I was going to write a post about the books I like and expound on them, starting with the first book I read on my own without pictures, but something happened this AM, so that post will wait till later.
When I was 13, I spent a lot of time watching VH1. Now, today, this might make sense, as from what I can tell, VH1 is exactly like MTV, only it claims to be different. When I was 13, they were VASTLY different. MTV was aimed at teenagers, cool people, the "with it" people. They played music videos for radio stations that all the popular music played. Yes, when I was 13, MTV still played music videos. Not as often as I'd like, but they did. When I was 13, the whole "reality TV" show thing was just starting, with The Real World and Road Rules. (Aside: My all time favorite season of "Road Rules" was aired when I was 13/14. I don't remember much other than there was a guy with a guitar named Noah.)
VH1 played a hell of a lot more music videos and they played more music I liked, which was the soft rock, because even at 13, I was ancient at heart. I viewed soft rock as more of my modern tastes as well, due to the fact my heart at 13 was still stuck in the 1960s. The summer I was 13, while still obsessing about the Beatles, I discovered The Monkees, via VH1.
I guess programmers decided to capitalized on the still super popular Beatles revival and they began to run The Monkees TV show. I managed to catch the show playing during a two hour block and by the end of the two hour block, I was obsessed. I devoured all things Monkee. I planned my week/day/time around being on hand to watch the show and I felt like the world was ending if I missed one. To this day, I have no idea if I've seen the entire run of the show, but that summer, I obsessed. I bought CDs, listened to them on repeat (the only way I listen to music), and I ate up anything my parents had left over from when they were kids. I don't think my mom had anything to give me like she did when I went through my Beatles obsession (she had a biography from 1965/1964 that I carried EVERYWHERE with me to the point IT FELL APART). My dad gave me a magazine, though. On the Monkees. I'm pretty sure I read the thing cover to cover. Multiple times.
By the end of the summer I was 13, VH1 stopped running The Monkees. I also grew while I was in eighth grade. This was tragic to me for a very big reason: I was no longer five foot three.
Why did I want to be five foot three?
Davy Jones was five foot three. I did not want to be taller than Davy Jones, as he was my favorite Monkee. (Hey, he had the accent and even at 13, I was a sucker for an accent.)
Today, when I read via Facebook that Davy Jones had died, all I could think about was my sorrow when I found out I had grown an inch and was no longer five foot three. I remember thinking when walking out of a Stake 'N' Shake in O'Fallon, IL, I did not want to grow and being five foot three inches was perfect.
I grew two more inches before I finally stopped growing.
Today, I headed into the guest room and hunted out my Monkees CDs. I own two. At the time, the only CDs that were for sale were greatest hits sorts of CDs, not the ones the group released back in the 1960s. I've got two Greatest Hits CDs. And while I picked out Davy Jones as my favorite, my favorite songs are all sung by Micky Dolenz. Kind of like the fact I adore George Harrison, yet my favorite songs are all sung by Paul McCartney. Go figure, right? Just another screwy Ireland thing, more than likely.
I think my parents might have enjoyed the time I was obsessed with music from their childhoods, because as I hit 14 and worked my way into high school, I started to get with the times and I liked boy bands ('N Sync, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, etc.) and I played those CDs on repeat, loudly, to the point my own father knows every single song on Millennium. It got to the point that no one in the house could stand the 'N Sync Christmas CD, so they bought me the 98 Degrees one. (I'm sure they still all cringe if they hear 'N Sync at Christmas.)
I've now uploaded the Monkee CD that failed to be all ready in my iTunes library. While I work my way through A's rewrite, I'll listen to the Monkees, which if I'm honest, I haven't listened to in a long while. And I'll hit repeat and no one will care, as it doesn't seem to bother Basil. (Basil hates Bon Jovi and the Backstreet Boys. BSB actually makes her bark like a crying baby makes her bark. Odd, right?)
29 February 2012
28 February 2012
Hazards of Alaskan Living
Snow.
We've had snow on the ground since October.
We do not own a snow blower. We own a shovel. Actually, we don't own it. It came with the house. It's a very nice shovel. Except when you want to shovel. I hate it when I have to shovel.
Our driveway is a slight disaster for a wide array of reasons. Snow, ice, snow, ice, rain, melting snow, the fact we only use one side of it because Suzi hates Alaskan winters. We got a good couple inches these past few days, so I ventured out to shovel.
I thought I'd make the driveway better.
It's worst.
For one, the tire tracks left by the Monstrosity are a combination of frozen snow and ice. I can't shovel them up. They are also growing as the winter continues, so they are pretty much one half of the driveway. I struggled for almost two hours trying to get the driveway shoveled till I gave up. It looked like a disaster area where I attempted to shovel and you still couldn't see blacktop. Also, it was REALLY SLIPPRY.
At least it snowed last night. So now you can't tell I even shoveled. Well, except on the side of the driveway I didn't get to and began new snow piles, as the ones in our driveway are over eight feet high. I can't throw things that high. With the shovel.
In the past few weeks I've also seen people cleaning off their roofs. The guy next door has some sort of special motorized roof shovel to clean it off. No one told me I'd have to worry about shoveling the freaking roof. Pilot Boy thinks it is stupid to shovel the roof.
"Takes away insulation."
So, we still have snow on our roof. All of it. Every layer.
Do I think if I had a snow blower, my attempt to clean the driveway would have gone better?
No.
I can't use a snow blower. Ask my mother.
We've had snow on the ground since October.
We do not own a snow blower. We own a shovel. Actually, we don't own it. It came with the house. It's a very nice shovel. Except when you want to shovel. I hate it when I have to shovel.
Our driveway is a slight disaster for a wide array of reasons. Snow, ice, snow, ice, rain, melting snow, the fact we only use one side of it because Suzi hates Alaskan winters. We got a good couple inches these past few days, so I ventured out to shovel.
I thought I'd make the driveway better.
It's worst.
For one, the tire tracks left by the Monstrosity are a combination of frozen snow and ice. I can't shovel them up. They are also growing as the winter continues, so they are pretty much one half of the driveway. I struggled for almost two hours trying to get the driveway shoveled till I gave up. It looked like a disaster area where I attempted to shovel and you still couldn't see blacktop. Also, it was REALLY SLIPPRY.
At least it snowed last night. So now you can't tell I even shoveled. Well, except on the side of the driveway I didn't get to and began new snow piles, as the ones in our driveway are over eight feet high. I can't throw things that high. With the shovel.
In the past few weeks I've also seen people cleaning off their roofs. The guy next door has some sort of special motorized roof shovel to clean it off. No one told me I'd have to worry about shoveling the freaking roof. Pilot Boy thinks it is stupid to shovel the roof.
"Takes away insulation."
So, we still have snow on our roof. All of it. Every layer.
Do I think if I had a snow blower, my attempt to clean the driveway would have gone better?
No.
I can't use a snow blower. Ask my mother.
27 February 2012
Writing Updates
I'm writing this to update the following:
1. My writing (as in novels)
2. My writing and entry for this blog that Blogger lost.
We will deal with two first.
I wrote a nice, long, detailed entry about my trip to Florida in January. It had pictures! It had links! It had funny stories!
Then it wouldn't publish. It was stuck. I SAVED THE ENTRY multiple times throughout the construction and before I put the pictures in. So, while I was sad I'd loose the pictures, I was like, whatever. So, I hit the back button.
Blogger saved THE FIRST SENTENCE. And the tags I added AFTER I PUT THE PICTURES IN.
I've been mad at Blogger for awhile now. My brother suggested I try Wordpress, so I did. Only, I don't know how to get y'all over there easily and still follow through Google, so here I am still.
Now, onto the first one.
Writing.
I do it. Daily. Often. Constantly.
This doesn't mean I have much to show for it. And by show for it, finished novels in order for people to actually read. Nor do I have readers. I have maybe three. My friend A read two things for me and got her comments back to me. I'm on the right track. A friend of my brothers has Summer Story. haven't heard a peep from her, but brother assures me it's covered in red (editing, suggestions...I quiver with excitement. Have been. For months. I am serious.) My other friend (S), is slowly getting back to me on 10p. Last time she gave me her feelings on the story, the story were heading in the right direction. She was feeling what she ought to towards the characters. Twas all good.
But I feel like I need more before I start querying myself around. I feel like 10p is ready to go. (And by go, I don't think it has any huge plot holes.) But I don't want to start doing anything till I get it back from S.
And I'm not in a rush. Other than my husband gave me a year deadline. (Well, it's a bit longer. I have till our next move.) And what is this deadline? I have to get a job. He doesn't care what it is, but I have to get a job that pays. (He doesn't think my selling purses is a job, though he did send me to a leather store...he wants me to break into leather. I think he's insane, but we all ready know he is nuts.) My current job (as a writer) doesn't pay me diddle squat. I just spend hours upon hours at it and have no $$$ to show. $$$ is important to Pilot Boy. And to me, insomuch I'd like some money.
So, now what?
I have several open ended projects. I get stuck and just stop writing. I banged out a bunch of EH stories and DM stories then got stuck on their final ones (well, I only started EH, haven't even touched DM.)
The 10p series is at a stand still. The last two stories of that series I don't know where I am going with them. They have a strong start though. I'm really bad at outlining and planning out. I just kind of sit down and start. And hope for the best. I know this is not the best way to go around constructing a story, but I'm honestly better at this than you think. And by that I mean, I do finish novels. I do finish them and I do have some vague sense of what I want to get to in the end. I have beginnings and endings in mind, just no middles. I know where DM and EH is going to end. I know this, I just don't know how to get them there in a manner that is a novel length long book. (DM has this issue more so than EH, not sure why, but E is much longer winded than D...) With the Four Girls series, I have the start of their series banged out, completed and ready to read. I'm missing Book Two, Three and Book Five. I have Book Four completed. And I have the ending of Book Five, plus bits and pieces. Only, I have changed up relationships and characters in re-writing things. I also don't know if I even want to write Book Three, or if I just want to glaze over all that and just use flashbacks in the next book to go over it. Mostly because the characters all all over the place (two in Scotland, one in France, on in Wisconsin.) Also, I only have ONE of the character's story lines for that book worked out in any sense.
But onto what I am currently working on while the other stuff sits around...
I am rewriting RAB for the third time. Why? Because it's weak in the current form it's in. I tragically discovered during my failed attempts to get my family to read it G wasn't likable. Or she had no purpose. No drive. Basically, G is/was me. So of course she has no direction, no drive, or desires. At her age, I had none. (Other than having better hair and clothes.) Also, in trying to insert romance into her story in my last rewrite, she ventured very far off her original track. After having A read it (she said it was cute, not her cup of tea and she felt that Greta ought to wrap things up, as I combined G's and AK's stories together as alone they weren't LONG enough...go figure), I felt that I needed to go back to the start with G. With all of them, actually. I got bored reading the new versions, something that hasn't happened ever with RAB. So, I tried to find the orignal version (before I changed up to make it more interesting) and rewrote it. I took out the romance in G's story, kept it as it originally was and focused more on the fact G simply wants to be around people who like her for who she is, as her main issue in life is that she is G and people like her only for her name. (This is an ongoing theme for the poor girl, as she deals with it again in her second book.)
It took me forever to rewrite G's story for one reason: Pilot Boy.
He is a pest. He's worst than the dog sometimes with bothering me, interrupting me, and demanding my attention like a three year old. (I love him, still, but seriously.) I try to write while he's at work, but he's on an assignment where he's 'bored" all the time. Till I put my foot down and he gave me a year to do whatever, I couldn't actually type out a whole scene without him texting me, calling me, messaging me in some form. I used to be able to multitask, but as I've gotten older, when I am in the writing zone, I find it's best if I just STAY THERE. Then it all pours out before I forget. (A concept Pilot boy has issue with.)
Finally, we came up with the Blue Light. The blue light is this stupid light I got from IKEA when I was in high school because I thought it was cute. How can I light be cute? Well, it's got feet. And looks kind of like a cartoon character of a light bulb. I had it throughout college in my dorm room. I hardly ever turn it on because it's kind of stupid and gets really freaking hot. Since we moved to Anchorage, it's lived on the desk. So, after having a small battle one evening after Pilot Boy came home, he said, "FINE! If this blue light is on, I will leave you alone!"
I turned it on right away.
Well, the blue light is on, so I'm going to go write some more before dinner. Get a few more scenes banged out.
1. My writing (as in novels)
2. My writing and entry for this blog that Blogger lost.
We will deal with two first.
I wrote a nice, long, detailed entry about my trip to Florida in January. It had pictures! It had links! It had funny stories!
Then it wouldn't publish. It was stuck. I SAVED THE ENTRY multiple times throughout the construction and before I put the pictures in. So, while I was sad I'd loose the pictures, I was like, whatever. So, I hit the back button.
Blogger saved THE FIRST SENTENCE. And the tags I added AFTER I PUT THE PICTURES IN.
I've been mad at Blogger for awhile now. My brother suggested I try Wordpress, so I did. Only, I don't know how to get y'all over there easily and still follow through Google, so here I am still.
Now, onto the first one.
Writing.
I do it. Daily. Often. Constantly.
This doesn't mean I have much to show for it. And by show for it, finished novels in order for people to actually read. Nor do I have readers. I have maybe three. My friend A read two things for me and got her comments back to me. I'm on the right track. A friend of my brothers has Summer Story. haven't heard a peep from her, but brother assures me it's covered in red (editing, suggestions...I quiver with excitement. Have been. For months. I am serious.) My other friend (S), is slowly getting back to me on 10p. Last time she gave me her feelings on the story, the story were heading in the right direction. She was feeling what she ought to towards the characters. Twas all good.
But I feel like I need more before I start querying myself around. I feel like 10p is ready to go. (And by go, I don't think it has any huge plot holes.) But I don't want to start doing anything till I get it back from S.
And I'm not in a rush. Other than my husband gave me a year deadline. (Well, it's a bit longer. I have till our next move.) And what is this deadline? I have to get a job. He doesn't care what it is, but I have to get a job that pays. (He doesn't think my selling purses is a job, though he did send me to a leather store...he wants me to break into leather. I think he's insane, but we all ready know he is nuts.) My current job (as a writer) doesn't pay me diddle squat. I just spend hours upon hours at it and have no $$$ to show. $$$ is important to Pilot Boy. And to me, insomuch I'd like some money.
So, now what?
I have several open ended projects. I get stuck and just stop writing. I banged out a bunch of EH stories and DM stories then got stuck on their final ones (well, I only started EH, haven't even touched DM.)
The 10p series is at a stand still. The last two stories of that series I don't know where I am going with them. They have a strong start though. I'm really bad at outlining and planning out. I just kind of sit down and start. And hope for the best. I know this is not the best way to go around constructing a story, but I'm honestly better at this than you think. And by that I mean, I do finish novels. I do finish them and I do have some vague sense of what I want to get to in the end. I have beginnings and endings in mind, just no middles. I know where DM and EH is going to end. I know this, I just don't know how to get them there in a manner that is a novel length long book. (DM has this issue more so than EH, not sure why, but E is much longer winded than D...) With the Four Girls series, I have the start of their series banged out, completed and ready to read. I'm missing Book Two, Three and Book Five. I have Book Four completed. And I have the ending of Book Five, plus bits and pieces. Only, I have changed up relationships and characters in re-writing things. I also don't know if I even want to write Book Three, or if I just want to glaze over all that and just use flashbacks in the next book to go over it. Mostly because the characters all all over the place (two in Scotland, one in France, on in Wisconsin.) Also, I only have ONE of the character's story lines for that book worked out in any sense.
But onto what I am currently working on while the other stuff sits around...
I am rewriting RAB for the third time. Why? Because it's weak in the current form it's in. I tragically discovered during my failed attempts to get my family to read it G wasn't likable. Or she had no purpose. No drive. Basically, G is/was me. So of course she has no direction, no drive, or desires. At her age, I had none. (Other than having better hair and clothes.) Also, in trying to insert romance into her story in my last rewrite, she ventured very far off her original track. After having A read it (she said it was cute, not her cup of tea and she felt that Greta ought to wrap things up, as I combined G's and AK's stories together as alone they weren't LONG enough...go figure), I felt that I needed to go back to the start with G. With all of them, actually. I got bored reading the new versions, something that hasn't happened ever with RAB. So, I tried to find the orignal version (before I changed up to make it more interesting) and rewrote it. I took out the romance in G's story, kept it as it originally was and focused more on the fact G simply wants to be around people who like her for who she is, as her main issue in life is that she is G and people like her only for her name. (This is an ongoing theme for the poor girl, as she deals with it again in her second book.)
It took me forever to rewrite G's story for one reason: Pilot Boy.
He is a pest. He's worst than the dog sometimes with bothering me, interrupting me, and demanding my attention like a three year old. (I love him, still, but seriously.) I try to write while he's at work, but he's on an assignment where he's 'bored" all the time. Till I put my foot down and he gave me a year to do whatever, I couldn't actually type out a whole scene without him texting me, calling me, messaging me in some form. I used to be able to multitask, but as I've gotten older, when I am in the writing zone, I find it's best if I just STAY THERE. Then it all pours out before I forget. (A concept Pilot boy has issue with.)
Finally, we came up with the Blue Light. The blue light is this stupid light I got from IKEA when I was in high school because I thought it was cute. How can I light be cute? Well, it's got feet. And looks kind of like a cartoon character of a light bulb. I had it throughout college in my dorm room. I hardly ever turn it on because it's kind of stupid and gets really freaking hot. Since we moved to Anchorage, it's lived on the desk. So, after having a small battle one evening after Pilot Boy came home, he said, "FINE! If this blue light is on, I will leave you alone!"
I turned it on right away.
Well, the blue light is on, so I'm going to go write some more before dinner. Get a few more scenes banged out.
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