SIGH

I'm old.

I did the math--54 days until 40.

But that's not what made me feel old.

On Saturday, I took my 12-year-old son to to the university for the Scout merit badge Pow-Wow. It happens to be my alma mater. And from the moment I set foot on campus, I felt 22 again.

(I loved college. Loathed junior high, tolerated most of high school, liked my senior year of high school . . . but I loved college.)

My first jolt came in the Humanities Building. I hadn't been inside it for years. From the outside, most of it looks exactly the same (they did put an addition on one end.) So I was unprepared for the inside . . .

Presumably the walls are still in the same places, and there were still staircases that had a vague familiarity, but otherwise--zip. Zero.

I once knew that building inside out. I could point out the copy center and the various classrooms where I took Shakespeare and Linguistics and Romantic Poetry and Victorian Women's Lit and Mystery Novels. I knew the spot in the halls I preferred to sit and read between classes. I even remember where I was sitting, three months pregnant with my first and waiting to do an oral presentation on Florence Nightingale, when I heard my first labor and delivery horror stories.

Still, it wasn't all bad. It looks a lot nicer. There are benches against the walls so students don't have to sit on the floors. It was absolutely empty on Saturday morning. And I had an iPod to listen to and a notebook to write in. I coped.

But my pride had taken a crack in its foundation. What is the saying about pride and falls?

Mine was about to fall.

I spent an hour in the bookstore, which was much less changed, wandering up and down the aisles browsing like I last did, oh, fifteen or twenty years ago. I was feeling fairly secure about my appearance. I know I look younger than my age. With my new jeans (BodyBugg still working--down 15 pounds) and black ankle boots and slim-fit long-sleeved t-shirt, I thought I could pass for a grad student.

Then a man in a scout uniform asked, "You're here with your son for the Pow-Wow too?"

Ack. My prideful foundation trembled. But that's okay, I told myself, he's one of us--a father who has lots of experience picking out other parents.

I chose several books and waited to pay. The cashier asked the young man in front of me for his student ID. He gave it and received his discount.

Me? I was smugly happy to pay full price as long as I got to say breezily, "Thank you so much, but I'm no longer a student."

She didn't even ask.

Bam! There I was, in the ruins of my pride, facing the fact that I can no longer pass for a student--even of the graduate variety.

Do you suppose being in Maui for my birthday will make the pain less?

Today's word count: 1710

Total word count: 49,047

Tomorrow's plan: finish Colin and Kieran's talk, lead off the unexpected month

Today's word count: 1677

Total word count: 47,335

Tomorrow's plan: the long night with Colin watching over Gemma

Ah! So close. I so wanted to say that, at the halfway point, I had hit my daily average of 1500 words. But as I do the math, I see I'm short of that goal by 165.

You would think I might go back and force myself to add 165 more words.

But I think I'll call it a night. I wrote an intense scene, I'm fairly happy with it, and I'm at a good starting point for tomorrow.

All is well.

Today's word count: 2180

Total word count: 45,656

Tomorrow's plan: Gemma's accident and aftermath

So I took heart from Becca's comment a few posts ago and I just wrote scenes today--I'll worry about making them a story later :)

Today's word count: 1037

Total word count: 43,476

Tomorrow's plan: see where the muse takes me

So today was fun. Fun is good. Fun is not necessarily chronological, or expected. But it is definitely good.

Today's word count: 1531

Total word count: 42,435

Tomorrow's plan: haven't a clue

Today is one of those I-hate-the-middle days, mixed with a generous leaven of I'm-truly-kidding-myself moods. I hate plots. Why can't I just write wonderful characters having great scenes? Why does it all have to knit together? Why does a book need a middle anyway? And why, oh why, don't I want to something else with my life, like bake great treats or run for office or go to graduate school?

Sigh.

Today's word count: 1647

Total word count: 40,901

Tomorrow's plan: Kieran investigates Eliza's death

I'm 600 words behind where I should be, but feeling pretty good overall. By far my favorite scenes to write are those between Kieran and Colin--should I just give in and start writing romance novels?

Today's word count: 2112 (trying to slowly make up for my low days)

Total word count: 39,247

Tomorrow's plan: Kieran and Colin and the solution of the first murder

Today's word count: 1505

Total word count: 37,143

Tomorrow's plan: Sandrine's suspcious of Kieran's illness, watching Lucas and Colin fence, supposed solution of first murder

Today's word count: 378

Total word count: 35,627

Tomorrow's plan: Write More Words :)
Okay, I did do Kieran's illness today, which means her recovery tomorrow

Today's word count: 683

Total word count: 35,245

Tomorrow's plan: still Kieran's illness and recovery--today I did part of a new Chapter 2

Today was surgery day for my son--his port was removed--so I'm proud that I wrote at all :)

Today's word count: 1663

Total word count: 34,560

Not bad for a day that started without any idea of what happened next :)

Tomorrow's plan: Kieran's illness and recovery

OCTOBER BOOKS

CYBELE'S SECRET/Juliet Marillier/A-
It's not secret to anyone who knows me that I love Marillier's hsitorical fantasies. This is a sequel to WILDWOOD DANCING, a YA novel set in eastern Europe in about the 16th-century. In this outing, Paula, the middle daughter, travels with her father to Constantinople to trade and in search of a possibly mythical artifact. But the artifact proves to be all too real, as does the danger surrounding it. Of course there's a handsome man (two actually) and Paula has to learn to use both her cleverness and her courage to follow the clues being laid for her by those of the otherworld. Full of strong characters, compelling action, and wonderful setting and detail.

FINAL EXAM/Pauline Chen/B+
Chen is a liver transplant surgeon who was troubled by the difficulties the medical field had in dealing with terminal patients. This book is a collection of essays about the topic--from how it's taught (or not taught) in medical schools to dealing with individual patients and making realistic recommendations for their care. I read this for obvious reasons and found it moving and a decent insight into the doctors and nurses we've spent so much time with this year.

SPECIAL TOPICS IN CALAMITY PHYSICS/Marisha Pessl/A+
This is possibly my favorite book of this year. Marketed as a YA novel (presumably because of the 17-year-old protagonist), it's a wickedly clever, deadly funny, and brilliantly and unexpectedly plotted. Pessl obviously wallows in language, but she doesn't let that come at the expense of plot. Blue van Meer has spent her childhood, since her mother's death, moving around the country with her professor father. They've landed in North Carolina for her senior year of high school, a private school where Blue meets Hannah, the charismatic and mysterious Film teacher, and somehow winds up running with the cool kids. But when a man drowns in Hannah's pool during a costume party, things take a turn for the dramatic worse. Blue is an absolutely and utterly engaging narrator and when I finished the book, I thought, "Man! I've got to read that straight over again now that I know what's really going on!"

THE SONNET LOVER/Carol Goodman/A
Another wonderful Goodman romantic/literary suspense novel. This one is set in Italy, where Renaissance poetry teacher Rose Asher retreats after the apparent suicide of her favorite student. There are rumors that the student had stolen sonnet manuscripts from the Italian villa that hosts the college's study abroad program. But that's not her only concern--twenty years ago, Rose fled the same villa at the end of a painful affair. Now she's face to face with her lover, his wife, and their son and she's beginning to suspect that her student's death wasn't suicide. Throw in a possible identification of Shakespeare's famous "Dark Lady" and you have all the elements for a fabulous read.

THE SISTERS MORTLAND/Sally Beauman/B
I loved the first part of this book, and then it went a little flat later on. The opening is set in 1960s England in a country house that is falling down and houses three sisters--beautiful Julia, clever Finn, and odd little Maisie. Maisie narrates the first part, giving us a 13-year-old's view of her sisters and the men around them. Then we jump to 1990, when an art exhibition displays a now-famous portrait of the three sisters. It's a slow unraveling of the disasters and accidents that happened at the end of Maisie's summer account and how those disasters are only now playing out to their end. It was worth the 5 dollars I paid for it on clearance, but not more.

THE BLADE ITSELF/Marcus Sakey/A-
Danny and his best friend Evan were once partners in crime in Chicago. But when Evan wound up in prison for attempted murder, Danny went straight. Seven years later, he's shocked to find Evan out of prison. And Evan wants something from him--something Danny is afraid not to give. As the saying goes--"The more you have, the more you have to lose." A hardboiled novel, not my usual fare, but this is eloquently written and the characters are unique. But I thought Sakey's strongest element was his creation of setting and atmosphere. I felt like I was right in downtown Chicago, at night, in the dark, with winter looming and danger in every shadow.

And I re-read several of The Lymond Chronicles by Dorothy Dunnet (you can find my reviews of these historical novels somewhere last year)
THE GAME OF KINGS
THE DISORDERLY KNIGHTS
PAWN IN FRANKINCENSE
And I still loved them every bit as much as the first time :)

Today's word count: 1550

Total word count: 32,895

Tomorrow's plan: um, yeah, we're coming up against my no-outlining problem . . . let me go away and ponder on it awhile

Today's word count: 1599

Total word count: 31,343

Tomorrow's plan: facing off with Colin, overhearing Thompson

Today's word count: 1531

Total word count: 29,740

Tomorrow's plan: Sandrine's secret visit and Kieran's reckoning

Today's word count: 1556

Total word count: 28,209

Tomorrow's plan: Whitby visit

ANOTHER NOVEMBER/ANOTHER CHALLENGE

Last November, I challenged myself to write 1500 words each day for the duration of the month, aiming to complete the first draft of my absolutely endless YA historical fantasy. I didn't quite hit the absolute numbers (I believe my daily average was between 1300 and 1400) but I did finish the draft.

(As for what's happened to that draft since--don't ask. The first half is in decent shape, but after working at it during the early months of Jacob's treatments, I just couldn't go on. I do plan to return to it, but that's a story for another day.)

I have another story I want to finish this November. I began writing it after I returned from WorldCon in August, the idea sparked by a faithful writing friend and a Regency ball, as well as inspiration from Diana Gabaldon's OUTLANDER. Here's the query I worked out to get me started--think of it as back-cover copy on a published novel.

Seventeen-year-old Kieran Holt is visiting Yorkshire when she sees Sorrows Court for the first time.

Or is it the first time?

Kieran has disconcerting flashes of memory at Sorrows Court and finds herself drawn to the story of former owner Colin Langlie, whom history records as a traitor and killer. But when she explores an old tunnel on the night of the full moon, Kieran gets more than déjà vu and history lessons—she winds up at Sorrows Court in 1800.

It’s not all empire dresses and candlelit balls—in France, Napoleon is rising and more than alcohol is being smuggled across the sea. In this world, there are some secrets men would kill to keep, no matter who gets in the way. But Kieran holds the greatest secret of all—the date of Colin Langlie’s death.

Can she change the past? Should she? Caught between times, Kieran must choose what to believe—history or her heart.

So there you go. As of last night, I had reached 25,000 words on the first draft. Now I go on. As last year, I'll post each night my word count for the day, my total word count, and my plans for the next scene. Wish me luck!


Today's word count: 1579
Total word count: 26,649
Tomorrow: more of Rosemary Langlie's history and visit to Whitby

DREAMING


I've always been a dreamer--both day and night. But it's the nighttime kind I want to discuss, because of an interesting phenomena I noticed this year.

My dreams have always been vivid, colorful, and almost entirely populated by strangers. Yes, my hsuband popped up quite a bit, and occasionally friends or my children. But more or less, my dreams were like my stories--wonderful scenes, intriguing characters, and almost no logical story to speak of. Once I began writing seriously, I would often dream about my stories and characters and even when I dreamed about something completely unrelated to what I was currently writing, I would wake up with an image or an emotion that I needed for a writing project. It was wonderful--my own version of getting drunk, I suppose, to help unleash the Muse.

And then something very odd happened. After my son was diagnosed with cancer in January, my dreams changed. It took me a good six weeks or so to realize it, but then it hit me--I was no longer dreaming about strangers.

My dreams were as vivid and colorful and disconnected as ever, but they were now populated wholly by people I know. My husband and children, my best friends . . . all of them became stars in my dreams.

It didn't take long to figure out why. Dream analysis may be beyond me, but I do know that the subconscious will throw our worries at us. Apparently, all I had to worry about before this year was my writing. But once January came . . . well, my worries were entirely about the people I love.

So I went with it. Not that I could do much else--I've heard of the concept "directed dreaming" but honestly, that just seemed mean. Why shut off my subconscious that was working so hard while I slept? Besides, for all I know, allowing my worries to express themselves at night in freeform helped keep me rational and calm during the day. Small price to pay.

Why am I bringing this up now? Because in the last week, I've noticed my dreams start to change once more. I still haven't made it through a dream (that I recall) that doesn't have at least one person I know, but strangers are starting to show up once again. Maybe my subconscious is starting to let go now that we've reached the end of treatment. Maybe it's paying attention to how hard I'm working on my new project and is trying to help me out.

Still, if it's trying to help me out in my writing, you'd think it could give me clearer direction than me meeting an astronaut who was hit by a chunk of space dust during a spacewalk and had to have her arm amputated in space and now can see her arm floating in some space debris through a really big telescope.

(To give my subconscious credit, it was a very moving dream. Full of wonderful details and amazing characters . . . I'm just trying to figure out how that's supposed to help me write about a modern teenager in 1800s England. I guess my conscious mind needs to get back into shape as well.)

STUFF


After a two-day trip with my husband last week (actually, it was 44 hours from the time we dropped kids off at grandma and grandpa's to the time we pulled back into our driveway), I've discovered what stuff I can live without and what stuff I can't.

I can live without:

1. More than one brush

2. More than one choice of eyeshadow

3. Pajamas (don't go raising eyebrows there and feeling happy for my husband--it was not intentional)

4. My laptop (but I suspect my tolerance for being without that would have evaporated around hour 45)

5. A coat

I can NOT live without:

1. Multiple pairs of shoes ("I just get excitable as to choice"--Jayne speaking about weapons)

2. Multiple books (I took three)

3. My iPod

4. Workout clothes (not only did I spend an hour in the fitness room, but I took a 90-minutes Pilates class)

5. Hot water and a warm bed (we were in the mountains--at Snowbird--and we hiked and I enjoyed the outdoors and the colors and the air and that enjoyment was made all the better for knowing I could have a shower and sleep under a comforter at night, not to mention having someone make breakfast and dinner for me)