swordBeatsPaper

It’s strange how inspiration works. I’m not sure I even believe in it. I’ve heard some of the best writing has been done when the writer forces themselves to write, rather than waiting for the inspiration to come. Now that I’ve waited nearly two weeks, I think I’m finally ready to continue chapter 9 and keep rolling. I’m not exactly sure what started it, but it might have been a thought as I was commuting to school on the bus the other day. I finally figured out what should happen–at least temporarily–in a paragraph I was stuck on so I could move on past it. Later I realized; it was a paragraph that stumped me. Mind you, it was a hard hurtle to jump, but it made me think that no two paragraphs are ever created equal [eek, what bad cliches]. I just need to keep telling myself, it’s okay to write crap. You can always edit it later. Now you have to just write. I wonder if talking to yourself is a required part of being a writer. Actually, I’m sure it is. Excuse me for my rambling.

Photo: Trees at a hike when I went to Sedona, AZ. If you describe the trees as “bony” and the path beyond as “shrouded in darkness,” it would be the perfect place for some kind of evil lair. Don’t worry! I won’t stay in Arizona for long with my pictures. With luck, I’ll take some good shots in San Francisco this weekend. Hopefully at least one.

I’ve started an exercise mentioned by the book The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron, called “morning pages.” After you wake up, the first thing you do is write three pages (on paper, but I’m modifying it and doing it on the computer). Spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc. don’t matter, and if you write “I don’t know what to write,” for three pages, that’s fine. Of course, nobody wants to be that monotonous (at least I don’t). You can use it to write angry, fearful, worrying things if you want, and it helps to get them out of your head. It leaves room to be more creative, and she says that anyone can do it and it can help in their lives. She said after writing these pages for a while, a character decided to show up and she began writing about him. Sometimes I feel like it’s pointless, but that’s my inner critic again. I believe anyone (even you!) can do this, and to me it makes me feel good, like I’ve accomplished something that day already. Just a thought.

Photo: This is a picture of cave walls found at Tonto National Bridge State Park, AZ. The shapes amaze me! It looks like globs of goo, but they’re hard as rock.

Amazingly, I’ve nearly made it to chapter 9. I have to fight the twin demons of procrastination and… procrastination… to get here, but when I sit down and make myself stick my flash drive in my computer and open the document, I realize it’s really not as hard as I tell myself it is. After I get past my mental critic (it sucks, no publisher will pick it up, your dreams are too big), things just flow. I began, after my last session with my writing tutor, to have a goal of 1500 words a week, and realized that I could write much more, so I upped it to 2000. I surprised myself this weekend, writing all 2000 words within two hours, in one sitting, at a Peet’s coffee shop in Seattle. All I have to do is take away the distractions. I enjoyed how there wasn’t much music in that Peet’s coffee–I concentrated more than I have in most Starbucks. And with my mom across the street at her harp lesson, I was distraction-free. I feel powerful and focused when I’m in that “writing zone,” and nothing except my own self-determination can get me there. But a mug of hot tea always helps.

Photo: Part of a statue/sculpture in Sedona, AZ, where I went for my birthday (around turkey day) last year. I’ll try to blog more often… hopefully once a week… I know its been a while since my last post. (I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot lately.)

Thanks to the gathering of my ideas, a great writing mentor (Thank you Katherine!), and squeezing in free time, I finally feel like I can say I’m writing a novel. It’s such a strange feeling, and I have no clue how it all will work out, but I have dreams of being right up there with Robert Jordan and Terry Brooks. I could venture to say it will be a trilogy, but who knows! Now, I’ll be story journaling and plotting till my head hurts. Time for a hot mug of green tea and leftover Halloween candy!

Photo: Meet Midnight, the kitty who warms my lap while I write. She’s the cutest cat I’ve ever seen, and I love her to bits.

I find the solitude of looking at mountains in chilly air quite refreshing. On the way to eastern washington this past weekend we visited a rest stop with a spectacular view. For the first time I saw jagged mountain peaks and stark grey, mossy trees. I could truly imagine the countless fantasy stories I’ve read happening here, and I’m sure that now, whenever “jagged peaks” shows up in a story, I’ll think of this place. Plenty of photagraphers lined the path up here, taking snapshots of the pristine peaks, and it made me think of my photography class coming up in the fall at BCC. That day, the exact day we found this place, I had recieved a classic film camera, ready for my black-and-white photography class. Alas, I had no film. Next time we go to this place, I’ll know more about photography, and will be able to take more amazing shots.

Photo: A picture I took while at this viewpoint. My camera almost died, this was the second to last picture it was able to take. Exactly why manual cameras are better!

I’m moving again. I can’t seem to stay in one place very long–I don’t even think I’ve stayed in the same school for more than 2 years. Of course, it’s mostly been in the same district, that only changed once. I’m sad about leaving certain things here on Whidbey, but overall I think I’m ready to go. Something’s calling me over at Bellevue Community College, and in Lynnwood where our house will be. I’m hoping our house will sell, but because of the market right now, we might have to rent it. I’ve met many memorable people, and most of them I won’t forget. Quite a few have changed my life. Moving feels like shedding an old skin. It’s definitely served me well, but it’s time for a change. Many people’s lives are changing right now, and that only emphasizes that this is the time to do it. Time to be more independent for me! And, to think about what it is I really like to do. Seeing these pictures I’ve saved on my computer makes me excited about a class I’m having this coming quarter at BCC–basic photography! Those ol’ black and white photos. [My thoughts are a bit scattered, I’m afraid my post is too.]

Photo: I took this in 2005 when we had snow in December. I was surprised at how detailed this frosty picture ended up! Just looking at it gives me a break from these warm summer months, and makes me think about the cool months ahead. What will my life be like in the fall?

New writing projects can be frustrating, especially when you’re unsure whether you bit off more than you could chew. I’m plotting a story, potentially more than one book long, but any details I might want to work out crumble in my fingers when I try to grasp them. Ooh, I must be hungry with all these food analogies. But knowing how much to plot and plan beforehand is hard for me, and my story could go in so many directions. I try to read interviews with authors to see what they recommend, but none of them, understandably, know where their ideas come from. I must brood on this subject…

Photo: Westminster Abbey on a typical spring day in London. Picturesque, to say the least. :]

Music has always made me smile. Right now, out my window, I’m suddenly hearing a harmonica played somewhere in the neighborhood. I am happily surprised when this happens, especially when my mom is playing the classical radio station and I suddenly hear a bassoon. Now that we have plans to move this summer, I am incredibly sad to leave the place where I learned to play the bassoon. My instructor and fellow musicians on Whidbey have been wonderful to learn from and play with. I thought about this as I rehearsed Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest in band today for the concert tomorrow night. I suppose it’s time for another big change in my life, but I won’t stop playing the bassoon if I can help it. I may have stopped my piano lessons, but I don’t plan to stop learning about this most incredible wind instrument.

Photo: Can you see the bassoons in the middle, with the cute Japanese tourists behind the fence? Taken in London at Buckingham Palace during the changing of the guard.

I had a dream a few weeks ago that I was racing a horse at a fair, and at one point I couldn’t get it to stop, so it went out of the fair and into a city. I eventually had to stop at an intersection on the sidewalk and ask for directions. I wonder if this predicted my feelings about Running Start and different community college possibilities. I am so confused as to where I should go: Bellevue or Edmonds Community College? There was nothing online to tell me which was better. Just today I decided on Edmonds, but they are so similar. I am thinking of a Computer Science major, but I don’t know if that’s the best choice for me yet. I’m realizing you really have to decide what you want to do and work really hard at getting what you want. It’s a long process… a long, tedious, stressful process, especially if you don’t trust that things will work out.

Photo: A bridge in San Francisco, taken when I was there last year. I love SF, I need to go back someday soon!

I enjoy writing stories, but I appreciate people reading my work even more. The other day I read an interview with Philip Pullman, author of the His Dark Materials series, The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass. They’re quite intriguing if you’ve never read them. One of his comments struck me, about sharing his work. He never shows anyone what he’s writing, until he’s completely finished. He compared sharing his work with explaining a dream, saying, “You know what it’s like when you try and tell someone what your dream is like? It’s so boring because it evaporates in the telling somehow.” I realized that this is true for me when I explain my writing, that the sense of awe, wonder, or terror I want to get across never comes out right. Perhaps I can stay with one writing project longer if I don’t try to explain it.

Photo: Half of a crab shell that I found on Mukilteo Beach. I wonder how it stayed intact?