You know that obnoxious jerk who says his or her "big problem" is that they're too rich to work and too young to retire? It's not me.
But I took some obnoxious pride at the Surrey Writer's Conference in hearing about problems I could and don't have as a storyteller. For one, blogging is apparently a dangerous addiction. I can understand why, especially if you have an audience for it. And especially because any major work is a major amount of work (hence the term), and delays gratification for a job well done, well, a long time. Nevertheless, I am one who must remind myself to blog at least once every five or six months. Necessary? Debatable. But let's pretend for a second that someone someday will be madly interested in every brewing monologue I cooked up while not in another world. At least I can deliver without losing control.
I can write description that doesn't bog down. To be fair, this is because it's my least favourite part of the writing. Look at almost any chapter of mine in its final stages of completion, you'll see flowing dialogue with {some kind of mountain} or {pretty tree} still in note brackets. The established author who did my Blue Pencil (editing your manuscript in front of you) approved my single-sentence setting of a "noisy, crowded bar," saying so many writers would have gone on in detail before starting their story, and she'd been waiting to see that so she could tell me not to do it!
All in all, a very encouraging Writer's Conference and way more relaxing than last year. Drescopata took a backseat, and I pitched a couple of storybooks to a publisher. I am convinced I have more of those, plus a stand-alone novel to do before I'll really have a chance with the big series.
On the way home from the Conference, I met a writer who has kids I might get to babysit;-) We had a good, long talk and of course I had to admit how many books there are going to be in my series. A scene from "Cheaper by the Dozen" comes to mind: Steve Martin on the phone, trying to find all sorts of don't-scare-the-help-off ways to say he has twelve kids. I've done the exact same thing with my books.
And...random brag...I think I just aced an interview to be a substitute childcare worker!
Quote from Writer's Conference: "If you never leave the house, you'll have nothing to write about."
Song from Early Childhood Education (to the tune of Frere Jacque): "I hear thunder, I hear thunder, Hark don't you?, Hark don't you?, Pitter patter raindrops, Pitter patter raindrops, I'm wet through, I'm wet through. I see blue skies, I see blue skies, Way up high, Way up high, Hurry up the sunshine, Hurry up the sunshine, I'll soon dry, I'll soon dry."
Currently Writing: Chapter 10 of Diamond (second Drescopata novel), Chapter 1 of stand-alone (still in rough notes).
Other Quotes:
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." -- E.L. Doctorow
"Science fiction is no more written for scientists than ghost stories are written for ghosts." -- Brian Aldiss
"The pen is mightier than the sword, and considerably easier to write with." -- Marty Feldman
What is the longest word in the English language? "Smiles" — because there’s a mile between the first and last letter.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Big City Student
My roommates and I moved to Vancouver a couple weeks ago. I am attending classes in which we practice the important career skills of making games out of blocks and drawing faces in shaving cream. What do you mean you need me to elaborate? What do you all do in your higher education? No way, really?
Confessionally speaking, I have been academically resistant since grade 12 and recently decided to embrace the fact that I just miss preschool. So I'm learning to teach them, and hopefully I'll learn how to write for them too. You know, before Robert Munsch got published, he worked in Daycares and just told his stories for the fun of it, to entertain the kids. His boss found out about it and made him take time off to write his stories down and try to get them published. Amazing, huh? He sent 10 stories out to 10 publishers and got 1 accepted. Since I'm pretty full of myself when it comes to the publishing ambition, I guess I'll be doing it backwards. Take time "less" (not "off") writing while I see if there's anything to this teaching ability people think I might have. I think I might have it too, but it's like Munsch and the way he first did storytelling (career potential? Ummm...really?)
Don't get me wrong: I know I'll teach for years before writing starts looking anything like a survivable alternative. Doesn't mean it won't be my career. And it doesn't mean that I won't love teaching preschoolers so much that I'll want to stick with it.
I want to thank my 40-hour work week cleaning flooded concrete floors and soot-stained white walls for getting me back into school. As you can tell by this post, my time is not so used up that personal project time can't thrive and be happy. This might change when I get a part-time job (to pay the bills while I'm in school), but the longest I'll let that mess with me is until next April. By then I will be certified to work in Daycares and Preschools, and work in them I will.
I'm adding some info snippets to the end of these posts. If details in my "Currently Writing" list stay exactly the same from one post to the next, anyone who cares to is strongly encouraged to scold me for my slow, lazy progress.
Quote of the Month: Jon says "Computers are somebody’s drunken third cousin."
Favourite Joke: The children were lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray: "Take only ONE. God is watching." At the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. A child had written a note, "Take all you want. God is watching the apples!"
Coolest Dream: I outran an elephant to the skytrain station, only to pop back to the same spot at home to repeat the run after the skytrain had taken me safely away. By the time I started this second run, the elephant was a carnivorous T-Rex, so rather than just being crushed, there was this added danger of being eaten. The T-Rex was chasing a smaller dinosaur at the skytrain station. I crouched on the train tracks and watched over the edge. As far as I know, I was not electrocuted, caught by the T-Rex or the oncoming train. Yay!
Currently Writing: Okal Rel anthology story (public promise, mom!), chapter 9 of Diamond (2nd Drescopata novel), poems for kids (eventual book-length collection), and brainstorms for new stand-alone sci-fi novel.
Confessionally speaking, I have been academically resistant since grade 12 and recently decided to embrace the fact that I just miss preschool. So I'm learning to teach them, and hopefully I'll learn how to write for them too. You know, before Robert Munsch got published, he worked in Daycares and just told his stories for the fun of it, to entertain the kids. His boss found out about it and made him take time off to write his stories down and try to get them published. Amazing, huh? He sent 10 stories out to 10 publishers and got 1 accepted. Since I'm pretty full of myself when it comes to the publishing ambition, I guess I'll be doing it backwards. Take time "less" (not "off") writing while I see if there's anything to this teaching ability people think I might have. I think I might have it too, but it's like Munsch and the way he first did storytelling (career potential? Ummm...really?)
Don't get me wrong: I know I'll teach for years before writing starts looking anything like a survivable alternative. Doesn't mean it won't be my career. And it doesn't mean that I won't love teaching preschoolers so much that I'll want to stick with it.
I want to thank my 40-hour work week cleaning flooded concrete floors and soot-stained white walls for getting me back into school. As you can tell by this post, my time is not so used up that personal project time can't thrive and be happy. This might change when I get a part-time job (to pay the bills while I'm in school), but the longest I'll let that mess with me is until next April. By then I will be certified to work in Daycares and Preschools, and work in them I will.
I'm adding some info snippets to the end of these posts. If details in my "Currently Writing" list stay exactly the same from one post to the next, anyone who cares to is strongly encouraged to scold me for my slow, lazy progress.
Quote of the Month: Jon says "Computers are somebody’s drunken third cousin."
Favourite Joke: The children were lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray: "Take only ONE. God is watching." At the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. A child had written a note, "Take all you want. God is watching the apples!"
Coolest Dream: I outran an elephant to the skytrain station, only to pop back to the same spot at home to repeat the run after the skytrain had taken me safely away. By the time I started this second run, the elephant was a carnivorous T-Rex, so rather than just being crushed, there was this added danger of being eaten. The T-Rex was chasing a smaller dinosaur at the skytrain station. I crouched on the train tracks and watched over the edge. As far as I know, I was not electrocuted, caught by the T-Rex or the oncoming train. Yay!
Currently Writing: Okal Rel anthology story (public promise, mom!), chapter 9 of Diamond (2nd Drescopata novel), poems for kids (eventual book-length collection), and brainstorms for new stand-alone sci-fi novel.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Raindrops on Roses
Warning: there have been pre-theme posts. That's right. This is now my happy blog. Run while you can if those morning dewdrops look like soggy, damp roses to you. Glorious Mud at http://hicups.wordpress.com/ is for my muddier what's-wrong-with-life sarcasm (such as my first post here about freelance scams). This way, my online presence is well balanced, so...
Whiskers on kittens. "Misser Mischeif" — as I call him to his cute little whiskered face, "Moon Cat" as he's known to my housemates — has been fixed. He's being a pretty good sport about the cone-collar he has to wear around his neck. It reminds me so much of the bulky retainers some kids get stuck with. When Misser Mischeif is not trying to get his off, he's very cuddly, rubbing his poor coned-off head against my face, touching his nose to mine, and purring at the top of his lungs whether I choose to pet, hold, or tolerate him. He either really enjoys my company, or figures I'm the weak link for violating his vet orders out of sympathy.
Bright copper kettles. Hey, I love our plain plastic kettle! Unless you're crazy about shiny things, I think the real sentiment behind must be the joy of hot water.
Warm woolen mittens. It's not winter here (ha-ha, Prince George;-)
Brown paper packages tied up with strings. Ah, now these always could be anyone's favourite thing. What would be in mine? Well, the obvious answer is my free copy of my published novel. In the meantime: food, always a good thing. And I like soap. You know, I once dreamed that I was rich enough to own a limosine and guess what my clueless dream self did with it? Hired a guy to drive her back and forth to PriceSmart so she could buy cheap, bare-minimum groceries!
I finally found a joke I liked in my e-mail this morning:
A photographer, a journalist and an editor rub a magic lamp together. The genie says he'll grant them each one wish. The photographer wishes to spend the rest of his life in a big house far away with no money problems. The journalist wishes to live in a yacht far away with no money problems. The genie grants both their wishes and asks for the editor's wish. The editor says: "I want them both back after lunch; we have a deadline."
Whiskers on kittens. "Misser Mischeif" — as I call him to his cute little whiskered face, "Moon Cat" as he's known to my housemates — has been fixed. He's being a pretty good sport about the cone-collar he has to wear around his neck. It reminds me so much of the bulky retainers some kids get stuck with. When Misser Mischeif is not trying to get his off, he's very cuddly, rubbing his poor coned-off head against my face, touching his nose to mine, and purring at the top of his lungs whether I choose to pet, hold, or tolerate him. He either really enjoys my company, or figures I'm the weak link for violating his vet orders out of sympathy.
Bright copper kettles. Hey, I love our plain plastic kettle! Unless you're crazy about shiny things, I think the real sentiment behind must be the joy of hot water.
Warm woolen mittens. It's not winter here (ha-ha, Prince George;-)
Brown paper packages tied up with strings. Ah, now these always could be anyone's favourite thing. What would be in mine? Well, the obvious answer is my free copy of my published novel. In the meantime: food, always a good thing. And I like soap. You know, I once dreamed that I was rich enough to own a limosine and guess what my clueless dream self did with it? Hired a guy to drive her back and forth to PriceSmart so she could buy cheap, bare-minimum groceries!
I finally found a joke I liked in my e-mail this morning:
A photographer, a journalist and an editor rub a magic lamp together. The genie says he'll grant them each one wish. The photographer wishes to spend the rest of his life in a big house far away with no money problems. The journalist wishes to live in a yacht far away with no money problems. The genie grants both their wishes and asks for the editor's wish. The editor says: "I want them both back after lunch; we have a deadline."
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