The Big Idea

I got it.


Finally.

Yo Elana Johnson!

Because I'm too lazy to scroll through the comments section of your contest bloggy thing...I'm giving you your own thread--yeah baby.

I think the prizes for the contests should be gift certificates to Taco Bell! Or Energy saving light bulbs...


What?
Those things are kinda cool looking.

I wonder if they come in purple.

Japanese Story

So, I went on ahead and signed up for NetFlix, which is just all kinds of awesome might I add.

Anyhow, I've been wanting to see this movie for ages--literally. And the first movie I want sent is Japanese Story with Toni Colette and Gotero Lastnameican'tspell and I loved it. I cried...oh my goodness I cried. Eric is like, "You're weird' and I'm like "You have no soul!"

I was just marveling over the simplicity of the story--and how it was so moving at the same time. It took an absolutely ordinary situation--and made it extraordinary. Huge and epic plots are all good and well sometimes--but sometimes you just want a story. Sometimes you don't want the gimmick or the hype. Another perfect example is a book I mentioned before by Anita Shreve 'The Last Time They Met'. It's so detailed and not a whole lot of dialogue, but when it is, it's so human and real and seemingly not contrived that you are pulled into the story--even if books like that aren't your thing. It's like overhearing a conversation that wasn't meant for you, but you listen anyway.

I don't know, I just--I love that. I love reading about human emotion--and watching movies about it too.

Especially in a world where it seems like nothing is authentic anymore. Everything is computerized and 'There's an App for That!'

Strangely enough, I didn't dig The Notebook too much. It was...obvious and...I dunno--Hollywood? I don't know how to describe it. For Hollywood, it was deep--but then again, I'm biased. I'm more drawn to films like, The Hours or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (which is weird, but the basis of it is really simple).


I am writing...I don't know what...but I am. It's just more of the act of putting something on paper--I'm not really worried about anything coming from it. I think what started to kill the passion for what I do was the fact that I was trying to write to make an agent happy, instead of myself. I have gained so much confidence, that worrying about being published doesn't phase me anymore. It'll happen if it's supposed to, you know?

Writing makes me happy. It's my happy place. And at the end of the day, that's all that matters. If I write a story worth sharing with the world--great. If not...that's fine.

As long as I do what I'm put here to do...

So...I've ranted long enough. Happy Valentine's Day.

Blood, Guts and Words

Since I haven't been able to blog, and my urge to write has only come in sporadic, ephemeral spurts, I've been reading, trying to find inspiration. Okay, I wasn't exactly looking for it, but I found it. Manuscripts are still waiting for me even now, but it's not right yet. For one thing, it feels odd writing or rather typing a book on a computer when I'm used to writing on paper. I have like, a thousand notebooks. Secondly, I'm waiting to get to that point where I need to write so badly that it's going to burst out of me if I don't. And trust me folks, we don't want that to happen. Bloody guts and bloody words.

So, like I was saying--I've been reading right? I have all these books in my tiny apartment, many of which I hadn't read. I was tired of reading the same stuff so I picked up a book I had by Anita Shreve called The Last Time They Met. It was amazing and totally unexpected. The other book I found was called Smoke Jumper by Nicholas Evans. Reading both of those books made me feel like I stumbled across something great.

I don't have an elaborate description about the books. I'm not a book reviewer. But I will say that they made me feel good, and sad and worried. Desolate, hopeful...just from reading some words on paper.

And I like that.
It made me want to write again.
So I will.

She's baa-aack

Well, she being me.
I'm back on a much more permanent basis. I got a nifty little lap for a really good deal. It was kind of hard and frusterating to blog randomly. It seemed to defeat the purpose. Liffe has been throwing me for and through some loops. But I'm still standing--a little wobbly, but I'm here.


Also, I get to internets when I'm doing number two.
No she didn't!

Oh yes I did honey chile!

Terrible Two's

...I mean, she's actually been a terror before this...but tomorrow, she's officially two years old. Tomorrow won't be too much fanfare because I have to get the apartment in order for her birthday party on Friday. A house full of toddlers doesn't sound all that appealing, but on the upside, she'll be so tired out by the time that it's over that it'll have all seemed worth it.

I'm going to celebrate with a glass of wine tomorrow night when she's sleep with the knowledge that I kept her alive for a whole two years! Here's to many MANY more.

Be Bold

I had the most amazing conversation with my best friend last night on the phone. We were discussing my recent break-up with Eric. I won't get into all of that right now because it's not important--and I won't give him the satisfaction of having his name fall off my lips.

But I was telling her that for the first time in a long time I felt free and happy. No limitations, no restrictions...I can just be myself. And so she asked me what I was going to do now and I said, 'Be Bold'.

Next summer I'm going to be thirty years old. I've spent too much of my life hiding who I am so it wouldn't offend people. I even stopped writing a few months back because he said fiction was 'stupid amd for people with their heads in the clouds' or some nonsense. And while I never believed that, I did believe that maybe I was too old to be chasing dreams I've had since I was a girl.

It seems silly in retrospect, to let someone have that much control over you, but I did. It was an abusive relationship that I allowed to go on way too long and effect my writing.

Next to my daughter, writing has to be one of the most important things in my life. It's never been a hobby for me. Sometimes I wish it was. Obsessions are tedious, time consuming things.

But I don't know what else to call it and I don't know how to feel any less intensely about it and I don't think I really want to.


I spend more time with my notebook and pen then I do networking. It distracts me. It really does. But I love this place. I love talking to new people and keeping up with what's going on in the writer's market. It keeps me grounded--but it's the sort of thing I have to take in doses. Too much information and I'll forget my purpose.

When I finish this book...I don't want it to be just 'good'. I want to blow people out of the water. I want to inspire and challenge and give hope...and...all of those things. I want to write something that you can't put down, and even when you do...it stays with you. You ever read a book SO good that you dream about the characters?

I want to be unforgettable. And it's a lofty aspiration for someone just starting out--but I hope for no less. And until I get there...I'm not going to stop.

So that's all...no more excuses.

and National Novel Writing Month is upon us...finally. So...I decided to just do the damned thing.