Germs can be our friends too…right?

I’m sick.

And I don’t mean got a little cold kind of sick.  I mean gross kind of sick.  Fever, sore throat, headache, chills and all kinds of yuck.

So I’m sitting here, working through the painful and exhausting process of building up antibodies to some random strain of sick that I somehow didn’t get as a child, eating dirt in the back yard where the cats poo or drinking out of the hose.  And I’m watching reruns of Six Feet Under on HBO GO…and knitting (yeah I knit, and I’m good at it.  I also make jewelry, book marks, crochet, sew and cook.  And I’m good at all of it.  So don’t look at me like that).

I haven’t been sick in over two years.  I’ve even been exposed to swine flu twice now and never got it and have been coughed on, sneezed on…never got anything.  Then here I am, just turned thirty last Saturday.  I’ve been taking care of myself, eating right, working out.  And SICK happens!

Well I guess this is the best time for Sick to happen.  I strongly believe that people define their lives by comparisons.  You know, we know what light is because we’ve experienced the dark.  We know what happy is because we’ve cried through sadness.  Blah, blah, blah.  So I haven’t been appreciating life very much lately.  Not because of the big 30 though.  That was actually kind of exciting.  Getting older doesn’t bother me.  I guess I’ve been getting board and lonely a lot and I’ve started going through long periods of apathy.  I haven’t been appreciating the feeling of being well like I usually do.  So I guess it’s good for me to come down with the plague for a little bit.  Get it out of the way before it really warms up.  Because as soon as I’m better, I’m going to go frolicking or something.  Outside, in the sun.  I spend too much time home alone and it’s getting depressing.  It’s just been so cold and my car is still broken down and I only get two days off a week and my schedule sucks (seriously, I’m never going to meet someone with this schedule.  But what does is matter?  Everyone I know who has someone would rather not.  And everyone who had someone lost them.  We all die alone anyways so who gives a crap)…whoa.  Sorry about that.  My inner Emo just flopped out.  Oops.

See what I mean?  I need to be sick so I can better appreciate life when I’m better and, hopefully, get out of this doom slump I’ve been in.  Cause I can’t get any writing done when I’m like this.  Not anything good anyways.

Stupid doom slump.

Mrs. Dirty-Coat

194 single spaced, typed pages, countless had written pages more drawings and doodles than I can count.  I’ve been through about six packs of post-its and the timeline alone takes up an entire wall in my bedroom.  I know that smacking my head against bricks is something that all writers come up against but for crying out loud, I spent at least about 6 hours pacing in front of my Time-Line-Wall yesterday and all I came up with is question after bloody question.

Why is this guy so mad all the time?  What is it that he’s looking for that he can’t find?  Why does this dude hate that dude so much?  Why is that girl so scared all the time.  Why is this woman so sad?  How do you get through catacombs full of illusion spells, strange creatures and still make it to dinner on time? 

I know these questions are important.  If I’m asking them, the reader will defiantly ask them.  There cannot be holes in the story and if there’s one major importing thing that acting has taught me, it’s that the greatest way to make a character believable, is to give them history.  Give them a life.

If I’d known this little tid-bit a just a bit earlier in my life, I probably wouldn’t feel that my progress was so slow.  I’ve had to break down the story by the people.  By the protagonists and antagonists.  The heroes and villains.  No one’s a bad guy just because they choose to be and the same goes for the hero.  There is always a catalyst.  Most people are pretty content to live out a mediocre life.  But those who’ve experienced something profound are the ones who end up with greatness in one form or another.  Weather one becomes a great hero or a great villain, depends on the mind set, string of events and company that surrounds the individual after said profound event. 

Now, this isn’t just something you have to consider for the main character and villain.  You have to take care to create lives for the supporting characters as well.  Or else you have the problem I’ve run into.  They seem hollow.  Empty.  Boring.  They’re no fun to write about and if you’re getting board writing about someone, I promise the reader is going to get board reading about them. 

For instance, if you have a supporting character who vehemently hates the main character, just saying they’re a bully and describing their actions against person A isn’t enough.  WHY is person B a bully?  What made him/her that way?  Was it mom?  Dad?  Both?  Maybe it’s a lack thereof altogether.  Maybe mom and dad are wonderful people and the anger issues are due to mistreatment from another source.

Here’s the thing, even if you will never actually share these juicy little details with other readers, it makes person B far more interesting to write about and therefore, more interesting to read about.  That way you won’t have random “Crewman #6” who gets killed and no one cares.  You have someone with a name who lost their ‘life’.  This person, no matter how annoying, stupid, rude, infuriating etc, played a part in shaping person A into the hero/villain that he/she is today.  Therefore, no matter how small the part, the character is important enough to be given a LIFE.  Because their life is a part of the lives of the main characters. 

I realized much of this today while I was sitting at the bus stop (the bus was almost 30 minutes late), watching the snow begin to drift down from a gray sky.  A young woman came walking up with a huge, heavy looking backpack and an old, blue coat that was badly stained on the front with some kind of blackish smear.  She had bright eyes and a ready smile and she was more than happy to tell me all about the classes she’s taking at the community collage, about her husband who took the car to work today, all about how teaching 3^rd graders is more difficult than 2^nd graders (guess what she’s going to school for…). 

I’m not the most social person.  In fact, outside of work I usually avoid human contact as much as possible simply for the reason that I find most humans to be irritating, annoying, stupid, rude, irrational and completely without common sense…see where I’m going with this? 

While I was sitting there wishing Mrs. Dirty-Coat would go away or at least decide to stop speaking to me, I suddenly realized that she might be shaping some part of my life.  And sure enough, even though her part in ‘Leah’s Daily Story’ was small and seemingly meaningless, she’s the part that stuck with me through the day.  She’s who I remember.  She reminded me that I needed to give LIFE to my minor characters. 

So, whoever you were, Mrs. Dirty-Coat-At-The-Bus-Stop, thank you for talking to, and therefore, annoying the crap out of me.  You made my day, darling. J

Knock, Knock, Whine-Wheeze…Crunch!

My car finally broke down.  I was on my way home the other day and I barely made it into my parking spot at home when it gave a whine and wheeze.  The  CV axel on the right side has been knocking for a while and I just didn’t have the money to fix it.  So when it gave a final crunch I wasn’t surprised.  Oddly, I was relieved.  I’ve been waiting for it to do this for so long.  The last couple of days have been light and happy.  Like there’s this huge weight off my shoulders that I didn’t even know was there.

It was funny, really.  In retrospect I see myself pulling into my parking spot and hearing the car give a whine and an awkward crunch just as I put it into park.  I threw up my hands up and hollered “SAFE!”  with a huge grin on my face (even though the act of throwing up my hands resulted in some bruised fingers since the roof of my car is not that far from my head…)  I found amusement and relief in a situation that would usually cause alarm or stress (no, I’m not always the “glass is half full” type.  In some matters, the glass is rather empty and maybe cracked so any liquid leaks out the bottom when you least expect it, leaving you looking like you’ve wet your pants…or since it’s my glass, maybe it leaves me looking like I’ve wet my pants.  That would be embarrassing.  For someone else.  That’s actually happened to me before and I couldn’t stop laughing).     

Anyways, luckily, I live close to work and within walking distance of everything I need.  I’m really in no hurry to fix the car.  That doesn’t mean I won’t fix it.  This actually gives me the time I need to really fix it.  I’ll get to spend some quality time under the hood this summer (though someone else will have to replace those CV axels cause though I’m pretty awesome, I’m not awesome enough to lift my own engine block…I know, sad is the world). 

Lets see…so how’s the writing going?  Well, slow.  I’ve been feeling particularly uncreative lately, which is actually kind of depressing.  I think I need some sunshine.  A good friend at work has this sunshine lamp and I always feel so good around it.  I want one.  I’m not saying that I think it will improve my writing or anything, but I did write more than 15 pages while sitting at a desk near my friends sunshine lamp, all the while keeping up on all of my work related duties.  Then again, I always come up with loads of good material while I’m at work. 

Well, I’m watching V on ABC now.  I loved the old one when I was a kid and I love the new one now (Go reptiles!!) J

Another year...goodie!

This year, I will publish my book.  I'm not going to bother with any other resolutions.  I already quite smoking and stopped drinking coffee every day, stopped drinking more than once a month and started eating better and working out. 

Okay, now that the resolution part is over I'll tell you what I've been up to this year (I know, it's been so long).  I no longer have a roommate (YAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!!!!!).  I love living alone.  I love solitude.  I get my place all to myself now and I've been writing every day without interruptions.  I think I've pulled off at least twenty pages since the first.  I doodled around a little with watercolor paints (I'm not very good at it but it is fun).  I pulled muscles working out on Sunday while watching Starship Troopers, now my ribs hurt something fierce.

Now I’m sitting here watching Lie to Me and feeling my blood sugar drop.  It’s an interesting sensation.  First your ability to comprehend simple things starts to go (Like that sentence, it seriously took me about 10 minutes to write!!).  Then your muscles start to feel kinda fuzzy and your hands shake and your teeth start chattering….I must eat immediately.  Be right back. 

Alright, I’m back and I’m fed.  I had a big bowl of cream of rice cereal covered in butter and smothered in strawberry syrup (rice wouldn’t have helped by itself).  Now I’m sipping a huge cup of Vanilla Rooibos tea (yum!) and feeling somewhat sluggish (typical reaction).  Hypoglycemia…the result of a high metabolism.  Some people hate me for it…

Anyways, so I really don’t have much to write about.  There will be more later on.  Right now I’m just looking forward to completing 50 more pages of my book and having my sister down for the weekend coming up (two days of good food, shopping, gossip, good wine and good company), and now I even have a guest bedroom to put her in J. 

Till next time!

Christmas...yay

It finally started snowing for real.  I know that sounds odd because we have, of course, had snow already in Utah.  But the last couple weeks have been nothing but the rain. 

Driving home from work last night was…fun.  The roads were covered in ice.  My car had bald tires.  Could I have replaced them during the summer in anticipation of the coming winter, well yes.  But I chose to go to Japan instead.  Wouldn’t you?   In fact, I could probably replace them now,  but I want a piano.  .  I know, priorities, priorities.  But I’ve wanted a piano again for so long that it no longer feels like a want.  It feels like a need.  And with my brother moving out and freeing up my spare room, I’ll have somewhere to move my drafting table so it’s not in the living room and I can put my new, shiny piano there.  So let the snow fall, the tires can wait.  I’m a careful driver and I tend to only be driving in the middle of the night when the roads are relatively clear (look at me living on the edge!).  

For book stuff, well editing is a slow process.  I had my friend Rhett (a fellow lover of fantasy) read through part 1 and he found some massive errors that I missed.  You know how when you stare at something too long it starts to disappear?  Yeah, that must be what happened cause I got it back and was like, “wow…how did I miss that?”  I’ve been pushing myself to write so much that it’s disappearing.  So I need to put it aside for a few days and read a book.  Or finish reading a book.  I’m still reading Princep’s Fury by Jim Butcher (my all time favorite author).  The book actually came out a few years ago but with moving, dating, getting dumped, moving again, car problems, work, homework and my own book writing, it kinda fell by the wayside (sad).  But last night after I got home from work I watched the Miracle Worker (great movie), and read a few of Jim’s chapters, next thing I knew it was almost 5am (oops!  Damnit Jim!)

Now I’m half asleep/awake, having my morning tea and getting ready for work (except for this little break to post an overdue blog).

So for a little catching up, Christmas was kind of like a Monday (I actually like Mondays).  I went up to my sisters place and spent it with her family in Heber.  They have a momma mountain lion with some cubs in their back yard so my nieces can’t go out and play in the snow.  We don’t want to risk one of them becoming a snack.  Especially when my brother in law would make such a great meal (well fed, marinated and smoked as he is).  Here kitty, kitty…

I got home Christmas evening and spend the remainder of the day alone.  It was nice and quiet.  Just me and the kitties.

The next day I spent some good time with my parents.  I showed my dad how to use itunes and we sort of lost him for the rest of the evening (holy technology batman!).

I got to see the new Tron, Legacy movie (AWESOME! AWESOME! AWESOME!) in 3D.  I’m going to have to go see it again.  It was just incredible.  And Daft Punk did a wonderful job on the soundtrack.  If you are a fan of the old Tron, you will LOVE this movie.  In fact, even if you’ve never even heard of Tron in your life, you’ll still love it.  I would have to put it up there with How to Train your Dragon as the best movies of 2010 (Yes, I’ve seen Inception.  It was enjoyable, but predictable.  The problem with being a writer is when you’re reading something or watching something you think of what you would do to make it better or how you might twist the plot, then it happens and you realize that many writers think the same so you can pretty much predict the outcome of most movies or novels.  Not to say I didn’t like the movie.  It was good). 

Well, back to the getting ready for work.  I’ll write again next year J 

Music or Silence?

Music…

            It’s such a large part of our lives.  We are so constantly surrounded by music that silence often makes us uncomfortable.  It seems that many people play music, not to listen to, but just to hear.  Because music, sound, noise, voices…they make us comfortable.  It’s in movies and TV shows, blaring out car windows (I’ve made a game of singing to other people’s music while on the road), it plays in stores and even when you’re out, just walking down the sidewalk, you will hear music. 

            Music is a wonderful muse for a writer, but so is silence.  Writers have to put themselves in uncomfortable situations if for no other reason than to feel uncomfortable.  To experience it.  You cannot write that a character simply walks into a room and hears music (unless the music is the whole point of walking into the room).  Rooms have noise.  Life has noise and if you’re always drowning it out with music, you won’t hear it and therefore cannot describe it.

            Sometimes it’s those little noises in the distance that we don’t really pay attention to that make a scene feel real.  Like now, sitting in my apartment, I can hear the freeway outside my window and from this distance it sounds like a long, heavy sigh.  I can hear the wind as it whispers past my window, the jingle of my cats collars as they play in the living room and the constant, loud purr of my fridge (the fan has a problem but I’m used to it and it doesn’t bother me.  I think it adds character to my place…).  I can hear kids playing in the snow outside and even the soft tick, tick, tick of the clock in my bathroom.

            All these sounds are what make my place feel like my place.  These sounds are a part of home.  Without them, I would have that feeling of wrongness.  Like something is out of place but I can’t tell what.  Like the fridge, I usually don’t even notice that it’s purring until the fan stops and it’s suddenly quiet and I’m left in the silence of it’s wake (It’s loud enough to have a wake, believe me). 

            Since the speakers in my car shorted out a few years ago, I’ve been face with silence while driving and it’s made me appreciate the noise of the world around me that much more.  I sit in silence and contemplate.  Come up with “room tone” for whatever scene I’m going to write.  It’s the same with film.  Sure, they’re going to use music, but they will always get about 30 seconds to a minute of room tone too, just for sound.  Without it, the show or movie would seem…well, weird. 

            I’m not saying to not listen to music.  By all means, listen away.  I have very specific soundtracks set aside that I listen to for certain situations within my stories and I’ve found the instrumental music works the best.  Songs with words are about something already.  But instrumental pieces can be about whatever you want to be about. 

            For instance, the soundtrack for ‘The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford’ by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis.  If I were to describe that soundtrack, I would say it sounds like heartbreak and the strings and piano move you through every level of sorrow from denial to acceptance.  I’ve listened to this for scenes where characters die and for regular heart smashing alike.

 

            How to Train Your Dragon by John Powell is all joy and adventure.  Listening to this soundtrack makes you feel like you’re flying. 

            Gladiator by Hans Zimmer and Transformers part 1 are great battle soundtracks.

            And of course anything by Nobuo Uematsu, the genius behind all of the Final Fantasy soundtracks.  They are all of the above and his Piano Collections have pulled me through many a rough spot both personally and literary.

            There is a big difference between listening and hearing.  I tell this to my students at work all the time.  In order to truly understand something, you need to listen, with full attention.  You’ll notice little things about people that you didn’t not previously realize, you’ll hear sounds that you never before perceived.

            You’ll see that even when the music if off, the world around you still makes it.   

Zombies and String...

            I spent Sunday rearranging my room.  I moved everything from one wall to the other…which is a big feat for me.  As a Taurus, I will usually put something in one spot (where ever I feel that it should go, and it never moves).  I’m not particularly fond of change.  I know, it’s necessary, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

            So why did I rearrange my room?  A few months ago I was on the phone with my sister and I guess she’d been reading some kind Fung Shui book.  She told  me that she realized that my whole apartment was perfect Fung Shui and was surprised that I’d never read a book on it.  Like I said, I put things where they make me feel comfortable, and I leave them there. 

            The exception to this, was my bedroom.  Everything was correct except for the east and west walls.  I guess my west wall should be the career wall and the east one should be the hobby wall.  I had it the other way around.  I figured giving it a try couldn’t hurt.  Hey, I’m an artist and we’ll try all kinds of weird things to improve our skills and crafts. 

            Anyhow, weather or not it works is yet to be determined, but hey, my room does look a lot nicer now that you can’t see the huge mess of papers and doodles that makes up my novel from the living room.  I like it. 

            It took me all day Saturday and well into Sunday to complete this project of moving stuff.  I have a lot of stuff.  I like stuff (Taurus).  When I was done I went for a walk in the snow and ended up at the craft store (dangerous place for me).  I mostly just needed to get out but I practically live in the middle of an outdoor shopping center. 

            When I got back home, Dexter was just starting on Showtime and Walking Dead would be following that so I settled down to get in some good TV watching time (If you’re thinking, “Bad Leah!  You should have been writing in this free time!”  All I must say to that is…I do what I want!). 

            I’m not one to sit still easily so when I watch TV I also must be doing something with my hands or I have difficulty paying attention.  So I knit (don’t judge me, its fun).  I knitted all the way through Dexter and The Walking Dead on AMC.   The weird thing though, is that when I finally fell asleep, I dreamed that I was being chased by zombies and I kept getting tangled in yarn.  Then there was this little, bald dog/cat monster with tentacles that kept running around me in circles like an excited puppy, which confused the zombies for a little while.

            I’m thinking I probably should not combine knitting and zombies for a while.  Because as funny as that dreams sounds, zombie dreams are actually scary.  

            Well, since my last post I’ve written 9 new pages in my novel.  They’re not in any particular order.  Mostly random scenes.  They usually fall into place later on.  I don’t actually write in a linier fashion.  I write all these separate pieces and after a while they just fall into place.  You know, a conversation here, a fight scene there.  The only thing that bugs me is when I get a scene stuck in my head that can’t happen in my first book.  But it won’t stop replaying itself until I write it down.  So I give in, hoping it will make way for something I can work with on the book I’m writing right now but my brain decides to throw a story idea for a completely different book at me.

            Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not actually complaining.  I’m always happy to receive new story ideas.  I write them down and save them for later.  I guess I just want to finish the book I started.

            It’s 11:33 AM.  Last night I dreamed that I was way up in the mountains, in a giant garden full of hot peppers in every shape, size and color.  I ended up there cause I was trying to get away from assassins (I’m not sure why they wanted me dead…).

The lady who owned the place was a beautiful, full figured woman that gave me a bazooka and a jar of salsa, said something in Spanish and disappeared.  I woke up thinking of breakfast burritos and salsa so I’m going to go make breakfast.