Raise a Glass to Turnings of the Season

[ATTENTION: This post has almost nothing at all to do with writing. I know. It's weird. I sometimes forget I have ordinary human things in my life, too. But hang in there, and don't judge me too fiercely. I'll go back to being strictly writerly in my next post.]

Oklahoma doesn't get blizzards. Ever.

Except lately.

The last week and a half have felt remarkably like living in the Arctic tundra, or in Narnia, or maybe on a wintry frontier. We had eighteen inches of snow with the first bout last Monday, then an additional four or five inches a few days later, and then today, about four more. This would not be a big deal if we were (like so many other places who had blizzards) a city who knew what to do with snow, but as it happens, Oklahoma is decidedly unprepared for any accumulation beyond two inches. The consequence? Most everyone I know has spent the last eight days caved up in their houses like bears, or hiking cross-country in full Eskimo gear, desperate for some social contact--or just bread and milk.

I've spent the larger part of those eight days working on my WIP (50,000 words! There's an allusion to writing, guys!) or exploring the frontier with my canine friend Ophelia, who turns into an arctic wolf in the snow. Here's proof:

Even if you hate cold weather with all the molecules of your being (like me), it's hard to resist a dog who has this much fun outside. But I'll be one glad little sparrow when Spring arrives.

And speaking of Spring...

I went to see the Decemberists play in Kansas City on Monday. It was unequivocally brilliant (of course), and their new album, The King is Dead--rather more subtle than some of their others--comes at an appropriate time, as one of its primary themes is the changing of the seasons. The first song on the album makes me itch for spring so badly I am tempted to march out into the waist-deep snow on my balcony and start planting petunias.

The lyrics are as follows:

Here we come to a turning of the season
Witness to the arc towards the sun
A neighbor's blessed burden within reason
Becomes a burden borne of all and one

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yolk fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

A monument to build beneath the arbors
Upon a plinth that towers t'wards the trees
Let every vessel pitching hard to starboard
Lay its head on summer's freckled knees*

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yolk fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

A there a wreath of trillium and ivy
Laid upon the body of a boy
Lazy will the loam come from its hiding
And return this quiet searcher to the soil

So raise a glass to turnings of the season
And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason
And your labors will be born when all is done

And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yolk fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands and holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all

(*My favorite couplet)

Here you can listen:

I'm going to go ahead and raise my glass to a turning of the seasons. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to move out into the sun again, and watch the world grow. Here's to spring... and to leaves on the trees and blossoms on the Jane Magnolias.

Bonus feature: Here's a video I snagged at the concert. If you're a Decemberists fan, you'll like it. I promise.

Etsy! Quote Mugs!

We interrupt our regular scheduled programming for a quick and exciting announcement:

I now have an Etsy shop!  Click here to visit it!

I've been painting quotes and designs on coffee mugs to sell at various art and craft shows for the last two years, but only this week did I finally decide to join the Etsy community.  Of course, my timing was terrible, because we're cutting it awfully close to Christmas with shipping, but all the same... I thought I'd let all you wonderful people know anyway.

Here are a few of the mugs I'm selling:

 

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I'll be posting more throughout December and into the new year, so stay tuned.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all!  And best of luck getting all your last-minute shopping done...

December, Baby... And a Juicy Confession.

Oh! Hey!

It's been precisely one month since I last set foot in the Blogosphere: a month which managed to feel simultaneously lightning-fast and neverending. How was your November? I've missed you.

For those of you who NaNoWriMo'd it up this month, how did you fare? Did you finish, and did you have fun? Here comes my juicy confession...

About two weeks into November, as I was plugging along on my truly terrible story, I came unexpectedly to a crossroads. As many of you know, I had been planning to host a Harry Potter Party the night before Deathly Hallows premiered on November 18. But in my mental preparations for said party, I somehow managed to overlook the fact that I have abysmal time-management skills, and that the party would fall right Smack Dab in the middle of NaNoWriMo.

Well.

The party was fast approaching when I came to the crossroads. I had done very little to prepare for the Potter revelries, and my novel was--as I mentioned--supremely awful and failing to hold me in its thrall. So one morning as I was scowling at my computer and wishing I were writing something else, I looked desperately away from the screen in search of inspiration... and my eyes fell on my calendar.

As you may have deduced, it was not inspiration I found there. It was a fact that caused me to jump up from my chair and seize my hair by the roots. I had, I realized, exactly five days before people began to show up at my apartment dressed as witches and wizards, ready for what I'd assured them would be a truly awesome Harry Potter Party. And I had done virtually nothing to prepare for it.

So here was the crossroads: Awesome Harry Potter Party or Completed Miserable NaNo Novel?

The fact that I was suffering from a severe case of Potter Mania did nothing to aid the case for my NaNo book, I'm afraid. And so, gritting my teeth against the shame and horror of losing this year's NaNoWriMo, I nodded firmly at the Harry in my head and closed my Word Document with an ominous, echoing CLICK.

The result? A truly spectacular Harry Potter Party, and a truly unfinished NaNoWriMo novel. Epic success, and epic failure in one. But let's not dwell on the failure. Instead, I'll show you some pictures from the Potter Party.

My sister-in-law, Kelsey, as Hermione Granger.
(Who, incidentally, participated in and WON her very first NaNoWriMo ever. First novel for this History major. I couldn't be more proud.)

My roommate, Emily, and myself: Nymphadora Tonks and Ginny Weasely respectively.

My brother, Jordan, or, Draco Malfoy.

My friend and co-worker Desirea: Bellatrix Lestrange.

Of course, it is rather strange that Draco and Hermione would be married...

Dueling club.

Those of us who snagged Imax tickets. My friend Katie and her fiance, Norris, were

Professor McGonagall and Bill Weasely.

Overall, it was a wonderful, nerdy success, made even better by the facts that a.) the movie was FABULOUS, and b.) my pals and I made the Tulsa news. So geeky and so awesome, don't you think?

Here's the link to our interview. Celebrities, I know.

Tell me about your November! I'll be wading my way back into your blogs, but I want to hear it from you all the same. NaNo adventures? Harry Potter fun? Thanksgiving wonders? Happy December. It's lovely to be back.

Look in Thy Heart and Write

A few quick things.

1.) It is September!  I don't love fall as much as spring on principle (winter inevitably follows fall, and I hate winter), but I have to admit that I'm giddy with the approach of autumn this year.  Crisp weather.  Apple pastries.  Pumpkins.  Jazz music.  Tea.  Mmmm.  So let's celebrate September!

2.) I've got some serious tunnel-vision at the moment--due to my own self-enforced revision deadline--but I wanted to break out of it for a moment to share a quote that has endlessly inspired me over the years.

"Biting my trewand pen, 

beating myself for spite,

'Fool,' said my Muse to me, 

'Look in thy heart and write!'"

-Sir Philip Sidney


I don't know what you're up to today, or this week, or this freshly-minted September, but if you're working on anything that isn't slipping onto the page as easily as an oily fish, I hope you'll take Sidney's Muse's advice.  Today, tomorrow, whenever you find time to work on that little chunk of your soul that you've translated into words and plunked line by line onto the page, I hope you'll look in thy heart and write.  Because that is, of course, where the best of our work comes from.  It's so obvious, and yet so easy to forget.   

Happy Thursday, dear Reader, and Happy September!

Don't Hunt Horcruxes and Drive

Dear Reader: If you are considering listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on audiobook in your car, I must warn you... you should probably not. Especially if you're driving within a city. Let me explain.

If you do, you run a higher risk of getting into accidents. For one thing, your mind tends to be on Voldemort, and what could be more distracting than that high, cold voice? For another thing, your vision is almost always obscured by a thick sheen of tears--if not a veritable waterfall of them. Third, you have to mop yourself up every time you want to get out and go talk to humans (which renders any eye-makeup pointless), and not everyone has a box of Kleenex in their passenger seat. And last of all, if you have to stop at any intersections, you end up getting a lot of curious and worried looks from other drivers, because you look like this:

So, kids? Don't hunt Horcruxes and drive. Be smart. Hunt them in the safety and cry-proof security of your own home. And don't forget to vote: Potter for President.

Credit Where Credit is Due, or The New House

I don't know where I've been all these months of my blogging existence.  Under a virtual rock, evidently.  Because until last week, I had no idea what Shabby Blogs was.  Had no clue that the entire time I was pulling out my fingernails to get my Blogger template the way I liked it, a site existed just a mouse-click away that offered all the kinds of things I like as blog decoration... FOR FREE.  (Check out their blog, too.  It's as beautiful as everything they offer.)



And, what's more, Shabby Blogs lead me to another site which exists purely for the editing and decorating of photos.  FOR FREE.  Fotoflexer.com.  This was another brilliant revelation for me.  Maybe I'll stop lurking under my rock.  It seems that the virtual world is full of wonders.

After much deliberation over my selections, I have redecorated this place so that it fits my tastes, and feels more like home.  Of course, even moving into a home decorated the way you like it feels strange at first, because nothing is familiar.  So, it will take some getting used to.  But I like the results.  My template is called "French Flea Market".  (Just like when I buy paint, I find it difficult to resist something with a good name.)

So, welcome to my open house!  Have a look around, pour yourself a glass of French wine, and stay awhile.  It's lovely to have you here.  

Star Wars Day

Okay, I can't get over this. Today is Star Wars Day. Why? Because it's May the 4th. May the Fourth...

May the Fourth be with you.

Seriously. And I can't stop laughing. Awesome.

So, happy Star Wars Day. And may the fourth be with you.

Blogfest, May Day, and Foxes

To begin with, today is Lilah Pierce's Last Lines Blogfest. Check out this link to her post today, and you'll have access to the list of all who are participating. (A gold-mine of last lines--from novels and short stories alike.)

Following these rules...

Sign up below, pull out your favorite ending, and post it to your blog on May 1st. Entries do not have to be last lines only, it is understandable that a build-up may be necessary. I'd say that the previous 25 lines would be a reasonable length. It also does not matter if the last line is for a scene, chapter, or book, just as long as you wrote it. And lastly, don't forget to spread the word! The more people that participate, the more fun the blogfest is!

...I am posting my entry below. These are the last lines from EPHEMERAL, my Beauty & the Beast re-write:


“Yseult!” he cries, incredulous.

“If you can catch me,” I yell over my shoulder, “I’ll marry you whenever you want. But I don’t think you have a chance against me now that you’re human again!”

I am laughing riotously as I fly down the steps toward the open forest. I hear his footsteps behind me, and I remember the first time we raced. It was exhilarating then, just as it is now.

The autumn grass is beneath my feet; slightly brown, crunching as I run. The leaves are falling in the forest, red, orange, and plum. They spin lazily down around me, their pace countering my own light speed. I am smiling so broadly it hurts, but I cannot stop. Behind me, René is laughing like a boy playing chase.

We are young, we are children, but I will let him catch me.

I’ll let him catch me for love, and for change.

When I reach a little clearing in the trees, I turn around to face him, feeling the sunlight on my back like gold. He is running toward me with the light on his face, smiling, radiant with love.

He is running toward me, and a happy tear escapes my eye. I smile at him, my own ephemeral beauty, and skip forward to meet him.


The End.


In other news, it is May Day. Happy May Day! Today is the perfect day to read Corinna's Going A-Maying, by Robert Herrick--one of my favorite springtime poems. (Click here for the pleasure.) Today is also a good day to leave a basket of flowers on someone's doorstep, and then run for it. You might just make their (May) day!

Lastly:

A few moments ago there was a fox at the intersection of my street and the next. He was just sitting there, looking from right to left, as if debating which way to turn. In the end he decided to go left, and continued down Main street at a trot; undoubtedly on his way to some fantastic party. It's nice to see foxes in the city. I always give them a little nod, as if to say: Good. Keep Foxing.



To cap off this May Day morning, there is now a rainbow in the west, where a moment ago there were only angry clouds. Happy Saturday, all! I hope your day is full of beautiful Last Lines, unexpected foxes, and triumphant rainbows.

Death by Computer Screen

Once upon a time, somewhere in the wide world, someone signed me up for Women's Health Magazine.

I still haven't the foggiest idea who.

But nevertheless, the magazine comes to my mailbox once a month, and once a month I sit down at the table with a bowl of something expressly unhealthy, and thumb through it. I'm usually mildly interested in what I find, and sometimes even inspired by it--though heaven forbid I should ever be so inspired as to forfeit my frozen pizza addiction.

This month, though, was different. This month I came face to face with my fate.

And that was this: I am bound to die at a young age, but mercifully live the whole of my short life free of Type-2 Diabetes.

Because, according to Women's Health, there is "approximately a 25 percent decrease in the risk of developing Type-2 Diabetes if you drink three or four cups of coffee each day".

*Loud, whooping cheer*

And yet.

I learned that I shouldn't get too excited.

Because I soon discovered that there is an "18 percent increase in your risk of early death from heart disease for each hour you typically spend in front of a computer every day".

Now, assuming Women's Health really knows its stuff, I'm not the only one who's doomed. Writers across the world had better be saying their farewells, because 18 percent per hour is a pretty heavy sentence for anyone who has ever written more than 50,000 words. (I'm wondering how that adds up. Would that be 36 percent for every two hours? Or does the math translate differently? I've never been much of a numbers girl.)

I suppose I should be dying any minute now. And probably, so should you. But at least we'll die with the freedom to eat sugar.

In other news, Ophelia's eyes are getting distinctly more crossed. Not that it makes her any less lovable, but it is increasingly difficult to tell what direction she's looking. Canine corrective lenses?

My Queries are Acts of Insanity

Why, I wonder, do I query in the time I've set aside specifically to work on the new MS? Why, when I have told myself firmly that I will wait until the 27th, when I have learned the results of the ABNA semifinalists selection?

And yet, the last time this happened, said queried agent requested a partial. Therefore, I have to wonder: is Insanity the best frame of mind to query from?

Now, for instance. I've just sent out another. Not because I couldn't wait--though feeling restrained from forward motion does take its toll--but rather because I felt irresistibly compelled, just like last time, to query this specific agent, and query her NOW. Reasonably, I know I'm not really losing my mind, but sometimes, irrationally, I begin to doubt.

Do other people query from clear-headed states? From the coolness of a well-trained mind, and taut self-control? Or do other writers suffer this same compulsive habit, much like a dieter lunging for a doughnut at the precise moment they had planned to be getting on the treadmill?

I've now lost an hour of planned writing. Planned treadmilling. But I'm done with doughnuts for now. Definitely until after the 27th. I'd better go refill the coffee cup and get down to business.

Chapter One: Why I Like Tea and Scones When it Rains

Okay, so I'm not jumping right in to the writing autobiography. Mostly because I only have about ten minutes until the scones are done, and that isn't enough time to document the long, tumultuous story of how Just Hanna became Hanna the Aspiring Author.

What I want to say now is only that, today, on my day off, I am experiencing a state of elevated bliss which can only be achieved through the presence of these specific elements:

- A steady downpour outside, fully visible through a balcony window.
- Jazz music.
- Goldish lamplight.
- The promise of a good book and a good movie, for later.
- A dog and a cat with sleepy afternoon expressions.
- The smell of raisin scones and Irish breakfast tea, shortly to be served with clotted cream and blackberry jam.

For some reason, dismal weather seems to positively scream "Tea and Scones" to me. Maybe this is because their native environment is prone to being grey and rainy, or maybe it's just a result of my having had a PERFECT tea once upon a time on a rainy day in Salisbury.

[Sidenote: don't you think "grey" spelled with an "e" should be applied to things like skies, and rain, and clouds, and oceans, whereas "gray" with an "a" should be reserved for eyes, fabrics, and all things Tolkien-elvish?]

All this is to say that, despite the fact that I currently have a deceased Rosemary topiary slumped in my kitchen sink, I am having an absolutely top-notch day off.