On Writing...

I started reading Stephen King's On Writing today, which is sort of reckless if you consider the other myriads of books I HAVE to read for a grade.

I haven't made it very far as of yet, I only had about fifteen minutes of reading time before I had a quiz to take this morning. Still, just knowing that in some small way I'm working toward my writing goals makes me feel better--I am a writer, despite my constant school-imposed hiatus (is the plural of hiatus hiates?) from actually writing.

I can do this. I can write a book. I've been writing "books" since before I even knew how to write words. I want to do this. I need to do this. I love to do this! Only six weeks of class left!!!

I recently started using a program called Microsoft Onenote, because it's awesome and it allows me to be un-linear, and I don't like intricate writing software, so anything that makes plotting, plot notes, research, references, and alternate story lines more stream-lined and accessible is a plus for me. I highly recommend it!

Song Writng and Other business

Well, I forgot last week's post in a rather predictable fashion. Sigh.

This week I've been drafting my presentation for the International Conference on Romanticism (which is about authors such as Wordsworth, Coleridge, etc.) and playing around with some song writing.

I'm really hoping to get back into my mystery writing schedule soon--especially since brainstorming with my good friend and fellow author Audra Brown--with whom I am, coincidentally, writing a Fantasy entitled Remember the Alamok.

There are about six weeks of school left this semester, and then--HOPEFULLY--I will revert to my schizophrenic, crazy, hermit-like, writer ways...

Lemon Bars and Writing

I am making Lemon Bars. Glorious, if slightly too rich, little pieces of lemony-pastry heaven. I know, this may seem like an odd introductory sentence to find on a mystery writer's blog. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Even mystery writers have to eat. Some of them even like it.

I do have some kind of idea where I'm going with my Lemon Bar introduction. In fact, I'll head that way now.

Once upon a time, there were no such things as Lemon Bars. It was a sad, sad world--nobody could imagine those tart, mouth-puckering little fruits as the essential element to what may be the world's best dessert. Nobody. Until, one day, somebody dared to create the unthinkable--a glorious, delicious dessert that incorporates the tang of lemon with the smooth taste of sugar, butter, and pastry.

That person went against the rules. There was no self-doubting, no breakdown of the chef telling himself that this idea was not worth pursuing. Just glorious creation, and it CHANGED LIVES AROUND THE WORLD FOREVER.

At this point, two things should be apparent to you: 1, I love Lemon Bars, and 2, There is NOTHING that cannot be written about.

In the words of poet Sylvia Plath, "And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt."

Yep, that's about all I have to say for the day. I'm gonna go eat a Lemon Bar now...

Research in Real Life

You know, I have a great reason for missing my last Sunday blog post. Really, I do. I was doing mystery research...no, not official "book" research, but real life experience research.

What did I learn?

*Court cases are interesting things; sometimes lawyers are terrible rhetoricians.

*An entry wound from a gunshot is distinguishable because it has something called Abrasion--a dark ring around the central defect (wound) that looks very similar to a bruise.

*Exit wounds are irregular in shape because when the bullet exits the body, it splits the skin rather than puncturing as it does upon entry.

*New Mexico has a state Office of the Medical Investigator that "investigates any death occurring in the State of New Mexico that is sudden, violent, untimely, unexpected, or where a person is found dead and the cause of death is unknown," which means that I need to fix references of autopsy in TO DIE FOR because autopsy would have been performed by the state of New Mexico.

There was more, but I can't really go into detail about it. Turns out some things that people think are tedious are a mystery writer's best friend--who says jury duty has to be a terrible experience?

Poetry

Well, I almost missed my self imposed weekly due date, yet again. But, I didn't. Aren't you proud? In lieu of a regular post--because I'm tired and I've been reading depressing novels all day for my classes--I'm going to post something a little bit out of the ordinary for this blog: poetry. Why, you ask? Because I've been corrupted by the awesomeness that is magnetic poetry. Go ahead, Google it. I dare you.

Who never wanted,--maddest joy
Remains to him unknown;
The banquet of abstemiousness
Surpasses that of wine.

Within its hope, though yet ungrasped
Desire's perfect goal,
No nearer, lest reality
Should disenthrall thy soul.

--Emily Dickinson


The words transfix themselves,
Mere shadows of eternity,
To one more neat-pressed page--
express uncertainty.
Perhaps the path is right,
Perhaps I've lost my way,
And so the writer seeks for light
Amidst the brilliancy of day

--Courtney Foley

Pain follows, surely, surely
I can feel her kinship grow

I've cast away love, run from mercy
and only pain will follow now

Perhaps she serves a greater master
Perhaps true love has sent her here

Pain follows, that's all I know now
and either way the end is near.

--Courtney Foley

Coffee

There's something to be said for the wonders of coffee.

Every morning when I wake up early, drag myself out of bed, and head out the door for another long day of classes and work, I stress prevent by telling myself that, if I don't have enough energy to make it through the day, a cup of coffee is always at hand. And it is. I can buy it at the library, I can snag some at home, I can get some in the Languages and Literature building, or the main campus hub.

As a writer, I feel the same way. On those rare, glorious days that I know I have time to work on my manuscript, or a short story, or whatever it is I'm writing, the plotline looming large before me full of potential and a slight amount of pressure (will it still be good? am I good enough to publish?), I know I can always take a break and have a nice cup.

Now if only coffee could give me about twelve more hours in a day. That would be something.

Thinking...

First, let me note that THIS POST will stand in for Sunday's post. I'm heading outta town. Gettin' the heck outta Dodge. Leaving the computer behind.

Transition.

Normally, I try to stay positive on social media like blogs, facebook, and etcetera. Nobody likes a downer, for one thing, and I'm fairly sure that stories should be relevant to the reader. Most people just don't care what happened to your second cousin's third cousin on his twenty-third birthday (even if it wasn't pretty--and it wasn't).

Anyway, the above paragraph was not to tell you that I am making an exception to my rule--even though I could, and fascinate you all with my maudlin tales of melancholy and woe. I crafted it specifically to lead up to the following point:

Writers and readers have a very symbiotic relationship. Without readers there would be no writers, and without writers there would be no readers. That's just the way it is. So, wouldn't it be advisable for writers (and I include myself here) to criticize, analyze, objectively judge their works and TRY to make their words relevant to a significant audience?

By the way, have I ever told you about the time I hit myself in the eye with my car door? No? Well, it's fascinating, really...