The first step is admitting you have a problem.

My favorite old joke from many movies and TV shows is the one that goes, "Refusing to admit you're an alcoholic is the first sign you're an alcoholic!" and then the other guy says, "That's also the first sign of NOT being an alcoholic."

The reason this occurs to me is that I'm all listening to and reading food and nutrition books and trying to eat all healthy, and here I am sitting here with stale graham crackers and a tub of cream cheese frosting.

It is SO HARD to spread frosting on stale graham crackers. They're breakaway stale, not soft and mushy stale (I wouldn't eat them if they were mushy).

But... why?

Why?

And why am I sharing this?

In other news, after a lovely conversation (I came so close to using the word "convo") with Agent M, I am rip-roaring on a new project that has been seeping into my mind grapes. This is temporarily displacing Other New Project, which I had begun before my second round of revisions on BGDD, and which I was starting to ask myself hard questions about. After I decided to move forward with Project X, which is not the title, just a nickname, I was explaining to the husb my issues with Project W, which is not the title of the other book, just a nickname.

My point is that he said, "Why don't you set it in XYZ instead of ABC?" and I was like, "Ohhhhhh."

Sometimes, when the magic of writing isn't enough, we can use the magic of other people's offhand observations.

Will someone please come wrestle these graham crackers out of my hand? Or just, you know, crush them in my palm?

A bit of this and a bit of that and a song about birds.

You know you were cut out for a life of luxury when nature creates you with a built-in sleep mask.

Last night I dreamed that I got to see the cover of my book. It looked like a Dr. Phil book -- a red background with a photo on the front, and the title at the bottom in a very conservative gold/brown print. I immediately freaked out and started suggesting changes. In my dream, I even explained the Photoshop techniques for achieving the end I had in mind. It was probably a pretty cool cover.

My title is probably changing, but more on that later.

I am off and writing on the next book. This one is different; I was trying to decide third person or first, and I settled on first person present tense. It fits the character and her situation, I think. I feel like I'm writing without a net, but I think that's how I always feel. I am also going to do a little more mapping out of this book than I usually do, but that will come in the near future. I need to get inside the character's head for a while first.

Dog show is in progress once more. It's funny, because there are other shows at my company, and some producer from another show said something jokey about the dog shows. This person was immediately shut down (as the tale was told to me, at least). The thing is, doing something 20+ times does not make it easier -- not if you want every show to be better than the last. It makes it more challenging. You are always setting out to conquer your previous effort.

Thanks for all the bird sympathy. A friend at work, on hearing about the birds, said, "Oh, I have a great quote for you." I thought it might be something like Spring is a time when life renews, and new life faces adversity and triumphs etc. etc. etc. No, her quote was something like Spring is cruel to the weak and unfit or something. It made me laugh.

I think the Indigo Girls actually said it better.

Fly Away

Fly away little bird
Any place in this open mouthed world
Begs to be fed like a bed that beckons you, but you won't rest
Everyone's got a need to go
Most of us stick with our row to hoe
But not you, you're the black crow
With a straight line, and no time
For the birds of prey who wreck your nest
Twice your size steal your best
They set you on this course of your collision

I am a stop along your way
I am the words you'll never say
I crossed the great beyond of fear
I opened my eyes and saw us there, what a view
You went there too

Fly away little bird
Find the song in you that no one's heard
Strenghthen your wings as you sing your solo flight
Through this short life
Everyone's got a deep regret
We try to ground ourselves to forget
But your race to the end is neck and neck
You love them, you love them not
The birds of prey who wreck your nest,
Twice your size steal your best
They set you on this course of your collision

I am a stop along your way
I am the words you'll never say
I crossed the great beyond of fear
Opened my eyes and saw us there, what a view
And you went there too

But all along your chosen path are
Window panes and sheets of glass
That you won't see
You fly too fast
One day it will be over

Fly away little bird
The saddest song I ever heard
Was the one I wrote you in my heart
That never made it to the world.

Why I do not have children (or kittens): a writing fable

Today, two things happened (again):

1) I forgot another fresh idea (at the time thinking, "Gosh, I wish I had something to record this onto" -- as I used to carry a little digital voice recorder in the car -- and also thinking, "Well, surely I won't forget THIS one.")

Bah humbug!

2) I converted a rough shell of an idea to YA and suddenly it found its voice. And now I am thuper excited about this story, wanting to dive right into it and forsake all others.

But I recognize this behavior in myself: I call it a maternal instinct toward my stories. You know how a mom cat will fight to the death to defend her kittens? And she's all over them for a while, feeding them and cleaning them and nosing them around so they get up and walk like real cats? But then a few months pass and she's over them, kind of?

That's how I get with new ideas. If something jumps up out of the murky subconscious and plays its cards just right and strikes me as the Hot New Thing, I get all googly over it. I explain it to the husb in the most loving but vague terms (which leaves him puzzled yet polite and encouraging), and I make lists of character names, and I start plotting things out, and OH, it's just awesome. I would write it a love poem if I were willing to waste that creative energy on anything but caring for my beautiful new idea.

And then, once I have a few pages of notes, and maybe a first page (I love to write first pages), and some characters written out, and a couple of other random things in place...

I kick it out of the nest and go back to my Work In Progress -- you know, the one that's Almost Done. The one that needs time and love but not that fervent, breathless passion. The kind you can work on because you have your hands in the clay of it; kneading and working on the story and characters.

If the hatchling is meant to fly, it will spread its little wings and mind its own business for a while.

If the hatchling is not meant to fly, well...


Comments from original posting:

Eileen said...
I do this too! I have this LOVE affair with a fresh new idea.
7:48 PM

Maia said...
I have too many first pages of Hot New Things cogitating on my computer, too. I guess they are half baked ideas that may one day provide some inspiration for a bigger project, or maybe they're just products of my half baked imagination!
5:13 AM

(reply to Kristy's comment)

Well, Kristy was kind enough to indulge me and ask what AM I working on next, so here it is in the squirreliest of terms:

A YA thriller/romance (surprise! -- get used to those) about a girl from LA who has to deal with the unexpected death of her best friend.

Three ways this book has challenged me:

1. The main character doesn't need me as much as Alexis did (sob!) -- she has a much better developed sense of who she is.
2. It has a deceptively simple mystery underlying it -- which means lots of hiding and hinting and planning ahead.
3. It involves journals and diaries and I've had to learn to work those into the narrative smoothly.

So anyhoo, there you go! That's all I'm saying.