I was hearing that nasty voice in my head today
as I worked on a project long dormant.
It tied me up in knots.
Filled me with self-loathing and doubt.
I pushed past it and met the small goal I’d set.
Then I watched one of my favorite movies about writers and writing:
ADAPTATION.
I’m feeling much better.
I left the revision cave today to get my hair done
(looking something like this):
I wanted a crew cut but knew that wouldn’t fly with my stylist.
So I tried to make a half-way change and get it cut as short as possible
while still allowing a ponytail (for running).
But at the moment of decision I thought about my Laura-bracelet:
LEAP & THE NET WILL APPEAR.
I opted for short-short.
And I’m very happy.
I want to check in here since I haven’t been around much lately,
but don’t want to completely fall out of the habit of blogging
while I’m hunkered down in the revision cave.
So here’s where I’m at in my collective health:
Emotionally speaking, I’m feeling good about the positive changes I’m
making via my revisions and choices for my career. I feel in control
of those factors I can control.
Physically speaking, I’m doing very well. Last Friday I graduated from
PT after seven weeks of no running. I can now run again on a limited basis
as I work back to where I was before. I’m also able to hoop again!!
My daily plank routine is going well, and I just finished a three-minute plank.
(I’m telling you, if you haven’t tried them, they’re a great way to firm up your core;
you see results very quickly).
Parentally speaking, in this exact moment I’m doing a better job of remembering
I already navigated my high school years and that it’s up to my boys to do the same.
(But, oh, it would be so nice to have a magic wand to keep away the hurt and angst).
Friendly speaking, I miss everyone here. And while I have glimmers of guilt for not
keeping up, I know you all understand. You get why it’s important to keep my head
down and push on through. But please know I’m thinking of you and sending good
thoughts your way.
Am dashing off in a few minutes for a full day of basketball.
Zebu’s in a tournament and so I’m packing up the laptop
and hitting the bleachers.
Here’s some Agnes outlook to get you through the day:
AGNES by Tony Cochran
Let’s hope Grandma went easy on the pine nuts.
Am hard at work in the revision cave,
but wanted to share a tip that might help others.
I had concerns about continuity within a relationship
between two characters,
so I went through my entire manuscript and used the Highlighting function
to color code everything having to do with that relationship.
I used one color for interior thoughts
and another for direct interaction between the characters.
The colors made it very easy to track the progression in the relationship,
and I’m now confident the ms isn’t suffering from emotional ping-pong.
(I thought I’d already eliminated that stuff but apparently my emotionalism dies hard).
There’s a good chance you all know about this computer highlighting trick
(I’ve done this before with hard copy but never within my document),
but I’m a big believer in putting info out there.
May this tip reach the right person at the right time…
I’m missing this community, but am sending good thoughts for all your writing and life projects!
Spotted this guy sunning himself on the patio this morning:
And here’s Lebowski lounging in the sedum:
He didn’t even notice the snake,
and neither did the dogs.
It’s scary when I’m the most observant on a Monday morning.
1) Zebu was born in Anchorage, Alaska, fourteen years ago today
after twenty-six hours of labor from which I went temporarily AWOL.
2) I’d planned a home birth but since Zebu was early, law dictated I had to be in the hospital,
which is one of my least favorite places on the planet.
3) But I coped by going out on the grounds with my friend, A, who coached me through
contractions as we watched a moose ramble around.
4) We found out later the nurses were paging me over and over, but I eventually returned to my room
and they didn’t yell all that much.
5) After many more hours of labor, my beautiful Zebu was born, and today we celebrate him.
One constant over the years is Zebu’s robust dislike for having his picture taken.
I’ve been scarce around here and am popping in to say
I’m thinking of everyone
but am putting my time/energy/focus into some revisions.
I don’t like neglecting my online community
but feel it’s best for my emotional/writerly health to keep forging ahead.
I’m making progress and that is good for my soul.
Know that I’m thinking of you and wishing happy stuff all the way around!
Here’s a Coco pic to make you smile:
Bonus points to anyone who can tell me what she’s thinking.
AGNES by Tony Cochran
I’m doing WAY better than Agnes;
No bee stings for me!
Can I just say that I love my fella?
We went out to dinner the night of my emotional wallop,
and my fortune cookie fortune didn’t feel very apt.
I folded it and put it in my pocket.
But then a couple days later I noticed this tucked into our bathroom mirror:
And now I’m thinking I have the best fortune;
I have Zippy by my side.
I don’t know how I would’ve made it through childhood without books.
I’m the fourth of five children, and don’t have memories of picture books and lap reading,
maybe because life was hectic and it didn’t happen often.
But I do remember reading books by myself, some of them over and over.
Independent reading was a gift,
and I took advantage of it.
Every day.
In my room,
on the bed or floor,
on the couch,
in a tree,
back of the car,
in a tent,
on the school bus,
curled up on the window seat,
at the kitchen table.
Reading, always.
Books got me through.
They still do.
Which is why I’m so proud to be part of the group
From the Mixed-Up Files . . . of Middle-Grade Authors.
(Special thanks to Elissa Cruz for the idea and organization!)
Today is our launch and I hope you’ll go check out the new site.
You might win free books in our first giveaway,
but at the very least I hope you’ll relive your own middle-grade reading memories.
Thank you so much for having my back.
The comments and emails have made a huge difference to my emotional state.
In the midst of all that angst, I realized I was missing something:
my PREVAIL bracelet.
The cord had worn out and I’d gone without the bracelet for several weeks.
On Friday night, Zippy and I found new cord and he put PREVAIL back on my wrist,
alongside another Laura Hamor creation:
LEAP & THE NET WILL APPEAR.
Now I wear them together and the lovely clinking sound they make
reminds me of the beautiful, powerful Laura, and the many other friends who have my back.
Thank you, thank you.
This community is truly a life-saver.
Yesterday I suffered a massive blow to my quest for publication.
I’m still reeling from it all and trying to process
what it means for me in the long-term.
More than once the thought has entered my mind that I should give up,
cry "Uncle!"
Take up something new.
But as I sat on my patio this morning,
in a stunned kind of mourning,
I saw an ant dragging an equally large ant across the paver stones.
WARNING: Avert your gaze if you do not like ants!
© 2010 Tracy Abell
Then the ant started up the vertical wall of my step,
and my first thought was, "Wow. That’s some strength."
My second thought was, "Hey, if a tiny ant can summon all that inner fortitude, so can I."
So, while I’m still feeling shaky and unsure,
I’m also feeling that glimmer of resolve that’s carried me this far.
I’m counting on The Mighty Ant to remind me of my capabilities.
I will prevail.
1) Sometimes you just want to pack a bag and run away
2) but since that’s generally frowned upon, you hunker down
3) and hope for a shift in attitude and behavior.
4) The wait feels like forever, but that shift always comes,
5) and when it does, the sun shines and the birds sing.
© 2010 Tracy Abell
Wishing everyone a weekend filled with blue skies, calm waters, and an overall mellow vibe.
Today is the end of Zebu’s school year.
His last day of eighth grade and middle school.
The last day to ride the school bus
and witness kids throwing plastic soldiers out the windows at cars,
and other acts of idiocy.
He’s happy.
Happy, happy.
So in honor of his accomplishment
and also to brighten this overcast day,
I bring you a festive American Goldfinch:
© 2010 Zippy
We have a new thistle feeder, and this bird swooped in on the second day.
Haven’t seen him since, though, so if he shows up in your yard,
please tell him Tracy says hello.
I just read two YA novels by two well-known authors.
(Note: these authors are not on LiveJournal).
I’ve read and enjoyed other novels by these authors.
But I did not like either of these books.
At all.
The first was filled with repetitious interior dialogue,
as the narrator told the reader about his thoughts/feelings four different ways.
The second was based on an unbelievable premise that required a light touch
but instead was handled with a sledge hammer.
My jaw dropped when I read the final page because I couldn’t believe an editor let it go.
Then again, the entire book was written that way.
But you know what?
I did a quick online search, and discovered that all sorts of people enjoyed those books.
Books are a matter of taste,
and I need to remember that as I work to get my stories published.
Thomas Jefferson advised "In matters of principle, stand like a rock; in matters of taste, swim with the current."
That’s probably good advice, Tom.
But while I won’t argue with people’s taste regarding these books,
I’m not jumping in to swim alongside popular opinion.
That’s a reader’s right.
A right shared by those editors reading my manuscripts.
As I type this,
Zippy, Wildebeest, and Zebu
are running the Bolder Boulder 10k.
They should be heading into their third mile right now.
The third mile’s the hardest on this course.
Uphill and lots of turns.
Go, men, go!
Lean into the hill and lift those knees!
You’re doing great!
This morning I’m headed to my brother’s house
on a Beautification Mission.
It feels like the perfect project for me right now.
Number one, it’ll make him happy
but it will also help me overcome my feelings of overwhelm and despair
related to the massive oil spill and calls for more war funding.
Digging in the soil as I talk and laugh with my brother
will be the best remedy for what ails me, I think.
I’m taking plants from my garden:
Including several Red Valerian plants:
© 2010 Tracy Abell
And a whole lot of Bearded Iris bulbs that may or may not be this color:
© 2010 Tracy Abell
I hope to create a lovely oasis of calm and beauty for my brother
who next week is flying to Florida to drive back to Colorado with our mother.
It’s my way of thanking him for being a good guy.
Whatever your mission, I wish you a memorable Memorial Day weekend.
AGNES by Tony Cochran
I don’t even want to know what Trout would say about my life.
Because I’m still in limbo waiting for feedback on CLOSE TO HOME,
I’m tackling some long overdue household projects.
Yesterday I stripped the scary green paint from kitchen cabinet doors using
this great non-toxic, soy-based paint remover.
I’m environmentally sensitive, and can’t walk in the detergent
aisle in the grocery store because of all the nasty odors.
The soy-based remover was fine for me with adequate ventilation
(I worked in my garage), and I highly recommend it.
Why use conventional products and expose yourself to a soup of toxic chemicals
that may harm your respiratory system, skin, internal organs, brain and nervous system?
Not to mention the harm to the planet from producing the stuff?
And, because I need to stick with my Write No Matter What attitude,
here is a little home improvement haiku:
So long now, green paint.
Wish you’d come with a warning:
"Best if eyes are closed."
Yesterday I wrote about being grumpy as a result of not writing.
Later, I wrote some fast fiction that excelled in its suckiness.
However, I felt better for doing it,
and this morning, resolved to write something else.
Without censoring myself for additional suckiness.
Ladies and gentlemen, behold the uncensored product of Tracy’s mind:
MARKING TIME
I just saw a flicker poop
on the railing.
After he lured me to the window
with his urgent, chirpy call.
He pooped right in front of me,
then just up and flew away.
Without looking back.
Without acknowledging his audience of one.
And I’m left to wonder
what it is I’m supposed to do
now.
Oh, wait.
I know.
© 2010 Tracy Abell
There are lots of contributing factors to my current State of Grumpy:
It’s incredibly windy right now
which means I can’t work in my garden
which means no exercise
since my hip is still messed up and I can’t do much of anything else
which also means I’m gaining weight.
And did I mention it’s Monday?
A really windy Monday?
But I also just realized I haven’t written much of anything in a week
as I’m still in CLOSE TO HOME limbo as I wait for readers’ responses.
I cannot work on BIRD BRAIN until I can give it my undivided attention
because I’ve started and stopped that project so many times I’m
afraid it’ll dwindle into nothing if I don’t give it the respect it’s due.
So there I was.
Crabby, crabby crabby.
Until I grabbed a book off my shelf, THE ELEVENTH DRAFT: Craft and the Writing Life from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop,
and opened it to Barry Hannah‘s piece, Mr. Brain, He Want a Song.
This is what I read:
". . . this is why I find working writers to be among the happiest folks in the world. Among the unhappiest are those who are not working and have endless questions. You do not want to get within a block of these people. The Great Suck – big bottom lip, the sulk, the neurotic and despondent vortex. But working writers are like unprosecuted felons."
I’m off to my PT appointment but as soon as I’m home,
I’m going to write some flash fiction or a poem.
Something.
I cannot stand wallowing in The Great Suck.
However, I probably won’t go so far as to commit a felony
(unless you count writing really bad poetry as a crime).
Wildebeest didn’t have school yesterday so we spent time together.
1) I drove him to Boulder so he could run two miles on a treadmill to get a qualifying time
for the BolderBoulder on Memorial Day.
2) While in Boulder, we took our recyclables to the recycling center
where Wildebeest impressed me with his knowledge of paper board vs cardboard.
3) As we drove back on Highway 93 (which is a beautiful drive along the foothills), we watched
a courageous (foolhardy?) bird repeatedly harass a much larger hawk.
4) We talked about many things, including the fact that because a person’s sexuality encompasses
much more than a sex life, it’s reasonable to discuss Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan’s sexuality.
5) Last, we went to the DMV so Wildebeest could get his learner’s permit, and watched as a woman
backed a long, white pickup truck into a sign post right before a crying teen girl ran over and got in
the passenger’s seat (after flunking her own driving test?)
The time was filled with lots of driving and waiting, plus a scraped knuckle at the recycling center,
but it was still a very nice afternoon.
Wishing everyone scintillating conversations and teen bonding experiences this weekend!
"Orange is the happiest color."
— Frank Sinatra
It’s a gray and gloomy day here
but just after Zebu left for school, I saw a flash of color in the bushes.
And then to my delight, this Western Tanager landed at the feeder:
© 2010 Tracy Abell
And this is one of the Black-Headed Grosbeaks that has been visiting all week:
© 2010 Tracy Abell
It doesn’t look as if we’ll get any sunshine but all the glorious plumage has already brightened my day.
Maybe I’ll put on some Sinatra . . .
Yesterday I spent time working in my garden,
but rather than calming and rejuvenating my spirit, the work agitated.
Why?
Two words: Euonymus coloratus.
Years ago when I began landscaping the slope in my backyard,
a gardening expert recommended I plant Euonymus (yoo-on–uh-muh
s)
and some evergreen-juniper-creeping stuff to prevent soil erosion.
Good news: the soil didn’t erode.
Bad news: the groundcover ran amok.
Last fall I removed the evergreens and yesterday I cut back tons of
Euonymus that’s choking out other plants.
It made me crabby knowing that all the sweat and effort and money
I’d put into my garden was literally being strangled by those shiny green stems and leaves.
Now I’m faced with several options:
a) cut back the Euonymus each and every year with the knowledge the roots will grow thicker
b) dig out the deeply rooted and pervasive Euonymus with the knowledge I’ll destroy other plants in the process
c) avert my gaze
All this got me thinking about writing, of course.
I just finished a major revision in which I killed off a character,
deleted an entire plot line, heavily revised two-thirds of the book,
and completely rewrote the last third.
I’m not afraid of hard work.
But I’ve realized that while I love gardening, I prefer it on a low maintenance level.
I like to putter around, but even more I enjoy sitting on my patio,
admiring the flowers. Watching the butterflies and listening to birds.
Writing novels.
Moral of this story?
I’m keeping my day job.
Tracy Abell 