Dixie Dawn Miller Goode's Blog, page 14
August 30, 2011
Completed the Goodreads Giveaway and logged into Pottermore
This summer has been a busy one, as an author, a Mom, a Harry Potter Fan. I'm sure that I have been driving people batty with my constant chatter about my having completed my second Duffy Barkley novel, and having been involved in a book giveaway contest on Goodreads in the hopes that a few more people would hear about my book and maybe the winners would give me a good review or a like somewhere, as that seems to be better than gold in the writerly mind.
I posted about the competition, and kept checking on it, hoping at first that I'd get even 100 people who cared enough to fill in their address and enter. 100 more people knowing about my Fantasies and even expressing interest, that could not be a bad thing. So I was waiting and surprised when the number crept up to 300/
Then the other waiting, and refreshing pages, and driving my friends to distraction, had to do with Pottermore, and my insistence that if it was from JK Rowling, It had to be good.I started on Harry's July 31, birthday, spending sleepless nights, chatting on twitter with other like-minded, sleep deprived hopefuls and managed to find the magic quill that unlocked the invitation to be one in a million Beta testes on the opening of the site before it goes public in October.
But then nothing. Just waiting for my "owl" the invite to begin, and that email kept not coming, even as I chaffed at the bit and joined the #NoOwlParty on Twitter/
and in the wonderful, real world, where, more important than anything, I am a Mom, to a recent High School grad. and a soon to start Senior Year, son - life was moving too fast. The kids who had been in and out of our home for years were fading out of town to colleges and jobs and life needed to hit a pause where I could say, "Hey, It's been great, and sure it's changing, but we are still together, supporting and loving you."
So I managed to throw together a long weekend up at Howard Prairie Lake with family and friends. We swam, and told bad jokes and hiked and boated and got filthy and stank of sweat and campfire smoke, and came home filled with fresh air and light.
Angel Fire
I took this picture of the kids by campfire and lantern light and found angels hovering near-by.
Morning View from my tent
It was 40 degrees hotter, and 4,700 feet higher in elevation than where I live, and it made me puff and pant for every breath when I tried to be active, unless I was in the water. But every aching calf muscle is so worth it.
The way the light sifted down through the dark forest and illuminated this little infant tree was glorious!
I didn't get an owl, bringing me my invite to Hogwart's but this little Chip or Dale sure tried to get the message through to my ice chest that he was hungry.
Mt. McLoughlin over Howard Prairie Lake
Then when I finally came home, refreshed and happy and back in touch with what mattered, I found that 503 people had entered the giveaway and The ones who won were from across the United States and one in Great Britain. So today I was glad to get 10 books sent out, to the five winners, each getting both Duffy Barkley books and my best wishes.
Been waiting on an owl to Bring me my Pottermore Welcome.
And with the teacher's back to work, and the young adults beginning new careers and starting college I decided I would have time to pick blackberries and raid the farmer's market and bake pies
BUT my OWL Came!!!
And Here IT IS!!
So suddenly I had no time, staying up all night and blearily exploring pottermore. It is a strange blend of new and interesting reads about the characters and places I love in Harry potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, and very simple old school, preschool video games which remind me of 15 years ago when my kids were playing fisher price castle and pirate computer games, looking for map pieces instead of the chocolate frog cards and galleon coins I am searching for now. I am an adult - but pottermore brings me a very childish delight as I get my Owl and my wand and
My Wand, proof I'm not a Muggle, just a Potterhead.
Got Sorted into Hufflepuff where you can find me, if you look for StarDawn199
Author of Duffy Barkley: Seek Well but currently seeking the formerly untold Ghost Plots of JK Rowling
August 25, 2011
Goodreads giveaway
Caesar, a green wing macaw
I have not written here this last couple of weeks as I planned. There has been a death in the family, as I write about at my other blog, Echo's Voice.
Yet I wanted to share that I am giving away 5 sets of my Duffy Barkley Novels through Goodreads.com and I wanted you to have a chance to enter before the contest ends on August 27th
http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sho...
So I am posting the link and some of my pictures and calling that good enough this time. The pictures are from my home area or from a trip to Guatemala that is featured in the second book, Duffy Barkley: Seek Well
Blind man's bluff in Guatemala
My brother and I in Guatemala
Smith River, CA
Jed Smith State Park
My son's puppy was wore out playing at the river
Patrick's Creek
Cold enough to take your breath, warm enough to stay in for hours
Ever Green
Sunset from my Porch
Enjoy the end of summer, and I'll be back soon.
August 13, 2011
Choosing Happiness While Writing in Summer
Water under the bridge
I have to admit that I often write less when I am happy. I feel my satisfaction in the life I am living and try to escape it less, or to understand what is not working less. When life is good, I relax and enjoy it unless I force myself into anti-procrastination mode and make myself sit at the keyboard or drag a pen nib across the spiral notebook pages while I am at the beach or river.
Soaking in Greyback Creek
This August has been a peaceful, busy, happy time for me, and therefor it has not been very productive. I have been selling some of my novels and doing a book giveaway on goodreads at http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sho...
but I have mostly been having company, my sister-in-law and her familya girl I was best friends with 30 years ago in High School and her familya boy and his Mom who are non-blood family nevertheless
And being with friends who are tourists to our area has given me the excuse to play tourist myself and visit the places which lured me into moving here 22 years ago anyway.
Brookings Harbor
Brown pelican
So I have been enjoying the cool summer weather of the coast and even though I signed up for CampNanoWriMo with every intention of writing another 50,000 words in August, I have failed in that. Most of my writing has been twitter feeds and facebook posts and a couple of blogs. But my creative well should have enough of beauty filling it now that it will not soon run dry.
I wrote before about the Mother and baby Grey Whale who moved into the Klamath river. Baby has gone back to sea but the Mama is still here, 54 days later. She has been fascinating and an amazing chance to see such a creature but she is also becoming a concern because her own health depends on her getting back to Alaska, and because the people here are starting to think they know her and trying to swim with her or kayak up to her has become re-occurring issue.
So I am still waiting on my chance to get in to Pottermore as a beta tester for the site, and seeing the school year looming ahead. I know that the summer is winding down, but I have to say it has been a great one.
Spending time in Fern Canyon always leaves a lingering peace in my soul
Ocean World in Crescent City
Babysitting the grand-puppies
Summer Band Camp Concert
August 3, 2011
Pottermore, More Writing,
Ok, I love that I got in to Pottermore as a Beta Tester, but I have to admit that the truth is that as exciting as it is to find new people on twitter who are all going as sleepless as I am, and all as excited as I am, and all trying to find the clues even after they get in, and hating waiting for the "Game ON' -- I would rather be anxiously waiting for a new Potter Book. I am curious about Pottermore, but I want more Potter, much more!
Come on JK Rowling, you can do it. Write a series about the past at Hogwarts, tell us about the years when Tom was a student, and Hagrid, and Dumbledore taught transfiguration. Or the years when Harry's parents and Snape and Serius and Lupine and on and on. Or go into the future and give us the world you hinted at in the end of book 7.
Pick up your magic quill and set the tip onto parchment and begin.
Please.
But!!!
How can I tell you to write when my keyboard has bee used exclusively for refreshing the pottermore page and tweeting? I have a commitment to finish another book in August. Not a Duffy Barkley book this time, but a book about two girls traveling on the Oregon trail, 150 years apart but sometimes able to see each other's journals in the lapdesk that they both own. It is a magical box made by the Pharaoh's carpenter.
Why do I need to write it this month? Because I am signed up to write it during the month of August for CampNaNoWriMo. A month to write 50,000 words. Yep, that NaNoWriMo site is where all my novels are conceived.
Let me share the prologue about the box. From a book tentatively titled, Double Time on the Oregon Trail. Here you go.
Prologue: In the ancient days, of the proud kings of Egypt, dwelt one of the truly great minds of all times. This fine mind was in the body of a common artisan, a craftsman, who slaved to produce the beautiful wooden work which was demanded by the nobles of the Egyptian court. As he carved, and fitted, wooden chairs, and boxes, and tables, and intricate relief figures of all types, he had many quiet hours in which to reflect upon his thoughts. This man lived in a world where everything was kept in its separate place. Each person had their separate role, slave or noble, soldier or teacher. Each part of life had its own God or Goddess, the sun, the earth, the seasons, even the land of the dead. His niche in life was to create wooden art, on order. It was not to think. But still he thought. One day he received a beautiful piece of scented cedar wood. He thought about how the cedar tree is part of many worlds. He thought of its solid trunk standing strong in his world. He thought of its roots reaching thirstily for nourishment into the underworld. He thought of its delicate twigs, anything but steady as they danced on the breezes in their reach through the heavens. As he thought, he carved and polished and found himself crafting an amazingly plain, cedar lined, box with its slanted black ebony top sliding on and off the base along two perfectly grooved tracks. He rubbed the box to a smoothness which pleased his fingers and a sheen which soothed his eyes. He loved the box with is delicate perfume more than any other piece he had ever worked on. Yet he knew that its simplicity would not attract any admiring glances from the nobles who fed and housed him. So he set this one piece of all that he had ever crafted aside for himself. Over time his thoughts often turned toward his idea of unity between many parts of life. While carving the stylized forms of many gods, he longed for One God. While dreaming of the past or wondering about the future, there were moments when his mind jumped with the idea that all times were connected, somehow. While carving falcons, or hounds, papyrus or Pharaohs, he struggled with the idea that all life is one. Sometimes, some little item would seem to speak to him out of its own special power and he would hold it close for awhile, then tuck it away in his box. A special, Nile smoothed stone, a feather gleaming with a purple sheen, a piece of papyrus paper with hieroglyphs he had never learned to read but could almost understand. Sometimes his woodwork went to temples or to the tombs of kings, but the box never left his possession. The kings he served struggled to find ways to preserve their bodies so that they might live forever and this humble woodworker with the scent of cedar in his skin, for all his grand thoughts never guessed that his simple box would travel farther and hold more of life, than all of his other works put together.
Come on JK Rowling, you can do it. Write a series about the past at Hogwarts, tell us about the years when Tom was a student, and Hagrid, and Dumbledore taught transfiguration. Or the years when Harry's parents and Snape and Serius and Lupine and on and on. Or go into the future and give us the world you hinted at in the end of book 7.
Pick up your magic quill and set the tip onto parchment and begin.
Please.
But!!!
How can I tell you to write when my keyboard has bee used exclusively for refreshing the pottermore page and tweeting? I have a commitment to finish another book in August. Not a Duffy Barkley book this time, but a book about two girls traveling on the Oregon trail, 150 years apart but sometimes able to see each other's journals in the lapdesk that they both own. It is a magical box made by the Pharaoh's carpenter.
Why do I need to write it this month? Because I am signed up to write it during the month of August for CampNaNoWriMo. A month to write 50,000 words. Yep, that NaNoWriMo site is where all my novels are conceived.
Let me share the prologue about the box. From a book tentatively titled, Double Time on the Oregon Trail. Here you go.
Prologue: In the ancient days, of the proud kings of Egypt, dwelt one of the truly great minds of all times. This fine mind was in the body of a common artisan, a craftsman, who slaved to produce the beautiful wooden work which was demanded by the nobles of the Egyptian court. As he carved, and fitted, wooden chairs, and boxes, and tables, and intricate relief figures of all types, he had many quiet hours in which to reflect upon his thoughts. This man lived in a world where everything was kept in its separate place. Each person had their separate role, slave or noble, soldier or teacher. Each part of life had its own God or Goddess, the sun, the earth, the seasons, even the land of the dead. His niche in life was to create wooden art, on order. It was not to think. But still he thought. One day he received a beautiful piece of scented cedar wood. He thought about how the cedar tree is part of many worlds. He thought of its solid trunk standing strong in his world. He thought of its roots reaching thirstily for nourishment into the underworld. He thought of its delicate twigs, anything but steady as they danced on the breezes in their reach through the heavens. As he thought, he carved and polished and found himself crafting an amazingly plain, cedar lined, box with its slanted black ebony top sliding on and off the base along two perfectly grooved tracks. He rubbed the box to a smoothness which pleased his fingers and a sheen which soothed his eyes. He loved the box with is delicate perfume more than any other piece he had ever worked on. Yet he knew that its simplicity would not attract any admiring glances from the nobles who fed and housed him. So he set this one piece of all that he had ever crafted aside for himself. Over time his thoughts often turned toward his idea of unity between many parts of life. While carving the stylized forms of many gods, he longed for One God. While dreaming of the past or wondering about the future, there were moments when his mind jumped with the idea that all times were connected, somehow. While carving falcons, or hounds, papyrus or Pharaohs, he struggled with the idea that all life is one. Sometimes, some little item would seem to speak to him out of its own special power and he would hold it close for awhile, then tuck it away in his box. A special, Nile smoothed stone, a feather gleaming with a purple sheen, a piece of papyrus paper with hieroglyphs he had never learned to read but could almost understand. Sometimes his woodwork went to temples or to the tombs of kings, but the box never left his possession. The kings he served struggled to find ways to preserve their bodies so that they might live forever and this humble woodworker with the scent of cedar in his skin, for all his grand thoughts never guessed that his simple box would travel farther and hold more of life, than all of his other works put together.
August 1, 2011
Pottermore, more or less. I Got IN!
I am 48 years old, and as matronly and flaming haired and hot-tempered as Mrs. Weasley. Far too old to be staying up, hanging on twitter and clicking the refresh button with the kids. But that is exactly what I was doing last night, or rather, early this morning.
I went to the drive-in movie, where a double feature of Pirates of the Caribbean and African Cats was playing for $10 a carload - But I had to leave after the first movie in order to be home by midnight. My husband and sons love Harry potter too, but it was just me, obsessing on getting the magical quill to write my name in the book.
Then I logged on to the computer, assuming the new clue would load at midnight, I worried that the registrations would be used up long before it was today in California. I had already missed my chance to get in on day 1, when the clue was knowing how many types of owls were on sale in book 1.
I had my copy of the Sorcerer's Stone beside me. Knowing that each of the seven days clues would come from the correspondingly numbered book, was a detail we'd been given.
I logged in a separate page and entered the first part of the web address, which we'd also been given, so that I could simply add the numbers from the clue and hit search. Then at 11:59 I tried to entered, only to find the message, "Day 1's clues are no longer available." I hit refresh for the first of many times. That stubborn message didn't change! The date did, but it brought no clue with it.
Finally, I opened another window and logged in to twitter and searched #pottermore. A rapidly changing conversation greeted me, as people all over the world, far ahead of me in sleep deprivation, asked the same questions and tried the spell, "Accio Clue"
I found myself intrigued by these fellow book nerds and added several to follow. And I kept hitting the refresh button. We chatted about Potter memories and made jokes and dreaded the sleep deprived day to follow, but every time I told myself to go to bed, I stayed. After All, I probably never would have dared to write my Duffy Barkley is Not a Dog and Duffy Barkley: Seek Well if I had not fallen in love with Harry's world first. He is big on my list of life events.
So, I waited and refreshed, and then at 2:00 Pacific time, the screen changed and the clue was revealed to be, the number of the chapter when Harry learns from McGonagal, that the Quidditch match has been cancelled, times 42. I added 588 to the web address and it wouldn't budge, then my son strolled through and suggested I try it in a different window. It went to a Warner Bros. page, mostly black with music playing and it stayed there. I knew my answer was right, I waited for the screen to load, but how could I find a quill with a black screen?
Back to Twitter to see that some people had already found it, give up waiting, hit refresh several times and pictures load, among the pictures, the quill was obvious, click on it!
Permission granted to register, fill in the details, get a choice of one of 4 usernames and wait for the email! It does not come, finally say good-night to twitter, crawl in to bed at 3 and wake up three hours later. The email is in my inbox! Click the link, and verify - but am I in? Yes! Can I play?? No, now awaiting another email. Still waiting.
Hopefully I get in before the general admission in October, but while I'm waiting maybe I should throw in some laundry, and stock up on food and get some exercise. Last chance to live my life before immersion.
I went to the drive-in movie, where a double feature of Pirates of the Caribbean and African Cats was playing for $10 a carload - But I had to leave after the first movie in order to be home by midnight. My husband and sons love Harry potter too, but it was just me, obsessing on getting the magical quill to write my name in the book.
Then I logged on to the computer, assuming the new clue would load at midnight, I worried that the registrations would be used up long before it was today in California. I had already missed my chance to get in on day 1, when the clue was knowing how many types of owls were on sale in book 1.
I had my copy of the Sorcerer's Stone beside me. Knowing that each of the seven days clues would come from the correspondingly numbered book, was a detail we'd been given.
I logged in a separate page and entered the first part of the web address, which we'd also been given, so that I could simply add the numbers from the clue and hit search. Then at 11:59 I tried to entered, only to find the message, "Day 1's clues are no longer available." I hit refresh for the first of many times. That stubborn message didn't change! The date did, but it brought no clue with it.
Finally, I opened another window and logged in to twitter and searched #pottermore. A rapidly changing conversation greeted me, as people all over the world, far ahead of me in sleep deprivation, asked the same questions and tried the spell, "Accio Clue"
I found myself intrigued by these fellow book nerds and added several to follow. And I kept hitting the refresh button. We chatted about Potter memories and made jokes and dreaded the sleep deprived day to follow, but every time I told myself to go to bed, I stayed. After All, I probably never would have dared to write my Duffy Barkley is Not a Dog and Duffy Barkley: Seek Well if I had not fallen in love with Harry's world first. He is big on my list of life events.
So, I waited and refreshed, and then at 2:00 Pacific time, the screen changed and the clue was revealed to be, the number of the chapter when Harry learns from McGonagal, that the Quidditch match has been cancelled, times 42. I added 588 to the web address and it wouldn't budge, then my son strolled through and suggested I try it in a different window. It went to a Warner Bros. page, mostly black with music playing and it stayed there. I knew my answer was right, I waited for the screen to load, but how could I find a quill with a black screen?
Back to Twitter to see that some people had already found it, give up waiting, hit refresh several times and pictures load, among the pictures, the quill was obvious, click on it!
Permission granted to register, fill in the details, get a choice of one of 4 usernames and wait for the email! It does not come, finally say good-night to twitter, crawl in to bed at 3 and wake up three hours later. The email is in my inbox! Click the link, and verify - but am I in? Yes! Can I play?? No, now awaiting another email. Still waiting.
Hopefully I get in before the general admission in October, but while I'm waiting maybe I should throw in some laundry, and stock up on food and get some exercise. Last chance to live my life before immersion.
July 27, 2011
Grey Whale Watching and Klamath Jet Boat Riding
Have to show my books again :)
Love this puppy
Grey Mom Whale in Klamath RiverThis week I did not write, except I also did not feel guilty. Publishing a book will ease the guilt for at least a few weeks! Also, we usually drive 3,000 miles every summer, visiting family. This time they came to visit us and we did the tourist thing right here on our own coast. That turned out to be perfect as a mom and calf Grey Whale also came to visit and stayed in the klamath River since June 24.
Lots of youTube videos about Klamath whales
We went on the Klamath Jet boat tour which allowed us to see the whales, but also fawns, seals, river otter, pelicans, and eagles and osprey galore.
People lining bridge to see whale
Bald Eagle
Twins
Spinning the Klamath Jet Boat
Whale spouting
Sea Stack on Cape SebastionWe also did some beach walking with my sister-in-law while others went fishing, and we do have lovely beaches, usually cold and windy, but the weather was gifting us with one of the rare calm, warm days of the summer.
Tide pool
Harbor seal at Ocean WorldWe went to the small, local aquarium, "Ocean World" It used to be "Undersea World" but the giant "Sea World" sued and made them change their name. They are small but let you pet their leopard sharks and tide pool creatures and they have some fascinating creatures. They survived our March Tsunami even though the harbor they draw water from was demolished.
Sea lion
The Husband and IJust so you know, the writer part of me was only recharging. I have to remind you that there are two Duffy Barkley novels available, in paperback or for your kindle.
Amazon's Dixie Dawn Miller Goode Page is ready! You can view it at:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004458ES2
Duffy Barkley is Not a Dog https://www.createspace.com/3450238
Seek Well https://www.createspace.com/3649425
July 14, 2011
Dare to say Yes to a Dream
I have been blessed with the time to be able to write, while also having a job that allows me to be around school kids and spend a lot of time talking with them about what they are interested in and reading the books that they like as part of my work.
Since I also love to write books at the middle school level and higher, and my novels are fantasy novels that interest several kids in any class I am teaching, this has given me a lot of feedback and stimulated new story lines to develop.
Once school ended on June 16th, I was able to pull my nearly completed, second novel out of the ignored folder it slept in, and bring it to a conclusion. Today, I got the proof copy to hold in my hands and evaluate for possible publication.
I set it next to the book I published last year, and smiled. I only hope they both bring other people some of the joy that they have already given to me.
Both my Tales of uhrlin
Back covers
Look at the double books please, not the double chinsI became a special Ed teacher, after being raised with a younger brother, who has down's syndrome. I also had been bullied a lot as a student myself and the experiences I have had as a teacher and family member of a special needs kid, and as a victim of bullies, are both a large part of the framework of these novels. But my Duffy, a boy who has Cerebral Palsy, and is bullied, is not handicapped or willing to be a victim. He won't accept the word, "No."
My Brother and I in Panajachel, Guatemala
Boating in Lake Atitlan, bullrushes One of the most pleasurable parts of writing, Duffy Barkley: Seek Well has been the chance to review my journal and photographs and memories from a trip that my boys, my brother, my Mom and I took to Guatemala.
When you read this story, you will see a lot of the things that I loved about this poor, war-torn but lovely area around Lake Atitlan.
My son, teaching Duck, Duck Goose to Mayan childrenYou will also get to meet a character, who was first suggested to me as a challenge, while trying to write the first 50,000 words of this novel as part of National Novel Writing Month. I love Fred, he loves baths, and he thinks he's a small, pop-eyed micro monkey. Duffy thinks he's a Dragon, but neither one is right.
Mayan girls and my youngest son
Mayan Grandmother and my oldest son
By Lake Atitlan
Posada de Santiago Atitlan So, my dream was to be a Writer. Like Duffy, I refused to accept the many times I was told "No." I'm glad that I did. The bullies lose if we refuse to be victims, and instead insist on our right to be who we dream.
Lake Atitlan
Since I also love to write books at the middle school level and higher, and my novels are fantasy novels that interest several kids in any class I am teaching, this has given me a lot of feedback and stimulated new story lines to develop.
Once school ended on June 16th, I was able to pull my nearly completed, second novel out of the ignored folder it slept in, and bring it to a conclusion. Today, I got the proof copy to hold in my hands and evaluate for possible publication.
I set it next to the book I published last year, and smiled. I only hope they both bring other people some of the joy that they have already given to me.
Both my Tales of uhrlin
Back covers
Look at the double books please, not the double chinsI became a special Ed teacher, after being raised with a younger brother, who has down's syndrome. I also had been bullied a lot as a student myself and the experiences I have had as a teacher and family member of a special needs kid, and as a victim of bullies, are both a large part of the framework of these novels. But my Duffy, a boy who has Cerebral Palsy, and is bullied, is not handicapped or willing to be a victim. He won't accept the word, "No."
My Brother and I in Panajachel, Guatemala
Boating in Lake Atitlan, bullrushes One of the most pleasurable parts of writing, Duffy Barkley: Seek Well has been the chance to review my journal and photographs and memories from a trip that my boys, my brother, my Mom and I took to Guatemala.When you read this story, you will see a lot of the things that I loved about this poor, war-torn but lovely area around Lake Atitlan.
My son, teaching Duck, Duck Goose to Mayan childrenYou will also get to meet a character, who was first suggested to me as a challenge, while trying to write the first 50,000 words of this novel as part of National Novel Writing Month. I love Fred, he loves baths, and he thinks he's a small, pop-eyed micro monkey. Duffy thinks he's a Dragon, but neither one is right.
Mayan girls and my youngest son
Mayan Grandmother and my oldest son
By Lake Atitlan
Posada de Santiago Atitlan So, my dream was to be a Writer. Like Duffy, I refused to accept the many times I was told "No." I'm glad that I did. The bullies lose if we refuse to be victims, and instead insist on our right to be who we dream.
Lake Atitlan
July 12, 2011
Duffy Barkley: Seek Well
first sketch of "Fred"
working on book 2 coverBeing a fiction writer has been how I defined myself, to myself, since the grade school days when I jotted down story after story in a spiral notebook dedicated to the task and passed out to my friends for feedback.
When asked to label myself for other people however, I never used the term, "Writer." It seemed pompous and presumptuous even though writing ranked right up there with breathing as one of the things I had to do everyday. But who, when asked, "What do you do?" would say, "I'm a breather?"
book 1 coverThen I published my first novel and had a lot of fun with it, but still answered the label question with "Teacher, Mom, Wife, etc." Until my husband and I were filling out a form and he listed my occupation. He put Writer. I questioned it. After all, I've spent more than I have made, writing. "He said, It is what makes you happy, right?" Right. And hopefully it also, sometimes, makes other people happy too.
The land of my dreams.So now I am writing for July, trying to write 50,000 words in a month, as part of the on-line writer's group, Camp NaNoWriMo. But I have broken the rules already. Instead of writing a new, dirty first draft, I am editing and adding to, and finishing up two books I had worked on before in previous NaNoWriMo months. I am typing until my body aches from sitting at the computer, and I am Happy!I have already finished the sequel to Duffy Barkley is Not a Dog, and sent Duffy Barkley: Seek Well to the printer and a proof copy is winging its way to me.
Now I am 20,000 words into a story called "Double Time on The Oregon Trail" about two 15 year old girls, traveling across the United States and communicating over 150 years between them. I am hoping to write several other Double Time stories, but this first one was begun when my high school senior was in fourth grade. If not for NaNoWriMo, none of the books I had in my head would ever make it to paper.
Seek Well - Blurb
Have you ever thought, "I'd love a do - over on my life?" Nine year old Duffy Barkley had been offered that chance, and in Duffy Barkley is Not a Dog, he took it – but like every choice, once made, there were consequences to be lived with. For Duffy, going back to an earlier time un-did the damage of serious choices and left him with a stronger instinct for compassion and courage. But it left him without the memories of the life that he had lived and the lessons he had learned. It came with no guarantees that he wouldn't make exactly the same mistakes or new ones again. It left him without the new friends whom he had made but it allowed him a chance to make a friend out of an old enemy – and that was the one chance, which ultimately saved them all, the first time he went to Uhrlin.The thing about do-overs is that there is no chance to sit back and rest on a mountain of your blue ribbons – instead you have to get up before you have ever caught your breath and save yourself all over again. Just because Duffy had managed to erase one tragedy didn't make him immune the next time trouble came looking for him and his friends.Now he's eleven and everyone thinks that one of the most trusted people he knew is a traitor. But he doesn't even remember that he knew her. To find her he must Seek Well.
July 6, 2011
Summer writing at CampNaNoWriMo
I have been a participant in the National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, several times in the past. Falling, as it does, in November, it is difficult. I have found that I always travel to visit family, or have family here for Thanksgiving. I also teach and that is a busy time with many holiday projects underway. I have written 3 novels and published one, but their definition of a novel is 50,000 words. That is about romance novel length, but far from YA Novel length. My DuffyBarkley is Not a Dog, at nearly 90,000 words was on the shorter side of YA Fiction.So I met my NaNo goals, but didn't meet my personal goal when I hit that 50 K limit. This summer I have signed up for CampNaNoWriMo http://www.campnanowrimo.org/
This gives me a month which has 31 days, when I am not teaching - in a year when I actually don't have any required classes or family visits looming over my head.
I pulled out the draft which is the sequel to Duffy Barkley. It is called Seek Well, and although I have worked on it in the past, I froze up at the end of November, and just could not think of one more thing to add to the story. Summer Camp seems to be just what I needed. The mind is flowing, like the breeze and the river in summer, and I am once more having fun.
loved this entry in Crescent City paradeThis is not to say that I am only writing. But I am writing every day. In Twitter universe, I #amwriting entries keep getting posted. That makes me smile. I played, and I did write between the parade in the morning on Independednce Day, and Fireworks on the Beach that evening. In fact the fireworks inspired a scene which I could never have concieved of back in November.
Seek Well has a dragon and it thinks it is a micro-monkey. It has a beloved friend who has been accused of being a traitor. It has much that I loved about my visit to Guatemala. Like every fiction piece I have ever written. It has a lot of me, and I keep discovering more as I read and reread.
Waiting for fireworks on the beach
I hope, when I finally finish this beast, that I will have created someting which other people will have fun with too. Right now, I'm having enough fun for all of us.
possible element in Seek Well book cover
June 28, 2011
Dreaming Up More Story
I love writing, in theory. In reality, I love coming up with the initial idea, and I love sharing what I have written with someone who might criticize it or love it, but will at least have taken the time to hear my voice and validate that I really do have a purpose in this life, even if it is only to flood an already saturated world with more words and pictures. That step in between, that actual "writing" step, Love might be a bit strong for that, might in fact be at times actually opposite of my real feeling about the act.
Snag in my yard that reminds me of unicorns60,000 words into a project I can no longer bear to see, I still know I am only 2/3 of the way to the shortest acceptable end product. Chaining myself to the keyboard with the promise of chocolate at the end of cranking out another couple thousand words, I still find distractions. My inner princess is acting about 7 as she finds books to order, people to chat with and games to play, tweets to send about not writing. My inner parent stands arms akimbo, foot tapping and IGNORED.
Rope swing my kids have outgrownI push away from the computer and take a walk around my yard. Except for the woodpecker drilling away on the redwood stumps, it is silent and my thoughts begin to relax. Relaxation is key for my creativity. I think of the best storylines in that almost asleep state, usually in bed, just before drifting off, when if I don't get up and take notes, they will have evaporated by morning. I usually don't get up. Real life demands I face it with well rested energy, or the students sense my weakness and become weak themselves.
Rocky
My cat follows as I circle the yard, like the obedient dog who raised him, Rocky can heel with the best of them. His chatter is designed to encourage me to sit and take him on my lap, instead of return to work at that beloved and hated hobby of mine.
WonderStumps
I call my decorating style Saturday Cartoon, Smurf blue, Pikachu yellowI loved finishing, Duffy Barkley Is Not A Dog. Writing and being able to say "I have written a novel" felt so wonderful. But Duffy was not finished with me. More of his story keeps popping into my head when I am no-where near the keyboard, and flittering away as I sit down and focus. Now Duffy Barkley: Seek Well
It has hit a phase that I had managed to forget in that first novel, the phase where I have told most of the story, but need to go back and expand it, to "Show, not tell."
And there is something else, a boatload of new characters who are insisting on being included, even though their ship floats ghostly and abandoned at sea.
And the drudgery of remembering my original story is amazing, I sweat blood over it, it was part of my lungs and bones, so why now, is it so hard to remember if it was Belle Island or Bell Island - Turtle's Bow or Turtles Bay, Ah'ee or Ah-ee?
a lot of my stories are dreamed up in the LovesacIf I could not be a writer, life would be easy. There would be no guilt when I picked up someone else's novel instead of opening the file with mine. There would be no blood on my keyboard from chewing my lip in frustration. I know there is beauty in this confused and angry world. Why do I have to share that instead of quietly enjoying it?
Anyway, I have found that even now, when I am avoiding writing, I am writing. Hear me Twitter? I #amwriting.
Snag in my yard that reminds me of unicorns60,000 words into a project I can no longer bear to see, I still know I am only 2/3 of the way to the shortest acceptable end product. Chaining myself to the keyboard with the promise of chocolate at the end of cranking out another couple thousand words, I still find distractions. My inner princess is acting about 7 as she finds books to order, people to chat with and games to play, tweets to send about not writing. My inner parent stands arms akimbo, foot tapping and IGNORED.
Rope swing my kids have outgrownI push away from the computer and take a walk around my yard. Except for the woodpecker drilling away on the redwood stumps, it is silent and my thoughts begin to relax. Relaxation is key for my creativity. I think of the best storylines in that almost asleep state, usually in bed, just before drifting off, when if I don't get up and take notes, they will have evaporated by morning. I usually don't get up. Real life demands I face it with well rested energy, or the students sense my weakness and become weak themselves.
RockyMy cat follows as I circle the yard, like the obedient dog who raised him, Rocky can heel with the best of them. His chatter is designed to encourage me to sit and take him on my lap, instead of return to work at that beloved and hated hobby of mine.
WonderStumps
I call my decorating style Saturday Cartoon, Smurf blue, Pikachu yellowI loved finishing, Duffy Barkley Is Not A Dog. Writing and being able to say "I have written a novel" felt so wonderful. But Duffy was not finished with me. More of his story keeps popping into my head when I am no-where near the keyboard, and flittering away as I sit down and focus. Now Duffy Barkley: Seek Well
It has hit a phase that I had managed to forget in that first novel, the phase where I have told most of the story, but need to go back and expand it, to "Show, not tell."And there is something else, a boatload of new characters who are insisting on being included, even though their ship floats ghostly and abandoned at sea.
And the drudgery of remembering my original story is amazing, I sweat blood over it, it was part of my lungs and bones, so why now, is it so hard to remember if it was Belle Island or Bell Island - Turtle's Bow or Turtles Bay, Ah'ee or Ah-ee?
a lot of my stories are dreamed up in the LovesacIf I could not be a writer, life would be easy. There would be no guilt when I picked up someone else's novel instead of opening the file with mine. There would be no blood on my keyboard from chewing my lip in frustration. I know there is beauty in this confused and angry world. Why do I have to share that instead of quietly enjoying it?Anyway, I have found that even now, when I am avoiding writing, I am writing. Hear me Twitter? I #amwriting.
