Today's View, Sponsored by My Writing Window

What's on the Blackberry? Crystalised by The XX.

Well, that was exhausting!

Back from helping Sparkly Hubby with his busy, busy, business this Christmas. Back to writing, and editing. Back to hating my manuscript. All is well with the world.

My peeps have been rummaging around in my pea brain, striking against the inside of my cranium. They seem kind of pissed off -- ignored, abandoned. Not that I blame them; here we were, a team, the bunch of us, off on a roll. First draft, done, ah hah! No problem. Then, dropped, rolled like a gutter ball at glo bowl night, watching as the 7 pound sphere rolled away into the night like a dropped beacon.

So I understand why they're mad. But it's not as if they were forgotten, no, they were the reason I put the wrong date on the mailing, why my direct mail was late. I'll even blame my peeps for my ad rep placing ads on the wrong date -- them, I blame them all My peeps -- them, all them! In my head wracking around -- distracting me from my j.o.b.

I am the girl in GLASS, Ellen Hopkin's novel. I am the plotting meth addict, planning a score after a forced hiatus, though my drug of choice is a keyboard and a fictional boy named Graham. I am feeling the adrenaline pulse through my veins as I plan my reunion with my peeps; oh yes, it will be sweet.

Just as soon as I feed Sparkly Junior his breakfast.

When Are You a Writer?

It happened again Friday. I was distracted by the cold flat plate, the tech squishing my left side into a part that didn't look like it could fit. Flat meets round. "So what do you do?" she asked, nonchalant, probably her hundredth mammogram of the day. I stopped, trying to stay still as instructed. She caught me off guard.

I do a lot of things, some of them well, some not so well. I design art, I feed hte Minions, find Things Lost and Hidden, help Sparkly Hubby. Sometimes I sneak in a shower. These things are a given, made tangible through practice and error. But what about writing? Plenty of error there, heh heh.

I paused before answering her, guilty like a teenager caught with cigarettes hidden under a mattress. I did not answer her as she squished me onto the plate because honestly I'm not sure when you can label yourself as such. When one is published, I suppose I will answer different. I surmise that the hours I spend plotting and revising don't count -- simply because I am unfinished.

Learning Voice

As an unpublished writer I read a lot, though I understand a lot of published writers can read :) the onus is on the unproven ones to improve, perfect . . . publish. Ahhh . . . Voice, the resonance of a writer that makes the gentle reader see, understand, reflect. It is up to the writer to reach inside onself and pull out that feeling, open it up big and wide, that big cavernous pit into which the reader will fall and forget that there is H1N1 at school and laundry to fold. It is capitalized because I see it as a crater on the moon, an echo in an abandoned boat house -- waves bouncing against the splintered teak. Many writers relay they reach for music for inspiration, I reach for a book, a good one. Stephen, Anna, Maggie - - Voice, give me Voice.

Today's View

The dawn breaks early these days but I caught this at sunrise. You're welcome. It's hard not to be inspired when you are writing about the water and you see this.

Boats

One of the vessels featured in my novel Webbed is a 1965 Riva Aquarama -- a pristine example will go for over a half million dollars, even in today's market -- just try and find one! Crafted and polished of mahogany and teak, they were made by the Riva family of Italy. The Rivas still makes larger motor yachts today. The Riva Superaquarama, aka the Super, was a favorite of celebrities over the world, including the sultry Brigitte Bardot. It was also favored by the Shah of Iran. Yes, that guy. One can dream, can't one? I mean, isn't that what fiction is all about? I have to admit I am a purist, my Riva would be fashioned with the original cyan and white cushions in the back playpen, just like Brigi's, n'est pas?

Today's View

Seriously, there is a reason why I live where I do; granted there is nothing much here, nary a Target, Barnes & Noble, Home Depot nor a Big R (which I love). Not to mention there is not much of a writing community or a gaggle of critique groups. But, to be honest, the view from my writing window does have it perks. Thus, why I live in the middle of nowhere has to do with about 900 acres of H2O and a slit of heaven at the gloaming, 'round 5 o'clock in the afternoon.

Owl City oh my

I love the new Owl City Fireflies song! Love it and think the band is amazing. Though I am a little concerned that we heard it on XM today on our drive home; not just any channel, though, it was the DISNEY CHANNEL for whoops sake! Congrats on making the big time Owl City, love ya!

If you haven't yet, check out wordle.net, a word slash abstract art slash writing jumble that sorts through your manuscript, selecting frequently used words. Very cool!