Clayton sunset.
ImageAuthor: etoiline
9 times
StandardI’ve renewed the domain for etoiline.com 9 times as of yesterday. That’s scary close to 10, which means I’ll have been blogging intermittently for a decade next year. Wow. Guess I should update more often, eh? And my parents have been married for 35 years, which is spectacular and sweet. I love you both.
Hope you all had a happy Easter. Things are crazy around here, what with the tornado hitting the airport and friends and family on their way to weddings. Next weekend is the St.Charles Artwalk (see both my parents’ work!), as well as the STL Bookfair, so you’ve got plenty to keep you busy.
What you should do
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A whisper of a dream
StandardWould you kill to save a life? Would you kill to prove you’re right?
A glimmer of an idea teases my muse and I marvel at its source–a 30 Seconds to Mars song. I don’t know if there’s a story behind it or it’s just an idle fragment of bought that could be built upon. I put it here so I’d be held accountable for it. Violent? Maybe. But there’s a hint of truth there, a longing for justice, propelling someone headlong into something they could not possibly understand. I don’t know why any of these things would be happening, but that’s part of the magic of creation, isn’t it?
THE END in 2010
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I managed to finagle a way to write THE END at the conclusion of NaNoWriMo 2010. It’s sort of kludgy and there are lots of things that don’t make a lot of sense and plenty of wrong turns and dangling plot points, but I did end the story. It’s only a smidge over 50,000 words, but I don’t mind. It’s a story, by golly!
I could probably cut it down quite a bit and make it a decent short story, but I’m (not quite as equally) sure I could pad it out and figure out where some of those dangling plotlines actually end up. I wrote myself into a corner and wrote myself back out, and also managed to use some of the conveniently placed plot points that I somehow put in early in the story, but I also strayed VERY VERY far from my synopsis, which makes me sad. I think it would have been a better story if I’d figured out how to stick to what I originally planned. I don’t know if that’s a (not really) rousing endorsement to continue my pantsing ways, or to get tough with my muse and start planning the damn things out before 11:30 pm on October 31.
What’s it about? Well, it was supposed to be about a Writer (in my world, Writers write plays where the actors truly become their characters for the length of the play) whose mentor is killed, and all signs point to the Writer as doing it, only she didn’t! So she has to clear her name and figure out who put the bad mojo on her. Unfortunately, I didn’t get around to the murder until the end of the story (yes, I did the bad and all the action is in the last 10,000 words), so the mystery part of my murder mystery never materialized. However, I did end up with an angry, ambitious ghost-in-the-play who possesses one of the actors and wreaks all sorts of havoc. He’s one-sided, sure, but he was pretty good at being bad. There was also more blood and gore than I’ve ever tried to write, and I was reminded again at how squeamish I can be. I wanted to be a doctor? (sigh)
Anyway, the book has an ending. This is only the second book in seven years to which that has happened, so I really have to work on that. Maybe next year I’ll try to up the goal. But I have plenty of trouble just writing 1667 words a day that I don’t know if I could try to double it…but maybe 2k a day would be doable. We’ll see next year, won’t we?
TGIO party tomorrow, yay!
For those of you who think NaNo is a waste of time, read this:
30
StandardWell, I’m 30 now. I’ve started a new decade of life. Honestly, I don’t feel any different than I did at 29–still working the same job, doing the same things. Sure, there have been changes, and ones that can be measured in years instead of days–I bought a car and a house, my boyfriend lives with me–but I don’t feel all that much different than when I graduated. I guess that’s a good thing, right? Feeling–well, not young, exactly, but certainly not like I’m going to have a mid-life crisis. I don’t mind, in the main. I don’t really like big changes. They make me nervous. I do wish I was more spontaneous sometimes, though.
I’m happy with my life as it is. I wish I had more time to do the things I want to do, but everybody wants that. I’ve got a place of my own, family and friends that love me, a good job, and now, thanks to my parents, a stockpot so I can cook real chicken and dumplings. (Thanks Mom and Dad!) There isn’t a lot I need. The house needs some work, but nothing urgent: the garden could use a loving hand; the basement wants for a few new outlets; the bathroom needs a fan; and the attic needs new insulation. There is a lot of stuff I want, but don’t need. I keep telling myself that. I’ve got what I need.
Unfortunately I still haven’t finished writing a whole book; that is one thing I regret. I don’t know why I procrastinate so much, but there are just so many things I could also be doing: knitting, crocheting, gardening, playing with the cat, fiddling with the iPod…yeah. Maybe this year.
I don’t really like being 30–not the age, but the connotation of the number. I don’t feel like it fits me. Maybe in a year or two I’ll resign myself to the fourth decade, but I still think of myself as younger. But I don’t know how much younger; certainly not the low 20s, when you’re just out of school and aimless (unless you were a pre-med and then you knew exactly what you were doing for the next seven years of your life), not the mid 20s when quite a few of my friends were getting together with the person they would marry…I guess there is something about staying 29. Although I’d pick 27, just because. I don’t feel old, unless I see a bunch of kids doing something crazy, but I’m reasonably up on tech stuff, so I’m not lost in an electronics store. I can still pull off shopping at trendy stores (if I ever shop there) and I still get carded. But I can remember the days before the Internet and I don’t have a smartphone, so I suppose I’d be regarded as a fuddy by the younger set. But I don’t mind. See, I’m getting older and smarter.
We’ll see what the coming year brings. Maybe I’ll finish a book. Maybe I’ll finish the afghan that’s been sitting around the house for years. Maybe the garden will actually look like a garden instead of a place where there are some flowers and more weeds. I’ll try to make it a good one.
Thanks for sharing it with me.
Style
StandardNot fashion style, as I have very little of that. I’ll take comfort over fashion any day. But writing style, that’s something different. I’ve never really been sure I have a style, other than faintly imitative of Carol Berg or Jim Butcher. I’m not good at categorization, which is sort of funny since my mom is really good at it. Anyway, there’s a meme floating around about analyzing your writing and comparing it to famous writers, and here’s my result, based on my last blog entry. Perhaps I should finally read some of his work…
One of these days I’ll dredge up some of my NaNo stuff and see how that pans out.
I would like all the people in my life with money issues to stop having them. And I would like my tomatoes and zucchini to fruit.
a short love story
StandardA SHORT LOVE STORY IN STOP MOTION from Carlos Lascano on Vimeo.
Thanks to my coworker Freida who shared it on Facebook.
Looking forward
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Image by Robb North via Flickr
Do you see an empty road, or a new future?
I’d like to think that it’s an invitation to take a new path, one that’s completely open to interpretation.
Of course, in real life I’d never take such a road, not without checking a map or pulling out the GPS I hope to afford one day…
Does that ever happen to you? Where you want to do something but the practical side of you holds you back? That’s sort of how I feel about writing. I love it, I do. I love the feeling of creating a new world and populating it with characters that run away with the story, of finding new plots when you thought there were none, of writing just to see what happens, because I usually have no clue. But then I think of the seemingly insurmountable obstacles in front of seeing the words I’ve put down show up in a book in a bookstore. Sure, there are people out there who are doing really well with the new ebook publishing model. But call me old-fashioned, I want a book with a professional cover printed by a reputable house with my name at the top. And that’s tough to do.
Of course, I have to finish writing the damn thing first. I’m so close–one chapter and an epilogue, which I know some people hate, but I think it’s the best way to wrap up the story–but it’s not easy to sit down and do the planning I know I need to do so the last chapter is the best it can be (for the first time through, anyway 😉 ) There are so many other things clamoring for my time: knitting, crocheting, the iPod apps that Mike always belittles, gardening (yes, it seems I like gardening very much), taking care of the home, working out, and lest we forget, reading. I’m ahead of last year in books but behind during this month, but again, so many things in the way. I need more time in the day, of course.
But I’ve just got to make time. I’ve got to set out on that open road, without knowing what’s ahead. Sure I may have to make some U-turns along the way, and go back to what works, because no one succeeds 100% of the time. But I just have to think of what waits at the end, or even the next fork, reaching little goals along the way.
The thing about fairy tales
StandardInspired by this.
I grew up on Disney fairy tales. For a long time they were my only source for magic and wonder, and man, did they do a good job. The Golden Age of Disney (for me, at least, and probably a lot of my peers) consisted of the years when The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, and the Lion King came out, and in my opinion there have never been any better animated fairy tales than those.
But every so often I come across the original versions of the tales. One of these days I’ll have to read Grimm’s and be horrified that my happy endings aren’t so happy. You know me, I love my happy endings, so I usually hew to the Disney versions anyway.
(Side note: Beauty and the Beast will always be my favorite favorite of those…because Belle is a bookworm, and she gets that huge library *want*)
My thing about fairy tales is that I want them to wrap up nice and neat and preferably with a happy ending (do you sense a trend here?), and I’m generally happy when they do. But here’s the rub: the stuff I like to read now doesn’t always end on an upbeat note. Carol Berg and Jim Butcher, my favorite authors, are not afraid to leave you hanging.
The ending of the story I’m working on doesn’t really end happily (in my head, at least–it’s not finished, much to Mike’s chagrin) but it does end with hope. That’s the thing, I guess. Maybe I just want the hope that things will turn out right, that there is reason to be hopeful, that there’s the thought that if the story continues, everyone might not start off completely depressed. Maybe that makes me an optimist, but I don’t care. Give me a glimmering of hope, and I might just forgive you for not making the story HEA (happily ever after).