26 August 2008

Crank It Up

It never fails to amaze me when I'm driving along in the car, minding my own business, Song of the Day cranked up as loud as I can take it, and suddenly

BAM!

I get fwapped on the head by the huge-est of epiphanies about a story I thought I knew inside out.

It happened again this morning.

Now just yesterday I had the huge-est of epiphanies that this particular Song of the Day (Viva La Vida by Cold Play, of all bands...!) is NOT about the character I thought it was, but about someone else entirely and makes so much more sense that way. So I was not expecting another huge epiphany, not so soon after the other one.

But there I was, squinting through the pre-dawn dark made even darker by the blessed rain that dear ol' Fay has delivered (it hasn't rained here in a month), Song of the Day cranked up really, really loud - like, loud enough that I could feel the drum bit reverberating in my chest. And as I'm sitting there, squinting and cursing my windshield wipers for not moving fast enough to keep up with the rain, the Back of my Mind is chewing on the lyrics of Song of the Day (played over and over and over) as they apply to the proper character and her personal history (violent, bloody, vengeful - oh, but she is fun!) and out the blue (well, the blue-black - it was painfully early) comes this:

It was the Norn who built the Temples, the Han had nothing to do with them.

And in the background is this character peering at me with the tiniest of amused little grins as if she has known this all along and has been withholding the information merely so she could amuse herself by surprising me with it like this. (She's almost as bad as Lars, this one.)

Anyway, I am fairly blown away, because it was one of those sticky little back story things about the history of Imbue (the world where my fantasy stories take place) that I could never quite figure out how to fit togther with the time of Novel #1. And it's just SO COOL because it fits so perfectly with what I already know and it solves the problem of how I could never make the Han mythology fit with the Temple/Tower complex because it doesn't.

*sigh*

Anyway, it just goes to show, that if you crank the tunes loud enough, everything works itself out eventually.

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19 August 2008

Back to School

It's funny the way the brain works. Sometimes it's in Create Mode -- that's when I'm writing -- and sometimes, like now, it's in Sponge Mode.

Sponge Mode is just what it sounds like -- the brain just wants to soak up everything it encounters. Eventually, it will get saturated and things will start to drip out. In other words, we'll be back to Create Mode. :D

For the moment, though, I'm a thirsty sponge. So thirsty, in fact, that as I mentioned before, I signed up for a class at FPU, a class in Human Genetics, a graduate level class, come to that (eep!). I'll be in way over my head, no doubt, but that's OK. That's where I've been with almost every manuscript I've edited over the last 5 years. I'm used to it.

But on top of that, I'm doing the homework for the statistics workshop I'll be taking in October and I'm peeking at the epidemiology textbook I have every once in a while and I'm still working my way through Holly Lisle's Clinics...

So this morning I realized that, essentially, I've got a full course load this fall: Human Genetics, Statistics, Epidemiology and Creative Writing.

With all that going on, it won't surprise me in the least if the brain fills up and starts overflowing in a couple of weeks -- I'll be itching to write and won't be able to because of all this incoming stuff!

Just figures, don't it?

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17 August 2008

Yes, I'm Alive

Too busy to even think about having anything to say, but here's what's been shakin' the last few weeks:

  • School started.
  • My parents came to visit.
  • Ms. Beautiful, her daughter and her still-in-utero twin sons visited.
  • I signed up for a workshop and registered for this year's medical writers conference.
  • I tried not to faint when I saw the charge for the conference on my credit card statement.
  • All the visitors left.
  • I signed up for a class (a class! what am i thinking?) at FPU.
  • OK, I'm auditing a class at FPU (which proves that I'm not totally crazy).
  • We watched lots of Olympics. I mean, LOTS.
  • Oh, and we cleaned the house yesterday (since it was starting to fester).

And I have done zippo as far as writing.

Boo, hiss. I had great plans and that synopsis was really starting to gel and then illness had a party with obligation and it got all set aside for 'some other time', preferably one when I wasn't exhausted, covered with vomit and/or supposed to be doing Something of Critical Importance to the Fate of the World (the world of my family, anyway).

I don't expect I'll get back to writing before the end of the Olympics, because they come on during my 'writing time' and they only come around every 4 years and I'll be damned if I'm gonna miss something amazing just because one of my characters is having a moment. So there.

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09 August 2008

Happy Birthday, Ms. Baby!


She turns two today (at 11:45 pm to be exact). I like two. They can talk enough to make themselves understood and 90% of what they say is just so damn cute you want to write it all down so it will be preserved for all eternity (but, of course, you can't because the minute you turn your back, they've emptied the supposedly child-proofed bathroom cabinet and started taste testing your soap collection...).

We'll have cake and ice cream tomorrow, since everybody's too exhausted (and germy) from the last bout of Childhood Illness 101 to even open presents today (OK, yeah - or even to wrap presents today...), and being two, Ms. Baby won't really know the difference. But we did sing Happy Birthday to her and she thought that was pretty cool.

Here's to many more, squirt!

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Holly Lisle's husband has a really excellent article up on The Escapist website about the Adventure Known as Parenting.

It's really well written - clever and funny - so check it out (because I said so...).

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08 August 2008

God Fucking Dammit!

Apologies for that name in vain thing. Apologies for the four letter word thing. Apologies for nothing else.

I. Am. Pissed.

Ms. Six is sick. AGAIN. AGAIN!

She puked all night and is now running a scary-high fever. I have calls in to all known RNs in the family. And I have calls in to all mothers and mothers-in-law. And I have calls in to her pediatrician. And...

Wait just a fucking second.

Didn't we JUST fucking go through this, like, two weeks ago??!??!!!

Oh, yeah. Yeah, we did.

Fucking. A.

WHY does this keep happening? WHY are my kids CONSTANTLY sick?

If this were happening to me, I'd be taking it as a sure sign that something in my life was out of balance and that I needed to change it. So am I being a horrible mother? A horrible housekeeper? Am I feeding them horribly wrong? Am I horrible person for working and not staying home so I can keep them out of daycare where every nasty fucking germ on the fucking planet seems to hang out?

GGGrrrrrrarrrahhh!

Who knows. Maybe childhood illnesses are not subject to philisophical meaderings and I should just suck it the fuck up.

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07 August 2008

Time Warp

I just spent an hour looking at photos from my high school's 20th reunion.

I didn't go. And I think I'm glad.

Well, sorta. It would have been neat seeing some of those people. But it would have been heartbreaking seeing others. (And, quite possibly, as annoying as it ever was to see the rest.)

All in all, though, it was just really shocking.

I mean, crikey - who WERE all those fat, old people??? (and somebody please, please, please tell me I'm not one of them...)

*pants, clutches chest*

OK, OK - I'm overreacting. I know I shouldn't be, but it was... disturbing... to go from this image I had of people - an image from 20 years ago - to these gray-haired, pot-bellied folk. I didn't even recognize most of them. A few here and there, I could come up with names for, but the rest melded into a sea of vaguely familiar faces.

What stood out were the smiles. The smiles and the eyes. Those were the two things that went whizzing into the dark reaches of my brain and connected with something, and then the something triggered something else somewhere that went "Oh! I should know that person..." And then I'd squint at the name tag, curse the photographer for putting the word 'Proof' right in the middle of what I needed to see, and sometimes figure it out and sometimes not.

I don't suppose it would be quite as shocking, had I had any contact with these people over the last 20 years. But I'm not good at that. In some ways, I see my past as a prison, and once you escape a prison or have served your time, why would you go back?

Makes me wonder what I'll do when the next one of these shindigs comes around.

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