Don’t Weep
I was just about weeping when I went to turn on my laptop the other day and all that came up on the screen were black and white lines and then nothing. Now the night before all was good. I turned the computer off and then off again trying to control the now relentless pounding of my heart the next time the screen went from grey to black. Oh no.
All I could think of was the hard fought beginning of my new secret project that I had not yet saved on an external drive or even email to myself when I often do as another form of back up. How could this be happing? Then the thought of all the trapped pictures that would be lost forever came to mind too if this laptop was now dead. I was devastated. I called the DH at work practically in tears and the conversation did not go well.
Later that night once he got home the DH being the computer whiz that I am not was able to attach the laptop to our old desktop and see the contents of my laptop on the desktop so from there I could at least save my WP documents so yay! Secret project saved. And he took the laptop to work and got the pictures off. Yeah think it’s time to invest in some printing soon. Time to get them out of the virtual world.
My dear laptop will now be going back to Dell for repair. I have no idea what happened since it is fairly new and I using my old tried and true computer which is standing by me through thick and thin. I hop think since Nanowrimo starts soon.
Lesson here: Back ip up! Everyday!!!
Best,
Kwana
Image: Weeping woman from Picasso 1937
Mine Dreams
Part of me feels like I should be chained to my writing desk and not let up until I come away with a book. That is no less than 80,000 words seamed together so they make at least enough sense to have crafted a usable story. Not likely. You’ll realize this once you read this rambling post.
At this point that I feel nothing less than drastic measures will do in order to make this happen.
I was having coffee with a friend after dropping the dd at dance class and going over the woes of being a mother of seniors preparing for (hopefully please god) college and all the angst that entails and then she asked me the dreaded question: How’s your writing going?
Writing? What writing? If by writing you mean the meager few sentences I can eek out in between nail biting, fights, stress, tossing and turning, shifting mail piles from one side of the dining table to the other, if you are talking about those two sentence, well, they are coming along just fine. At the pace I’m going I should be able to get this book done by the time somebody has a Master’s degree.
Then with me and my writers mind I got to talking about the Chilean Miners and how I cried and thought it was such a miracle when they came out of the mine but how also part of me wanted to hop in that little capsule after the last rescue worker and go on down myself, disable that sucker and tell folks to send down a laptop, tuna and water through a tube and come back for me in three months. Make it 6-8 when the whole college process is over.
In my mind I imagined along with the cheering crowds when I emerged from the mine it would be so nice to have an acceptance guy from which ever esteemed institutions gets Little Twin A and Little Twin B standing with them side by side to greet me. Ah bliss.
While I’m dreaming it would be nice to have my agent there when I get out along with a publisher or two waiting for the wonderful book I wrote while in the mine and a done deal one top of that from one of the publishers that were so enthusiastic to read my YA full when the queries were first sent but are now cooling their heels like a guy waiting to see if a hotter looking girl comes along.
And then there will be the DH. No worries hon there won’t be any rivals at the top of the mine to give you a fight for my affections. All my love is for you. Though it would be nice to have some new admirers with some Kwana Mania signs since I was down in the mine for months and on the Skinny Mine Tube Food diet and now no doubt coming up svelte, richer and wearing cool new shades. Just for my ego you know.
Although for that to happen I will have to style my underground camera shots like I’m Rachel Zoe. Very Carefully. Hmm.
So now somewhere in my little coffee chat mine rant my friend’s eyes may have glazed over a bit and yeah, maybe she’s looking at me like I’m a little odd. But she doesn’t have twins doing college apps right now (that’s next year for her) so for now I’m still keeping one eye open for possible wells I can slip into.
Best,
Kwana
One bite at a time
Yesterday I had a great meeting with my agent to talk about the state of my current submission (waiting for word, fingers and toes crossed to cramping). We also talked about my new project which I’m just starting to work on.
I attempted to explain my new idea which is bigger and more complicated than anything I’ve ever worked on. My agent was very excited by the concept and knew it could be fab, but could see the complexity of it all. She could also see my FEAR seeping through all my enthusiasm. She knew I was a little afraid of the project and assured me I could do it if I just took it piece by piece, one page at a time.
Sometimes looking at the whole can be just too much and send you running from the challenge but if you just take it one page at a time or bite or step it’s a lot easier to make the journey.
I’m think I’m on my way.
Best,
Kwana
image from here
Plot It Out
I’m Plotting. What do you think of when you hear the word PLOT?
plot
(pl
t)n. 1. a. A small piece of ground, generally used for a specific purpose: a garden plot.b. A measured area of land; a lot.2. A ground plan, as for a building; a diagram.3. See graph1.4. The pattern of events or main story in a narrative or drama.5. A secret plan to accomplish a hostile or illegal purpose; a scheme.
v. plot·ted, plot·ting, plotsv.tr. 1. To represent graphically, as on a chart: plot a ship’s course.2. Mathematics a. To locate (points or other figures) on a graph by means of coordinates.b. To draw (a curve) connecting points on a graph.3. To conceive and arrange the action and incidents of: “I began plotting novels at about the time I learned to read” (James Baldwin).4. To form a plot for; prearrange secretly or deviously: plot an assassination.
v.intr. 1. To be located by means of coordinates, as on a chart or with data.2. To form or take part in a plot; scheme. plot (pl
t)n.1.a. A small piece of ground, generally used for a specific purpose: a garden plot.b. A measured area of land; a lot.2. A ground plan, as for a building; a diagram.3. See graph1.4. The pattern of events or main story in a narrative or drama.5. A secret plan to accomplish a hostile or illegal purpose; a scheme.v. plot·ted, plot·ting, plotsv.tr.1. To represent graphically, as on a chart: plot a ship’s course.2. Mathematicsa. To locate (points or other figures) on a graph by means of coordinates.b. To draw (a curve) connecting points on a graph.
3. To conceive and arrange the action and incidents of: “I began plotting novels at about the time I learned to read” (James Baldwin).4. To form a plot for; prearrange secretly or deviously: plot an assassination.v.intr.1. To be located by means of coordinates, as on a chart or with data.2. To form or take part in a plot; scheme.
Best,KwanaFuel for thought
Most of my writerly friends are in Orlando at the RWA national conference this week and honestly my heart is there too. I’ll be fighting hard this week not to live in a state of regret and oh I should have just gone for it and what the heck with the money zone. In order to combat that I’ll be listening to old workshops that I may have missed on my ipod and working on my next project and drinking lots and lots of coffee.
Here’s hoping for a productive week. Wishing I were having my annual Nora spotting though.
Best,
Kwana
P.S. Droid update: I have to get a new phone something is wonky with mine but it’s not in the store so I must keep this until it’s shipped to me. Patience is not my thing but I will deal. My BIG complaint: Why Verizon is it not shipped to the store and held for me for an exchange? Why must I pay for 2 phones and will then get my money back for one once I (Me?) send the broken one to you? That does not seem right.
P.P.S this is not new news. I did kindly tell this to the customer service person in Verizon and on the phone. Just had to blog it like I blogged how excited I was over getting the Droid.
P.P.P.S (huh?) I was no all rude like the Fla man who apparently did not have an hour for the technician to fix his phone because “he would lose too much business in and hour. As a matter of fact his business could shut down in an hour. Did we all have any idea how much money he could lose in that time. An hour? It was just crazy… Blah, Blah Blah….! ” Let the record show in the 45 minutes he ranted his phone did not ring once. I guess Mr. Trump was not calling.
Oh and I can’t stop talking. Head over to Becoming True Me to discuss Is God On MY Plate? Here.
I write like…
I’ve spent way too much time lately on the I write like site. I’ve been putting in random snippets of my writing to see if the results change or not. I’ve tried parts of different books of mine and random blog posts. More times than not I got that I write like Stephen King and twice Dan Brown and look who else appeared, Shakesphere. As if I could be so lofty?! Not once has a female author turned up for me. Odd with my love of romance. Houston I may have a problem though with what I’m going for next this may be a good thing.
I write like
William ShakespeareI Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!
Of course this all means little or nothing, you see according to articles. The leaked Mel Gibson tapes are like Margaret Atwood and Atwood herself tweeted that she tried it and came up to write like Stephen King. Ah well, At least it’s a fun procrastination technique and all that cut and paste really does look like work. Sort off.
You can go here to spend way too much of your own time not writing.
Best,
Kwana
Hope Springs
Hope Springs
Happy Monday!
Just when I was feeling incredibly blah and terribly impatient with life I got this email note from The Universe on Friday to keep me hanging on:
So what if you don’t have it yet, Kwana?It’s coming. You’re gonna get it. You’re gonna love it. And then you’re gonna forget there was ever a time when you didn’t have it.Like clockwork.I know,
The Universe
Feel free to take it with you to help you through this week if you like. I sure will.
Best,
Kwana
P.S.
Don’t forget to check out my other spot Becoming True Me. Just click on my feet to your right.
Bright Idea
So I’ve been struggling with writer’s block and part of it is too many ideas and part of it is fear and then another part of it is terrible indecision… UGH!
But thankfully I think I’ve now got a little bit of a handle on the beast that has been roaming around in my head. Now the words are not flying across the page yet, but my thoughts are getting more streamlined and contained into something (though it’s a lot bigger and more daunting than expected) that feels like a story I can get my heart and mind around.
Something else I can get around and it goes with the whole idea of streamlining are these lovely Moleskin notebooks for bright ideas found on Etsy. Aren’t they cute? You can find them here.
Have any bright ideas lately?
Best,
Kwana
A Watched Pot…
Thanks for all your kind advice yesterday on focus and not obsessing. I will take it all under advisement as I of course continue to OBSESS. Eeeee. No really, I’m trying to chill. The whole watched pot thing and all. Besides it’s too hot to be standing over that darned pot.
A Watched Pot Never Boils by Alfred William Strutt
Best,
Kwana
P.S. in other news my inspiration/dream board fell down yesterday out of the blue. Not much to obsess about over there… right?
Obsession
Is it just me? I know it can’t be. I can’t be the only neurotic nut case out here in bloglandia that can’t seem to walk and chew gum. You see I have a novel out on submission right now and though no matter how much I tell myself, not to obsess, it’s no big deal, don’t get your hopes up, a watched pot never boils… I still do. I can’t help myself.
This is the part of being an artist that I hate the most. The waiting for judgment part. It’s the part that makes me a little queasy in the stomach and the part that makes my writing process so slow. I think it may partially be due to holding off that queasy feeling. You see I should be continuing with work on another project but my mind is focused (I know stupidly) on what I can’t control. The opinions of others and not focused on my WIP. As if by my mind power I can bend someone else’s will. But what I need to do is bend my mind in the right direction so it’s more productive and less obsessive.
It’s a hot mess being in Submission Purgatory. For more on this subject go and read this funny and spot on post by author Kiersten White here.
Tell me how do you get your focus?
Best,
Kwana
