National Poetry Month #7.

I'm clearly behind now. I have my work cut out for me today!

13. Run around your house and grab 5 items that all begin with the same letter. Write a poem as an ode to one of these items or that includes these items.


Items: Beer, basket, backpack, book, bobblehead

Baskets spilling over with abundance of toys,
books scattered pell mell over the floor,
backpack bursting with unread materials,
bobbleheads gathering dust,
all need to wait
for me to finish my beer.

14. Think of the nicest thing someone ever said to you. Write a poem about a rainy day and something flooding. End the poem with the good thing someone said.

The steady pattering and buffeting wind
hasn't let up all day.
Obliged to stay indoors, little boys
press their faces against the window,
watching the slow streams
run out of the drainpipes onto the lawn.
Slowly at first, but inexorably,
a forgotten bucket fills with water.
After a dramatic, though unseen
moment of surface tension,
it runs over the edge to christen the azaleas.
This sudden flood
echoes the feeling I had upon reading
a letter from my sister some years ago.
While our love was clear,
we don't speak much of our feelings.
This made her admission to me
all the more poignant:
"I hold you up as an example for my children."

15. Write a poem that describes the wallpaper on your computer or the image on the last postcard you received.



Countless stars, pinpoints of light
representing unseen worlds
enveloped in the black, airless void
encompassing space.
A cold, inhospitable environment
made warmer by a sudden burst
of pink, white and pale blue.
Is it the birth of a new star?
The explosion of a star at the end of its life?
Or simply another mystery of the cosmos?

16. Make a list of ten images of things you have seen in the last 24 hours. Use all of them in a poem.
The first, intrepid housefly
perches on the sheet music, studying
the markings.

Dark blue yarn wraps around silvery needles
as sinuously as dancers performing
an Argentine tango.
a dark-eyed boy shrieks with delight,
revealing his face suddenly to his brother,
coming starkly into view, as in
a freshly-wiped mirror,
or as objects below a forked tongue of lightning.

Blue-eyed boy so deep in concentration
he doesn't see me coming.
He's busy digging a hole he can go in.
His brother backs in for
a patented toddler hug:
leaning forward, sitting on my lap
with my arm around him.

17. Write a poem that includes these words: bamboozled, bloodlust, bibliography. Have the title include one of these words: contradiction, constellation, cranberry.

Mr. Contradiction
He could be in the bibliography
of a book on bloodlust.
His victims bamboozled
by his gentle façade,
they willingly follow him
into a velvet-lined trap.
By the time they realize
something is amiss,
it is far too late.
Their fate is sealed,
they're marked for doom
as he smiles and seals their fate.

National Poetry Month, section 6.

11. Write a poem that begins with the last thing you can remember someone saying to you today or yesterday. See if you can use that line two or three times.


Retail Therapy
"Sure, because we NEED something."
Not so much a need as a want.
Not so much a want as a moment
to indulge oneself in a pleasure
that is solely selfish, a break
in days upon days of selfless tasks:
running after tiny, stumbling feet,
wiping constantly runny noses,
kissing boo-boos and wiping messy bottoms.
"Sure, because we NEED something."
That one moment of selfishness
refuels us for countless more
of the selfless.

12. Turn on the radio to any channel. Write a poem inspired by the first thing you hear (lyrics to a song, a commercial, etc.)

Traffic reports.
Kind of irrelevant these days,
a newer resident of Smalltown USA.
Sure, they're still useful
when going to visit the in-laws,
but in general, a welcomely
discarded habit.
Generally nothing but open road,
deer and other wildlife
much more common
than taillights.

National Poetry Month, 5th installment.

In case you haven't been following my posts this month, I'm working on NaPoWriMo, sort of like NaNoWriMo for National Poetry Month: writing a poem for each day of the month of April. I've been doing them in chunks, however. Thanks to Kelli Russell Agodon for the prompts.

9. Write a poem to your favorite letter of the alphabet.





I don't particularly have a favorite letter, but I'll pick K because I have lots of special people in my life whose names involve that letter.



A kicky letter that kills boredom,
kissing the kaleidoscope
of karma, a kangaroo
keeps time with the koala,
kvetching about the kites
flying about the kitchen.
Mercifully, this k cavalcade
has kinked up and expired.

10. Write a poem about the one or all of the 7 sins that only contains seven word lines.

Seven: Deadly
You cross me, I'll never forgive you.
"You can never be too rich?" True.
Everyone should be waiting on me now.
I'm smarter and prettier than them anyway.
I want to make love to everybody.
What do they have that I don't?
Too many yummy things are never enough.

National Poetry Month, issue 4.

7. Find a favorite recipe. Now write a poem inspired or in the style of that recipe about a family secret, yours or someone else’s.
Inspiration: Toll House Cookie recipe

Recipe for a Setback
Preheat oven to 375.
Combine hopes and dreams in a small bowl.
Mix a sense of security, excitement, love, and peace in a large mixer bowl until well combined.
Add doubts, one at a time, stirring until fully incorporated.
Gradually beat in fear, then add despair.
Drop by rounded teaspoonfuls onto realistic cookie sheet.
After crying and/or soul searching for 9-11 minutes, scrape up what you can salvage and start again.

8. Turn your paper so that it’s in the landscape position. Write a poem about God or the universe or the horizon of the ocean with longer lines and see what happens.


No Greater Love
The longer I live, the truer I know it to be: humans are fearfully and wonderfully made.
I have been privileged to know seeming angels on this earth, as well as those who constantly challenge and hamper my progress.
I have seen those whose hearts are large enough to take in all, and those whose hearts can only contain themselves.
Lord, I know You have seen both extremes as well, and felt both utter love and bitter hatred directed at You as You walked as one of us.
To this day, You likely hear as many words of devotion as You do of derision.
I can only pray that those of us doing the praising and adoration can drown out those on the other side.
On this, the day You conquered death to bring all who know You to new life, let me reiterate how much You are loved.
This world did not deserve such a perfect sacrifice, but You showed the way for us to heal the world from the mess we've made of it.
No greater love can someone have than to lay down one's life for one's friends. You did not merely say this, but acted it out for our benefit.
Your selfless act has saved us all; all we have to do is accept Your love and try to love each other in return.

National Poetry Month, part the third.

6. Write a poem in two sections about two completely different things. Have the title link both items today in a surprising way.

Familiar
I.
His blue eyes widen,
teeth flash in a grin as
an infectious giggle bubbles up.
This bundle of gangly arms and legs
curled onto my lap is precious cargo,
if not the most temporarily comfortable.

These little souls entwine with my own,
grabbing hold in a way that can never be
undone without destroying myself in the process.
The adage is true, I would lay down my life
if I had to choose between them and myself.
Nothing is better than being a family.

II.
I've been here before.
I have no real memory of it,
but I'm certain I've seen this view,
browsed this shop,
traveled this road some other time.

Perhaps some unknown ancestor
was born, lived, and died here,
and now that person's story
has been lost to memory.

Maybe someday, browsing my family tree,
I will come upon that missing link
that explains my strange sense of home
being in a foreign place.

National Poetry Month, volume 2.

 Yeah yeah, I'm a few days behind, so what? :)

2. Write about a poem about a superhero coming to your house and confronting you about something. Somewhere in the poem, you have to state what your superpower is.


Doorbell rings, then predawn knocking.
This had better be real good.
A yawn, and now my eyes are popping;
Batman standing on my porch.

Brucie, why the cloak and dagger?
I'm sure I gave you my cell.
Sure, my rhymes give me some swagger,
but come on now, what the hell?

Okay, Loverboy is trying
to write something for his girl.
Pressure felt, his brain is frying
as the page remains untouched.

Bruce, I love you like a brother,
so I'll give it to you straight:
girls appreciate a lover
who can write with open heart.

Lay your soul bare, heed no caution,
big risk equals big rewards.
Let her see your true devotion,
and you'll claim her heart for keeps.

Furthermore, embrace the slant rhyme,
no use agonizing there.
Most care more about the meaning
than perfection. Now, goodnight.


3. Write a poem that is really a love letter to an old flame. To make sure it’s doesn’t slip into sappy make sure one or more of these words is in the poem: dung beetle, politician, nuclear, exoskeleton, oceanography, pompadour, toilet.

Dearest Pookie,
How I miss our time together long ago.
To me, our love remains pristine,
preserved in the ether that first choked it to death.
You rolled me across the savanna like a dung beetle
carrying its prize, its exoskeleton
gleaming in the midday sun.
You knew me like a politician
knows oceanography.
Your pompadour reminded me of a nuclear
holocaust.
Any feelings I still have for you can be exhausted
in a trip to the toilet.
Love, Me.


4. Make a list of seven words that have the same vowel sounds (like bee, treat, pepperoni, eagle) and use them in a repetitive way throughout a poem.
My words:  sigh, butterfly, multiply, cry, alive, bide, ice

I.
A sigh, like a butterfly
floating, alive, my soul's cry;
I bide while it multiplies,
scattering on the ice.

II.
Does a butterfly cry
when it finds itself alive,
after having to bide its time
in a state of ice, sighing through
multiplying cells in metamorphosis?

III.
Multiply a sigh,
then bide while it turns to ice,
alive butterfly no more,
just a cry.

IV.
A cry multiplies,
ice shatters before the biding butterfly;
The sound alive, ending with a sigh.

5. Write a poem about a weird fact or facts that you know.

Did you know?

Horses can't burp.
Chameleons don't turn plaid.
If you could care less, you actually imply that you care a little.

Audrey Hepburn smuggled resistance messages in her ballet shoes.
Hermit crabs can draw blood if provoked.
Birds are living relatives of dinosaurs.

That part of "Love Shack" is "Tin roof, rusted!"
William Faulkner was a literary genius.
It's possible to whistle backwards.

Living in the past only squanders the future.
Children are endless sources of joy.
Mahna Mahna (doot doo doo doo doo).

The last line of the last poem needs fixing. Or not. Let me know. :)
I'd love to read any responses you feel inspired to write!

Fiction prompts, part 3.

Hi all,
In a novel move, I actually wrote a piece on today's Figment Fiction prompt...today. I know, crazy. But here it is, since my mom can't read it all on their site. :)

The prompt encouraged writers to write about a character living through an embarrassing situation. I took this and ran with it. The first part is fiction, the second part is 100% true. Enjoy.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot
I love babies.

Therefore, I also love pregnant women. I seem to gravitate toward them, hoping to start up a conversation, eager to share advice or compare notes, as the situation would allow.

That's why, when I saw a pretty young woman across the produce aisle, a t-shirt stretched over her rounded midsection, I made a beeline for her to introduce myself.

"Hello, I'm Carol. I haven't seen you here before, are you new in town?"

"Hi, I'm Amber. Yes, we just moved here a few weeks ago." Amber deposited a bunch of bananas into her cart.

"That's wonderful, welcome to the neighborhood! Are you liking it so far?"

"Yes, everyone is so friendly here, I'm very happy." Amber smiled shyly.

"So, when are you due?"

Amber's smile faded as the color drained from her face. "I'm not...I'm not pregnant," she said.

"Oh..." I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. "I'm so sorry..." I allowed her to make a graceful exit while I pretended to inspect some peaches, blinking back tears of anger at myself for making such a boneheaded mistake.

What made this whole situation worse was that I have had the same thing happen to me, in reverse. The first time, I was in college, browsing jewelry at the mall, minding my own business. The sales girl came up and blurted, "Are you pregnant?" Um, lady, I'm 20 years old and not sporting a wedding ring...even if I was pregnant, I may not want to discuss it with strangers. And since when has it not been common knowledge NOT to assume that of women? Now I just felt fat, when earlier that day I had felt like I was looking pretty good. Thanks a lot.

Even after having my two kids, I have literally run my butt off, racing in several half, then a full marathon, getting back to my pre-pregnancy weight. However, I can't seem to get rid of a slight roundness to my midsection, an unfortunate casualty of having two large boys reside in my short torso for nine months apiece. It is really a slap in the face to have a woman come up and tell me that my baby will be a runner since I'm taking him/her along with me for my marathon. I'M NOT PREGNANT!!!

So, what have I learned from this? Assume nothing. We all know what happens when we assume. The only time it's acceptable to make such an assumption is if the woman is a patient in Labor and Delivery at the hospital, in the obstetrician's office looking at her sonogram pictures, or the guest of honor at a baby shower. Otherwise, keep my mouth shut!

How about you, dear readers? Have you been on either side of one of these awkward exchanges? What did you do/ what did you WANT to do? Spill it. :)

Fiction prompts, part 2.

Hello again. Time has gotten away from me once again, but here is another group of writing prompts that spoke to me, courtesy of Figment Fiction.

Focus on an important life milestone (a birth, a wedding, a funeral). Slow time down to a crawl and zero in on the most important moment in that event. Describe in wrenchingly specific detail what goes on in those minutes. You can focus on many characters or stick to the perspective of just one.

My head is spinning as I carefully take the tiny bundle from the nurse’s arms. Tiny squeaks are emitting from the occupant of the blanket-cocoon as I try to act like I’ve ever held something so tiny before in my life. My hand trembles as I brush the blanket back from her face. Still red from her long struggle for independence, she settles quickly into my chest. No one else could be in the room, as far as I’m concerned; I only have eyes for her. Her eyes are fluttering as she blinks in the bright light of the hospital room. I try to make out their color, but as yet they are quite dark, almost black, with lashes that would make models jealous. Fuzzy dark hair covers her head, sticking out at every possible angle. I bend down to touch my cheek to her head. Velvet feels like sandpaper compared to that baby hair. She smells amazing--an unearthly sweet smell I have never before experienced. I realize that I’ve just spent what seems like an eternity just staring at my baby, but I should talk to her, let her hear the voice she’s spent so many months hearing from the inside. Putting my lips to her tiny, shell-like ear, I whisper with a lump forming in my throat, “Welcome to the world, baby girl. Mama and Daddy love you more than anything, and we’ll love you no matter what.”

 

 Go back to the important life milestone you focused on yesterday (a birth , a wedding, a funeral). Now speed the event up. It’s going so rapidly that you’re only able to capture snippets of action and dialogue. What are the moments that stand out? What makes it into your retelling of this event?

“It’s a girl!”
The parents’ eyes well up with tears.
“She’s perfect!” exclaims Grandma.
“What’s her name?” asks Dr. Green.
“S-Sybil,” Dad manages to answer.
“We’ll just clean her up and give her right back to you,” the nurse explains.
“Oh!” Grandma croons, snapping a few pictures.
The nurse hands the baby back to her mother, who can’t take her eyes off the new person she created.

“Welcome to the world, baby girl. Mama and Daddy love you more than anything, and we’ll love you no matter what.” Mom can only tear her eyes away from the baby long enough to give her husband his first kiss as a full-fledged father.

Write an active scene entirely in dialogue. No quotation marks; no he said-she said; no description of action—just the words the characters say. Don't explicitly tell us what the activity is, but through your characters' dialogue, make it clear what they're doing.

--How much longer?
--Just relax and try to keep up.
--Man, anyone who says this is easy is kidding themselves.
--Ha ha!
--Can’t we just slow down for a minute?
--Nope. You asked me to help, so I’m helping.
--I’m beginning to regret that.
--Really? c’mon, you can’t be serious.
--I guess not...but you’re making this really hard.
--That’s what she said!
--Har har har.
--Okay, I’ll slow down for a second. But then we’ll do a sprint at the end.
--Ugh...deal.
--Promise?
--Yeah.
***
--Race you to the top of the hill!
--NOOOOOO!

Fiction prompts, part 1.

Last week I signed up for Figment Fiction's daily fiction prompts, with the grand hope of writing something for each day's prompt and posting it here. Well, in classic fashion, I didn't get around to it all week, but I was determined to post at least a little bit today from last week's prompts. So, here we go.

Jan. 9 Using third person, write about a moment when a character who usually feels (and perhaps is) painfully awkward temporarily feels singularly beautiful, handsome, sexy, and at ease.

As she stepped out of the car and her paddock boots touched the dusty terrain, Jessie felt like she could breathe again. Forgotten were the disdainful looks she got from the upperclassmen as she tripped over her own feet at lunch. The echoes of the laughter as she stammered in Spanish class died away. Now there were only the soothing hoofbeats of Sasha, her favorite mare. Jessie now focused only on moving as one with the lithe animal, allowing the equine’s power to flow through her and reveling in the confidence that this, she could do well. The school-day mask fell away and at last, she allowed herself to smile. 

Jan. 10 Make a list of 20 angry words—they can be words related to anger or words that just sound mad. Now write about something you love/cherish/revere using as many of these words as you can

furious
livid
hot
rage
boiling
feverish
seething
scream
shout
erupt
vendetta
revenge
grudge
humiliate
withering
disdain
explode
growl
hiss
sneer

I set my mind to work, furiously tapping out the thoughts boiling through my brain. Feverish to contain the ideas seething below the surface, I fear the livid rage hiding just beneath them that is reserved for when they escape me. Sometimes writing can be a struggle not to scream aloud, repressing those urges to the level of a growl or a hiss at the internal editor shouting disdainfully at my poor structure, diction, or whatever it feels like picking on that day. I mentally sneer, vowing revenge of even more words tomorrow should it get the best of me today. The vendetta continues each time I put fingers to keyboard or pen to paper; my own mind seems to hold a grudge against me for pushing it to create new worlds, things that have never been, out of thin air. Yet, when I procrastinate too long, pent-up ideas nearly explode out of me, a somewhat humiliating experience when I allow myself to believe I have nothing to write. For now, however, I shoot the naysaying part of my brain a withering look, allowing the hot magma of new words a controlled eruption onto the blank pages.

Wow, thanks!

 I had my dear friend, August, give me this shiny little badge for my humble little blog. Not being familiar with blog-type awards, I had to look it up. Turns out this is an award designed to recognize blogs with less than 200 followers. Part of this honor asks me to name five other blogs deserving of this award, and to share seven random things about myself. So, without further ado:

Liebster Blog awards!
1. Paige at Sojourner. She has a remarkable knack for phrasing her thoughts and feelings in a poetic way. Her blog is a glimpse into the life of a homeschooling mama with seven beautiful little ones.
2. Tristy at the Kolden Blog. She is mama to four beautiful boys and is expecting another miracle.
3. Muser at Poet's Musings. He is a beloved poetry professor at my alma mater. He often posts some of his original work at this blog, in addition to readings of famous poems he uploads to YouTube.
4. Kristin at Dialecstatic. Her blog is equal parts alluring, hilarious, and inspiring. She is another talented poet.
5. Katy at August Earth. Above and beyond being a lovely person, Katy is converting a traditional farm to a small CSA, and I hope to glean some information about how to start a kitchen garden from her!

7 Random Facts about me:
1. I never learned to ride a bike. This was one of the unfortunate side effects of being so much younger than my siblings. I was a cautious child and no one was determined to teach me, so it just didn't happen. I'll learn before the boys get big enough to want to bike all over the place.
2. I can write backwards and upside down. I can also read backwards and/or upside down pretty well without a mirror.
3. I'd love to learn to speak Welsh. I'm part Welsh but no living family members know it, and I love the language.
4. I showed in English hunter/jumper horse shows for seven years. I miss it and wish I could ride again, but it takes time and money, neither of which I have a lot to spare these days.
5. I have sung and acted onstage. I really love musicals and have been fortunate enough to participate in several before we had children. Hopefully someday I can do some more.
6. I played the clarinet through high school. Yup, band/orchestra geek right here. I really like classical and jazz music.
7. I once owned a chameleon. His name was Henry and he was glorious. Unfortunately he got sick and we couldn't find a vet or anyone who could help him, so he passed away. If my sons want to get one some day I will make sure that we know someone who can treat it if it should get sick.

Award winners: your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to name five other blogs you think are deserving of the Liebster Blog Award, and share 7 random facts about yourself. Let your honorees know about their award by posting on their blogs. Have fun!

There you have it. Now it's much too late so I am going to bed. Goodnight.

Resolutions, redux.

I subscribe to a service that emails me significant Facebook posts from a year ago. Yesterday, it sent me the post in which I made my New Year's resolutions for 2011. Of the three, I'd say I accomplished one: running the Chicago Marathon. While I'm proud of that one, I realize that I didn't work as hard as I could have on the other two. That said, I'm eager to kick my own butt to accomplish them this year. So here are my revised and amended resolutions for 2012.

1. Read and write more.
I waste entirely too much time messing around online, at least some of which could be devoted to reading writing books, reading fun books, updating my blog, writing poetry, or writing/revising my manuscript.

2. Finish writing/revising/editing my NaNo '09 manuscript and begin querying agents.
I meant to do this one last year, but with all my procrastinating I didn't manage to get there. This year is the year. Dangit.

3. Begin writing a manuscript for my new idea, possibly for NaNo '12.
I have what I hope is a good idea for a middle-grade fiction series, and I am eager to explore it, but I don't want to get too involved in it before I am done with my other manuscript. Once I begin querying agents, I'll keep myself busy for the wait by starting on my new idea.

Hopefully, if I can manage at least 2 out of the 3, I'll be querying by this time next year, and best case scenario, I'll have two finished manuscripts...let's see how much I can keep my nose to the grindstone.

Why I Write.

I write to figure out what I think about things.

I write to give voice to my fears, then destroy them.

I write to make real my fantasies or wishes I know can't come true.

I write to create other worlds to share.

I write to see what shapes I can twist words into today.

I write to relax my mind.

I write to sharpen my mind.

I write to exorcise my demons.

I write to feed my spirit and nourish my soul.

I write to feel like a grown-up after a day spent with small children.

I write to feel like a child after having to be the parent all day.

I write because if I didn't, I'd probably explode.

I write because I've wanted to be a writer since I knew that was a job.

I write because I want to have something to show my children when they're grown.

I write because I want to have something to show my children while they're young.

I write to remember who I am, who I was, and who I want to be.

Why do YOU write?

Resolutions, 2011 Edition.

Happy New Year!

I have been away for far too long again. I spent some of my fleeting me-time in the last few weeks thinking about reprioritizing, and that has led me to form the following resolutions.

1. Run the 2011 Chicago Marathon. This was always going to be one of my goals this year. It will kick my butt into gear on getting back in shape after having my second son, and I have always wanted to run a marathon. My brother, a marathon veteran, has committed to running it with me, so I will have a friendly face and running partner as well. Hurrah!

2. Read and write more. This is one of those things I've been "meaning to do" but not really trying very hard to do it for the most part. I was given a book reader by my wonderful husband last Christmas (2009!) but it has mostly collected dust over the past year, to my shame. It even has over 30 books just waiting to be read, but I need to stake out the time to use it. I plan to get this time by not sitting around playing silly games on Facebook when I could be soaking up great literature. The writing portion will include updating this blog more often as well!

3. Finish editing my manuscript to prepare to submit to editors and agents by the end of 2011. I have already made the fundamental change I decided on once I was finished with 2009's NaNoWriMo (changing my main character from the male character to a female), but I still have a lot of work to do to make it presentable. I think that if I chip away at it consistently, I should have something to be fairly proud of by the end of the year. I believe I have the kernel of a good idea here, hopefully I can turn it into something people will want to read!!

solstice.

By request, I will post today so my mom can see my baby ticker. :) I passed the 35 week mark on Friday, which also happens to be when I had 35 days left. I always thought that particular milestone is kind of fun. The next one I have to look forward to is July 2, when I will be 37 weeks, or full term. It's pretty amazing to me how quickly this last few weeks (even a few months?) have gone. I am now to the stage where little one's movements are increasingly becoming uncomfortable, yet I still relish feeling them since I know I will miss it when he is born. I am looking forward to seeing how similar or different he will look from my big boy, though for quite awhile now I've had a feeling he will look different. I guess we'll see in a few weeks if I was right.

I hope someone else might jump in and write a Gaga-inspired poem; I enjoyed writing mine and Cicely's was a hoot as well. Check them out on my last post if you missed it!

I woke up from my nap this afternoon with a few small ideas for that novel I wrote way back in November, and I am thinking it's a sign that I should try to actually do some edits on it before the baby comes. I hope I keep that motivation for when I actually have the time (after I put the boy to bed). I'll let you know if it worked. :)

I'm alive.

Just writing (or trying to) my NaNoWriMo project. I'm giving in to useless distractions in the name of "thinking" way too often. It makes me sad that I've been up till midnight the last few nights and haven't gotten more written. My husband looked at me a few hours ago and said, "You know you're not going to get that done this month, right?" It's sad but probably true...my basic hope would just be that this would kick my butt and guilt me into writing more of what I had in my head. It has done that. But I do want to get at LEAST halfway to the 50,000 word goal by month's end...I guess we'll see how I can do. I just need to focus.

Also, because of my crazy writing focus, I'll probably just put the poetry challenge and analysis on hiatus until the end of the month. Sorry about that, but I really don't have time to maintain both. I may not post as often either, but I'll try for a few times a week.

Word Count: 7,418/50,000

Writing is hard.

I took a few hours this evening to try and make a dent in my ridiculous NaNoWriMo goal. When you take on the challenge, you're supposed to write 50,000 words by the end of the month of November. Given that I started nine days late, I am already at a bit of a disadvantage. But I am struggling now with how to give coherent form to my "bag of ideas" that I started with. I had a main character with a big idea for him, and a bunch of ideas for incidental characters, but no way to really unite them all. So, I am starting to wing stuff here and there. It's a bit like taking a leap off of a cliff. I'm afraid I'll end up crumpled in a heap somewhere, so my brain starts to try to freeze instead of letting things flow. Plus every little thing starts to distract you. You know, like when you get an assignment for school and you try to find all kinds of things to get out of doing it. Oh, the irony! I'm doing this because I want to, yet I'm procrastinating when I'm already behind?? Ugh. I am going to try and work more on it during the day starting tomorrow. I'm afraid my blog will have to come second for the rest of the month; I am not doing haiku news today to attempt to get enough sleep tonight, and I'm postponing the poem analysis until at least next week. Sorry, folks!!

Word Count: 5,123/50,000 (1/10th of the way!!)

Inspiration.

This morning I went to turn on the news while I fed the boy his breakfast and prepared for the day, when I suddenly remembered that it was the day of the Chicago Marathon. My brother has run and completed that marathon at least 2 or 3 times, and it's on my bucket list to complete someday--hopefully within the next five years. I mean, it's a great city and it's supposed to be one of the flattest courses out there. (I HATE running hills!!!) As I watched the grace and beauty and seeming effortlessness of the winning runners, I realized, I'll never, ever look that good when I run. Then again, who cares? I feel pretty great when I run lately. If I don't forget to take my fuel on my long runs. If I don't eat some Shot Bloks before a longer run (over 5 miles), I feel like I'm running through cement. Unfortunately, that's what happened on Saturday...but I made it through  my seven miles regardless. 

As I gave my feelings more thought, I realized that somewhere along the line I have accepted myself as a runner. I am a runner, even though I'll never win a race. I am a runner, even though the average observer may never recognize it. I am a runner, because if it's been a few days since I've run, my feet get itching to move again. I am a runner, because after the first minute or so the automatic motion is comfortable and comforting, sort of like rocking in a rocking chair, only with more sweat and wind. I am a runner, because I don't even breathe hard while I run anymore. I am a runner, because I can say I'm going to run x number of miles and I do it. I am a runner, because I have completed two half-marathons, the second of which was actually a joy to run. I am a runner, because I actually LIKE running now. Even on crappy run days. So there's that.

The other thing that I find inspiring about running is that I get some good ideas while out there. Sure, I usually listen to music, but I'm also doing a lot of thinking, relatively uninterrupted. I determined on my last run that I should probably make a major change to my novel-start project, to change the POV to first person from third. I am already worried it will be seen as some kind of Harry Potter rip-off, so that change will help distance it from any comparisons. I feel like my idea is different enough not to set off alarm bells anyway, but more distance is better. So I hope that will help me get going more on it...I'm now on page five, when I started this story nearly a year ago. Sigh...

Haiku News

Nineteen sixty-eight

Pan Am hijacking suspect

finally caught...wow.

Israel left out

of Turkish NATO event;

Gaza is to blame.

Homeless find a voice

in St. Paul TV station,

spread awareness, too.

Tenacious Thursday

While feeding my cranky son dinner tonight, I realized that I had resolved on this very blog at least a few weeks ago that I would try to write at least one page of my novel every day for awhile. Well, that lasted all of one night. So I am going to try again and say I'd like to try and work on it at least a few days out of every week--say, three--and try to write a page every time I looked at it. Hopefully that smaller goal will be easier to attain. We shall see, I guess. I would LOVE to be finished writing this thing (at least the first draft) before we have another child, and that is hopefully going to happen before next year is out. Hmm...

Haiku News

Jerkwad of the day:

Boston officer called Gates

"jungle monkey"--ugh.

Taliban issues

new "code of conduct," in which

fighters show restraint;

they are not to kill

innocent civilians in

suicide attacks.

Sorority sued,

members claim its leadership

spent big for wax prez!

Inspiration...

So, I started a "novel" this past December. I woke up from a very vivid dream that I knew could be the start of a really interesting novel idea. I wrote down everything I could think of that belonged to that "world" (it's a kind of fantasy-genre idea) and have continued to keep some notes when I come up with new characters, etc. but I have only really WORKED on writing it for 2 nights. I have one page actually written. It's kind of depressing. Yes, I was in school at the time, but now I have time and I haven't touched it yet. 

The other day, out of curiosity, I looked up the bio of Stephenie Meyer, the author of the "Twilight" series. I discovered that she is a mom of three young sons and the idea for her books came to her in a dream on an ordinary day when she had to take care of her little boys. She is now making $50 million a year. It may sound ridiculous, but I have to think that if she could do it (busier than I am in the parenting department!), I could too. I don't really care about the money so much, I just would love to get this book done and hopefully published. But to do that, I need to start working on it. I need to get my butt in gear. To do this, I think I am going to have to set myself some deadlines. I think I'll start by just getting myself to try and write at least a page every day. Usually if I get a page I want to do more, so hopefully that will get the raw material down and then I can start playing with it. Sorry I'm thinking out loud here. I guess I'm just looking for some moral support from you!

Hence the early blog post today. I will return tomorrow with a new (and not as intimidating, I promise!) Poetry Challenge. So today's your last chance to have a crack at the sestina!

Haiku News

Ahmadinejad

now doubts eyewitness accounts

of Neda's death. Hmm.

Madoff sentenced to

150 years.

Payback is a bitch.

Michael Jackson's mom

given custody of kids;

hope they're OK now.

By popular demand...

Status report: one paper down, one to go. 

December weather:

on top of our sparkly snow,

bucketloads of rain.

Baby tricks galore--

babbling, giggling, pulling up,

playing with his face!