Words and Jazz

I've always wanted to be really good at playing the piano.  Good.  Like, throw out a few bars of Beethoven-good.  The keyboard above has been in my possession more than eleven years now.  My husband bought it for me a couple of days after we married; he still loves to indulge me in my creative endeavors.  

My keyboard sits downstairs on a table, played somewhat by my husband and tinkered with by my kids.  The three year old loves hitting the demo button and dancing to all the snippets of music thrown about.  But I don't play.  I want to be good.  Immediately.  Unrealistically.

This problem with realism hasn't filtered through to my writing.  Instead, I'm a little too ruthless when it comes to getting it right.  I'm homicidal when something's not working to my liking and the trunk novels are piling up.  They aren't "there" yet.  But I'm not putting my laptop on a desk somewhere and leaving it sit for eleven years.  I'm not expecting to write like yet.  I'm not even going to write like some of the talented and rising soon-to-be authors I've encountered over the last couple of years.  I'm going to write like me.  And keep going until I can stand up with the rest of them.   

NaNoWriMo is days away from starting and my outline is done, character's are a little less blob like.  I'm excited to be working on a more sci-fi oriented idea. 

I've got my cool NaNo tote to protect my laptop when I slosh through late autumn in Western Washington.  I've got Scrivener 2.0 downloaded and already being the efficient organizing and writing program it is. (Only used for free by me until Literature and Latte give me a buy button to clicky)  I've got at least 2 boxes of K-cups in various flavors so I can avoid a distracting run to the local espresso stand.  Well, some of them anyway. 

Ending my post with another piano mention: tonight is Word Jazz in the Snoqualmie Valley and I'm eager to cheer on my fellow peeps in our terrific writer's group.  They've got a million times more guts than I do for getting behind a mic and reading 2,000 words.  Out loud.  In public.  *Thud* 

Distracted by summer...

I had no idea I’d be distracted by summer.  And yet, that’s exactly what happened.  I squeaked out one post right around when summer began and then… nothing.

That’s not to say I haven’t been writing.  I have.  Several different things, in fact.  A short story, I’m still not-so-patiently waiting to hear the results of, is one thing I spent the month of July working on.  Another short story, the shortest I’ve written, is being included in a journal my awesome local writing group is producing. 

But I’ve been taking the time to think.  To plot.  To read more in areas I’m not usually interested in.  To research. 

And I went on vacation.  A much needed one. 

Here it is, somehow Octoberish.  I’ve decided to do NaNoWriMo again, making this my third year.  I love the goal, the camaraderie, the planning.  And that I will have something to say.