Where’s my blade of grass?

“An Irishman is never drunk so long as he can hold on to a blade of grass and not fall off the face of the earth.” ~ Unknown

So either I’m not really Irish or I’ve been really drunk, because I’ve lost my blogging groove.

It doesn’t help that I usually snake the internet from the random wifi in my neighborhood – which I have to access from outside the house – and it has been occasionally rainy and/or wet more often than not in the past few weeks. That pretty much hosed me. One of these days I’ll be a big girl and either a) get my aircard fixed for my computer or b) get real internet like everyone else.

So let’s see… *digging through mental notes. Not a whole heckuva lot has happened lately. I didn’t win the lottery recently (dammit) and I haven’t finished my book. I’m still working on it though. I’ve actually been fighting the writer’s block by editing – a suggestion from a fellow writer friend whose name escapes me now – and i’m a little under halfway through my first edit. I still have fresh writing to add to the beginning since my original start took place somewhere in the middle of the timeline (*watches as a black wasp – mud dauber? – hovers menacingly around my ass region) but I’ve been plugging away at it. A few friends have mentioned that my story feels like a series, and the more that rattles around in my head, the more I feel like leaving this particular work where it is: a bit of a tease. The ending that I have in mind seems so far away that when I start shopping my ms around (notice how I said when? that’s right – I’ve got aspirations) I think it would be too long for anyone to want to mess with. So shorter and sweet, right? Sure. We’ll see, though. I’m fickle.

In other news (ha! news), the play is this weekend and the next. Nothing major there ‘cept it’s been chopping my nights into two halves: before practice and after. That’s also been cramping my writing/lounging/tv catching up on time, so that when I get back home, dinner made, and settled for the night it’s later than my usual start time for all of the aforementioned activities. And not that I mind staying up into the wee hours of the morning half-drooling over Sam and Dean Winchester – don’t let me fool you, I don’t mind it at all (I’m lying about the half- drooling, too) – I’d just like to start a little earlier.

Hmm… more. Sorry I’m behind on journal entries. Kate, Wyatt and Nathan are still doing there thing. Wyatt’s been smittenly lurking in the background of Kate’s karaoke nights, Nathan has been snooping in Wyatt’s books, and Kate is still fishing for the man of her dreams and playing single working mom. I just need a few hours/days to put it all to paper/puter.

In other news, my five year old got his cast off yesterday. He was thrilled, and he got to go swimming for the first time without. He’s such a little fishy!

(is that it?)
(hmm… for now)

Okay, well I’ll quit bending your ear for now. If I remember anything life-altering or think of anything super awesome to impart I’ll be back. In the words of my good friend,

Peace and hair grease

~h

So – I’m a bitch.

Just so you know, there’s not real moral to this particular post. No feel good happy ending, no lesson to be learned (unless it’s just to not be so bitchy).

I am a bitch. Plain and simple.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a really swell gal, too. Lots of the time, actually. But in general – and on any given day – I am just a plain ole bitch.

I’m short with my friends. I’m snarky. I’m argumentative. I’m contrary. I am bitchy. Period. The question is why.

I can be nice. Nice as pie. And I love my friends dearly. They are my friends for a reason. So why am I so awful sometimes?

The thing is, I get over lickety-split. I’m bitchy and then I’m done faster than Sybil changes personalities. So I know that I get over it. Do my friends, though? You, you out there, you people who love me. Do you know that I don’t mean it?

Whew! Good. Okay. On to bigger and better things.
Side ponytails.

It seems they are making a comeback (or not).

I saw a girl at Old Navy sporting a snazzy impromptu (although if you ask me, it looked pretty well thought out) side ponytail. Then again tonight, out a CLUB, no less, a girl is wearing a THOUGHT out (on purpose, did ma hair just so it would look THIS cool) side ponytail.

Both to the right, I might add (does to the left mean you’re gay, or an alien or something?).

I currently have layers, so this look won’t work for me, but I would totally rock it. BUT…

…now that everyone else is doing it, I don’t wanna. I’m not a follower, see.

Anyhoo, I guess that’s it for right now. Oh! I guess I’ll update you on life and Life Sucks and whatnot.

So I’ve now written three beginning chapters. Each independent of the other and each with more info included – I think – than I actually have included in the rest of the written material. I love to make things difficult. As far as the end (the written end, what I have so far) of my story, I’ve been dealing with my writer’s block by editing. I’m fifty pages into the editing, so hey – I can at least say that I’m getting something done, right?

Sorry that the character journals fell behind for the few – if any – of you who’ve read/followed them. I’ll catch up soon. Trust, though, that they have been keeping up with them and that things have still been moving forward.

In other news…
…
……
………
Um, yeah. I got nothing. Not tonight/today, anyway. Maybe tomorrow?

~h

To tweet, or not to tweet

That is no longer the question.

I broke down and got myself a stupid twitter account. Well, I should say I reconnected with one I made over a year ago (for some class I was taking at the time, I think). Anyway, this is me: http://twitter.com/heatherhangsit

So I guess you can find me at heatherhangsit. I swear, I barely know how this thing works other than you just randomly – and in some cases excessively – post. About anything and everything, apparently. I don’t have one of them there new-fangledy smart phones with 24/7 internet, though, so I doubt I’ll be obsessively updating or reading, for that matter. But hey, now I’m out there.

You know what I have heard about twitter that got me more interested than anything else? Twitter novels. Apparently these have taken off like rockets in Japan. Now I can see how this would be a tricky art to master. Some people get so many tweets that a twovelist’s (ha! word) tweets might get lost or missed. And then there are the people who have a hard time getting hooked on a story that shoots out only a few daily bursts.

I think I’m gonna give it a go. I can flex my creative muscle and play around with genres that I’ve only dabbled in before. It could be fun. And hey, if I get it going, for those of you not on twitter, I’ll add a Twovel page up there (points up to the tab bar).

Still working on Life Sucks, but I’ve really done it. In going back and working on the beginning of the story I ended up adding some new elements that I didn’t plan for – and that aren’t included – in the main body of the manuscript. Yikes! Now I might actually have to do some research. Heather hates research.

Still keeping up with the journals, though, for the most part. Check ’em out, learn a little about the characters. In a few months I’ll throw out a poll on who your favorite character is, so get reading!

Until tomorrow…

~h

Gonna go back in time

I’m trying to get back to work on my novel, and since I hit a Great Wall of China stretch of writer’s block, I decided I’d go back to the beginning. The one I haven’t written yet. Now I’m writing, so I guess that’s a good thing, but it just doesn’t feel quite right. I’m still writing though!

You know what’s funny – not in the ‘haha’ sense but the ‘hmm’ sense – it’s easier for me to write these character journals, which take place before the start of my written story, than it has been to try to start a new beginning. I’m already considering using the journals as an opening to the story, but it’s still pretty early in the thinkin’ stages on that.

Anyway… yup. Guess that was all. Man, this blog really is all about me, isn’t it? Haha…

~h

Vagabonds and failed attempts

Yesterday I went on a nice long (too long) walk with my friend. The weather was gorgeous, the sun was setting, and I realized that walking with me is probably like walking with a 5 year old.

I notice everything.

Pretty wildflowers, too much trash, an empty Extenz package (you know what I’m talkin’ bout, Willis), and last but not least – a mulberry tree.

Right on the other side of the guardrail was this mulberry tree loaded with plump, ripe berries. We couldn’t resist, so we hopped (okay, straddled, checked foot placement, and slipped) over the guardrail. We both about busted it a couple times trying to navigate safe footing on the loose rocks there, but it wasn’t far to the tree. And there we stood/sat – grabbing at the branches, stuffing our faces and staining our fingers with the sweet and sometimes tangy berries. All the while cars zoomed past, probably wondering where our hitchhiking packs were. It was great though, and well worth the brief pit stop. Got us thinking about going back with bags so we could bring some home. What can you make out of mulberries anyway?

On to failed attempts. Well, I didn’t get chosen out of the 500 something entries in the chase/suspense scene contest. At first I was a bit frustrated, being as I think I’m a pretty decent writer and all. But the more I got to thinking about it (and as I remember what Nathan said about how he sifted through the entries) I realized that my scene just didn’t quite fit the bill for this particular contest. It wasn’t that my writing wasn’t good. Just not right. I especially love what Lisa Brackmann wrote about her process. Felt a lot like the way I write. So I’ve decided that I’ll just keep plugging away. Another day, another contest, right?

So… yep. That was my past 24 hours. What did you?

~h

I swear…

“… by the moon and the stah-rrs, a-bo-ove…”

Nope. Not today. And not even the naughty kind. This time.

I swear I’m losing all track of time. In all things, all aspects of my daily life, and I’ve really got nothing to show for it. Sure, I’m trying to hack through the bush on the unpaved road to paperback stardom. And be a mom. And work. And play a tiny role in a play. And blog. And not clean. But with all this doing (and in some cases not doing) I’m feeling like I’m constantly behind.

I think what I really want is to stumble into a heaping pile of red hot money and go live on an island somewhere. Hire a nanny/home school teacher for the boys. And a maid. And just live life – writing, cooking, creating, sewing, playing. You know, that sort of thing.

So… anyone know where I can find this unclaimed pile of money?

In other news, I submitted a 500 word action sequence to Nathan Bransford’s contest, which closes today at 4pm pacific. I think I’ve got a pretty good thing going, but hey – that’s just me. Well, me and a few of my closest friends, that is. There are a lot of good excerpts out there. I just hope mine gets dubbed as one of them. Here ya go. See for yourself. Comment with your opinions, why doncha?

ciao, all

~h

Her scream echoed across the treetops as a massive paw raked across her back, dragging her down to the floor. Her jaw hit hard and she bit through her tongue. She could taste hot copper as blood ran from her mouth and pooled under her cheek. The wolf grabbed the waistband of her jeans with its maw and shook her violently. Kate’s head smacked up against the railing before she fell back down. She was dizzy, and her back felt warm where the gashes oozed. She could feel something hot and thick falling in droplets on her back – drool, she guessed, as she felt the weight of the beast on the back of her thighs.

Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes. Tears came as she thought about her boys. She spanked Avery earlier that day (she couldn’t remember why anymore) and he gave her a tearfully sincere apology. She argued with Anthony about his needing to take a shower. Whimpering, she remembered the three of them snuggled up on the couch watching a movie, the boys laughing and being sweet to one another. Her boys.

The wolf snickered, mistaking Kate’s whimpers for ones of fear. Planting one of its giant paws squarely in the center of her back it pressed down. Its claws dug fresh holes into the already raw and bloody flesh, sending a shock through her body. She shrieked. It was an angry sound.

Kate thrashed around and managed to free herself from the wolf’s pin by rolling to the side. She grabbed onto the rail and turned around just as the beast went up on its hind legs. She ducked out of the way at the last minute and the creature’s paws landed on top of the railing, skewering them on the ornamental spires. It bellowed and howled but wasn’t able to rip its paws free, and Kate witnessed the terrible beast writhe its way back to human form.

The bulky, naked man ripped his hands up off the barbed spires. As he turned to face her, he was lapping up thick, red pools from his palms. He sneered and took a step forward – reaching for her throat – but something stopped him. Kate tried hard to focus and realized it was Wyatt. He grabbed the man’s hand and bent the fingers and wrist clean back. Several loud cracks rang out. The man howled and brought his other hand up to strike, but Wyatt caught it and repeated the move. He kept hold of both hands and continued to wrench them until the brute dropped to his knees.

Wyatt emptied his hands and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking the man’s head backward. His head cocked funny. It looked like it was mere inches from being snatched off. Wyatt glared at the brute in front of him. Narrowing his eyes, he grinned, baring a shiny set of pearly whites.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

~excerpt, “Life Sucks”

WARNING – Rude opinion below

Pregnant women are DUMB.

Sorry, all you baby-makin’ machines out there. Not all of you are dumb, but a darn good lot of you are.

I mean really, ladies. I’ve heard plenty of myths, wive’s tales and truths regarding pregnancy, from people eating rocks and other non-edible items to just being forgetful. But I don’t recall ever hearing that common sense takes a hike just because you’re spawning life.

When I was pregnant, I don’t remember my intellect taking a dive and dipping back into my late toddler years, as far as common sense is concerned. I was fully aware the drugs, alcohol and smoking would very likely cause a problem for my unborn child and I refrained. Not that I do drugs or smoke – never have. I have been known to imbibe, but never while pregnant. *knocks on noggin. Call it common sense.

I was fortunate enough to recognize the difference between pee and ruptured membranes. I knew what Braxton-hicks were and how to ease them. I rested when I was overly tired and drank water when I was dehydrated. Under no circumstances would I wet myself repeatedly and just stay at home doing laundry nonstop. I knew when to call the doctor and when to problem solve on my own.

Seriously. What has happened over the last five years that has turned pregnant women into plumb idiots? Is there something in the water?

~h