And good cookies were had by all...

When I first moved here, I contacted the Writer's Society and asked if there was a critique group for authors writing for children and teens. The woman I spoke to said, "no, but if you start one, I'll join." And so I did just that. I attended their main critique group, introduced myself and stated my intentions of starting a group dedicated to children's/teen fiction.

Am I ever glad that I did.

We've been meeting for several months now, and I absolutely love the people in my group. They are talented, inspiring, critical, helpful, and encouraging. All of them.

Tonight I gave them Chapter Nine of my novel for teens. I experienced a flurry of writing a while back - but then had to stop in order to finish the assignments for the class I was taking. It was nice to get my mind back into the novel after a little hiatus. My group pointed out some problems with my tenses and had me examine where I wanted the story to go. They gave some great structural advice on the chapter, and some very positive comments about the book in general.

Now, I can't sleep. I've reworked the chapter according to some of the advice my colleagues have given me. This is good. This is as it should be. I should be kept up at night by novel dilemma's, right? It's two in the morning - I have to be up around 6:00 with my little guy and get the big boys ready for school. Aidan has a Dr's appointment in the morning, and James and I have a tax appointment in the afternoon. No time for naps. . . but like I said, this is all as it should be.


Image courtesy of Olivander on Flickr

Visions from the Next Morning

An early morning walk and thoughts on the novel are spinning within me. I write everything down when I get home - I don't want to miss anything - I'll worry about being coherent later.

Then on the drive to the doctor's I have a few more thoughts - mull them over while driving - scribble them down when the lights are red. My notebook is a mess - but my thoughts are good and sound.

We arrive at our destination with 20 minutes to spare. By the grace of God, Aidan is asleep. I park - roll down the window and write and write and I don't stop until it's time to go.

Life is good - I'm writing again.

Cookies Daughter grew up...

. . . and now writes to feed her cookie habbit.


Photo found on Flickr.

No, not published yet - but am trying to look at writing as the job I love - rather than the hobby I sometimes dabble in. Does it matter if I'm not paid to do it yet? Do I have to be published before I can call myself a writer?

I remember when I was going to Trent University - the young men in my poetry class were ready to call themselves "poets," or "writers", whereas the women were more likely to say, "I like to write - or, I'd like to become a writer, someday." I still wonder what it was in our upbringing that made us do that - and if young women today experience the same thing?

Becoming a writer through the eyes of a 7 year old

Every day I check the mailbox with a little hope in my heart. Will today bring me a wonderful letter from a publisher? Will I be able to wave my letter in the air and hug my husband and my kids and say, "finally, I AM a WRITER!"

I locate my box number. I look at the sky, I want to remember what kind of a day it is - a nice Spring day, or a cold blustery wind - I turn the silver key, and find: a bill from the Bay, a Children's Hospital Lottery advertisement, and Dominoes Pizza coupons.

I turn to my family - they're waiting in the car, as we're on our way out for supper to celebrate my husband's book deal (he edited an education curriculum book) - my mouth is in a frown and I mock disappointment as I climb back in the vehicle.

"I wanted a book deal too!" I say in a put-on whiny voice.

Kieran says, "You know mom, if you don't get your book published, you can just print it out on our printer at home."

He is so sweet. They all are. I love my boys to the moon and back on a railroad track - to them, I already am a writer, I don't need a publisher to say that. God bless my kids, that's all I can say!

Past 10000

Have you ever heard of a Runner's High? Well, I've got a writer's high. I'm so excited about this novel, I am nearly bursting! It's a very personal story, and in order to tell it honestly and as truly as possible (the real bits), I am planning to use a pseudonym. Strange, isn't it? I've wanted my whole life to be published and to be a writer and make my family proud, and now I'm not even going to use my real name!

So, how does one go about choosing a new name? I've been brainstorming names that have meaning for me - and trying out a first name that is a little similar to my own. I don't want anything pretentious or glamorous, but one that seems a natural fit for me.

I'm open for suggestions - anyone see a perfect-fit name for me?

7000 words and adding

I've started on my Young Adult novel, and I'm quite excited about it. I'm writing when Aidan is napping, or in the evening when the boys are in bed.

I have to resist the urge to be too critical. This is a rough draft. It doesn't have to be perfect right now. Just keep writing. Things are rolling fairly well, so I must keep up with the momentum.

Just write.

Keep writing.

Just get it down.

This is the stage I'm at now. I'm hopeful.

Must Acquire Gumption

I am trying to prepare a few manuscripts for submission, I've researched publishers, and am writing cover letters. Soon, I will kiss my stories goodbye and send them out.

I look at the estimated time to hear back from publisher - 3-6 months, and think, "but I can't wait that long." Then I see it may take up to 2 years for the story to be actually published. What a slow, tedious process. Uggh! It makes me wonder if it's worth the effort. But then I think, "of course it is. If you're I writer, you have to jump through the hoops."

Who cares if it takes 2 years or 10. It's part of the process, and part of the walk I've decided to take. Must have courage. Must try.

Wish me luck.

The Energizer Mommy . . .

I have been giving it my all at the gym twice a week with a trainer and my little group. When I can, on the other days, I walk or run. I feel really wonderful after a workout - like I'm the Energizer Mommy, and I can keep going and going, and. . . okay, you get the picture.

Exercise is going well, it's the eating properly that I've been struggling with. I find it very difficult to make healthy food choices - especially when I'm tired. I was up until 4:00 AM on Tuesday, working on my assignment for class, and it took me a few days to recover from the lack of sleep. I guess I'm not 20 anymore! Last night I had to get out of the house, so I went to the Mall. I walked around Winners, looking at clothes (sometimes the thought of trying on clothes and seeing a smaller dress size is motivating for me!). So, there I was trying to get motivated to keep on track, and all I could think of was going to Starbucks to buy a gooey type of square. Something with chocolate and caramel. Maybe a cookie crust. Mmmn, yummy.

I tried to fight the temptation, really I did. . . but all I could think about was the gooey goodness, and I found myself riding down the escalator - floating single-mindedly towards that ultra rich bite that would take me out of the moment and leave me in a spa-like state. My mouth was watering. . . this moment was to die for!

I was getting closer, I could hear the cappucino machines. I could smell the dark roast coffee like a little cloud of heaven. My nose was in the air, and my feet were barely touching the tile floor. I was almost there. So close, so bloody close...

And then, I ran into Laura, one of my new workout buddies. There she was, in the shop right beside Starbucks. Ordering vegetable stir-fry.

Damn.

Away flew my dream of chocolate square elation!! I simply could not go in and order something sinful. Her very presence reminded me that I needed - I WANTED - to stay on track.

Oh, God, I almost hugged her. (Except that I don't know her very well, and wasn't sure if that would be oh, you know, weird.)

We exchanged pleasantries. I told her she saved me from baaaad stuff, man.

I left, went back up the escalator. I was feeling pretty darned good. No gooey chocolate/caramel/cookie-bottom added to my waste, I could go home with my head held high.

Then, as I got off the escalator I noticed the candy machines, and the little Reeses Pieces that I love.

I looked in my wallet, and low and behold, one quarter! It was meant to be - and I thought to myself, "self, go ahead. What's a quarters worth of candy going to do to you?" So, I squatted down. I put my quarter in the little slot. I turned the dial. I heard the plink, plink, plink as the candy was released into the little shute. I slowly lifted the little doorway. I let the orange and brown pieces of wonderfulness fall into my hand. I was just scooting the last few out of the shute and into my palm, when I noticed this man standing beside me.

"Hi."
"Hello there."
"Those look good."
"Yes, they do."
"If I give you a dime, can you give me a quarter so I can get some too?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, that was my last quarter."
"Could I have some, anyway? I really need some of those."
"Oh, okay, sure. I don't mind."

And, I poured them into his hand. All those yummy bits.

Now, here's my question - which guardian angel of mine nudged this man over to take my candy? Hmmn?