It usually takes an effort to get the girls to listen to me. Today was an effort of me listening to them.
I did not want to get up this morning. Unfortunately I had Izzy and Lily, who begged to differ.
I am sure you have noticed I have not written on my blog in the last few days. The wonderful game of life as made me miss a few turns. So, needless to say, I had quite the effort trying to fall asleep from the stresses of it all. The last time I glared at that mean ole' alarm clock, it said 3:41 am, and I was still awake (for the first time, it was not the girls).
So at about 7:30 am, I had blonde hair, blue eye Lily (which we refer to as mini momma) in my face. She was an inch from my face, "momma, you awake?"
I am now.
"momma, Izzy hittin' me."
So I raised my voice from under the covers, so Izzy could hear me in her room. "Don't hit your sister."
I knew it was time to get up, but I was so tired. The momentum of getting up wasn't quite there, yet I was trying. A minute goes by and I hear a little huff from Lily, and she walks out the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. That was the last thing I remembered for another 30 minutes.
I wake up again at 8am to little Lily kisses all over my face. "Momma, can you get up, I want chocolate milk." I opened one eye, and once again she was an inch from my face. Apparently no one appreciates nor acknowledges the term, personal space. I whined and rolled over. She then proceeded to climb on the bed and on me.
"mommy, get up." She tried to rock my shoulders, not giving up.
All the while, my husband is laying next to me, snoring away. Yeah, I had a bit of jealousy running through me.
Lily once again runs out of the room.
In less than two minutes later a battle ensues in Izzy's room. Even with all the doors shut, it was quite clear. The screaming and crying, I thought it was a battle to the death in there.
I jumped out of bed without any thought (or else I would of never gotten up) and waltz into Izzy's room.
Lily was on top of Izzy, with a chunk of Izzy's hair and shirt in her little demon fist. This little girl is going to be the death of me.
A stiff talking to and almost an entire pot of coffee later, here I sit.
You know even with all that caffeine in me, my eyes keep trying to close as if I didn't sleep at all.
Two years down, a lifetime to go...
Even though I am not speed writing my novel as I wished, I fine that the ideas have been flowing quite smoothly in the last few days. I am excited to report my only plans beside the kids today is to write.
Finished first draft here I come.
I am also happy to report that my determination is at an all time high. I know it will not be easy getting my novel from my laptop to the bookstore shelf. But, what I do know is that I will not give up, until it is there. I have worked too hard emotionally and physically just to give up at the first mention of a turn down. I will be the book industries' worst nightmare, like a big ole' birthmark. They might as well get use to me!
Signed,
Little Ms. Perseverance
As far as my 30 day goal:
Thursday: 135 -completed!
Friday: 142 -completed!
Saturday: 149 -not completed, I have 146
I better put the petal to the metal, take a cold shower and jump on that cursor!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
At Least My Hopes and Dreams are Flushing Down the Toilet
I usually start off with the crazy things my children put me through, but today I would like to recognize my comments. Andrea, Stacey and Miera, thank you so much for your great comments! To hear that wonderful women such as yourselves, can truly appreciate and relate to what I go through really makes this blog worth writing. So I tip my hat to you all. Thank you ladies!
As far as my crazy girls are concerned, I am happy to report that the casualties for today were kept to a minimum. Thank you Izzy and Lily!
Although that doesn't mean they did not drive me crazy!
My husband contributed to my mental exhaustion, apparently he felt I wasn't spread thin enough. Now don't get me wrong, he is actually very helpful. He is a man who does laundry, picks up after the girls, vacuums... He is actually a very good housewife. It is my sanity that he helps destruct.
He decided to thank the girls for being sick all around the house and in the backseat of the car. To show his appreciation he taught them how to fake vomit! (I am completely serious!)
Now, thank goodness neither of the girls had vomited all day. So they were well enough to be out of their rooms and were watching tv in the living room with my husband. I was in the kitchen, supervising them, as my husband asked Izzy how she was feeling. "Good, Daddy."
Apparently at that point, he thought it was free game.
He thought it would be funny to "fake vomit" on Izzy by pretending to heave on her, saying it was, "payback." Well, she thought it was the funniest thing, so she started doing it back to him. Lily watched the both of them go back and fourth, pretending to vomit on each other (I am now truly convinced that people laugh over the grossest things.) Anyways, Lily watched them go back and fourth and decided, "Hey, that looks like fun, I want to do it too." So Lily joins in, running over to Izzy and my husband "pretending" to vomit on them.
Great, I lost any interest I had in making or having dinner.
So, here I am watching the three of them, huddled together, making "pretend" heaving sounds on each other.
These are the people I live with.
My husband looks over at me and decided it was funny to say, "hey, go get mommy."
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!
Now I have two growths on my legs, pretending to heave on me. All the while, I'm thinking, "what if they accidentally end up hitting the gag reflex." I give my husband "the cold, hard stare", that he loves so very much. It just makes him laugh even harder.
Now I know why boys are made of frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails...
My house, just like so many are going through a crucial time. Potty Training.
Just the mention of the words, make full grown adults want to hide in a closet, crying.
It is a horrible time for Lily as much as it is for mommy and daddy. "Lily, you need to go pee-pee on the potty." She smiles, "Okay, mommy." Five minutes later, she pee's herself. "Lily, I just brought you to the potty five minutes ago, why would you pee your pants." She uses the bottom lip move, "I'm sorry mommy." Aw, right? She knows how to hit the mark! Then, on top of the pee pee portion, I will bring her to the bathroom for #2. "Lily, you have to go poops on the potty too." She sits on the porcelain throne for a minute, then states, "mommy I don't have to do poops." Fine, we will try again in five minutes. Two minutes later, she poops her pants. Honestly? Cause I just brought you to the bathroom, why would you do that in your pants.
"Sorry, mommy." Ten minutes later, we do the exercise all over again.
Now mix that with the catastrophes they usually achieve, cleaning, cooking and writing. Ahh! Then, one day, someone will have the nerve to ask, "why did you have a mental breakdown. I just don't get it."
Mental note: Do you think when the kids are thirty and still walking around with depends on, they might finally understand...
I am feeling really good about my book today, the ideas are flowing smoothly. For the longest time, I couldn't figure out a good name for my book, and it finally hit me. It is going to take a bit of rewriting to have it make sense, but I love it!
You should probably know, I am not a mushy kind of women. I had tried the mushy road and those pages were cut. It's not me. Don't get me wrong, I love the occasional love scene, but life is not entirely made up of love scenes and neither is my novel. I love action, adrenaline. suspense and wittiness. The kind of book that makes you sit on the edge of your seat, unable to stop reading to find out what happens next. See, I get excited just thinking about it.
So without any further ado, there is a best-selling novel I need to finish.
Page goal for today: 128
Actual pages complete: 131
:)
Goal for tomorrow:135 (we will see.)
As far as my crazy girls are concerned, I am happy to report that the casualties for today were kept to a minimum. Thank you Izzy and Lily!
Although that doesn't mean they did not drive me crazy!
My husband contributed to my mental exhaustion, apparently he felt I wasn't spread thin enough. Now don't get me wrong, he is actually very helpful. He is a man who does laundry, picks up after the girls, vacuums... He is actually a very good housewife. It is my sanity that he helps destruct.
He decided to thank the girls for being sick all around the house and in the backseat of the car. To show his appreciation he taught them how to fake vomit! (I am completely serious!)
Now, thank goodness neither of the girls had vomited all day. So they were well enough to be out of their rooms and were watching tv in the living room with my husband. I was in the kitchen, supervising them, as my husband asked Izzy how she was feeling. "Good, Daddy."
Apparently at that point, he thought it was free game.
He thought it would be funny to "fake vomit" on Izzy by pretending to heave on her, saying it was, "payback." Well, she thought it was the funniest thing, so she started doing it back to him. Lily watched the both of them go back and fourth, pretending to vomit on each other (I am now truly convinced that people laugh over the grossest things.) Anyways, Lily watched them go back and fourth and decided, "Hey, that looks like fun, I want to do it too." So Lily joins in, running over to Izzy and my husband "pretending" to vomit on them.
Great, I lost any interest I had in making or having dinner.
So, here I am watching the three of them, huddled together, making "pretend" heaving sounds on each other.
These are the people I live with.
My husband looks over at me and decided it was funny to say, "hey, go get mommy."
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!
Now I have two growths on my legs, pretending to heave on me. All the while, I'm thinking, "what if they accidentally end up hitting the gag reflex." I give my husband "the cold, hard stare", that he loves so very much. It just makes him laugh even harder.
Now I know why boys are made of frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails...
My house, just like so many are going through a crucial time. Potty Training.
Just the mention of the words, make full grown adults want to hide in a closet, crying.
It is a horrible time for Lily as much as it is for mommy and daddy. "Lily, you need to go pee-pee on the potty." She smiles, "Okay, mommy." Five minutes later, she pee's herself. "Lily, I just brought you to the potty five minutes ago, why would you pee your pants." She uses the bottom lip move, "I'm sorry mommy." Aw, right? She knows how to hit the mark! Then, on top of the pee pee portion, I will bring her to the bathroom for #2. "Lily, you have to go poops on the potty too." She sits on the porcelain throne for a minute, then states, "mommy I don't have to do poops." Fine, we will try again in five minutes. Two minutes later, she poops her pants. Honestly? Cause I just brought you to the bathroom, why would you do that in your pants.
"Sorry, mommy." Ten minutes later, we do the exercise all over again.
Now mix that with the catastrophes they usually achieve, cleaning, cooking and writing. Ahh! Then, one day, someone will have the nerve to ask, "why did you have a mental breakdown. I just don't get it."
Mental note: Do you think when the kids are thirty and still walking around with depends on, they might finally understand...
I am feeling really good about my book today, the ideas are flowing smoothly. For the longest time, I couldn't figure out a good name for my book, and it finally hit me. It is going to take a bit of rewriting to have it make sense, but I love it!
You should probably know, I am not a mushy kind of women. I had tried the mushy road and those pages were cut. It's not me. Don't get me wrong, I love the occasional love scene, but life is not entirely made up of love scenes and neither is my novel. I love action, adrenaline. suspense and wittiness. The kind of book that makes you sit on the edge of your seat, unable to stop reading to find out what happens next. See, I get excited just thinking about it.
So without any further ado, there is a best-selling novel I need to finish.
Page goal for today: 128
Actual pages complete: 131
:)
Goal for tomorrow:135 (we will see.)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I Think my Mind and Ideas have Frozen Over!
The morning was actually calm! Yes, thank you man up above.
The afternoon? An unfortunate horror that plagued my husband and I in -1F weather.
First I would like to begin on what I observed this morning, even with Lily behaving she still finds a way to be demonic.
I stood in the kitchen this morning, sipping from my cup of coffee. Lily walks by me, into the kitchen, "Hi, mommy." Seems innocent enough, "Morning, Lily."
She gets on her little pink and purple Radio Flyer tricycle and starts riding in a large circle around her table and chair set. No problems there.
She kind of went into her own world as she slowly pushed the peddles, easing into the corners.Then, she started singing to herself, "La La La La..." She looked up on me with the evilest smile I have ever seen.
Now I would like to believe when I call her demonic it's only in joking and fun. Not this morning, she looked like she was trying out for the next Damion horror movie. "La La La La." As the wheels of the tricycle squeaks in motion.
Mental note: sleep with one eye open tonight.
Now the horror that we went through was a pure accident from Izzy. Your sick, your sick. I will just reiterate the obvious.
I must of been evil in a former life...
We brought the kids over to see my mother. Now, Izzy was fine for most of the morning. It wasn't until she was walking to the car that she began whining, "Mom, I don't feel good." Well, Lily got to play with grandma for the afternoon before we were on our way to the grocery store, then home. Now Izzy wasn't too happy at grandma's, and wasn't too happy at the store, either. I paid with my bankcard and we headed out in the -1 degree weather, to the car. After putting the kids in, my husband and I hurried to get the groceries in the trunk.
Izzy began screaming at the top of her lungs in the car. We both ran to the back seat, ripping open the doors.
If it wasn't for the fact that my tears would of instantly froze, I probably would of cried my eyes out. She had projectile vomited all over the back seat and all in the brand new toy and pull up bag. I applauded my husband for instantly removing her out of the car, as she wasn't finished. I ran to her side while my husband runs back in for paper towels. That's when it occurred to me, I was in such a rush, I used the wrong bankcard. Congratulations, I just went negative in my account, and it was to late in the day to fix it. Thank you thirty-five dollar overdraft fee.
Now I am rubbing Izzy's back (upset over the bank situation) ,while she is holding the shopping carriage carousel, vomiting her brains out. A grandmother type walks past, eyeing the location of where the heaving sound emanated. I smiled and waved. This was my life, and the end result of a vacation to Jamaica 5 1/2 yrs ago. Yay me.
She finally finishes, having no choice but to put her in the front seat while I figured out where to begin cleaning. Now, keep in mind, it is -1 degree outside, and I am pulling out wet wipes trying to do mess control. The wipes were frozen like a sheet of ice as I was trying to clean the mess, which was already frozen as well. My husband comes back out with towels and shopping bags, while I am trying to clean off frozen bi-product from the toy bag with a frozen wipe. I think he realized my sanity was frozen as well. "Honey, it's frozen, it's not coming off." I looked up at him, then down to the frozen bag. What the heck was I doing?
My hands were frozen and in extreme pain, I had a wipe stuck to it. Life couldn't get any better than this. I shoved everything I could in the plastic bags and threw them in the trunk, wanting just to get home asap. You know that feeling when your hands are going through hypothermia and then start to warm up, pain right? I sat in the passenger seat with my hands by the window, trying to keep them away from the heat pumping in the car for the kids.
Another three extra showers later...
Your probably thinking that writing is the last thing on my mind. After all, the kids alone are a full time job, how can someone take on another large task. As I am sure all other writers know, when you love something as much as I love writing, you find ways. From the moment I wake up to the moment I lay back in my bed, I think about how to make my novel sing. Is it something I would want to read? Does it make sense? Is it interesting enough to keep my attention?
Don't get me wrong, it's not as simple as taking the time to write, and going on about your day as usual. Somethings have to be sacrificed to make it work. My poor husband, who I love to death and beyond. If you ask him if we ever spend time together he will say it consist of us being in the same room, but me with the computer and ear plugs in. The ability to be able to relax and unwind does not happen, either. By the time the kids are in bed and I get a chapter done, it is 2 am and I have to go to sleep, so I can wake up to do it again. It is not something to take lightly. Even when I am in the hospital ( I have been very ill), I take the computer with me to work on my novel. Typing away as I have iv's going in every which direction.
You know what thought keeps me going? The dream to see that finished novel on the shelf. The sense of accomplishment that I finally have done something for me, it is enough to keep me writing each and everyday.
I will be happy to say that the goal of 121 pages has been met. I have written 123 pages! Thank you, Thank you.
Goal by the end of today: 128 pages complete by the end of today, Jan, 26.
Like Bob the Builder, "Can (s)he build it? Yes (s)he can!"
The afternoon? An unfortunate horror that plagued my husband and I in -1F weather.
First I would like to begin on what I observed this morning, even with Lily behaving she still finds a way to be demonic.
I stood in the kitchen this morning, sipping from my cup of coffee. Lily walks by me, into the kitchen, "Hi, mommy." Seems innocent enough, "Morning, Lily."
She gets on her little pink and purple Radio Flyer tricycle and starts riding in a large circle around her table and chair set. No problems there.
She kind of went into her own world as she slowly pushed the peddles, easing into the corners.Then, she started singing to herself, "La La La La..." She looked up on me with the evilest smile I have ever seen.
Now I would like to believe when I call her demonic it's only in joking and fun. Not this morning, she looked like she was trying out for the next Damion horror movie. "La La La La." As the wheels of the tricycle squeaks in motion.
Mental note: sleep with one eye open tonight.
Now the horror that we went through was a pure accident from Izzy. Your sick, your sick. I will just reiterate the obvious.
I must of been evil in a former life...
We brought the kids over to see my mother. Now, Izzy was fine for most of the morning. It wasn't until she was walking to the car that she began whining, "Mom, I don't feel good." Well, Lily got to play with grandma for the afternoon before we were on our way to the grocery store, then home. Now Izzy wasn't too happy at grandma's, and wasn't too happy at the store, either. I paid with my bankcard and we headed out in the -1 degree weather, to the car. After putting the kids in, my husband and I hurried to get the groceries in the trunk.
Izzy began screaming at the top of her lungs in the car. We both ran to the back seat, ripping open the doors.
If it wasn't for the fact that my tears would of instantly froze, I probably would of cried my eyes out. She had projectile vomited all over the back seat and all in the brand new toy and pull up bag. I applauded my husband for instantly removing her out of the car, as she wasn't finished. I ran to her side while my husband runs back in for paper towels. That's when it occurred to me, I was in such a rush, I used the wrong bankcard. Congratulations, I just went negative in my account, and it was to late in the day to fix it. Thank you thirty-five dollar overdraft fee.
Now I am rubbing Izzy's back (upset over the bank situation) ,while she is holding the shopping carriage carousel, vomiting her brains out. A grandmother type walks past, eyeing the location of where the heaving sound emanated. I smiled and waved. This was my life, and the end result of a vacation to Jamaica 5 1/2 yrs ago. Yay me.
She finally finishes, having no choice but to put her in the front seat while I figured out where to begin cleaning. Now, keep in mind, it is -1 degree outside, and I am pulling out wet wipes trying to do mess control. The wipes were frozen like a sheet of ice as I was trying to clean the mess, which was already frozen as well. My husband comes back out with towels and shopping bags, while I am trying to clean off frozen bi-product from the toy bag with a frozen wipe. I think he realized my sanity was frozen as well. "Honey, it's frozen, it's not coming off." I looked up at him, then down to the frozen bag. What the heck was I doing?
My hands were frozen and in extreme pain, I had a wipe stuck to it. Life couldn't get any better than this. I shoved everything I could in the plastic bags and threw them in the trunk, wanting just to get home asap. You know that feeling when your hands are going through hypothermia and then start to warm up, pain right? I sat in the passenger seat with my hands by the window, trying to keep them away from the heat pumping in the car for the kids.
Another three extra showers later...
Your probably thinking that writing is the last thing on my mind. After all, the kids alone are a full time job, how can someone take on another large task. As I am sure all other writers know, when you love something as much as I love writing, you find ways. From the moment I wake up to the moment I lay back in my bed, I think about how to make my novel sing. Is it something I would want to read? Does it make sense? Is it interesting enough to keep my attention?
Don't get me wrong, it's not as simple as taking the time to write, and going on about your day as usual. Somethings have to be sacrificed to make it work. My poor husband, who I love to death and beyond. If you ask him if we ever spend time together he will say it consist of us being in the same room, but me with the computer and ear plugs in. The ability to be able to relax and unwind does not happen, either. By the time the kids are in bed and I get a chapter done, it is 2 am and I have to go to sleep, so I can wake up to do it again. It is not something to take lightly. Even when I am in the hospital ( I have been very ill), I take the computer with me to work on my novel. Typing away as I have iv's going in every which direction.
You know what thought keeps me going? The dream to see that finished novel on the shelf. The sense of accomplishment that I finally have done something for me, it is enough to keep me writing each and everyday.
I will be happy to say that the goal of 121 pages has been met. I have written 123 pages! Thank you, Thank you.
Goal by the end of today: 128 pages complete by the end of today, Jan, 26.
Like Bob the Builder, "Can (s)he build it? Yes (s)he can!"
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Mom Set to Erupt January 24,2011
I would like to think Lily's motive this morning was along the lines of, "this diaper rash is killing me, I better put some baby powder on." But judging by the end result, I seriously doubt it.
It seemed like a decent enough morning after four hours of sleep (she was up again sick). The television was on in Izzy's room, there was no screaming or fighting. A mom can learn to live with that kind of morning, right? WRONG
My husband gets up first, says good morning to Izzy in her room before going downstairs to the kitchen to start the coffee. I didn't even get the chance to roll out of bed before he comes bolting back up the stairs. He comes back into the bedroom, looks at me with a blank and dumbfounded stare before commenting, "honey, I need your help downstairs." Now the way he bolted up those stairs like the house was on fire did not match his cool and disconcerting attitude. So now I am even more baffled.
A morning that once started nice and easy about three minutes earlier turned into the agony of a lifetime.I made my way down the stairs to the first floor, down the hallway, to the kitchen and ...OMG.
The entire first floor looked like the aftermath of a volcanic eruption! Like waves of fine white ash swarmed my kitchen, dining room, living room, and even the bathroom. I look on the kitchen island to see our TWO jumbo size baby powders in the middle. I walk over and pick up the first one-empty, second one-empty. My husband stood in the middle of the aftermath. We exchanged glances and I briskly turned, walking back upstairs. It was when I hit the middle step when I sighed, stomped and forced myself to go back.
Who would be sitting at her little kids table in the middle of the kitchen, completely albino from head to toe? Yup, you guessed it-the little spawn of satin! She said not a peep, her fingers mingled together, resting on the table. She would of looked like the perfect angel if she didn't look like she was thrown in a large plastic bag and shake n' baked.
I wonder if there is any Kahlua left to add to my coffee.
I was finally able to make that cup of deliciousness, deciding to sit in the living room to watch Lily a little more closely. Computer on the foot stool, coffee on the end table, I opened up the work-in-progress novel.
Within sixty minutes:
"Mom, bear has holes, can you sew him." (Izzy doesn't go anywhere without him.)
"I'm hungry"
"I'm thirsty"
"Lily hit me"
"Izzy bit me"
"Honey, the furnace is broken"
"Ang, your mom's on the phone"
"What, you don't love your mother anymore? You never call." (My mother's a bit dramatic)
"Mommy I have poops"
"Mom, can I watch Coraline?"
"Can I have more milk?"
Mommy is going to hide in the closet, in fetal position, to cry for hours. Go find Daddy.
Needless to say for Sunday, the 23rd and Monday, the 24th, I did not meet my quota . :(
BUT
That means I will have to work extra hard to meet Tuesday. I will have to accomplish 16 pages to bring me to 121 pages complete. I WILL DO IT!
So, everyone is obviously asking, "what is your book about anyways?" As I am sure you are aware, until I have it registered I do not want to go to much into it. But, I will say this:
If you enjoy paranormal, fast machines, with a touch of folk Lore, then it might be a good choice for you!
Anyways, I am beyond tired and in need of some sleep. I will be back tomorrow, begging for a little less hectic of a day.
Wish me luck!
It seemed like a decent enough morning after four hours of sleep (she was up again sick). The television was on in Izzy's room, there was no screaming or fighting. A mom can learn to live with that kind of morning, right? WRONG
My husband gets up first, says good morning to Izzy in her room before going downstairs to the kitchen to start the coffee. I didn't even get the chance to roll out of bed before he comes bolting back up the stairs. He comes back into the bedroom, looks at me with a blank and dumbfounded stare before commenting, "honey, I need your help downstairs." Now the way he bolted up those stairs like the house was on fire did not match his cool and disconcerting attitude. So now I am even more baffled.
A morning that once started nice and easy about three minutes earlier turned into the agony of a lifetime.I made my way down the stairs to the first floor, down the hallway, to the kitchen and ...OMG.
The entire first floor looked like the aftermath of a volcanic eruption! Like waves of fine white ash swarmed my kitchen, dining room, living room, and even the bathroom. I look on the kitchen island to see our TWO jumbo size baby powders in the middle. I walk over and pick up the first one-empty, second one-empty. My husband stood in the middle of the aftermath. We exchanged glances and I briskly turned, walking back upstairs. It was when I hit the middle step when I sighed, stomped and forced myself to go back.
Who would be sitting at her little kids table in the middle of the kitchen, completely albino from head to toe? Yup, you guessed it-the little spawn of satin! She said not a peep, her fingers mingled together, resting on the table. She would of looked like the perfect angel if she didn't look like she was thrown in a large plastic bag and shake n' baked.
 |
| Volcanic ash, Mt. Merapi 10/26/10 |
 |
| Powder Ash, Mt. Lily 1/24/2010 |
 |
| There was disaster everyone. Oh, the humanity! |
 |
| Mt. Lily eruption, 2011 |
Two and a half hours cleaning and three empties of the Romba later...
After I showered my self and the horned child, I thought I could have a cup of coffee, Yeah-no.
Apparently Izzy was feeling left out because she decided to not use the bathroom and soil her entire bedding, three loads of laundry and a bath later...I wonder if there is any Kahlua left to add to my coffee.
I was finally able to make that cup of deliciousness, deciding to sit in the living room to watch Lily a little more closely. Computer on the foot stool, coffee on the end table, I opened up the work-in-progress novel.
Within sixty minutes:
"Mom, bear has holes, can you sew him." (Izzy doesn't go anywhere without him.)
"I'm hungry"
"I'm thirsty"
"Lily hit me"
"Izzy bit me"
"Honey, the furnace is broken"
"Ang, your mom's on the phone"
"What, you don't love your mother anymore? You never call." (My mother's a bit dramatic)
"Mommy I have poops"
"Mom, can I watch Coraline?"
"Can I have more milk?"
Mommy is going to hide in the closet, in fetal position, to cry for hours. Go find Daddy.
Needless to say for Sunday, the 23rd and Monday, the 24th, I did not meet my quota . :(
BUT
That means I will have to work extra hard to meet Tuesday. I will have to accomplish 16 pages to bring me to 121 pages complete. I WILL DO IT!
So, everyone is obviously asking, "what is your book about anyways?" As I am sure you are aware, until I have it registered I do not want to go to much into it. But, I will say this:
If you enjoy paranormal, fast machines, with a touch of folk Lore, then it might be a good choice for you!
Anyways, I am beyond tired and in need of some sleep. I will be back tomorrow, begging for a little less hectic of a day.
Wish me luck!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Haven't you seen my Novel and Sanity in Stores
So it has been a glorious morning. Consisting of tearing the house apart for the last hour looking for a movie the girls rented. It is not in the case, nor the DVD player. The best part of all, when I ask them where it is, their reply is simply a shrug. Upon further demand of knowledge of this movie (like a hostage situation), the little one looks at me for a moment with big blue eyes, "I don't know." She runs out of the room, up the stairs and hides under her bed. I am left with still no movie, and serious doubt in the continuity of my bloodline. I can't help but have the words of the great Dennis Leary circle in my mind:
"You keep thinking that [the kids are] going to wake up one day and they'll go, "Oh, now I know the rules." But they don't. Just like listening to MmmmBop over and over again; every day is the same thing. It always starts the same exact way. "Close the door...give me that bag of Oreos, you're not having Oreos for breakfast...no TV right now...close the door...no, leave the dog alone...will you please find your shoes...give me that bag of Oreos...find your shoes...you put your shoes on...I don't know where your shoes are...I didn't have your shoes on...close the door...put that...no, don't cut the dog's hair right now...c'mon...those are HIS shoes...go tell him you have his shoes and then find your shoes...close that door...put the phone down, who are you calling? You're too young to call anybody...don't feed Oreos to the dog...give me that bag of Oreos...now, close that door ...uh...yeah...no...no...no ...no...those ARE your shoes...they have to be! Who are you? I want ID...let me see some ID."
And your life immediately, when they hit age 5, becomes about quiet. You just want peace and quiet. That's all you want. You want the fighting to stop. Can't we all just get along? You turn into Rodney King, you do!"
If that isn't bad enough on this whole movie subject. My husband comes in the door from running errands and I explain the movie situation and where I looked. Instead of pitching in to help find it or trying to torture (the hostages, my children) for more information. He nonchalantly says, "hm, do you know where the kids put it?"
This, ladies and gentlemen, is my family...
Update: The DVD has been found. I tilted the DVD player and two DVDs came out (with little finger smudges on the back.)
I will be happy to report that of the goal of 7 pages to be written in the novel on Saturday, 7 were completed!
1 day down, 29 days and 200 pages to go...
I often dream what it would be like to finish the novel. I mean, to actually finish all the drafts. On that day, I will proudly jump up and down in celebration on the hard work that finally came together. After my short lived celebration comes the work of finding the backing, an agent. To work with me, offer their unbias feedback; to help cultivate my dreams. When we can finally agree in unison on its finished, shined up ideas, we can propose to the publishers. Time, effort and hope will take place before agreeing to put my baby in the hands of an outstanding publisher who will help do their part of attaining my dream. The finished product?To go into a bookstore and aimlessly drift around. There, in all its splendor it stands on the bookshelf, eager to open up the mind and imagination of a reader. Then, on that day, my dream has been met!
Unfortunately, in the here and now, I sit at the dining room table. The laptop in front of me, coffee on my left. The document open to page 100, with its cursor blinking its challenging eye. It's amazing how much you can resent that cursor, like the buzzer on an alarm clock that won't let you sleep. I may not defeat that buzzer, but I will defeat that cursor.
It is with my dreams open for you all to see, I will return to that open document and see how far my imagination can take me today.
"You keep thinking that [the kids are] going to wake up one day and they'll go, "Oh, now I know the rules." But they don't. Just like listening to MmmmBop over and over again; every day is the same thing. It always starts the same exact way. "Close the door...give me that bag of Oreos, you're not having Oreos for breakfast...no TV right now...close the door...no, leave the dog alone...will you please find your shoes...give me that bag of Oreos...find your shoes...you put your shoes on...I don't know where your shoes are...I didn't have your shoes on...close the door...put that...no, don't cut the dog's hair right now...c'mon...those are HIS shoes...go tell him you have his shoes and then find your shoes...close that door...put the phone down, who are you calling? You're too young to call anybody...don't feed Oreos to the dog...give me that bag of Oreos...now, close that door ...uh...yeah...no...no...no ...no...those ARE your shoes...they have to be! Who are you? I want ID...let me see some ID."
And your life immediately, when they hit age 5, becomes about quiet. You just want peace and quiet. That's all you want. You want the fighting to stop. Can't we all just get along? You turn into Rodney King, you do!"
If that isn't bad enough on this whole movie subject. My husband comes in the door from running errands and I explain the movie situation and where I looked. Instead of pitching in to help find it or trying to torture (the hostages, my children) for more information. He nonchalantly says, "hm, do you know where the kids put it?"
This, ladies and gentlemen, is my family...
Update: The DVD has been found. I tilted the DVD player and two DVDs came out (with little finger smudges on the back.)
I will be happy to report that of the goal of 7 pages to be written in the novel on Saturday, 7 were completed!
1 day down, 29 days and 200 pages to go...
I often dream what it would be like to finish the novel. I mean, to actually finish all the drafts. On that day, I will proudly jump up and down in celebration on the hard work that finally came together. After my short lived celebration comes the work of finding the backing, an agent. To work with me, offer their unbias feedback; to help cultivate my dreams. When we can finally agree in unison on its finished, shined up ideas, we can propose to the publishers. Time, effort and hope will take place before agreeing to put my baby in the hands of an outstanding publisher who will help do their part of attaining my dream. The finished product?To go into a bookstore and aimlessly drift around. There, in all its splendor it stands on the bookshelf, eager to open up the mind and imagination of a reader. Then, on that day, my dream has been met!
Unfortunately, in the here and now, I sit at the dining room table. The laptop in front of me, coffee on my left. The document open to page 100, with its cursor blinking its challenging eye. It's amazing how much you can resent that cursor, like the buzzer on an alarm clock that won't let you sleep. I may not defeat that buzzer, but I will defeat that cursor.
It is with my dreams open for you all to see, I will return to that open document and see how far my imagination can take me today.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
What a great way to start your day and Novel
So, after my motivational rant, things did not go as smoothly as I dreamed.
I climbed into bed, slowly drifting to sleep when the two year comes to the doorway. Before I even had a chance to ask whats wrong, she projectile vomits like the exorcist all over the place.
I must of been evil in a former life.
I am watching infomercials about a new miracle product while sitting by her and a bucket. Did you know actual shows don't come back on until 7'ish.
It is so refreshing to pay for eight hundred channels.
Let me first start off with the objective. I read an interesting article about "Writing a Novel in 30 Days". Something with such a title peaks my interest but at the same time I hear a little voice of reality, that's not possible. It goes on to say that you should write everything down, and not to worry about editing, perfect word choice or research. Get your first draft down, then you can go back and fix and add. Well, that actually intrigued me because they were right. I need to stop worry about it being perfect and just write. Marvelous!
Objective: Complete the entire first draft in 30 days.
This is probably the hardest thing I've ever done!
Lets see, I am writing an adult fantasy book which will be about 300 pages, I have 93 (had 200, but I edited. a lot). So 207 divided by 30 days= 7 pages a day.
I guess it's better than 10 pages a day. Started January 22, completed novel by February 20, 2011.
Noon rears its ugly head, and with eyes burning from two hours sleep, I finally sit to write. Choosing a room where the children are not running and screaming is a prime piece of real estate. Hiding in the dining room is as close as I'm going to get. The children actually sat quietly in the living room watching a movie.
Coffee to the left of the computer, Tylenol to my right. I stare longingly at the blinking cursor. Slowly easing into the first paragraph of the page, trying not to worry about the prefect words to use.
"Mom, I'm thirsty, can I have some milk?" The four year old, Izzy, would drink the whole gallon if you let her.
Off I go, away from my blinking cursor to get the milk. She gets her milk and sits back down to watch the movie. I stare blankly at the cursor, trying to find the idea I left off on.
"Mommy, can I have juice?"
I should of known better.
The little one, Lily, was looking better and wasn't vomiting. But, like me, needed sleep.
I got her the juice and laid her down; turning my attention back to the blinking cursor.
Where did my paragraph idea go to now.
It took a few moments to be back on track, picking up my coffee cup to take a sip. Empty. This is not going well...
Having an idea is great, having the time to write it down, even better.
Jim, my husband, can be really supportive. Unfortunately he's not necessarily on the same wavelength as me, most days. He understands what it is like to have a goal, just like anyone else, he just doesn't necessarily understand my goal. The complete lack of understanding of why I would want to push to finish it in 30 days.
His theory: just take your time, don't rush it.
We had a conversation not to long ago, that I should just go to bed, and try again tomorrow. To me that is cheating. Think about it. If someone dieting set a goal of losing 10 pounds in thirty days, the best idea would be to pass on that piece of chocolate cake. We can all fool ourselves but it comes down to this. If that person had the chocolate cake one night and said,"I'll try again tomorrow", there never going to lose those 10 pounds. If I give in tonight, then I will probably give in tomorrow. I will never write those 7 pages a day and never reach that goal, and all of this would of been a waste of my time and yours.
We all have things in our daily lives that get us off track on what really matter. Its the strength to get ourselves back into it, and quite frankly, dominate.
I had a friend who read this blog and asked, "why is it called the Everlasting Novel." My answer: No matter how long it takes me, or what life throws at me, I will keep on writing. I will never stop, and never give up. It will be an everlasting effort and effect on my life.
Now with all the energy and good ides I can muster, I am going to write an incredible novel. It will truly be built of blood, sweat and tears, but it will be mine.
That my friends, is true success.
I climbed into bed, slowly drifting to sleep when the two year comes to the doorway. Before I even had a chance to ask whats wrong, she projectile vomits like the exorcist all over the place.
I must of been evil in a former life.
I am watching infomercials about a new miracle product while sitting by her and a bucket. Did you know actual shows don't come back on until 7'ish.
It is so refreshing to pay for eight hundred channels.
Let me first start off with the objective. I read an interesting article about "Writing a Novel in 30 Days". Something with such a title peaks my interest but at the same time I hear a little voice of reality, that's not possible. It goes on to say that you should write everything down, and not to worry about editing, perfect word choice or research. Get your first draft down, then you can go back and fix and add. Well, that actually intrigued me because they were right. I need to stop worry about it being perfect and just write. Marvelous!
Objective: Complete the entire first draft in 30 days.
This is probably the hardest thing I've ever done!
Lets see, I am writing an adult fantasy book which will be about 300 pages, I have 93 (had 200, but I edited. a lot). So 207 divided by 30 days= 7 pages a day.
I guess it's better than 10 pages a day. Started January 22, completed novel by February 20, 2011.
Noon rears its ugly head, and with eyes burning from two hours sleep, I finally sit to write. Choosing a room where the children are not running and screaming is a prime piece of real estate. Hiding in the dining room is as close as I'm going to get. The children actually sat quietly in the living room watching a movie.
Coffee to the left of the computer, Tylenol to my right. I stare longingly at the blinking cursor. Slowly easing into the first paragraph of the page, trying not to worry about the prefect words to use.
"Mom, I'm thirsty, can I have some milk?" The four year old, Izzy, would drink the whole gallon if you let her.
Off I go, away from my blinking cursor to get the milk. She gets her milk and sits back down to watch the movie. I stare blankly at the cursor, trying to find the idea I left off on.
"Mommy, can I have juice?"
I should of known better.
The little one, Lily, was looking better and wasn't vomiting. But, like me, needed sleep.
I got her the juice and laid her down; turning my attention back to the blinking cursor.
Where did my paragraph idea go to now.
It took a few moments to be back on track, picking up my coffee cup to take a sip. Empty. This is not going well...
Having an idea is great, having the time to write it down, even better.
Jim, my husband, can be really supportive. Unfortunately he's not necessarily on the same wavelength as me, most days. He understands what it is like to have a goal, just like anyone else, he just doesn't necessarily understand my goal. The complete lack of understanding of why I would want to push to finish it in 30 days.
His theory: just take your time, don't rush it.
We had a conversation not to long ago, that I should just go to bed, and try again tomorrow. To me that is cheating. Think about it. If someone dieting set a goal of losing 10 pounds in thirty days, the best idea would be to pass on that piece of chocolate cake. We can all fool ourselves but it comes down to this. If that person had the chocolate cake one night and said,"I'll try again tomorrow", there never going to lose those 10 pounds. If I give in tonight, then I will probably give in tomorrow. I will never write those 7 pages a day and never reach that goal, and all of this would of been a waste of my time and yours.
We all have things in our daily lives that get us off track on what really matter. Its the strength to get ourselves back into it, and quite frankly, dominate.
I had a friend who read this blog and asked, "why is it called the Everlasting Novel." My answer: No matter how long it takes me, or what life throws at me, I will keep on writing. I will never stop, and never give up. It will be an everlasting effort and effect on my life.
Now with all the energy and good ides I can muster, I am going to write an incredible novel. It will truly be built of blood, sweat and tears, but it will be mine.
That my friends, is true success.
Friday, January 21, 2011
My greatest ideas come and go like the ocean tides. In a brief moment I will be exploding with ideas, to the point where my fingers eagerly try to keep pace. The next well, I find myself drifting (sometimes to sleep) because I can't seem to get the words out right. If that isn't bad enough, lets throw in something else. Schedule (a wonderful invention, isn't it?), that was only made to sabotage my only great chance at infinite success.
How do you measure success, where it matters the most. In writing a novel.
Since this my blog, I am going to be a little selfish, and go out on a limb.
How about success starting with formulating an idea. Check
Next, adding great characters that make the novel sing. Check
What about finishing the first draft of the novel and being truly proud of yourself. Big Fat No
Writing, as I mentioned, can be hard enough. Adding a two and four year old into the mix and some ailments and I can kiss my sweet serenity goodbye. Believe me, despite my really good excuses, there is some good points to this beginning summary. Motivation is alive and well and so is its cousin, perseverance.
With this blog, I can assure you it will end with a finished novel. Maybe even a good, entertaining story for my generations to come. But, whatever happens, the story will go on. I will be proud of my success, even if that means one chapter at a time.
How do you measure success, where it matters the most. In writing a novel.
Since this my blog, I am going to be a little selfish, and go out on a limb.
How about success starting with formulating an idea. Check
Next, adding great characters that make the novel sing. Check
What about finishing the first draft of the novel and being truly proud of yourself. Big Fat No
Writing, as I mentioned, can be hard enough. Adding a two and four year old into the mix and some ailments and I can kiss my sweet serenity goodbye. Believe me, despite my really good excuses, there is some good points to this beginning summary. Motivation is alive and well and so is its cousin, perseverance.
With this blog, I can assure you it will end with a finished novel. Maybe even a good, entertaining story for my generations to come. But, whatever happens, the story will go on. I will be proud of my success, even if that means one chapter at a time.
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