Kaylee Baldwin's Blog, page 14
June 13, 2011
Jumping Back to High School
Not literally (although my ten year reunion is this year, so I will be back shortly) but I mean with my reading.
I read way many more young adult books now than I did when I was in high school. I read a ton, then, but it was always adult books that I stole off of my mom's bookshelf.
Recently, I had a conversation with a few friends about books they read in high school, and of course the conversation turned to what we all had to read in out English classes. I realized that my English classes must have been reading some interesting things (AP, nuff said), so I hadn't read a lot of the "normal" classics that weren't touched in my college English courses (the many, many that I took.)
So my quest is to read all those classics from high school English that I never read while actually in high school. I just read A Tale of Two Cities for the first time (loved it, although a little wordy, but what did I expect with Dickens?) And now I'm reading 1984.
Did you read YA in high school?
What other classic suggestions do you have for me that you read in high school?
I read way many more young adult books now than I did when I was in high school. I read a ton, then, but it was always adult books that I stole off of my mom's bookshelf.
Recently, I had a conversation with a few friends about books they read in high school, and of course the conversation turned to what we all had to read in out English classes. I realized that my English classes must have been reading some interesting things (AP, nuff said), so I hadn't read a lot of the "normal" classics that weren't touched in my college English courses (the many, many that I took.)
So my quest is to read all those classics from high school English that I never read while actually in high school. I just read A Tale of Two Cities for the first time (loved it, although a little wordy, but what did I expect with Dickens?) And now I'm reading 1984.
Did you read YA in high school?
What other classic suggestions do you have for me that you read in high school?
June 12, 2011
Contest with Gabriella Lessa
Weronica Janczuk, an agent for Lynn C. Franklin is judging this contest. Go here for the details. We are all posting a love scene from our novels. Here is one of my favorites from my new ms, Falling.
Name: Kaylee BaldwinTitle: FallingGenre: Contemporary YAEntry word count: 726 wordsManuscript word cout: 75 KLink #: 16
I'd love any feedback you have!
Scene: Philip's whole house smelled comforting, like cinnamon and vanilla, wrapped in warmness and peace. I inhaled a deep breath of that feeling, wishing it could remain with me when I went back to my house, back to the loneliness so thick it reeked of mildew. Gabe sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Ricky jumped into the armchair I'd set my sights on, pulling the lever for the footrest before I could make my move, before I could even blink. I sighed and shuffled toward Gabe, sitting as far from him as I could without actually being on the other side of the couch. Philip had run off somewhere once he dropped his dish in the sink, and I pushed down disappointment that he wouldn't be joining us. Lizzie popped the movie in and turned off the lights before lying down on the lush carpet in front of us. I sank further into the leather couch as she found the DVD menu and pushed play. "Thought you might still be cold," Philip murmured in my ear as he sat down on the couch beside me. He draped a worn quilt across my legs, his arm and leg pressing against mine, making it hard for me to breath. I was much closer to him than I probably should've been, but I didn't want Gabe to get the wrong idea if I scooted his way. I pulled the quilt up higher, trying to concentrate on the opening action sequence of the movie. Philip shifted, angling his body toward me just a little bit. The fresh shower scent I'd had a small taste of from his sweatshirt was so much better, stronger, with the real thing sitting beside me. "How do your hands feel?" Philip whispered close to my ear, his warm breath shooting tingles of awareness down my spine. "A little sore, but not too bad." I smirked, knowing that his hands had to be worse off than mine. "How about you?" His shoulder shrugged against mine. "My hands got pretty tough building houses this summer. It's actually my forearms that are killing me." "Shhhhh." Ricky turned to us with a stern expression. "Sorry," I whispered. I pretended to be engrossed in the movie, even when Gabe's gaze lingered on me and Philip before turning back to the show. After a few minutes, Philip's hand brushed against mine where it rested on my leg under the quilt. He turned my palm face-up and ran his finger across the beginnings of new calluses. I knew he had to have felt, or heard, my breathing hitch as he continued to trace the lines in my palm and fingers. "It's hard to believe that these little hands could pull you up so quick," he breathed against my ear, before entwining my small, cold fingers between his large, warm ones. His thumb continued to dance patterns on the top of my hand, causing my blood to rush so fast through my body that I couldn't have paid any attention to the movie if my life had depended on it. Suddenly, Gabe scooted closer to me and slipped his arm around my shoulder. Philip raised an eyebrow, his hand squeezing mine once more before letting go. The room seemed to come back into focus for me again, the sound of squealing cars in the movie, of Philip shifting away from me, of Gabe breathing too close to my ear. What was I doing? I was on a date with Gabe and holding hands with Philip? And hating that he had to let me go? I was possibly one of the worst people in the world at that moment. Philip was Brian's boring friend. And my friend too, but only a friend. I needed to remember this. But, really, he wasn't so boring, as I'd found out that morning. And maybe his flirting wasn't horrible all of the time. I forced myself to stop thinking about that, stiffening when Gabe began to tickle the little hairs at the back of my neck. Philip must have noticed because he folded his arms and leaned even further away. We're just friends. We're just friends. I chanted it over and over in my mind, but all I could think about was how good it felt when Philip touched me so softly.
Name: Kaylee BaldwinTitle: FallingGenre: Contemporary YAEntry word count: 726 wordsManuscript word cout: 75 KLink #: 16
I'd love any feedback you have!
Scene: Philip's whole house smelled comforting, like cinnamon and vanilla, wrapped in warmness and peace. I inhaled a deep breath of that feeling, wishing it could remain with me when I went back to my house, back to the loneliness so thick it reeked of mildew. Gabe sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Ricky jumped into the armchair I'd set my sights on, pulling the lever for the footrest before I could make my move, before I could even blink. I sighed and shuffled toward Gabe, sitting as far from him as I could without actually being on the other side of the couch. Philip had run off somewhere once he dropped his dish in the sink, and I pushed down disappointment that he wouldn't be joining us. Lizzie popped the movie in and turned off the lights before lying down on the lush carpet in front of us. I sank further into the leather couch as she found the DVD menu and pushed play. "Thought you might still be cold," Philip murmured in my ear as he sat down on the couch beside me. He draped a worn quilt across my legs, his arm and leg pressing against mine, making it hard for me to breath. I was much closer to him than I probably should've been, but I didn't want Gabe to get the wrong idea if I scooted his way. I pulled the quilt up higher, trying to concentrate on the opening action sequence of the movie. Philip shifted, angling his body toward me just a little bit. The fresh shower scent I'd had a small taste of from his sweatshirt was so much better, stronger, with the real thing sitting beside me. "How do your hands feel?" Philip whispered close to my ear, his warm breath shooting tingles of awareness down my spine. "A little sore, but not too bad." I smirked, knowing that his hands had to be worse off than mine. "How about you?" His shoulder shrugged against mine. "My hands got pretty tough building houses this summer. It's actually my forearms that are killing me." "Shhhhh." Ricky turned to us with a stern expression. "Sorry," I whispered. I pretended to be engrossed in the movie, even when Gabe's gaze lingered on me and Philip before turning back to the show. After a few minutes, Philip's hand brushed against mine where it rested on my leg under the quilt. He turned my palm face-up and ran his finger across the beginnings of new calluses. I knew he had to have felt, or heard, my breathing hitch as he continued to trace the lines in my palm and fingers. "It's hard to believe that these little hands could pull you up so quick," he breathed against my ear, before entwining my small, cold fingers between his large, warm ones. His thumb continued to dance patterns on the top of my hand, causing my blood to rush so fast through my body that I couldn't have paid any attention to the movie if my life had depended on it. Suddenly, Gabe scooted closer to me and slipped his arm around my shoulder. Philip raised an eyebrow, his hand squeezing mine once more before letting go. The room seemed to come back into focus for me again, the sound of squealing cars in the movie, of Philip shifting away from me, of Gabe breathing too close to my ear. What was I doing? I was on a date with Gabe and holding hands with Philip? And hating that he had to let me go? I was possibly one of the worst people in the world at that moment. Philip was Brian's boring friend. And my friend too, but only a friend. I needed to remember this. But, really, he wasn't so boring, as I'd found out that morning. And maybe his flirting wasn't horrible all of the time. I forced myself to stop thinking about that, stiffening when Gabe began to tickle the little hairs at the back of my neck. Philip must have noticed because he folded his arms and leaned even further away. We're just friends. We're just friends. I chanted it over and over in my mind, but all I could think about was how good it felt when Philip touched me so softly.
June 11, 2011
I heart my Kindle
Why?
New reason #1-- Maybe I'm seriously behind the times here, but did you know that you can loan out books on your Kindle? I went to the Manage My Kindle page to clean up my library and noticed the "Loan this book" tab. Not all books are available for loan, but most of mine were. And one of my best friends just got a Kindle for her B-day, so now we can loan our books to each other instead of me just giving her my Kindle for a week (I really trust this girl, but missed my Kindle when she had it)
New reason #2--I went to Net Galleys (check this site out if you review books, it is awesome) yesterday to get an arc of a book I was asked to review, and they sent it right to my Kindle. And it turned out to be an awesome book that I stayed up past midnight to finish. I'll be a part of a blog tour in about a month, so look for my review.
New reason #1-- Maybe I'm seriously behind the times here, but did you know that you can loan out books on your Kindle? I went to the Manage My Kindle page to clean up my library and noticed the "Loan this book" tab. Not all books are available for loan, but most of mine were. And one of my best friends just got a Kindle for her B-day, so now we can loan our books to each other instead of me just giving her my Kindle for a week (I really trust this girl, but missed my Kindle when she had it)
New reason #2--I went to Net Galleys (check this site out if you review books, it is awesome) yesterday to get an arc of a book I was asked to review, and they sent it right to my Kindle. And it turned out to be an awesome book that I stayed up past midnight to finish. I'll be a part of a blog tour in about a month, so look for my review.
June 9, 2011
No Patience
My computer is driving me INSANE!!!!
It is taking forever to load pages, open files, search on google, get into blogger. And forget trying to comment on people's blogs.
Then last night--Word froze up on me, and of course I hadn't saved in an hour, and I lost a lot of what I'd written. Without auto recovery, my computer would probably be in a very sad place right now.
I can feel my heart-rate skyrocketing to unhealthy proportions this afternoon waiting for my computer to load things, so I decided to time myself and see how long I could go wait for page to load without getting antsy.
Five seconds.
After that, I could barely go another five seconds (so ten seconds total of waiting for a page to load) before giving up and exiting out completely. Sad, but true.
Now to begin the campaign to convince the hubs that a new computer is a necessity.
It is taking forever to load pages, open files, search on google, get into blogger. And forget trying to comment on people's blogs.
Then last night--Word froze up on me, and of course I hadn't saved in an hour, and I lost a lot of what I'd written. Without auto recovery, my computer would probably be in a very sad place right now.
I can feel my heart-rate skyrocketing to unhealthy proportions this afternoon waiting for my computer to load things, so I decided to time myself and see how long I could go wait for page to load without getting antsy.
Five seconds.
After that, I could barely go another five seconds (so ten seconds total of waiting for a page to load) before giving up and exiting out completely. Sad, but true.
Now to begin the campaign to convince the hubs that a new computer is a necessity.
June 8, 2011
How I find time to write
One of the most frequently asked questions I get is how I find time to write with my three kids and church stuff I usually have going on. Sometimes I stay up really late, get a babysitter for a few hours, convince my husband to play Mr. Mom on the weekends, but those things don't happen very often. Instead, I have to find little chunks of time throughout my week, which means giving up something else that used to fill that time.
A few things I've had to give up so I have time to write...
Television.* Folding Laundry. Really, why does it need to be folded, if we are just going to wear it within a couple of days anyway?Scrapbooking. Thank goodness for digital albums, or else my kids pics would still be on a roll of film in a box somewhere, I'm sure.Most of my hobbies. I have been working on an afghan for two years, I have two quilt tops done that need batting and backing and tying, and a Welcome Bear I've been painting outfits to go with each month—still have a few outfits left to paint. I work on a little bit every time I get a chance, but at this rate, it's going to be another couple of years before I'm finished with any of them.**Exercising at the gym. I go for a walk every morning to get out of the house and see my friends/walking buddies, but I've given up going to the gym I'm already paying for with my HOA fees. The only time I could get down there without kids is in the evening and that is prime writing time.Naps. *Except for Bachelor/ette because everyone needs some veg time in the week**Since I only work on these things while I'm watching Bachelor/ette--heaven forbid I just sit and relax. :)
The next question... Is it worth it? YES!
Are there things you've had to give up in order to find time to write?
A few things I've had to give up so I have time to write...
Television.* Folding Laundry. Really, why does it need to be folded, if we are just going to wear it within a couple of days anyway?Scrapbooking. Thank goodness for digital albums, or else my kids pics would still be on a roll of film in a box somewhere, I'm sure.Most of my hobbies. I have been working on an afghan for two years, I have two quilt tops done that need batting and backing and tying, and a Welcome Bear I've been painting outfits to go with each month—still have a few outfits left to paint. I work on a little bit every time I get a chance, but at this rate, it's going to be another couple of years before I'm finished with any of them.**Exercising at the gym. I go for a walk every morning to get out of the house and see my friends/walking buddies, but I've given up going to the gym I'm already paying for with my HOA fees. The only time I could get down there without kids is in the evening and that is prime writing time.Naps. *Except for Bachelor/ette because everyone needs some veg time in the week**Since I only work on these things while I'm watching Bachelor/ette--heaven forbid I just sit and relax. :)
The next question... Is it worth it? YES!
Are there things you've had to give up in order to find time to write?
June 6, 2011
When we want to quit
For Memorial Day some friends of ours went with me and my husband on a 5K Mud Run (er, walk). And what a reality check this 5K mud run/walk really was for me. I go walking almost three miles everyday--pushing my two kids (30lbs each) in a double stroller--so I thought it would be no problem.
Wrong.
After standing in the relentless AZ heat for almost an hour just waiting for our start time, I was a little dehydrated. But still totally pumped. We finally got in line for our turn, counted down from ten, and we were off to a great start.
Until about 100 meters in, I got a side ache. I mean, come on! I knew it was going to be a loooong race after that. (In my defense, I had told my team that I was going to be the weak link. I think they thought I was exaggerating. I was not.)
But, I pushed on, mostly because I was trying to impress my husband--yes, married almost seven years, still trying to trick him into believing that I'm semi-athletic (failing miserably, by the way). All of a sudden everyone was running toward us, yelling that we were all going the wrong way. So we had to turn around, run the quarterish mile to get back on course, then continued. At this point, it turned into a mud walk for me, my pride going out the window when I realized my breakfast was going to be apart of the obstacles for the runners behind me if I kept pushing myself. I even considered stopping, because so far, this mud run? Not so much MUD as endless dirt and thorny shrubs (that I brushed against and got thorns in my legs. Fun times)
About a mile in, we had a water station, then a hose down, then a bouncy house slip and slide, then another water station. And I was a new woman. I could actually jog after getting wet and having some much needed water. They should have had some of those things in the first mile, instead of just having us run in dry dirt in the hot sun, nothing to break it up.
So, as usual, this made me think about my writing. I started out strong in this race, lost momentum when we went the wrong way, got discouraged when it was the same thing over and over for the first mile, and even thought about giving up. But I kept pushing myself forward (mostly because of pride, kind of because I'd paid a lot of money to torture myself like this) and once I got hydrated, ended up having so much fun that I'm going to do it again in September.
Like with our writing, sometimes we lose momentum, hate our beginnings, don't know where we're going, don't know why we're even torturing ourselves like this anyway--no one is making us write and submit and get rejected over and over again--but then you get to that point where it is just fun. Maybe you have to slow down a bit to make it enjoyable again, or maybe you have to just go crazy with your plot and characters and remember that above all, writing is supposed to be FUN or enjoyable or fulfilling. That the more we write, the better we get at it, and when we take a wrong turn, it's not the end of the world, we just have to get back on track.
The point? Don't quit!! Keep pushing yourself forward, remembering why you're writing in the first place, and have fun with it again.
Wrong.
After standing in the relentless AZ heat for almost an hour just waiting for our start time, I was a little dehydrated. But still totally pumped. We finally got in line for our turn, counted down from ten, and we were off to a great start.
Until about 100 meters in, I got a side ache. I mean, come on! I knew it was going to be a loooong race after that. (In my defense, I had told my team that I was going to be the weak link. I think they thought I was exaggerating. I was not.)
But, I pushed on, mostly because I was trying to impress my husband--yes, married almost seven years, still trying to trick him into believing that I'm semi-athletic (failing miserably, by the way). All of a sudden everyone was running toward us, yelling that we were all going the wrong way. So we had to turn around, run the quarterish mile to get back on course, then continued. At this point, it turned into a mud walk for me, my pride going out the window when I realized my breakfast was going to be apart of the obstacles for the runners behind me if I kept pushing myself. I even considered stopping, because so far, this mud run? Not so much MUD as endless dirt and thorny shrubs (that I brushed against and got thorns in my legs. Fun times)
About a mile in, we had a water station, then a hose down, then a bouncy house slip and slide, then another water station. And I was a new woman. I could actually jog after getting wet and having some much needed water. They should have had some of those things in the first mile, instead of just having us run in dry dirt in the hot sun, nothing to break it up.
So, as usual, this made me think about my writing. I started out strong in this race, lost momentum when we went the wrong way, got discouraged when it was the same thing over and over for the first mile, and even thought about giving up. But I kept pushing myself forward (mostly because of pride, kind of because I'd paid a lot of money to torture myself like this) and once I got hydrated, ended up having so much fun that I'm going to do it again in September.
Like with our writing, sometimes we lose momentum, hate our beginnings, don't know where we're going, don't know why we're even torturing ourselves like this anyway--no one is making us write and submit and get rejected over and over again--but then you get to that point where it is just fun. Maybe you have to slow down a bit to make it enjoyable again, or maybe you have to just go crazy with your plot and characters and remember that above all, writing is supposed to be FUN or enjoyable or fulfilling. That the more we write, the better we get at it, and when we take a wrong turn, it's not the end of the world, we just have to get back on track.
The point? Don't quit!! Keep pushing yourself forward, remembering why you're writing in the first place, and have fun with it again.
June 2, 2011
What is scarier than submitting to an agent?
Having teenagers read the skit you wrote for them to perform at church camp.
Not kidding. I am the girls camp director for my ward and part of my duty is to get a 8-10 minute skit for them to act out on skit night. So instead of googling a previously written skit, I got an idea that I really liked, so I wrote the skit for them. I loved the finished product, but when it came time for me to print out copies of it to give to the girls for practice, I started freaking out a little.
What if they don't like it?
What if they mock it?
What if they don't want to do it?
Since I only had minutes to print out the skit and get to my meeting, I didn't have time to back out at this point, and just took what I had. I gave it to the girls and told them that they could ad lib in any [appropriate] way that they wanted (this is church camp, after all). And the result? Hilarious. These girls are so funny and fun and positive, and they were awesome in the skit. Sure, it's not the rap we did last year, but we've gotta mix things up now and then (although, one of the girls--the villain--did say her lines as a rap and it was perfect.)
I think it's scarier having people I know read something I've written than having complete strangers read it. If strangers reject me, whatev. Yes, I'm bummed when I get rejected, but I never have to see the rejecter. So I get rejected once and move on. With people I know, I have to see them at church, the pool, the grocery store, our kids' schools, always remembering....
How do you feel about sharing your writing with people you know?
Not kidding. I am the girls camp director for my ward and part of my duty is to get a 8-10 minute skit for them to act out on skit night. So instead of googling a previously written skit, I got an idea that I really liked, so I wrote the skit for them. I loved the finished product, but when it came time for me to print out copies of it to give to the girls for practice, I started freaking out a little.
What if they don't like it?
What if they mock it?
What if they don't want to do it?
Since I only had minutes to print out the skit and get to my meeting, I didn't have time to back out at this point, and just took what I had. I gave it to the girls and told them that they could ad lib in any [appropriate] way that they wanted (this is church camp, after all). And the result? Hilarious. These girls are so funny and fun and positive, and they were awesome in the skit. Sure, it's not the rap we did last year, but we've gotta mix things up now and then (although, one of the girls--the villain--did say her lines as a rap and it was perfect.)
I think it's scarier having people I know read something I've written than having complete strangers read it. If strangers reject me, whatev. Yes, I'm bummed when I get rejected, but I never have to see the rejecter. So I get rejected once and move on. With people I know, I have to see them at church, the pool, the grocery store, our kids' schools, always remembering....
How do you feel about sharing your writing with people you know?
May 26, 2011
It's Clean
No, not my manuscript.
My house.
I've also made two new recipes this week, organized my kids' toys, did window treatments in my son's room, and folded insane amounts of laundry this week.
I get really motivated to be productive around the house when I have edits I should be doing. Suddenly the dishes don't seem so bad when the alternative is ripping apart my manuscript, the carefully piecing it back together.
I used to do this in school. My family always knew when I had a paper due, because suddenly my house was cleaner than ever. It's the only time cleaning is actually the happier alternative to anything else.
Okay, now I've updated my blog. I should probably stop stalling and get to work.
My house.
I've also made two new recipes this week, organized my kids' toys, did window treatments in my son's room, and folded insane amounts of laundry this week.
I get really motivated to be productive around the house when I have edits I should be doing. Suddenly the dishes don't seem so bad when the alternative is ripping apart my manuscript, the carefully piecing it back together.
I used to do this in school. My family always knew when I had a paper due, because suddenly my house was cleaner than ever. It's the only time cleaning is actually the happier alternative to anything else.
Okay, now I've updated my blog. I should probably stop stalling and get to work.
May 16, 2011
Twitterfied
I've entered the land of Twitter, and I'm not too proud to admit I'm a little lost. I can handle the whole update thing, the hashtag thing is still a little confusing, and if there is anything else Twitter does, I have yet to unlock those secrets.
Look me up at: kayleebaldwin1 and join me as I stumble past my comfort zone into new social technology. (I know I'm in my 20s and this technology stuff should come natural to me, but should and does are two different things.)
Coming up... My report on the Storymakers conference (loved it!)
Look me up at: kayleebaldwin1 and join me as I stumble past my comfort zone into new social technology. (I know I'm in my 20s and this technology stuff should come natural to me, but should and does are two different things.)
Coming up... My report on the Storymakers conference (loved it!)
May 13, 2011
You I Mist!
I think I've mentioned before that my oldest son has Down Syndrome and he has several health problems that go along with this. Because of some recent surgeries he's had, he's missed school and church for over a month. His classes in each made him a book of notes (without knowing that the others were making them) and I received both of them this week.
I wish my scanner wasn't such a pain so that I could scan in the cute little drawings, but what really got to me were the notes that these five and six year olds wrote to my son. He can't understand most of the words but I do. I read through every note and looked at every picture.
The power of a few words is incredible. Some notes say: We love you. You are very strong. You are fun. You are the best. I missed you for a long time. I wish you were not sick. And about 25 more messages for my son.
Then I got to the one that somehow got to me the most.
You I Mist.
Three words. Not spelled correctly. Not good sentence structure. But jam-packed with emotion.
And in those three words, my heart went out to this class who has learned this year that kids their age can get sick and need surgeries and struggle to talk and walk and eat and be like them. And still, they love my son for who he is.
This is part of writing. Finding these emotions and these words with powerful meanings and the people behind the words, and connecting. Connecting in a way that makes a 27 year old mother of a special little boy cry. Connecting in a way that draws us in and makes us feel something. Connecting in a way that reminds us that despite all of our differences, we can still come together through the power of a few words.
I wish my scanner wasn't such a pain so that I could scan in the cute little drawings, but what really got to me were the notes that these five and six year olds wrote to my son. He can't understand most of the words but I do. I read through every note and looked at every picture.
The power of a few words is incredible. Some notes say: We love you. You are very strong. You are fun. You are the best. I missed you for a long time. I wish you were not sick. And about 25 more messages for my son.
Then I got to the one that somehow got to me the most.
You I Mist.
Three words. Not spelled correctly. Not good sentence structure. But jam-packed with emotion.
And in those three words, my heart went out to this class who has learned this year that kids their age can get sick and need surgeries and struggle to talk and walk and eat and be like them. And still, they love my son for who he is.
This is part of writing. Finding these emotions and these words with powerful meanings and the people behind the words, and connecting. Connecting in a way that makes a 27 year old mother of a special little boy cry. Connecting in a way that draws us in and makes us feel something. Connecting in a way that reminds us that despite all of our differences, we can still come together through the power of a few words.
