Back from a ski weekend Kim style LOL! What is Kim Style you ask? It’s a little like Murphy’s Law meets Clark Griswald. *snort*
The hubby has been doing some major jet-setting for work and his time zones have jumped from Vancover to Hong Kong rather quickly. So, Friday when he got home, packed his bag and hopped into the car for a three hour drive to Vermont–I understood why he was a little quiet. Okay–I didn’t, but I thought I did. I assumed the poor guy was exhausted. (BTW he planned the trip LOL!) But when Murphy and Clark hang out, and they usually do at my house, interesting stuff happens. Before we even arrive at our destination, we were one man down to the flu. Or maybe it was jetlagitis. But whatever the case, the hubby was down for the count for the first 24 hours–fever and all. Boo! Which of course left us all sad, but it also left me with three kids under the age of twelve, skiing for the first time this season in a new and unfamiliar location. And we’re kind of newbies at this. This was basically our 4th time as snow monkeys (bunnies really isn’t the right word.)
Oh, the stories I could tell. Like the 7yo taking off his skis to slide down a rather steep section on his butt and then our inability to get them back on, so he just said he’d run down instead. Down a mountain, with poles flying behind him, in ski boots. Oy. And the thing is he was fast. I have no idea how he did it. ROTFL! And the other two monkeys waiting for us for so long at the bottom, and then seeing a rescue crew zooming up in our direction. Yeah–it was like that. And then there was the whole–I AM A PACK MULE thing. Where, after we salvaged the day by splitting up for lessons, everyone came back so tired they couldn’t carry all their gear. Glad I don’t have a picture of that one. Grrrrrr And then there was that moment during my lesson where I was sitting at just the right, or should I say wrong angle, while getting off the ski lift and my leg (being the perfect length) got wedged between the seat and my boot and I couldn’t get it out until the snow dropped off releasing my leg. Ouch! But, despite the ski lift trying to amputate my leg–I DID NOT FALL! Ballerina balance!
But here’s the thing about Murphy and Clark–they are great memory makers. That night, when the hubby felt well enough to go to dinner with us and grab some soup, the boys and I spent the whole night telling him all our stories and we laughed until we were crying. And it was too much stinkin’ fun. And every couple hours everyone would admire the new colors that my leg was turning. And when we took the sick-one skiing today–we had more Murphy and Clark moments. And we had some amazing ones too–like the perfect view from the top of a mountain inVermont. All those moments, good or Griswaldish, we gathered them up and took them to the dinner table where we roasted s’mores and pretty much kept saying what an awesome weekend we had. Because as we writer folk know–in the end–it’s all about the stories. They are the thing that lasts.
Does anyone else have Murphy and Clark on speed dial of it just me? And I’m back home and catching up if you need something from me–I’m doing my best while simultaneously crawling back into the revision fort. *Peeks in fort to look for Murphy and Clark*
I made my self-imposed deadline of getting the first half of THE OPPOSITE OF GRAVITY off to my Beta’s last night. (Chapters 1-22)Woo hop!!!! I was doing great on time, when Scrivener decided it didn’t want to compile and convert to Word. So needless to say, the last email was sent at 11:58. *head thunk* I could have been to bed a lot earlier if it hadn’t been for technical difficulties. But I did it, which felt very important, but in order to meet that deadline, I went to bed without writing this post. Which means it isn’t brilliant and full of puppies farting rainbows and unicorns, but hopefully the manuscript is–which in the grand scheme of things is much more important.
Of course, since I’m DEEP in revision mode, all I want to do all day is revise. And today is not the easiest day for doing that. I have the rescheduled hair appointment from Wednesday’s snow day and since I look like a Yeti–we can’t miss that. I’m also going away skiing this weekend and while I love these trips, I seriously hate packing. Maybe it’s the three boy thing, but I always feel a my excitement doesn’t truly get started until I’m in the car LOL! These are all good things, but how do I keep and sustain the BOOM on for this revision when I have other things to do.
*Stolen moments–they add up. I know this because when I started writing TOUCHING THE SURFACE my boys were ages 2, 4, and 6. I had nothing but stolen moments.
*Mullet time–this is my term for writing and working in my head. I find brain farting on the computer labor intensive. Some people put their butt in their chair and work out their issues with their fingers. I’ve never really done that. My fingers are sooooo slow compared to my ability to flip things around in my head. I’ve learned that mullet time means nothing if I don’t take the stolen moments to get what’s now in my head on paper, but I’ve also learned that when I sit down to write after thinking things through, my time is a lot more productive.
*I use music. I know without a doubt that I’m in the BOOM ZONE when I can’t listen to an audiobook. And I LOVE listening to audiobooks. But when I’m in the BOOM ZONE I can only listen to one thing–my playlist for that manuscript. I might add or take away songs as the MS develops, but in essence it is the soundtrack for my mullet time which really helps me make the most of my stolen moments.
And while this has been fun, I really have a million things to do LOL! So I’ll leave you with a random song off THE OPPOSITE OF GRAVITY playlist…
How do you make the writing happen when you’re in the BOOM ZONE? And what is the Tropic of Sir Galahad? Anyone?
And that folks is how it happens. BOOM! One day I’m trucking along and–well–that’s a lie I wasn’t really trucking along–it was more like trudging. So–day after day I’m trudging along–really slogging through my revisions. Of course I do this with a little happy smile on my face. I distinctly remember making a broad statement about loving revision so much more than drafting. *head thunk* Yup I love it, yet I keep finding myself trudging and slogging and wondering why it feels like I’m trying to push a square peg through a round hole. Yeah. Just. Like. That. And I get about 200 pages into the revision (that is full of trudging and slogging) and I get really tired. Not from the writing. Mostly because I stayed up too late watching The Biggest Loser. Don’t judge me–it’s motivating. Now it’s trudging, slogging, tipping. Yawn. (And just so you know–my brain never fully shuts off during a mid-day tip, so it doesn’t really count as a nap. I call it a brain storming session, okay?) But I digress. I’m at the point where the fixes to the MS aren’t as easy as the earlier ones and I dump 3 chapters. Just like that. And in honor of all that trudging and slogging or maybe because of it–I seriously just highlight that sucker and hit cut. I know I have another copy somewhere–dear god I hope I do. I mean in an emergency my agent has it, right? Anyway, back on task. I cut those chapters because I know I need new material. And that’s a good thing, but gosh darn it, since I’m a slow reviser with a crappy memory for detail, I don’t even remember all the changes I’ve made up until this point. How do I know if I’m making this puppy behave or if he’s just going to a different corner to pee on the floor and make another mess when I’m not looking?
Are you following me? Probably not–but just pretend because that’s what I was doing while I was revising–just going through the motions. Fake it till you make it. BIC or BOC (Butt on couch. It’s softer.) I need to get my bearing so I can move forward. I need to find my puppy! So, I back it up just a chapter or two and start reading. Then suddenly…
BOOM!
I repeat. BOOM! I don’t know how else to explain it. The world shifts from black and white to color. The puzzle pieces fall into place. The baby starts sleeping through the night. I don’t know why it happens, but suddenly there’s no longer trudging or slogging. My brain is firing on all cylinders. All the lights are shining on my Christmas tree. I’m tapping into something. And I want to weep for the sheer joy of knowing that I hadn’t imagined that a place like this really does exist. I HAVE been here before! I do know how to write a damn book and make it progressively better.
That’s the only way I can describe it. It feels insane, but maybe that’s because it IS insane. The act of writing is a product of dedication, hard work, persistence and a whole bunch of other SAT words. It’s showing up when you’re trudging and slogging and not sure you’re really an author. But the magic of writing–the BOOM–that’s a very different thing. That’s something bizzare, like observing a puppy in the corner, ready to pee and then he doesn’t–instead, he farts rainbows and unicorns.
Seriously, it’s just like that.
And I’ll be honest, I don’t know how long the magic puppy farts will stay. They seem to have their own agenda, but that’s the beauty of intermittent reinforcement. Once you know the unicorns and rainbows are out there–you can’t stop sniffing puppy butts. You just trudge and slog and tip while breathing in deeply and hoping.
I could wax poetic about this for hours, but I need to wrap this up–wouldn’t if be awful if I blew all my magic on the sheer awesomeness of this post. (Come on–you know you loved it.) Okay, you loved the puppy pics–same difference. LOL! Off to revise!
PS–I only have one question. Have YOU smelled the puppy farts?
PPS–When I tip later today it was totally because I stayed up late to write this post. It has nothing to do with The Biggest Looser. Besides–I’m a winner. Just go ask the unicorns.
PS–Just want to remind you that there is still time to enter for a chance to win one of five signed copies of TOUCHING THE SURFACE for your favorite middle school or high school.
I have a new addiction and it is so much healthier than the chocolate covered potato chips from the alps.
And yes, I sampled them when I went down to take the picture. Wouldn’t you? LOL! But hey–back on task–let’s talk about my other addiction. Squee! It’s school visits. Seriously people, they make me very, very happy. I’ve mentioned before that I was a teacher and that I was ok leaving the profession because it wasn’t a perfect fit for me. But author visits–It’s like taking a salty potato chip and dipping it in your favorite chocolate. It just works. It feels really good. I get to take the best parts of me (that I brought to the table as a teacher) and combine them with the heart and soul work I’m doing as a writer. Seriously, I could go on and on ad nauseam, but vomit isn’t pretty, so I’ll stop right after I tell you about the middle school boy who asked me to sign his arm yesterday. He mumbled something about not realizing he should have gotten the book. *heart squish* The thing is, there is more than one amazing thing going on when you’re an author for young adults. You have the potential to connect thorough your book, but you also have the weird ability to connect outside of your book. When you talk to a classroom of students, there may be kids who don’t pick up the book you’ve written, but they still hear what you say. And those words might be the right words at the right time. The possibilities and the potential are endless. But I promised to stop babbling. *covers mouth with hands*
Did you really think I’d shut up? Silly you. If you are located in the Hudson Valley area, I would love to arrange a visit to your local school. If you’re interested, let a teacher or librarian know that I’m available and how to contact me.
And because not everyone is close enough for me to stop over while my kids are in school, I’m doing a TOUCHING THE SURFACE giveaway for your favorite middle school or high school. Anyone can enter and the contest details are below.
And in case you still want to chat, I was wondering if any of you have stories of influential guest speakers visiting you in school. Did they make an impact on you? Didn’t have any guest speakers or they were duds? What author would you have loved to come and speak to you?
