In real life, fear of the blank page rules my procrastination. My palms are sweaty messes. I can’t imbibe enough caffeine, no matter how fast I drink. I think my idea sucks a**balls. At some point I say, “screw it” and just write. Whew! <wiping sweat from face> Now that I’ve made the leap of faith, I remind myself I’ve frittered away a goodly chunk of the month. Ah, snap!

Never fear, though. I am determined to pump out 50,000 words by night’s end  on November 30. Today is November 19 – I have today and the next 11 days to hit the mark. A feat attainable only by those possessing a certain superpower. What is that superpower?

Duh – it’s WRITING. What did you think it was? Invisibility? The ability to fly? Those would be kinda cool powers, but be real – they wouldn’t help me in the writing department.

Writing an average of 3209 words today and the rest of the month will bring me to exactly 50,000 words. Exactly. I’m nothing, if not exact. I can do this. Watch and see. It may not be pretty, but it can be done. I’m kicking my “heartbrain” (a term coined by Elizabeth Sims) into high gear. Look out world, here I come! Mwahahahaaaaa.

In the words of the esteemed animated pig – Porky “Is there any insanity in your family?”

I think there might be in mine … starting with me! I’ve just written over 300 words here that don’t count for my NaNo total. What was I thinking?

I’ve put in several hours already and the MS is still not ready to return to Ms. P for round two. So far I learned global searches are a must. How many times did I use the word “looked” in my MS? Take a guess … c’mon … okay, I’ll tell you — 151 times. (Not kidding.) And the word “well” … 142 times. I’m spending an inordinate amount of time weeding out these pesky words and wondering what was I thinking when I wrote them – over and over and over. Instead of berating myself, however, I decided to revisit an article by Lori L. Lake – the editing guru – that addresses my little overuse of word issue. A very helpful tool for blundering wordsmiths, like me.

Another friend (thanks, Chris!) recommended a great book on self-editing that’s turned out to be ever so informative. With friends like this who needs an editor? Oh, wait, a couple of them are editors! Lucky for me.

Friends. Writing group. Encouragement. Family. Discipline. Love of writing. Guidance. Reference tools. Computer. iPad. Oh, and caffeine. All points on the map directing my journey. Stay tuned for updates along the way. Bumps. Ruts. Detours. The good. The bad. The ugly. Everything included. Perhaps sharing my journey will help someone else on theirs.

The road is long and winding … and bumpy … and slick … and marked by U turns … and sharp turns … and sometimes blocked, but most of the time wide open and beckoning. The name of this road? Writing a book.

What waits at the end of the road? I hope, a story that readers will enjoy as much as I enjoyed the writing. Publication wouldn’t be bad, either.

I’m not in full agreement with that mindset. Or maybe I am and I simply don’t care! I finished my first manuscript (MS) a couple of months ago. [The same one I mentioned in my last blog post on research.] On a whim, I passed it on to a couple of people in my writing group. I hoped to get some general feedback and tips on what not to do in my future attempts at writing.

To my surprise, two of my friends responded quite favorably on my first attempt. They both like the story and the characters (so far anyway.) What’s even more surprising is that they believe this could be a published book some day. My questions: “Seriously? Published?”

“You work your little butt off on those first round edits, but don’t be in a big rush. we have time. and I’ll make time for the project,” said my editor friend.

Well, alrighty then! I guess I have my work cut out for me. The word ‘work’ doesn’t feel right, though. To me it’s more a journey – an adventure, even. Work is that thing I do Monday-Friday so that I can pay the bills. Writing is much more than work and I don’t mind spending hours … days … weeks … months doing it – for nothing. (Well, nothing for now. At some point down the road, if I’m lucky, a publisher will cut me a break and then – who knows!) The amount of time spent on the craft may be difficult for some folks to understand -

For those of us who have the itch, though, there is nothing like working on our craft. Or talking about our craft. Or encouraging and supporting each other in our craft. Or wishing and hoping for success in our craft. For me, writing is something I love to do. I enjoy getting into my story, whichever one I’m working on. My hope is that at some point in the future someone else will get as much enjoyment out of my story as I do! And when I heard from two fellow writers that they enjoyed my story – well, it made me downright giddy!

So, is the first draft of anything really shit? I’m sure each writer has their own answer to that question. Mine is — who cares! Just keep pumping out the words and who knows what may fall outta the pile!

And maybe there’s a happy dance at the end!

I took a day off from work. I packed my camera, laptop and other miscellany in my backpack and hit the road early one November morning. I drove north … past Duluth. The day was sunny and cool. A truly beautiful and inspiring autumn day. I really enjoyed the drive. My excitement was boundless, I was on my way to do research for a novel.

Research–a novel idea if one is going to write.

I’ve never written a novel. I’ve never done research for fiction writing. I was flying by the seat of my pants. I spent the entire day combing the area of interest for my setting. I drove around the nearby town to get a good feel for it. I bought souvenirs at the tourist shop. I watched and listened to folks around me. I soaked it all in. I wrote out some notes and devised a list of questions I felt needed answers. I took photos until the battery in my camera was drained. I felt as though I’d accomplished a lot.

I headed back south as the sun was setting. The drive home was exhilarating … I had some ideas … the stars were shining brightly … the planets were aligned. All was good. When I got home I decided to send an email to the caretaker of my chosen story setting. I hoped to garner some factual tidbits to make the story more believable. I had a list of thirteen questions, which I didn’t think delved too much into the ‘personal.’ I sent the email off and waited.

A mere three days later I was thrilled to see a response from the individual. I opened the email and began reading. In less than one minute I’d gone from excited to bummed out. Most of my efforts had been thwarted. Of the list of thirteen questions, seven received “no comment” as the response. Seriously. A couple more had only half answers. The rest of the information was helpful, but mundane in its essence.

I questioned my ability. I mean, if I couldn’t even get answers to questions how could I possibly write anything that came close to seeming real? And I know, as a reader, if something seems not believable I tend to put the book aside.

Damn. Now what do I do?

And the cherry on top of the proverbial sundae? The closing line of the email stated, “Since it is fiction I am sure that you will not need the detail of information you are asking.”

Really? You can’t tell me which law enforcement agency has jurisdiction over your site? Really? That’s too detailed?

I was disappointed. Then I got a bit angry. Maybe I was misguided in thinking I could do this writing thing. Perhaps there was a super secret writer’s method for conducting valid research that I, in my authorial infancy, had not yet learned? I wondered if I should just give up or wait until I’d been properly trained (if there was any such training.)

No. I would not be stymied.

A few days later I got the answer to a couple of the questions that this particular individual wouldn’t answer on the basis of it being too personal … I contacted another resource and explained why I was asking the questions. Within a day I had clear answers. I also did some online research to get some information on law enforcement in the region. So, despite the dragonslayer taking a slash at me, I prevailed (for the most part.)

Still it rankles … “no comment.” It’s only fiction, after all. Right?

Wrong.

There is truth in fiction … at least that’s what I believe.

As a wannabe writer, I decided to take the leap and attend a writing conference. When I asked my friend, Lori Lake to recommend an appropriate conference for someone like me she didn’t hesitate to tell me that the GCLS (Golden Crown Literary Society) Conference would be perfect. She was correct, as usual.

The location? Disney World-Orlando, FL. Yes, Florida in June is HOT HOT HOT and let us not forget HUMID HUMID HUMID. Mix in a few thunder storms to top it all off! I digress …

The con was a mix of writers, readers, publishers – a welcoming and wonderful bunch of ladies! The incomparable Lee Lynch was the Keynote Speaker. I was spellbound through her entire speech. I’m honored to have heard her story. A true trailblazer.

The Con kicked off on Weds night with a “Meet and Greet” … free ice cream and toppings, sodas and water (oh, and a cash bar for those that required a little liquid courage in order to interact!) Mingling of newbies – dubbed “Con Virgins” – with all the repeat attendees was the intent of this first event.

GCLS Con was this aspiring author’s dream come true – I was surrounded by friendly, talented and awesome women from throughout the world. People traveled from Australia, Georgia, Israel, California, England, Missouri, Holland, Minnesota, Oregon and Ohio – these are only a few of the locales our sisters hailed from. A small contingent of ladies with a large geographic representation.

Hugs abounded between old friends and new. The workshops were awesome and the women amazing. We were like one big happy family. And after three days of workshops, coffee chats and panel discussions the event was capped off with the Awards Ceremony and dance afterward. Sunday morning there was a “good-bye” brunch and then the sad tearing down of the vendor tables and packing … hugging … saying good-bye to old friends and new.

I learned so much and feel so energized. A recurring theme I heard throughout the event is that we don’t write for the money … we write because we love to write. Writing is hard work – work that those of us who love it thrive on. In the end it’s not about the money. Writing is about telling a story … finding an audience who will enjoy our stories. Write what you want to read.

My summary of the Con:
The one clear message I took away with me was that no matter our level of success in writing and being published, there’s one core value that ties us all together and that is our love of writing. Words nourish, whether we’re
writing them for others to read or reading what others have written. That’s powerful stuff.

Thanks to Lori Lake and Patty Schramm and the rest of the Board for putting on an amazing wonderful conference. I’ll be back next year. Thanks, too, to all my new friends and the BABAs (you know who you are!) This was a powerful experience, interacting with so many talented women who respect each others talent and potential without question. I can’t wait for next year’s Con!

In the meantime – may the words flow …

I just saw the movie, The Runaways, this weekend. I will most definitely see this movie, again. I will buy this movie when it comes out on DVD. It’s that good. Kristen Stewart was awesome as Joan Jett!

The Runaways disbanded … Joan moved on.

Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.

Starts her own record label because no one would produce her … ha! Their loss!!

I am amazed at the resilience of the goddess (aka Joan Jett) and her  commitment to stay true to herself and her love of music. I love her covers … check out Crimson and Clover or Love Hurts. Like louder more in your face rock? How about Bad Reputation?

Joan Jett proves over and over again – girls CAN play rock n’ roll!!

One of the five is on her way to her cousin’s funeral in Indianapolis by way of the Dells and Chicago. (Is it Jim, Jimmy or Jammer driving?)

The other four enjoyed tortas from the little shop on the first floor of the big towering apartment complex.

The promise was made, I’m not sure by whom, that notes of the evening’s gathering would be taken and shared with the missing link (aka Joan).  So, here goes-not necessarily in order of discussion:

The evening began with the birthday girl taking about 20 minutes to make her way from the door of the apartment to the couch where, I might add, she doesn’t normally sit. She was trying to explain why she was the last to arrive … some story about parking and then discovering the meter didn’t work (this happened twice) and then she had to check out the water level of the river. I’m thinking she was worried we might not be safe from the flooding … although the 20th floor seemed pretty safe in my mind.

A story ensued about some crazy clerk in St. Paul who climbed up on top of the trayveyor (sp?) to clear a jam and got her arm sucked into the system. She was stuck there for 40 minutes before someone heard her yelling for help. Then the Fire Dept arrived and whipped out the ‘jaws of life’ to extract her … a couple of maintenance guys asked the firemen to not damage the equipment … ummm, yeah right. On the way to the hospital the person riding with the wacko clerk said, “you realize you did something wrong, right?”

Before the gathering, I’d been in St. Paul working. I asked a certain redheaded secretary when she’s retiring. Her response to me was something along the lines of, “I’ve picked out 45 outfits.” (Who wears ‘outfits’? Seriously.) In any case, my understanding is that she has only 45 days left to work.

Oh, and the guy who we thought got the bid vacated in October by our friend? He didn’t pass the typing test. So, Nancy got the bid! (I bet she said, “nice shirt mister” and that got her the job!)

****

The one who cares for “DD” types is losing one of her clients. There was chatter of perhaps selling the house and moving to a warmer climate with her husband if someone would take her last client.  Oh, and the brother recently home from a tour in Iraq is now living with mom and dad. Apparently, the wife and he are quits. Fingers crossed that it’s no longer an “everlasting love.”

Another of the group was chastised, by the hostess, for ‘playing’ with her Blackberry device instead of conversing with the others. In my own defense (yes it was me being chastised) … I was searching Google Maps to discern the possible route our missing friend may have taken to reach the Dells. I-94 East, right?

Tortas time. The shop closes at 6 pm … I think we arrived about 20 minutes prior to closing. The woman had already mopped the floor (the same thing happened last time we were there!) The hostess enjoyed a turkey torta … the rest of us decided to go rogue and try the “House” torta. (Remember the Quizno’s Classic Italian? Well, the “House” torta was very similar.)

****

Peanut M&Ms.

Pretzels.

Fresh strawberries.

Diet Pepsi.

Cupcakes for dessert.

More Peanut M&Ms.

Hmmmm … Which of the above doesn’t belong?

****

The river is quite high. Raspberry Island is under water. Boats from the landing are parked – wait for it – on the street! There appears to be a lake on Harriet Island. There’s a levee … a virtual bevy of sandbags … behind the Post Office along Warner Road.

The gal recently returned from Mexico is frustrated with her husband. Apparently, he purchased a new laptop, but cannot figure out how to turn the “Parental Controls” function off, so she has to override the Parental Controls; therefore, is unable to use the computer for longer than 30 minutes at a time. The husband recently had surgery, on his toe joint, at the VA hospital. Due to his incapacitation, the neighbor offered to take down their outdoor Christmas lights for them.

There was a brief discussion of movies recently viewed. Our dear friend, mentioned in the previous paragraph, obtained a copy of “The Hangover” for one of the “DD” clients to watch … decidedly not a great choice, at least in the mind of our friend’s husband! “It’s Complicated” was brought up … our hostess didn’t think it was all that funny … the three of us thought it was hilarious. “Shutter Island” … two thumbs up (me and the Irish gal.)

TV shows … our hostess intensely dislikes “Criminal Minds” (which happens to be my favorite show) because of the serial killer sicko theme week after week. It’s too much. “Numb3rs” is more to her liking, but apparently that show is no more. (Personally, I didn’t like Numb3rs … Charlie bugged.) Obviously, the hostess and I have quite different viewing tastes.

Who will take the leftover cupcakes home? Not me. Good grief. The hostess refused to keep them. The Irish gal said, “not me.” Somehow, though, she ended up with the bag in hand as we exited the apartment. In one of the smoothest moves I’ve seen in quite some time, she managed to hand off said bag to our friend from Andover, as we were all calling our final good-byes to the hostess. Very nice.

That’s about all I can remember (it was pointed out to me that my memory is not very good … something people born in 1960 and 1961 seem to experience, according to our hostess!) I would have to agree with her assessment.

We missed our friend from Cottage Grove! Hopefully next time we’ll be five, again.

A few years ago, six to be exact, a group of people began planning our 25 year class reunion. A Yahoo Group was established and people began checking in and getting reacquainted after perhaps many years (25) of no contact. I fretted and hemmed and hawed about joining the aforementioned Yahoo Group, but bit the bullet and joined.

Emails began to fly. “How are you?” and the most dreaded question of all … “what’s new?” Well, Jesus H. Christ on a cracker … how was I going to answer that question to a bunch of Catholics? My story, I was sure was quite different from most and though I wasn’t afraid to tell it, I just didn’t know if I wanted to tread those waters of adversity … okay, possible adversity.

I shared my tale with one woman, who I had been semi-friends with during high school. Only to find, not only acceptance, but that her story wasn’t all that different – she didn’t take the long and winding road, like I did, to reach her destination.  Okay, so it went well with her and we traded emails for quite some time. I thought to myself, well this isn’t all that bad, maybe I can be open with a few classmates, so I dared to dip my toes into the waters yet again.

I should have known better – I’ve always been afraid of water and done my damnedest to stay out of it. I was flailing … not knowing what to do, not sure if I cared. See, I decided to “trust” another woman and shared with her my life since high school. The unabridged version, goddess help me! What a dope I was. So, she tells me how accepting she is of all people and that she’s nonjudgmental and almost had me convinced it would be a great idea to go to the reunion. I responded that maybe we could meet for coffee before the reunion and chat some more … and maybe even sit together at the reunion, if we both decided to go.

No response. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. The sound of … silence. (Can you see where this is all heading?)

I tried, again … another email … another invite for coffee … this time I was greeted with a returned email! Yep. The email address ‘suddenly’ disappeared. Hmmmm. So much for open-minded, nonjudgmental and accepting. I did NOT attend the reunion. Instead, I had a hysterectomy and my partner took care of me and we didn’t even think about the reunion as the date came and went …

Last year was the 30 year reunion. I joined the Facebook page developed by the same classmate that choreographed the Yahoo Group five years earlier. I ‘friended’ him and didn’t even think twice about going to the reunion … I stayed home. (I’d rather have another hysterectomy, than attend a class reunion! I know … I know … I only had one uterus, but you can’t blame a gal for trying!) Now that Facebook has become all the rage for adults I’ve made the leap of adding a few friends from high school to my very limited list of Facebook buddies. Then that dreaded question popped up, again. “What’s new?”

I’ll answer, but I’m more prepared for a non-response now. See, I simply don’t care. If people have a problem with me … well, then, they have a problem – their problem. Not mine. Life’s too short for bullshit. Face it … I’m older …

Towanda, baby!

To thine own self be true … the truth will set you free … AND it will keep the riffraff away!  Peace.

And if you like the movie, I recommend Dennis Lehane’s book. Deeply dark, baby. Yeah. Read it and tell me you don’t like it. Go on … I dare you.