And, on occasion, I contribute to the wonderful writing community over at Scribbler’s Cove >> so be sure to check them out if you have an inclination toward the art of the written lie.

Enjoy!

I’ve shied away from doing this in the past, worried about the quality of my writing when written in a short space of time, but this year I’m doing it. Here’s why I hope it will be successful:

1. I used a novel idea I already had stirring in my head for some time, so the big-picture decisions were pretty well made
2. I used the week leading up to November to install a new writing program (since my old one didn’t work on my new laptop and I had been lazy about that), finalize character sketches, scene outlines and setting details, as well as dress up as a witch. Well that last part probably didn’t help my success, but who knows?
3. I know a handful of other writers doing NaNo. I have that silly irrational competitive streak and a little pressure to keep up helps me. though I realize that I’m really in competition with meself.
4. I’m doing all my writing NOT in the family area where my main computer is, but up in my room on my mini-laptop, which is a boring enough place and small enough screen to keep me focused on the words. I wrote my first novel mainly at a coffee shop, but I didn’t want the extra calories or the pocketbook squeeze this round.
5. I’m ignoring the state of my home and children. Okay I can’t really ignore the kids, but I did get a few extra Netflix movies I knew they would like, and so I’m armed if and when I get desperate.
6. This month only requires a ROUGH draft. Not a ready-to-mail shiny piece of work.
7. I’m taking it one day at a time. If, in the end, I don’t have the full amount, I will still rejoice about whatever I do have. He-eyy!

I’m doing NaNo with my daughter, which is fun! If you or someone you know is a minor author (in age, not in value!) then check out the Young Writer’s Program, set your own word count goal, and write, write, write!

Enjoy!

P.S. Fun trivia: I just checked the site, and current stats have Seattle (my region) as second only to the whole of Germany in total word count. And, Seattle is several spots ahead of both LA and NY. Kind of a surprise. Does Seattle have a lot of writers, or just a lot of out-of-work idealists?

See:

I keep noticing something, as we see these rather unearthly structures and vegetation and all-around ruggedity. “Wow!” I thinks to meself, “This should be in my next book.”

But the next thought is quite often this: “Hmm, doesn’t this remind me of something?” And in this context, something means some story…

Like the natural hot springs, steam vents and geysers reminded me a bit of the Bog of Eternal Stench from Labyrinth, while the strange fields of low-growing greyish shrubs are obviously snide fields from my favorite Dr. Seuss story.*

So, while I am perhaps not the first writer to want to include Yellowstone’s wonders in my fiction, I’m at least among good friends this week.

Truly, it’s all been done. But never by me, and so I guess I’m okay.**

Enjoy!

* “What was I scared of?” short inside The Sneetches.
** Dark secret about being a writer — you really must have a strong, healthy opinion of yourself to believe that anyone will want to pay money just for the privilege of hearing your lies.

But here’s the rub: writers need things to write about. In other words, writers need lives.

So please excuse my meager postings this summer (and meager word counts on works in progress). I’m keeping with the line that it’s all fuel for the writer’s fire. Fires are best saved for the cold months, aren’t they?

Happy Summer!

Now go out and play… do whatever you love in the Summertime. Absolutely no guilt allowed.

Unless you’re really doing something naughty.

On the other hand, I’ve seen some very interesting (to me, anyway) pictures of writers’ writing spaces, and what they say about the author. To that idea I say: I likey! So, without further ado, I present my work desk, and some of the little mysteries that make up my writing self:

Okay! Points of interest:

1. Eyeglasses on the printer, rather than on my face, in spite of being THIS CLOSE to me. I guess I’m determined to be blind. Note that they are not tucked into their case three inches away, either. I live my life in the gaps between.
2. Left corner, two phones, both probably holding unheard messages from poor people that will not get a prompt callback, while I instead plunk those noise-canceling cordless earphones onto my ears and listen to podcasts. I prefer recorded people to live people.
3. Downstage right, sustenance, need I say more? Who quits for lunch, honestly. If you stop to eat, it’s just an excuse to avoid writing. REAL WRITERS power through. (If you know me, you’ll get the irony.)
4. General paper-messiness. This comes from having research materials, idea scraps, important notices from kids’ schools and tax documents all sharing space in my head as well as my desk. Can you believe I never (knock on nice cherry wood desk) am late with my bills? I thank Quicken. Heartily.
5. Nice cherry wood desk. Better give a shout-out to my husband for this lovely desk, which matches the one in the kitchen and is so much better than I deserve. Apparently I just need more linear feet of it. By the way, I noticed several years ago that an environment with lots of speckle in, say, wallpaper or draperies made me feel less relaxed than the lovely woody, smooth surroundings you see in this pic. Thank goodness my husband built such a house for my persnickety muse. Isn’t the clutter of papers a problem? Not so much.
6. Crumpled paper towel in front of speaker. Can you say: too lazy to get a proper box of tissues during allergy season?
7. Bright white reams of paper serving as footstool for short-legged writer. I may be pathetic in so many ways, but I am determined to send out (at least during manic phases) crisp, clean, lovely copies of my work to real live industry mavens. Heaven help me.

This is a challenge to all my lovely writer friends to write me a comment with a link to your own desk photo. I want a glimpse into the genius that is you! No straightening up first, either.

See, I was tying up the last ends of Christmas shopping over at Amazon’s site. The site suggested I employ a special phrase to make my online buying easier. The suggested phrase was:

Amber’s Unusual Apparatus

Now, perhaps it’s because I see the world through the writer’s lens (which is a bit like peering through Alice’s Looking Glass) but I can’t get this wonderful, provocative phrase out of my head! I feel a picture book taking shape — but only because I refuse to write for an adult audience. Adult. You knowatimean.

Anyway, if the hustle and bustle of the holidays gets you down, just think of this magical phrase and everything will seem a little more interesting.

Amber’s Unusual Apparatus

Perhaps we’re fantasy writers — it could be this magical gadget:

Or if we’re talking sci-fi — how about this?

If we’re literary writers, maybe this?

Or if, as my daughter would have it, the apparatus was for animals?

That’s my gift to you, fellow bloggers, just a spark for the imagination. I think there’s nothing better.

Merry Christmas!

At the center of a busy life >>

And I used to be so good at enjoying the moments…

I miss Ultima III, the one that came on 5 1/4″ floppies. The one where you were just a tiny figure moving about the landscape, talking in the towns and fighting in the woods. I loved saying “join me” to people and delighted when they said they would join my motley crew. I liked it better than Ultima IV because you could travel all night without the darkness swallowing you. I never knew what was lurking in that darkness.

Way back, I remember being frightened of the dark greenish pages and pale green pants with nobody inside them. My imagination created a horror movie-worthy villain out of those pants. I was most alarmed when they began to cry. It only made them more horrible when they shook like that.

I even miss Hunt the Wumpus, a text-only game played on the Wang computer that sat on our dryer in the laundry room. I imagined the Wumpus — big, hairy, many-legged, dripping with yuck, lurking in the semi-darkness of one of the rooms as I played Russian roulette with the doors.

What I’m saying is, I miss imagination, even in its darkest form. But also in its most wondrous! Now, everything is visual, three-dimensional, surround-sound, neon-sign. We’ve lost the subtle shades of emotion that imagination creates.

So, I decided to make my own world for my imagination to play in. It is made up of nothing but the twenty-six western letters and ten numbers. Eventually there may be a few line drawings and a glossy cover illustration, but it’s mainly just a world in my mind.

I used to have more vivid dreams. Perhaps I’m just too tired now to have many of them. Or too grown-up. I actually miss the terror that jerked me from the dream where I’m running from “bad guys” down my dark neighborhood streets. I’m running in slow-motion, of course, screaming at my legs to MOVE, C’MON MOVE!

So I knew that it would be endlessly fun to have my imaginary playground to be a dream. A shared dream.