Self-shaming Novel Update

“Panicky despair is an underrated element of writing.”

– Dave Barry

This time last week, I was elbow deep in introduction scenes for both Anna and her brother, Aaron, and my goal was to have two completed scenes by week’s end.

Well, I accomplished half of my goal.

(golf claps all around)

Anna’s scene is rough, and bare bones, but it’s out of my head and down on paper.  Most of it works, some of it needs improvement, but that can come later.

That brings me to Aaron.

<sigh>

How do you solve a problem like Aaron?

(Yes, it’s alright to sing that the way the nuns at Nonnberg Abbey did in The Sound of Music.  I won’t tell.)

I’ve said it so many times – Aaron is a pain in my ass.  However, I think he and I have come to a degree of understanding.  He will play a less significant back up role in this story.  His only real involvement – to briefly aid Anna’s quest by using his unique skill set.  In doing so, I promised not to kill him off before the mid-point.   I thought that was an excellent compromise.

Oh, and I’ve also changed his name.  Aaron and Anna.  Oy.  What was I thinking?  He will now be known as Lenk Schuyler.  Don’t judge.  This new name fits his role and serves a purpose.

In addition to the above scenes, I also worked on reconstructing my outline.  For those of you keeping count, this is version #5.  I’ve made a lot of progress with that.  Most of it is handwritten and as I type up my chicken scratch, I have expanded upon scenes and themes, and will continue to do so.

So what’s the low down skinny?

Last week’s goal:  Two workable scenes

Actual accomplishment:  One workable scene, a character redesignation, and a partial outline.

Word count:  1688

Next week’s goal:  Continue with the outline – map through to the rising action, at least.  Write Leo Baxter’s inciting incident scene. 

Until next time.

Things I learned this week

“What fun is it being cool if you can’t wear a sombrero.”

– Bill Watterson

Indeed.

I learned this week:

…that it is possible to earn an A in Geology.

Who knew? Not me.

Let’s see if I can do it again next semester.  I am feeling so froggy about it that I have registered for Historical Geology.

Take that scary science.

…that having a home office does not guarantee peace and quiet.  The night before my two most challenging finals, I retreated to my new sanctuary for a little study time.  I’m not sure when it happened or even how it happened, but an hour in I looked up at the sound of an awful ruckus and realized my space had been invaded by two cats, a dog, and a kid.  Really?  I had more solitude in the living room.

…that dropping my dog off at the groomers (until two months ago, I’d only owned cats) was a little like leaving a toddler at daycare for the first time.  There was lots of whining and crying and forlorn looks that said:  “Why, mommy-lady?  Why are you so cruel?  I’m really sorry I ate your slipper.  Really.  I am.  Don’t. Leave. Me.” Of course, as soon as I left the building, Kevin the groomer dude became Rocco’s new best friend and I was completely forgotten.

…that I still don’t get the allure of twitter.  I used to have an account a couple years ago – for about a week.  I didn’t understand the point, so I deleted it.  This week I am trying my hand at it again.  All of my writer friends are doing it.  I feel left out.

29 tweets and 23 followers later.

Um…yeah.   Still don’t get it.

I think it’s just beyond my capability.  All those cryptic codes and hash tags.  It makes no sense.  Plus, it seems like an awful lot of work to maintain.  I can’t even get myself together enough to blog regularly let alone come up with something witty and interesting to tweet several times a day – in less than 140 characters.

…that I am too old and snarky to spend 11 hours riding on a bus to and from Houston with a bunch of sugared-up middle schoolers without the benefit of coffee…or booze.

…that just when I thought human depravity had reached its peak, I am yet again proved wrong.  I cannot begin to fathom the level of grief felt by the families of those killed in the Sandy Hook shooting.  My heart aches for everyone involved.

I usually don’t like to delve too deep into political (or religious) ideologies on this blog.  I find that in this digital age where every Tom, Dick, and Harry has an opinion, a keyboard, and the luxury of anonymity such discussions deteriorate into hate filled tirades not intended to find resolution, but rather to shock and offend.

Having said that, I would like to have my say:

I believe in the Constitution. I believe in the Supreme Court’s authority to interpret the intended spirit of the Second Amendment.  I believe in an individual’s right to protect his/her person and property.  I do not, however, believe civilians have a need for military grade assault weapons or magazines that hold dozens of rounds.  I do not believe a ban on such weaponry would seriously impinge upon a citizen’s constitutional rights, and I think it’s passed time for rational dialogue on how we prevent the recurrence of such senselessness.  Of course, then there is the issue of the perpetrators themselves – the ones who yielded these weapons.  I do not have hard statistics, but I think a blind man could see that a good number of these shooters are plagued by some form of mental illness.  This is a problem.

How do we fix this?  I honestly do not have the answer to that question.  What I do know is this:  This will happen again unless we can set aside our egos and self-promoting ideologies and move toward a real solution through meaningful conversation and compromise.

…that I don’t have an awww moment of the week, so I will leave you with a photograph I took recently of the Day of the Dead bride and groom figurines I brought back from my last trip to Mexico.  I bought them to commemorate the 15 years my husband and I had been married (at the time).  We are now two weeks shy of our 17th anniversary.  I just love these little guys.  They make me smile.

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