I have been writing all afternoon. Having that dream yesterday somehow lit a fire underneath me. I am really liking this character I have been focusing on lately. Her name is Jessica and she isn't in the little excerpt I posted the other day. She is Laura's first cousin and she is a senior in high school. She is falling in love with the most popular boy in school and I am just in love with their little story! Of course, I know a huge problem is about to arise with their relationship...
It is strange to me how spontaneous I am about writing. For the most part, I am very regimented in everything I do. I like schedules and lists and plans. I do things the same way at the same time every day. This is normally how I thrive. But with creative writing, it just cannot be planned. I can plan certain aspects of writing, like character names and plot lines, but the actual writing has to come when I am inspired, which is not everyday. Maybe it will get easier as I write more. And I guess the more I have written, the more I will have to inspire me.
Okay, work is now over because my little one has just woken up from her nap. Maybe I can get in some more writing before the end of the day.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Inspiring Dreams
I mentioned in a previous post that sometimes my writing ideas come from dreams. Well last night I had another inspiration. I have to first explain how these dreams work before I explain what happened in last night's dream. In these inspiring dreams, I am the main character and I am personally experiencing the storyline. However, I have to stress that they aren't actually happening to me, Tonya. I had to really explain this to my husband after I dreamed I had an affair. I, Tonya, am very happily married and completely in love with my husband. But in this particular dream, I (the main character of my dream) was completely unhappy with my marriage, and this fact was one of the reasons I had an affair. This is how I know that this dream is not about me and my subconscious, it is about one of my characters. (By the way, I completely expect men with straight jackets to arrive on my doorstep after people read this post!) I think these storylines happen to me personally because I need to feel the experience personally in order to write about it. The strange thing about these dreams is I don't necessarily know which of my characters I am dreaming about. It is kind of fun to have to figure this out the next morning.
Okay so last night it was a romantic dream. It was fun and exhilarating because it was a, oh my gosh, did he just hit on me? kind of moment. I was in college and I am talking to a young professor, maybe a graduate assistant. It is right after class and he and I are conversing like we are pretty good friends. I ask him if he is going to the game and he responds that football is not really his thing. Then I say that I am in the band and he says, "Yes I know. It is strange to me to see your beautiful hair all sweaty and stuck to her head after you have been in your uniform all night." I am completely surprised by this statement and then there is this moment of connection between the two of us. His eyes look at me and tell me that yes, he realizes what he just said and that he is, in fact, interested in me. And I look at him in a completely different way. All of a sudden, I realize that he has been admiring me this entire time of knowing each other. I am completely tongue-tied. I don't know what to say, so I say, "I don't know how beautiful it is. I pulled out a gray hair the other day." How funny is that? Now that last part is from my own experience because I pulled out my first gray hair when I was 20-years-old. Turning prematurely gray runs in my family (thanks, mom.)
I am not 100% positive who this dream was about, but I have a pretty good idea. And this is exciting because I haven't really expanded on this particular character very much up until now. I am also excited because this past week I have been completely blank when it comes to writing anything new. I have been focusing on organizing my family tree and editing what I have already written. And I also have been reading a lot. I see this as a perk to my "job." Reading and writing have an entanglement that is unbreakable, and so it is very important that I keep reading. And since I love to read, I don't object :)
Okay so last night it was a romantic dream. It was fun and exhilarating because it was a, oh my gosh, did he just hit on me? kind of moment. I was in college and I am talking to a young professor, maybe a graduate assistant. It is right after class and he and I are conversing like we are pretty good friends. I ask him if he is going to the game and he responds that football is not really his thing. Then I say that I am in the band and he says, "Yes I know. It is strange to me to see your beautiful hair all sweaty and stuck to her head after you have been in your uniform all night." I am completely surprised by this statement and then there is this moment of connection between the two of us. His eyes look at me and tell me that yes, he realizes what he just said and that he is, in fact, interested in me. And I look at him in a completely different way. All of a sudden, I realize that he has been admiring me this entire time of knowing each other. I am completely tongue-tied. I don't know what to say, so I say, "I don't know how beautiful it is. I pulled out a gray hair the other day." How funny is that? Now that last part is from my own experience because I pulled out my first gray hair when I was 20-years-old. Turning prematurely gray runs in my family (thanks, mom.)
I am not 100% positive who this dream was about, but I have a pretty good idea. And this is exciting because I haven't really expanded on this particular character very much up until now. I am also excited because this past week I have been completely blank when it comes to writing anything new. I have been focusing on organizing my family tree and editing what I have already written. And I also have been reading a lot. I see this as a perk to my "job." Reading and writing have an entanglement that is unbreakable, and so it is very important that I keep reading. And since I love to read, I don't object :)
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Public Display
Okay. The big moment. Drum roll please...
I am going to share for the first time to the public a very small segment from my novel. This has only been read by me, my husband and mother-in-law. It is still very much in the first drafting phrase. When I began this story five years ago my idea was to have it be completely told through a child's eyes. But in the last few weeks, my writing has a taken a turn. I have had very vivid dreams about some of the other characters in the family who are not children. And their stories are not necessarily children friendly - so I'm not sure how this will all pull together. Or maybe I'm looking at more than one book. Who knows. But anyway, this segment is from a child's point of view.
Laura Kenshaw’s mother would not have a problem leading Laura to bed tonight. Laura Kenshaw was 6-years old. She was an active child, full of energy and curiosity. Every night at 8:30, Laura’s mother would declare, “Bed time!”
“Mommy, I don’t want to go to bed; I just got the game set up! Lisa and I were going to play Monopoly!”
“That will have to wait until tomorrow, Sweetie. Why don’t you tell Lisa goodnight.”
And thus, the “bedtime meltdown,” as Laura’s father had coined it, would begin. Laura would throw a fit. She would declare that it was not fair she had to go to bed when she was not tired. Laura’s mother would not raise her voice. She would simply state, “Little girls need their rest.” This always made Laura mad. Her hands would curl up into fists and she would say with her jaw clenched, “I am not little.” Laura was in Kindergarten. She could spell out her name. She was not little anymore. But her mother never replied to this. She would simply look at Laura and raise her eyebrows. Laura would try to stand her ground, but she knew it was no use. She would then march off to her bedroom in defeat. Once Laura climbed up in her four poster bed with her favorite purple quilt, she would usually realize she was more tired than she had thought. But she would never let her mother know.
“Let’s see, where did we leave off?” Laura’s mother would ask as she picked up the worn book from the nightstand. Laura and her mother liked to read books together. Laura’s mother knew the bedtime meltdown was over when Laura’s eyes would light up and she would describe, in great detail, what the characters in the book were involved in the previous night.
“Don’t you remember, Mommy? The princess was walking in the woods, and she found the evil witch’s cottage! And…”
“Oh yes, that’s right. How do you remember so well?” Her mother would clear her throat and begin, “Chapter Three. The princess…”
The last thing Laura would remember, before she could not keep her eyes open one more second, would be her mother’s voice saying, “Good night little princess. I love you.” Laura would be too tired to protest the ‘little.’
But tonight was different. Tonight there would be no bedtime meltdown. In fact, it was only 8:00, and Laura had already changed into her pajamas. Tonight was a special night. Although Laura loved to stay up late, she knew that the sooner she went to bed, the sooner tomorrow would arrive. And tomorrow was the day that Laura looked forward to all year. In fact, it was probably the day most little girls and boys looked forward to. But Laura had a special reason for wishing for tomorrow. Tomorrow was the one of the few days of the year she would be around the whole family at Grandma’s house! Tomorrow was Christmas Day.
“Laura, what are you doing in pajamas?” Laura’s father asked. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with tomorrow would it? You’re not looking forward to Christmas are you?” Laura giggled as she looked up into her father’s eyes. “Come here, you little princess! I mean, excuse me – BIG princess!” Laura shrieked as she jumped into her Daddy’s arms. He squeezed Laura as tight as he could without fear of hurting her and sat down in his favorite chair. Laura sat up and smiled at her Daddy.
Laura’s father was always amazed at how beautiful his daughter was. Her hair was dark like her mother’s, with little streaks of red when the sunlight hit it just right. Her hair was thick and wavy. It was just enough to give it a bounce, but not enough to give it curls. Her eyes and smile, though, were her best features. When she smiled, her eyes twinkled and he could see his own mother looking out at him. Laura didn’t understand why everyone said she looked like her grandmother. Her grandmother was old with silver hair; the skin around her eyes and lips had wrinkles. How could she look like her grandmother? But Laura’s father saw the similarity each and every time his daughter smiled.
“Laura, you do remember what we talked about last week, don’t you? About what you asked for Christmas this year?” The skin in between her Daddy’s eyebrows always wrinkled into two creases when he spoke seriously. Laura nodded her head cautiously.
“Yes, Daddy, I remember. I am not getting what I asked Santa for Christmas this year. But I am getting other presents! Right?” Laura had asked this the first time they had discussed her request to Santa Claus.
Her father laughed and replied, “I don’t know. Have you been a good girl?”
“Yes, I have! I have all ‘Outstandings’ at school. AND, I have tried to keep my room clean. AND, I help with the dishes every night. AND, Lisa says that I have been good.”
“Well, since Lisa says it, then it must be true!” He exclaimed as he through his arms up in the air. “I think there might be a few gifts for you this year.” Her father smiled. Then the creases came back once more, and he said, “Just remember what we talked about. OK?”
“I will, Daddy.” She smiled and her daddy’s heart melted as he looked at his mother’s face once more.
I am going to share for the first time to the public a very small segment from my novel. This has only been read by me, my husband and mother-in-law. It is still very much in the first drafting phrase. When I began this story five years ago my idea was to have it be completely told through a child's eyes. But in the last few weeks, my writing has a taken a turn. I have had very vivid dreams about some of the other characters in the family who are not children. And their stories are not necessarily children friendly - so I'm not sure how this will all pull together. Or maybe I'm looking at more than one book. Who knows. But anyway, this segment is from a child's point of view.
Laura Kenshaw’s mother would not have a problem leading Laura to bed tonight. Laura Kenshaw was 6-years old. She was an active child, full of energy and curiosity. Every night at 8:30, Laura’s mother would declare, “Bed time!”
“Mommy, I don’t want to go to bed; I just got the game set up! Lisa and I were going to play Monopoly!”
“That will have to wait until tomorrow, Sweetie. Why don’t you tell Lisa goodnight.”
And thus, the “bedtime meltdown,” as Laura’s father had coined it, would begin. Laura would throw a fit. She would declare that it was not fair she had to go to bed when she was not tired. Laura’s mother would not raise her voice. She would simply state, “Little girls need their rest.” This always made Laura mad. Her hands would curl up into fists and she would say with her jaw clenched, “I am not little.” Laura was in Kindergarten. She could spell out her name. She was not little anymore. But her mother never replied to this. She would simply look at Laura and raise her eyebrows. Laura would try to stand her ground, but she knew it was no use. She would then march off to her bedroom in defeat. Once Laura climbed up in her four poster bed with her favorite purple quilt, she would usually realize she was more tired than she had thought. But she would never let her mother know.
“Let’s see, where did we leave off?” Laura’s mother would ask as she picked up the worn book from the nightstand. Laura and her mother liked to read books together. Laura’s mother knew the bedtime meltdown was over when Laura’s eyes would light up and she would describe, in great detail, what the characters in the book were involved in the previous night.
“Don’t you remember, Mommy? The princess was walking in the woods, and she found the evil witch’s cottage! And…”
“Oh yes, that’s right. How do you remember so well?” Her mother would clear her throat and begin, “Chapter Three. The princess…”
The last thing Laura would remember, before she could not keep her eyes open one more second, would be her mother’s voice saying, “Good night little princess. I love you.” Laura would be too tired to protest the ‘little.’
But tonight was different. Tonight there would be no bedtime meltdown. In fact, it was only 8:00, and Laura had already changed into her pajamas. Tonight was a special night. Although Laura loved to stay up late, she knew that the sooner she went to bed, the sooner tomorrow would arrive. And tomorrow was the day that Laura looked forward to all year. In fact, it was probably the day most little girls and boys looked forward to. But Laura had a special reason for wishing for tomorrow. Tomorrow was the one of the few days of the year she would be around the whole family at Grandma’s house! Tomorrow was Christmas Day.
“Laura, what are you doing in pajamas?” Laura’s father asked. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with tomorrow would it? You’re not looking forward to Christmas are you?” Laura giggled as she looked up into her father’s eyes. “Come here, you little princess! I mean, excuse me – BIG princess!” Laura shrieked as she jumped into her Daddy’s arms. He squeezed Laura as tight as he could without fear of hurting her and sat down in his favorite chair. Laura sat up and smiled at her Daddy.
Laura’s father was always amazed at how beautiful his daughter was. Her hair was dark like her mother’s, with little streaks of red when the sunlight hit it just right. Her hair was thick and wavy. It was just enough to give it a bounce, but not enough to give it curls. Her eyes and smile, though, were her best features. When she smiled, her eyes twinkled and he could see his own mother looking out at him. Laura didn’t understand why everyone said she looked like her grandmother. Her grandmother was old with silver hair; the skin around her eyes and lips had wrinkles. How could she look like her grandmother? But Laura’s father saw the similarity each and every time his daughter smiled.
“Laura, you do remember what we talked about last week, don’t you? About what you asked for Christmas this year?” The skin in between her Daddy’s eyebrows always wrinkled into two creases when he spoke seriously. Laura nodded her head cautiously.
“Yes, Daddy, I remember. I am not getting what I asked Santa for Christmas this year. But I am getting other presents! Right?” Laura had asked this the first time they had discussed her request to Santa Claus.
Her father laughed and replied, “I don’t know. Have you been a good girl?”
“Yes, I have! I have all ‘Outstandings’ at school. AND, I have tried to keep my room clean. AND, I help with the dishes every night. AND, Lisa says that I have been good.”
“Well, since Lisa says it, then it must be true!” He exclaimed as he through his arms up in the air. “I think there might be a few gifts for you this year.” Her father smiled. Then the creases came back once more, and he said, “Just remember what we talked about. OK?”
“I will, Daddy.” She smiled and her daddy’s heart melted as he looked at his mother’s face once more.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
My Imaginary Family
I found myself one Saturday afternoon bored out of my mind. Often when I'm bored, I start finding things to organize. It is a hobby (or obsession, depending on who you ask) of mine. So I started rummaging through my closet. I found a stack of journals that were completely filled with my own jagged-edged handwriting. I love journaling. I find my mind opens up the most when I am alone with a journal, a cup of coffee, and a good pen. The fun in writing your thoughts down is reading them years down the road. It is usually quite interesting and sometimes comical to see what you were thinking, dreaming and talking about a year or even five years ago. So naturally I started flipping through theis stack of journals. Most of my entries were from high school and early college. They were all about boys, depression and skipping class because I was out late - again. There was one journal that seemed out of place. First of all, it was a notebook someone in junior high would probably pick out - purple and sparkly. Secondly, it was not filled with journal entries. It was filled, instead with a family tree - a made-up family tree to be exact.
In one moment, I was transported back to when I was 12 and my grandmother had come to visit us. Being an only child and living 3 states away from my extended family, I always desired to have a big family. My grandmother loves genealogy and she was showing me all about family trees. I became so interested, that, with her help, I wrote down my own future family tree. I decided how many children I would have, what their names would be and when they would be born. I didn't stop there, though. I also decided who my children's children would be. I even had a year-by-year outline of ages, births, school grades, and marriages. I was completely enthralled with my own detailed account of my fake, future family.
On that boring Saturday afternoon, I uncovered an idea for a novel. It was all there! As I was reading through my lists of names and dates, characters started jumping off the page. The youngest grandchild was an only child and she, like myself, would ask for a baby sister for Christmas and not get one because her mother, Sara, would not be able to have any more children. I noticed that my oldest daughter, Megan, marries much later than her younger sister. I imagined that she was the smarter of the two sisters. Megan would go off to college before she settled down. However, she would always be a little jealous of her younger sister, Natalie, who had always been the pretty one. Natalie marries right out of school and starts having children right away. I imagined she married into money and always regretted not going to college like her older sister.
And there you have it. Because of a 12-year-old's desire to have a big family, a 25-year-old discovered an idea. And now, hopefully, a 31-year-old will be able to take that idea and make it come to life.
In one moment, I was transported back to when I was 12 and my grandmother had come to visit us. Being an only child and living 3 states away from my extended family, I always desired to have a big family. My grandmother loves genealogy and she was showing me all about family trees. I became so interested, that, with her help, I wrote down my own future family tree. I decided how many children I would have, what their names would be and when they would be born. I didn't stop there, though. I also decided who my children's children would be. I even had a year-by-year outline of ages, births, school grades, and marriages. I was completely enthralled with my own detailed account of my fake, future family.
On that boring Saturday afternoon, I uncovered an idea for a novel. It was all there! As I was reading through my lists of names and dates, characters started jumping off the page. The youngest grandchild was an only child and she, like myself, would ask for a baby sister for Christmas and not get one because her mother, Sara, would not be able to have any more children. I noticed that my oldest daughter, Megan, marries much later than her younger sister. I imagined that she was the smarter of the two sisters. Megan would go off to college before she settled down. However, she would always be a little jealous of her younger sister, Natalie, who had always been the pretty one. Natalie marries right out of school and starts having children right away. I imagined she married into money and always regretted not going to college like her older sister.
And there you have it. Because of a 12-year-old's desire to have a big family, a 25-year-old discovered an idea. And now, hopefully, a 31-year-old will be able to take that idea and make it come to life.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Now What?
Now that I have made my declaration to write, what the heck am I going to write about? I have absolutely no idea. I guess I'll just start with me. Isn't that where everyone begins?
I am a stay-at-home mom of a 19-month old daughter. Before I had a baby, I was a paralegal for a small plaintiff's firm. This part of my life is not very interesting and is not worth my time discussing. Having a baby, is, of course, life changing. It challenges you to prioritize your life, because, all of a sudden, you have no time for yourself. My biggest decision each day is what I will do during nap time. In the past, I haven't always used this time being productive. I am trying to change this in my life. Let me state this simply - I have been lazy. And I am tired of my laziness. I need something to do. And yes, I could spend my time making my house the cleanest on the block, but this does not excite me. In fact, I loathe housework. It is a necessity in life that will always, always be there. I hate that.
What does excite me? Analyzing people. That is immensely enjoyable. And this is what I love about literature. It is your own private peep hole into the thoughts of someone else, whether real or imagined. I am especially addicted to series. It gives the reader more time with the characters when there is more than one book involved. My problem is I crave series I have already read. I become so attached to a set of characters, that I wish to revisit them. I am currently fighting the urge to read the Harry Potter series - for the 3rd time. If only I had more time, Harry.
So what the heck am I going to write about? I still don't know the answer to this question, but at least I did not let my blinking cursor frighten me away. Maybe tomorrow some major theme will emerge and I will write some incredibly deep, enthralling entry that will resonate with our entire culture and be read by millions.
It could happen.
I am a stay-at-home mom of a 19-month old daughter. Before I had a baby, I was a paralegal for a small plaintiff's firm. This part of my life is not very interesting and is not worth my time discussing. Having a baby, is, of course, life changing. It challenges you to prioritize your life, because, all of a sudden, you have no time for yourself. My biggest decision each day is what I will do during nap time. In the past, I haven't always used this time being productive. I am trying to change this in my life. Let me state this simply - I have been lazy. And I am tired of my laziness. I need something to do. And yes, I could spend my time making my house the cleanest on the block, but this does not excite me. In fact, I loathe housework. It is a necessity in life that will always, always be there. I hate that.
What does excite me? Analyzing people. That is immensely enjoyable. And this is what I love about literature. It is your own private peep hole into the thoughts of someone else, whether real or imagined. I am especially addicted to series. It gives the reader more time with the characters when there is more than one book involved. My problem is I crave series I have already read. I become so attached to a set of characters, that I wish to revisit them. I am currently fighting the urge to read the Harry Potter series - for the 3rd time. If only I had more time, Harry.
So what the heck am I going to write about? I still don't know the answer to this question, but at least I did not let my blinking cursor frighten me away. Maybe tomorrow some major theme will emerge and I will write some incredibly deep, enthralling entry that will resonate with our entire culture and be read by millions.
It could happen.
Practice Run
Okay so I am trying to exercise my brain more - or, more precisely, to exercise my writing skills. I hesitate to even state that I have writing skills, because up to now, I haven't written anything worth sharing. But I have realized something today. I do not allow myself any freedom to explore my dreams because I am too afraid - afraid of failing, of being laughed at, of being told I have no talent, of never succeeding. I would like to make something public today - right now. I want to be a writer. I absolutely love to read. I surround myself with books. My favorite store is Barnes & Noble. My idea of a relaxing vacation is a cottage in the mountains where I could bring a stack of books and read. And so, naturally, I would like to write. Story ideas pop into my head almost on a daily basis. I have even dreamt of several stories. And I have an outline of a book I am working on right now. But I am scared to death of anyone reading what I write. And this is exactly why I have started this blog. This is my practice run. If I am serious about this dream I have of being published one day, then I need to be serious about writing. I need to turn off the TV, put down the Entertainment Weekly, log out of facebook, and write. Write every day. Write. Write. Write. So here we go...
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