Friends... and France

      On Thursday (11/19), there will 100 local authors gathering together at the Spencer Road library. This fun event will run from 6-8 in the evening, and there will even be refreshments. (Yum!)

      Some of my writing friends and acquaintances will be there. Donna Volkenannt. Pat Wahler. Doyle Suit. Robin Tidwell. Marcia Gaye. Sheree Nielsen.

      This is not my first year going, and even though I don't sell many books, it's the connections that I enjoy... the camaraderie we share... the encouragement that's thrown my way--that's why I keep coming back to this event. It's writing friends--all over the world--who ensure that I keep writing.

       Which makes me think of my friends and family in France. The France I know is far from Paris, far from any big city. And yet, still, I am saddened.

   
      This is the France I know...

My sister, daughter and granddaughter... hiking
surrounded by the Pyrenees

I've never been to Paris (except the airport). All I know of France is beach towns, tiny villages, and a few largish cities (Pau, Bordeaux and Toulouse).

However, I've always found France to be a country full of people who are passionate in their conversations and their appreciation of life. Their priorities aren't all askew. They protect their past as they continue to move forward.

To see their country attacked... It's reason for all of us to stop and hug and reach out and think. 

 

       

I Won't Never Be Wearin' No Meat Dress... But I'm Still Ga-Ga

       I just got news this week that my sister--far away in France--is going to be a grandmother. Her oldest daughter is due in May.

This is the four of us girls, on a hike under the shadow of the Pyrenees,
on our trip there this past July.

My granddaughter is now 9. Although I was pleased when I heard the news from my daughter that she was pregnant, I had no idea how ga-ga I would go over being a grammy.

For that little girl I would commit a felony. For that little girl, I am writing a novel to chronicle something that she experienced. For that little girl, I paint my toe nails and try to wear shoes other-than-Crocs on an occasional basis. (As far as the shoes, I cannot say I'm always successful...)

What experience has happened to you that brought about unexpected results? A ga-ga grammy wants to know... 

Embrace the Messy

This is one of my favorite photos of Radar. It captures him in his favorite state. Just finished from running in the mud and the rain, he's messy... and completely content.

        Writing is messy as well. Sometimes you leave a trail of muck behind after writing and revising. And what's left on the page is golden. Sometimes you think you're in a groove but in reality, you've mucked things up royally.

        What things do you like to do that are messy? 

The Writers' Room

         I meet with my writing group twice a month--on the first and third Wednesday. The WWWPs are the best at critique, in my opinion.

      Recently, however, I became chair of a "teachers-as-writers" group. In past years, this group set up writing marathons, writing retreats, and so on. However, the only thing that really gets teachers writing is writing... and writing... and writing.

       So, several of us formed a writing critique group, and now on the 1st and 3rd Tuesday we meet. (That means I'm in a critique group four nights a month. Yikes!)

       There had been lots of discussion back and forth. What day? What time? And where? 

      One of the teachers has a connection with a bar and grill called Fergie's. (Her dad owns the place.)  She claimed there was a private room that would probably be available. After double-checking, she reported that the private room was free, and we could have it for the perfect price. (I told you it was free. "Free" is a teacher's favorite phrase, second only to "snow day.") 

       This past Tuesday was our third time meeting. The funny thing is, the bar's regulars (and all the people there are regulars, it seems) along with the staff, are quite curious about what goes on behind our closed door. They ask the owner lots of questions. They interrogated us when we left tonight. The waitresses--more than one--kept coming in with offers that made me suspicious.

           "Is that salt too coarsely ground for you?"
           "Would you like me to wipe the water spots off your utensils?"
           "Would you like me to peel your grapes?" 

       When I left on Tuesday, I told the owner, "I think you could make some extra money. Install a two-way mirror, and charge people to listen in on what we're doing." The group that was sitting with him got quite enthusiastic about the idea.

       I have a feeling that what they think is going on in the private writers' room is a whole lot more exciting than the reality of it. But it is amusing...

       What do they think is going on in the writers room?

       

Shoving Ahead

        With every  piece,
        write, write, write.
        There'll be some crap,
        write, write, write.
        And a time to revise... sometime later.
        A time to edit, a time to reread.
        A time to delete, a time to scrap.
        A time to rewrite, a time to share.
        A time to refuse to share... I swear it is pure poop. (My apologies to Pete Seeger, The Byrds and Peter, Paul and Mary.)

        It took me until this evening, but I did manage to get 3,000 more words shoved out. I'm getting over some bumpy plot parts, and perhaps I can set another goal this week or this next weekend, and achieve it or at least part of it.

        We'll see.

        What do you plan on accomplishing this week?

         I'm leaving you with a George Ezra video. The video itself is silly (I think) but I love his voice. He's so young but sounds like a middle-aged man (again, that's my opinion).

Goals or Ghouls?

      This weekend I'm setting a goal for myself. Between Friday night and Sunday morning, I plan on adding 3,000 words to my WIP.

       More importantly, I want to make some real progress when it comes to the plot. I have a couple of different storylines going, and moving forward with both of them would make me a happier writer. (The rest of the world might hope I never finish it. I get that. ;)

       Last Friday I wrote at a local coffeehouse. For a little longer than 3 hours I wrote. I set a word count goal, and wouldn't leave until I'd accomplished it.  (Thankfully, I got there--to my word-count goal-- a whole 10 minutes before they closed for the afternoon.)


        Are goals good things or horrid things--things that you avoid? Sometimes we set goals for ourselves and then beat ourselves up when we don't attain them. Sometimes those unattained goals haunt us. Doesn't that set us back even further?

       And if you have some tricks when it comes to goals, let us know. Procrastinating minds want to know...