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 |   Exploring the future through the present. One day at a time. |
Anyea  and I had a mini email conversation based on her entry "Invalid Entry"  where she talked about how many books these days lack good characterization. She responded to my comment thusly: Well having been or in a dry spell I almost can't remember! It's so far away from me but I do know what I like when I read something and what bores me silly. It's easy to tell when a writer has actually worked on a character and when they throw up sentences that they are mimic'ing from some other writing. It's weird how a writer can spot stuff the non-writer doesn't see at all. Sometimes I think we are cursed. It can mess up a good read. I have the same problem these days. I can’t seem to disappear into a book – any book lately. Granted I don’t have much time with the little one, editing, etc, but I still miss how I used to devour sometimes 3 books in a week. Being in editor mode doesn’t help either. Like Anyea said, as a writer I tend to critique what I read instead of enjoying it.A curse indeed. I then asked myself, why don’t I do the same thing when I read blogs? I enjoy those just fine. I think it’s a combination of two things. 1. Low expectations (keep reading. It's not what you think). I don’t expect journals to be written and edited to perfection. Most of it is off-the-cuff stuff, full of raw incidences and emotion. That's part of their allure. 2. It’s a conversation. Blogs are more about engaging in conversation not how well it's written. Just like a speech writer doesn’t correct the language of a friend when they’re speaking blogs aren't meant to be edited or critiqued (unless asked for). When I read a book or article, I assume the writer is a professional; one who cares deeply about his or her craft enough to write well, both in structure and characterization. When that expectation isn’t met, I’m left frustrated. Reading is no longer a joy, but a self-imposed critique session. At times like this I wish I hadn’t decided writing was something I wanted to do professionally, but for the mere fun of it or not at all. Now for Thomas’ opinion on this subject: dzd bdr ttr d ddsax,s. N Xqxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxcd / [‘;;;cb vrggggg ,kmm`m njnm n mmmmmmmmmmmmm vbbn bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbvmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmNNMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMU BBBBBBBBGGGGGGYHHB Dvbbbbbbbbbbbbbbvvvvvvvbbbbvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvnmtynmm .; NT B Iujj kijj87yy That’s babytalk for, “Listen to my mommy. She knows what she’s talking about!”  |
| I feel stupid. I know what you're thinking: What else is new? Sheesh come up with something unique to write about will ya! I consider myself a competent writer. I think I know all the "rules" that makes whatever I write easy to understand. Well! I was snookered (isn't that a great word?) by a daily brain teaser I subscribe to on my yahoo home page. Today's Brain Teaser asks "Would you rather a crocodile attack you or an alligator?" I answered it incorrectly, and boy do I feel stupid! As a lover of the written word, I should have answered it right (this is a clue, believe it or not). I won't give the answer here. See if you come up with the correct one. Please, though, don't reveal the answer, but instead let me know if you got it right or wrong. |
| Babies look so fragile, don't they? They can't do so many things until they reach a certain age, completely dependent on their parents. That seeming fragility is far from reality. God made babies tough, and he did so for a very specific and important reason: me. He knew I would do -- or not do -- certain things that should harm the little guy, but in the end only makes him cry for a few minutes. Rufus loves potatoes. Once in a while if she's particularly good, I'll toss one for her to chase and scarf down within forty-five seconds. Standing in the kitchen I decided Rufus deserved a potato. I went to throw it into the living room, but reminded myself to be careful because Thomas was playing on the floor. I threw it, heard a little bonk and not a second later Thomas screamed. Sure, I knew where Thomas lay and made sure I threw it away from him. What I didn't take into consideration was ricochet. Yep, that little potato hit him square on the top of his head after bouncing off the entertainment center. After two minutes of crying, he happily played on the floor as if nothing happened. A few days ago, I needed to use the bathroom. I decided to place him in the middle of our bed. I didn't bother to surround him with pillows, because I figured in the time it took to do my business he wouldn't have enough time to roll off. Yeah. I have yet to learn what worked yesterday and the days before won't necessarily work today. Not thirty seconds after I entered the bathroom I heard an awful thump, a profound silence, then a scream. I ran out of the bathroom to find Thomas on the floor, face red, tears streaming and an expression like, "Why did you leave me alone, and how did I get here?" Sigh. I looked him over, and no bumps or bruises. He didn't even cry long as the fall only startled him. Whew! Yep, God made babies tough for negligent parents like me. |
| I talked to a friend of mine a few months ago, and she said, “I can’t see how anyone can have children and not believe in God.” I tend to agree. Every time I look at my son, I see God. I’m awed how 26 little microscopic chromosomes built this perfect little boy. How can such a small thing build something so complex? How does our DNA make certain something as simple as a kneecap ends up in the right place and function exactly as it should? How does it build an eyeball, one of the most complex structures we have, let alone make a brain to translate all the input properly? How can those chromosomes in each instance make a human entirely unique? Today is my last “Experiencing God” meeting. I won’t discuss the particulars, but to say I’m both glad and saddened it’s ending. It saddens me because I’m done as far as Bible study classes go. For one, it’s now time to apply all I’ve learned. Like I’ve said before, though I’m a lifetime student as far as learning more about God, I’m not meant to be a full-time student. Faith needs action as well as study. I can learn all I want, but if I don’t apply it to my life and effect those around me, then that knowledge is useless. I also need the extra time to finish my manuscripts. Even the ½ hour a day spent studying can translate to much by way of writing and editing. I’ve read how writing stories/novels/novellas that will never be published can help a writer improve the stories that are worth publishing. Though I intend to self-publish my novella, even if I didn’t it will improve my novel immensely. The novella takes place in the same universe as my novel, and is about two characters who make their appearance in the second book. Their relationship is so unique I wanted to expand on it. The end result is the novella. In editing it for the (I hope) last time, I decided to unleash my imagination. The result is a dialect I termed “Fringe.” It’s the language people on the fringe of society speak. I’ve made great use of a book entitled “The Synonym Finder” by J.I. Rodale. It’s basically a super-thesaurus, and it’s been fun trying to come up with unique terms and phrases but at the same time the reader will understand the speaker without needing to use the same book. I now have to incorporate the new slang terms into my novel. Hopefully I’ll finish the changes prior to the conference in February. Not having to study for Bible class will help. By the way, windac started a new blog!
============================================ Thanks to scarlett_o_h for sending me this badge: ![Merit Badge in Photography
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Sorry I missed your burpday but you deserve a badge for your wonderful photos.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Photography-2500.gif) . She has inspired me to continue to take pictures with my phone camera. These show off his new tooth quite well methinks.    I add this because it’s such a funny expression. Happy Sunday! |
| . . . what I got for my birthday, I'll tell you. Last week I had an opportunity to upgrade my phone, so I went ahead and purchased an LG eNV2. It's a regular phone that opens up like a laptop with a qwerty keypad. Tiny to be sure, but text messaging (since I do so much as it is [read sarcasm]) is much quicker and easier. What I like most is the internet capability, the MP3 player, and the 2 megapixel camera. I can even take 30 second videos. The videos aren't the highest quality, but it's been fun trying to capture Thomas doing silly things. The camera itself takes decent pictures:  Yep, he's eating solid foods now. You can't really tell from this shot, but his hands and face are covered in pureed peas. I bought a cookbook on how to make my own baby food, and it's surprisingly easy. I'm no purist, but I do enjoy knowing and controlling what goes into my baby's belly. So far he loves squash, zucchini, rice and oat cereal. Peas and sweet potatoes he's not too sure of yet. If I mix it in with cereal, he's amenable. I pureed pears a little bit ago, so come tomorrow we'll see how he likes it. He also popped his first tooth about three weeks ago now. Dang but he's growing fast. Oi, is he a drooling machine! I wonder if there's a market for baby drool, because I could make oodles off of what he produces in a single day. How he doesn't get dehydrated, I'll never know. So far teething not been too rough, but some days he gets super-fussy for an hour or two. Today Dave had to hold him most of the afternoon, because every time he set Thomas down he'd scream (Thomas, not Dave). He fussed more after I came home, but when I put him in the stroller and walked to the grocery store and back (about 1-1/2 miles total), he was a content little guy. I don't know if it's teething, or if he's merely bored and needs something else to look at other than what's in the house that he's seen and studied since the day he was born. Or both. Now for more phone camera shots:   He really enjoys being on his belly now, because he's figured out he can move around more. He's not crawling yet, but he can scoot, roll, and swivel pretty good. I definitely have to watch him if I put him on our bed. More than once he rolled and rolled and could have plunged off the edge if I hadn't caught him or placed a pillow or my legs in the way.  He's also a great kicker, as you can see from the blurred shot here. |
| Ever do something and realize too late you may not have made the right decision? That be me right now. One of the workshops at the writers conference is entitled "Thick-skinned Manuscript Clinic." Jerry Jenkins (co-author of the Left Behind series) and Andy Scheer (former editor for Moody magazine) will super-critique 12 (6 fiction and 6 nonfiction) 2-page samples submitted by attendees. I attended one of their classes the last time I went to the conference, and I learned a lot. Mostly I found people make the same mistakes time and again, myself included. On impulse I decided to submit my own sample for this year's conference. My fantasy was that they would have few suggestions and be so impressed with my writing and my story, they will recommend me to a publisher . . . Hey, like I said before, if you're going to dream, dream big. Not ten minutes ago I received an email from Andy Scheer, and I quoth: Dear Ms. Marquardt: Please plan to attend the Friday afternoon session of the Thick-skinned Manuscript Clinic, when the opening pages of your novel will be examined. Andy Scheer Managing Editor | Christian Writers Guild My first thought: "Oh [censored]! What the [censored] did I just get myself into?" Gulp. Luckily my name won't be included for all to glare at and remember-never-to-buy-a-book-written-by-her, but I'm sure everyone will know its mine by my beet-colored face and liquefied bones as I slink down the seat to the floor. I gots to remember my writing will only improve with their suggestions, and that's the main reason I sent my sample to them. Well, aside from showing off my brilliance. Ha! |
| *cough, cough* My it's dusty in here. Didn't the maid stop by to clean things? Dang that girl. Oh well, I guess you get what you pay for even with the hired help. When you offer nothing for a service, you should expect, well, nothing. Let's ignore for a moment I'm that girl. Remember last January I decided not to attend the annual Christian Writers Guild Writing for the Soul conference in 2008? Well, if not, here's your reminder. I couldn't go because Thomas was due two weeks prior to it. No way was I going to leave a newborn for four days. Plus I didn't know how I would feel, or even if I could afford it with all the doctor bills. I canceled and asked for my fee back, but they suggested I defer it to the next year. I figured why not. There was always a chance I could make it to the 2009 conference as long as it didn't fall on my son's birthday. Nothing's going to keep me from celebrating Thomas' first birthday! Well it doesn't. In fact it's over a month later. I still hesitated on deciding to go though. As the early bird deadline approached I leaned more and more with not going. I was still paying off doctor bills and credit cards, plus even 8-9 months out, plane tickets out of Bismarck skyrocketed to over $600. I checked a week ago, and they reached $752 for the cheapest ones. Insane doesn't begin to describe those prices. And that's for one person! Sorry, but when I add in the hotel stay, no way could I afford it. I mentioned before taking the "Experiencing God" Bible study. Last week the focus was on obeying God and how obedience can be costly to us and those around us. Frightening stuff when I thought about it. Not only do I not want to sacrifice anything in my life, but to make my family sacrifice, too? Yikes. But then it hit me. Sure, following God is a commitment that can cause hardship with me and those I love. At the same time, however, how can I expect my son to follow God if I don't? I'm his first teacher, and the best teaching I can give him is by example. Something else occurred to me. By doing God's will, he won't leave my family out to dry. He loves them far more than I ever will. I must be willing to acknowledge that God is in control and has my family's best interest as well as mine. I also remembered though I may have lost a few things by obeying God, in the end I didn't miss them. God's reward for following him exceeded anything I could have imagined. At the same time I kept receiving advertisements on the conference from multiple sources unrelated to each other. The subject of a few blogs I read had also concentrated on writing conferences. I then found plane tickets out of Dickinson - a town about 1-1/2 hours away - for almost half of what Bismarck charged. I then decided perhaps God was telling me I needed to go to the conference. For why I don't have a clue, or at least I'm not going to speculate. God loves surprises too much. I already know I will miss my son terribly, but I also know my husband will take good care of him. I have no need to worry about that. I just hope he doesn't miss me too much, or forget me while I'm gone. My focus now will be sifting through my articles to see if any will fit with the attending publications and polishing up once again my novel. In looking through the list of publishers so far slated to be at the conference, I found one that looks promising. I have much to do, and six months isn't that much time to complete it all. In the meantime, I still want to finish my novella for self-publication. If I'm around even less than I have been, don't be surprised. I do apologize for not visiting you, but I've accomplished much in my absence so far. You all take wonderful care of yourselves and each other, and I'll see you when I see you. Bu-bye! |
| The internet is bad in that it encourages some of the worst behavior of man - most of us can't or even want to understand why, they're so disgusting. To name a few, child pornography, standard pornography, gambling, and simply getting addicted to surfing to the point a person loses their job and their family. It encourages other addictions and fetishes as well. I, too, have fallen victim to the darker side of the internet. It feeds my own fetish. Websites abound of the one thing my fingers itch and my mouth waters over. Once I get a glimpse of these little gems, I simply must have them. Must, must, must, ain't nothing getting in my way. Instead of telling you what that is, I will show you. Be warned, the following pictures are rather risque. Be sure to hide away the children before you go any further. Oh, and before I go on, I hope your opinion of me isn't lessened any. I still think I'm a good person even with this -- flaw of mine. Ready? Here goes:  A Pentel Kerry, isn't she a sleek little beaut of a mechanical pencil? She's so balanced I can write with her for hours.  With my new pencil in hand and in use, I couldn't stop there. It needed a companion ballpoint (gel ink). This is a Conklin Mark Twain series. Another red one, because red is my favorite color. I went so far to buy red ink refills for it.  What pen is complete without a notebook to write in? This is a ruled Letts of London. I bought this in black. I've already filled up five pages of it -- with my new pen.  As you can see, I couldn't stop at a mere ballpoint. All dedicated writers must also have a fountain pen. This is another Conklin. I purchased the blue one. The first three I purchased at http://www.pencity.com and the fountain pen I bought at http://www.dalyspenshop.com . Terrible places those stores. Wasted hours there looking for the perfect item, hours better spent writing, eating, sleeping, working . . . I hesitate to ask you now, but I have to. Do you think less of me because I can't control my pen/pencil/paper fetish? Should I seek psychiatric help? |
Something strange happened the other day. We buy diapers and inside the box is a baby. That's kinda backward isn't it? Aren't you supposed to get a baby and then buy diapers? No matter. He's too cute to take back to the store for a refund. Thomas is six months old today! Why it seems like only yesterday . . . |
| Ever desire to drop all convention of conviviality, to care naught about what the damage will cause to those in your vicinity? That be me right now. I honestly don't know where all this anger and frustration is coming from - what it's origin is. All I know is it strains for relief. I hesitate anyway and for the oddest of reasons: I will bore you. One quality that makes readers return to a writer is the writer's ability to continually tittilate. That requires writing about an inexhaustible variety of subjects. I'm a one-subject wonder (though it's far from wonderful) of late. I need to vent about it, but I don't want to. It's like a boorish parent who talks about nothing but her "obviously genius" child who's not so genius. Soon people no longer listen and run far, far away when she comes near. They're tired of hearing the same stories over and over no matter how creatively retold. I know I'm being oversensitive, but knowing that doesn't negate my feelings. It only worsens my mood because I fail to convince myself of the truth. It's easier to roll around in the muck of self-pity. I want to explode in a tantrum and tear apart, burn and delete every word I've ever written. To move on to other, better things available in this world. To live a little instead of wishing I could through my words alone. I won't, though. Once it's gone I can't retrieve it. Collecting dust on my computer or on a shelf is a viable option, because nothing requires I have to ever look at it again. At the same time I leave the door open just in case this is a mere mood - fleeting. |
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