Found out another grade. I got an A in my upper-division English linguistics class. Still waiting on the other 2 parts of the qualifying exam, but I have to go into town tomorrow to pick up a library book, so I'll look again.

I spent part of the morning doing errands and research for my paper on Underworld and paranoia in postmodern literature. I'm worried that I may have bitten off more than I can cram into 20 pages, because my professor asked me if I wouldn't like to do it as a Master's thesis. As if! I'm not even studying literature this time around. Sheesh!

When I got home I took the most-important first step in writing: organizing. I dug out all the pieces of paper and notebooks and notecards and post-its and sorted them. So now I have a stack of 8-by-11 envelopes and folders and notebooks, each containing one and only one story. There is a surprisingly big stack, so I guess I have been kicking around more stories than I remembered. Oh my. But I fully intend to finish 2 of them, and to tweak on my project-story, over the summer vacation. The others will still be in the compost pile when I feel like getting around to them. Or glancing at them today will force them to start bubbling in my subconscious, and they will start jumping out at me when I am doing mindless things like washing the dishes and showering. Which is par for the course.

I guess I have been tweaking "Late Night Radio" more than I had realized, because I had several printed drafts sitting in the pile. So I stapled them together and crammed them in an envelope. I am not a nostalgic person and will probably shred the whole thing when I am done. There is something so wonderfully final about shredding. Except Hannah broke the shredder. But I will score a new one soon enough.

Once everything was sorted to my satisfaction, I found myself unwilling to sit down and work. I guess I know in a kind of academic way what I would like to do with "LNR" next, but actually doing it takes a level of bravery that I don't seem to have today. I haven't quite managed to put into words why, but maybe writing about it here today, even in abbreviated form, will help me open up and write on "LNR" tomorrow. At least I hope so.

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating."
--Pearl S. Buck, novelist, Nobel laureate (1892-1973)

WesTexGirl commented:
"I swear this blog inspires me to write. I remember the poetry class where it first became apparent to me that maybe I could write at least as well as those english majors, and then I think... only memoires, or fiction based loosely on reality. I can tell stories, but not make them up. "

Since her comment set off a whole deluge of writing-related navel-gazing, I thought I would work it into an actual post. So thanks for the spark!

That's how I felt in the first stage of wanting to write. I tried working on something when we were in Sweden, and John liked the writing, but the story was pretty cliched. When we got back to the States, I started lurking on an unofficial email list that accompanies an online writing critique circle. That group has a monthly writing challenge, where someone suggests a topic, so one month I gave it a go. That was the birth of my Godred story, which may not ever make it to published-story status, but that has been a good experience for me none-the-less. I think the pressure was off to [yadda yadda yadda Kilroy was here]<---(had to get up to go to the bathroom and John paid my open window a visit *g*) come up with something "original", so I was finally able to start teasing out some of my own creativity.

The writing list has been discussing recently whether one can be taught creativity. This came up in the context of university writing programs. It has been an interesting discussion. Pretty much everyone agrees that mechanics can be taught, but then there is a split over whether creativity is an inherent talent or a teachable skill. Someone brought up an interesting point, that creativity is basically a different way of looking at the world. I think I would agree with that, and that your way of looking at the world can change depending on your experiences. I don’t really like the phrase “expanding your horizons”, but that is exactly what teachers can help students do, especially if they didn’t actually notice or care that their horizons were narrow to start with.

You would be surprised at the things that pop into my head as fodder for stories. For instance, the idea behind the children’s book I mentioned was Hannah crawling into bed with us one night. Something that simple, and a whole story came out of it. Whether it is an *interesting* story or not...

But in the end, if you can’t sit down and put in the effort, it doesn’t really matter how creative you are, because you will not end up with a finished work. This is the part I am having the most difficulty with currently. Kee has the drive to put butt to chair and fingers to keys, and I am hoping to get a little of that in during the summer break (or pen to paper, in my case). I don't delude myself that I will make a living from writing, but I am itching to see my name in print (and not just something I printed out, ha ha), so maybe that will give me the impetus to put in the work necessary to get there.

Right in the middle of studying for my last 2 exams, an idea for a children's book popped into my head. So I have 2 note cards (my preference for middle-of-the-night jotting) and a line or two in my school notebook with notes/text. I told John about it, and he says it sounds didactic, but 1. he can bite me, and 2. children's books often are.

I got a B+ on my oral exam (in German, on linguistics). Yay me!

There was a lot of straightening up today and no writing, but I feel very satisfied anyway. This weekend I must tackle Hannah's bedroom, or it may devour the rest of our house, but on Monday I hope to work in the library for a bit on school stuff and writing stuff.

"A word is not the same with one writer as with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket."
--Charles Peguy, poet and essayist (1873-1914)

Still waiting on rejection. One week and one day left.

At least I'm not studying for a test. *cringe*

A word is not a crystal, transparent and unchanged, it is the skin of a living thought and may vary greatly in color and content according to the circumstances and the time in which it is used.

-Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., jurist (1841-1935)

"A man who uses a great many words to express his meaning is like a bad marksman who, instead of aiming a single stone at an object, takes up a handful and throws at it in hopes he may hit."

-Samuel Johnson,lexicographer (1709-1784)

"Write with nouns and verbs, not with adjectives and adverbs. The adjective hasn't been built that can pull a weak or inaccurate noun out of a tight place. "

-William Strunk and E.B. White, authors of The Elements of Style

and a rebuttal from Geoff Pullum, a linguist at the University of California, Santa Cruz:

"Look, you don't get good at writing by deleting adjectives. Writing is difficult and demanding; you can learn to get moderately good at it through decades of practice writing millions of words and critiquing what you've written or having others critique it. About 6 percent of those words will be adjectives, whether you write novels or news stories."

I sent off another query-not to the one who I needed the paper for. This one took email submissions. He gave a two-week deadline. If I don't hear back, he's not interested. Kinda crappy, but I already have two more lined up and ready to go behind him.

No kidding. All I have to do is change the dates.

So I have got two weeks to work on new writing. I can't wait. My fingers are itching to get back to the creative part.

Keep studying. I'd much rather face the trials of the agent/author world than be studying for a test. Eeewwww. That gave me chills just thinking about it.

Can't write now. Studying.

"Good prose is like a windowpane. "
-George Orwell, writer (1903-1950)

I have to go to the store and buy more paper because I already have another one lined up. Actually, I hadn't looked at this one before, but it was on the opposite page in the Writer's Market of one I had marked but decided against sending to. When I looked it up on the web, it's very 'unknown writer' friendly.

But it wants all snail mail submissions. Hence the need for more paper. I've altered the synopsis a bit, printed out the first chapter, and only need a stroke of genius to finish off the letter itself before I can print it and send it on its way.

For a three week wait.

FYI:

It only takes 24 hours and 32 minutes to get a rejection.

I submitted an email query to an agent for RANSOM this afternoon. The only contact information she wanted was my email address, which after hitting the submit button I immediately freaked out thinking I might have mistyped it. Since the website didn't list a response time for email submissions, and since I have the insane fear about the mistyping, I'll probably be glad whenever I receive the rejection notice because at least then I'll know they got it.

I'll keep you posted.

I AM DONE

Smell my stinky feet!

RANSOM is done, all 64, 219 words. Now I have to condense it into a 250 word synopsis to see if an agent wants to pick it up.

It'll probably take me as long to do 250 as it did the whole thing. Yikes.

But on I go.

Here's two of the three I sent in.

Suzanne groaned as Julio pressed her against the wall, intimately gyrating in expectation, realizing too late into her foray of the wild world of janitor dalliance that it was not a notable Latin endowment that was pleasuring her but his sizeable collection of janitor’s keys stuffed into his pant pocket.

Maybelle gasped, like the deep gasp that involuntarily escapes after sitting on a leather car seat that has baked in the Texas heat on a long July afternoon, at the unexpected surprise at seeing her lover in her husband’s arms, her surprise a lot like the pleasure/pain of remaining seated once the outer layer of skin has been seared.

The last one is still on the fried laptop. Maybe I can retrieve it later.

I've got hubby reading the *final* version of RANSOM.

Since I stayed home sick today (glad to have a toilet nearby), I might be able to send you something soon.

That's only if I can keep my dry toast and flat 7-UP down.

Well, the Bulwer-Lytton results are in, and neither Kee nor I placed. *sob*

So I'm going to post my entries here for your enjoyment and horrification.

Drachensson grew up listening to his grandfather’s stories about the good old days, when princes were chivalrous and brave, treasure flowed, and princesses practically grew on trees, but as he got older, he was disappointed to find that as often as not, a prince’s life ambition was to be a tampon, the DOW was taking a beating, and a princess turned out to be no more than a spoiled rich girl with a poodle in her purse and a sex video on the Internet.

Sir William viewed the wasteland before him, the barren expanse, the charred landscape, the blighted countryside, the desolation, the sea of ash—well, you get the drift—and knew he had found the dragon’s cave, but as he prepared to enter its den, he realized he had left his housewarming present back at the castle.

I wanted to be done by now, but at least I'm still highly motivated. I've hit a snag in the next couple of chapters (That's why I can't put Ch x,y,z and done next to them) since I posted last. My scenes and chapter breaks aren't grouped right. Technically, I am at 9 3/4. But I need to go a bit further before I backtrack and break it up right.

But I'm proud to say that the plot twists I've come up with seem to flow much better than what I had before. It's such a big change, though, that I'm having to go real slow to make sure I carry it through correctly.

So on I go. So glad that I don't have a term paper to write. Hee Hee Nee!

Sorry to say, Kee has left me in the dust. I still only have about 2 pages of actual text on my Term Paper, but my professor has not complained; as a matter of fact, he praised my improvements and basically told me to carry on, so that was a load off my shoulders. I actually have pages and pages of notes as I sort out what will go where (my bibliography has about 20 items, so it takes a little effort to find something I remember reading previously), but I should be able to translate all those notes into text pretty soon. At least I hope so.