Monday, March 22, 2010
"Writing a first draft is very much like watching a Polaroid develop. You can't--and, in fact you're not supposed to--know exactly what the picture is going to look like until it has finished developing." --Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
With my manuscript, I feel as if I'm driving down a winding road completely lost (I'm directionally-impaired so this happens often). Or as if I'm whacking my way through the jungle. In the beginning I thought I was headed to a river on other side; but now I'm not sure. I might even find a gorgeous waterfall along the way and stop there. Being a planner, this is odd for me; but not knowing where I'll end up is feeling manically free.
Do you know where you're headed with your manuscript?
Saturday, March 13, 2010
With this week's theme, I decided not to write a fictional piece but instead share from a book that helped change everything for me. Here is an excerpt from The Chronicles of Narnia: The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis:
"Are you not thirsty?" said the Lion.
"I'm dying of thirst," said Jill.
"Then drink," said the Lion.
"May I--could I--would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
"Will you promise not to--do anything to me, if I do come?" asked Jill.
"I make no promise," said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
"Do you eat girls?" she said.
"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I supposed I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the Lion.
It never occurred to Jill to disbelieve the Lion--no one who had seen his stern face could do that--and her mind suddenly made itself up. It was the worst thing she had ever had to do, but she went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn't need to drink much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once. Before she tasted it she had been intending to make a dash away from the Lion the moment she had finished. Now, she realized that this would be on the whole the most dangerous thing of all. She got up and stood there with her lips still wet from drinking.
A sleepover happened here.
The snack chair (much depleted at this point).
Last night my twelve-year-old daughter had three friends over. They giggled in the van, in the movie store, on the trampoline, on the floor playing games, at the table painting their nails, on the couch watching Ponyo and in their beds until they fell asleep at 12:30ish. SERIOUSLY. I don't think they stopped once.
My fifteen-year-old daughter gave me an exasperated look about half-way through. I told her it wasn't too different with her friends.
She said, "I know. I'm feeling sorry for you and Dad right now."
Thank goodness the youngest is a boy. ;)
Myrna Foster gave me this award. I love it because I'm so ready for spring I could burst and these flowers give me hope that it might near.
I'm going to pass it along to these sweet ladies:
Cross Your T's
A Woman's Write
Art by Jema
Play Off the Page
As always, don't feel obligated if you don't "do" awards. Just know I was thinking of you. :)
Thursday, March 11, 2010
I feel lucky in life; I have two best girlfriends. One who's known me since birth. Literally. And the other who calls herself "the third twin". (Yes I know it should be triplet but she prefers her title) With them I can be myself. A brat at times. Hyper at others. Silly, thoughtful, optimistic, and morose--it doesn't matter. They stick around. Even when I make them mad. They love me and I love them.
Who are your closest friends?
*Art inspired by Kelly Rae Roberts.