Author: etoiline

a softball haiku

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Since it is the day before a softball game and it’s raining, I present to you a softball haiku:
softball–a dream that
never becomes realized
because it rains so
Last night I had a dream where I was a Transformer-like Eliza Dushku (yes, I was listening to the soundtrack to Transformers last night–why do you ask?) and I really wanted to read the as-yet unpublished manuscript of some famous author–dunno who. I could get anywhere I wanted because I was pretty and rich and then could, you know, transform to get out of there. So I go to this author’s place, grab the manuscript, but the police come before I can leave. Thus, I run out of the house, throw the ms. in the air, become a car, and careen off, but the policeman shoots and knocks off the license plate. Since I am a bibliophile, after the policeman has given up the chase, all he finds is the piece of plate with part of a plastic plate protector. The partial plate says OO, and the plate protector says “ublic Lib”–get it? The plate reads BOOKS (or something similar) and the protector promotes some city’s Public Library.
And then I told it all to Eliza Dushku, who was apparently at a garage sale with me. Go fig.
On a serious note: one of my favorite authors (and one who probably played a part in my wanting to be a fantasy author), David Eddings, passed away last night. He will be missed. I brought the first book in the Elenium, The Diamond Throne, with me to work to read in memoriam.

Good Fiction

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“The test of any good fiction is that you should care something for the characters; the good to succeed, the bad to fail. The trouble with most fiction is that you want them all to land in hell, together, as quickly as possible.”
–Mark Twain

From the Wyrdsmith’s blog.
I woke up yesterday with the conclusion of last year’s NaNo nearly complete in my head, just before the alarm went off. So of course I had to wake myself up enough to write it down, so I wouldn’t forget it. That story must get done!
Busy day today, which is good. Will take my mind off the issue in need of fingers crossed.

Unfettered

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“In art we are once again able to do all the things we have forgotten; we are able to walk on water; we speak to the angels who call us; we move, unfettered, among the stars.” –Madeleine L’Engle

Thanks to Isaac from my writing group and NaNo.
I think I might have forgotten a plot point for Red Skirts. But I thought of another one–or maybe it’s the same one–so hopefully I’ll end up in the same place. Better remember it this time…
Still looking for a house, yes. Here’s hoping.

something learned

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More pithiness from Neil Gaiman. Gotta reread American Gods sometime.

…I saved the document on the computer, and I realised I’d finished writing a book.
I wondered what I’d learned, and found myself remembering something Gene Wolfe had told me, six months earlier. “You never learn how to write a novel,” he said. “You just learn how to write the novel that you’re writing.”

This housing search has really put a crimp in my reading and writing schedule. I’ve only read 4 books this month so far, and I don’t think I’ve done any writing at all. I know I had some ideas, though…hopefully they’ll wait until figure out my living situation. And when I have a house…maybe I’ll have a dedicated writing room. Here’s hoping.

Six

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Huzzah! Today is my six-year anniversary of starting work at WUMS. One more year and my kids can go to WU for free. My non-existent, not-even-a-twinkle-in-my-eye kids. One day, mom, one day you’ll be a grandmother.
Also: househunting is an exercise in frustration. The hopeful-excited/dejected-disappointed cycle is NOT COOL. Do not want. But I need a place to live and I want that place to be my own, so to the hunt we go.
Thirdly, if you are in want of something to do this weekend, stop by the Kirkwood Festival of Food and Flowers, and see Artists in Bloom, one of which will be my mother. It’s located right across from the Kirkwood City Hall, just a short walk from the Amtrak station, and buddied up with a farmer’s market. Also, Dewey’s Pizza is just up the street. You can’t lose. Hope to see you around!

The Importance of the novel

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And here lies the vast importance of the novel, properly handled. It can inform and lead into new places the flow of our sympathetic consciousness, and it can lead our sympathy away in recoil from things gone dead. Therefore, the novel, properly handled, can reveal the most secret places of life: for it is in the passional secret places of life, above all, that the tide of sensitive awareness needs to ebb and flow, cleansing and freshening.

from Ch. 9 of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, D.H. Lawrence.
Got a bit of a bombshell today when my roommate informed me that she won’t be renewing her part of the lease. There’s only a month left on the current one. I’ve been looking at condos, even have a realtor and a banker guy, but I don’t know how this is going to work out in a month. Do I sign the lease and find a subletter when I find a new place? Not sign the lease and hope something works out? Sigh.

Happy () Day

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AttS is SEVEN today!
My parents celebrate their anniversary and my friend Kate and my coworker Gordon (sorry I can’t be there for drinks) can tally up another year on this day.
Huzzah to all of you.
splogo.jpg
If you’re in town looking for something to do (other than the book fair, that is), head on over to the St. Charles Spring Artwalk. My mom will be displaying her artwork at 222 N Main Street, and there is plenty of parking behind the building. We’ll be there all weekend, so why don’t you stop by and say hi, and pick up a gift for Mother’s Day?
Happy weekend, all 🙂

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I wish

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From zen_habits on Twitter, who said, Complete this sentence: I wish my life were more …
Writerly. (Yeah, not a word. But I wish I acted more like an author. This is a wish I can and should make true.)
Exciting. (Though that whole proverb of living in interesting times…perhaps I better stick with the steady job, even though it’s not quite paying me enough)
Clean. (I at least have a path between my bedroom door and my bed, but there’s plenty of room in there for shelves, if I ever stopped buying books enough to have money for some.)
Arty. (I used to draw on everything. Even now, my twitter feed is full of Photoshop and Illustrator resources, and my delicious account has hundreds of links to tutorials on graphic design. One day I will be creative many ways.)
Outdoorsy. (I miss camping. I miss horseback riding. I will go whitewater rafting again someday. I will hike the Rockies again and visit Canada. Maybe.)
Financially secure. (I have money enough, right now, but not quite enough to do what I want to. Hopefully that will change, someday. Until then, I must write.)
I think I can change these things. I’m lazy, as you might have noticed me mention in this blog before, so I’d have to get over the fear and anxiousness of change, but perhaps someday I will.

Not in it for the money

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Want to know how an author’s royalty check breaks down? Read Lynn Viehl’s post on “The Reality of a Times Bestseller” and be either shocked or vindicated, depending on what your viewpoint is…
It took her the better part of a year to get royalty payments on her top-20 bestseller. Sigh.
So no, I don’t write for the money. Shoot, if I did, I’d actually have something polished and finished and ready to send off for submission. I really, really don’t. I write because I love it, because it makes me happy to find that perfect word or find that magic plot point twist that I somehow worked into the beginning of the story without even knowing it. I’m practical (maybe too practical) and I know that even if I was one of the lucky ones I wouldn’t be able to quit my job if I sold a book. But that’s okay.
I am one of the lucky ones who has a good job (even if it doesn’t pay that well) and I have relative freedom to do whatever I want in my free time as long as I get my work done. It’s something that’s unlikely *crossed fingers* to fall to a recession, and I work with some really quality people.
Perhaps I’ll never write a bestseller (even though the Publishing Game my parents made for my gifted class in 5th grade said I would!). Perhaps I’ll have to rethink my stance on self-publishing (especially since I have such wonderful artistic parents). But I can’t shake the dream of someday standing in the company of my favorite authors, holding a copy of my own book. And I don’t want to.
Dream big.
(Guess I ought to write some more on that NaNovel, eh? 😉 )