Sunny Sunday?

I read that Stephen King writes every day of the year. Even holidays. Hm. How does he keep his balance? Of course, when I read that I decided I should be writing every day, too, just to keep up with my characters. And I believe I'm a full-fledged workaholic. DH agrees. My mother agrees. And my dad, another workaholic says, "I know what you're saying."

Perhaps the issue is more of balance rather than writing 365 days a year. I just don't know how to work everything in and get every necessary task completed each day. Balance...body, mind and soul...yoga. I should start doing yoga again. Since I have just made a major life altering decision to lose weight...60 pounds...I have to have a plan to lose by. In addition to the 60 pounds of body weight I want to lose, I also want to lose the negative self-talk that says I can't complete my novels and sell them. I want to lose the toxic people in my life who run me down, don't believe in me, and tell me I'm a failure by not supporting and encouraging me the way I support and encourage them. Maybe I don't want to lose the people...I just want to lose their negative attitudes that I perceive.

So, this is the first day of a new week. A new day. And I can try again from this new beginning.

Oh, the other thing I've been pondering. I hate it when I have to admit I've started yet another novel. Sounds like I can't finish anything. Then I hear an author say, "I wrote five, six, ten, twelve novels before the first one that sold." I can relate to that. I have a dozen novel manuscripts here in various stages of completion. But I get to a point where I don't know where they are going. Then I set them aside and start something new.

I think it's a learning process. Each time I start a story, I manage to write closer to the end of it. I had never tried the NaNoWriMo because I didn't think I could commit to writing 50K words. So, in 2006 I decided I wanted to try it. But I tested it first. I wrote 60K words in October. Whoo-hoo! I COULD do it! So when Nov. 1 rolled around, I was ready to commit to 50K for NaNo. AND I DID IT!

I have spent the time since January working on a novel I started several years ago. I've been ignoring it for two or three days. And I started another story. But this one is different. I can see the beginning, the middle and the end of the story. I know where it started, I know where it has to go and I know where it's going to end! FanTAStic! I am learning through the process.

I read an autobiography to review it, Beyond Dancing by Anita Bloom Ornoff. It will go live at my bellaonline site, Senior Living, on Monday. (www.bellaonline.com/articles/art50029.asp) Nita published her book in late 2003 when she was 83 years young. She's getting ready to start writing her next book...her life before the WAAC. (I guess you'll have to read the review and/or the article about her (www.bellaonline.com/articles/art50069.asp) to find out what that is.

Now I am reading another book to review, and I'm going to interview the author, as well. This one is "Shadow of the Cross" by Carolyn Garriott. Stay tuned. I'll post the links to those articles, too. Carolyn's book was released in 2006. This is her first book, I believe, and she is 70 years young.

I guess there's hope for me since I'm what Nita termed, "still a baby" at age 53...er...Purple 3. Hm. I guess I'm getting used to the big 5-0 decade.

Another week's end

The weeks are flying fast. One more week in March. One more week in the first quarter of 2007. Whew! Things need to slow down a bit.

When I was working at Salem News, Bob said, "We've got it all wrong. We should be adults at the beginning and work our way to being kids because young people don't know how to properly use the time they have!"

Well, it's paraphrased a bit. That was at least 10 years ago.

It's been a week and a half. Actually, it's been a 2007! With no changes in sight. I guess when one has a larger family there is always something going on. As mom of four daughters, now all grown up, two with children of their own, there is always going to be something going on. So I have to figure out my priorities at this particular stage of my life.

Writing has to be high up there. I have to write. I want to be published. I want to write 100 novels before I die. But with all the interruptions, I'm not so sure how realistic that's going to be for me.

I said to Dad, "I'm a workaholic." I made a point of looking at him because he has been a workaholic for decades. "I don't want to be a workaholic!"

Mom said, "You are a workaholic. You always set set your expectations too high, you can't reach them, then you beat up on yourself because you don't reach them."

She had a point. A valid point. A VERY valid point. She was absolutely correct. Right on the money.

"Moi?"

There's an ad in the paper. A newspaper wants a reporter. I must have been psychic this morning. I picked up the paper and thought, "I should see if they're looking for a reporter and apply." There, when I opened the paper to the classifieds, was their ad. I didn't even have to read it. I recognized the box, the standard ad all the newspapers run when they're looking for reporters.

But there's another issue. I am planning on returning to college in the fall to complete my bachelor's degree. I am one hour from senior standing. I can graduate in a year to a year and a half. Which do I do? I have to have a car to be able to get back and forth to school. I need a job to have the money to buy the car. I can't work full time, go to school full time and have time for my family all at the same time. ssssssssssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

And what about writing?!

Use the time I have. Take every opportunity I have and can realistically apply. OK. Time to take a shower, dress and get to Beth's to babysit my darling granddaughter who will be 3 months old on Tuesday.

Today's writing challenge

I have an appointment at FRC at 10:30. Take a few pictures. Talk to a few teens. Write an article to send to the newspapers. I can do that.

I have to finish the book review and interview article with Anita Bloom Ornoff and send them off for accuracy, then put them on the web. I can do that.

I have a little research to do for some teen pregnancy prevention work I'll be doing for FRC in April and May. I can do that.

I have to visit my parents today because I haven't been there for several days. I can do that.

And I have to work on Saved by Grace today. I'm working on chapter 23 of 20. Yeah. It's a little longer than I had anticipated, but I'm flexible. I can do this.

And I should throw something in the slow cooker (it's a Hamilton Beach, not a Crock Pot and I love it! It's brand-spanking new!) so I won't have to stop what I'm doing and go to the kitchen to cook. Well, that's my theory, anyway.

I also have to check all of my blogs and my BellaOnline site to make sure I'm not missing anything.

And my house...there is no little genie taking up my slack. So I'll have to find a few minutes for some housework somewhere. But the day is still young. It's only 9 a.m.

Writing anything

I've been writing today, but not on the novel. Sunday I worked on BellaOnline articles. Yesterday I worked on getting my blogs updated and ready for a blog tour for Joyce Anthony's new release, Storm. I will be posting an interview with her right here at Novel or Bust on April 21.

I got started by offering to write a review of Anita Bloom Ornoff's book Beyond Dancing. Anita is 85 years young and lives with her husband of 46 years, Hal, in Central Florida. She was permanently paralyzed at age 19. I'm working on the review and the interview which will be posted at BellaOnline and the review at Bella and Amazon and all of it right here at Novel or Bust. Nita's book is a memoir, though, not a novel.

So, I will resume working on my novel tonight for awhile, as I did Sunday evening. A little writing is better than no writing at all.

And there are several other articles I need to write for Family Recovery Center. And there is WomanSongs that needs to be updated...so sadly neglected for SO long.

New beginnings...again

Novel or bust...I set up this blog as my writer's blog when I joined a writing challenge that would--in theory--help me get my novel written. I was never quite sure whether the challenge was going by plan or just hit and miss by the facilitator. She was there, and then she wasn't. I know from experience that life with a family interferes in a woman's plans, so I'm not being critical, bless that woman's heart!

When the challenge ended, I didn't have the novel finished. I have a dozen of them in various states of completion. I took one of them, though, and decided I'm not working on another piece of fiction until this one is complete. I'm working on Chapter 23 of 20. Yeah. Well, having a plan is good. Being flexible is--ha!--gooder. Hehehe. My word count is right around 67,000 of 85,000.

DH says I don't have a sense of humor and I over-react to everything he says. Well, we never see ourselves as others see us. I delivered my list of reasons why I don't have a sense of humor, but if he's willing to work on his attitude, I'll work on mine, too, but we won't have any double standards.

But I'm still not talking to him about my work. One day, when one of our daughters was right there in the room with us, he said he gave up on my writing anything a long time ago. Our daughter couldn't believe he said that to me. The kids probably would have thought I made it up if she hadn't been there to hear it. So, I don't talk about my writing with him. I don't talk about my dreams with him. We just don't talk much because the only thing we have in common is our children. A lot of couples reach this point in their relationship with two choices: 1.) Jump ship. 2.) Work on the relationship.

And it all affects a writer and the writer's writing. Relationship status affects what a writer writes. It does.

(c)2007 Cathy Brownfield

November Daze

I wrote 60,000 words, the first draft of a novel, in October, three weeks to be exact. I wanted to write a complete rough draft in October so I'd know that I could do a minimum of 50,000 words for the NaNoWriMo 2006 event. But this month has been a bear! So many things to do, so little time to do them.

And now, I'm too tired to write anything in this blog tonight.

Rainy days and daisy ways

The title means absolutely nothing. It just sounded good to this writer this morning. I woke up to rain. Actually, I could hear it under the tires of the vehicles passing our house. And when I looked at the bold red numerals on the alarm clock, 7:27 a.m., I was so sure it was much earlier. The sky was so gray. I thought I'd sleep awhile longer since it's such a gloomy morning. But the book on the night table caught my eye. No, I should be reading.

Reading is an important activity for a writer. I've read that countless times. Reading isn't important just to know what the competition is doing, but how the competition is writing. Reading is a study of each writer's process and progress, a continual growth thing. Getting better with each story one writes; figuring out how to write from the beginning to the middle to the end.

I'm just about at mid-point of this particular novel that I'm writing. If I can write one chapter a day, in 30 days I'll have a rough draft finished. It sounds ambitious. But it's something I can do. It's realistic for me. And now it's time for me to get to it. I have a full schedule today. I don't have time for procrastination this morning. Procrastination...a common ailment--or is it just a state of mind--for writers. :D

Sunny side of the street

Today was a beautiful day in our fair state. The sun shone, the sky was blue, a stark contrast to the autumn leaves of red, yellow and orange. It reminded me of a photograph I took about seven years ago. Seven...that is a symbol of completeness. Interesting thought. Here I am seven years after leaving my full time newspaper editor's position. Seven years of learning, stretching and growing. Seven years of finishing some things I started--like raising children. Seven years of learning my craft of writing...a long haul for DH who thinks I'm never going to get my work published. Of course, he still thinks there is "just" one novel, even when he comes into my office and sees the shelves lined with folders, the piles of notebooks and papers, all works in progress for one project or another.

Am I complete? Hm. Another interesting question. I had an enlightenment yesterday, an epiphany, as I was working on my novel. Some truths made themselves known to me and I have to admit, I was taken by surprise. I don't know why I didn't see these things before. I mean, they were right there in front of me all the time! But I didn't see them, I guess, until the proper time. Interesting.

So, I am ready to begin writing chapters 13, 14, and 15 of a 33-chapter novel. I decided the number of chapters this morning. How many chapters, I asked myself, will it take to tell this story: beginning (introducing problems), middle (defining problems), and end (resolving problems). Well, how many lines are there on this piece of paper at the back of my notebook? 33. Well, that means chapters 1-11 for the beginning, chapters 12-22 for the middle and chapters 23-33 for the end. I began to make plotting notes to myself so I can keep control of my story as the rough draft is written from beginning, through the middle, to the end. It sounds simple, but again, until the time is right, it just doesn't make sense or fall into place. Could I have learned it faster, sooner, in my younger years? Or was I on my way when I decided to take that first newspaper job? Did I hamper my own growth as a writer by working that 24/7/365 job?

I guess that's a moot point and doesn't really matter since I can't go back and change a thing. But I can begin from here because I know more about my craft. I may have more to learn, but I will take what I know at this moment and move forward.

My mom and I sat on the patio all afternoon with our crochet hooks. We talked and giggled and laughed out loud, enjoying the sunshine, the blue skies, the companionship, the tea, the crocheting. I can't remember when I last did that. But I know we make time for the people and things that mean something to us. Mom. Dad. Sonny. My children. My grandchildren. My marriage. My faith. My writing. All are meaningful to me, but are not always in the same order.

I am only now at my midlife mark. I have another half of a life to live and learn and love and write.

Inspiration

I posted to one of my favorite writing groups today. What is your inspiration, given that Steinbeck--or was it Hemingway?--said that a writer can't be married to his/her inspiration?The writer's mate is the one who keeps the writer's feet on the ground. The passion of a writer's life keeps them writing, creating.

I've been thinking about that some, of late. Does a soulmate have to be the person you love and to whom you are married? Or can you have soulmates who share common interests with you? I don't know.

Does my mate keep my feet on the ground? Oh, yes. Is he my soulmate? As far as my children are concerned, yes. As far as my writing is concerned? Oh, no. He isn't interested in my writing at all. His interests end where the incoming checks are concerned, and he's not seen a lot of that.

My passion? Now, that's something I won't divulge. I have one. And when I think of that passion, my creative juices start flowing and I write well.

What is "passion"? Mr. Webster, if you please?

PASSION: n. 1. orig., a) suffering or agony, as of a martyr b) an account of this. 2 a) any of the Gospel narratives of Jesus' Passion and and of accompanying events. b) an artistic work, as an oratorio or a play, based on these narratives 3. a) any one of the emotions, as hate, grief, love, fear, joy, etc. b) [pl] all such emotions collectively; 4. extreme, compelling emotion; intense emotional drive or excitement; specif., a.) great anger, rage; fury b.) enthusiasm or fondness [a passion for music] c) strong love or affection d) sexual drive or desire; lust 5. the object of any strong desire or fondness 6 [Obs] the condition of being acted upon, esp. by outside influences...

SYN: passion usually implies a strong emotion that has an overpowering or compelling effect.

Is a writer's passion something with guilt attached because the writer's passion is being spent somewhere beyond the people (s)he loves? Can a mate be jealous of the writer's passion? Is that why so many famous writers marry and divorce? Is that why those of us who are writers who set aside our writing for the people we love are less famous? Because we prioritize differently, family first?

What is regret? Not realizing our full potential, our dreams, because we spent a lifetime living for those we love instead of living our lives for ourselves. Is that selfishness? I didn't postulate that there is no room for compassion. Or perhaps my problem is that I've only just been able to break the apron strings that held my children to me and I no longer feel guilty about writing or spending time with the passions of my mind that urge on my desires to write and write and write. And the final question: am I making any sense?

Jump start

It was one of those moments when I had to make a decision. It seems like lately (the last six months at least) I've been a big disappointment to folks. Commitment became failure because I couldn't honor the promises (commitments) I had made. One of the lessons I learned as a child was that when you make a promise, you keep it, no matter what you have to do. You never break your promises, your word.

Well, when circumstances say, "You don't have the money to do that," "You don't have the transportation to get there," "You have another priority that weighs heavier on you," well, you just...disappoint people.

So I was at another of those junctures. My friend needed to travel to Maine to do some research for her book. She couldn't go alone. I said, OK, we could go. Then reality hit. I wasn't going to have the money to go. I told her, I can't do it. I won't have the money. Then we talked. She really wanted to go. I knew I was letting her down bigtime. "OK. How much money do you think I'll need? I'll try to come up with it." Even as I was saying the words, I knew it was going to be some kind of challenge to make it all work.

Could I afford the trip? No. Was DH upset about me going on this trip? Yes. Did we talk it over and work it out, DH and I? Yes. Can I afford the trip? No. But I made a promise. My friend is always there for me. Can I do less for her? We WILL be making a trip to Maine before winter. We have to. SHE has to be there.

Maybe being away from my desk, my home, my family, for a week will be beneficial for my creativity. I received a rejection from a magazine I am trying to crack. It's not an easy one to get into. But they pay well, $1,800 for 1,000 words. There was an editor's handwritten message for me. Now, editors don't usually write handwritten messages unless the author has made some sort of impression. So, my goal while I'm gone is to 1.) Write a 1,000 word story to submit when I return and 2.) Write 5,000 words each day on this novel I'm toting around. Can I do it?

Well, we shall see, won't we?

Direction

Sometimes I'm like a kid in a candy store. There are so many things to do, to try, to go, to write. And I get slowed down because I stop to dawdle awhile and when I look at the clock I know I need to get moving. But exploring the world around me is...sigh...what I do, perhaps too much.

My friend, Linda Della Donna, still grieves for her late husband. I worried about her for awhile. Anyone who has done e-mail for awhile knows that without the cues of eye contact, facial expression, body language, voice inflections, any of us will misinterpret anything that is said. I needn't have worried about Linda. She was going through the steps of the grieving process...an individualized journey, no two the same because no two humans are the same.

Linda has a blog, Mourning Joy, that she writes for widows. It reflects a writing talent that warms the heart, joins us at the heart. She is focused. She has found her niche. She knows her topic. She has a target audience.

I asked her if I can link to her blog. She hasn't answered yet. My request got me to thinking...What is it that I should be focusing on? Where is my niche? What is my topic? Who is my target audience? I'm a writer. What should I be writing?

I am working on yet another project...a local business idea that I might want to start. I plan to spend the afternoon working on one of my novels, WG. (Titles are not copyrightable so I won't mention the entire title for this one that has turned into a trilogy.) If I work diligently, I think I can have all three written by Jan. 1, 2007. But if I stay true to form or get real lucky, I might have them finished by June 2007.

I've made a decision. I'm overcoming my email addiction. If I don't use my time writing e-mail I might actually reach my writing goals. So, I'm going to go work on those questions and find my answers. How about you? I'm going to write what I need to write. How about you? I'm going to get focused, find my niche, my topic, my audience. I'm going to write, write, write...

James A. Michener

Tuesday night I sat down in the living room. On the bookshelf immediately behind me was James A. Michener's Writer's Handbook. I've had that book for a LONG time. I took it down and inside the cover was one of my favorite writing tablets...college ruled, no margins. I can't even FIND that kind of writing paper any more. It was there, though, ready for note-taking.

So today I began to work on my novel again, with Michener's advice still fresh in my mind. There's something new to learn every time you read something. It seems to take a new spin each time, like when you read the Bible. Whatever state of mind you're in, you notice something new that you didn't see before.

Michener died nine years ago in October at age 90. But his work is the kind of work that will live for generations, I think.

I'm feeling...I can't define how I'm feeling. I applied for a job 10 days or so ago. The ad is no longer in the newspaper, and I haven't received any telephone calls asking me to come in for an interview. I'm thinking that I don't have to worry about getting any calls. I'm thinking I'm probably supposed to be doing something else. Like writing.

But friends on a writers' list are talking about traditional vs. POD publishing. Both are discouraging to me today. I mean, how likely is it that I'm going to send in the first manuscript and the editor is gonna say, "Eurika! We gotta sign this marvelous talent!" Well, I guess it COULD happen, but is it likely? Does that sound like I don't believe in my writing abilities? No. It's me trying to be realistic.

Well, if I can't dance, I guess I'd better just keep writing. My current WIP is 30,000 words.

Take responsibility

Mom said to me, "You can't have the same expectations for everyone else that you have for yourself." Good advice.

Mom said to me, "Everyone isn't as capable as you are, so don't try to measure them by your abilities." Makes sense.

Mom said to me, "You never know who is watching you to see what's OK for you to do so they will do the same things." Wow. That piled on a goodly amount of responsibility to my young shoulders. Being the type of person I am (does birth order have anything to do with it?) I took those words VERY seriously. Yep. I'm the first born and feel like I'm responsible for everyone.

Mom said to me, "You can't carry the whole world on your shoulders." Um, that sounded like a contradiction to all of the above to a firstborn child who was growing up in a challenging world during the 50s and 60s.

Then when I grew up and had some years on me I asked some questions.

Mom said to me, "Why do you ask so many questions? Can't you just accept that some things are?

There has always been a driving need to know things, I guess. I stopped asking so many questions. I became more introverted, more observant, collecting data from Experience, which Mom said was the best teacher. Rather than ask questions, I dug and dug, and watched and listened and read and learned the answers.

Mom said to me, "When you do it yourself you remember it longer."

Mom also said to me, "If you want it done right, do it yourself because nobody else is going to do it the way you want it done."

As adults, Mom and I have talked numerous times about some of the Mom-isms I remember and how I interpreted them, often not in the ways that she meant them.

"I didn't know that's how you took that! That wasn't what I meant! You never know how a child will interpret something that you say."

But I must be a responsible individual because these days my mother says to me, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

My mother says to me, "You are the best daughter anyone could ask for."

My mother says to me, "I love you very much."

But maybe I take TOO much responsibility, jumping into the frey when someone I care about is in over their heads. I've been interpreting that as 'teamwork.' What about my own responsibilities? Do I shirk them to one side while I take care of someone else's business? But do they do the same for me? Are my priorities correct? Can you be TOO responsible?

Perhaps it's time for me to focus on my own responsibilities--like writing and my house--and let everyone else around me do the same. Where does one draw the line? Oh, this isn't art class? Artists don't draw straight lines? There are curves in art and curves in life? How does one get and stay focused? How does this apply to writing? Conflict. Observation. Emotion. Focus...

Submit

Mom said, "I don't know why you haven't been widely published by now."
"Well," I answered, "they tell me you have to submit to sell."
"Oh."
So, yesterday I mailed a short story to a nationally circulated woman's magazine. The writer guidelines say four months for reply. Of course, my hope is that they will open it, read it and say, "Hey, this is great. Can we send you a contract for the sale of this piece? And we'll send you a check straight a way!"
When I returned from the post office I reached into my pile for another project. Something longer. A novel of about 24,000 words. About 1/3 done. Seems like a good idea. Well, I need to work on some short pieces, too, to get more manuscripts circulating out there. I nearly asked DH how many hours a day he thinks I should be writing. Then I stopped and thought, "What?"
I do have a tendency to spend way too much time with my computer, hidden away in my office. But I love writing. I can hardly think of anything else sometimes. Is writing obsessive?

short stories?

Why is it that every short story I write sounds like it really should be a long story?

I've been writing flash fiction. Someone told me (Dej) that I had a good flash fiction piece awhile back. I looked for some flash fiction markets and guess what? I found them. They are out there. $20 or $60 or $100, seems like a good start to me. I'm working my way to having 50 manuscripts circulating at all times so I can watch for the checks to start rolling in and keep coming.

So, what are you writing today?

Melancholy

UUUGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!! Let me get it out of my system for a minute.

My first impulse is to just forgetaboutit. My second is to sit and bawl my eyes out. But my ultimate is to be realistic. Why do I want to forget it or sit and cry? Especially when I know that the sun is still going to rise again tomorrow. There are always going to be problems. And one way or another things will all work out, and everything will come out with the wash.

SIGH!

Ah, the writer's life. If there weren't crises and problems and crazy people and all those idiots out in the world that don't have brain one, what would a writer have to pen about? So, I won't complain. Not today. Well, I'll try not to complain much.

What am I writing? My Sunday article is finished. Just waiting for approval. When I talked to Mary Ann today she said, "I want to tell you, before we get started. There is a 76-year-old woman who comes to see me. She's the sweetest thing. She said you saved her life with the articles that you wrote about depression. She didn't realize she had a problem until she read my articles. She has said a number of times, Cathy Brownfield saved my life. So what you're doing is working. It's helping people."

I was stunned speechless. It chokes me up to think about it. I hate to sound cliche but it truly did humble me. Something I did helped someone else. I've been pretty hard on myself of late. And it all proves that "just one person" can do something that will make a difference somewhere along the line.

So, I guess I'll keep writing...and building my platform. Do you know about platforming? Did I write about that in an earlier entry or was that somewhere else. I talk about writing rather a lot with writing friends.

Platforming is getting your name out there, however you can--articles, essays, public speaking, community service...Get people interested in you and they'll read what you write and when you publish a book they will buy it. "Build it and they will come."

So what on earth have I been waiting for? Well, I've been waiting for all the crises and problems to go away. That's not going to happen. I've been waiting for perfect moments to write. There are no perfect moments. There is only THIS moment. And if you are a writer and you are reading this thinking, "She's talking about ME!", well, what are you doing there sitting reading this? Get busy writing! I'll make it easier for ya. Let's BOTH get busy writing.

Cathy

Life path fraught with obstacles--or challenges

Man plans, and God laughs.
My mom insists that God has a sense of humor. I surely hope so. It seems like there's ALWAYS something to deal with. I hope I'm passing the test!

Writing...OK. I have to generate faster income with my fiction. So, I sat down to read Kathryn Lay's book, "The Organized Writer is a Selling Writer." She said she has no less than 50 manuscripts circulating at any time. So, I gathered a slew of writer guidelines from magazines that publish fiction. I printed out (from the Works Spreadsheet) a calendar for each of the months July through December. I noted my regular writing work for FRC on Mondays. I decided which market I wanted to write for first and noted the deadline for the piece...and got to work on the submission. I didn't work on anything else until that one was finished.

I have noted various markets, my self-imposed deadline, and when I finish a piece I give it a red note on the date it is finished.

I was cruising along nicely when Life entered the picture. My parents needed me. My children needed me. OK. My pattern was broken, and all needs were legitimate. And I feel like I'm always going to write, but my family is always going to take priority. Does that mean I can't write for a living?!

I sat on the swing on the patio the other day. And it occurred to me that it might be time to finish the novel I've ignored for the better part of seven years. Seems like I know the conclusion of the story now. But first, short fiction that will bring me some income to pay for the trip I'm taking to Maine in the autumn of the year.

There's no time like the present.

Hatching a plan

I get very frustrated some days. I want to write my novels. But I need to generate income. This morning I remembered a writing plan my friend, the late Bea Sheftel, came up with. Unfortunately her 'plan' is in my deceased PC. But the essence of the plan is still in my brain. Or is it just my own thinking that's motivating me this morning?

I know my writing 'voice.' So I'm looking for markets that use 'my voice/style.' And I'm thinking, "How much money do I need to bring in each month?" This monthly market pays $100-$400 for fiction. And this one pays $1,200 or more for each romance short story or mystery short story. That's not a shabby start. IF I can crack the markets.

So what am I waiting for? I'm not exactly waiting. I think it's mind set. Is my mind set for success or failure? Is it called writer's block? Sounds an awfully lot like Stephen King's character, Mike, in Bag of Bones. Have you read that one? When I sit down with pen and paper do I think, "I can do this," or do I think, "This is stupid and nobody is gonna want to read it?" Self-fulfilling prophecy. I think there's something to it.

A LOT of work

It's nearly midnight. I have had my behind in my chair at my desk in front of my computer for more than half of the day today...I mean more than half of a 24-hour period. At one point I stopped to think about how I was at the computer, then in the chair beside the window with paper and pencil to work out writing issues, back at the computer, over to the loveseat with paper and pencil again, to work out more writing issues. I even went so far as to put a note on the door, "Do not interrupt creative process except in case of an emergency." I shut the door and closed myself in this room.

Why am I doing this to myself? It's called a deadline. I have to have my revisions done by tomorrow for my friend and editor so the story can be submitted by Friday.

How many times did I think, "I can walk away from this for the day. It's past 5 p.m." Or, "Molly is never going to know if I don't work on this." Only Molly would know because I would never make the deadline. And then she would think I am not serious about writing.

So, I kept my nose to the grindstone all day. Now the house is still. The dogs have been out. Everyone else in the house has gone to bed and shut off their lights. And here I am, still at the computer, almost finished with those revisions. And grateful to have someone to make me be accountable. Yes!

Thinking it through

I've had some difficulty thinking stories through before I write them. It always seems to work better when I apply seat to chair, fingers to keyboard or pen to paper and write. Write it all the way through. Then go back and make sense of what I've written.

So, I wrote this 12,000-word story thinking it'd be a simple thing to do. Take me a few days, no longer than a week. I mean, it's not like I haven't written stories before AND SOLD THEM. But here I am, three months later, still wrestling with this story like Jacob wrestling with God from dusk to dawn.

Molly asked, "How can we help?"

"I can't think of a thing," I wrote back, "unless you want to read this story for me and see if it makes sense to someone besides me."

"Send it to me!" she answered. So, I did.

The part about her initial comments to me that got my attention was: "profound tale of faith."

Whoa! Hold on! Back up! Someone else was seeing just exactly what I was writing! How exciting! And when she said, "Hold the gratitude. Before we're done with it you may want to punch me in the nose!" well, I was on Cloud Nine, almost. :) I am SO excited to have a knowledgeable writing friend who will give me some guidance, be my sounding board, help me toward my goals. Punch her in the nose? Oh, no. Uh-uh. Not when I'm getting a learning experience of a lifetime. I have alligator skin in the criticism respects.

This morning I've studied my Bible a bit.

"The Lord God took man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the Lord God commanded the man, "You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.

"The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."

Faith is grace. And everyone needs both.

Cause and effect...I took my cup of tea, notebook and pen to sit beside the window. It overlooks our backyard and the old, oak tree there. I listed causes and effects for this world, this humanity that I'm a part of. It is a fitting tool of procrastination for the day. Or is it procrastination? Now I will sit down with Sam's story and determine the causes and effects of his story so that it will be depicted accurately and clearly.

Virginia Woolf, in A Room of One's Own, said that women should write as women, free from the worries of the day. I have the room of my own. Just moved to a new one twice the size of the one I've been in for the past five years. It's comfortable here, and now that the children are grown, I am less interrupted when I write these days.

But still, I need to think through the stories to get them in perspective, filled with the right emotions and dialogues and settings and motivations. My biggest fear is that when I've done editing it, I'll have purified it too much. God bless Molly!

(c)2006 Cathy Brownfield