Gravity Works

As a matter of fact, I think they've got gravity on high at the moment.

Lately our Sensei has been on this core workout kick. Crunches, funky push-ups, plank position, boats, scissor kicks, leg flies . . . and whatever else he can find on the web that looks hard.

I don't usually conceal this truth—I'm horribly out of shape. Well, I have a shape, it's just not a fit shape. It's more round and rolly, like a pear. I like pears. Even though I go to Kempo class two or three times a week, I'm still not terribly fit. Could be the need to eat almost everything I see. That's probably not helping. (That cookie looked so lonely, sitting on the plate, all by itself.)

Tonight I wore my heavy weight gi. More bulk is not usually desired, but this gi has all of my animal patches on it, and I haven't worn it for a while, so I thought I'd dig it out of the closet and wear it this week. Bad idea.

First off, we're on the ground doing all of this core work. Heavy weight gis are, well, heavy, and mine is a little big. So it engulfs me. Especially my neck and my face when we bend forward or get in push up position. Secondly, I'm positive that either the gi has a greater attraction to the ground than normal clothing (which is entirely possible) or gravity got turned up at the dojo. Either answer is fine—I just need validation.

Trying to lift my legs who knows how many dozens of times was a great deal harder tonight than it usually is. Not to mention the crunches and such. I blame the gi . . . and gravity. It's all about “G” tonight.

Aspiring Author definitely got the better deal today.

You're Welcome

I'd like to give all of the University of Utah fans a chance to thank me. The game ended somewhat agreeably for them. I'd like to explain why.

I usually forget to watch the “big game”. Hey, no hating on me, I went to Weber, I'm neutral territory. Almost every year, when the game comes around, I find that I've packed my Saturday so full that there is no way I could watch more than part of it. When I do get to watch the game, it is unusually boring.

Point – Six or seven years ago (heck, it could have been longer than that, I'm not sure) I ended up with tickets to go to the “big game”. If I recall correctly a friend of mine was going with a boy she liked. I mentioned to someone else that I wanted to go. A boy I knew asked me (through a friend) if I wanted a ticket. I said yes. Duh! Who says no to the BYU vs U of U football game. No one, that's who.

The entire situation was awkward. The guy who got me the ticket ended up on the far side of the stadium with his on again / off again girlfriend. (She was pissed that I was there) I sat with the girlfriend's brother and some guy he knew. Okay, who cares, right? I love a good, mean football game, so I was fine with whatever.

I brought a blanket and I had a warm coat on. However, I was not prepared for the 5 degrees the temperature plummeted to. If the game had been exciting, or even mildly interesting, I would have been fine. Jumping up and down, cheering, booing, yelling . . . But NOOooooo. The game was a bust. Lame. Totally retarded. I think the score was 3-0. I don't even remember who won. On the way home we got stuck in a traffic jam—in a blizzard—and it took us like 3 hours to get back to Bountiful from Provo.

Back to my point, and this has been proven time and time again. If I watch the BYU vs U of U game, it's boring.

Yesterday I managed to remember to watch the game. I missed the first field goal. I watched from right after that until the U scored their first touchdown. Then I had to go meet a friend for dinner.

Part of me was sad to leave when the game almost looked like it was going to get good. However, the other part of me knew that hundreds of thousands of fans would get a much better show if I left. So I did.

You're welcome.

I'm a winner!

Yay! Just over 50,000 craptastic, science fiction story words are now in a file on my computer. Sadly I lost momentum on this story what with working on my YA novel and all. Still, it's 50,000+ words that I didn't have before!

Pasta Infestation

My assignment for Thanksgiving this year is salad and deviled eggs. It's been a while since I've had frog eye salad, so I thought I would make that. Thanks to the world wide web, I found a recipe, bought the ingredients on Monday and did the prep for it this afternoon. Prep involves making a sauce and boiling pasta. Acini de pepe pasta, to be precise.

The Acini de pepe past is little round balls, kind of like Tapioca.

However, no one warned me that they were ninja infiltrators, ready to join the macaroni that got spilled the other day. I think the macaroni runs the show and sent out a call for ninja enforcers. Let me tell you, those little Acini balls are not only quick, they're also devious, hiding in every single crack and crevasse that they could find. On the stove, under the banana, behind the toaster, on the floor, near the sink, across the room . . . everywhere. And they're super resistant to wiping, picking up and sweeping.

Little buggers are now running the entire black market pasta supply coming out of our kitchen. We've probably got the pasta equivalent of The Soprano's happening in our house. Maybe we can put it on You Tube. Or make a reality TV show out of it. Pasta Wars? The Boiling? Hot Water?

The Call has gone Out!

I sent the call out to a handful of my unlucky friends and family members asking if they would read the first third (or so) of my YA novel, New Sight. I admit to being a little needy and asking for a review by next Sunday. There was a disclaimer attached saying that I understood that holiday weeks are sometimes even more insane than regular weeks, and that I wouldn't be offended if people couldn't do it.

I must be a lucky girl. Quite a few of my friends said they would help me out. Both of my sisters did too, although the middle sister promised to be a harsh critic. She scares me sometimes! :)

As usual, I'm nervous. The first third shouldn't be horrible. It should at least be up to “it's okay” level. Further up for the parts that I've revised 563 times. But what if no one likes it?

To distract myself from this burning question, I decided to move on to the second third of the novel. I dug out my outline and the list of writing tools that Dave Farland gave us a few weeks ago. When I had both things in front of me I started to go through them, writing down which tools I wanted to use where. I'm hoping this will make it easier for me to write the second third of the book. This section is completely different from the first revision I have.

Naturally, being slightly bonkers, I've put myself on a schedule. A “Time Bomb” if you will. I managed to pass the first phase by getting the first third of the novel completed by Monday night. I won't say when the next deadline is, but just let me tell you that I'm apparently masochistic.

I'll Give You Fifteen Minutes to Cut that Out

This morning I had the chance to get together with a few of the writers I met at Death Camp. Since we already have connections (each other) and an ambition of being published, we thought it might be a good idea to start a writing group. Today was our first meeting.

Because we hadn't e-mailed anything before hand (first meeting—no plan) we decided to have everyone read their first chapter to us. Well, we had a time limit because one guy's first chapter was 30 pages long. Mine is a Young Adult novel, so it's only 8 pages long. Anyway, I've only read my first chapter (you know the one I've rewritten about a thousand times) out loud once before.

I don't mind reading out loud, just as long as it's not my writing. I get nervous, try to talk faster so I get finished faster, trip over words and fall on my reading face. So my first goal was to not do that. My second goal was to stop my hands from shaking as I read. Both of those went okay. As a matter of fact, the chapter sounded pretty good. I revised it a few weekends ago and this was my first audience for it.

. . . They liked it! There were a couple of good comments for me to work on, which was awesome. But the best bit was this. One guy said that as I read a certain part he got chills! CHILLS! My writing evoked an emotional response from someone. (Well, and emotional response besides humor. That one's easy for me.) That little writing wanna be inside of me squealed and did a dance of very, happy joy.

Maybe I'm on the right track after all:)

Quoted

Okay, not really quoted, but close to it.

A few weeks ago I was at Dave Farland's Writer's Death Camp. I had a great time, it was awesome! Once it was all over and (sadly) we had to go back to real life, Mr. Farland asked for a review or a critique of the workshop from us.

Since I try to give useful critiques and reviews (none of that “I liked it” or “It was awesome” stuff) I sat down and put some time into what I sent back to him.

Much to my surprise, about half of my review ended up in his Daily Kick today. Work was busy (how dare they interfere with my real life) so I didn't get a chance to read my e-mail during lunch. When I finally did get around to it, I had a message from a friend asking if I was one of those that Mr. Farland quoted.

Uh, yea, that long-winded answer titled Review #1 would be me.

I know that no one knows who typed that. Okay, maybe four people in the world. Now five, with your reading this, but it's still weird. Creepy? It's just odd to be able to say, “Hey, that's me!” Perhaps I'm just crazy to think it's strange. That's always a viable answer. Does this mean I'm a published author?

Okay, back to writing with me. I just hit over 36,000 words for Nanowrimo. Should I go to bed or work on the YA novel? But first . . . Facebook.