“A deadline is, simply put, optimism in its most kick-ass form. It’s a potent force that, when wielded with respect, will level any obstacle in its path. This is especially true when it comes to creative pursuits.”

— Chris Baty, No Plot? No Problem!

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“I love deadlines.  I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.”

— Douglas Adams

In honor of Camp, a few quotes about deadlines.  Right now, I’m enjoying that whooshing sound, but soon, hopefully, I’ll manage to get the reins on that deadline and ride out the month.

1:07h ~ 1,116w






Hello all!  It’s been a while, so I figured it was about time to sweep out the cobwebs and get back on track with this blog.  Very brief update on the last four months of my life:

I left my nannying job at the end of December and moved from Virginia to Maryland.  Maryland didn’t work out, so at the beginning of March, I moved out to Utah.  I started a new job two weeks ago which is full-time, so there may be issues once school starts up again in June, but at least I have a job for now and it pays better than my last one.  I am very glad I decided to take the semester off because this is the first I’ve even opened my novel since I finished the zero draft back in December.

As for my novel, and the real reason I’m touching this blog again:  I finished my Zero Draft, full of typos and contradictions and plot holes galore.  I let it sit and mature and all that.  And now Camp NaNoWriMo has begun and it is time to work it up into a solid First Draft.

I will admit:  I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.

I have never once made it through an entire novel in even an attempt to revise it.  This has been my biggest struggle as a writer for a very long time and it is the number one reason I chose to do my MFA in creative writing.  Unfortunately, my studies so far have been focused on nitpicking other people’s works and the writing of my first full draft.  I feel very much on my own now that I’m in that in-between stage: I have a draft, but I’m not to the point of nitpicky editing (which is the part I’m good at).  Fortunately, to graduate I have to present a finished novel to the Powers That Be who must judge me before they deem me a worthy Master of Fine Arts, so I won’t walk away from this without learning something about revising and editing an entire novel.  However, I expect I will learn most of that through trial and error—lots and lots of error…—and a whole lot of flat-out perseverance.  I will be quite happy to be on the other side, but right now, I’m just a fish out of water.

One of my goals for the LOA (Leave of Absence), was get as much revising done on my own before I got back to working with an advisor so that I could really make the most of what he/she has to offer and so that I didn’t have to stress about revising an entire novel in two semesters or less on top of reading another 30 or so books, writing short papers for all of those, and writing 2-3 20-page papers.  My plan has been to go through it at least once and make some solid revisions, make sure the story is in order, deal with any major plot holes, who knows what else—not me, I’ve never done this before….  In any case, as a Deadline is the best way to get something done, I decided to plan the bulk of my revisions for Camp.  And here it is, we’re already nudging into Day 3 and I haven’t actually even started, but I’m committing myself now.  As the system is set to track words in order to secure your win, in order to meet the “50,000 word” goal, I have to put in 50 hours of revising this month.  I’m not sure that’s exactly accurate because when I’m actively writing (not surfing the internet for “research” or using other popular Procrastination techniques), I can comfortably write 2000 words in an hour, and therefore can write 50K words in about 25 hours, but it seems the easiest and most straightforward way to go about it, plus, the revision process is an entirely different animal.

So far, I’ve spent about 8 minutes on my novel in which I found my Zero Draft, saved it as a new draft so I have something fresh to work with, remembered my writing partner had recommended a blog post by a mutual writing friend about revising, looked for and found that post, started reading (research and preparation legitimately counts as revising…right?), then realized I had neglected my own blog and that perhaps it would help me stay motivated during Camp, and decided to write a quick post while it was on my mind.  And here I am.  If you give a mouse a cookie…  Anyway, with those 8 minutes, I’ve got in a solid 133 words toward my 50,000 word goal for the month.  I think it’s time to do dinner and go to bed so I’ll be refreshed and ready for another productive revision session before work tomorrow.

Happy writing!

0:08h ~ 133w


The End is in Sight


Light at the end of the tunnel2

Today, I determined that I can finish the Zero Draft of my book in four scenes.

That’s it.  Four scenes.

Two of them I would like to write out as much as possible, the other two I can really only outline because they will depend on details earlier in the book that I haven’t ironed out yet.  So it’s not even four full scenes, it’s two scenes and two scene outlines.

One of those scenes I’ve been “working on” for about a week now and haven’t even gotten to the meat of because I’m worried about “getting it wrong” (not that you can really get anything wrong in a zero draft…) and don’t have the drive of NaNoWriMo to push me through it.  But now that I know what’s left, now that the end is in sight, I’m hoping I can push through it and finish out by the end of this week.  That was my goal after all, to finish the zero within two weeks of the end of NaNoWriMo and now it actually looks doable.

I have lots of excuses to keep me from the page: Christmas projects I’m already behind on, the early stages of moving, work, etc.—I’m creative; I can always find more.  But it’s time to stamp out those excuses and take a little time to knock this out.  So, here I go to finish the very first full draft of my MFA thesis and my favorite book so far.  Wish me luck!


The Girl with the Corn Silk Hair


The following was a detour I took tonight on my novel because I needed a better understanding of Reynard so that I can move forward with his storyline.  It is raw and, aside from a few spelling corrections, unedited.  It will likely never be seen anywhere but here because it was solely an exercise for my benefit to prepare me for the next portion of the book and to help me through a difficult block I’ve been battling today.  I hope that tomorrow I will return to my novel with a clear mind and nimble fingers so that I can do what must be done and carry on with my thesis.


John William Waterhouse

Though the descriptions do not match, this painting by John William Waterhouse was my inspiration for this portion of the story.

The Girl with the Corn Silk Hair

They arrived at the small, coastal village of [Pentref Arfordirol] weary and crestfallen.  The war had been long and taxing and the recent losses made Reynard wonder what he was even fighting for.

He had joined the troops of Harayan two years before, right at the start of the war.  He was the son of a farmer and the excitement and honor of fighting for the kingdoms drew him more than the life he had been raised to take over, the humble life of a farmer on the edge of a small town on the northern border of the kingdom of Harayan.  He had joined with great vigor and the heavy labor of the farm life had prepared him in many ways for his duties as a soldier.  His body was toned and his mind was prepared for long hours with little immediate reward, so he fit in well with the life of a soldier, the heavy training in strength and weapons, the long days and longer marching.

He did well in his duties and served willingly, but he was not the best.  Many of the others had grown learning to fight while he had been a simple farmer, learning the ways of the land and the ways with animals.  It had been a comfortable life and he had been sorry to leave it behind, but he wanted a chance to see Zinthe and serve the kingdoms and the gods before he returned to the quiet, simple, though by no means easy life.  In a few years, when this war was one, he knew he would return to the home he had grown up in, find a bride in a nearby village, and raise sons to care for the farm after his passing while his bride would raise their daughters in other duties.

It was a pleasant thought and one he brought to mind on days when the war seemed endless and the fighting seemed pointless.  He would dream of the beautiful life that awaited him when they came out victorious.  He would return a hero, a brave soldier who had served them well.  He would be honored and respected among the villages as the other old soldiers were.  He would even some day share old war stories with the other veterans.  His new title as soldier and hero would bring him to the attention of the maidens and he would have his pick.  He wanted someone who was strong enough to stand by him through the hard times that would inevitably come during drought and other hardships of the farm, but also someone who was kind and gentle and sweet.  A girl who was as beautiful on the inside as well as the outside, because beauty would fade with time, but a kind heart and a faithful companion would last him to the end of his days until they at last moved on to the great afterlife, leaving their children to carry on their legacy as he once had for his father.  He knew it was his duty and his destiny to carry on and care for their land after his father passed because he was the only son of the kind, hardworking couple that were his parents, and he was happy to fulfill it, one day, when this war was over.

He first saw her when they came into town.  They were welcomed wholeheartedly by the villagers.  The people of this small town honored the arriving soldiers for their service and looked forward to the help they would offer in return for supporting them during their stay.  She had been only one of many men and women who came to greet them and direct them to their lodging.  Most stayed in the small inns the village supported, but some were taken in by widows and other lonely villagers who needed the help and the company.  Reynard joined William at the inn with many of the senior soldiers– they were all veterans now, though some had been so for much longer.

He only saw her for a moment in all the bustle, but her hair shone like corn silk on a summer afternoon and drew his eye.  When she turned and he saw her face, she was more beautiful than he could have hoped, the most beautiful maiden his eyes had been fortunate enough to see.  Her smile was sweet and kind as she welcomed weary soldiers into their town and homes, and then she was gone.

He watched for her, hoping she would come by again in the evening because he had missed the opportunity to speak with her, or even catch her name.  That evening, the inn was chaos as they found places for the new arrivals to sleep and sorted out the business of feeding the weary, hungry men.  Even in the bustle, he knew that he would have seen her again had she been there, but she was not.  He watched for her the following day and offered whatever help he could around town in hopes that he would come across her in so many varied tasks, but he did not.

On the third day in the village, he at last found her again.  She came to down to bring yarns from her father’s sheep for dying.  He then learned that her name was Melinda, great gods, what a blessed name, the name of highland sprite, a gift from the heavens.  He offered his assistance to her and she graciously accepted.  He found that her home was some distance from the town.  Her father was a shepherd with a number of sheep he tended out in the hills and she came into town every day or two to buy supplies or offer her wares– the finest wools in the region and some of the finer craftsmanship in knitted pieces.  Once he had found her, he offered his services exclusively to her.  He was not one to deny assistance where needed and so helped other villagers when requested, but his whole purpose was to stay with this delicate and beautiful young maiden.

After some days in the village, William spoke with him about their interactions.  He urged Reynard to confess his love for her, that if he hid it from her, then she could never reciprocate and if she held no love for him, then it was better that he know now so that he could forget his desires and stop torturing himself.  At last he did confess his feelings for her and to his delight and relief, she admitted that she felt the same for him.

After that, they were truly inseparable, enjoying the happiness and contentment and only young lovers can.  Rumors spread about them, though through the villagers and the visiting soldiers.  Reynard was happier than he could ever have dreamed that he had found such a sweet, kindhearted maid to spend his days with.  As the time passed, he could not imagine finding another he desired more to be his wife, but with the war looming over their heads, however quietly it had been lately, he feared that it would not be wise to pursue his courtship with the young Melinda.

At last the day came that he had both anticipated and dreaded.  A messenger came with orders for a portion of the men to return to the main camp to prepare for a new battle campaign.  Reynard was eager to do all that he could to finish this war so that he could return and wed his sweet Melinda, but he could not bear the thought of leaving her side.  Melinda was heartbroken when the news arrived, but she tried to hide her sorrow and fears so that her love would not return to war with a heavy heart because, while she could not bear the thought of losing him, she believed that a man should fulfill his duty, no matter how difficult.  Reynard volunteered to return to camp with many of the others, but William, taking pity on him and his sweet companion offered to go in his stead.  William convinced him that he would not be needed for this battle and that they had more than enough men to carry out the commander’s wishes.  Reynard was grateful beyond measure, though he felt pained that his friend would risk his own life so that he could remain with Melinda for a little while longer.

After at least half of the battalion marched northward to join the other companies in the main encampment, life in the small coastal town returned more or less to normal.  With fewer mouths to feed, the village felt more at least and began to prepare for the coming winter festivities.

Life with Reynard and Melinda continued as they had and they were happy, but Reynard lived with the fear that any day he might receive orders to return to the camp and fight again.  He had never doubted that he would come out of the war alive and well when the Zinthians were at last victorious so that he could have the happy life he had long dreamed of, but now that he had found the companion he wished to bring back with him to his humble farm in Harayan, he feared that the dream might not come to pass because this war was harder and longer than any of them had anticipated when they joined it.  He wished desperately to ask the gentle Melinda for her hand and dreamed of the beautiful, but simple wedding they could have here, in her home village, the celebrations of its many kind and generous inhabitants.  He thought of the children they would raise together.  He knew his mother and father would be pleased because while she was sweet and gentle, she was also strong and hardworking, which would serve them well in their long life together.  They had spoken of it in quiet whispers on evenings under the stars above the craggy cliffs on the edge of the small village.  She would be sad to leave her mother and father behind, but she was willing to make the sacrifice for their future and her skills would be greatly appreciated in the village of Reynard’s home.  They spoke of their future together in dark, hushed moments, when no other soul might hear and only the gods were witness to their promises, but they didn’t dare bring their plans to the light of day for fear that it would shatter them and take away their happiness.

Too soon, the inevitable end came.  Another messenger rode into the village with new orders for the remains of the battalion.  They were to return to the main camp at once to continue the battles.  They had regrouped and gained a foothold on the Citadel Isles– their greatest victory since the war had begun– and now was the time to attack with full force.  All the soldiers were required at the main headquarters so that the battalions could be reorganized and put to work.

The remainder of the battalion living in [Pentref Arfordirol] spend the day preparing for the journey, packing their belongings and food for the long march north, so that they could depart first thing in the morning.  Reynard and Melinda’s last night together was bittersweet and many things were left unsaid, but they confessed their love again and again as they had so many times before and prayed to the gods that Reynard would return safely soon so that they could begin their happy life together.  Before they departed, Melinda presented him with a locket her mother had given her as a child.  Inside, she had placed a small lock of her corn silk hair so that he would always remember her and be strengthened to return to her soon.  He clasped it around his neck and vowed never to take it off until they met again at last.  They said their goodbyes in the breaking light of dawn and Melinda could not restrain her tears, though she tried.  Reynard would not shed a tear, though he wished he could, because he could not leave his love more heartbroken than she already was.  He promised to return and that he would do what he must to win this war, but no more.  As the separated, Melinda watched him go, more afraid than she had been of anything in her life that he would not return and cried until she could no more.  Then she returned to her home and her work and prayed that the gods would protect her soldier, Reynard.

It took more strength to walk away from her than he had ever needed before in his life, but Reynard knew he must fulfill his duty to the kingdoms.  He rejoined his battalion for the long march north, and though many reveled in the latest victory and the coming excitement of returning to battle, he could not join in the celebration because he had left his heart and soul with the sweet little shepherdess with the corn silk hair.

Write or Die!


In honor of Day Three of NaNoWriMo, I wanted to introduce you to my 1# favorite tool for getting words down.  The free app is about halfway down the page and I use it all the time.  It gives you the option of writing to a specific word count and/or time and the level of strictness and punishment for not writing.  It’s a great way to just knock out a chunk of writing so that you get your ideas (or just words if you have no ideas) on paper and then you have something to work with later.  It’s great for NaNoWriMo and some years, most of my writing was done with the online app while other years I just used it for a little nudge.  I hope you find it as useful as I have.  Enjoy!

Write or Die by Dr Wicked | Putting the ‘Prod’ in Productivity.