We'll Have To Make Do

I came across this place. I thought of us and our Wapiti Room. And how it is not this place. Ah, well. *sigh*

CheerReader

Just a post to cheer on my favorite Nanowrimo writers!

What do we eat? What do we eat?
Novel meat! Novel Meat!
How do we like it? How do we like it?
Raw Raw Raw!

Two words, Four words, Six words, and counting!
All for Fifty-thousand, Continue Writing!

Go Nano go Nano go Nano go! Go Nano go Nano go Nano GO!
Enter to the left, Tab to the right,
Open up your laptop and Write Write Write!

Cookies, Cookies, Cookies and Cream
What is wrong with the plot and theme?
Nothing, Nothing, Nothing at all...
Just push push push on through that wall!

N-A-N-O-W-R-I, we ain't got no alibi, We're writing, hey-hey, we're writing!
N-A-N-O-W-R-I, lack of grammar makes us cry, We're writing, hey-hey, we're writing!

Woooohooo! Yea! Clap clap!
Okay, that's enough. Just for the record, I was NEVER a cheerleader.
GO FRIENDZY!

Learning To Treasure The Joy

Frustration is something I experience regularly in my life. Sometimes, specific events or people may add to those feelings, either on purpose or innocently. Over the years, I’ve played the juggler, precariously balancing the duties that have fallen to me and struggling to keep all of the balls in motion. I’ll admit, that many of those balls are of my own making, because of choices I’ve made.

Most frustrating, is the tendency of my duties to come before my passion. The need to write doesn’t complain if it doesn’t have clean socks. The muse never asks “what’s for dinner?” My characters rarely have voices louder than the ringing phone. And yet, that part of my soul demands to be expressed. The result of ignoring my voice manifests itself in depression, headaches, and other health problems.

I must write.

I came across a quote from Ernest Hemingway yesterday that has helped me put my writing life in perspective. Maybe I’m not the first frustrated writer.

“In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and know I had to put it to the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well-oiled in the closet, but unused.” 

So, with that in mind, I plan to welcome things that dull and blunt the instrument I write with. Posted here are the first lines of a novel I’m writing for Nanowrimo 2009. I normally write happy-ever-after books. This isn’t one of those, but I feel compelled to sharpen the rough blade caused by a horrific experience I had last December. I welcome any comments and apologize in advance for putting a damper on your mood.

From nice, by Carla Parsons

The man had been asleep in his chair for a long time. Longer than any other time. Maybe this was it. The day he’d feared.

He was so still, but then a bottle of vodka mixed with cranberry juice can do that. Make a person still, that is.

The boy leaned over him, listening for any slight sound. Air. Food gurgling. He tried to remember if the man had eaten. The plate next to his recliner was food encrusted.

But then he had been still a long time. Too long.

I can only take so much of that whetstone in a day, so I’m off to dull the instrument, and in the process, fill my pitcher. And having known the sorrow, I’m learning to treasure the joy.

Post by Carla P.

Move Down The List

I thought this was a good article on those nasty letters that hurt us so!
A Book Inside

Go for it.

I am a guest blogger!  Check out my recent post from Krista Lynne Jensen at LDS Publisher. I'm so excited!!!
Thank you, LDS Publisher.

Looking for some of this?

Click here for an excellent post on making time to write. It's short, so it won't take up too much of the good stuff (time, that is).

Let me know what you think girls...
A Brief description of “The Watchers of Sionon.”
Sionon is a dying planet. Aaronia, the daughter of the king, sees a flaming orb exploding on the cliffs of Yava. She feels this to be of great portent, perhaps a sign?
Jared Adams, science officer of the space ship Wayfarer, is the sole survivor of the crash which Aaronia sees. He is amazed when she and her Uncle show up at the crash sight. This planet was believed to be uninhabited.
Aaronia and her Uncle take him back to their summer camp to meet her father, King Neri. Because of his technology, Jared is thought to be a sort of devil and is imprisoned. All that saves him from death is Aaronia. She chooses Jared as her husband, thus forcing the king to reconsider. The king, through revelation, then realizes that Jared is the answer to prophesy. Jared is the one, the great Yava, the descendant of “he who was left behind,” who will save the people.
It turns out that the Watchers are the descendants of Enoch who is mentioned in the Bible, the prophet who with his entire city was taken from the earth. They look for this Yava, who they now believe Jared to be, to return them to the first garden.
Jared is given a place in the community and a seat on the council. He and Aaronia marry and make their home in the House of the Ancients which was reserved for the arrival of Yava nearly a thousand years earlier. These “Houses” are immense chambers, deep underground, which are where the people survive the extreme dry and cold of winter and why the people were never detected on this planet before.
Now, through the technology that nearly got him killed, Jared improves the conditions on Sionon, postponing starvation. Time is against them however as each year the planet dries up and no rescue arrives. The people still look to Jared to deliver them but how can he? He is just as much trapped on this dying planet as they are. He has a good life now but how long will they last?
His wife Aaronia dies in the thirteen year plague along with their smallest daughter and her father the King. Jared is dismayed to realize that he is next in line to be king. Not only that, but he is now required to find another wife. He meets that requirement in an unexpected way as he learns his new calling as King and Chief Watcher of Sion.
As he, his remaining children and his new wife return to the Ancient house, his daughter Sarah, who has her mother’s gift, dreams of a ship coming in the spring. Will another ship finally come as the circle of portents predict? Will Jared be able to deliver the Watchers?
(Read the continuing books of the trilogy to see how these prophecies are fulfilled.)