With the end in mind

For me, January 1 is usually a time to begin again. To remember what the big events were for the previous year. Figure out what I would have changed or done different. A time to re-prioritize. To set new goals. And to make excuses for goals I didn’t meet (I’m very good at this one!).

Other than getting laid off from my day-job, 2008 was relatively uneventful for me. Not that the idea that little happened was a bad thing. There were no major accidents or deaths. But then again, no births and no weddings, no promotions. No rejuvenation.

However, this year, I find that I’m a little worried about what the new year will bring.

After visiting with family over the holidays I realized just how many were getting on in age and how many were not necessarily doing so well in health. To be expected I suppose. But when you only see extended family once a year or so, it’s sometimes a bit of a shock (especially if your spouse isn’t keeping you informed of some of the family issues and events, but that is a whole other subject!). It made me wonder how many of the previous generation would be here for another Christmas.

Sad, but I know it’s just part of the “great circle of life.” And before long, I’ll be considered as part of the previous generation. Which is okay. But in the mean time I got some stuff I wanna do.

Years ago I made a list of things I wanted to do before I die. Seems like I was in college at the time. I came across that list again just a few years ago and was happy to be able to cross some things off of it. So, this year, I’ve decided that my goal will be to cross off one or two more things on that list and to put things in motion to be able to do some of the others.

For example. I want to go to Europe. I can’t tell you how much I want to see, to walk through and even to touch Stonehenge. I want to stand on a cliff and look down at the ocean and I want to walk through a field of heather in Scotland. There are dozens of ruins in Greece and Italy that I’d love to visit. I want to take a white-water rapids tour in the Grand Canyon. More recently, I’ve had an urge to ride in a Blackhawk helicopter. How cool would that be????! And, of course, I want to see my name under the title on the cover of my book.

I give up on setting little daily or weekly goals – I don’t meet them half the time and I just get frustrated. This year, I’m going to figure out what I need to do to make sure my big, lifetime goals get met. In the words of Stephen Covey, I’m gonna start with the end in mind. Where do I want to be and how do I want to get there.

Inquiring minds want to know… what’s still on your things-to-do-before-I-die list?

Goals and the New year

Hot topic isn’t it?

I know everyone seems to be thinking of their goals for the upcoming new year. Me included. I’ve landed way short of what I set out to accomplish this year. But I don’t think I’ll beat myself up over it. At least not this time.

I for one, am just glad this year is over. It was a year full of more downs than ups, and I want 2009 to be the opposite. I know life can be full of trials. And trials always make a person stronger. But this next year, I want it to be full of peace. LOL, I don’t think I want to grow stronger this next year. I just want to…be.  

Be happy in the place I’m at, and just smile as life goes on. Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mean lazy. No way! I just mean, content. At peace. Work when I need to work and rest when I need to rest.

So I’ve thought about my goals for the upcoming year and I think they are extremely doable. I’ll share them — 1- finish A PIRATE’S FATE  2- send it out to publishers and agents  3- work on a 3rd story, the 3rd in the FATE series  4- make healthier choices (I’ll steal this one from Susan & Meg)  5- get a part-time job   6- Just be.

#1 and 6 are probably my most important ones.

So here is to you and the New year. May you accomplish all you set out to do…and just BE.

Ashlynn Pearce

New Years on the Way

DH and I decided to go to Branson for New Years.

Stop laughing. I know I have a crip hip and can’t walk far. But I wanted to do something fun.

Trouble is, I have a short memory.

Several years ago for Christmas, I gave DH a trip to Eureka Springs for New Years. I got a suite in a haunted hotel, and paid for a great meal and party/dance thingy.

The truth is, DH likes alone-ness (just us) when he’s got time off. Oh, he wanted to go to Eureka and have the great meal. He just didn’t want to go to a party where a crowd of strangers would be getting drunk and stumbling/puking/ hitting/whatevering all around and/or over us.

So we dressed up pretty, went to the fabo dinner, then back to our suite, which, much to my chagrin, was just below the party. The music boomed until waaaay after midnight, so we turned the TV up really loud in retaliation.

It didn’t help.

New Years Day everything in town was closed. Museums, shops, even most of the restaurants.

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson. Right?

Snort.

Anyway, I wanted to go to Branson this year. I called the first place on my wanna stay list with a $$ amount I was willing to pay for our room. I talked to a snooty little operator who told me I could have the room I wanted, but only with double beds.

It’s been so long since DH and I’ve slept in a double bed, we’d probably beat each other up if we tried to stay in one.

The  snooty who-who told me for only $30 more a night, we could have the size bed we wanted on an upper floor.

I really didn’t like her attitude, and didn’t want to stay in a hotel that would hire her, so I explained my bum bum to her.

“We do have elevator service to all our floors,” she said as if I hadn’t learned about the new fangled device.

Maybe I should play a recording that says, “Please don’t talk down to the woman who’s calling. She’ll hurt you,” before I talk to these people. Unfortunately, this woman had no idea.

“I realize that, dear.”  I took a long breath so I could keep from reaching into the line and yanking her through it. “But I unless they work in case of fire, I’ll have to mark you off my list.

“Well. Do they?”

“Uh. No. Ma’am.”

Scratched off that hotel for this trip. Before I stay there, I’ll have to find out if the snotty you-know-what is still answering their phone.

Next I called three more hotels. One was closed for the season. The other two were closing New Years Day.

That’s when I realized how badly my hip was hurting from the weight of my lap top, and I decided I wanted to stay home and veg out for the holiday.

So we’re having an at-home vacation. No chores. No laundry. No phone calls if we don’t want to.

We’re going to celebrate big time, and not stir a step.

So what are your plans for the big night? Stay up and set your goals? Watch Tv? Having a party?

Tell me how you see in the new year.

Contest Winner

We tossed all our commenters’ names into the hopper and D’s super-duper kiddo chose our winner. Thanks to everyone who entered, and congratulations to #4! She’ll be receiving books from Jackie Kramer, Marilyn Pappano, Margaret E. Reid, and Susan Shay, beaded bookmarks from Deanna Ponder, and something sweet to enjoy while reading.

Keep coming back; next month’s contest will be announced soon.

Finding Out You’re Not The Only Strange One . . . Priceless

I bear a strong physical resemblance to my mom’s family, but we’re so different that, many times, I would have wondered whether I was adopted if not for that. For as long as I can remember, I never felt as if I totally belonged with the people with whom I was placed. My mother, my sisters, my aunts and uncles and cousins . . . we have a lot in common, but we also share a huge lot of differences. They’re very religious; my BF Dale tagged me perfectly when she said I’m spiritual, not religious. They’ve been content to stay rooted in the same area; since I was a kid, I dreamed about living elsewhere. They’re well-behaved, conservative and rarely question authority; my curiosity has gotten me in trouble more than once, I waffle between the far right and the far left with a few turns square in the middle, and I figure authority is there to be questioned.

When it comes to family, I’ve always been a little bit on the outside looking in. A lot of writers I’ve discussed this with feel the same with regard to their own families, which leads me to assume that this sort of distance is part of what makes me write when no one else in my family does. Writers are observers; we’re questioners; we’re experience seekers. And non-writers . . . well, aren’t, at least not in the same way.

My family think it’s cool that I write books (though most of them don’t read them – all that naughty sex), but it’s kind of a mysterious process to them. They don’t spend hours thinking “What if . . .?” They don’t have people in their heads demanding attention. They don’t understand the technical aspects of writing. (And, unlike most readers, they’re not interested in any of that. The best way to make one of my relatives’ eyes glaze over is to start talking business – my business. We talk about theirs often.)

Heck, I’ve been getting paid for this for more than twenty years, but most of the people in my life don’t even think of it as a real job. If I had a dime for every time someone’s asked me, “Are you still writing?” I could probably stop.

I’m different from my family. I knew that for years. But I thought I was pretty much a one-of-a-kind. The eccentric one. The weird one. Then, after selling my second book, something incredible happened: I met other writers. Other people who thought “what” and “if” were two of the most magical words in any language. People who not only heard voices in their heads but responded to them. People who understood instinctively who and what I was. It was so cool!

Don’t get me wrong – I love my family. I started to add “and my non-writing friends.” Truthfully, though, my best buds, my twisted sisters, are all authors. There’s just something about another writer – that immediate connection, that shared weirdness – that makes me feel like I belong. I’m not on the outside looking in any longer. I’m right smack in the middle of the best bunch of talented, eccentric, demented, daydreaming, living-in-another-world people around.

Which is exactly where I always wanted to be.

Dreaming Fiction

The night before last I  dreamed–or is it dreamt– that I had written the perfect novel. Actually, the dream was about the parts and the process of my novel coming together — the outline, the plot, characterization, the  dialog. And there was a good balance between showing and telling. Even the title was perfect. 

Though I was aware that I was dreaming, I was so excited that at last I was finally out of the rut I’d written myself into. I kept telling myself that I needed to remember all this so I could write it down when I woke up. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember any of the details except my heroine’s face.  But I  did remember the feeling of excitement that my novel had finally come together and the sense of accomplishment  that it was finally finished. 

 I started thinking about the role that dreams have played in my writing. There was a time in my life when I had strange dreams.  I tried to turn  several of these into short stories of the speculative fiction type. Note that I used the word “tried”.  My attempts to do this were not successful. The dreams were much more interesting–to me–than the short stories. 

Has  anyone been able to dream fiction successfully?

Claude Mary

Contests, Deadlines, Goals and Holidays

The day after Christmas is traditionally a day to return unwanted gifts, admire all kinds of merchandise on sale, and buy all the stuff you wanted for Christmas but did not receive. That is, if you like to shop–which I don’t. Instead, I generally spend the time between Christmas and New Years visiting with family and friends and reviewing my goals.

I admit it. I’m a goal setter. I’m one of those folks who do better under deadline pressure. Each year, I make a list of goals and try my darnedest to attain them. Some years are better than others.

This year, one of my goals was to enter National Novel Writers Month (NaNoWriMo) again (http://www.nanowrimo.org). Their annual challenge is to write 50,000 words in the month of November. I’ve done this two years in a row and it’s teaching me something about my process. I’m equally a writer AND an editor. When required to just write and not edit, I can slam out the words but I’m not as happy with my work.

Sometimes writers enter contests to get feedback on their work in progress. The critique can be defeating or encouraging. My experience in contests has been very negative. I no longer even enter them. Paying to be abused seems to be self defeating. (There has got to be nicer ways to say, “I don’t like this entry.”) NaNoWriMo offers me a contest deadline and a contest feeling without the pesky judging. It’s just word count. It doesn’t have to be good; it doesn’t have to be edited. Just logged. I’m a winner. I can wear the t-shirt proudly.

It dawned on me the other day that since I completed my word count for that contest, I haven’t once opened that work in progress… I have to admit, it’s only about one third of the way written. I really need to open up that book and continue slogging toward the end of the book (which is fully plotted out). But first, I think I’m going to have to edit what I’ve written.

My general pattern of writing is to begin by reading from the point I started writing the previous day, I edit as I go and when I get to the end of the passage, I am ‘back in’ the story and can start writing for the day. NaNoWriMo disrupts this safe pattern. The deadline hanging over my head (and all the encouraging emails they send out) warns me to write, write, WRITE, don’t stop and edit. Since my editor is part of my process, it’s hard for me. It’s outside my comfort envelope. I expand my horizons by doing this.

As we approach New Years, I pull down my sheet of paper with last year’s goals on them and look them over. How did I do? About one third accomplished. 30%. Not great. But not bad. On this year’s list of goals will be to finish that work in progress. Write the damn book. Then I have to make myself submit it to someone to read. I’m a good writer, I’m a lousy submitter. It will go on the list as something to complete and send out. So, I’m in the game. I’m trying.

While others are out buying Christmas décor on half price, I’ll be home reading what I wrote, wondering what I was thinking when I wrote that scene. I won’t think about the shiny gold Christmas tree at Target that would look great in my bedroom next year. Nope, nothing shiny will distract me from my goals. spw

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanzaa . . . whatever you celebrate, even if it’s just Thursday, the Writing Sluts hope it’s a wonderful one.

We’re going to share some of our favorite holiday stories with you, and would like to read some of yours. Best gift ? Worst? Ever have a cooking or decorating disaster? A memory that brings a tear to your eye? What do you like best about the season? Do you have a black belt in shopping? Are there books or movies you watch every holiday?

We’d like to hear it all, no holds barred.

Romance and Senior Discounts

I recently noticed on a fast food receipt that I was given the senior discount. Once upon a time, that would have tickled me since I’ve never been rabid about age. Lately, the counter people have been asking me if I wanted the discount (which I always do), but this time, the girl just gave it to me. For some reason, this bothered me and it took me awhile to figure out why.

Before, it was like a game. I knew I was only 30 or so in a 60-year old body, so getting the senior discount was like a game. You know, fooling the powers that be. But this unasked for discount confirmed that I’m getting on in years. How does this relate to romance, you ask?

In high school, I was a big fan of romance, mostly of the “my prince will come” variety. As a young woman, I was more into science fiction where my “prince”, so to speak, were Vulcans, elves, alien princes, etc. When I got married. I put aside romance because I’d gotten my own hero and, to be honest, as a wife and mother, I didn’t have a lot of reading time. But once I was divorced, romance books came back into my life because I was once again looking for the Happily Ever After.

Pretty soon, not only was I reading romance, but I was writing it. It turned out to be the only sex I got! No matter, how old I became, my heart and mind stayed young and I believed that I would get another chance at my own HEA. By accepting that I’m now old enough to get senior discounts, does that mean I have to give up my dream of finding a hero of my own? Absolutely not! But I’m going to take a senior discount on him. He may not be the strong, young, handsome prince of my early dreams. Now I’ll be hoping for someone to share my golden years…someone who can make me laugh. Someone who thinks using a remote control is all the exercise needed. And someone who knows that for a woman, chocolate is a food group. Romance as a senior? Bring it on!

The Tao of Writing

I believe we, as witers, can learn much from the ancient spiritualism of the Tao Te Ching—in particular, its simple philosophy of doing not-doing. In other words: Go with the flow. Those who don’t understand the concept view it as passivity, but nothing could be further from the truth. When talent meets wisdom, when skill meets experience, we find a place where we act and create effortlessly, without any interference of the conscious will. The dancer becomes the dance.

In more concrete terms, imagine a river, unchanging and unending. We all get to choose how we will interact with that river. Some stand on its banks and watch it flow past. Some step into the shallows and let the water rush around their ankles. Some jump directly into the fast-flowing center and let the river carry them where it will. The Tao expresses the latter.

Writing can be that river, too. The Tao tells us to let our writing go where it will, without interference, without direction. I hear you pantsers out there cheering. But even the most anal plotter and planner can embrace this concept. When you recognize that first spark of a storyline or that initial stirring of a new character, throw that story and character into the river, then jump in after them. The idea is to be open to creativity, to let it come to you, not to go looking for it.

One tenet of the Tao is to do nothing to impede the flow of this creativity. Picture yourself standing in the river, holding up a piece of plywood to direct the water where you wish it to go. The river flows around it and you with little effort, while you work hard to keep the barrier steady. Eventually you tire and give up, and the river returns to its original path. It’s at peace, while you are tired and frustrated.

In our writing, if we relax and let the river take us on the journey of our book, how much easier would that be than trying to direct the flow of thought? From the moment of conception of your plot or story, try doing not-doing and simply let your mind accept ideas, instead of working to think them up. According to the Tao, if a task—in this case, writing—is work, we’re not doing it right.

Let your story create itself, while you take dictation. Then, relax and follow the flow of the plot and character development. When you feel your writing become work, stop and look at where you are in the river. Did you stand up? Are you on the banks? Are you swimming upstream? Are you working to direct the flow? Clear your thoughts, lay back in the water and let it carry you away again. Only when our minds are freed from the drudgery and toil of forming and directing ideas can true creativity begin.

From Chapter 48 of Tao Te Ching: Less and less do you need to force things, until finally you arrive at non-action. When nothing is done, nothing is left undone. True mastery is letting things take their course.

Writing, like life, is a river. Go float!