Summer Goals

I know we make new year’s goals, some of which we keep. This year, however, I decided to make summer goals.

Write everyday

Draw everyday

More yoga

Get out more – now that we’re out of quarantine

Start my back burner projects

I’m sure there’s more, but that’s a good start.

SMART Goals need to be specific, so I learned in the Psychology of Motivation class I took last semester. I’ll work on specificity as well as the other things noted in the YouTube video.

I would love to hear other people’s goals!

Welcome to the world of participation trophies, self publishing, and mediocrity.

I saw a post in one of the writers’ groups. It read something like, “Editing is so expensive, is it really that important?”

Welcome to the world of participation trophies, self publishing, and mediocrity.

I have NOTHING against self publishing (or even participation trophies); however, there are many people who point to these as the problem creating people who don’t try, who don’t work for what they want, who don’t even try to shine.

Yes, there are published books, even from the big 5 publishers, with errors, and author’s cringe because authors work at their craft. They spend weeks and months reading over their WIP thousands of times. Their beta readers read it. Their editors edited it. They rewrote, and edited, edited, and edited for it to be letter perfect. At no time, do any of the authors I know, sit back and say, “eh, does the editing really matter?”

That’s where the real work takes place. That’s writing. Putting words on paper is only the very first part of the job.

The short answer is “yes, editing matters!” Do it yourself or spend the money.

There is far too much crap out there to sift through. If it is not something you feel will shine, win awards, of which you can be proud, put it in your bottom drawer. You can still tell people you’re a writer and your opus is in progress.

A fondness for 4am

4am

The world is different at night. Those early morning hours before the sun rises, it seems no one is awake, no one is moving around ready for the world.

Even if you live in a big city. Maybe you hear some far off traffic. A train somewhere in the distance. Still it seems the world is your private microcosm.

There’s not much one can do at 4am. There are no appointments to keep. No errands to run. No one to call. Polite society (and even maybe not so polite society) are, too, in their own little secular places.

It’s quiet, mostly. It’s serene. The crickets are quieting. The birds are stretching.

All there is to do is reflect, to write, to enjoy the chill in the pre-dawn air, and the peace that has not yet been disturbed.

It’s a special time for us, artists, writers, thinkers to belong. We are separate but together.

I’ll (not) see you there.

Writing Life

I called a friend out of the blue today. I updated her on the weirdness that is my life. People showing up, others moving away, the strange, the wild, the fantastical. Every one, a true story, replayed for my friend.

She commented, you always have so much going on.

I reflected, not by choice. But, doesn’t she? doesn’t everyone?

Maybe the way we talk about our lives is the way we write stories.

Her stories are gentle, calm, always well paced. Her imagination is vast, but her writing is serene, as if you were reading a swan.

My stories are varied. One day I’m writing about someone finding a gold tooth and the next I’m writing about Poe’s hauntings. Mine work at different paces. They surf from one side of the galaxy to the next. My readers are sometimes intrigued, sometimes put off. They like the story of a girl falling in love with a dog, but not the story of a girl talking to mirrors.

One reader wrote, “Who is Noreen Lace?” He’d read Eddy, then ordered How to Throw a Psychic a Surprise Party.

I guess this is me. There’s a lot going on. Remember what they used to say about the quiet ones? Still waters run deep. I’m not very quiet, not very still. I am the river that rushes around the corner and is calmed by the expanse. In some places, I’m deep enough to fall in and drown and, in others, I’m skimming over rocks, just slick enough to pass.

I can’t contain it. I can’t limit it. I can’t label it. And I won’t.

I like ’em short

I’ve been reading and writing novel length works lately. I belong to a few online book groups and people are always posting great reviews of this book or that. Sometimes I pick them up, sometimes I like them. It’s hard for me to find that book that hits the sweet spot – the perfect mix of good writing and a good story.

I love the exceptional use of language. That’s a talent.

In my literature and writing classes, I use Best American Short Stories. I chanced upon an old copy the other day. I read half of the first story and felt engaged, awakened!

Picking up the book of short stories immediately energized me with ideas for short fiction.

The joy of reading a short story happens because they’re tight, no nonsense needed, straight to the point, well written and excellently executed niblets of fiction.

The joy of writing a short story is the challenge. The point, the characters, the setting all expertly set up in concise wording in a small period of time. The use of language is easier to control, the beauty and rhythm easier to accomplish.

I once belonged to a short story group. It was so gratifying to read the short fiction. If you didn’t like what someone chose, you could still read the ten or twenty pages and talk about it. It’s not 300 pages of silently cursing your book group.

So… I’m going to recommend some books of short fiction. Of course, I recommend the Best American Short Story Series. Wonderful writing by newbies and scholars alike!

And mine: But also – I’m a huge fan of Jo Rousseau and Ron Terranova.

Jo Rousseau and Ron Terranova also have websites/blog. Stop by and check them out!

Recharge, Recover, Release.

Recharge, Recover, Release

There are all kinds of tired. Some of which I sleep well, some of which I do not.

Sometimes I’m physically tired. I worked out. I hiked. I did enough manual labor to make my body exhausted. I sleep well on these nights.

There’s mentally tired. My brain wore out from working facts and figures into some sort of rhythmic sense in my world. Sometimes, on these nights, I do not sleep well. I’m disturbed, wondering if it formed into a smooth shape of being.

Then there’s emotionally tired. Dealing with people – angry, upset, unhappy, or even large groups of chaotic masses wear me out. I do not sleep well on these nights. I toss and turn, trying to work out the ugly aura left around me.

But – I never get any of those types of tired from writing. Writing is recharging, recovering, releasing. I let go of the day, the facts and figures, the angry masses, the physical exhaustion, and I’m able to create something that is life giving, soul soothing, and has meaning.

Writing is a way of living free from outside infections.

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