started out great. Nate and I did some shopping, went out a couple of times, and were just having a really nice time together. Saturday night I was watching a movie and noticed my stomach hurt. I took some Mylanta before I went to bed. I spent the next few hours tossing and turning because my stomach ache was getting progressively worse. It hurt to move. I hobbled to the couch a couple of times (hobbling because it hurt to stand up straight and stretch my stomach) because sitting up seemed to hurt less than lying down.
Around 5-6 a.m., after no sleep at all, I threw up. I started drinking liquids. Everything I drank, I threw up. I waited until 9 a.m. and called the answering service for my OB. I got the doctor on call, whom I haven't met in person yet but soon will, and after hearing my symptoms he said he thought this was not pregnancy related, but some kind of bug. "There are a lot of things going around right now." He said he would prescribe anti-nausea medication and offered me a choice: suppositories or a pill that would dissolve under my tongue. After puking everything I had ingested into my body for the previous three or four hours, I had no desire to stick something up my butt (not that I generally have this desire). I chose the pills.
I tried to rest. After not sleeping all night, my cough and congestion had returned. Oh, joy. The pharmacy didn't open until 10 a.m. so I waited while Nate went for the perscription. He got back, I took the pill, and slept until 2 or so. After I woke up and ate some soup, Nate told me that the anti-nausea medication I had is what they sometimes prescribe for patients undergoing chemotherapy. Three pills cost $80.01, after my insurance paid for $50. So those three little pills really cost $130. Sorry, $130.01. All I could think was: like people with cancer don't have enough problems, they are totally screwing them with the drug prices. But they have to get them, right? So they charge as much as the market will bear, I suppose. Made me wonder how much the suppositories were.
I'm waiting to see if my second trimester will improve. I have no idea if my energy is better now because I've been sick pretty much all of this month. I hope things get better. I'm afraid of what I could catch next.
Friday
More Theater of the Absurd
"A fence-building company in Southern California agrees to pay nearly $5 million in fines for hiring illegal immigrants. Two executives from the company may also serve jail time. The Golden State Fence Company's work includes some of the border fence between San Diego and Mexico."
...
"Golden State Fence's attorney, Richard Hirsch, admits his client broke the law. But he says the case proves that construction companies need a guest-worker program."
You can listen to the story on NPR.
(Thanks to Nate for the link.)
"A fence-building company in Southern California agrees to pay nearly $5 million in fines for hiring illegal immigrants. Two executives from the company may also serve jail time. The Golden State Fence Company's work includes some of the border fence between San Diego and Mexico."
...
"Golden State Fence's attorney, Richard Hirsch, admits his client broke the law. But he says the case proves that construction companies need a guest-worker program."
You can listen to the story on NPR.
(Thanks to Nate for the link.)
Thursday
Unrelated Items
The topics I’m going to mention have nothing to do with each other, so don’t try to figure out the link between them. Think of them as unrelated jetsam floating around in my teeny brain (apparently, your brain shrinks while you’re pregnant).
1. This past summer, Nate and I were at a nearby gas station in the Casa Linda Plaza. We were getting gas or air for the tires, I don’t remember which. Nate was taking care of business and I think I was just standing outside, keeping him company and chatting. There was a long line of cars waiting for the light to change at Garland and Buckner. While all the cars were stopped, we noticed a woman get out of a truck. She began running through the traffic toward the gas station. She was wearing a pink tank top, black capris, and flip-flops. As she ran, her pants (they had an elastic waist) began to fall and I saw her thong. She hiked them back up. As she got closer, I could hear that she was making these funny hitching, hiccupping noises. At first I thought she was breathing funny from the heat and the running, then I thought she was laughing. Nate and I were both watching her and we both realized at roughly the same time that she was afraid. After she got to the gas station, she began to walk toward the store portion, but kept looking over her shoulder. She was still making those odd noises. What we concluded was that either she had a fight in the truck with the guy she’d been with, or he’d threatened her or something, and she took off running when she got the chance. We debated going to see if she was all right, but we the truck screeched away when the light changed, the woman was inside talking to the clerk, and she seemed OK. Just one of those odd big-city moments, I suppose. For some reason, that scene has stuck with me since then.
2. This morning, Nate was walking the dogs and I was drying off after my shower. I heard the phone ringing and picked up as the answering machine was beginning to record. (I know. How ’80s, an answering machine. Anyway …) It was one of our Visa cards, calling to confirm some recent transactions. Since we have been using that card primarily to buy our Xmas presents this year, (with the plan to send one big check to them at the end), I assumed it was our various charges they were checking on. Nate and I went to listen to the message again and it wasn’t there. Weird. Lost in the nether world of answering machines, I guess. But when Nate talked to the customer service person, he discovered that in addition to our gifts, someone tried to pay for two different hotel rooms (one in Florida) and charged a nice trip to Macy’s. We have no idea how they got the number, and when he asked the person what she thought, if it was possibly through some of the online purchases we’d made, she said they could have gotten it “one of a million ways.” Comforting.
3. Two of my friends gave birth to baby girls last week, one in Austin and one in Dallas. I’m having lunch with one of them today (the Dallas friend, obviously). Another of my friends is due in February in Chicago. The cool thing about all this is I am getting great tips and advice from all these ladies who have walked the gauntlet before me.
4. Some of Nate's photos. Included: his new Element, the wall he just finished, and our Xmas soap stocking stuffers.
The topics I’m going to mention have nothing to do with each other, so don’t try to figure out the link between them. Think of them as unrelated jetsam floating around in my teeny brain (apparently, your brain shrinks while you’re pregnant).
1. This past summer, Nate and I were at a nearby gas station in the Casa Linda Plaza. We were getting gas or air for the tires, I don’t remember which. Nate was taking care of business and I think I was just standing outside, keeping him company and chatting. There was a long line of cars waiting for the light to change at Garland and Buckner. While all the cars were stopped, we noticed a woman get out of a truck. She began running through the traffic toward the gas station. She was wearing a pink tank top, black capris, and flip-flops. As she ran, her pants (they had an elastic waist) began to fall and I saw her thong. She hiked them back up. As she got closer, I could hear that she was making these funny hitching, hiccupping noises. At first I thought she was breathing funny from the heat and the running, then I thought she was laughing. Nate and I were both watching her and we both realized at roughly the same time that she was afraid. After she got to the gas station, she began to walk toward the store portion, but kept looking over her shoulder. She was still making those odd noises. What we concluded was that either she had a fight in the truck with the guy she’d been with, or he’d threatened her or something, and she took off running when she got the chance. We debated going to see if she was all right, but we the truck screeched away when the light changed, the woman was inside talking to the clerk, and she seemed OK. Just one of those odd big-city moments, I suppose. For some reason, that scene has stuck with me since then.
2. This morning, Nate was walking the dogs and I was drying off after my shower. I heard the phone ringing and picked up as the answering machine was beginning to record. (I know. How ’80s, an answering machine. Anyway …) It was one of our Visa cards, calling to confirm some recent transactions. Since we have been using that card primarily to buy our Xmas presents this year, (with the plan to send one big check to them at the end), I assumed it was our various charges they were checking on. Nate and I went to listen to the message again and it wasn’t there. Weird. Lost in the nether world of answering machines, I guess. But when Nate talked to the customer service person, he discovered that in addition to our gifts, someone tried to pay for two different hotel rooms (one in Florida) and charged a nice trip to Macy’s. We have no idea how they got the number, and when he asked the person what she thought, if it was possibly through some of the online purchases we’d made, she said they could have gotten it “one of a million ways.” Comforting.
3. Two of my friends gave birth to baby girls last week, one in Austin and one in Dallas. I’m having lunch with one of them today (the Dallas friend, obviously). Another of my friends is due in February in Chicago. The cool thing about all this is I am getting great tips and advice from all these ladies who have walked the gauntlet before me.
4. Some of Nate's photos. Included: his new Element, the wall he just finished, and our Xmas soap stocking stuffers.
Tuesday
Interesting
1. "A three-year undercover investigation by the National Fair Housing Alliance found that real estate agents steered whites away from integrated neighborhoods and steered blacks toward predominantly black neighborhoods."
2. "Candidates named Emily O'Brien or Neil McCarthy were much more likely to get calls back from potential employers than applicants named Tamika Williams and Jamal Jackson, even though they had the same credentials, according to a study by the University of Chicago."
Both from CNN.
3. "Lionel Richie remembers when the Commodores "decided to give ourselves Mercedes for Christmas. I walked into a Montgomery, Ala., dealership in blue jeans and T-shirt and said, 'I'd like to buy seven Mercedes.' Looking at me, the guy asked, 'Son, can you get me some proof?' So I had him call the president of Bank of America in Los Angeles. He hung up, and I went from 'Son' to "Mr. Richie, right this way, please.' "
[What stood out to me was the "son."] From the always reliable Page Six.
4. "... also a sign of our times among 20 and 30 somethings is the testimonial of the Border Patrol agent who said she and her family crossed over illegally. She considers herself and her siblings all model citizens contributing productively to this country. She believes by working to capture would-be immigrants at the Border she may be saving a life. Or at least that is how she justifies her chosen job. She does not say what she would have felt to be caught, uh, excuse me, 'rescued' and returned to Mexico, instead of successfully dodging the Border Patrol to one day being able to apply for residency and I imagine now, citizenship. The Theatre of the Absurd, like I said."
The December 12 entry on Ana Castillo's blog.
Not much to add to any of these items. I found them all interesting, especially in combination with odd comments I've overhead in public places recently. Just seems like a lot of racial confusion going on lately.
1. "A three-year undercover investigation by the National Fair Housing Alliance found that real estate agents steered whites away from integrated neighborhoods and steered blacks toward predominantly black neighborhoods."
2. "Candidates named Emily O'Brien or Neil McCarthy were much more likely to get calls back from potential employers than applicants named Tamika Williams and Jamal Jackson, even though they had the same credentials, according to a study by the University of Chicago."
Both from CNN.
3. "Lionel Richie remembers when the Commodores "decided to give ourselves Mercedes for Christmas. I walked into a Montgomery, Ala., dealership in blue jeans and T-shirt and said, 'I'd like to buy seven Mercedes.' Looking at me, the guy asked, 'Son, can you get me some proof?' So I had him call the president of Bank of America in Los Angeles. He hung up, and I went from 'Son' to "Mr. Richie, right this way, please.' "
[What stood out to me was the "son."] From the always reliable Page Six.
4. "... also a sign of our times among 20 and 30 somethings is the testimonial of the Border Patrol agent who said she and her family crossed over illegally. She considers herself and her siblings all model citizens contributing productively to this country. She believes by working to capture would-be immigrants at the Border she may be saving a life. Or at least that is how she justifies her chosen job. She does not say what she would have felt to be caught, uh, excuse me, 'rescued' and returned to Mexico, instead of successfully dodging the Border Patrol to one day being able to apply for residency and I imagine now, citizenship. The Theatre of the Absurd, like I said."
The December 12 entry on Ana Castillo's blog.
Not much to add to any of these items. I found them all interesting, especially in combination with odd comments I've overhead in public places recently. Just seems like a lot of racial confusion going on lately.
Monday
Some Odd or Amusing Things (a List)
1. My belly is now fuzzy. I think I’ve forgotten to mention that my former barely perceptible peach fuzz is now longer, darker, and visible to the naked eye. Hormones, I guess?
2. In a related note, the line that stretches from my navel to my pubic area (called the linea negra, I believe) suddenly got darker one day. Now it’s lighter again. Very odd. I assume it will get darker again with time.
3. I did an experiment last night. I couldn’t sleep so I tried to find the baby. I would find an area on my stomach where it felt harder. When I pressed on it, I would feel a strong sense of pressure (this sensitive spot moved and the rest of my stomach felt “normal”). So I would find the baby, press, the baby would move away, I would find the hard spot again, press, move again, press. For some reason this seemed hilarious to me at the time and I laughed loud enough to wake up the dogs (did I mention it was about 1 a.m.?).
4. Roscoe our cat sleeps with us only during the winter. During the summer he likes to do his own thing. Nate has woken up on the very edge of his side of the bed, looked behind me, and found Roscoe sprawled out with his four legs pressing against my back so he can maintain his territory. I lie in the middle, resented on both sides.
5. I am making soap as stocking stuffers this year. Last night Nate helped me. He came us with some crazy combinations and his “pinches” of color powder (what you add to make the soaps different shades) were like half the container. Pretty funny, but he got me to try some things I probably wouldn’t have otherwise.
6. I went to a poetry reading last night that I very much enjoyed and met some nice people. The emcee of the event said he’d been living in Dallas for 23 years and only six or seven years ago began to feel at home. That gave me some hope because I still feel like a tourist after living here two and half years.
7. I drank my first glass of wine on Friday night. I’ve heard conflicting things about alcohol. Don’t drink any; an occasional glass is fine; you never know, so why take a chance; etc. It took me at least an hour to finish my glass. It was lovely. Then the next day I felt horribly guilty and worried I was doing long-lasting damage. I have pregnant friends who largely disregard the list of things you’re supposed to avoid (sushi, soft, non-pasteurized cheese, deli meat, sausage, etc.) and others who are very careful to follow all the rules. I’m in between. I follow the suggestions about 95% of the time, indulge in that goat-cheese and spinach omelet or that one glass of wine because it sounds so good at the time, and then feel guilty afterward. I may need to rethink my strategy.
1. My belly is now fuzzy. I think I’ve forgotten to mention that my former barely perceptible peach fuzz is now longer, darker, and visible to the naked eye. Hormones, I guess?
2. In a related note, the line that stretches from my navel to my pubic area (called the linea negra, I believe) suddenly got darker one day. Now it’s lighter again. Very odd. I assume it will get darker again with time.
3. I did an experiment last night. I couldn’t sleep so I tried to find the baby. I would find an area on my stomach where it felt harder. When I pressed on it, I would feel a strong sense of pressure (this sensitive spot moved and the rest of my stomach felt “normal”). So I would find the baby, press, the baby would move away, I would find the hard spot again, press, move again, press. For some reason this seemed hilarious to me at the time and I laughed loud enough to wake up the dogs (did I mention it was about 1 a.m.?).
4. Roscoe our cat sleeps with us only during the winter. During the summer he likes to do his own thing. Nate has woken up on the very edge of his side of the bed, looked behind me, and found Roscoe sprawled out with his four legs pressing against my back so he can maintain his territory. I lie in the middle, resented on both sides.
5. I am making soap as stocking stuffers this year. Last night Nate helped me. He came us with some crazy combinations and his “pinches” of color powder (what you add to make the soaps different shades) were like half the container. Pretty funny, but he got me to try some things I probably wouldn’t have otherwise.
6. I went to a poetry reading last night that I very much enjoyed and met some nice people. The emcee of the event said he’d been living in Dallas for 23 years and only six or seven years ago began to feel at home. That gave me some hope because I still feel like a tourist after living here two and half years.
7. I drank my first glass of wine on Friday night. I’ve heard conflicting things about alcohol. Don’t drink any; an occasional glass is fine; you never know, so why take a chance; etc. It took me at least an hour to finish my glass. It was lovely. Then the next day I felt horribly guilty and worried I was doing long-lasting damage. I have pregnant friends who largely disregard the list of things you’re supposed to avoid (sushi, soft, non-pasteurized cheese, deli meat, sausage, etc.) and others who are very careful to follow all the rules. I’m in between. I follow the suggestions about 95% of the time, indulge in that goat-cheese and spinach omelet or that one glass of wine because it sounds so good at the time, and then feel guilty afterward. I may need to rethink my strategy.
Friday
Showing (Maybe?)
Last night Nate and I were in the kitchen getting ready for dinner. I was leaning against a counter talking to him and he said, “You’re showing. I can see your belly.” I was wearing a pretty loose shirt, but I think he’s right. It’s funny because when I’ve normally put on a few pounds, I get generally wide all over. I mean, my whole belly, hips, butt, thighs, arms, etc. Right now it’s just my stomach (perhaps that will change with time) sticking out in front.
I am going to a holiday party, so I was trying to figure out what to wear. I tried on a few different outfits and had to retire several pairs of pants. My body is definitely changing. The legs and butt still fit fine (again, another detail that may change with time) but I couldn’t button the waist on several things. Also I noticed I can no longer wear some shirts. I have the unintentional flesh flashing between some critical buttons, if you know what I mean.
So far pregnancy has been interesting. Things are happening that are simply beyond my control. For someone who thinks too much most of the time, having a process that happens wholly in the body, without my input or effort, has been a different experience.
The last couple of nights I’ve suspected I felt the baby moving. My doc and most people would say it’s too early, it was my imagination or gas or digestion or something, but I really do think it’s the baby. It’s happened at night when I’m resting and relaxed, and I feel these odd, fluttering movements. The same area of my stomach where those feelings are coming from also seems harder than everywhere else, like maybe there’s a little munchkin doing the mambo in there. So I don’t know for sure, but it seems like ze baby to moi.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about the baby’s gender. Nate wanted to find out and I didn’t. I’ve mentioned before that Nate is a planner (he wants to know how we should decorate the nursery, what clothes to buy, and someone is making us a baby quilt), but I am not. It’s not so much the surprise factor, I mean, it’s going to be a girl or a boy, right? How much of a surprise can there be really? My attitude is that it’s more a matter of waiting for the proper time. There’s no need to rush things that have their own way and method of unfolding. The snow falls when it falls. The cake is done when it’s done. You find out what you’re having when you have it. I understand that many people don’t agree (including my husband), and I’ve decided to compromise in this particular case because I’ve had dreams about the baby and feel like I know what flavor the munchkin is anyway. I could be wrong. I guess we’ll know in a couple of weeks, if the baby cooperates. My sister and I have a bet going. I’ll let you know who’s taking home the moolah.
Last night Nate and I were in the kitchen getting ready for dinner. I was leaning against a counter talking to him and he said, “You’re showing. I can see your belly.” I was wearing a pretty loose shirt, but I think he’s right. It’s funny because when I’ve normally put on a few pounds, I get generally wide all over. I mean, my whole belly, hips, butt, thighs, arms, etc. Right now it’s just my stomach (perhaps that will change with time) sticking out in front.
I am going to a holiday party, so I was trying to figure out what to wear. I tried on a few different outfits and had to retire several pairs of pants. My body is definitely changing. The legs and butt still fit fine (again, another detail that may change with time) but I couldn’t button the waist on several things. Also I noticed I can no longer wear some shirts. I have the unintentional flesh flashing between some critical buttons, if you know what I mean.
So far pregnancy has been interesting. Things are happening that are simply beyond my control. For someone who thinks too much most of the time, having a process that happens wholly in the body, without my input or effort, has been a different experience.
The last couple of nights I’ve suspected I felt the baby moving. My doc and most people would say it’s too early, it was my imagination or gas or digestion or something, but I really do think it’s the baby. It’s happened at night when I’m resting and relaxed, and I feel these odd, fluttering movements. The same area of my stomach where those feelings are coming from also seems harder than everywhere else, like maybe there’s a little munchkin doing the mambo in there. So I don’t know for sure, but it seems like ze baby to moi.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about the baby’s gender. Nate wanted to find out and I didn’t. I’ve mentioned before that Nate is a planner (he wants to know how we should decorate the nursery, what clothes to buy, and someone is making us a baby quilt), but I am not. It’s not so much the surprise factor, I mean, it’s going to be a girl or a boy, right? How much of a surprise can there be really? My attitude is that it’s more a matter of waiting for the proper time. There’s no need to rush things that have their own way and method of unfolding. The snow falls when it falls. The cake is done when it’s done. You find out what you’re having when you have it. I understand that many people don’t agree (including my husband), and I’ve decided to compromise in this particular case because I’ve had dreams about the baby and feel like I know what flavor the munchkin is anyway. I could be wrong. I guess we’ll know in a couple of weeks, if the baby cooperates. My sister and I have a bet going. I’ll let you know who’s taking home the moolah.
Tuesday
Recovering
I haven’t written in awhile because I got very sick over Thanksgiving. There’s some sort of vicious bird-flu virus going around. I know a lot of people have been sick and this thing stays with you for quite a while (when I went to see him, my doc said he’d been sick for three weeks). I missed four days of work last week. When I finally left my house on Friday, I felt like I’d been underwater, underground, or like I’d been hibernating. The pregnancy probably complicated matters in the sense that I couldn’t take very strong medicine and my immunity is probably lower. All I did was sleep. I couldn’t taste things very well so I didn’t eat much and lost weight, but have regained it all in the last few days so no worries there.
At the beginning of my incubation, I was eating whatever I wanted. I’m now trying to go back to my decent-ish eating habits. It’s not hard for me to eat well, usually, but I think I had that “I’m pregnant” entitlement feeling, like I should be able to eat whatever I wanted. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I would prefer not to get as big as a house. Also, my doc thinks I should try to limit myself to gaining 20-25 pounds. Before I got pregnant, I had some elevated liver enzyme readings, which is a common sign of “fatty liver.” I think this is probably a problem in the West, where we eat too much refined, fatty food, don’t get enough exercise, have high obesity rates, etc. So after the elevated reading, I started working out again and eating better. I eventually lost 18 pounds, which was good, and my liver readings went down. Even though I haven’t gained too much weight so far (six pounds at 15 weeks) I think I need to start paying attention to the quality of my diet because of the liver thing. Apparently, fatty liver can also be a complication of pregnancy.
Anyway, I’ll try not to focus too much on pregnancy and weight talk, since it bores even me sometimes, but it is what’s on my mind a lot lately. The other thing on my mind is queries, queries, queries. I haven’t sent out too many lately since I was sick as a dog, but I have gotten a couple of requests for the full manuscript, which has been an ego boost. Especially one that I received just as I was coming down with my cold. We were looking at our mail after our Thanksgiving trip and I recognized my own SASE. “It’s a rejection,” I told Nate, but when I opened the letter it was a request to send the entire novel. So things are moving along. Wish me luck.
I haven’t written in awhile because I got very sick over Thanksgiving. There’s some sort of vicious bird-flu virus going around. I know a lot of people have been sick and this thing stays with you for quite a while (when I went to see him, my doc said he’d been sick for three weeks). I missed four days of work last week. When I finally left my house on Friday, I felt like I’d been underwater, underground, or like I’d been hibernating. The pregnancy probably complicated matters in the sense that I couldn’t take very strong medicine and my immunity is probably lower. All I did was sleep. I couldn’t taste things very well so I didn’t eat much and lost weight, but have regained it all in the last few days so no worries there.
At the beginning of my incubation, I was eating whatever I wanted. I’m now trying to go back to my decent-ish eating habits. It’s not hard for me to eat well, usually, but I think I had that “I’m pregnant” entitlement feeling, like I should be able to eat whatever I wanted. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I would prefer not to get as big as a house. Also, my doc thinks I should try to limit myself to gaining 20-25 pounds. Before I got pregnant, I had some elevated liver enzyme readings, which is a common sign of “fatty liver.” I think this is probably a problem in the West, where we eat too much refined, fatty food, don’t get enough exercise, have high obesity rates, etc. So after the elevated reading, I started working out again and eating better. I eventually lost 18 pounds, which was good, and my liver readings went down. Even though I haven’t gained too much weight so far (six pounds at 15 weeks) I think I need to start paying attention to the quality of my diet because of the liver thing. Apparently, fatty liver can also be a complication of pregnancy.
Anyway, I’ll try not to focus too much on pregnancy and weight talk, since it bores even me sometimes, but it is what’s on my mind a lot lately. The other thing on my mind is queries, queries, queries. I haven’t sent out too many lately since I was sick as a dog, but I have gotten a couple of requests for the full manuscript, which has been an ego boost. Especially one that I received just as I was coming down with my cold. We were looking at our mail after our Thanksgiving trip and I recognized my own SASE. “It’s a rejection,” I told Nate, but when I opened the letter it was a request to send the entire novel. So things are moving along. Wish me luck.
Thursday
The Meaning of Life
Last night I made some chicken-cheese-corn chowder. It’s pretty damned good, if I do say so myself. Nate liked it, too, which is always a good sign. I’ve been cooking a lot more lately. I think that’s due to a couple of things. I recently finished Julie and Julia, which, if you haven’t read the book, details a year in the life of an outer-boroughs secretary while she tries to cook 500+ Julia Child recipes in a year. The other reason I think I’m cooking more is because I decided to take the month of November off from writing.
To recharge creatively was the idea, but there’s been an unintended side effect of not writing. I’ve been in a serious funk. I started blaming a lot of different things: work, not exercising regularly right now, hormones (I am pregnant, after all). But then I realized it’s none of those things. When I’m not writing, I feel at a loss. Writing makes me feel like I have a purpose in the world, like I’m doing something important (even if it’s only important to me). So when I’m not writing, I look around and think, is this it? Is this my life?
I know it’s a good life. I have a great husband, I love my house, I have good friends and family who love me, and oh yeah, I’m going to have a baby soon! These are all tremendous things. But somehow I still find myself searching for more. Luckily, only two more weeks until December. Then I can start working on my next book.
Last night I made some chicken-cheese-corn chowder. It’s pretty damned good, if I do say so myself. Nate liked it, too, which is always a good sign. I’ve been cooking a lot more lately. I think that’s due to a couple of things. I recently finished Julie and Julia, which, if you haven’t read the book, details a year in the life of an outer-boroughs secretary while she tries to cook 500+ Julia Child recipes in a year. The other reason I think I’m cooking more is because I decided to take the month of November off from writing.
To recharge creatively was the idea, but there’s been an unintended side effect of not writing. I’ve been in a serious funk. I started blaming a lot of different things: work, not exercising regularly right now, hormones (I am pregnant, after all). But then I realized it’s none of those things. When I’m not writing, I feel at a loss. Writing makes me feel like I have a purpose in the world, like I’m doing something important (even if it’s only important to me). So when I’m not writing, I look around and think, is this it? Is this my life?
I know it’s a good life. I have a great husband, I love my house, I have good friends and family who love me, and oh yeah, I’m going to have a baby soon! These are all tremendous things. But somehow I still find myself searching for more. Luckily, only two more weeks until December. Then I can start working on my next book.
Friday
Thank You, Time
Today Katy and I were talking about how there are some songs you associate with exes. And how when we used to hear them, even if we didn't want to get back together with that person, and maybe we were in a better place now, the song still made us blue. But once enough time passes, you can listen to that music again and just appreciate it for what it is without getting all moody blues about it. So thank you, time, for giving music back to me.
Today Katy and I were talking about how there are some songs you associate with exes. And how when we used to hear them, even if we didn't want to get back together with that person, and maybe we were in a better place now, the song still made us blue. But once enough time passes, you can listen to that music again and just appreciate it for what it is without getting all moody blues about it. So thank you, time, for giving music back to me.
Some Recent Realizations
My query letter has gone from sucking to so-so. Those letters are a bitch to write. I’ve seen some examples of good ones, but mine is not quite there yet. It’s serviceable, I guess, but hopefully I can get it a little better. That being said, I’m sending it out. Since I’m sending submissions in rounds, I’m hoping the letter will get better as I learn things. I don’t expect it to be perfect from the get-go.
In my research, I’ve read that agents and editors do not want long books (generally speaking, not more than 100K words) from debut authors. So I’m debating not mentioning my 146K-word count in my cover letters anymore. One of my readers had suggested cutting one of characters in the novel (one of my favorites, naturally). If I do end up following her suggestion, I may lose about 25k, which is still a long novel, but if length becomes an issue, he may be a good place to start cutting. In some ways, it would be hard to lose David. He gives me warm fuzzy feelings, but my friend might be right. The novel focuses on a family, and he’s the only narrator who isn’t an immediate member of that family. I thought it gave me an outsider’s look into a closed group, but maybe it takes the reader off track, as my reader said. I’m still mulling this over, but am more willing now to consider cutting him.
I’ve come up with a new reading strategy. Usually when I’m reading a book at home, I read before I fall asleep and leave the book on my night table. Since I am not and have never been a morning person and often wake up late, I usually forget my book at home and don’t have anything to read at lunch. I’ve solved this by having a second book at work (revolutionary concept, I know). Right now I’m reading Julie and Julia at work.
I just finished reading Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. It’s the second or third time I’ve read it in about ten years. This time I was trying to figure out how she’d pulled off a couple of things in her novel. One of the things I’ve always loved about books is how you can connect with a place (Cornwall, England) you’ve never been to, read about a life very different from yours (landed and titled British gentry), during an earlier time, and still completely understand and connect with the characters. As I was reading the book there were definitely times I was thinking, Damn, girl, you can write. But she was a Dame so you probably wouldn’t call her “girl.” Dame Daphne, if you’re nasty.
Hecho en Mexico
Warning: some bodily funcions discussed below. OK, as you were.
Since Nate wrote about this on his site, I think I can write about it here as well. The biggest change around these here parts is that we will soon be adding a baby to the Stullover household. My due date is May 27, 2007.
This means that while we were on vacation, we did more than bring home a few souvenirs from Mexico. Based on my guess, I think we conceived in Zacatecas around Labor Day. Originally, our plan had been to try to get pregnant in December. In preparation, I'd stopped taking birth control and I was taking prenatal vitamins. Over the next couple of months, we wanted to paint a couple of rooms in the house, maybe pay off a credit card. And I had plans to run a half marathon on Dec. 10 in Dallas. Right before we left for our trip, I realized I was ovulating. Since were on vacation, we said, what the heck?
So I think we got pregnant on a Monday or Tuesday. On Wednesday we left Zacatecas for Guanajuato. We stayed at Pita's, and she is a truly wonderful host. Her house is 300 hundred years old and very quirky. On Thursday, Nate got really sick. It seemed like altitude sickness--nausea, dizziness, exhaustion--only we had left a higher elevation and gone to a lower one, so it was a little odd. Pita asked me if I thought I might be pregnant, because when her daughter was expecting, it was her son-in-law who had all the symptoms. I laughed it off at the time, but wondered if she might be right. The next day, we visited my old house mother, who also asked me about being pregnant. I told her I honestly didn't know and if I was, it was early. We spent most of the visit talking about children and babies and she gave me advice on breastfeeding.
Then we got back to Texas. For the next few mornings when I drank my morning coffee, I felt sick. My stomach felt like it was tied up in knots. I stopped drinking coffee and a day or so before my period, I took one of those early-pregnancy tests. Negative. Went out that night and ate sushi because an old friend was in town and damn I love me some raw fish (probably wouldn't have done that if I'd known). A few days later when there was still no sign of the crimson wave, Nate drove me to the pharmacy and I bought another test or two. Took that one. The line was so faint, neither one of us was sure if it was a positive or if it was an evaporation line. It was truly confusing. Waited a few more days and got a positive, which at that point I was suspecting. I am so rarely late. For me to have been more than a week late would have literally been the first time in my life I'd ever been that delayed.
Everything was confirmed by the doc a few weeks later. I heard the heartbeat at seven weeks and saw a very shrimp-like creature floating around. We went back today, and at 10 weeks, the jelly bean looks much more babyish. Heartbeat was good and the doctor commented on what a "wiggly worm" the baby was and the length was a little less than two inches.
Needless to say, this is why my training has slowed. I am still running but am doing 2-3 miles versus the 5-6 I was running before. No morning sickness at all, aside from not being able to drink coffee. I've always had food cravings and almost always indulged them, so at this point, there's really nothing different in my life except I've been so tiiiiiired. Taking a lot of naps. I'm also eating more dairy than I normally would. Only other difference is that these past few days I've felt sort of a firmness in my belly. I think it's pooching out a little more, but I doubt anyone else could tell unless they saw me nekkid. And I've never had a totally flat belly, so it's not like that's a big change for me either.
So that's the big news. Waiting on the latest Stullover and drinking milkshakes. It's been pretty fun so far.
Wednesday
Disjointed
This entry is going to be a little all over the place. I feel like I'm coming down with something so my thinking is definitely not linear today.
Mexico
I found a link to a cartoonist's entries. He's in Oaxaca for a year with his family and has written a few thoughts on the conflict going on there.
Austin vs. Dallas
Got back from Austin on Sunday night and I was tiiiired. Not sure I'm recovered even now (perhaps that's why I feel like I'm coming down with something?). The book festival was good, a little heavy on politics, which is to be expected during an election year but not necessarily my cup of tea.
As we left, I felt quite ambivalent about Austin. To be honest, Nate and I have harbored fantasies of moving back to A-town, a city we both enjoyed and where we happened to fall in love and get married. Dallas is very spread out and thus is a car-centric town. In Austin, I was surprised by all the people walking around and on bikes, all the family friendly activities that brought people outside, and I loved that people are just out and about.
The bad side is that it now seems so incredibly crowded. A drive that used to take us 15-20 minutes took almost an hour; after ordering breakfast tacos at Taco Xpress, we waited for more than 20 minutes for our food; getting seated for dinner on Friday night took quite awhile, too. There are just a ton of people there now.
But then there are the odd, Austin moments. Looking over to the table next to us at dinner and seeing John Kerry drinking a frozen margarita; eating our breakfast tacos and seeing some old-school Austinites (aka, hippies) handing out roses to all the people in Taco Xpress. So I'm not sure. I really don't know if I want to live there again or not. There are condos sprouting freakin' everywhere, but our friends, they're always good.
We stayed with great hosts, Bill and Kimberly, and participated in their inaugural dinner for a supper club they've started. We got to catch up with some old friends at Gueros. And we were there for our neice's two year birthday party, which was a lot of fun (unwrapping the presents seemed to be more exciting than the presents themselves). We got back to Dallas and I felt, it's not as bad as some people would have you believe. It's really not that bad at all. We'll see if it grows on me over time (like a fungus, perhaps?).
In more recent, Dallas news, we had a few trick or treaters last night, maybe 10-15, about 30% in costumes. We almost gave away all our candy. I should have given more away at the beginning, I now know. I was trying to be conservative in case we had a lot of kids (three or four pieces per treater) but Nate was giving them bunches and gobs. I should have been more like him.
Lately, I've been doing quite a bit of reading. Since I'm done with the novel for now (unless an agent or editor asks for revisions--if I'm lucky), I've been relaxing and recharging. Hanging out with Nate, watching TV, and reading. I'm gearing up for my next project so I'm reading some other work for inspiration and ideas. I'm waiting for the story to gel and start coming together. I feel that happening. I should be ready to start soon; December, I'm guessing.
This entry is going to be a little all over the place. I feel like I'm coming down with something so my thinking is definitely not linear today.
Mexico
I found a link to a cartoonist's entries. He's in Oaxaca for a year with his family and has written a few thoughts on the conflict going on there.
Austin vs. Dallas
Got back from Austin on Sunday night and I was tiiiired. Not sure I'm recovered even now (perhaps that's why I feel like I'm coming down with something?). The book festival was good, a little heavy on politics, which is to be expected during an election year but not necessarily my cup of tea.
As we left, I felt quite ambivalent about Austin. To be honest, Nate and I have harbored fantasies of moving back to A-town, a city we both enjoyed and where we happened to fall in love and get married. Dallas is very spread out and thus is a car-centric town. In Austin, I was surprised by all the people walking around and on bikes, all the family friendly activities that brought people outside, and I loved that people are just out and about.
The bad side is that it now seems so incredibly crowded. A drive that used to take us 15-20 minutes took almost an hour; after ordering breakfast tacos at Taco Xpress, we waited for more than 20 minutes for our food; getting seated for dinner on Friday night took quite awhile, too. There are just a ton of people there now.
But then there are the odd, Austin moments. Looking over to the table next to us at dinner and seeing John Kerry drinking a frozen margarita; eating our breakfast tacos and seeing some old-school Austinites (aka, hippies) handing out roses to all the people in Taco Xpress. So I'm not sure. I really don't know if I want to live there again or not. There are condos sprouting freakin' everywhere, but our friends, they're always good.
We stayed with great hosts, Bill and Kimberly, and participated in their inaugural dinner for a supper club they've started. We got to catch up with some old friends at Gueros. And we were there for our neice's two year birthday party, which was a lot of fun (unwrapping the presents seemed to be more exciting than the presents themselves). We got back to Dallas and I felt, it's not as bad as some people would have you believe. It's really not that bad at all. We'll see if it grows on me over time (like a fungus, perhaps?).
In more recent, Dallas news, we had a few trick or treaters last night, maybe 10-15, about 30% in costumes. We almost gave away all our candy. I should have given more away at the beginning, I now know. I was trying to be conservative in case we had a lot of kids (three or four pieces per treater) but Nate was giving them bunches and gobs. I should have been more like him.
Lately, I've been doing quite a bit of reading. Since I'm done with the novel for now (unless an agent or editor asks for revisions--if I'm lucky), I've been relaxing and recharging. Hanging out with Nate, watching TV, and reading. I'm gearing up for my next project so I'm reading some other work for inspiration and ideas. I'm waiting for the story to gel and start coming together. I feel that happening. I should be ready to start soon; December, I'm guessing.
And it Begins
I've sent two full manuscripts off in the last couple of days. They went to agents I'd had previous conversations with who said they wanted to see the book when it was finished. Those are agents I'd met through nefarious means. (Actually, I met one at Bread Loaf, and the other is the daughter of a family friend). Those two constitute all of my professional agent contacts. So starting either tomorrow (if I have time; I'm packing for a weekend in Austin for the Texas Book Festival) or next week, I will begin sending out cold queries. That is, letters and sample pages to agents I've never met, and have no connection to.
Decent-case scenario: any kind of response at all. Good-case scenario: a rejection with some feeback or suggestions on making the book better. Excellent-case scenario: you are fabulous; sign on the dotted line.
Wish me luck.
Tuesday
Other Places
After I've left the other cities I've lived in, there have been things I missed. From Miami, I miss the Cuban coffee, the sushi, these little fried balls of meat and potatos I can't remember the name of, and the ocean. I miss the water there, feeling like you're at the edge of the world (or at least the U.S.) and hearing so many different foreign languages as you walk around. I miss feeling like part of the majority.
When I think of Chicago, I miss the Jumping Bean, the cool manhole covers in Pilsen, working at the Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum, and this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that has some freakin' amazing chilaquiles. This morning I was seriously craving those chilaquiles with green sauce. I miss Lincoln Square, the huge park by our last apartment, and riding the el. I miss so many good restauarants you never ran out of choices. I miss friends.
When Nate and I went back to Guanajuato in August, I realized that I'd had several dreams of the Jardin (the central plaza in town; the place in the picture that's just past the steeple with all the trees). I know I've dreamt of walking under those trees. While we were in Guanajuato, I stopped at Truco 7, an old cafe I used to go to all the time. In January, it will be 11 years since I lived in Guanajuato as a student. Sitting in the cafe was interesting because I used to go their all the time to write letters, write in my journal, and try to write, period. It was while I lived there that I admitted to myself I wanted to write fiction. So it was interesting going back ten years later, having finished an MFA degree, having freelance writing and editing assignments, and having recently completed a draft (#5, I think) of my first novel. It felt like coming full circle in a way. Maybe also because I was with my husband and when I visited my old house mother, I was talking with her like another woman, not a student under her care. We talked a lot about family and children and she gave me some advice on being a mother. Her children have all left the house. They're all married and have babies of varying ages. Since I last saw her, I've lived in three different states, been published, finished a master's degree, gotten married. It definitely made me wonder ... what will be different for me in ten years?
After I've left the other cities I've lived in, there have been things I missed. From Miami, I miss the Cuban coffee, the sushi, these little fried balls of meat and potatos I can't remember the name of, and the ocean. I miss the water there, feeling like you're at the edge of the world (or at least the U.S.) and hearing so many different foreign languages as you walk around. I miss feeling like part of the majority.
When I think of Chicago, I miss the Jumping Bean, the cool manhole covers in Pilsen, working at the Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum, and this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that has some freakin' amazing chilaquiles. This morning I was seriously craving those chilaquiles with green sauce. I miss Lincoln Square, the huge park by our last apartment, and riding the el. I miss so many good restauarants you never ran out of choices. I miss friends.
When Nate and I went back to Guanajuato in August, I realized that I'd had several dreams of the Jardin (the central plaza in town; the place in the picture that's just past the steeple with all the trees). I know I've dreamt of walking under those trees. While we were in Guanajuato, I stopped at Truco 7, an old cafe I used to go to all the time. In January, it will be 11 years since I lived in Guanajuato as a student. Sitting in the cafe was interesting because I used to go their all the time to write letters, write in my journal, and try to write, period. It was while I lived there that I admitted to myself I wanted to write fiction. So it was interesting going back ten years later, having finished an MFA degree, having freelance writing and editing assignments, and having recently completed a draft (#5, I think) of my first novel. It felt like coming full circle in a way. Maybe also because I was with my husband and when I visited my old house mother, I was talking with her like another woman, not a student under her care. We talked a lot about family and children and she gave me some advice on being a mother. Her children have all left the house. They're all married and have babies of varying ages. Since I last saw her, I've lived in three different states, been published, finished a master's degree, gotten married. It definitely made me wonder ... what will be different for me in ten years?
Thursday
Changes
More changes in the Stullover household. I mentioned the paint job that's finished in the front room. This weekend, it looks like we're measuring for drapes. I had planned on buying a couch or chairs for that room in November, but now it looks like that might have to wait. Because we bought a car.
Nate's been driving a ten- or eleven-year old Buick for at least the past six years, since before we started dating. It was our only car in Chicago (when we put less than 3,000 miles on it a year) and after we moved back to Dallas, we eventually got a second car. Dallas is a two-car kind of town, unfortunately. Nate's also been working at home for the past two years, so not having a snazzy, dazzy car wasn't a big deal because he hardly drove anywhere. But this past year, we've had to put quite a bit of money into the Buick. It broke down in August as Nate was driving home from the store with a trunk full of groceries. After several hundred dollars of car repair, it stopped running again on Monday. So we said fugget. Nate is now the driver of a new Honda Element, which is pretty exciting. It's the first new car he's ever bought.
In book news, I think the last thing I wrote about was letting people read the book and incorporating their feedback. I finished that draft. I think it took about two-three weeks. Then as I was doing a find and replace for OK (replacing all oks with OKs), I hit save. What I didn't realize was that a bunch of words were affected. So my manuscript now looks like, toOK, jOKe, shoOK, you get the idea. GAH! What can I say, it was late. So I've been going through and correcting my dumb mistake. I have about 200 pages left to read, the changes to input, and then that puppy is going out! I have a list of about ten agents who are going to be my first gauntlet. I'll wait a week or two and send out the next ten queries. So wish me luck. I hope to be finished with inputing the corrections by the end of the weekend. For those counting at home, I am now on draft #7.
More changes in the Stullover household. I mentioned the paint job that's finished in the front room. This weekend, it looks like we're measuring for drapes. I had planned on buying a couch or chairs for that room in November, but now it looks like that might have to wait. Because we bought a car.
Nate's been driving a ten- or eleven-year old Buick for at least the past six years, since before we started dating. It was our only car in Chicago (when we put less than 3,000 miles on it a year) and after we moved back to Dallas, we eventually got a second car. Dallas is a two-car kind of town, unfortunately. Nate's also been working at home for the past two years, so not having a snazzy, dazzy car wasn't a big deal because he hardly drove anywhere. But this past year, we've had to put quite a bit of money into the Buick. It broke down in August as Nate was driving home from the store with a trunk full of groceries. After several hundred dollars of car repair, it stopped running again on Monday. So we said fugget. Nate is now the driver of a new Honda Element, which is pretty exciting. It's the first new car he's ever bought.
In book news, I think the last thing I wrote about was letting people read the book and incorporating their feedback. I finished that draft. I think it took about two-three weeks. Then as I was doing a find and replace for OK (replacing all oks with OKs), I hit save. What I didn't realize was that a bunch of words were affected. So my manuscript now looks like, toOK, jOKe, shoOK, you get the idea. GAH! What can I say, it was late. So I've been going through and correcting my dumb mistake. I have about 200 pages left to read, the changes to input, and then that puppy is going out! I have a list of about ten agents who are going to be my first gauntlet. I'll wait a week or two and send out the next ten queries. So wish me luck. I hope to be finished with inputing the corrections by the end of the weekend. For those counting at home, I am now on draft #7.
Speech Police
How do you make sure everyone agrees with you? Have them arrested if they don't. A man gets arrested for criticizing Cheney.
Tuesday
Just Curious
How in the hell do people afford to live in Austin? I now make considerably more money than when I lived there, but even at my current salary I don't think I could afford it. When I look at real estate listings online, I regularly see houses that are smaller than our current house but cost $400 or $500K. I don't know how Austinites do it. I guess maybe they move to Kyle or Round Rock.
How in the hell do people afford to live in Austin? I now make considerably more money than when I lived there, but even at my current salary I don't think I could afford it. When I look at real estate listings online, I regularly see houses that are smaller than our current house but cost $400 or $500K. I don't know how Austinites do it. I guess maybe they move to Kyle or Round Rock.
Friday
Sneaking a Peak
I love to see what writers' desks and artists' studios look like. This site indulges my "let me look" inclination. Seeing where someone creates is like peaking into their minds.
I love to see what writers' desks and artists' studios look like. This site indulges my "let me look" inclination. Seeing where someone creates is like peaking into their minds.
Tuesday
Belated
Nate had a birthday two days ago. So far we've celebrated quietly. We went to breakfast in the morning and later to a pub and played pool. Then we played darts and Scrabble. He hasn't decided if he wants a party and I gave him a choice as far as gifts. I think he picked one last night, though he wanted to sleep on it, so we'll see if that's his Final Answer. Whether we have a little celebration or not, Happy Birthday, Nate my Mate. I know this year is going to be a good one.
In house news, our front room is painted. Looks less pimp than I feared. We bought new light fixtures. Now we need to find two comfy chairs, a rug, a rolltop desk, and possibly a piano. You know, little things. One at a time, I guess ...
Nate had a birthday two days ago. So far we've celebrated quietly. We went to breakfast in the morning and later to a pub and played pool. Then we played darts and Scrabble. He hasn't decided if he wants a party and I gave him a choice as far as gifts. I think he picked one last night, though he wanted to sleep on it, so we'll see if that's his Final Answer. Whether we have a little celebration or not, Happy Birthday, Nate my Mate. I know this year is going to be a good one.
In house news, our front room is painted. Looks less pimp than I feared. We bought new light fixtures. Now we need to find two comfy chairs, a rug, a rolltop desk, and possibly a piano. You know, little things. One at a time, I guess ...
Thursday
Geeking Out
My husband is a sci-fi geek. Recently, I realized he's trying to geek me out now. He's asked me to watch X-Men, Generations, the Battlestar Galactica miniseries and now the TV show, and he recommended the first two Rama books by Arthur C. Clarke. I've read or watched them all, so maybe he's having some success in his mission.
We were at a party a couple of weeks ago when Battlestar Galactica came up. One man was talking about how attractive everyone is on that show, in particular, Starbuck. I agree there's a lot of eye candy. But my eye/interest is not drawn to the most physically attractive men on the show. Instead, I find myself completely fascinated by Commander Adama (Edward James Olmos). He's got a lot of charisma.
Somehow that reminds me of an interview I read with Salma Hayek. When she was not as famous, she was auditioning for a movie set in space. She didn't get the role because the producer said, "there are no Mexicans in space!"
My husband is a sci-fi geek. Recently, I realized he's trying to geek me out now. He's asked me to watch X-Men, Generations, the Battlestar Galactica miniseries and now the TV show, and he recommended the first two Rama books by Arthur C. Clarke. I've read or watched them all, so maybe he's having some success in his mission.
We were at a party a couple of weeks ago when Battlestar Galactica came up. One man was talking about how attractive everyone is on that show, in particular, Starbuck. I agree there's a lot of eye candy. But my eye/interest is not drawn to the most physically attractive men on the show. Instead, I find myself completely fascinated by Commander Adama (Edward James Olmos). He's got a lot of charisma.
Somehow that reminds me of an interview I read with Salma Hayek. When she was not as famous, she was auditioning for a movie set in space. She didn't get the role because the producer said, "there are no Mexicans in space!"
Tuesday
So Busy
Well, there's a lot to talk about but my mind isn't focusing very well at the moment. There's just too much going on. I have gotten two new regular copyediting gigs. One is shorter, more regular assignments (so far, so good), the other is editing books for a university press (one job so far, but they were very happy with the work I did, including the author). I've also gotten a couple of writing jobs. So I've been busy with the extra work, but in a good way. I hope that continues.
In book news, a few kind readers have read my book and I'm trying to incorporate some of their ideas and suggestions. I agree with some, and am having a hard time with others. Having a hard time because some of the ideas are very large in scope which mean big changes. For instance, getting rid of one character entirely. First, I'm not sure I agree (but are my feelings about that character getting in the way?), and second, holy shit that's a lot of work. So I'm doing the changes I agree with and thinking about some of the others.
Sometimes I think I would like a professional opinion (as in agent or editor) on some of these ideas. Because as I read my friends' suggestions, I realized that they sounded a lot like the debate you hear about pretty much any book. One of my friends loved one character and wanted to see a lot more of her. Another reader found that character particularly annoying and thought her chapters were enough, no more. Some want more of this, or less of that. But I have heard a lot of comments on the structure, as in it is sometimes confusing. So that might totally have to change. I don't know. Should I start sending the book out and see what kind of response I get? Maybe some of the agents might have similar ideas as the readers and that would help me decide what to do? Maybe they'll just reject me outright. I think I'm going to make the changes that feel right and take my chances with the submissions.
Still running. Not making much headway in the training, but I'm maintaining, which is maybe the best I can do right now.
In other news, Nate is at jury duty this week. His co-workers are moving into their new office this week as well, but he'll have to wait until the trial is over to really settle into his new digs.
Also, we're getting the front room painted. Man is it nice to have someone else paint instead of working on it ourselves, for a change. We picked a red for the dining area and what we thought was sort of a tan for the entry way. There's a lot more gold to the tan that we realized. We'll see how it looks once a couple of coats are up, but right now I'm thinking it looks a little pimp. We'll see how that all turns out.
Well, there's a lot to talk about but my mind isn't focusing very well at the moment. There's just too much going on. I have gotten two new regular copyediting gigs. One is shorter, more regular assignments (so far, so good), the other is editing books for a university press (one job so far, but they were very happy with the work I did, including the author). I've also gotten a couple of writing jobs. So I've been busy with the extra work, but in a good way. I hope that continues.
In book news, a few kind readers have read my book and I'm trying to incorporate some of their ideas and suggestions. I agree with some, and am having a hard time with others. Having a hard time because some of the ideas are very large in scope which mean big changes. For instance, getting rid of one character entirely. First, I'm not sure I agree (but are my feelings about that character getting in the way?), and second, holy shit that's a lot of work. So I'm doing the changes I agree with and thinking about some of the others.
Sometimes I think I would like a professional opinion (as in agent or editor) on some of these ideas. Because as I read my friends' suggestions, I realized that they sounded a lot like the debate you hear about pretty much any book. One of my friends loved one character and wanted to see a lot more of her. Another reader found that character particularly annoying and thought her chapters were enough, no more. Some want more of this, or less of that. But I have heard a lot of comments on the structure, as in it is sometimes confusing. So that might totally have to change. I don't know. Should I start sending the book out and see what kind of response I get? Maybe some of the agents might have similar ideas as the readers and that would help me decide what to do? Maybe they'll just reject me outright. I think I'm going to make the changes that feel right and take my chances with the submissions.
Still running. Not making much headway in the training, but I'm maintaining, which is maybe the best I can do right now.
In other news, Nate is at jury duty this week. His co-workers are moving into their new office this week as well, but he'll have to wait until the trial is over to really settle into his new digs.
Also, we're getting the front room painted. Man is it nice to have someone else paint instead of working on it ourselves, for a change. We picked a red for the dining area and what we thought was sort of a tan for the entry way. There's a lot more gold to the tan that we realized. We'll see how it looks once a couple of coats are up, but right now I'm thinking it looks a little pimp. We'll see how that all turns out.
Thursday
Tired
We're back and trying to readjust to life. Mostly things were going ok until my body seemed to suddenly reject caffeine. The last couple of days when I've had coffee or coke, my tummy has been tied up in knots. So I'm trying to get my life in order and also work on a couple of freelance things, all without the benefit of caffeine. The horror!
I'll write more about the trip later. Right now I'll say: it was beautiful, wonderful, grand, etc. You can see some pictures here. We did end up skipping Real de Catorce because it would have been about 12 hours of traveling for a day or a day and a half in the town. So, next time hopefully.
We're back and trying to readjust to life. Mostly things were going ok until my body seemed to suddenly reject caffeine. The last couple of days when I've had coffee or coke, my tummy has been tied up in knots. So I'm trying to get my life in order and also work on a couple of freelance things, all without the benefit of caffeine. The horror!
I'll write more about the trip later. Right now I'll say: it was beautiful, wonderful, grand, etc. You can see some pictures here. We did end up skipping Real de Catorce because it would have been about 12 hours of traveling for a day or a day and a half in the town. So, next time hopefully.
Friday
Taking a few days
to rest, relax, recover. The plan is Zacatecas, Real de Catorce, and Guanajuato, though we have no set agenda in any of the cities. We'll go where the path takes us.
to rest, relax, recover. The plan is Zacatecas, Real de Catorce, and Guanajuato, though we have no set agenda in any of the cities. We'll go where the path takes us.
Wednesday
A Dutchover in the News
"LAS VEGAS, Nevada (CNN) -- A paper license tag, a salad and stories that didn't make sense pricked the suspicions of a state trooper who stopped the car of a wanted fugitive polygamist in Las Vegas.
But it was the pumping carotid artery in the neck of Warren Steed Jeffs that convinced Nevada Highway Patrolman Eddie Dutchover that he had cornered someone big."
The rest of the story is here, including a link to a video that includes an interview with trooper Dutchover.
"LAS VEGAS, Nevada (CNN) -- A paper license tag, a salad and stories that didn't make sense pricked the suspicions of a state trooper who stopped the car of a wanted fugitive polygamist in Las Vegas.
But it was the pumping carotid artery in the neck of Warren Steed Jeffs that convinced Nevada Highway Patrolman Eddie Dutchover that he had cornered someone big."
The rest of the story is here, including a link to a video that includes an interview with trooper Dutchover.
One of the things I've grown to like about Texas
is also, paradoxically, one of the things that used to drive me crazy. I remember flying back to Texas for a funeral, and standing at the car rental counter at the airport where the clerk insisted on making friendly small talk to me and my puffy, teary eyes. He just kept talking and talking and asking me questions (picture that guy in the beer commercial, "Well, how are ewe? I'm fine. My brother in law picked me up from the airport ..."), seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was about to burst into tears at any moment. All I could think was: Just give me the damn car keys! But then he asked, "What are you here for?" And I said, "A funeral," and he was blessedly quiet ... for a few seconds.
All that friendly chatter used to drive me a little batty. Now I find it endearing. There's another thing I now find sweet (seriously, I just said "sweet") that used to bug me. A lot of people use these friendly endearments. For instance, last night at a local pub the bartender said, "Can I get you another one, darlin'?" (And not in a creepy way.) Today at lunch I was paying for a sandwich with a credit card, and I asked the cashier if she needed me to sign the slip. "Oh no, baby," she said and touched my hand like I was doing her a huge favor by asking. So ... there you go. I've come full circle. What used to bug me, now makes me smile. I wonder what's next ...
Thursday
Funny Animals
Last night I felt like taking a bath. My legs have been sore from running and despite the 100-plus heat outside, a warm bath seemed like the thing to do. And I wanted to relax while I finished reading The Hummingbird's Daughter (which I enjoyed a ton). An explanatory note: Nate and I each have an office in our house. The two bedrooms are connected by a bathroom, which is called a Jack and Jill set-up, I believe. I left both bathroom doors open because it is hot, I was taking a very hot bath, and I was sweating and wanted a bit of a breeze from the ceiling fans in the two bedrooms. As I read, I had the distinct feeling someone was staring at me. I looked up and saw that both Roscoe (our cat) and Walker (our husky/shepherd) had positioned themselves in such a way that they were comfortably sprawled on the floor in Nate's office. Both of them were staring at me. They didn't come over for petting or anything. They were content to relax and keep an eye on me. And I thought: of course it's the boys who are staring. Our other dog, Sophie, was sprawled in the hallway, content to give me privacy.
Last night I felt like taking a bath. My legs have been sore from running and despite the 100-plus heat outside, a warm bath seemed like the thing to do. And I wanted to relax while I finished reading The Hummingbird's Daughter (which I enjoyed a ton). An explanatory note: Nate and I each have an office in our house. The two bedrooms are connected by a bathroom, which is called a Jack and Jill set-up, I believe. I left both bathroom doors open because it is hot, I was taking a very hot bath, and I was sweating and wanted a bit of a breeze from the ceiling fans in the two bedrooms. As I read, I had the distinct feeling someone was staring at me. I looked up and saw that both Roscoe (our cat) and Walker (our husky/shepherd) had positioned themselves in such a way that they were comfortably sprawled on the floor in Nate's office. Both of them were staring at me. They didn't come over for petting or anything. They were content to relax and keep an eye on me. And I thought: of course it's the boys who are staring. Our other dog, Sophie, was sprawled in the hallway, content to give me privacy.
Tuesday
A few random things
Last February, I realized I had reached my highest weight ever, 32.5 pounds heavier than what I consider my ideal weight. Since then, I’ve lost about 17 pounds. I’m not eating very well, which I hope to improve, but I’m running a fair amount. (And by not eating well I mean burgers, pizza, beer, and fast-food breakfast sandwiches.) This week, yoga starts again at work (a free program for staff) and I’m thinking of adding some weight training to the mix, mainly because I think I need to be stronger. If I didn’t lose any more weight, I’d be OK with that, but I’d like to feel stronger and more fit and maybe throw some veggies and fruits into my mix of junk food.
A side effect of my training is that my wedding and engagement rings have started feeling really loose. Yesterday morning, I sat down at my desk at work and noticed that my wedding ring was gone. I panicked. I reached for my cell phone to ask Nate to look for it at home, hoping that maybe I had taken it off at the sink and just forgotten, and as I grabbed my purse to look for my car keys, I saw my ring sitting at the bottom of my purse. I think that when I parked my car that morning and threw my keys into my bag, my ring slipped off and I didn’t even notice. I was very lucky. It’s just a material thing, but I really do love my wedding ring. So now I’m wondering if I should get the rings resized or possibly get one of those rubber thingamaboabs that you can put on the inside of a ring to make it a smaller size. The really weird thing is, I think I was about five pounds lighter than I currently am now when we bought the ring, so I’m not sure why it’s so loose. Maybe it’s all the running making my fingers skinny? Just my luck that my belly is stubborn but my fingers long to be slim.
My hubby is gone for a few days for work. That means I’ll be very busy at home with the three pets and various household chores. I’m also hoping to get a lot of work done on the book. I’m almost done with another draft (goal is to finish by the time Nate gets home). As I’ve been working on this latest draft, I’ve found myself really struggling. I’m so tired of reading this damn book. I think that might be a sign I’m close to finished. Especially because I’ve noticed I’m putting things back in that I’ve taken out in earlier drafts.
In anticipation that I might be done soon, I ordered a little treat for myself. A
Lamy AL Star Fountain Pen. So I feel I’m almost done, but how do you know these things for sure? One of my friends, a short story writer, has finished reading it. She’s in Montreal right now and we plan on chatting Thursday. I guess we’ll see if she has any really big questions or critiques that need resolving. Then maybe I’ll have a better sense of how close I am to the finish line.
In vacation news, I think we’ve decided on starting in Zacatecas, then traveling to Guanajuato, and ending the trip in Real de Catorce. Should be fun, but we have to find some dog and house sitters.
Last February, I realized I had reached my highest weight ever, 32.5 pounds heavier than what I consider my ideal weight. Since then, I’ve lost about 17 pounds. I’m not eating very well, which I hope to improve, but I’m running a fair amount. (And by not eating well I mean burgers, pizza, beer, and fast-food breakfast sandwiches.) This week, yoga starts again at work (a free program for staff) and I’m thinking of adding some weight training to the mix, mainly because I think I need to be stronger. If I didn’t lose any more weight, I’d be OK with that, but I’d like to feel stronger and more fit and maybe throw some veggies and fruits into my mix of junk food.
A side effect of my training is that my wedding and engagement rings have started feeling really loose. Yesterday morning, I sat down at my desk at work and noticed that my wedding ring was gone. I panicked. I reached for my cell phone to ask Nate to look for it at home, hoping that maybe I had taken it off at the sink and just forgotten, and as I grabbed my purse to look for my car keys, I saw my ring sitting at the bottom of my purse. I think that when I parked my car that morning and threw my keys into my bag, my ring slipped off and I didn’t even notice. I was very lucky. It’s just a material thing, but I really do love my wedding ring. So now I’m wondering if I should get the rings resized or possibly get one of those rubber thingamaboabs that you can put on the inside of a ring to make it a smaller size. The really weird thing is, I think I was about five pounds lighter than I currently am now when we bought the ring, so I’m not sure why it’s so loose. Maybe it’s all the running making my fingers skinny? Just my luck that my belly is stubborn but my fingers long to be slim.
My hubby is gone for a few days for work. That means I’ll be very busy at home with the three pets and various household chores. I’m also hoping to get a lot of work done on the book. I’m almost done with another draft (goal is to finish by the time Nate gets home). As I’ve been working on this latest draft, I’ve found myself really struggling. I’m so tired of reading this damn book. I think that might be a sign I’m close to finished. Especially because I’ve noticed I’m putting things back in that I’ve taken out in earlier drafts.
In anticipation that I might be done soon, I ordered a little treat for myself. A
Lamy AL Star Fountain Pen. So I feel I’m almost done, but how do you know these things for sure? One of my friends, a short story writer, has finished reading it. She’s in Montreal right now and we plan on chatting Thursday. I guess we’ll see if she has any really big questions or critiques that need resolving. Then maybe I’ll have a better sense of how close I am to the finish line.
In vacation news, I think we’ve decided on starting in Zacatecas, then traveling to Guanajuato, and ending the trip in Real de Catorce. Should be fun, but we have to find some dog and house sitters.
Friday
Research
Now that Nate and I have seemingly decided on Mexico for our vacation, I have been doing some research. I've found all sorts of great blogs and forums with useful info (none of this existed ten years ago when I went to school in Mexico, back in the dark ages when you downloaded your email onto a floppy). I ran across the Mex Files blog somehow or other and found this very funny story:
"I was given permission by 'rich,' who posts regularly on the Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree Mexico Message Board to reprint this true -- and perhaps cautionary -- tale.
...many years ago in Mazatlan when I was just starting to learn the language (I was)walking from the bus station to where I was staying (a couple of miles) and having not eaten on the bus trip, I decided to enter a little corner shop and buy a snack.
In front of me at the cash register was an older guy speaking English with a strong Canadian accent buying a few items which he dropped on the counter and roughly ask 'How much is this stuff?' The Mexican running the store shrugged his shoulders and replied No entiendo. to which the customer using gringo logic responded by speaking louder and slower 'How much is it?' Again the Mexican responded No se, no entiendo.
This continued a bit more an finally the Canadian grabbed a bunch of Pesos out of his pocket and slammed them down on the counter half yelling 'Okay!' The Mexican looked at the money and said Okay. The guy grabbed his stuff and left.
At this point I was a bit worried but with what at that time was a very rudimentary and poorly pronounced Spanish I put my stuff down and asked ¿Cuanto cuesta esto? The Mexican looked at my stuff, looked at me and in better English than I can speak responded 'Don't worry about it, that guy paid for it.' indicating the customer who had just left."
Now that Nate and I have seemingly decided on Mexico for our vacation, I have been doing some research. I've found all sorts of great blogs and forums with useful info (none of this existed ten years ago when I went to school in Mexico, back in the dark ages when you downloaded your email onto a floppy). I ran across the Mex Files blog somehow or other and found this very funny story:
"I was given permission by 'rich,' who posts regularly on the Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree Mexico Message Board to reprint this true -- and perhaps cautionary -- tale.
...many years ago in Mazatlan when I was just starting to learn the language (I was)walking from the bus station to where I was staying (a couple of miles) and having not eaten on the bus trip, I decided to enter a little corner shop and buy a snack.
In front of me at the cash register was an older guy speaking English with a strong Canadian accent buying a few items which he dropped on the counter and roughly ask 'How much is this stuff?' The Mexican running the store shrugged his shoulders and replied No entiendo. to which the customer using gringo logic responded by speaking louder and slower 'How much is it?' Again the Mexican responded No se, no entiendo.
This continued a bit more an finally the Canadian grabbed a bunch of Pesos out of his pocket and slammed them down on the counter half yelling 'Okay!' The Mexican looked at the money and said Okay. The guy grabbed his stuff and left.
At this point I was a bit worried but with what at that time was a very rudimentary and poorly pronounced Spanish I put my stuff down and asked ¿Cuanto cuesta esto? The Mexican looked at my stuff, looked at me and in better English than I can speak responded 'Don't worry about it, that guy paid for it.' indicating the customer who had just left."
Tuesday
I have a new goal
I'm working on being less certain about things. Where does certainty get you, really?
What do I mean by this? I am all over the place lately. Some recent fantasies have included: opening a bookstore, opening a neighborhood taqueria/restaurant, opening a coffee shop, traveling to Washington State, the East Coast, or Mexico. I'm also daydreaming about starting an informal, monthly reading series (never mind that I know very few writers in the DFW). My mind is going in a million different directions at once, and if it's tiring for me, I can only imagine what it must be like for Nate.
But, but. I have a feeling my racing mind will calm down soon.
In other news:
We're up to five miles in the marathon training. This weekend I need to run 5.5 at some point.
I finally visited the Velvet Hookah this past weekend.
A friend is reading my tarot cards on Thursday over tacos and wine.
And earlier today, I asked a co-worker something work-related. She gave me an answer and I meant to IM, "thanks, your ladyship." Only I accidentally typed "thanks, your ladyshit" and hit send. Uh, yeah. Hopefully my week will get better.
I'm working on being less certain about things. Where does certainty get you, really?
What do I mean by this? I am all over the place lately. Some recent fantasies have included: opening a bookstore, opening a neighborhood taqueria/restaurant, opening a coffee shop, traveling to Washington State, the East Coast, or Mexico. I'm also daydreaming about starting an informal, monthly reading series (never mind that I know very few writers in the DFW). My mind is going in a million different directions at once, and if it's tiring for me, I can only imagine what it must be like for Nate.
But, but. I have a feeling my racing mind will calm down soon.
In other news:
We're up to five miles in the marathon training. This weekend I need to run 5.5 at some point.
I finally visited the Velvet Hookah this past weekend.
A friend is reading my tarot cards on Thursday over tacos and wine.
And earlier today, I asked a co-worker something work-related. She gave me an answer and I meant to IM, "thanks, your ladyship." Only I accidentally typed "thanks, your ladyshit" and hit send. Uh, yeah. Hopefully my week will get better.
Monday
Viva Mexico
Nate and I have been trying to coordinate a vacation this summer. We had initially planned to go to New York but the family we were going to stay with had their own plans change. There was a cross-country move, a wedding, and a trip to Texas to factor in. And some typical life stuff thrown in for good measure. But ... I'm entering that point of really wanting to get out of town. My brain feels a little mushy and I can't focus.
As usual, I'm all over the place and suggested 20 different places where Nate and I could go. I think we've decided on Mexico. Back in '96, I studied at the University of Guanajuato. I think we might stop by there but also possibly visit a few other cities. It would be really fun to see my old house mother, so hopefully this trip will work out. We're coordinating details now.
Lord knows I'm all over the place these days. Maybe a break would do me some good and Nate will get a break from my 100-miles-a-minute ideas.
Nate and I have been trying to coordinate a vacation this summer. We had initially planned to go to New York but the family we were going to stay with had their own plans change. There was a cross-country move, a wedding, and a trip to Texas to factor in. And some typical life stuff thrown in for good measure. But ... I'm entering that point of really wanting to get out of town. My brain feels a little mushy and I can't focus.
As usual, I'm all over the place and suggested 20 different places where Nate and I could go. I think we've decided on Mexico. Back in '96, I studied at the University of Guanajuato. I think we might stop by there but also possibly visit a few other cities. It would be really fun to see my old house mother, so hopefully this trip will work out. We're coordinating details now.
Lord knows I'm all over the place these days. Maybe a break would do me some good and Nate will get a break from my 100-miles-a-minute ideas.
Thursday
Three years
Nate and I have been together five-and-a-half years and today, married for three. The time has passed so quickly. We've lived in two states and five apartments/houses (not counting the places we lived before we moved in together). I can't tell you how many jobs (too many to count while I was part-timing here and there during grad school).
When I think about marriages, I know ours is a good one. We don't argue often, we agree on the big things, and we have fun. But it's still hard. Marriage is trying to join two lives together. Sometimes this happens effortlessly. Sometimes there's more stopping and starting, not because anyone is "wrong" or "right," but because there are two individuals with different ideas about life or the situation at hand.
Sometimes I see people getting married and it's obvious they have very idealized ideas about marriage. They think (even if they don't admit it) that their problems are solved, that life will be easier, that they'll never be lonely again. Sometimes these things are true ... and sometimes they aren't.
I guess what I'm thinking (and this probably doesn't sound very romantic) is that three years doesn't sound like a very long time to be married (my parents have been married for 34, for example; our neighbor across the street recently lost his wife before their 60th anniversary), but those three years have been good. And they've been well-earned.
Nate and I have been together five-and-a-half years and today, married for three. The time has passed so quickly. We've lived in two states and five apartments/houses (not counting the places we lived before we moved in together). I can't tell you how many jobs (too many to count while I was part-timing here and there during grad school).
When I think about marriages, I know ours is a good one. We don't argue often, we agree on the big things, and we have fun. But it's still hard. Marriage is trying to join two lives together. Sometimes this happens effortlessly. Sometimes there's more stopping and starting, not because anyone is "wrong" or "right," but because there are two individuals with different ideas about life or the situation at hand.
Sometimes I see people getting married and it's obvious they have very idealized ideas about marriage. They think (even if they don't admit it) that their problems are solved, that life will be easier, that they'll never be lonely again. Sometimes these things are true ... and sometimes they aren't.
I guess what I'm thinking (and this probably doesn't sound very romantic) is that three years doesn't sound like a very long time to be married (my parents have been married for 34, for example; our neighbor across the street recently lost his wife before their 60th anniversary), but those three years have been good. And they've been well-earned.
Friday
Hilary Mantel's Method
Hilary Mantel describes how she works on a novel.
"• Become a magpie. Collect anything that attracts you: images, phrases, little glimpses, footnotes from books ... Cut them out if you can, record them on blank postcards, scribble them in a notebook.
• At some point you will discover some titbit that feels like the seed of a new novel. Tantalisingly, this will occur while you are in the middle of a completely different novel."
The rest is here.
Hilary Mantel describes how she works on a novel.
"• Become a magpie. Collect anything that attracts you: images, phrases, little glimpses, footnotes from books ... Cut them out if you can, record them on blank postcards, scribble them in a notebook.
• At some point you will discover some titbit that feels like the seed of a new novel. Tantalisingly, this will occur while you are in the middle of a completely different novel."
The rest is here.
An update on the author photo
My friend Katy thinks I should incorporate a smoking dog in my author photo, if possible.
Thursday
And you thought rejection was bad
Sometimes reviews are worse.
"Has M. Night Shyamalan lost his goddamn mind?
That's the only logical excuse for Lady in the Water, the Philly-based writer/director/egomaniac's convulsive seizure of narcissism that's so nakedly personal—and also so unintentionally, hilariously revealing—watching the movie feels a bit like walking in on your roommate while he's masturbating … to a picture of himself."
Ouch.
In related news, Kevin Smith confronts Joel Siegel, a critic who walked out of a screening of Clerks II.
Sometimes reviews are worse.
"Has M. Night Shyamalan lost his goddamn mind?
That's the only logical excuse for Lady in the Water, the Philly-based writer/director/egomaniac's convulsive seizure of narcissism that's so nakedly personal—and also so unintentionally, hilariously revealing—watching the movie feels a bit like walking in on your roommate while he's masturbating … to a picture of himself."
Ouch.
In related news, Kevin Smith confronts Joel Siegel, a critic who walked out of a screening of Clerks II.
Wednesday
A little book nerd humor
Note: I'm calling myself the book nerd. I found this author photo breakdown amusing. One of my favorites? "I hate to break it to Ellroy, but the chair-peeing dog is definitely dominating this photo."
Also, "Miss Anne looks like she's doing that yoga pose. What's it called again? Eagle. At any rate, it's miles better than that one of her slouching on a file cabinet, looking all scoliosised."
If I'm ever lucky enough to have an author photo of my own, I would like to do a combination of this and this. Reclining with a cigar. Maybe throw a dog in there somewhere. Just because I think it would be funny.
Note: I'm calling myself the book nerd. I found this author photo breakdown amusing. One of my favorites? "I hate to break it to Ellroy, but the chair-peeing dog is definitely dominating this photo."
Also, "Miss Anne looks like she's doing that yoga pose. What's it called again? Eagle. At any rate, it's miles better than that one of her slouching on a file cabinet, looking all scoliosised."
If I'm ever lucky enough to have an author photo of my own, I would like to do a combination of this and this. Reclining with a cigar. Maybe throw a dog in there somewhere. Just because I think it would be funny.
Tuesday
The Living Dead
I read this quote today:
"That I had hidden it for the eternity of my death in a Jewish place, a tomb I held sacred, the vast, fathomless tomb off-limits to traitors, those living dead of the fundamental betrayal."
It's an excerpt from Yann Andrea Steiner.
I don't know what Marguerite Duras means by "a Jewish place." I'm curious about that phrase because I can only guess at her meaning. As I was reading the excerpt, a phrase stuck with me, the "living dead of the fundamental betrayal." And to be honest, I feel foolish about writing this at all because some of the things Duras is writing about include the Holocaust, murder, and the cruelty of men and women. What I'm talking is miniscule compared to that. But I'll put it down anyway because that's what writing does. One person's writing, a phrase or an image, can make you think about your life or an idea, and influence or inspire you in a different direction. And even though what I'm talking about is not on the same level, it's what came to mind when I read the "living dead of the fundamental betrayal."
I tend to cut off people from my past, people I feel have betrayed me in some way. Maybe they cheated or lied or failed me in some fundamental way at a time when I really needed them. There have been various reasons. One of these old friends called me in the middle of the night once when I was in college. True to fashion, I was up late finishing a paper that was due the next day. I kept telling him I couldn't talk right at that moment because I had to finish this assignment. It was due early the next morning and I swore I'd call him back. I think we ended up hashing things out that night.
Essentially, he was angry with me because I'd ended our friendship after several erratic and scary interactions we'd had while he was on drugs. He was my boyfriend-at-the-time's friend and had hit on me. He had lashed out at me a few times. He had paced outside my window one night doing whippets and muttering strange things when I was alone at home. He had an outburst in a grocery store that caused him and my boyfriend-at-the-time to be escorted out of the store by security. There was a long list of uncomfortable behavior.
I cut him off.
I told my boyfriend I was done with his friend. So the friend was angry and hurt (and no doubt on some pharmaceutical) when he called me at 3 in the morning demanding I explain what I was doing ending my friendship with him with no discussion. I can't remember what he said exactly, but he said I did this all the time. When someone disappointed me, I didn't give second chances. He listed examples. He said I wasn't a true friend if I couldn't overlook people's flaws and forgive them.
I thought he had some good points. Everything he said was true. But everything I said was true, too. I didn't like worrying every time I hung out with him, especially if we were in a public place, that he would have an outburst. I didn't appreciate being propositioned at random times or being groped. I didn't like being yelled at.
But I've been thinking about that conversation lately. Should I have tried to help him more? Should I have staged an intervention? Should I have called his parents and told them about his out of control drug use? Should I have been a friend to him despite his increasingly erratic behavior?
It's true I don't give many second chances. I've been trying to figure out why this is. I'm curious about my own motivations. Is it to protect myself? Is it a lack of patience (I think this might have a lot to do with it; I'm impatient about a lot of things)? I think there could be many different reasons, and often are specific to the friendship or situation. But I've been wondering about the "living dead" from my own past lately.
I was chatting with my friend Katy today about this. For me, a serious hurt or betrayal sort of "flips a switch." After the event, I feel differently about the person and I can't go back. I've been thinking about this a lot because I married someone who isn't that way at all. Much more forgiving, much more willing to give second chances, and, generally speaking, a much kinder person.
Maybe that's why we married each other?
I read this quote today:
"That I had hidden it for the eternity of my death in a Jewish place, a tomb I held sacred, the vast, fathomless tomb off-limits to traitors, those living dead of the fundamental betrayal."
It's an excerpt from Yann Andrea Steiner.
I don't know what Marguerite Duras means by "a Jewish place." I'm curious about that phrase because I can only guess at her meaning. As I was reading the excerpt, a phrase stuck with me, the "living dead of the fundamental betrayal." And to be honest, I feel foolish about writing this at all because some of the things Duras is writing about include the Holocaust, murder, and the cruelty of men and women. What I'm talking is miniscule compared to that. But I'll put it down anyway because that's what writing does. One person's writing, a phrase or an image, can make you think about your life or an idea, and influence or inspire you in a different direction. And even though what I'm talking about is not on the same level, it's what came to mind when I read the "living dead of the fundamental betrayal."
I tend to cut off people from my past, people I feel have betrayed me in some way. Maybe they cheated or lied or failed me in some fundamental way at a time when I really needed them. There have been various reasons. One of these old friends called me in the middle of the night once when I was in college. True to fashion, I was up late finishing a paper that was due the next day. I kept telling him I couldn't talk right at that moment because I had to finish this assignment. It was due early the next morning and I swore I'd call him back. I think we ended up hashing things out that night.
Essentially, he was angry with me because I'd ended our friendship after several erratic and scary interactions we'd had while he was on drugs. He was my boyfriend-at-the-time's friend and had hit on me. He had lashed out at me a few times. He had paced outside my window one night doing whippets and muttering strange things when I was alone at home. He had an outburst in a grocery store that caused him and my boyfriend-at-the-time to be escorted out of the store by security. There was a long list of uncomfortable behavior.
I cut him off.
I told my boyfriend I was done with his friend. So the friend was angry and hurt (and no doubt on some pharmaceutical) when he called me at 3 in the morning demanding I explain what I was doing ending my friendship with him with no discussion. I can't remember what he said exactly, but he said I did this all the time. When someone disappointed me, I didn't give second chances. He listed examples. He said I wasn't a true friend if I couldn't overlook people's flaws and forgive them.
I thought he had some good points. Everything he said was true. But everything I said was true, too. I didn't like worrying every time I hung out with him, especially if we were in a public place, that he would have an outburst. I didn't appreciate being propositioned at random times or being groped. I didn't like being yelled at.
But I've been thinking about that conversation lately. Should I have tried to help him more? Should I have staged an intervention? Should I have called his parents and told them about his out of control drug use? Should I have been a friend to him despite his increasingly erratic behavior?
It's true I don't give many second chances. I've been trying to figure out why this is. I'm curious about my own motivations. Is it to protect myself? Is it a lack of patience (I think this might have a lot to do with it; I'm impatient about a lot of things)? I think there could be many different reasons, and often are specific to the friendship or situation. But I've been wondering about the "living dead" from my own past lately.
I was chatting with my friend Katy today about this. For me, a serious hurt or betrayal sort of "flips a switch." After the event, I feel differently about the person and I can't go back. I've been thinking about this a lot because I married someone who isn't that way at all. Much more forgiving, much more willing to give second chances, and, generally speaking, a much kinder person.
Maybe that's why we married each other?
Friday
Chef Stuck in Beruit
Last spring I read Kitchen Confidential by chef Anthony Bourdain. According to the New York Post, the chef was in Beruit shooting a segment for his Travel Channel series. Now he's stuck there after the Israelis bombed the international (civilian) airport. He says, "They're bombing right now in southern Beirut. I can hear the explosions. The thing is, the people here are really, really nice and totally embarrassed by Hezbollah and horrified by the bombings."
The rest is at the Post.
Last spring I read Kitchen Confidential by chef Anthony Bourdain. According to the New York Post, the chef was in Beruit shooting a segment for his Travel Channel series. Now he's stuck there after the Israelis bombed the international (civilian) airport. He says, "They're bombing right now in southern Beirut. I can hear the explosions. The thing is, the people here are really, really nice and totally embarrassed by Hezbollah and horrified by the bombings."
The rest is at the Post.
Eerie
I've been reading a book called Almanac of the Dead by Leslie Marmon Silko. The book was published in 1991 and I think it took her ten years to write, so it would have been written somewhere between 1980 and 1990. It's eerie how many things she writes about are still so applicable today. Tensions in the Mideast, Aids, mass migrations, bloodshed in Africa, U.S.-Mexico border tensions, race riots, etc. Eerie, or it shows how little changes in the world.
Thursday
Inside Gaza
"Most Gazans also believe that Israel's latest assault was pre-planned, that the soldier's capture is merely a trigger. Israel dropped thousands of shells on Gaza, killing women, children and old people, long before his capture. This time, Israel attacked Gaza within hours of a national consensus accord signed by Fatah and Hamas, which could have led to negotiations between Palestinians and Israelis. That would have pushed Israel to give up control of Palestinian land and resources. Gazans believe that the goal of Israel's military campaign is the destruction of both our elected government and our infrastructure, and with it our will to secure our national rights."
You can read some more of Mona El-Farra's thoughts here.
I've been trying to read what others think about conflicts like these. I don't want to hear the perspectives of only the U.S. and our allies. The whole situation is desperately sad.
"Most Gazans also believe that Israel's latest assault was pre-planned, that the soldier's capture is merely a trigger. Israel dropped thousands of shells on Gaza, killing women, children and old people, long before his capture. This time, Israel attacked Gaza within hours of a national consensus accord signed by Fatah and Hamas, which could have led to negotiations between Palestinians and Israelis. That would have pushed Israel to give up control of Palestinian land and resources. Gazans believe that the goal of Israel's military campaign is the destruction of both our elected government and our infrastructure, and with it our will to secure our national rights."
You can read some more of Mona El-Farra's thoughts here.
I've been trying to read what others think about conflicts like these. I don't want to hear the perspectives of only the U.S. and our allies. The whole situation is desperately sad.
Friday
Dreams
I had an interesting dream this morning, just before my alarm went off. I had a long, catch-up conversation with two old friends I've known since elementary school but haven't seen in more than ten years. I told them I had married, one of them said he was married, the other said he was married and divorced. In my dream, I think he said, "I was married for about half an hour." Also, one of them had just gotten out of the hospital after a surgery. So odd, when you dream of people you haven't seen or thought of in years, especially when you wake up and truly feel as though you just had an in-depth conversation with them. Made me wonder where they are in the world and how things are going for them.
I had an interesting dream this morning, just before my alarm went off. I had a long, catch-up conversation with two old friends I've known since elementary school but haven't seen in more than ten years. I told them I had married, one of them said he was married, the other said he was married and divorced. In my dream, I think he said, "I was married for about half an hour." Also, one of them had just gotten out of the hospital after a surgery. So odd, when you dream of people you haven't seen or thought of in years, especially when you wake up and truly feel as though you just had an in-depth conversation with them. Made me wonder where they are in the world and how things are going for them.
Thursday
Great Description of the Writing Life
Dagoberto Gilb says:
"Writing is a permanent flu — it hits you, you have no control of it. Its symptoms are: Light-headed, feverish daydreaming about writing while at a paying job that you get fired from; gut-wrenching dread of having a worthless, unemployable life while writing one paragraph in two hours for a piece that you may (or may not if it's lousy, which it often is), after you have lots and lots and lots of paragraphs, a hundred or two dollars; finally, and even worse, a hallucinogenic-like bloodrush when something you have written is accepted — this delusional exhilaration can affect personality for many troubled years, even when the only other person to have read it and believed in you and this work, momentarily, was your one and only love (not even your mom will have been impressed), the one you shouldn't have let get away, but she now dismisses you because you're such a financial loser."
The rest of the interview is here.
Here is my situation. We are extremely busy at work. Summer is one of our crunch times. At night, I'm trying to work on a time-consuming and challenging freelance assignment that's due sometime in the next two weeks. (The deadline is "mid-July," and a non-definite deadline is awful for a procrastinator like me.) And the novel is in an interesting phase. Revised enough to be readable by outsiders and a few of my friends have read it. I've been told it reads like "a real book." I've had a few good tweaking suggestions, as well as some typos that eagle-eyed friends have caught. All in all, I'd say I have about two-three days of work to get it to the next stage, which is sending it out. And that's where my problem lies.
Until after "mid-July," I do not have the two or three days I would need to finish. Mentally, I know this is fine. What's a couple of weeks after years of writing? But not working on the book is bugging the righteous holy hell out of me. I am in a weird "what am I doing with my life" mood which always happens if I haven't been writing enough or working on my own projects. I get crabby, cranky, restless. I'm listening to Leonard Cohen, if that gives you insight into the funk I'm describing. And I love me some Leonard Cohen, but I keep reminding myself: jus be patient. Because as soon as I'm done with the freelance gig, I can turn the gas on with my own stuff. Unless, of course, I procrastinate, which I have been known to do.
The most hilarious aspect of this situation is that the agent who has expressed interest in my book is getting married in late July. Then she's going on her honeymoon. So realistically, it would be foolish to send it to her before mid-to-late August anyway. Yet, I continue to torture myself. I think writing is the like the flu. Or perhaps like mooning after your long-lost love, the one you must continue to follow and stalk, long after you have humiliated yourself, long after there's no hope, and long after anyone with any kind of sense would have said "just give it a rest already."
The Dark Side?
I still haven't fully recovered from our trip to Austin. I spent the weekend talking (a lot), drinking, and eating too much yummy food. On the Sunday drive home, I felt bloated and a little sick. Over the past few months, Nate and I have made an effort to eat healthier, which we usually do. So indulging was fun at first and then felt kind of gross.
One of my attempts to be healthier also has involved cutting out coffee. For the past three months or so, I've been drinking black tea in the mornings. If you know me very well, you realize what a huge statement that is. I LOOOOOOVE coffee. So much that I really do have a hard time drinking it moderately. I mean, I used to drink 8-10 cups a day. But Austin lured me back to the java and I’ve been drinking coffee in the mornings almost every day since the trip. This morning, I found a note on the coffee maker. Nate had written, “Welcome back to the dark side.” Gah! Must. Fight. The. Coffee. (But I’m having a cup now, petting my mug and whispering, "Oh, I missed you. My precioussssss.")
Austin was good. I always love seeing how old friends are doing, hearing about their lives. There have been some changes. At my dinner party, there were three children and one on the way. Also, some new loves and one friend who is applying for top security clearance with the government. (“I put you down on my list of references. Don’t be surprised if the FBI contacts you,” he said. “Everone else has come home from work and found a guy on the porch waiting for them.”)
Nate and I found some awesome jewelry by Robin Albachten while we were shopping on SoCo (I can never say “SoCo" without thinking how silly it is, especially since I remember South Congress as the place where you used to be able to solicit a prostitute and go to the XXX theater). I found some gifts for our nieces and a cool bag for my sis-in-law at Parts and Labor (where you can find a ton of cool, locally designed clothes, purses, and jewelry). Outside, Robin had a booth and I stopped to look at her jewelry because it was so striking. She has different kinds of pieces, but one of the things she does is find old, vintage glass and then recasts them in new jewelry. I found a cool ring that I bought for myself as a birthday present, and admired a necklace. But I convinced myself not to buy both, since I had already spent quite a bit of cheddar and I was still shopping for other people. I saw Nate sort of bite his lip and walk away. While I was in the next store, Nate went back and bought the necklace. What a sneak! (But a generous one.)
I did manage to get one run in while we were in Austin. On Saturday morning, I dragged myself out of bed and ran in the rain. The rain kept most of the crowds away; I saw only a few others out there. I was soon soaked, but I love running on dirt and crushed granite trails. I got all muddy, which is always fun, and I loved seeing the rain hit the river and hearing the water in the trees overhead. It’s those moments that make me miss Austin.
But Dallas is good. Even if the Mavericks break your heart. Even if the Arcadia burns down.
Update: Some pictures of the fire.
A few random thoughts
The Red Bull Burger at the Cock & Bull should be renamed the Crack Burger. Smoked gouda, roasted red bell peppers, and chipotle mayo. I ate that burger two days ago and I'm still thinking about it.
A sign your novel might be too long ... when you make two copies of it, and the copier starts smelling like it's burning.
Nate bought me a bike for my birthday. It has a bell! He also bought me a pretty bracelet from Italy that apparently involved complicated exchange rates and such. My birthday isn't until Monday, but he has a hard time not giving me presents early. I do not try to help him with this.
We had our first ride around White Rock Lake (me on my new bike!) on Sunday with Katy and Doc. Nine miles. I hadn't been on a bike in a long time. It was fun. There are strange swamp/humid pockets around the lake, which I found interesting.
Deadwood is back on!
I'm having two parties for my birthday, one in Austin and one in Dallas. Even though I haven't lived in Austin for four years, that party is going to be larger.
In Austin, we're staying with a friend, a bachelor friend. In the past I've had to ask him to stock toilet paper and clean towels before a visit. Today he called and asked Nate what kind of wine I like. I feel like our friendship has leveled up. Or, we are getting old. Or maybe he thinks if he gets me tipsy enough, I won't care if there's no TP.
In Austin, we're meeting up with my old boss from Chicago, from the Mexican Fine Arts Center. He is going to be at my party, along with his new lady love. Austin and Chicago: two worlds collide! Who will emerge victorious?
My birthday is on Monday, Juneteenth. I will begin celebrating tomorrow. I see a Curra's avocado margarita in my future ....
Monday
Crazy cats
I noticed this story on Yahoo today, about a cat who treed a bear. The thing that jumped out at me was the fact that the cat is an orange tabby.
When we got Roscoe, our orange tabby, we noticed a few things about him. He is unusually vocal (Aka, he complains about every damn thing and appears to talk back if you speak with him or ask him a question.); he hunts like serial killer; he fights all the time; survived an attack from a pit bull while he was still a kitten (with Nate's help, but still); attacks our 55- and 75-pound dogs regularly, including hiding behind shrubbery or furniture and jumping out at them; he SPRAYS his territory, even though he was fixed when he was a kitten; if you call him, he runs to the door like one of the dogs; there's more, but I think you get the idea. Someone told us that (orange) tabbies are known for being exceptionally aggressive and vocal. Not sure if this is true, but when I read the story about the treed bear and the orange tabby, I thought. Yep. That sounds about right. Another one of them crazy tabbies. Roscoe weighs about 13 pounds, by the way.
I noticed this story on Yahoo today, about a cat who treed a bear. The thing that jumped out at me was the fact that the cat is an orange tabby.
When we got Roscoe, our orange tabby, we noticed a few things about him. He is unusually vocal (Aka, he complains about every damn thing and appears to talk back if you speak with him or ask him a question.); he hunts like serial killer; he fights all the time; survived an attack from a pit bull while he was still a kitten (with Nate's help, but still); attacks our 55- and 75-pound dogs regularly, including hiding behind shrubbery or furniture and jumping out at them; he SPRAYS his territory, even though he was fixed when he was a kitten; if you call him, he runs to the door like one of the dogs; there's more, but I think you get the idea. Someone told us that (orange) tabbies are known for being exceptionally aggressive and vocal. Not sure if this is true, but when I read the story about the treed bear and the orange tabby, I thought. Yep. That sounds about right. Another one of them crazy tabbies. Roscoe weighs about 13 pounds, by the way.
Thursday
Congrats
* An old friend (of both mine and Nate's) has a new book out on Playa del Carmen.
* Carrie Iverson, a student from the first MFA writing class at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), is featured in the Chicago Tribune. She has a new exhibit called "Wake" in Brooklyn.
* Three profs from SAIC are listed in the "Lit 50" in New City magazine. James McManus, Rosellen Brown, and Carol Anshaw. Rosellen and Carol were my advisers during my time in the MFA program. They both helped me turn a bunch of scraps of writing into a novel.
* An old friend (of both mine and Nate's) has a new book out on Playa del Carmen.
* Carrie Iverson, a student from the first MFA writing class at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), is featured in the Chicago Tribune. She has a new exhibit called "Wake" in Brooklyn.
* Three profs from SAIC are listed in the "Lit 50" in New City magazine. James McManus, Rosellen Brown, and Carol Anshaw. Rosellen and Carol were my advisers during my time in the MFA program. They both helped me turn a bunch of scraps of writing into a novel.
Friday
Two sites to get lost in
Carter's American Junk. Carter hunts for "junk" at flea markets. Make sure you check out her Junker's Journal.
Path to Freedom, a site chronicling and an urban homesteading project. Make sure to look at some of their recent pictures.
Carter's American Junk. Carter hunts for "junk" at flea markets. Make sure you check out her Junker's Journal.
Path to Freedom, a site chronicling and an urban homesteading project. Make sure to look at some of their recent pictures.
Wednesday
Some Thoughts on Plagiarism
After some of the recent scandals involving the "p" word, I've had a disquieting feeling. Obviously, when someone steals your words and gives you no credit, that's one thing. But what about inspiration? Responding to other writers and books? Isn't that what's been going on for centuries?
So here are few things I've stumbled across that reveal some subtleties about the issue. They don't say, "plagiarism is bad," and leave it at that.
>>>
"Early in my attempts at fiction, I was paired with a Generous Writer at a conference and had submitted, among other things, a little two-pager thing that included a paragraph describing a mom driving in the evening with two young boys in the back seat. They hit a swarm of lightning bugs. Bugs smeared under the wipers and the windshield glowed and everyone gasped, of course. I'd been inspired by a similar thing with a single lightning bug one evening.
The Generous Writer explained patiently that a lot of writers had used lightning bugs. I nodded and took note.
Some of you, at this point, may know where this is going."
The rest is here.
>>>
"Stories don't belong to anyone. Only in America–and England, I guess—do we suffer the anxiety of influence and sue each other for traces of one story in another. Hello?! This is the way stories work."
The rest of the interview with Julia Alvarez is here.
>>>
"Then I got a copy of the script for 'Frozen.' I found it breathtaking. I realize that this isn't supposed to be a relevant consideration. And yet it was: instead of feeling that my words had been taken from me, I felt that they had become part of some grander cause."
The rest of Malcolm Gladwell's "Something Borrowed" is here.
After some of the recent scandals involving the "p" word, I've had a disquieting feeling. Obviously, when someone steals your words and gives you no credit, that's one thing. But what about inspiration? Responding to other writers and books? Isn't that what's been going on for centuries?
So here are few things I've stumbled across that reveal some subtleties about the issue. They don't say, "plagiarism is bad," and leave it at that.
>>>
"Early in my attempts at fiction, I was paired with a Generous Writer at a conference and had submitted, among other things, a little two-pager thing that included a paragraph describing a mom driving in the evening with two young boys in the back seat. They hit a swarm of lightning bugs. Bugs smeared under the wipers and the windshield glowed and everyone gasped, of course. I'd been inspired by a similar thing with a single lightning bug one evening.
The Generous Writer explained patiently that a lot of writers had used lightning bugs. I nodded and took note.
Some of you, at this point, may know where this is going."
The rest is here.
>>>
"Stories don't belong to anyone. Only in America–and England, I guess—do we suffer the anxiety of influence and sue each other for traces of one story in another. Hello?! This is the way stories work."
The rest of the interview with Julia Alvarez is here.
>>>
"Then I got a copy of the script for 'Frozen.' I found it breathtaking. I realize that this isn't supposed to be a relevant consideration. And yet it was: instead of feeling that my words had been taken from me, I felt that they had become part of some grander cause."
The rest of Malcolm Gladwell's "Something Borrowed" is here.
Monday
Catch-up Entry
1.
We've been working in the yard, though we probably need to do more. I need to weed, for example. But in the past couple of months, we've cleared and planted two new beds and sodded about half of the back yard. What remains: sodding the second half of the back yard, clearing and planting three additional beds (one in the back and two in the side yard), and regular maintenance. Our front yard is rockin'. We killed a bunch of stuff last year because we'd never had a yard or garden before and didn't really know what we were doing. This year, most plants seem to be thriving. A gardening tip: water. I know it's basic, but shows you how little we knew a year ago!
2.
I expect to be doing a fair amount of traveling and hosting this summer. Within the next month or so, two weekend trips (one to Brazoria county and one to Austin to meet an old friend from Chicago), and my birthday. I'm thinking sangria party, but that's still open for suggestions. In July both Nate and I might have to travel for work. In August, we plan on going to New York.
3.
Babies. Lots of babies. My boss returns from maternity leave this week. Nate's boss is currently on family leave to welcome a recent addition. And two different couples/friends of ours have recently told us they are pregnant. Another couple is actively trying.
4.
Running is going well. Working on having three miles as my base. Out of the past six runs, four were three miles and two were two miles. So, I'm getting there.
5.
Recently seen and enjoyed Murderball, a spelling bee documentary, An Evening with Kevin Smith, and a friend's 5-minute video that had to be conceived and completed within 24 hours.
6.
I'm officially Texan again. The other day I was talking about a work project with a colleague and said, "I'm fixing to ..." This means "cain't" isn't far behind.
7.
I love lists, but they're probably boring to read so I'll stop now.
8.
Well, ok, one more. An interesting (and saddening) story about the decline of the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center in San Antonio.
9.
This one is for the ladies. Ladies, meet Chad White.
1.
We've been working in the yard, though we probably need to do more. I need to weed, for example. But in the past couple of months, we've cleared and planted two new beds and sodded about half of the back yard. What remains: sodding the second half of the back yard, clearing and planting three additional beds (one in the back and two in the side yard), and regular maintenance. Our front yard is rockin'. We killed a bunch of stuff last year because we'd never had a yard or garden before and didn't really know what we were doing. This year, most plants seem to be thriving. A gardening tip: water. I know it's basic, but shows you how little we knew a year ago!
2.
I expect to be doing a fair amount of traveling and hosting this summer. Within the next month or so, two weekend trips (one to Brazoria county and one to Austin to meet an old friend from Chicago), and my birthday. I'm thinking sangria party, but that's still open for suggestions. In July both Nate and I might have to travel for work. In August, we plan on going to New York.
3.
Babies. Lots of babies. My boss returns from maternity leave this week. Nate's boss is currently on family leave to welcome a recent addition. And two different couples/friends of ours have recently told us they are pregnant. Another couple is actively trying.
4.
Running is going well. Working on having three miles as my base. Out of the past six runs, four were three miles and two were two miles. So, I'm getting there.
5.
Recently seen and enjoyed Murderball, a spelling bee documentary, An Evening with Kevin Smith, and a friend's 5-minute video that had to be conceived and completed within 24 hours.
6.
I'm officially Texan again. The other day I was talking about a work project with a colleague and said, "I'm fixing to ..." This means "cain't" isn't far behind.
7.
I love lists, but they're probably boring to read so I'll stop now.
8.
Well, ok, one more. An interesting (and saddening) story about the decline of the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center in San Antonio.
9.
This one is for the ladies. Ladies, meet Chad White.
Thursday
The First Time
Katy and I ran together on Tuesday after work. It was a yellow ozone day, which I think might have affected her breathing, and really hot and humid to boot. Today seems like it will be a lot better. Cooler, with a nice breeze. It's always interesting when you know someone in one context, like work, and then see them in others. You get a different layer of the onion when you see a different side of someone. I'm thinking of friends, too.
You know your friends or family in a social setting, usually. But what are they like at work? Are they take charge? Divas? Slackers?
Exercise is interesting because you see how people react to things like pain and discomfort. Also, how will they react if you're not feeling well and they have the upper hand?
Example: I ran with a group a few years ago. Our runs were at 7 a.m. on Sunday mornings. One Saturday night, Nate invited me to go play pool. We were just friends at the time, but starting to flirt. I drank three beers that night and knew I would regret it the next day. Around 7:15 a.m., I told my friends I felt dehydrated and exhausted and I never should have gone out the night before. "Oh really?" they said, and started running faster. Bastards. But it probably helped me sweat out the beer.
Katy and I ran together on Tuesday after work. It was a yellow ozone day, which I think might have affected her breathing, and really hot and humid to boot. Today seems like it will be a lot better. Cooler, with a nice breeze. It's always interesting when you know someone in one context, like work, and then see them in others. You get a different layer of the onion when you see a different side of someone. I'm thinking of friends, too.
You know your friends or family in a social setting, usually. But what are they like at work? Are they take charge? Divas? Slackers?
Exercise is interesting because you see how people react to things like pain and discomfort. Also, how will they react if you're not feeling well and they have the upper hand?
Example: I ran with a group a few years ago. Our runs were at 7 a.m. on Sunday mornings. One Saturday night, Nate invited me to go play pool. We were just friends at the time, but starting to flirt. I drank three beers that night and knew I would regret it the next day. Around 7:15 a.m., I told my friends I felt dehydrated and exhausted and I never should have gone out the night before. "Oh really?" they said, and started running faster. Bastards. But it probably helped me sweat out the beer.
Tuesday
Runnin'
I used to hate running. I played sports growing up and that meant running. Miss a free throw? Run a lap. Have an attitude? Run a lap. Show up late to practice? You get the idea. To me, running = punishment. Sometime in college, that changed. I had a couple of friends who jogged and I started joining them. The summer after I graduated from college, I ran regularly, until my daily run was up to three miles.
A year or so later, I started dating someone who was really into running. His regular run was more like 7-8 miles, and it inspired me to up my game. I worked at a publishing company at the time and there were a lot of joggers in the office. and Five of us decided to run a marathon relay together. I don't remember what the distance breakdowns were, exactly, but I ran the final and longest relay, which was 8 miles. It was the longest distance I'd run to that point.
A couple of years later, I decided to run a marathon. For no good reason. I joined a running group and had fun with my fellow masochists, I got into really good shape, and I also managed to mess up my knee and ankle. But I finished in my time range and that was good enough for me. (4 hours, 24 minutes or something like that. I was hoping to finish under 4:30.)
My knee and ankle have given me problems ever since, sadly. But I've more or less tried to keep running, even though there are long periods of not doing anything in between. Recently, a friend and I decided to try to split a marathon and each run half of the White Rock race in December. Again, for no good reason.
Will my crotchety old knees make it? I hope so. Because a half-marathon is my favorite distance to run. Today Katy and I plan on running together for the first time. Wish us luck.
I used to hate running. I played sports growing up and that meant running. Miss a free throw? Run a lap. Have an attitude? Run a lap. Show up late to practice? You get the idea. To me, running = punishment. Sometime in college, that changed. I had a couple of friends who jogged and I started joining them. The summer after I graduated from college, I ran regularly, until my daily run was up to three miles.
A year or so later, I started dating someone who was really into running. His regular run was more like 7-8 miles, and it inspired me to up my game. I worked at a publishing company at the time and there were a lot of joggers in the office. and Five of us decided to run a marathon relay together. I don't remember what the distance breakdowns were, exactly, but I ran the final and longest relay, which was 8 miles. It was the longest distance I'd run to that point.
A couple of years later, I decided to run a marathon. For no good reason. I joined a running group and had fun with my fellow masochists, I got into really good shape, and I also managed to mess up my knee and ankle. But I finished in my time range and that was good enough for me. (4 hours, 24 minutes or something like that. I was hoping to finish under 4:30.)
My knee and ankle have given me problems ever since, sadly. But I've more or less tried to keep running, even though there are long periods of not doing anything in between. Recently, a friend and I decided to try to split a marathon and each run half of the White Rock race in December. Again, for no good reason.
Will my crotchety old knees make it? I hope so. Because a half-marathon is my favorite distance to run. Today Katy and I plan on running together for the first time. Wish us luck.
Wednesday
What good is a fence?
"Here's a fact you don't hear much about: Between a third and a half of the nation's illegal immigrants — at least 3.8 million people — entered the USA legally. That's right. They didn't slip across the border in the dead of night. They came from all over the world, stayed longer than their visas or entry documents allowed, and melted into society."
...
"Fixes for the nation's out-of-control immigration problem aren't easy in any case, but they'll prove useless as long as those who write the laws respond solely to stereotypes. A fence in the backyard isn't the solution if as many as half of the illegal immigrants are walking in through the front door."
Read the whole editorial here.
"Here's a fact you don't hear much about: Between a third and a half of the nation's illegal immigrants — at least 3.8 million people — entered the USA legally. That's right. They didn't slip across the border in the dead of night. They came from all over the world, stayed longer than their visas or entry documents allowed, and melted into society."
...
"Fixes for the nation's out-of-control immigration problem aren't easy in any case, but they'll prove useless as long as those who write the laws respond solely to stereotypes. A fence in the backyard isn't the solution if as many as half of the illegal immigrants are walking in through the front door."
Read the whole editorial here.
Thursday
Tuesday
Literary Ghetto
I read all kinds of fiction. I read works by authors who are white, African-American, Latino, Russian, Spanish, French, whatever and whoever. I really like to read stories about people who are not like me. That is one of the great things about fiction--getting a glimpse into the lives of other people, situations, and periods in time.
One thing writers who are not white or male complain about is that you can be put into a ghetto based on your gender and/or race. If you are African American, your book may be put in that section in a bookstore, even if you have written a mainstream novel. If you're at a book festival, you will be put on a panel with others of your race, gender, and/or sexual orientation to talk about Women in fiction, Latino/a fiction, African-American fiction, Lesbian fiction, whatever. The complaint being that there are no White Straight Male novelist panels or sections because that is more or less considered "the given" in books.
For instance, I was at a book festival in 2004 where 4 or 5 writers were on a panel called "The Feminine Touch." Their books were not at all similar, not even in the same genre, but they had been grouped together because they were all women. At one point, the panelists complained about the name of their panel (which they had not chosen) and stated that they preferred to be thought of as writers, not "women writers," or whatever. And for just a moment, I'd like you to imagine a panel composed of writers who have nothing in common except their gender called "The Masculine Touch." All this is leading up to the following.
Today I read about an author who is African American and says her publisher told her they would not publish her book unless she changed race of the characters (who are white) to African American. I'm not surprised, somehow. Sad, but not surprised.
Note: it appears the post has been deleted. Not sure what that means. But here are some other takes on the issue. Lee Goldberg's site is where I saw this mention originally.
Note 2: Another thought I had after writing this entry. I was in a writing workshop with someone who was writing characters of a different race in her novel. I felt very uncomfortable with this for a few reasons. One, she was using quotes from songs and other sources in a different language that she could not read or understand, and two, some of these "ethnic" characters did not feel authentic to me for a variety of reasons. Dialogue, mannerisms, etc. I just didn't buy it. She and I had a somewhat heated discussion about this that we later seemed to come to terms with and I think that the benefit of time has helped me clarify my thoughts.
I think that writers (and artists of any kind) have the right to create work about anything and anyone. I don't think you have to be white to write white characters or African American to have African-American characters. However, I also think you have to earn the right to tell certain stories.
For instance, a character in my story served a tour in Vietnam. I decided very early on that this was important to his character and shaped the man he later became; however, I was very aware that this war and time in history shaped a generation and certainly the people who served there. I did not feel Vietnam was my story to tell; I didn't think I could create an authentic scene about it. For that reason, Vietnam is only referred to a couple of times in the book, and is never the focus of a scene.
That's not to say I think you have to have served in Vietnam to write about it. But if you are going to write about something like Vietnam or the Holocaust or some other equally charged subject, I think you as an artist have the obligation to do very serious research and know that you can create an authentic work. There are some subjects and situations that are so complex and sensitive, I think you owe it to the subject to ask yourself: why do I think this is my story to tell? And if you don't have a good answer for that, why are you writing the book? That applies to any creative work, I suppose, not just sensitive or charged ones.
I read all kinds of fiction. I read works by authors who are white, African-American, Latino, Russian, Spanish, French, whatever and whoever. I really like to read stories about people who are not like me. That is one of the great things about fiction--getting a glimpse into the lives of other people, situations, and periods in time.
One thing writers who are not white or male complain about is that you can be put into a ghetto based on your gender and/or race. If you are African American, your book may be put in that section in a bookstore, even if you have written a mainstream novel. If you're at a book festival, you will be put on a panel with others of your race, gender, and/or sexual orientation to talk about Women in fiction, Latino/a fiction, African-American fiction, Lesbian fiction, whatever. The complaint being that there are no White Straight Male novelist panels or sections because that is more or less considered "the given" in books.
For instance, I was at a book festival in 2004 where 4 or 5 writers were on a panel called "The Feminine Touch." Their books were not at all similar, not even in the same genre, but they had been grouped together because they were all women. At one point, the panelists complained about the name of their panel (which they had not chosen) and stated that they preferred to be thought of as writers, not "women writers," or whatever. And for just a moment, I'd like you to imagine a panel composed of writers who have nothing in common except their gender called "The Masculine Touch." All this is leading up to the following.
Today I read about an author who is African American and says her publisher told her they would not publish her book unless she changed race of the characters (who are white) to African American. I'm not surprised, somehow. Sad, but not surprised.
Note: it appears the post has been deleted. Not sure what that means. But here are some other takes on the issue. Lee Goldberg's site is where I saw this mention originally.
Note 2: Another thought I had after writing this entry. I was in a writing workshop with someone who was writing characters of a different race in her novel. I felt very uncomfortable with this for a few reasons. One, she was using quotes from songs and other sources in a different language that she could not read or understand, and two, some of these "ethnic" characters did not feel authentic to me for a variety of reasons. Dialogue, mannerisms, etc. I just didn't buy it. She and I had a somewhat heated discussion about this that we later seemed to come to terms with and I think that the benefit of time has helped me clarify my thoughts.
I think that writers (and artists of any kind) have the right to create work about anything and anyone. I don't think you have to be white to write white characters or African American to have African-American characters. However, I also think you have to earn the right to tell certain stories.
For instance, a character in my story served a tour in Vietnam. I decided very early on that this was important to his character and shaped the man he later became; however, I was very aware that this war and time in history shaped a generation and certainly the people who served there. I did not feel Vietnam was my story to tell; I didn't think I could create an authentic scene about it. For that reason, Vietnam is only referred to a couple of times in the book, and is never the focus of a scene.
That's not to say I think you have to have served in Vietnam to write about it. But if you are going to write about something like Vietnam or the Holocaust or some other equally charged subject, I think you as an artist have the obligation to do very serious research and know that you can create an authentic work. There are some subjects and situations that are so complex and sensitive, I think you owe it to the subject to ask yourself: why do I think this is my story to tell? And if you don't have a good answer for that, why are you writing the book? That applies to any creative work, I suppose, not just sensitive or charged ones.
Thursday
Is there such a thing as a positive rejection?
I haven't submitted much fiction to literary journals. Mainly I've focused on trying to revise the novel. (I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but Nate and another friend are currently reading the first half to give me feedback. Soon I'll be giving them the second half. So far they've given me some really good suggestions.)
A couple of chapters in the novel seem to stand alone pretty well. However, they are chapters, not short stories, so there's a definite sense of ... well, what happens next? Which is naturally answered later in the novel.
This is a challenge when you're submitting to a publication that publishes short stories, which don't necessarily need to be tightly wrapped up at the end, but do, I think, need to have a sense of wholeness or completion in and of themselves.
Knowing this, I've submitted a chapter called "Pecado Mortal" to three publications. "Mortal" can mean mortal as in deadly or mortal as in Catholic and "pecado" is "sin," which is a play on words with what happens in this little old chapter.
I got form rejections from the two bigger pubs I submitted to, and I gave the chapter another look-see during my overall novel revisions. This is the rejection note I got from the third submission (names have been removed because I don't think that's important):
Dear Yvonne (if I may),
Many thanks for sending us “Pecado Mortal.” This is better than 90% of the work we see--clear, strong writing, vivid characters, nice pacing. And plenty of life experience here; you’ve got something to say, which also sets you apart from most. Ultimately, I felt the story just wasn’t strong enough for us (competition is fierce, so please don’t be discouraged), but it seems to me you’re on the right path. Good luck with this story elsewhere, and keep writing.
Best regards,
Editor
So, here's my question. Do you think there's such a thing as a good rejection? Just curious.
Wednesday
Forgot to Mention
I was interviewed a couple of weeks back about writing a book in Spanglish. It's a short interview. You're welcome to read it here. (It's in español.)
I was interviewed a couple of weeks back about writing a book in Spanglish. It's a short interview. You're welcome to read it here. (It's in español.)
Best Perspective on Proposed Border Legislation
“This is going to affect my family,” said junior Lorenzo Hernandez, 17. “They didn’t do anything but to come over here to work for $5 and $10 a day. They’re going to build a wall? But who’s going to build that wall?”
Who, indeed.
Read the rest here.
Thursday
Great Campain Slogan
This morning as I left home for work, I asked my husband, "Hey, do you want to meet at lunch to do the Kinky thing?"
He said, "We could do that right now."
What I was referring to was Kinky's campaign for signatures so he can get on the ballot for the upcoming governor's race. We went to Pandemonium to sign. In Dallas, you can go to these locations if you'd like to do the same.
Wednesday
Long time no see
I haven't written in several weeks and when I looked at the calendar, this all made sense to me. The past six weekends, we have either traveled or hosted guests. As you can imagine, I felt a little overwhelmed and tired. Also, my web host/server moved and my username changed but it took me a little while to figure that out.
Things have now resumed to "normal."
Recent news: our daffodils and azaleas are blooming. Also, a bush that Nate and I are trying to figure out the name of. I will try to post pictures later because they are lovely. Update: Nate says the bush is called plum delight.
Last week, I went to the AWP conference in Austin. These days I don't have a writing community or a group or anything so it was nice to be around writers again and to hear plenty of conversations about writing. However, it was also a reminder that many writers are full of shit (myself included, probably). Half the time I think, why are we talking so much? Why aren't we just writing? But the panels and readings were fun and I got to partcipate in writing talk, which I hadn't gotten to do in a while. That was nice, writing/conversation bullshit or not.
I also got to hang out with Joi, Kit, and Enzo and also the Cicada Oaks Stulls (shout out to my homies!). This was all good. I drank a little too much, congratulated one of my old undergrad profs who was getting a lifetime achievement award thingie (who remembered me despite the passing of many years), and visited the new Whole Foods in Austin. That place is awe-inspiring. Also, I saw Oscar Casares. He is one tall Mexican. And Walter Mosely and a few other people who, when I saw them, I wondered ... who is that? How do I know them? And then I realized I just recognized them from their book jacket photos.
I still miss Austin and after visiting I now understand why. I miss the nature, walking around, all the hippies, and my friends. But I also think I'm in Dallas for a reason, maybe to learn something, and the truth is I love our house and our 'hood.
Except ... we got toilet papered the night we came back to town. Part of me thinks this is just karmic retribution for all the similar things I did as a young hooligan. I did worse, actually, and as Nate and I were walking around our front yard surveying the damage, we both said, "amateurs." We know the technique, see, and these kids obviously were novices.
But. But. They stole our garden gnome who, despite costing a mere 99 cents (scored during an off-season sale), we both had an out-of-proportion attachment to. The fact that we were both so bummed out about a missing 99-cent gnome helped us come to a realization. We are no longer the people who steal garden gnomes. We are the people who BUY garden gnomes. Cheap garden gnomes, but still.
Also, we were thankful they hadn't crushed any of the six new plants we had just put into the ground mere hours before the perpetrators had their way with our trees. In a word, we are old. And that's ok. But we miss our gnome.
I hope they send us pictures.
I haven't written in several weeks and when I looked at the calendar, this all made sense to me. The past six weekends, we have either traveled or hosted guests. As you can imagine, I felt a little overwhelmed and tired. Also, my web host/server moved and my username changed but it took me a little while to figure that out.
Things have now resumed to "normal."
Recent news: our daffodils and azaleas are blooming. Also, a bush that Nate and I are trying to figure out the name of. I will try to post pictures later because they are lovely. Update: Nate says the bush is called plum delight.
Last week, I went to the AWP conference in Austin. These days I don't have a writing community or a group or anything so it was nice to be around writers again and to hear plenty of conversations about writing. However, it was also a reminder that many writers are full of shit (myself included, probably). Half the time I think, why are we talking so much? Why aren't we just writing? But the panels and readings were fun and I got to partcipate in writing talk, which I hadn't gotten to do in a while. That was nice, writing/conversation bullshit or not.
I also got to hang out with Joi, Kit, and Enzo and also the Cicada Oaks Stulls (shout out to my homies!). This was all good. I drank a little too much, congratulated one of my old undergrad profs who was getting a lifetime achievement award thingie (who remembered me despite the passing of many years), and visited the new Whole Foods in Austin. That place is awe-inspiring. Also, I saw Oscar Casares. He is one tall Mexican. And Walter Mosely and a few other people who, when I saw them, I wondered ... who is that? How do I know them? And then I realized I just recognized them from their book jacket photos.
I still miss Austin and after visiting I now understand why. I miss the nature, walking around, all the hippies, and my friends. But I also think I'm in Dallas for a reason, maybe to learn something, and the truth is I love our house and our 'hood.
Except ... we got toilet papered the night we came back to town. Part of me thinks this is just karmic retribution for all the similar things I did as a young hooligan. I did worse, actually, and as Nate and I were walking around our front yard surveying the damage, we both said, "amateurs." We know the technique, see, and these kids obviously were novices.
But. But. They stole our garden gnome who, despite costing a mere 99 cents (scored during an off-season sale), we both had an out-of-proportion attachment to. The fact that we were both so bummed out about a missing 99-cent gnome helped us come to a realization. We are no longer the people who steal garden gnomes. We are the people who BUY garden gnomes. Cheap garden gnomes, but still.
Also, we were thankful they hadn't crushed any of the six new plants we had just put into the ground mere hours before the perpetrators had their way with our trees. In a word, we are old. And that's ok. But we miss our gnome.
I hope they send us pictures.
Friday
Great Quote
This was in response to Dr. Sue's Friday column on Buzz, Balls, & Hype.
"Jozef Imrich commented, 'It is said that writers are people who, as children, did not receive sufficient rejection either from adults or peers and so are compelled to seek it relentlessly in later life.'”
This was in response to Dr. Sue's Friday column on Buzz, Balls, & Hype.
"Jozef Imrich commented, 'It is said that writers are people who, as children, did not receive sufficient rejection either from adults or peers and so are compelled to seek it relentlessly in later life.'”
Wednesday
Frey, fRey, freY
I haven't written about this Topic because I didn't read the Book. But a couple of my friends have now Asked me what I Think of Oprah, the lying, memoir vs. fiction, Etc.
I couldn't read The book because frey capitalizes random Words and it drove me absolutely Batshit. It kept reminding me that I was Reading a book. I like to Fall into the "reality" of a novel/memoir/What-have-You and if you do little Tics like Capitlaizing Totally random shit, it reminds me you are a writer and you're Using tricks. Also, his Style annoyed me, too. So as to whether it's wrong to Lie, I don't care if you Lie to me if it's a Good Story. However this story wasn't Good (in my Humble opinion), or perhaps it was just the Style that Bothered me.
I think I read Five pages.
Also, Whenever anyone says they're Trying to be original and Write things no one has Ever written before or in a Totally new style I usually think they are Full of shit because it is a Very rare writer who Is original. Also, if you Are original, do you have to Tell everyone you Are? Wouldn't everyone Know it? Kind of like Being cool. If you have to say you are, Maybe you aren't.
the End
I haven't written about this Topic because I didn't read the Book. But a couple of my friends have now Asked me what I Think of Oprah, the lying, memoir vs. fiction, Etc.
I couldn't read The book because frey capitalizes random Words and it drove me absolutely Batshit. It kept reminding me that I was Reading a book. I like to Fall into the "reality" of a novel/memoir/What-have-You and if you do little Tics like Capitlaizing Totally random shit, it reminds me you are a writer and you're Using tricks. Also, his Style annoyed me, too. So as to whether it's wrong to Lie, I don't care if you Lie to me if it's a Good Story. However this story wasn't Good (in my Humble opinion), or perhaps it was just the Style that Bothered me.
I think I read Five pages.
Also, Whenever anyone says they're Trying to be original and Write things no one has Ever written before or in a Totally new style I usually think they are Full of shit because it is a Very rare writer who Is original. Also, if you Are original, do you have to Tell everyone you Are? Wouldn't everyone Know it? Kind of like Being cool. If you have to say you are, Maybe you aren't.
the End
Tuesday
What I'm Reading
I've decided to keep track of my reading for a while. Just for fun.
January, 2006
All the Pretty Horses, Cormac McMarthy
Dialogue reminds me of Hemingway, all manly and terse and shit. Then he goes off into these very descriptive, long, flowing sentences. Interesting. Generally, I really like his writing tho the Mexican grandmother's dialogue seemed off to me. I think this is due to the fact that in the novel's reality, she would speak in Spanish. He's writing in English. So sometimes her words seem very formal, which I understand. Spanish can be both more formal and more ornate--even the language of so-called "uneducated" people--so this may be the reason it stuck out to me. Loved some of the descriptions of the night and the stars. In general, I like his work and found myself underlining or checking things I admired.
I first read this book back at UT for a Life and Literature of the Southwest class. Almost every year I try to read McCarthy's Blood Meridian but I can never get past page 50 or 60 because of all the blood and violence. A lot of people consider that his best (or one of his best) books. They also say, "Page 50 or 60? That's the beginning! It gets a lot more violent after that." Which is why I've never finished it.
Survivor in Death, J.D. Robb (Nora Roberts)
I've never read Nora Roberts' romances but I have read some of her "fill in the blank" in Death series. They're tight, fast reads, low on description and characterization. Good airplane reading. Also, for me, the kind of book I reach for when I want to read but don't want to think too hard. (Yes, I know how this sounds.) She's prolific as hell, too. My mother-in-law, who has read some of her romance novels, doesn't like this series. I think that's somewhat common, in that her romance readers probably don't cross over much to these futuristic cop dramas (? mysteries ? not sure what the actual genre is) and vice versa. I don't think I would read her romances, for instance.
Way of the Cheetah, Lynn Viehl (e-book)
A writing book, and like all writing books, offers up advice that could be helpful or not, depending on the writer. Fast paced (I know that sounds like a funny description of a writing book) but she doesn't include a lot of padding. At 72 pages, it's pretty lean. She suggests exercises and a few tips on How to Boost Your Productivity (her subhead), and she's in favor of becoming a better writer by producing more books (versus focusing on rewriting). She's written 32 books in five genres in six years. So if your goal is crafting careful sentences and being an arteest, you may disagree with her approach. Things I found helpful: using things you enjoy (surfing the internet, reading, watching porn--kidding! she doesn't mention porn tho I think that would be on the list for a lot of writers I've known, whatever works, right?) as carrots that you give yourself only after you've completed your daily goal. Smart. Also, using a timer (which creates that self-inflicted deadline a lot of writers need to produce).
Currently reading:
Jacob Have I Loved, Katherine Paterson
Are you picking up on anything yet? I read some odd books in tandem.
I've decided to keep track of my reading for a while. Just for fun.
January, 2006
All the Pretty Horses, Cormac McMarthy
Dialogue reminds me of Hemingway, all manly and terse and shit. Then he goes off into these very descriptive, long, flowing sentences. Interesting. Generally, I really like his writing tho the Mexican grandmother's dialogue seemed off to me. I think this is due to the fact that in the novel's reality, she would speak in Spanish. He's writing in English. So sometimes her words seem very formal, which I understand. Spanish can be both more formal and more ornate--even the language of so-called "uneducated" people--so this may be the reason it stuck out to me. Loved some of the descriptions of the night and the stars. In general, I like his work and found myself underlining or checking things I admired.
I first read this book back at UT for a Life and Literature of the Southwest class. Almost every year I try to read McCarthy's Blood Meridian but I can never get past page 50 or 60 because of all the blood and violence. A lot of people consider that his best (or one of his best) books. They also say, "Page 50 or 60? That's the beginning! It gets a lot more violent after that." Which is why I've never finished it.
Survivor in Death, J.D. Robb (Nora Roberts)
I've never read Nora Roberts' romances but I have read some of her "fill in the blank" in Death series. They're tight, fast reads, low on description and characterization. Good airplane reading. Also, for me, the kind of book I reach for when I want to read but don't want to think too hard. (Yes, I know how this sounds.) She's prolific as hell, too. My mother-in-law, who has read some of her romance novels, doesn't like this series. I think that's somewhat common, in that her romance readers probably don't cross over much to these futuristic cop dramas (? mysteries ? not sure what the actual genre is) and vice versa. I don't think I would read her romances, for instance.
Way of the Cheetah, Lynn Viehl (e-book)
A writing book, and like all writing books, offers up advice that could be helpful or not, depending on the writer. Fast paced (I know that sounds like a funny description of a writing book) but she doesn't include a lot of padding. At 72 pages, it's pretty lean. She suggests exercises and a few tips on How to Boost Your Productivity (her subhead), and she's in favor of becoming a better writer by producing more books (versus focusing on rewriting). She's written 32 books in five genres in six years. So if your goal is crafting careful sentences and being an arteest, you may disagree with her approach. Things I found helpful: using things you enjoy (surfing the internet, reading, watching porn--kidding! she doesn't mention porn tho I think that would be on the list for a lot of writers I've known, whatever works, right?) as carrots that you give yourself only after you've completed your daily goal. Smart. Also, using a timer (which creates that self-inflicted deadline a lot of writers need to produce).
Currently reading:
Jacob Have I Loved, Katherine Paterson
Are you picking up on anything yet? I read some odd books in tandem.