Category Archives: Writing

I’m going NaNoWriMo

22 Thursday Oct 2009

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I will embark on a writing escapade in November — the NaNoWriMo, an annual writing project that brings together amateur and professional writers from around the world, in an admittedly quasi-sane attempt to write 50,000 words in 30 days.  Here is the explanation from the website:

“National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It’s all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that’s a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.

As you spend November writing, you can draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other National Novel Writing Month participants are going through the same joys and sorrows of producing the Great Frantic Novel. Wrimos meet throughout the month to offer encouragement, commiseration, and—when the thing is done—the kind of raucous celebrations that tend to frighten animals and small children.

In 2007, we had over 100,000 participants. More than 15,000 of them crossed the 50k finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists.

So, to recap:

What: Writing one 50,000-word novel from scratch in a month’s time.

Who: You! We can’t do this unless we have some other people trying it as well. Let’s write laughably awful yet lengthy prose together.

Why: The reasons are endless! To actively participate in one of our era’s most enchanting art forms! To write without having to obsess over quality. To be able to make obscure references to passages from our novels at parties. To be able to mock real novelists who dawdle on and on, taking far longer than 30 days to produce their work.

When: You can sign up anytime to add your name to the roster and browse the forums. Writing begins November 1. To be added to the official list of winners, you must reach the 50,000-word mark by November 30 at midnight. Once your novel has been verified by our web-based team of robotic word counters, the partying begins.”

So, there you have it, I am promised partying and general revelry by the end of the month.  They don’t mention tears or hair-ripping, just a vague reference to “commiseration”.  I am filled with questions and yes, doubts and fears, but am willing to give it my best shot.

Anyone care to join me?

goodbye kitty

06 Tuesday Oct 2009

Posted by in get along like cats and dogs, Motherhood, Writing

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The last two weeks, I’ve looked out the window what feels like 500 times, waiting and watching for the cat to come home.

She went out at night, like she had 500 times before.  Most every day, for six years, she went outside for a while then came back, a few hours or a maybe a day later, her little round white face popping back up by the patio door, her mouth opening in near silent meows that couldn’t be heard through the glass.

One day last spring, she did not come back for a day and a half, and I was worried.  I walked along the woods behind our neighborhood, calling her and watching the bushes for a sign of a rustle.  Then, just like that, she came trotting out from the brush, her tail in a happy question mark, ready to be scooped up into my arms and carried home.

She always loved to be outside.  It was where she was happiest, ever since she was a kitten.  She did not catch birds or chase mice — she just seemed to like the freedom, even long before we brought home the dog.  All our previous cats had been indoor only, because letting them outside seemed too dangerous.  But there was no question with this one; to keep her locked up would seem cruel.

We knew we took a chance that her life may be a shorter one, but wanted to make it a happier one.

She was always my garden companion all spring, summer and fall.  When I went out to plant or weed or prune, she would trot out of the woods and come wind around my ankles, waiting for a pet from muddy hands.  Then she would wonder about, and keep me company.  For years, I think we were both hiding outside from noisy children…  In the years I ran my outdoor children’s portrait business in my backyard, she would sometimes come “help” with the shot, and some families had portrait proofs with the cat in them.  Surprise!

She had a reluctant yet softening relationship with the dog.  She had an on-again, off-again relationship with Buster, a male stray that courted her so often we gave him a name.  Buster, the cowboy of stray tomcats.  Oddly, that first night she was missing, I saw Buster for the first time in three months — he startled me in the dark yard as I scanned the rainy night, walking with my flashlight.  He froze with that deer-in-the-headlights look, which I’ll probably now always think of as a cat-in-the-flashlight look.  I whispered “Do you know where she is?”, but he was no help at all, a cowboy cat of few words.

So, I have kept searching, walking not just the perimeter of the woods but all through the brush and branches and along the creek, looking for any sign of her.  I emailed neighbors with a photo, asking if anyone has seen her.  I put up flyers at the vet office and in surrounding neighborhoods, and knocked on doors of people I don’t know asking if I can search the woods behind their houses.  I know there are coyotes that roam the neighborhoods here.  I know that a Yorkshire Terrier disappeared from his nearby wooded backyard three nights after Kitty was last seen.  I know what I find in the woods may not be pleasant.   That is the image that haunts me most.  But I’ve thought for two weeks that if I could just find something, I could stop hoping and stop watching and stop listening for a tiny squeak of a meow at the door.  Since that has not happened, it is now time for me to just let go.

Some well-meaning friends have suggested that she might have always lived a double life, and has had a second “home” that she visited on a regular basis when she stayed out all night before.  Maybe That House just switched to the canned food she was always begging for, so she ditched us with our dry kibble.  Maybe They decided that she should be kept inside at their house from now on, because she is so beautiful and they did not want anything bad to happen to her.  That’s a happier story, and really all of life’s stories are up to us to write.

Someday, maybe I’ll be able to pen one of those heartwarming tales of the pet that disappeared for a long time, and against all odds found its way back home after many adventures and mishaps along the way.  That would be a fun story, but I am going to stop crafting that one in my head, at least for now.  It is time for me to say goodbye.

when bloggers meet, face to face

22 Tuesday Sep 2009

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I am thrilled to again have the opportunity to appear on Jane Friedman’s Writer’s Digest blog There Are No Rules.  In this guest post, I blog about blogging, and meeting a far-away blogger friend in person, and I probably use the word blog way too often, but there it is.  I share the story of what I did on summer vacation, a trip where I met the lovely Judy Clement Wall, and how surreal it can be to make the connection between the cyber and the physical.

I have appeared on There Are No Rules once before, and it is always exciting.  Blogging can take a great deal of time.  For me, so far, the investment has been worth it.  Writing is a journey, and I have found so many wonderful traveling companions…

3…2…1 and we’re live!

03 Monday Aug 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, Writing

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So, the radio interview went well.  It was exciting and a bit nerve-wracking — especially when the very kind host called me at home right before I was leaving for the studio, to tell me that she had inadvertently left all her notes at home, and since she did not have her pre-prepared questions, did I know what I wanted to talk about?  “FOR 30 MINUTES”?

LIVE?

?????

She was so apologetic, and I could tell that she always prepared well for each interview, and she was now wondering how this one would turn out.  For some reason, this put me oddly at ease immediately.  I realized I was comfortable winging it;  it was not knowing the questions she might ask that had my stomach doing flip-flops.  And, it turns out, as she started telling me some of the questions she could recall off the top of her head,  I DID NOT HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I WOULD HAVE SAID TO ANY OF THEM.  It would have been a disaster.  Well, as big a disaster as an interview can be if no one I know hears it.  Seriously, as far as I know, NO ONE I have ever met heard the actual broadcast.  I did mention that this interview was broadcast on a very small public radio station?  The one with the distinction of being the only official public radio station in the U.S. that broadcasts out of a retirement community?  Still, I had been nervous, even if it was possible some of the audience may have been people who could not get up to change the station.

The broadcast booth reminded me of the one on Frazier, except there was no Roz, rather a very encouraging grandmotherly woman instead.  And there was no psychiatrist.  But other than that, it was a lot like the show.  The room had a big control panel with lots of knobs and levers, and people wearing headphones talking into humongous microphones.  The Panel-Operator-Guy did count down “3…..2…..1 ” then point dramatically to us that we were live.  That was a heart-skipper.  Actually, in retrospect maybe it was more like WKRP in Cincinnati.  With no Les Nessman or Herb Tarlek.  Or Loni Anderson.  But otherwise it was a lot like that.

I received a copy of the show on CD in the mail the other day.  I don’t think I wanted to write about the experience until I heard it myself.  Of course, my voice doesn’t sound anything like it does in my head — it had a distinctly northern Wisconsiny nasal quality that is uncomfortably close to Palin-esque.  Like I could almost see Alaska from my old house.

But all in all,  it turned out to be a great experience.  I got to talk about about my funny motherhood story, and the experience of being published for the first time.  I talked about what a kick it is to be included in an anthology, and how it opens doors for interesting experiences, like being where I was that day.  The host could not have been more kind or encouraging.  She has authors lined up to interview each week through November, and has done this show for many years, so I was in good company.  In fact, the author on the second half of the hour-long program was a fascinating man who lost his sight in college when hit by a stray bullet, and the book he has written about the inspirational life he has led since then.  I listened to his interview on the drive home — it kind of put my little story about poo, lying, and chocolate cake into perspective.  The show was very professionally produced and conducted.  And it was just fun.  Before I did it, I kept thinking of it as my “first practice interview”, which makes a giant leap of faith that there will be more opportunities like this in the future.  Even if I never get the chance to do it again, the experience is something I will always remember.  I felt honored to be there.

new news

22 Wednesday Jul 2009

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So, here we are, blogfriends:  I’ve been blogging for six months, and am ready to shake it up a little, go for a blog makeover,  a little redecorating and shuffling and trying something different.  Crazy talk!  I like it — this feels fresh and new to me, and maybe even easier to read and navigate for my readers.  I find all this exciting, which is a red flag to me that I may need to get out more.

Now for a writing update:  I have submitted two more essays to anthologies, and am waiting to hear if I am a finalist for either book.  My email mailbox had become merely a repository for umpteen writing newsletters (yes, I am still reading too much about writing instead of writing about writing).  Now that I am eagerly awaiting an email confirmation that I am still in the running, checking email has become much more fun again.  And I only check 10 times a day, tops.

One of the [keeping-fingers-crossed] publishers is F+W Media’s Cup of Comfort book series.  Incidentally, this website includes a wonderful blog and member forum that outlines the calls for submissions and the status of each title; it also includes very interesting posts by the editor Colleen Sell — her experiences weeding through stories, and compiling a tight collection that will appeal to their readership.  She shares many of her life experiences that shaped the writer and editor she is today.

The second possible publisher is The Ultimate Book Series from HCI Books, which was the publisher of my first published story (did I mention it was published?).  Their website also explains everything a writer needs to know about submitting to books of this genre.  The whole process is quite straight-forward and enjoyable and HCI was a joy to work with the first time around.

As a contributing author in an anthology, I reaped the benefits of their publicist, who sent out press releases in all major markets highlighting any local authors who were included in the book.  As a result of the publicist’s efforts, I will have my first radio interview tomorrow.  It is on a small, local public radio station, for a weekly feature called “Grandparenting Today”.  I will tell heart-warming (and perhaps cautionary) tales about potty-training and lying and chocolate cake.  I will try to be engaging and funny and appealing to an audience of, well, another generation; one who may or may not be interested in potty stories.  At a certain age, diapers are not funny anymore.

I am excited, nervous and seriously wondering what I will talk about for 30 minutes.  There is an old Saturday Night Live skit about a public radio interview that keeps running through my head… I do not want to be that guest.  I think they talked about radishes for 15 minutes.  Yeah… ummm… okay…..

Wish me luck.

a year of no watch

17 Friday Jul 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, something important, I'm sure, Writing

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It is the one year anniversary of my decision to stop wearing a watch.

This would, on the surface, appear to be an illogical decision.  Those who know me personally know that I have long been habitually late.  I would joke that I arrived two weeks after my due date (true, my poor mother), and I never made up the lost time.  Actually, I became 15 minutes late around seventh grade, and maintained that 15 minutes of tardiness for the next 30 years.  It is not really a joke though — it is disrespectful to all those around me who have to wait for my idiosyncrasies to arrive where I am supposed to be.  It also does not set a very good example for my kids.  Jeez, how hard can it be to just get somewhere on time?

Without a lot of bothersome self-deprecating commentary here, I do think The Tardinesss is related to perfectionism.  I would always glance at my watch and think I must accomplish just this one more thing before I needed to ________ (insert deadline here).  A lethal mix when combined with a sketchy sense of time management and a strong propensity to procrastinate.

So, last summer, I took off my watch and vowed to change a life-long bad habit.  Without the crutch of glancing at my wrist and thinking “oh, I must do that before I go”, I had to consciously:

1)  seek out the actual time

THEN

2)  make choices for what to do next

Occasionally, if I can not find a clock (and my cell phone is once again inexplicably dead),  I will still ask strangers for the time.  Most people actually look happy to tell me, like it reminds them of a time-gone-by when people actually talked to one another and made eye contact.  To increase my chances of a pleasant encounter, I do tend to seek out those who are not texting at the time.

I spent the first weeks of this experiment continuing to look down at my wrist only to see it was a hair past a freckle.  But somewhere along the way I found (some of) my lost 15 minutes.  I am now only occasionally late, sometimes ON TIME, and a few times I have shocked people by being early.  It feels good.  It is a time-management work in progress.

I recently found a great article with some tips on how to be on time.  Author Dustin Wax shares “10 Ways to Make Yourself More Punctual“.  I am going to incorporate more of these nifty tricks into my routine.  Just FYI, Dustin is also the author of a useful blog The Writer’s Technology Companion.

And, of course, I need to be remember not to let the pendulum swing too far to the other side.  As usual, Gretchen Rubin at the Happiness Project provides excellent perspective, this time for not being too rigid about being on time.  She has the opposite problem of never being tardy, but her advice still brings balance to my quest.

So, not sporting a watch is working for me.  After wearing one for 30 years, its conspicuous absence is like a string tied around my finger, except with less blood flow restriction.  I still have my cuckoo clock, but that does not count, not just because I do not wear it on my wrist, but because it does not actually keep time.  It just keeps ticking, which keeps me clicking (on the keys…)

Now if only I could mail cards to arrive on (or before) the desired date… hhhmmmm, maybe it is that crutch, the calendar…?

where’s the bus?

13 Saturday Jun 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, seasons, Writing

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Okay, so here’s the deal:  that magic big yellow bus stopped coming to my house and now there are extra PEOPLE here.  Every day.  All day.  And every time I sit down at the computer to write something brilliant, someone says “You’re at the computer, AGAIN???”  Which makes me feel like I should play a game with them or something.  Because they grow up so fast.  Then I wander off and see some task that was supposed to be done yesterday, and they ask if they can use their “screen minutes” which are a commodity akin to gold around here.

Coincidentally, I work at the one computer in the house with a fast internet connection;  it could not be their secret evil plan to distract me so they can play a computer game, could it??

I miss the bus.

I miss the writing.

I need a new routine.

Anyhoo, back to business around here.  There is a book to give away.  You may already know that lots of blogs do regular giveaways.  I’ve won three books from blog giveaways in the last couple months, and I don’t enter that often.  Maybe three times?  These cool blogs usually also make a clear point of the technologically superior and ultimately equitable computer program used to chose the winner (the Randomizer! Randomcount.com! the Randalamadingdong!)  I imagine this cuts down on their hate mail from the losers non-winners by making it clear that the blogger plays fair.

So I offered my very first blogging giveaway this week — a copy of the book Get Known Before the Book Deal by Christina Katz.  I hoped to encourage lots of thought-provoking and intelligent questions for Christina to cover in the follow-up Q&A.  It would be a bummer to invite a famous author to a party and then have no one show up.  It worked!  The questions were great and we all learned something new.  I also secretly hoped that the promise of free goods would lure some of the Lurkers out of hiding and into the open to take part in all the fun and frolic that goes on here.  I think I may have to give away a Weber grill to do that.  Food for thought.

But here’s the deal: I do not know how to use the Randomizer.  It sounds like an Abdominizer, or a Lobotimizer.  So I used some folded yellow sticky notes, and a kid that has been here ALL DAY pulled the name out of an actual hat.  Sounds random to me.

And the winner is…….  Judy!  It is quite fitting that Judy be the Truly Randomly Chosen Winner since she left one of my very first comments, ever, back when I had three readers, and she had never met me in her life.  So Judy, send me your mailing address and the book will be yours!

Send me a bus and I’ll put people on it!

No, that is so not true.  I love all those people to the moon and back.  I am so lucky to have the opportunity and flexibility to be here with them all summer.  Though I might consider getting on that bus myself if I had a new laptop.  I’d only be gone a little while.

Maybe I can win one from a blog…?

serendipity strikes again

29 Friday May 2009

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Some of you have been following along as I begin this journey to become a fully-functioning, income-producing, awe-inspiring (I just added that part), happiness-searching… Writer.  The publishing world may be a tough nut to crack, but there are encouraging people along the way to help even newbies like me.  Today I am thrilled to be featured as the guest blogger on Jane Friedman’s Writer’s Digest blog, There Are No Rules.  Jane Friedman is the Publisher and Editorial Director for the Writer’s Digest Writing Community.

I’m one step away from hyperventilating, but in a happy, grateful way.

Serendipity, indeed.

root ripping, road tripping, but no cow tipping

29 Friday May 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, Writing

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I have roots.

I’m not referring to the roots we all have, the ‘Alex Haley 70’s miniseries about his ancestors‘ kind of roots, although I was back home visiting those as well.  I am talking about the emotional roots that tie me to a certain place, a place where people love me and I love them.  Now, that place is whatever place my children and husband happen to be.

Pulling out of the driveway last weekend, heading out alone on a trip I really wanted to take, I could feel the roots pulling out of the ground as the car lurched over the curb.  The roots ripped clear, and it hurt.  It happens every time.  Sigh.  During the drive to the airport, I struggled to find an emotional wet paper towel to wrap around them until I could get to Wisconsin.

Once on the plane, I tucked my roots safely under the seat with my tray-table and seat-back in their upright and locked position.  The nice stewardess flight safety specialist (what are they called now?) gave me a warm chocolate chip cookie, which helped.

After landing in Wisconsin, and the drive to the area where I grew up, I face the trick:  my roots feel comfortable there, and they want to sink down deep once again where my parents are.  And near my dear sister and her family.  But then I have to rip them out all over again for the road trip back to my Now Home.

Tricky.

So I spent several wonderful days there, roots heeled in to the ground only miles from where my great-great-grandparents, great-grandparents and grandparents also lived.  It is a beautiful area of the state, with rolling hills and a big lake.  My ancestors from both sides of my family arrived from Germany to this area in 1850 or so, and the towns still reflect the hard work of those immigrants.  By my generation, most people did not speak German in the home, but this article from NPR provides some interesting background on the German influence in the area.  The town mentioned is an hour or two from my tiny hometown, but it is similar in many ways to the place I grew from.

On a less historical note, here is one quote from the weekend:

“Apple pie without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze.”  Because, you know, June IS dairy month.  I love that place!

When people (from other parts of the country, clearly) find out where I’m from, they sometimes joke about cows, and ask about ‘cow tipping’.  Hmmm.  I never tipped a cow, nor do I think I knew anyone that tipped cows. (Did I, folks?)  It sounds like something our buddies at MythBusters should look into, an urban myth dissing Elsie and all her fine bovine friends.  Don’t try to tip a cow, that’s today’s rule of thumb.

As expected, I felt like a college freshman again when it came time to say goodbye and give the you-know-whats a good rip.  I wrapped them up and considered myself lucky that I have two places that feel so much like home.

if I had a dollar for each time…

28 Thursday May 2009

Posted by in something important, I'm sure, Writing

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Yesterday was a milestone day for me — this blog zoomed right past the 5,000 hit mark!  I am very grateful that so many people stop by (either accidentally or on purpose) to read my little stories.  I suspect my sister may account for about 1,000 of the blog visits, as she is and has always been my biggest fan and most loyal supporter of my every endeavor.  Maybe other readers are drawn into the whole dog/cat dichotomy.  It’s hard to tell.  Either way, it is much, much, much more fun with readers and comments, so keep those cyber cards and letters coming!

One amusing aspect of the wordpress blog statistics is the list I receive of search engine terms that landed people onto jane, candid.  People type interesting things into their google-type search engine of choice, and as you know, you never know what will come up in any given search.  Here is how some people found this site just today:

noo Gilligan’s Island

clown shoes

iris and her girlfriend carry

kids swimwear 2009

nicest way to say “scaredy pants”

I imagine all these folks were surprised to land here, since other than clown shoes and scaredy-pants, I don’t think I ever mentioned those other topics of interest, and my posts likely did not answer their burning questions.  More surprised are the many people who search “pre-wash cycle” in the sincere hope of technical dishwasher advice, and instead find photos of my dog licking off the dirty dishes while the cat watches in disgust.  Googlers, beware.

I love doing this blog and I hope the stories can keep you entertained for 5,000 more visits. (That’s cumulative, I don’t expect any of you to come back 5,000 more times.  Except maybe my dear, much-loved sister.)