I had an idea

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...and it included a story that might be considered fanfiction. Strange, I've never done fanfiction before. Not seriously. I'm not going to do it now, either...[not that there's anything wrong with it]...but my characters will be based/inspired on a couple I watched in a movie this week.

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In other news:
I told my kids to brush their teeth. My daughter is yelling at my son to brush his teeth. I yell, why are you yelling at your brother?
He didn't brush his teeth!
Why do you care about his teeth? [pretty sure she doesn't. she just feels injustice in the air]
He didn't brush his teeth!
If he says he brushed his teeth, fine. I replied.
But--!
If he's lying, Jesus will take care of it! I don't have to!!! Is what I called out.
I might have made a deal out of his lying...cuz, he was...as far as I know, lying...but she'd already made such a huge stink.
And now they're both yelling... ALOT. and they'll be in their rooms after school.
:-) Yay me.

Happy Birthday

/
Edgar Allen Poe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door." 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrowFrom my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating," 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearingDoubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore." 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;For we cannot help agreeing that no living human beingEver yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke onlyThat one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disasterFollowed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden boreOf "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linkingFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressingTo the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease recliningOn the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'erShe shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor."Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hathSent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! "Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floorShall be lifted---nevermore!

Speed Bumps

/
I think it was the Commonwealth of Virginia that used to have signs along the road that said, HUMP everytime there was a speed bump on the road. Why? What kind of idiot has to go against the standard and be different? Needless to say, those signs didn't last. I think they say, Speek Hump, which is still weird. My husband would look at me funny everytime we passed one of those signs and I'd say, "Now?" and he'd say, "It's the law." LMAO.
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I've hit a few speed bumps since the New Year so I decided to slow down. Funny thing, though, someone said to me, slow down! The publishing industry works/runs very slooooowly. I think slowing down is a fine idea, but I'm not sure that's the reason for it. I mean, who cares how slow the industry goes? This is NOTHING against the friend who said that. I agree that the industry allows me the flexibility to set a pace that isn't going to stress me out. [something I hadn't done...and i was a little stressed]
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On the other hand, lucky me that the industry makes such slow progress, because I can do two or three times the amount of work in the same amount of time it takes them to read my query, request and deny my manuscript [yes, the other option is accept/contract...but let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?]. In a way, the industry is giving writers everything we need to be the best we can be...TIME.
~~~~~~~~
So, stop grumbling and WRITE!
LOL
Have a great week.

Looking Back *wince*

/
2008




Sometimes, looking back can be a bit depressing. The actual goal accomplishment could be considered lacking. I didn't finish the ww2. I'm not even going to finish the catagory I started in November for Nano [although, i'm so close...i may just call it a win :P].
In the midst of another familial transition, aka moving to a cornfield, I can still attest to several satisfying moments.



12 months of not getting pregnant


10 new critique partners and friends at Passionate Critters.


8 weeks to finish a catagory-length romance


6 birthdays


4 seasons survived without gaining anymore weight


2 things I learned about my writing


1 couple, still happily married


I learned confidence this year. It took months of sometimes agonizing review and gads of solicited advice to realize...

I can write.

I learned that I can edit and with a few helpful readers and critiquers, I can succeed.

Monday Inspiration

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I appreciate people who are civil, whether they mean it or not. I think: Be civil. Do not cherish your opinion over my feelings. There's a vanity to candor that isn't really worth it. Be kind.
Richard Greenberg, NY Times Magazine, 03-26-2006
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There are times I have to remind myself of this.
That is all...
Have the best, productive, inspired, happy, LAST three days of 2008!

The Last Weekend of the Year

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I haven't told my family yet, but I'm going to be writing every spare minute from now until the New Year in order to finish this story. The one I started on October 31st is at 50K+ words. I've got several key scenes to incorporate in hopes of adding another 10-15K. In a week! Oh God! I just realized how unlikely that is!!!

*breathe*

It's okay. I can do this...

Check back later for new news on my Work in Progress. *wink*

Hello Christmas

/
I see you peeking at me from around the corner.

I'm too smart for you...

You can't kill my joy...

So what if there are only FIVE more days left to go shopping?

So what if I don't have a menu put together?

Christmas will be wonderful because I'm with my family...and we don't need lots of presents or perfectly manipulated menus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
48,582 On the WIP. WHOOT!
951 a day to the NEW YEAR
Must get some more done.

I don't wanna be a Giant

/
I braved the snow covered roads today, TWICE, in order to do some shopping. My first stop was a combo grocery and Christmas, the second was just grocery. The first trip I had my youngest with me and the second, my next older [i really can't stand when people say first and second youngest. Is is just me or does that not make sense? and who is the first youngest? The one who was born first and is now older???? Just sayin'].

My third child and I were checking out and he said in a very serious voice, "I don't wanna be a Giant." [it was that tone that indicates I've been telling him to do something for some time and am trying to convince him how wonderful it will be--a little whiny, but mostly desperate pleading] We weren't even talking about Giants...or David...or Monsters, Inc. Nope. Just out of nowhere. He doesn't want to be a Giant. I told him that was fine.

He mentioned a few minutes later that he would stop eating now so he didn't get bigger. [OMGosh. He's so cute.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe it's my imagination, but the conversation ignited that paranormal gene inside of my DNA. Wouldn't that be fun if it was a [still cute, yet] serious conversation? It made me think of the stories I've read that encompass shifters and magicians. I can just as easily imagine Jasha and Ann's oldest saying, "I don't wanna be a wolf."
Isn't this what fiction is all about? Creating alternate realities. Imagining a different set of rules. Speaking of rules... This got me thinking a few weeks ago when I asked her opinion on the intimacy issues of my Hero and Heroine. Should they have sex before they are married? Will they wait? She asked me when the story was set because if it was fifty years [or more] ago than it would matter, right? If it's today, it probably doesn't matter.
Well, I can understand her confusion. But I could only respond what I knew in my heart. That I didn't think God's laws had changed. I ruminated on this topic for a while, though didn't ever bring it back up with her. In any case, I think our stories are like that. We make a set of rules, perhaps guidelines, that will dictate how our characters will act AND how those actions will make them feel. There are some rules that we can bend or manipulate or recreate, but there are also the founding rules. In Vicki Pettersson's Scent of Shadows, her superheroes could only cross into a different realm at the exact point between day and night. Changing this would ultimately change the story. I suspect, this is a rule that will very rarely be broken...if it can be broken at all.
On the other hand... my hubby paid the dentist an exorbitant amount of money today because the receptionist told him he had to. A week before Christmas??? OMGosh! I said to him, WHAT?
You should have told her you didn't have your check book. That's what I do.
"My wife lies." He responded, somewhat amused.
"Yes! You didn't have to pay that right now. They could have billed you." Hell, who carries that kind of money anyway? And it's not like they told him before hand and prepared him. UGH! Sheesh. I would have told them I only had a certain amount of money then paid that amount. That way they would know I'm serious. I'm not trying to jip them, but come on!!! A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS?? *eyeroll* *sigh*
Purgatory, anyone?