Incarnate Treasure Hunt Pimpage

You would have SO MUCH FUN doing this, the winning of bookish prizes would just be icing on the cake . . . creamy, dreamy, extra-scream-y icing.

Ten pages in which to fall in love.

"Courage does not always roar. sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow." - Mary Anne Radmacher.

You want a great reminder of this sentiment? Read about Eeyore. Yes, he's often portrayed as the storm-cloud cynic of the group, and I suppose when one compares him to a simple bear like Pooh, or a bouncy Tigger, or even a small pig who refuses to give up hope in things, yes, Eeyore certainly seems the pessimist of the group. Except . . . for all his misgivings about the present--lost tail, demolished house, people forgetting his birthday--he never seems to resent his hardships, and furthermore, he doesn't carry his troubles with him into the future. Every day is a new day for Eeyore. His courage stems from waking every morning undefeated, no matted what the day before held (or didn't hold) for him. That's my favorite thing about Eeyore; that and his AWESOME taste in skyscapes.

So, the ten pages? I have to write/edit/adapt them in the next sixty hours or so, and my courage will have to come into play as a person who's pretty sure these pages will fall far short of her hope for them, but is willing to take a stab at it, anyway. Besides, if they're awful to begin with, I can only make them better, right?  And added to my quiet courage voice, I've got wingwomen to adventure along with me, as I will with them. How can I fail with WINGWOMEN?

Ten pages, ten pages I'll write in the next sixty hours, that--when read--soften the reader's heart toward a certain boy, because they see how soft his heart has become regarding a certain girl. There will be star-gazing, Shakespeare references, sharing of sanctuaries, and most of all, falling a little further in love.

Personal Note: The weather here in The Deep South has been rather warm and humid of late. Know why? Because all of the cold in IN. MY. BOOOOOOOOOOOOONEEEEEEEES!  Seriously, it's seventy degrees, but I've been cold for two days straight.

Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge

First off, get thee hence to Fake Plastic Souks and read Alexander McNabb's newest post, titled "How to Write  a Book", in which he managed to make a very long, complicated process seem rather simple, if one is just willing to devote themselves to observing what I think of as "the in between times".

Also, he gives you lots of terms to Google. Honestly, in some ways it's like a freaking college course syllabus.

Also, also? I have no idea what a is a souk. I'll have to Google it.

Now, onto my own post. Things are occurring 'round here. Helpful, YAY! sorts of things. Some of them are helping in The Lifting of the Spirits, while others are helpful in the Getting Done of Stuff Put Off For Far Too Long.  I know, I know, all vague and completely not truly informative, but sometimes that what you get.

One thing I'll mention is this . . . well, actually, come to think, it's more akin to two things, but anyway! Last week, Amazing (husband) and I spent a painful amount of time cleaning out and reorganizing our bedroom and closet. I'm surprised we didn't get adopted by some the Gorgs due to our massively impressive, possibly sentient Trash Heap collected afterward. In the ensuing pushing and pulling of What Was Left, I ended up with a very charming new little writing nook. Wall-o-Books to one side, lamp to the other, cushy stool to sit on, and the bed about two and a half feet behind. Very nook-ish, which is great because I'm not that much a fan of wide open spaces. I like cubbies.

Also included in What Was Left were about three full Early Drafts of The Novel; big, inflated versions no one should ever see, and which I cut to ribbons several times. Guess what? If you go back and scratch out, or find the matching file and strike out or delete all the stuff you've adapted or used elsewhere, it's kind of easy to find those one-liner gems, or that particularly fine turn of phrase you hated to see go, but which you couldn't justify keeping, and sometimes, they're perfect for adding  something your current draft lacks. (*pant, pant*--long sentence!)

See, your mom was right. Keeping your room clean is all kinds of helpful.

Personal Note: The Gunstringer hates me.