chicken soup Monday

Soundtrack: December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night) by The Four Seasons
Words: +100 because I cannot for the life of me write a good opening scene

Hello!

It's Monday, and a what glorious Monday it has been. Today was good.

I decided to go on a walk, not really sure where I'd end up, and found myself at the library. Okay, to tell the truth, I had planned on going to the library to pay for the book I lost (eek! I know, horrible, terrible, no good thing to do. Do not steal from libraries!). But, when I got there, I lost my nerve. Oh, and I was a bit distracted by a book sale!

The library in my town holds book sales a few times a year. All fiction is twenty-five cents, or five for a dollar. It's pretty much the best time of the year, besides Christmas :)

Anyways, I left almost an hour (and several books) later with a borrowed copy of Fallen by Lauren Kate that I can't wait to read. Next, I bought carrots, chicken and different colored pasta. Why? CHICKEN SOUP MONDAY!

I've been craving chicken soup for weeks. I have a bit of a cold and I've always believed in the healing power of good, hot food. Maybe it's a mindset thing. Whatever. If it tastes good, I'm happy.

Now, to tie this all back with a poor writing analogy!

The soup I made was good, but it wasn't great. And I think I know why. To begin with, I simmered the carrots and onions together with the chicken skins. But, in hindsight, I should've seared the meat, too. And I should've let them cook for long enough to be really delicious and crispy. I didn't push it far enough.

I think, in writing, cooking and life, you have to know where to draw the line. When things start to burn, everyone can smell it and it's time to turn off the heat. But you've got to go right to the breaking point--right to the edge--in order for the flavors to come out strong enough.

Yeah, when I said poor writing analogy, that was a major understatement.

All I wanted to say is that the first draft is all about going for it. Toss everything in pan, and watch it simmer. Even if it doesn't taste good, you can always go back and edit.

Oh yeah, and don't add your garlic too early. That's a big no-no.

Love,

Erika

here comes the rain

Soundtrack: Poison Oak by Bright Eyes
Words: +1800 on a very strange new project that... doesn't really make any sense :)

It's been raining nearly every day this week. I love the rain. When I was little, I would get so excited for night to come, just so I could lay in bed and listen to the clouds cry.

Don't even get me started on thunder storms.

But the sun has to come out eventually. That bright, brilliant ball of light breaking through the clouds and shining on a new day. For many people, it means hope and joy. Yeah, I guess so. For me, the sun coming out has always been the end of something.

I've read a lot of books and watched a lot of movies, and I don't think I will ever totally let go of the belief that anything can happen after dark. And, under cover of rain cloud, I like to think that might life could become fantastic.

Anyways. Here's hoping some seriously bad weather finds it's way to your skies.

Love,

Erika

crazy screaming fans = awesome

Soundtrack: Standing on the Shore by Empire of the Sun
Words: 0, again, but I'VE BEEN READING!

I think the every writer, once they get to a certain point, dreams of publication. Whether they realize those dreams or not, it can be pretty inspiring to imagine hoards of people dressed up as your characters, waiting in line for a packed reading/signing event a la Ms. Rowling.

Harry Potter is amazing. If you've read my blog before, you may know that I adore everything about it: the series, the characters, the writing, the magic. It's been a while since a series of books has inspired such utter fanaticism. Sure, you have Twilight, but let's be honest. That's mostly about the abs.

Just in case you don't understand my rambling, I bought a copy of Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins today :D :D :D

In case you haven't read them (which, by the way, you definitely should!), Mockingjay is the third book in the Hunger Games trilogy, a YA dystopian series featuring the daring, the stubborn, the AWESOME Katniss Everdeen, who is the most kick-butt heroine I've read about in a while.

Basically, I spent eight hours sitting on the couch, reading. I haven't done this in a while--the last time I can really remember reading non-stop is when the Deathly Hallows came out. Basically: book fanaticism, in my mind, is totally freaking awesome.

Yeah, this post isn't really going anywhere. I just wanted to tell you that having something to dream about, be it a big, glamorous release party or crazed fans chanting "PEETA!" can get you through some tough moments. I'm sure it certainly hasn't hurt Mrs. Collins.

Of course, fame and fortune (not that these are guaranteed what so ever when it comes to writing. Scratch that--just assume these things won't happen and move on) can't validate you're writing if you aren't confident with it. Screaming fans are one thing, a truly beautiful, quiet, unimposing book is another. And if you do dream big about publishing one day, you have to realize that you're book may inevitably be neither.

So, in closing, buy yourself a copy of Mockingjay, read read read, then go back to writing. And, just for a moment, give yourself permission to be completely and utterly self absorbed. Picture the autographing, the smiling fans, the flash of cameras...

Whoever you are, reading this, take a moment to realize just how much you rock.

...And then get back to work. Right, I should probably do that sometime :)

Love,

Erika

get in the writing mood

Soundtrack: Go Zombie by Zombie Girl. If you're writing a zombie book (although it would've been much more unexpected to say, if you're writing a heartfelt romance) you might want to listen to this band. It's about zombies--gosh, you don't say! Cool songs but... a little creepy.

Words: big fat zero. I've been plotting--does that count? No, didn't think so.

It's August 22nd and I've only posted 4 times this entire month.

WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!

So today I thought I'd share my ways to get in the "writing mood". First and foremost, having something to write about helps. But other than that, what helps you write? What gets your Word Processor shaking with excitement? Man, that sounds weird...

ANYWAYS! There are a few things that I like to have around me in order to write write write with few distractions. Here you go, Erika's FIVE STEPS TO GET IN THE WRITING MOOD:

Step 1: Boil water for tea. Preferably Earl Gray. Bonus points if you have a tea kettle that you put on the stove top--the kind that screams when the water is boiled. That TOTALLY WORKS if you're writing a thriller :)

Step 2: Put on your fuzzy slippers. Bonus points if they're shaped like animals--mine are hedge hogs named Phineas and Dumbledore. This way you can write in style and comfort.

Step 3: Light some candles. Bonus points if they smell like something delicious. I don't know about you, but when I'm staring at the computer screen, trying desperately to fill the blank page, I am ACUTELY aware of my surroundings--including the smells. My house smells funny. It smells like the type of house that contains two cats, two teenagers and one very smelly dog. Hence the need for DELICIOUS SMELLING CANDLES!

Step 4: Select a soundtrack. Some days I can't get any writing done if there's music playing (if it's something really catchy, I find myself typing the lyrics instead of what I'm supposed to be working on)--other days, it seems too quiet without itunes blaring in the background. Do you listen to music while you write? Or do you need COMPLETE AND UTTER SILENCE?

Step 5: Adopt a British accent. When I was little, I thought all authors had British accents, regardless of their ethnicity. When I read my writing out loud, I almost always use a (bad) British accent. It just makes my writing sound so much... fancier :D Triple extra bonus points if you happened to actually BE British--in which case, hello!

There you go. My ways to "get in the mood". Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Happy Sunday,

Erika

PS: CAPITAL LETTER OVERLOAD? NO WAYYYYY!

embrace your inner flake

Soundtrack: The Garden by Mirah
Words: About 50... Yes, a major low, I know.


Some days, I feel completely devoted to my work in progress. To be honest, this doesn't happen often. When I'm first starting out I think all of my ideas are brilliant--then we spend more time together and I start to notice their little flaws...

WIP leaves hairs in the sink, talks with their mouth open and never puts the milk back in the sink after it makes tea. To be fair, I'm probably guilty of all these faults, too. But when you're preparing to spend a lot of time with your story, it's important that the two of you can get along.

In June, I was working on a very conceptual (that really deserves air quotes) novel about summer and seeing the future. By July, I had upgraded to--no way!--a superhero story. Aaand then, by mid-August, I switched again, this time to my current WIP, a story about loss and old ladies (um, kind of).

What I'm about to say is totally counter-intuitive and in total support of the dreaded SNI (Shiny New Idea), but I really feel like you have to be working on something else in order to have your best ideas. You have to be totally immersed in the writer-mindset in order to pick up on the little nuances of life that can become the best stories.

Man, that sounds pretentious.

I'm definitely the wrong person to be talking about this (huh, then why am I talking about this?) considering I've never finished a novel. But I wanted to share my most recent pearl of wisdom (again, picture the air quotes).

Sitting around, waiting for an idea to burst out of the subconscious just doesn't work for me. I wish it did. Some days, I pretend it does just to justify being lazy--"It's research!"

I genuinely believe that writing begets writing. You have to be out there, working your heart out, bearing your soul.

Go on, bear your soul :)

Erika

teaser tuesday

Soundtrack: 1, 2, 3, 4 by the Plain White T's
Words: +200


*Gasp* I almost forgot today was Tuesday. I was working--at a bookstore, with calendars, where the day of the week is completely clear--all day, and I was convinced it was Wednesday.

For once, in over a month, I'm putting the teaser in Teaser Tuesday. Will, one of the main characters in my new, weird summer story, is a boy with a guitar.

Will:

So, what happened today? I got up, had a shower, and brushed my teeth. I know, I brush my teeth before I eat breakfast, it’s weird. That way, when I eat my cereal, my mouth still feels a little tingly.

Jack would understand.

I waded through the piles of gift baskets and bouquets to the couch, where Dad was sitting. He dipped his newspaper, a greeting I took to say, hi son, I know I took this holiday to spend time with you, but the sports page is more interesting. Don’t try to fight it, just get yourself some cereal.

Grandpa was down by the dock, I guessed by his absence at the kitchen table. He never slept past 6 AM, always ate Weetabix for breakfast, and loved his boat more than any living thing. I kind of admired his passion for it, because he knew that a pile of metal and rust-resistant paint wouldn’t let him down.

I was feeling all angsty and depressed, so I figured I might as well make up some gloomy riff and sing about it. I grabbed my guitar from its place of honour beside the table and slung the strap around my shoulder. And that’s when it happened: Hurricane Claire.

“Hey, Lenny,” she said, bursting through the door like she owned the place. With Claire, formalities weren’t a big deal.

She started calling me Lenny, short for Lennon, the first time she heard me sing. I was down by the dock, sure that I was alone, when she started singing along. Badly. I knew I was nowhere near as good as John Lennon, but you’d never get her to believe that.

Claire hopped up onto the table and patted her bare knees, humming what sounded like I Wanna Hold Your Hand.

“Guess what?” she asked, grinning.

“What?” I put my guitar down and took a seat at the table.

“Emma’s back,” she answered giddily and started patting her knees again, this time to some made up song that only she could hear.

“Emma...” I repeated, trying to see if saying the name would bring back any memories—-no luck.

Claire clicked her tongue in irritation and said, “Emma Proskova, my cousin. You know, Em, Emmy, Em-who-will-never-win-an-Emmy-because-she-sucks-at-acting. She was Juliet in that play, like, eight years ago. God, has it really been that long? I feel old.”

Claire ran a finger along the side of her face, tracing an imaginary wrinkle. “You’re not old,” I said. “And you’re not making any sense. Emma?”

I remembered the play. One summer, Claire decided to rewrite all of Shakespeare’s most famous plays, starting with Romeo and Juliet. Jack was Romeo and half of the lines didn’t make any sense. I remembered performing it for our parents who all applauded at the end—even Dad, an English teacher, who winced at almost every line. Oh yeah, Billy Shakespeare was pissing himself with laughter, wherever he was.

There you go! As I was trying to edit it, I realized it's a very rough draft and doesn't totally fit with Will's voice. I'm not sure if I should continue with this story or go back to my abandoned superhero thingymajigger. Sigh. Life and writing can be very confusing, sometimes.

Love,

Erika

a short salute to my brother

Soundtrack: Jasper by Aidan Knight
Words: +1500 on a new summer fling


Shortly after publishing my last blog post, I realized that I had hit the big one-oh-oh. My blog now has officially one hundred posts :)

Looking back, I've had some hits and some misses, to use a sports metaphor. I'm watching the Simpsons and they're playing tennis. Anyways, my blog is like a little piece of me, internet sized. For my 101st post, I felt like I should write about something special. Since I've been talking about writing as a boy, the first thing that came to mind was my brother.

Today I thought I worked at 1:00. In fact, I was sure of it. So when my boss called me at 11:15, I was completely surprised--and completely ashamed. Luckily my brother, who just got his full license a few months ago, pulled up his Yellow Submarine pajamas and gave me a ride.

My brother is awesome. I don't say that nearly enough and I usually think it most when I'm somewhere else.

We can be very different. I worry almost constantly whereas my brother is unnervingly laid back. But we also have a lot in common. We both love indie rock, the Beatles, potato pancakes and butter chicken.

Sorry this post sucks. It was meant to be heartfelt and, okay, I'll admit it, a little sappy. But I'm going to cut it short because I have to go. And my brother's home.

One hundred and one. This one's for you, Martin :)

Erika

PS: He explained the "I mustache you a question" picture. Say it out loud and it makes sense ;)

boys boys boys

bSoundtrack: Fires by Band of Skulls
Words: +3700 on my WIP because I did NOTHING ELSE yesterday

I'm being such a girl about being a boy.

I don't mean being a boy as in cross dressing, borrowing my brother's stuff, or cutting my hair off with a sword and dawning armor, a la Mulan. I mean writing from a boy's point of view.

At first I was being completely ignorant. I figured, boys, huh? Well, obviously all they think about are their "private parts" and objectifying women. Wow, that's just as bad, if not worse than a male writer writing as a girl and thinking, make up? Check. Body image issues? Check. Totally obsessed with sparkly boys? Check. Man, this character rocks!

I decided that the best way to learn to write as a boy would be to look back on some of the books I've read that have awesome male characters.

1) Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater. I'm not even done this book (I bought it yesterday--employee discount, squee!) and I'm already in love with Sam Roth. Instead of being all serious and practical, he breaks events down into song lyrics. He's romantic and fragile and really fun to read. I'm really glad I'm reading this book because it's reminded me of something I really need to remember: you don't have to write uber masculine characters that shoot everything in sight just for them to read as a guy. Write the kind of guy you'd want to know--the one whose head you'd really like to be inside.

2) Break by Hannah Moskowitz. I liked this book because it does a great job of showing the relationships between brothers. Just like girls, boys come with baggage--friends, family, past events--and writing about a character, singular, will never be as powerful (in my opinion!) as exploring that character's relationships with others. In Break, Jesse, Jonah and Will all have issues. Jesse has tons of serious food allergies, Will's a baby who won't stop screaming and Jonah is determined to break every bone in his body. Those things alone make them strong, interesting characters--but it's their reactions to each others' issues that make them really stand out as individuals.

3) The Darkest Powers trilogy by Kelley Armstrong. I'm not just saying this because I'm a total fangirl over these books--though it does help. I love Derek and Simon, two of the boys who are at a group home with the main character, Chloe. Derek is incredibly anti-social and aggressive, while Simon is pleasant, approachable and artsy. In this case, it would be easy to say, "Derek's bad, Simon's good," but good books are rarely so black and white. I'm glad I read these books because they reminded me of how important it is to have a back story that makes sense. It's easy to write a mean character but it's better to write a mean character who has a reason for being mean. Do they pick on people because they don't feel accepted? Maybe they dump every guy they meet within a few dates for fear of getting rejected themselves because someone dumped them in their past.

Okay, crappy examples, I know. The point is back story can equal motivation. It gives a character past events and choices that influence what they do now. It makes it easier for the reader to sympathize with a character, even if they are mean. Guys are damaged too.

I've been away for a little while because I was at my grandparents' house. It gave me some time to write, swim, and bask in what's left of summer (insert sad face). A seventeen hour drive later and here I am, over joyed to have my wireless back.

:)

Erika