A Short Short Story

A trick of the light. A strong gust of wind through the branches and he's there.

The wind settles and he's gone again. 

Was he even there in the first place? 

A trick of the light. Or maybe much more. A glimpse of the truth behind the veil. A brief and fleeting moment of utter reality, wherein he has no where to hide. 

Wherein you realize—you should be the one hiding. 

But where did he go? 

Gone again with a gust of the wind. 

Perhaps just a trick of the light.

30 Day Itch

It's only four days until November. If you've been following this blog for awhile now, you probably know what that means...

It's almost time for NaNoWriMo 2012!

For those not up to date, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, and I've been participating in it (both successfully and...less so) since I first learned about it from a certain creative writing teacher back in 2007. Basically, you spend the thirty days that make up November writing like a maniac in order to reach the goal of 50,000 words in one month. It's kind of wild, a little crazy, and very fun.

But my feelings about it this year are a little different. I'm maybe a little more excited, and maybe a little more anxious. Because, if I'm being honest, aside from the rare blog post here and there, I haven't really been writing at all since I graduated in December. So this year, NaNoWriMo means a little more to me and for me.

I'm expecting several things to happen next month, and hoping for others.

I'm expecting a rocky, slow, maddening start. Because, like any other craft or skill, the longer you go without keeping your tools sharpened, the duller they are when you get back to them. I don't doubt that I have a talent for writing, but I also don't doubt that it'll take some time to dust the cobwebs off of that talent. There are bound to be a few "dark and stormy nights" those first few days, maybe even weeks.

But I'm also expecting, hoping, to be energized about writing again. Excited about interesting settings, feisty characters, unexpected plot twists. Inspired and encouraged.

I'm looking forward to reconnecting with my love of writing, and, not that I need any excuse to do it, NaNoWriMo is always a time I eagerly look toward as that extra push to just drop the insecurities and let the words flow.

And I'm also looking forward to December 1st, when I can sit back, take a breath, and be proud of what I wrote, no matter how good or bad it is, because I wrote it.

So bring it on, November. I really can't wait.

An Almost Alumni

By this time next week, I will officially be a Texas A&M University graduate.

Guys, holy cow.

I...don't even know what to do with myself. I'm this crazy mix of emotions. Predominately happy and sad. Happy because, well, it's about freaking time! Sad because I've enjoyed my time at A&M and in some ways I'm not exactly ready for it to end. And then there's the nervousness. Because in a few hours less than a week, I will be walking across the stage in front of thousands of people. And I'm really terrified that I'm going to trip.

So there's that.

But I'd say I'm mostly excited. I graduate at 9 a.m. December 17th, so I'll be getting up pretty early that day. That's okay, though—I have big, fantastic plans to drop by Starbucks before I go, so I should be caffeined-up and ready to rock the cap and gown.

And since I can't mail you, my lovely followers, my graduation announcement, I thought I'd post a picture of it.

The front!

The inside!

Ordering announcements was an adventure in and of itself. Way too many options for me to process, and way too many extras to add. And way too much money to spend. I managed to keep it right at $100, but still. Good grief. That's a lot of money for just 30 announcements. Even including the envelopes, seals, return address labels, and such. Fortunately I won't have to do this again. Unless I go to grad school. But I am choosing not to think about that yet.

All that's really left to do is order the diploma frame. And, you know, do the whole walking thing. Then I can finally stop stressing about it.

Yep, then I can just start stressing about the whole rest of my life.

But I've got plenty of time for that.

I've been spending a lot of my time thinking about graduation day, worrying about it, mulling it over. In the end, I've decided that instead of completely freaking out about the ominous "What's Next?", I'm instead going to take some time to just enjoy being done. Just being proud of what I accomplished.

Plus, Christmas is coming up. And Christmas is my favorite holiday. So I'm really intending to focus on fun, family, and happiness.

I should have a couple of new things coming up for you guys—I'll be posting some more of my writing. I've had a couple of people express interest in reading what I wrote for the Gross Out assignment in my workshop. I also plan to post what I wrote for my final, which is basically a parody of a final. So that should be fun.

Stay tuned, and as always, thanks so much for following my blog, guys!

An Evening with Stephen King

Tonight I had the wonderful privilege to attend An Evening with Stephen King—hosted by A Real Bookstore. Many of you may already know that Stephen King is basically my idol. So I'm sure you can imagine just how thrilling this was for me.

But just in case you can't, I thought I'd relive the experience here for you guys. Also, I have pictures to share.

I found out about this event last month—completely by accident. I'm ashamed to say I had no idea the wildly talented Mr. King would be in the area at all. I knew his new book (11/22/63) was coming out soon, but it never occurred to me to check and see what kind of a book tour there would be.

Turns out, it was a really small tour. I got lucky. He came to Dallas—twice. Once at the Majestic Theater, and the second time, the one I went to, at McKinney North High School.

I'm not exactly sure why A Real Bookstore picked the high school as the venue, but I'll tell you this—it was actually a really great place for this. It seated about a thousand. And rest assured, it was a full house. We were allowed in the parking lot at 4 (after school let out). Which, in this case, was great. Because since no one could park before 4, there was absolutely no rush to get there before 4. Otherwise I would have felt the need to camp out by the door as soon as the sun rose. Anyway, I got there a little past four—traffic, of course—but we only had to stand in line outside until 5. Then we were allowed in.

I have to say, it was really awesome to be able to sit and wait instead of stand and wait. Because the actual event didn't begin until 7.

I also have to say, I'm really glad I picked up my ticket the day before because the will-call line didn't move at all until we were practically being let inside.

Seating was first come, first served. Another reason I insisted on being right on time, or as close to it as I could manage. I ended up getting a pretty darn good seat, if I do say so myself. Not quite in the front row, which I would have loved. But still close to the front. And I got a free A Real Bookstore tote bag in my seat. Another plus!

My ticket! And my free bag!

I sat next to a couple of friendly people (who had also come solo), which was awesome—I had brought my iPad along, expecting to be bored out of my mind while waiting, but instead I had some very pleasant conversations and got to talk about favorite King novels, how early I started reading his work (somewhere around 5th grade), and how excited we were to be there.

While we waited, a brass trio played jazz for us. And then the McKinney High Jazz Band played some songs. They were actually really good! And I was super surprised at how fast those two hours went by. A Real Bookstore had also put together a slideshow of Stephen King trivia and fun-facts (most of which the woman next to me knew!). There was even an official Twitter hash tag for the event!

The jazz trio. :)

I was all set with not one but two cameras (and my iPhone), and had triple-checked to make sure the flash wouldn't fire—the only condition of photography; it was allowed as long as we didn't use flash. But then I discovered that the red-eye light was also not okay. I panicked a little bit, thinking I wouldn't be able to figure out how in the world to cover up the thing.

Guys, I even went so far as to put bandaids over it (which actually worked pretty well). But then I decided I'd actually look in my camera settings and...voila! I figured out how to turn it off. On my Canon. My Nikon, I'm sad to say, was not so lucky. So it stayed in my purse the whole time.

And I gotta say, my Canon did a bang-up job. It was an excellent sidekick for the evening. And a trooper. Because, believe it or not, I took a whopping 260 pictures during the event. But I learned a long time ago, take a ton of pictures—if you do, you WILL get some good ones. Better safe than sorry. That's my philosophy.

The King!

The whole thing was a blast. Stephen (yes, we're on first name basis) looked so comfortable up there on stage—he owned it. And guys, he's funny. Seriously funny. It was sort of like seeing a stand-up comedy routine. He cracked jokes, poked fun, and was all around delightful and charming. He told stories about people mistaking him for Spielberg and Coppola, and about his experiences in Dallas while he was researching 11/22/63.

If you want to know what11/22/63 is about, here's a summary.

On November 22, 1963, three shots rang out in Dallas, President Kennedy died, and the world changed. What if you could change it back? Stephen King’s heart-stoppingly dramatic new novel is about a man who travels back in time to prevent the JFK assassination—a thousand page tour de force.*

And hearing him talk about writing was a dream come true for me. As an aspiring author who can't wait to be published, I couldn't ask for advice or wisdom from a better person—especially considering King is a huge influence for me. I mean, I learned to embrace the beauty of a well-placed sentence fragment from this man. The best advice of the night, at least for me personally, was this: And I'm sad I must paraphrase, but still: "If you're someone who wants to write, you needn't worry about the business side of things. Just get your words on paper. Words on paper, words on paper. The rest will follow." Again, that's a paraphrase. But the basic idea is there.

Words on paper. Words on paper. Words on paper.

Yes, this is my new mantra.

He talked for a little while, shared stories, and was met with generous applause and laughter. Then he read a short section of his book, which was highly enjoyable. He's got a good voice to give a reading; not boring or monotone or unengaged? something like that? And the excerpt really got me excited to read the book.

During the reading.

After the reading, he did a Q&A. I wish I'd really sat down and thought of a good question to submit, because after I got in the car to head back I thought of a million I wish I'd asked. But he was such a good sport and he answered all the questions asked of him, and was genuinely appreciative of the response he got from the audience for the evening.

He also talked about some upcoming books—another in the Dark Tower series,

All in all, it lasted a little over an hour. It was the first time I'd ever seen Stephen King in "real life", I suppose you'd say. And it was great. I always worry that people I idolize will be...disappointing in reality. But Stephen is anything but a disappointment.

He is a charismatic, charming man. Brilliant. Overflowing with ideas, creativity, and he is truly passionate about writing. He loves what he does—at one point in the evening, he said doing events like this were always a little uncomfortable for him because he feels he's meant to be in a room by himself writing stories.

I love the way he puts it—he's made to write stories. Not to get published, be famous, make millions. But to write stories.

Listening to a question.

This man is such an incredible inspiration to me, and I am absolutely thrilled to have had the chance to see him in person, and in a fairly intimate setting. One thousand people is a lot, but being as close as I was, it didn't feel like a huge venue.

And I walked away with a whole new appreciation for the man who's practically always been my favorite author.

I'm sad to report that I did not get an autographed copy of the book (250 autographed copies were mixed in with the 1,000 that were handed out to us). But the woman sitting next to me did! (Congratulations!)

But that's okay, because the experience itself was the true treasure for me. And I really enjoyed sharing it with you guys!


*Excerpt from Amazon's book description.

30 Crazy Days

Happy November, folks! Halloween has come and gone, and do you know what that means? It's National Novel Writing Month again! (Or NaNoWriMo, for those of you who've heard of this before!)

What is National Novel Writing Month? Well. It's this crazy thing some of us who like to write do. It takes up the whole month of November—all 30 days. And in 30 days, we aim to write 50,000 words. A novel!

It's a lot of fun. It may sound impossible to write so much in a mere 30 days, but I'm here to tell you it IS possible! I'm a NaNo veteran and I've made it to the finish line on more than one occasion!

The idea of National Novel Writing Month is to just write your novel—don't edit, don't think too hard about it. Just let the words come. And come. And come. There's plenty of time to rewrite and change and add and take away in December. Look at it this way—you can't edit anything if you don't write anything to begin with!

Are any of you guys taking on NaNoWriMo this year? I am!

Considered it, but decided against it because you don't have a plan or plot outlined? Reconsider! I don't have a plan or plot outlined, either. And if you'd like a Writing Buddy, feel free to add me over at NaNoWriMo.org!

It's free to sign up, and there is absolutely no penalty if you don't reach 50k. There's no way to LOSE at NaNoWriMo. And even if you only write 5,000 words, that's 5,000 you didn't have before!

Interested? Head over to NaNoWriMo's website and learn more! You can also check them out on Twitter and Facebook! And be sure to stockpile lots of coffee and snacks—there will likely be late nights of writing furiously involved.

NaNoWriMo starts today, but don't worry—there's still plenty of time to get started!

So, who's joining in this year? If you are—do you have a plan? Or are you winging it like me?

Rut Vs. Groove

Have you ever wondered what exactly the difference is between a rut and a groove? I have. I figure, a groove is something comfortable, familiar, positive even—a habit or schedule you're happy with. A rut can be comfortable, definitely familiar, but the way I see it, people aren't always happy to be stuck in a rut. They've much rather get in a groove.

Or maybe that's just me.

At any rate, the past couple of weeks have found me struggling to get back in my groove and not stuck in a rut. It isn't exactly working out so far. Basically I've been reliving the day where I'm going to get the groove thing going. Only it's turning out to be more of a rut. I've been spending my days being generally unproductive, and each day I think, 'Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day I'll get out of the rut and into the groove.'

As you may have guessed, I'm definitely in more of a rut than a groove.

But at least I'm working on it, right?

I've got some free time on my hands this semester, which makes it really easy to get sucked in to kicking back on the couch and doing absolutely nothing. (Or playing video games*, if you must know.) So the challenge for me is to use my time wisely instead of wasting it. So I've been really trying to focus on writing. I want to make a real habit of it, a daily thing. And not just a sentence or to. Typing out emails and text messages just don't cut it. They aren't making me a better writer. The things that will better my writing? Writing, of course. And reading.

And honestly, I can think of way worse ways to spend my off time. I mean, I love writing. And I love reading. So really, I'm not sure what this rut I'm in is all about. Expect maybe a general laziness on my part.

But anyway.

September. How is it already September? That December graduation date is sneaking up on me—It'll be here before you know it. I'm not sure how I feel about that. But at least September is a good month. For a couple of reasons.

In just a little over a week, I'll finally be getting my Aggie Ring! (WHOOP!)

I'm super stoked for this, you guys. I mean, I'm really freaking excited. And happy. And my parents are coming, and we're all going to be excited and happy together. So there's that.

And toward the end of this month, I'll be taking a trip to Colorado with my parents. My cousin is getting married. Well, she's getting married in Hawaii. But they live in Colorado, and that's where they're having their reception. The best part? I mean, besides the visiting Colorado part? Since I only have one class this semester, I'll be able to be gone for like a week and still only miss one class day.

Excellent.

No 100s! No 100s!!!

But perhaps the most exciting development in my life right now is that Texas has finally decided to calm down on the heat wave. Why, just the other day I took a trip to Starbucks and sipped my coffee outside. OUTSIDE. A miracle. The forecast for the week down here may be full of 90s, but that's much better than the triple digit misery we'd been having!

I may be a bit premature, but I don't even care—Fall is in the air, you guys. I can feel it.

I love Fall.



*specifically, one video game. Dead Island. Which I recently acquired. And boy, I do love killing zombies... What? No, I'm not ridiculous... Okay, maybe a little ridiculous...

The Eyes and the Storm

This is a piece I'm working on for my workshop. It is actually part of a bigger idea-in-progress. I posted another part of it a while back. I haven't figured out how the two parts will go together, as far as a timeline is concerned. Currently, I think this will end up coming before the other. If you're interested in reading the companion piece, you can find it here.

_____________________________

A cold wind kicked up across the lake. The clouds came in slowly, bearing the heavy burden of rain. The sunlight winked out, smothered by the smoky gray-black thunderhead.

The surface of the lake bucked and thrashed against the wind; the last remaining boats fluttered back to dock just as the first bullets of rain struck the tormented lake.

Cal watched from his perch on the window seat as the sky spilled out its sadness, cast a deceiving dusk-dark shadow over the midday sun. 

He felt a small but firm tug on the cuff of his pant leg and he rocked back on his heels to make room for his sister, who scampered up next to him and pressed both hands and nose to the chilled pane of glass. Her hot breath teased up a ghostly fog on the glass. With one precise little finger, she turned it into a frowning face.

“Rainin,” she said.

Cal nodded and hugged his knees to his chest, crossed his legs at the ankle. “Uh-huh.”

“Guess we can’t go swimming today, huh?” Cecelia turned her big blue eyes up at him, a glimmer of hope still hidden behind her mask of responsible acceptance.

“‘Fraid not,” Cal said, and the glimmer faded. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah?” He nudged Cecelia gently with his shoulder and let a small but encouraging smile play across his lips.

Cecelia perked up, though reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe.”

Cal turned back to watch as sheets of rain cascaded down across the sky. He could see the small rowboat he built with his father teeter back and forth on the top of the water, straining against the dock line. A jagged spear of lightning fell from the sky, lit up the lake briefly, leaving an eerie stain behind Cal's eyelids. He counted the seconds, making it to three before the heavy groan of thunder came.

In truth, Cal was glad of the rain, of Cecelia not swimming. He still didn’t trust the water—not the water or the eyes it held.

The Unyielding Beast

This is a writing exercise done in class for my senior seminar, Writing as Resistance. It appears here unedited, just as I wrote it in class—only typed, of course. The way she walked us through the exercise was very broad, so I find it interesting that this is where my pen took me.

_____________________________

I could still feel the hot embers burning my nose. I thought if I opened my eyes, I'd see what I'd been so afraid of. But as my clammy hands went to my sides to steady myself, they met with the cool familiar leather of my couch and pulled me back into myself. Blinking, I looked around. The hum of the air conditioner kicked on and made me jump. I hadn't realized how heavy the silence had been.

In the corner, married to shadow, stood the grandfather clock. It towered over me as I approached it. It was cold, smooth against my fingertips, its face eyeless yet staring as seconds became minutes, and minutes hours. The sharp angles of its frame, the once white face now yellowed with age, thrust me back to that day. The funeral. The will. The clock was the only thing he'd left me, a tired reminder of how time marches on. And time runs out. It runs out for everybody.

My hands shook as I pulled back the glass, exposed the face. I wanted to go back. Again the feeling rose in me to run. To run back. I placed my finger down, a roadblock for the ever-moving second hand. It ticked, ticked, then met my finger, stubborn and unmoving. I felt it fight against me; such a small pressure, such a feeble resistance. And that's how it was the last time we spoke, he and I. His body was tired, his spirit broken, his will to fight and live was waning. That's how it was when he told me about the clock and how it only moves one way, always one way. I remembered the light in his eyes, I remembered how fast it faded and how empty he seemed once it was gone. A shell.

Only one way, he'd said.

I heard small wheels inside the clock ache and strain, but I wouldn't relent. Instead, I pushed back. Time, the unyielding beast, was forced back, the minute hand rewinding second by second, hour by hour. It weighed too much. Time bore such a heavy load.

Then, without warning, the minute hand snapped.

I thought I'd won, but the gears shifted and the jagged black claw of the second hand pushed forward. Time could not be defeated. Time could not be stopped.

Though I had pushed back the hands, though the hour the clock boasted was wrong, time itself was a bigger monster, bigger even than that massive grandfather clock with its unforgiving face and empty heart. It was the true adversary, never to be conquered.

Four Years Later

This is a non-fiction piece that I wrote for my senior seminar, Writing as Resistance. In class we read Suheir Hammad's poem, First Writing Since—the first writing she did after September 11, 2001; her reaction to it. Our written response was supposed to express a way in which we are broken.

I had the idea for this—really, the inspiration, if you want to call it that, since it's not fiction—quite some time ago. About four years ago, actually. But I shoved it aside. I knew it was worth writing, but I didn't want to write it.

Then, in 2009, it came again. The same sensation, the same realization. And I thought, "I should write this. It means something. I needs to be written."

But I couldn't. It was still too hard.

Then I started this class. The first day. The first assignment. Four years later, it was time. I don't know what to title it. I don't know what fits it yet, or if I ever will. Or if it will move anyone but me; they're my thoughts, emotions, and fears, after all.

Still, it was worth finally writing, and it's worth finally sharing. For whatever it's worth.

I don't know why, but I feel like it's important—or at least relevant—to mention that while I wrote this, I listened to "After the Storm," by Mumford & Sons, on perpetual repeat. Somehow it just evoked the right emotion in me, one that really married how I felt when I first had the urge to write this and how I needed to feel to actually write it. Either way, I feel since I listened to it while writing this piece, if you wanted companion music for it, I'd recommend that song.

_____________________________

When you’re little, there is no death. Death is just one of those things that we learn about as we go. My first experience with death that I really remember was the death of my granddad. But for some reason, his isn’t the death that broke something in me. Really, there were two deaths—both recent—that caused the break. 

The first was my grandpa’s, my mother’s dad. Strangely enough, it wasn’t his passing that caused such a change in me; it was seeing my mom. Seeing how hard it was for her. At the end of his funeral, we all rose to walk past the coffin and pay our final respects. As I stood in line behind my parents, behind my mother and her three siblings, I was struck by how small she looked. She leaned over my grandpa’s coffin—the final goodbye. As I watched, I realized that I wasn’t looking at my mother, not as I knew her. I was looking at a little girl saying goodbye to her daddy for the last time. A small, heartbroken little girl. It was a shock to me because I had never seen her like that. For some reason it hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that the loss of my grandpa was not the same as her losing her father. Though they were the same man, our sense of loss was very different.

The second death was the death of my grandmother, my dad’s mother. My whole life, I had known her as Super Granny. A great moniker for an extraordinary woman. Her death was very unexpected. Though she was in her mid-eighties, she was in good health. On one of my dad’s frequent trips to her house to check on her, he found her in bed, as if merely sleeping. Again I was shaken by the sensation that I wasn’t watching my father handle things, that I wasn’t comforting and hugging my father, but rather that I was trying to console a little boy who couldn’t quite believe that he really wouldn’t ever see his mommy again.

These two deaths caused something inside me to change, to see things differently. It was like a last veil had been lifted—the image of my parents as indestructible, the same image many children have of their parents when they’re young, gone. I began to realize that my parents are next in line, morbid as it sounds. The older generations are nearly gone. Time is, indeed, marching on—no matter how much I wish it would stop. Shortly after my grandmother’s funeral, my dad was trying to describe to me how it felt having both parents gone. Both of my parents have now lost both of their parents, and my dad described it like being orphaned. I realized then that planning, growing up, preparing—none of those things are foolproof. No matter how old you get, there are some things you’ll never be able to prepare for. 

Since these experiences and the subsequent conversations, there’s a new kind of sadness in me. Not a weeping, overwhelming sadness, but one that comes with the realization that one day I’ll lose my parents, too. No matter how old I am, I’ll be jolted back to childhood, to feeling lost and scared with no more mom or dad to turn to. And no matter when it happens, I won’t be ready for it. 

First Class

The kind people at First Class Award have done me the honor of choosing me as one of their First Class Blogger Award recipients! Pretty cool, huh?

It may sound cliché, but I am genuinely honored. When I started this blog back in 2008, I had no idea it would reach so far. Or even that I would keep it up for so long.

I started it to work on my voice as a writer, to develop my non-fiction prose. I've loved writing as long as I can remember, but I had only really written fiction; I had a diary, of course—I still journal a lot. But as far a sitting down and putting pencil to paper, it was always to create. To imagine. I wanted to stretch my legs and nurture the other side of my writing aspirations; I wanted to work on learning to use the written word to better express myself, my emotions and opinions, experiences, my fears. And I wanted to learn how to write in a way that is easy and open; a way that would give others a sense of connection, familiarity, conviviality.

It's been truly amazing to watch the community here on my blog grow so much in the past year. What started out as a small cluster of readers has become a much larger following. Yet the conversations that come from comments have continued to feel very friendly and intimate. That is always what I wanted for this blog. I have met so many wonderful, kind-hearted, and talented people here. I consider myself very lucky to have such great and fun-loving people continue to visit, read, and comment.

Thank you all for dropping by and sticking around. I'm excited to see what's in store. I look forward to what lies ahead and I can't wait to continue sharing it with you guys.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Best Laid Schemes

I don't always have things planned out. Especially not planned out really well. This semester, I did. I had everything all figured out, and a lot of plans laid out ahead of me.

But, as Robert Burns so eloquently puts it, "The best laid schemes of mice and men / Go often askew" —And indeed they do.

Very askew.

I was going to graduate in May. I was already registered for the last classes I needed here at A&M, with the exception of one. Business Math. I tried to take it here last semester and it totally ate my lunch, so I dropped it. This semester, I planned to take it online at the same place I took my last two Spanish classes; Midland College.

Which should have worked out fine. I had the go-ahead from my advisor and knew the credits would transfer. Piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

When it came time to register, I didn't have my student ID. It took me several days and even more phone calls and emails before I was finally able to get in touch with someone who would email me back. No one ever answered the phone—I left three or so voicemails—I have yet to hear back from them, even now. When I finally did find someone who could provide me with my student ID, I instantly logged on to register. Only to find that the class was full.

Maybe Midland college employs sloths.
This would explain why they can't reach the phone before it rolls to voicemail.

I went into panic mode. Without this class, I wouldn't be able to graduate in May. I started sending more emails, making more phone calls, and being just as frustrated at the lack of response I was getting. Then on Thursday, I had the good fortune to call and actually reach a person on the phone instead of an automated message. He was very helpful and gave me the email address and phone number of the professor teaching the course I needed so that I could contact him and ask if he'd be willing to take one more student. I emailed him promptly.

But by the time I heard back from him the next day (he said he was unable to force me in, and that I'd need to call the Dean), I had learned that I didn't have the pre-requisite to take Business Math at Midland College. Which I still think can't be right because I had no trouble signing up for it here—It was just the passing it here part that I couldn't do. But I had been checking back to see if the class ever opened up, and lo, and behold! It did! It was when I tried to register for it that I got a pop-up saying I couldn't.

So I made more phone calls and sent more emails, but ultimately nothing came of it. The last possible day to register came and went. And I still have not once had someone return my phone call. Any of them. I must have left about six or seven, and their message swears they'll return the call within 48 hours.

Apparently that's a flat out lie.

I turned around and tried to sign up for another Business Math class online through a different school, with slightly better luck. The advisor there was very helpful and tried very hard to get me in, but all of the people she contacted said it simply wouldn't be possible to fit me in.

So my plans? Down the drain. May graduation? Not so much.

I don't know whether I'll take the class over the summer and graduate in August or just wait until next semester and graduate in December. I'm leaning more toward December because honestly? I have things to do this summer. And I want a formal graduation—I've worked so hard to get this degree; well, to almost get it. When I do finally walk across the stage and get my diploma, I don't want it to be in a speedy end-of-summer graduation. Which is why May was ideal. But between August and December, December is closer to what I'm wanting.

I just don't know. I suppose I'm still sort of reeling from the fact that my plans went so completely awry in the first place. At first I was livid. Beyond livid. Just ask my Mom; she had to listen to my tears and my rage and my fist-shaking fury. But now I'm trying to look at it positively.

Everything happens for a reason. Ultimately it's all in God's hands anyway, so who am I to assume that everything is all wrong? In this, I'm trying to find the plus side, the benefits, the bright side. They're there, they really are. For one, I'll be able to focus more on my writing this semester. I'm taking two writing intensive courses. In just one of those, I'm expected to write a grand total of 150 manuscript pages, which is no small task. With the schedule I have this semester, I should really be able to spend good quality time on writing and revising and perfecting. And that's pretty exciting.

Also, though less importantly, I'll be able to graduate with my Aggie ring. When I was going to graduate in May, I was going to have to wait until after graduation to order it since I have to have X amount of completed hours. Not that it would kill me to wait, but as far as looking for the positive, it'll be nice to actually order and receive my ring while I'm still here in Aggieland.

I can spend more time at the career center, working with people who'll help me figure out where to go from here and what I can do with my degree. Aggies have some serious advantages when it comes to networking, so it's a huge benefit to have this at my fingertips. And considering I really don't know what I want to do after I graduate, as far as what kind of job I want to get, this is a definite bonus in having a surprise extra semester.

At least he has a plan!

Overall, I think I'm happy. Not so much that everything got mixed up and rearranged, or that things deviated so completely from my original plans. But happy that I do have a peace about it, and that I can see the silver lining.

Though it may not be my last semester here after all, I'm really looking forward to this semester. And it's always nice to start out a semester with a positive outlook—especially when so much has been altered.

This is what they call adjusting, right? Improvising? Rolling with the punches?

Oh yeah.

I got this.

If you think these cartoons are funny, you should browse the rest of Natalie Dee's site. She is the artist of these comics and I am in no way, shape, or form deserving of any credit for them. Check out her site! Hours upon hours worth of belly-laughs up for grabs!

On Writing and Willfulness

Sometimes, even though I love to write, it's hard for me to just sit down and make myself do it. And when I do finally reach the point of more or less chaining myself to my laptop and forcing my fingers to plunk out word after word, it almost feels like a chore.

It shouldn't, right? I mean, I love writing. It's what I want to do with my life, in some way or another. So why is it so hard for me sometimes?

Is it just because I'm lazy? Or is it because I'm afraid?

Sometimes I think it's both.

There are days where I sort of feel the urge to write, but I'm distracted. I keep thinking of other things I could be doing—or other things I should be doing. Being a student clashes with being a writer sometimes. I want to sit down and work on a piece, but all I can think about is that research paper I should start. Or finish. Or perfect. Or the video I need to watch so that I can answer those questions over it that will be discussed in class. Or the book I should be reading in case of a pop quiz. (Or how I'm so tired of doing homework and reading for school that during my free time I just want to throw myself onto the couch, switch on the TV, and mentally vegetate for a little while...)

I know education is important. If I didn't think that, I sure wouldn't be putting so much money, time, effort into it. I want that degree, don't get me wrong. But sometimes, especially when it concerns busy work, or work that I see as absolutely irrelevant to the things I want to do in my life (*coughMATHcough*), it's really hard to justify stifling a creative urge to look up congressional election statistics.

But other times, I think homework or laziness or lack of inspiration are just excuses. Poor, pitiful little excuses made up by a person who doesn't really want to admit to being afraid.

It's like I expect to never write garbage. Not ever, not any time. And that's just not feasible. Or realistic.

Brings to mind Ernest Hemingway's famous quote—

"The first draft of anything is shit."

I don't always believe that's true, but at the same time...there's definitely some truth in it. In other words, it doesn't make sense to put so much pressure on myself. It's not like I'm doing something wrong if I don't sit down and spill out a masterpiece in a few hours with no edits.

In a way, I think that's what I love so much about NaNoWriMo. It's one of the few times that the absolute insanity of the deadline creates an excuse in and of itself to not think too much or too hard about what I'm writing and instead to focus o the act of writing itself. To get the idea down, to flesh the story out. Editing is for later.

I've always been told that oftentimes the pieces that end up getting cut out of manuscripts are the pieces that the author loves the most. I never understood how that could be—how a scene or series of events favored by the author could somehow not fit in the story they created.

But you know what? It's true. I found this out myself in a longer piece I'm working on. The section I wrote that I felt was the strongest, that I was the most proud of, doesn't actually fit anywhere in the story. It's kind of mind-boggling, really. It probably sounds just about as crazy (especially to someone who isn't a writer, or who doesn't know any personally) as when I try to explain that just because I created a character doesn't mean I have complete control over what they do. But it's true. If you create a character, give him or her a lot of depth, background, personality, you'll start to find there are things they just won't do. It can be very tiresome when trying to write a scene in which your character just...isn't havin' it. But it happens.

Sidenote: I just watched a really great movie with my Mom over Thanksgiving break. It's called Miss Potter (about the woman who created the lovable Peter Rabbit) and there's a scene in this film that reminds me of what I just mentioned. She's talking to her illustration, which is misbehaving, and she says something along the lines of, "You better stop that, or I'll write you out!"

Anyway, that's the point of NaNoWriMo. To just get the story out, I mean. The idea is that unless you get it written down, you'll never have anything to edit. I'm constantly having to remind myself of that. Because all too often, even if I have the urge to write, if I get the feeling that I don't know where the story is going, or that I'm too tired or distracted to put my whole heart in it, I start to tell myself it's better if I just abandon the idea for the moment. But that's not the case. Some of the better stories I've written have come at times when I'm grasping for inspiration. It's always a very pleasant surprise.

So my advice to any of you out there with aspirations to write and anxieties about when and where to do it—the best methods, the tricks of the trade—would be simply this.

Write.

Because if you don't start there, if you don't start with a blank page and pour words out onto it, you'll never have anything. And if you never have anything, you sure as hell won't ever have anything great.

It begins...

I may lose sleep to get my word count in,
but Tucker does not.

It's begun! NaNoWriMo is well underway. So far, I'm the slightest bit ahead with my word count and frankly, I'm hoping to keep it that way. I'm still torn about what I'm working on. I originally planned to use this NaNo to keep working on my novel from last year—which I'm hoping to finish eventually and publish eventually. But at the last minute I decided to start something new.

Now I'm kind of stalled on my plot and I can't help but wonder if I should have stuck with my original plan...

Either way, I'm pressing on! I'm pretty happy with what I've written so far, and I thought I'd share it with you guys in you're interested. Feedback is most definitely welcome!

This is my first chapter, and my working title for the manuscript is "Checking Out." I'm not quite sure how to box it up in a genre for you guys—I guess it's kind of an alternate universe, or at least a futuristic, science-fiction piece. But I'm honestly not sure where it's going. So I hate to limit myself to writing only sci-fi. I tend to lean toward horror, so it won't surprise me in the least if it starts to creep in that that direction.

Also, I'm kind of creating a whole new system of government in this piece—new titles, new rules, all of that. If anything trips you up, please let me know—I'm happy to clarify. But instead of preemptively explaining the vocabulary, I'd like to see if the context makes it clear.

Proof!

NaNoWriMo is less than a month away! The website has already relaunched, welcoming back previous participants and inviting new people to sign up. Which I highly encourage you to do if you have a love for writing—even if you've never considered yourself a writer or a novelist. Give it a try! Writing can be very cathartic. Writing can make you realize you had something to say that maybe you'd never thought was in you to begin with.

Going along with the theme of NaNoWriMo... I have something to show you guys!

Besides shameless self-promotion and the fact that I’m super proud of it, it’s also potential motivation to any of you thinking about signing up to participate in National Novel Writing Month this year!

What do I have to show you?

PROOF!

Last year, one of the prizes for reaching the 50k-words mark was a code for a free proof copy of your novel! CreateSpace, an Amazon.com company, partnered up with NaNoWriMo to offer this awesome reward. And the coolest part? NaNoWriMo may end on November 30, but I had until sometime in either June or July to use my code!

What does this mean? This means I had plenty of time for edits, adding and taking away scenes that weren’t working or that needed to be fleshed out—basically, it meant that I didn’t have to settle for a proof copy that wasn’t tightened up.

Of course, being the procrastinator that I am, I waited until the last second to order my proof copy. In fact, I thought I’d missed the deadline, because I won’t lie—formatting through CreateSpace kind of threw me for a loop. It took me much longer than I’d expected. I couldn’t get the margins right, and admittedly my chapters still don’t start mid-page like they should. But I finally got it in.  The best part? Even though I was technically a day or two past the deadline, my code still worked! I won’t count on that again, though, just in case. But I was super excited!

The hard part was waiting for my proof copy to get to me. I had been home for some of the summer, and was between apartments at the time, so I had them ship to my home address. It still hadn’t arrived when I had to head back down to College Station and move in to my new apartment, so I was a little bit bummed about that.

But really, the excitement was…exciting. It was fun to have something to look forward to. And when it finally did arrive, my parents called me to let me know.

Instead of having them mail it to me, I decided to wait until I took a trip back home. I had a wedding to go to anyway, so I figured I'd just pick it up then.

Which I did.

And it was AWESOME.

Unhinged. By...Me!

I was surprised at how thin the actual book was, considering I had over one hundred manuscript pages. It just goes to show how different a manuscript looks from the book it will make. Can you imagine how many manuscript pages an author has when his published book ends up being over one thousand pages? Yeesh! On the positive side, I was afraid I was getting too wordy, writing too much—obviously I can afford to continue in my current writing style. Because my whole book was probably about fifty pages.

Granted the story isn't finished. I had hoped to have completed the manuscript before getting the proof copy. Unfortunately, I didn't manage that. But really, that's a good thing, right? I mean, if the story was finished at 100-ish pages, it would be more of a short story, wouldn't it? And I'm really hoping to write a novel.

Still, having a proof copy of a book, with an official ISBN number, my picture on the back with my biography, my name on the cover! Very very cool.

That's me! And Tucker, too. :-)

This experience also has made me appreciate editors even more than I already did. I can't tell you how many times I went through my manuscript looking for typos, name discrepancies (my protagonist had his name changed, then changed back) and notes-to-self, denoted [insert note-to-self here]. I thought I'd got them all, or at least most of them.

I was so, so terribly wrong.

Not only are there several typos—spell check is not fool-proof, you guys! Who knew?—there are also several occasions where my main character's name didn't make the switch back. And I have several [notes-to-self] shoved in the middle of sentences, glaringly obvious in print but somehow missed when I re-read the manuscript—Yes, I re-read the whole thing before submitting it, and I still missed all of these things.

In short, God bless editors. I know I for sure will not be self publishing because I don't trust myself to catch all of my mistakes. And I'd hate to come off as an incompetent writer my first go around.

Or really, ever.

Dedicated to my parents, of course!

What's that? Oh, just my book... ;-)

My book blurb, my picture, my bio, my barcode!

NaNoWriMo Website Relaunch!

It's October 1st! Which means only one more month until NaNoWriMo officially begins this year! I'm super excited. November is totally one of my favorite months of the year, just because of NaNoWriMo.

In case you haven't heard and are wondering what the heck this crazy person is talking about, allow me to explain.

NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. Which is the month of November. What's the purpose? To write a novel in 30 days! Crazy? Yes. Super fun? Double yes!

The object is to write 50,000 words in 30 days. If you're like me, you'll fall behind and spend several nights burning the midnight oil, sucking down coffee like it's your lifeblood, cursing your main characters for being difficult, and lamenting the lack of zing in your plot.

But the basic challenge is to get your idea out there, down on paper or typed up—editing comes later.

It's completely free to join, there are no penalties if you don't reach the goal of 50,000 words. Even if you only write a thousand words, that's still a thousand more than you had before you started!

Today is the day that NaNoWriMo.org officially relaunched, prepped and ready for 2010! I've already visited the store and found several nifty things I want to buy.

Here's my official participant badge!

And incidentally, if any of you guys are WriMos, too, and would like to add me as a Writing Buddy, feel free to do so!

I've already got some ideas floating around for my novel this year, and I'm pretty excited for November to roll in so I can get started on it! It'll be a challenge to fit in 50,000 words in 30 days while still keeping up with my classes, homework, and the like. But it's so worth it, and it's a great chance to work on my writing. And really, it's just a cool personal challenge. Sometimes it really is hard to keep from writing and rewriting and rewriting instead of just getting the whole thing out there. I'm still working on training myself to do that. If you don't get the idea down in the first place, there's nothing to edit at all–that's for sure!

So, think you want to participate this year? Go check out the website! Sign up!

Curious about what exactly is new and/or improved on the site? Check this link for a look at a list of new features!

Here's a few of the things I already want to buy! But please, go, check out all of the goodies in the store for yourself!

NaNoWriMo Tote Bag. It will be mine.

Official Noveling Pen.
I have a million pens.
I will have this one as well.

This is on a shirt. It makes me want some orange juice. 

I love hoodies. I love NaNoWriMo.
Therefore, I love this.

Pathological Picture Taker

I love writing. Writing is such a creative release. I find it relaxing in a way that few other things can be. But another thing I love to do is take pictures. Of anything, from my favorite Frappuccino, to my pets, to trees, clouds, anything. I think credit, in part, definitely goes to my parents. My Mom is the family photo taker in our household. Vacation, birthdays, I always expected to see my Mom behind the camera. Family reunions, Christmas, those are my Dad. But then again, he's the professional picture taker. He usually works with video rather than still pictures, but he knows what he's doing. I've learned a lot from my Dad when it comes to photo composition, subject, technique.

There's just something about taking a good picture that's very rewarding. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and as someone who works with words, I can really appreciate that analogy. I'm thinking about starting a new project, putting words to photos. I think it might be an interesting personal challenge to see what I can pair up with the photos I take.

But for now, I just have a series of photos I took today. More clouds. Hopefully they bring some rain. Again, all of these were taken with my iPhone 4, and all the effects were done with CameraBag and Best Camera, which can be purchased in the App Store.

And now for the photos + effects.