Notes, notes, notes,…sheesh!

Last night, in preparation for Camp NaNoWriMo, I’ve finally typed up all my notes on my WIP. I’ve got notes that go back to May of last year! (I date them as I go.) Oh how my story ideas have morphed over time.

I’m the kind of person who likes to write my notes and ideas by hand; usually on random pieces of paper, hence the need to get them all together and type them up. I like the tactile feel of writing by hand and I write only in pen. This makes is so that I don’t self-edit or erase.

I guess this comes from the good ol’ school days when computers were a luxury (the floppy discs were actually “floppy”) and you hand wrote your essays in pencil and then turned in a nice handwritten final copy in pen. Later on, when school computers were more accessible, you typed up, “single spaced please,” your final draft essays. So now I always have the frame of mind that when I type it gets edited on the go and it needs to be perfect and professional. My family and I have always been behind on technology; having a single mom and not being able to afford the latest and greatest, and “all that jazz”. An at home computer wasn’t available until later on and only for school essay and Mom’s college work.

In high school, I discovered free writing. An English teacher had ten minute free writing sessions at the beginning of every class. You had to write in pen continuously for ten minutes. No erasing, no crossing out, no editing. Just write, write, write… If you ran out of ideas you could write the last word you wrote over and over again until something else came to mind. Nothing makes your brain change subject like having to rewrite a word a few times. “The picnic in the park had been lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely… Until the car crashed into a tree nearby.”

Sometimes when I free write, I’m the only one who can read my own handwriting. That’s ok because I really the only one that matters. Not that I have bad handwriting, but when I write in an inspired frenzy, all the “rules” go out the window. Everything “proper” and “correct” waves bye-bye! It’s so much more organic; unlocks my creative mind. Eventually, I’ll learn to overcome typing perfectionism. Until then, bring on the hand cramps!

So I’ve typed up ALL my notes. Now what? I read over everything I have and……… write more notes (in the margins). Type notes, write notes, type notes…. (I even edit this way.)  Organize these random brainstorming-liness goodies into a structural outline that will, hopefully, get me from start to finish with my story.

I’m amazed that my total amount of notes has already reached around 8,000 words. Too bad they don’t even count (sad face.) And of course the late nights have already begun; it’s not even April 1st yet, but I’m on a deadline people!

Four days to Camp NaNoWriMo!

Which do you prefer, typing or writing by hand? Or are you a “best of both worlds” kind or person?

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Biting the Bullet

          So I’m gonna do it! I’ve decided enough of this BS procrastination. I’m giving myself a hard and fast deadline. It may be last notice and I’m probably going to regret the massive headache trying to prep in the next six days, but I’m gonna join Camp NaNoWriMo April 2014. There’s been a story brewing in my head for the past few months and I haven’t done as much as I’ve wanted to do with it. It’s always something with me. There are so many ideas floating around in my head and I get new ones all the time for shiny new stories. I need to commit to one. I do, however, “jot down” those bits of inspiration to save for a later date. They’re just too much fin to let go! Any who, wish me luck! I might post updates on my progress and how I’m feeling about the whole process, but we’ll see. I only hope that I can get my butt in gear in the next six days and finally get my outline complete. I’m ready! Bring it on!

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Frustration and Procrastination

Because almost all of my traditional artsy diversions are still packed up due to a recent move, I have taken to my most “low tech” diversion of creative writing. I have yet again run into a road block with my story. It basically boils down to indecisiveness. I know where my main character will end up and who she will meet. However, I can’t decide the circumstances that got her to that point. There are too many possibilities! I know her personality and her quirks. I know how she reacts to the character she meets. But what is her job? Is the character she is protecting her sister or a stranger that reminds her of her sister? Does she have a troubled childhood or are her “ghosts” more recent? I guess I might be too afraid to commit, or that it might be too stupid or not good enough. The story has already evolved from the original concept. What if I commit to one line of thought and then find later on that it was the wrong one? And so in my frustration over my indecision I am writing this to hang out in my frequent state of procrastination. Too much what if, not enough this is what it is. Sigh.

The Originals S01xE09 “Reigning Pain in New Orleans” Episode Rundown

So i’ve decided to write my first episode rundown. Maybe I’ll make a full on review next time. I thought it would be fun and a way to get me into the swing of my writing again. Conclusion: It was fun, and I realize that this rundown is just another one of my procrastinations. Shame on me!

Enjoy!

The Originals S01xE09 “Reigning Pain in New Orleans” Episode Rundown

Episode Rundown:

Klaus is reveling in his victory from last week’s episode, and trying to solidify his place during this transition of power. (I love his cat-that-ate-the-bird moods.) Elijah and Rebekah are still in the dog house, and Rebekah learns why she shouldn’t have trusted Marcel. Hayley is now, more than ever, Klaus’ prisoner and her newly discovered family connections are in danger. Elijah of course comes to the rescue with help from Little Sis. Marcel makes the best of a bad situation. Davina learns some hard truths. Cami continues to show her strength and wit in breaking Klaus’ mind control. Still no Sophie Deveraux, and the human faction learn there is a new sheriff in town and he’s not to be trifled with. We also find out about a new clan of werewolves in the bayou with a possible connection to Klaus.

WARNING! SPOILER-YNESS TO FOLLOW:

 

Favorite Scene:

So hard to just pick one, but pick one I shall!

Klaus goes to Cami to compel her to leave New Orleans for her own good. She confronts him about not letting anyone get close enough to see who he really is. He tells her that she couldn’t handle who he really is. She challenges him to show her. She pushes him further and he does show her out of anger thinking she will be horrified and disgusted at the “monster” he is. You can tell in his face that he doesn’t really want her to recoil in horror. Wouldn’t you know it, she actually is sad for him. “Oh my God! No one should have to experience things like that.” (Cami) His face is sad and priceless! You think wow, this is the start of a something good for him, but he does his Klaus-y thing and compels her to leave. Noooo!

Favorite Quote:

Elijah: “You don’t make it easy to love you, brother.”

Klaus: “And yet you’re obstinate in your desire to do so.”

 

Favorite Character in the Episode:

Cami (You go girl!). I love her strong will and her sympathy for Klaus before he compelled her to leave was just amazing!

What I look forward:

It looks like Davina is making her escape with some revenge sprinkled in there. Can’t wait to see how all that turns out! I want to know what secret Rebekah is threatening Marcel with.

It was overall, an enjoyable episode. What great way to leave you wanting more during the break. Let the agonizing anticipation begin!

CATS!! Honestly!

     I wrote this in 2008 on MySpace (I know ancient! Plus, I mention a clunky, big computer monitor, not flat screen. Wow! Behind the times!), and I thought it would be nice to have it all in one place. So without further ado, here is my ’08 musings on cats.

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     Cats those creatures that you can’t live with and can’t live without. Those intelligent little fur balls that like to play dumb just to be lazy. They wiggle and paw their way into your heart with their cute little meows and faces that say, “I love you,” “You can trust me,” “I’m your friend.” Then, just to finish you off, they brush against you while they start their rhythmic kitten purr that lulls you into a sense of maternal love that turns you into nothing but mush. Bingo! Those calculating devils have got you exactly where they want you. They can do just about anything now. They could shred your furniture, barf in your shoes, knock over a potted plant, attack your poor, helpless, ditz of a dog, and there is nothing you can do about it. Sure you could get mad, but no, not now that they have you trained. All they would have to do is look at you with those big glistening eyes and purr that heart-melting purr. Mush!

     Heaven forbid you should try to baptize them in the holy flea dip to excise those tiny demons that dwell in the city of silky smooth fur. All you end up doing is awakening a holy terror that struggles and thrashes about, claws out, spit and fire. The battle with the tiny demons is lost and again they reign supreme. You would think that cats, being as vain as they are, would relish the idea of getting rid of their unwelcome residents. Obviously not.

     Alas, you learn to live with all their faults and treasure the moments when they do things that you know they did not intentionally want to do, such as try to jump for a window sill and miss. Upon flopping to the ground, their vanity kicks in. With the sound of your laughter, they being to groom themselves in the same way the cool guys in the fifties grabbed their combs and slicked back their hair in an effort to look cool after a blunder. “It was nothing, I meant to do that.”

     As I sit here typing, my very own cat sits atop my monitor while her tail hangs down directly in the middle of the screen. I brush the tail away and continue to type. I brush the tail away and continue to type. I brush the tail away and continue to type. I brush the tail… I give up and continue, hoping that what I’m typing is correct since I can’t see the middle of the screen.

Here it goes…

After much decision making (more like trying this out on a whim), I’ve decided to start a blog/journal (whatever your techno-babble dictionary defines this format as). I’ve recently felt the need for a place that I could openly or rather generally express myself without having to consider my audience.  Throughout my day, I’m struck by random thoughts; sometimes amusing (at least to me), sometimes serious. I chatter with myself, laugh out loud, cry, and sometimes make myself so angry that I feel like going all Hulk on the furniture. I’ve so many opinions, musings, and feelings that are usually suppressed and never expressed for fear of offending, alienating, and appearing geeky or ridiculous by social standards. This is my start at experimenting on whether I can bring myself to really write how I want, when I want, and about whatever I want. All this with the willingness to accept feedback and comments (for better or worse) on what I write.  So, let experiment begin!

As this is my first entry I guess that I should start by talking a bit about myself.  You’re probably wondering about my username, “Unshelvedgeek87? What kind of username is that?” First off, you need to know that I aspire to become a librarian. This little tidbit will grant you access into my mind (maybe not the best place to be) as I explain my username’s meaning. There is a popular comic strip that is lovingly circulated throughout the library community called… wait for it… Unshelved.  It is generally hysterical and wonderfully captures the spirit of those who work in a public library. Who says working in a library is boring!?  I also consider the word “unshelved” to be my personal descriptor.  I’m unshelved in that I’ve yet to find a comfortable place for myself in my current stage of my journey through life.  How depressing I know, but on more of a brighter note, I’m unshelved in that my story is still being written. I’m still collecting knowledge and with that knowledge, good or bad, over time I am gaining wisdom. Why would I want to be set on a shelf collecting dust? Granted, some of the things that are contained within my covers are scary, quirky, ridiculous, depressing, and downright maddening. As much as anyone would rather not read these parts, they are what make a good story interesting. I, for one, can’t wait until my story’s author writes those final two words, “The End,” (or more appropriately “The final chapter, but not the end.”) and I can be the first one to crack the binding and read about all the experiences I’ve had (hopefully dreaming of a sequel).

          The following entries will contain all my randomness (for want of a better word). There will be no rhyme or reason, no pattern, no theme (actually you could say the theme would be ME), and no set schedule. The entries will contain whatever is on my mind at the time I write them. Some of what I’ll say may offend, be irrational, be humorous, deeply philosophical, or make no sense in a million years (to you anyway).  So (if you dare) come and get to know me through my posts and I’m open to opinions, insights, and new ideas, so feel free to leave all the comments you want.