Kreativ Blogger award!

Wow! On Saturday Miriam over at Dancing With Dragons Is Hard On Your Shoes won a Kreativ Blogger award AND SHE PASSED IT ON TO ME! That's right! My blog! Won an award! And as you can tell, I'm really excited about it. (giggles, blushes)

I would have done something about it on Saturday except that I have been stricken by some sort of respiratory crap--no, not the Heiney Flu (get it? h1n1=hini=heiney? which is funny?), because I'm pretty sure I've had it, and because I don't have a fever, just exhaustion and lots of snot.

Wow. I think I need to lay off the cold meds. Anyway, without further ado, the Kreative Blogger award:

The directions to this award are as follows...Recipients-You are charged with completing certain guidelines once receiving this award.

1. Copy the pretty picture and post it on your blog.
2. Thank the person that gave it to you and link to their blog. (Thank you Miriam!!!)
3. Write 7 things about yourself we don't know.
4. Choose 7 other bloggers you would like to pass the award to.
5. Link to those 7 other bloggers.
6. Notify your 7 bloggers.
   

So here are 7 things you don't know about me: I have never learned to drive; I earned a blue belt in karate when I was 12; I once corrected my high school history teacher in class (hey, I read a lot of historical romance novels. Of course I knew Geoffrey was John and Richard's *illegitimate* brother!); I cried at the end of "Revenge of the Sith"; I was once a legal secretary; I can throw pizza dough (because I once worked as a pizza cook); I had my first gray hair at age 12 (I don't think it was linked to the blue belt).

Here the other meritorious bloggers! Now, because I'm sick, I'm giving myself a little lee-way. While I do read quite a few blogs, many have already won this award. Errgggh. So I'm going to pare down the list a bit. Hey, I'm sick!
1. Erin over at Snarke. She's the lady who introduced me to blogging, and she is awesomely funny.
2. Kristina at the Ten Minute Missive. She's a mama blogger, and she's my sister. She got all the funny genes, too.
3. Jacki at JackiKane's Blog. The lady who reinvented what it meant to be funny in Portland.
4. Elspeth at It's A Mystery. She always spins my mind in new, thoughtful directions.
5. Heather at Writings Of Randomness. She's new to blogging and could use some encouragement--plus, she's another zombie fan.
6. Lance, over at The Adventures of Writing Dad. He's a dad! He's a horror writer! He's funny!

Get out there and read some blogs, gang!

Murder By the Book

If you've never been to Murder by the Book, a mystery-focused bookstore at 3210 SE Hawthorne Blvd, here in Portland, you are missing out. It's not large, but the space is cozily (and cunningly) divided into themed nooks devoted to different categories of books. Like classic police investigations? They've got a nook for it. High-tech forensics and medical science? Yep. Fantasy or paranormal specialists? Sure thing. There's even a kids' section for your little Encyclopedia Brown. They also have a small section of horror/thriller and even foreign language mysteries. Wow!

I went to Murder by the Book today because one of my favorite Twitter/blogging buddies, LJ Sellers, was visiting to promote her latest book. I haven't read LJ's novels yet (although I've had her first book on hold at the library for about 4 weeks ... somebody PLEASE return that book!), but I picked them both up for some light reading. I also got a new anthology about zombie animals to review, and one of Cleo Coyle's Coffeehouse Mysteries. I almost never buy books, so I'm feeling euphoric from the shopping rush.

Now that I know I can get books in my own genres (fantasy, horror), I expect I will be stopping by Murder By The Book a lot more frequently. It's close to my house and the people who work there are incredibly nice. I can't recommend it enough!

Nanowrimo Prep!

Just a quick pre-Nanowrimo tip: once you get started writing in November, all those beautiful threads and ideas are going to knot up into a jumbly mess. It's fun and dandy during the caffeine-crazed 30 days of November, but come December, it looks a little overwhelming. My last two Nanos are still lurking in a drawer, suffering from too much confusion.

This year is going to be different. This year, darn it, I'm starting with a structure.

I've never really been an outliner, but this year I'm following a design program espoused by screenwriters; I read a lot of sceenwriting books this summer and decided the structuring tools they discussed might serve me well. And then one of my favorite bloggers (and another awesome horror author!), Alexandra Sokoloff, decided to run a month-long blog workshop on building story structure. Hooray! Needless to say, I've been directing every writer-type I know to her blog, The Dark Salon.

Anyway, I'm off to do some editing and create some index cards. And maybe some housecleaning, since my adorable baby (you know, 22-year-old) brother is coming to visit today!

Halloween Rant!

People who "don't celebrate Halloween" freak me out. In my universe, that's like saying "I don't celebrate Friday," or "I don't believe in gravity." Halloween happens, man. You don't get to choose whether or not there is a Halloween. The sky becomes dark. Crows grow their winter feathers, fresh and black, a color beyond the limits of our visual experience. Cold seeps into our bones. You don't have to dress up or carve a pumpkin--all of that dark, cold stuff is going to happen to you whether you like it or not. That dark, cold stuff is what Halloween is.

To deny Halloween is like denying winter and death and darkness. You can deny it as much as you like, but you will still be cold, winter will still kill your garden, the sun will set and you will die. Nothing can change that.

You don't have to party on Halloween, although it is a basic human instinct to make merry in the face of hardship, and to reject that instinct is often indicative of a sprained sense of fun. Many people keep the season in a somber, respectful tone. I suppose that's not truly celebrating Halloween. But it is honoring the day. It is surviving it. It is reflecting on the meaning of the moment.

Halloween is a time to look into the darkness of the world around us and take its measure. It is a time to think about fear, to embrace it, to make a joke of it. Halloween is a time to reach out to death and walk in its footsteps. To do these things enrichens our human perspective; doing them validates our choices that bring good into the world and strengthen our appreciation of the bright and the beautiful. We are lucky our culture has created a special day just for those activities. We are lucky that all around us, our fellow Americans are partaking in them, turning their gaze into the dim night and facing it readily.

On Halloween, the shapes in the darkness are just children with an appetite for sweets. Some of the costumes are scary. Some are cute. But if you don't look, you'll miss out on the good ones.

Thoughts from a reformed procrastinator

So far the week has been awesomely productive. I've gotten all caught up with the Horror-Web work I meant to do last Friday. I sent a story out on a submission. I worked on the museum's Halloween e-card. Yeah, actually ... looking pretty good. I just need to pull ahead on the edit a little more and start next week's article about the Paris catacombs. Wow. I'm planning ahead!

It's hard to believe that I have become the kind of person who gets work done in advance. It wasn't that long ago that I was a world-class procrastinator. I was such a procrastinator that the night before my senior thesis was due, I not only hadn't finished, but I wasn't even half-way through. And then I went and saw the midnight opening of The Phantom Menace before getting down to work.

It helps that nowadays, I choose my work. Those articles, short stories and novels aren't assigned by some dictatorial professor--I decided to do them. If I don't do them, it's not something nebulous like a grade on the line, either. It's my professional and friendly relationship with my editor on the line when I don't come through with those book reviews. It's my whole future career if I never finish this book.

Of course, it also helps that I am a grown-up. I'm a parent. If there's something you learn as a working mother, it's how to multi-task and prioritize. It's pretty easy to organize the fun stuff, like writing, after taking care of the cumbersome duties of clean tights and enough snacks to make it through school and dance class.

Oh! And Headshot Heather: I'm so glad you like the t-shirt. It is on Cafe Press for the consumption of the masses. Shop it up, baby!

Friday already?

Friday is usually my big day to catch up on writing and my internet work, but today didn't go as planned. I spent *3* hours trying to get to my sister's house (who lives about 12 miles from my own home). I spent 2 hours updating my webpage to include the new t-shirt design ... not to mention the untold amount of time actually getting the shirt set up. I don't even want to go into the details of how a basic business card order can turn into designing t-shirts. Suffice to say that when it comes to procrastination, no task is too large or too ridiculous to keep me from putting off editing my novel!

That's right, I did not get a word edited since Monday. I actually feel like a giant loser. But now I'm a loser who can wear her own self-designed t-shirt to Orycon!

Blog recommendation

On top of being a writing, zombie-hating (loving? It's a complicated relationship!) nerd, I am also a total animal geek. Today I was introduced to a touching blog called Your Black Cat. The page is devoted to black cats--who happen to be the least-adopted pet in US animal shelters. If it wasn't for my darn landlord, I'd rush out and adopt 2 or 3! I love anything with hard-luck story.

Also, the writer of Your Black Cat is going to have a story published in the same upcoming "2012 AD" anthology as me! Now I can't wait for December to read hers.

Bwah-hah-ha, writer's block!!

The last week was not a very productive one at Chez Winnie. I had the gloomies and a cold, and every time I sat down at the computer I stared at my WIP and just pushed the keys dejectedly. Then I would go downstairs and whimper to Sweetie-Pie: "I can't do anything. I'm just too stupid to write." Then I would blubber a little.

Well, this week could not continue in such a vein, so I decided to take an advanced psychologically sneaktastic trick to get me started again. (It's the kind of thing you come up with when you parent a 6-year-old. You get good at psychological warfare.) I told myself Monday night that I could only write for 15 minutes. Not that I only had to write for 15 minutes. That I was only allowed to write that long. And then I made myself stop. I did it again the next day, too, even though by that time my brain was roiling with great ideas and I was very ready to plunge into the editing work. Then last night I allowed myself free reign. I slashed, and revised, and worked up a new scene. I felt like a champ. As if I was sneaking cookies from the cookie jar without my mama noticing.

Tonight I've got a long list of projects to catch up on. And I'm hopped up on caffeine and raring to go. Now that I'm allowed to write, I'm going to enjoy every second of it.

Fall-icious!

Sweetie-Pie had the day off, so we drove out to Oregon City to hit up a farm out there. The plan was apples, but pears were the bargain of the day, so we bought a big box. I foresee pear sauce or pear butter in my future. Maybe even ginger-pear pie! Now that's the flavor of fall.

There are people out there who deride Oregon City as a crappy Portland suburb, but I love it out there. The town itself is crammed with history, and the river is big and green. All around the edges of the city, there are little farms to explore and neat parks. Also, there's the Municipal Elevator. If you haven't been, make sure you take a ride soon--it's a wonder of 50's design and one of two city elevators in the world. So cool.

We'll be going back to Oregon City soon. I've promised myself we'll take a ghost tour this month to experience the paranormal side of Oregon's history.

Brain ... dead

First the cold, now the sinus infection ... will I ever be able string words together in a sensible way?

The wizardry of words

Being sick, I haven't made it into the library, which has reduced me to exploring (gasp!) my own bookshelves. This is something that rarely happens. Most of my books are mangled college literature texts I might revisit in another two decades--if the entire Multnomah County Library system burns down and Powells has become a private book club. Fortunately, this spring I used some of my tax refund to add a few volumes to my collection. The pain of nothing-to-read-for-the-morning-commute was thus reduced. I simply picked up the 20th-anniversary edition of So You Want To Be A Wizard, by Diane Duane, and dug in.

I think I found this book when I was seven or eight, pretty early in my book-reading career. I've probably read it ten times. Or more. It's so good that there I was, thirty years old, reading this kids' book on the bus, grinning my face off. Wow.

Revisiting books like this--books I've read many times, at critical points in my life--is always amazing to me. I can see things in the characters that shaped me. I can see themes about living that today I try to pass on to my daughter.

Being a writer is an amazing thing. The really good ones create words that go on to create people. Those writers are the wizards of the real world.

So, yes. I want to be a wizard.

Sore throat

Revision Marathon interrupted by some kind of cold. Took a nap, ate some delicious pot pie, and watched We Are Wizards. It made me a little teary. Now I want to do a lot of reading, get people into reading, support international literacy campaigns, fight the man and learn a bunch of songs on my dulcimer.

But for now, a hot bath and early bedtime.

Editing Marathon, Day 3

20+ good pages, plus a revisit on the "punching" scene that gave me a panic attack yesterday. Also, I have forbidden myself to read any more of John Truby's Anatomy of a Story, which was making me feel like an idiot.

Tomorrow, I might not get much work done. I'm facing a big dilemma: Pirate Festival or the Scappoose Sauerkraut Festival? Wow, how do I choose?

The Revision Marathon: Day 2

Welcome to the Great Sept-October Revision Marathon! The goal is to revise/rewrite novel #1, which is in its 3rd edit, and to complete this task before Nanowrimo begins.

This promises to be difficult.

For me, revisiting previous work has so far been more like an exercise in masochism than a positive, progressive experience. Book 2's 3rd Draft might have killed it. Book 3 is dead (although it did inspire a wonderful--and sold!--short story). Sometimes I think I should forget this book and just write Book #4, a book grounded in experience and knowledge, a book whose revision process would not only be less like peeling the scab from a half-healed wound, but positively enjoyable.

Hey, it could happen. I know I've learned a lot about writing since I sat down at the computer and picked out my first (complete) book. But I feel like I have to give this project my best shot. I can't keep setting aside pieces and never finishing them. I'm beginning to lose faith in myself. If I don't see this project through to a point where I can finally send it out--and I don't care if it finds acceptance, I just want to get it out the door in a proud and professional manner--then I might break the part of me that wills words into being.

I can not do that.

So if you've got any support or advice, now is the time for it.

Ecosystems in my home

Don't get too freaked out about this, folks, but last winter a slug moved into our house. We knew it was there because every morning we would find trails of scribble all over the plants and the rugs, but we could never find the darn thing, until one magical day (months later), I found it sliming up a branch of the Mexican cinnamon bush and chucked it outside.

Well, today I found out where it had been living. You see, I'm not a very good housekeeper, but I am a plant freak, which has created a terrifying condition in the corner of our living room: jungle-itis. We have packed about ten plants and one terarrium into the little sunshine nook and with all the beautiful greenery, certain household tasks get a bit neglected. Like sweeping and vacuuming and dusting. I mean, it always looks nice over there, so why fuss about the details?

Erm. Yeah. Back to the slug. Anway, the place looked lived-in. So today, I finally pulled out all the plants to give them a little extra attention. Everything was encrusted in dead plant-y bits, sprinkled in potting soil and dabbled with dead bugs--everything that wasn't swaddled in cobwebs. It was pretty gross. Not as gross as moving the bookshelf/plant stand and looking at the floor beneath it, however. At first I thought Fiona'd spilled a bottle of glitter. Then I realized that an inch of spider webs gummed with slug scribble creates a remarkable shimmering fabric (nice if you didn't think about it, or notice the bug corpses). Even worse was that even after I swept and vacuumed, the floor was still slug-sticky.

Eww, eww and double-eww.

But all's well that ends well. Not only is the corner spic-n-span, I've convinced Sweetie-Pie to add a base to the bottom of the plant-stand. Not only will there be no more slug hidey-home, but now the second shelf will receive sunlight. Bye, bye books, hellooooo more plants!

Colds

You know you've got a cold when the sun is pounding on the windows and you're sitting around in long johns and a sweater. Jeez. In fact, I should probably stop messing around with blog updates and go take a nice hot bath.

What do you think of the new look, though? The little rock art monster on the header is from a photograph taken at Horse Thief Lake State Park. I think he's pretty cute!

Domestic mama

Jinkies. I can't believe I lived through yesterday: 7 hours of back-to-school/ready-for-E's-wedding shopping. John didn't have any pants with an opaque behind, or shirts with elbows. Fi didn't have any shoes, and had outgrown everything covering her below-the-belt area. I learned there would be tuxes at the wedding, and the MOH can hardly be seen in a cotton dress wearing Birkenstocks when the Best Man is wearing a tux. It was a shopping emergency!

Fortunately, we fueled up with a big Burgerville breakfast (if you don't have BV where you live, you are welcome to stay a few days in my basement so you can aquaint yourself with their magnificent offerings)--Green Chile & Cheddar Egg Sandwiches, hashbrowns and coffee. It is still a blast to put all the wrappings and leftovers in the compost bin, no matter how many times I go. Too bad our subsequent visits to S-bux and a pizza parlor weren't quite so eco-friendly.

But at any rate, pants and a dress shirt were found. Fiona picked out some dress shoes. I found some sexy strappy wedges and a red dress (polyester, so obviously much more formal). I even bought a big package of pens. How can I edit when there's only one blue pen in the house, and the kid's got it under her bed?

Not that I got any editing done last night. Nope, I spent the evening hunched over the sewing machine. I am halfway done with the Flower-Girl dress, and it looks adorable! Now, as long as I don't sew the skirt on upside down, I might manage to get it done before the wedding. =)

Fantastic tofu & spinach!

I have no idea what to call this recipe, but I do know that it was a big hit at the dinner table tonight. You can cut back the salt by using real veggie broth and salt to taste, but when you're lazy ...

Fantastic Tofu & Spinach!
1 package (14 oz) extra-firm tofu
1 tsp vegetable bouillon (I used Better than Bouillon brand)
1 1/c C hot water
2 cloves garlic, crushed and minced
1 oz (ish) brandy
1 tsp olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 bunch spinach, cleaned and de-stemmed
1/4 C packed basil, in chiffonade
fresh-ground pepper, to taste
1 tb crumbled feta OR if vegan, juice of 1/4 of a lemon

Drain tofu and press under a weight, 10-20 minutes. Prepare marinade: dissolve bouillon in hot water. Stir in 2 cloves crushed garlic and brandy. Dice tofu and immerse in marinade, allowing to soak about 30 minutes.

Heat olive oil in a skillet, adding 1 clove minced garlic. Remove tofu from marinade, reserving the liquid. Add tofu to garlic in hot skillet. Stir until browned. Add spinach and reserved marinade, cooking on low heat until most of the liquid has been absorbed by tofu. Stir in basil. Add pepper and feta (or lemon juice) and serve warm. Serves 2 hungry parents and one hungry kid.

This recipe has the squishy, sexy spinach richness of creamed spinach without the fatty kapowy. The feta adds a tangy piquancy that I enjoyed, but I will probably prepare it vegan-style in the future (feta is kind of pricey, and I really want to cut out the dairy before winter).

Whispers of the Columbia

We made two stops along the Columbia yesterday. One was at Avery Park, a tiny spot about ten miles north of Goldendale. Avery Park is open to the public year-round--except when the fish are running, when it becomes a private Native American fishing ground. It's quiet there. The wind riffles the surface of the river and the birds speak constantly, an exchange of secrets encouraged by the hidden nature of the place. You can not see the little cove from SR 14.

It was strange standing beside the US Army Corps of Engineers Survey marker, just a slender orange post with a white label. Unpreposing. But words "Witness Marker" stirred my imagination. Here a treaty was made. Here a people all but exterminated won back a toe-hold of their world. For how many years did they come down beside the river to take the shining silver fish, the world-makers, the people-savers, the salmon? There was a strange sensation to the air in this park--the feeling of expectancy like an indrawn breath before speech.

What was it ready to tell me? I didn't find out. A man with a jet-ski drove down and got his car stuck on the boat ramp, and we had to give him a jump to get him out of the river. And then we were off, quickly stopping at Horse Thief Lake State Park to see the petroglyphs.

How small they were! How surprisingly tiny! They were like the works of Frida Kahlo, human-sized works with all the presence of a room-sized mural. Removed from the ancient canyons, these sacred carvings cried out in loneliness for their lost brethren, swallowed up by the dammed river.

The last of the glyphs, the biggest, and the one I was most eager to see in person, turns her back to the rock fragments in their careful display. She looks out to the river, just as she always has. I was hoping to see her face, but horribly enough, her trail is closed now, due to vandalism. Who could deface the resting place of She-Who-Watches?

Who could jet-ski in a place sacred to the spirits of the salmon?

Who could damn a river and drown the cathedral of a people?

How I wish I could have heard what the river was going to say!

Blog before I go

Well, the plants are mulched and watered (that was a workout, believe me), most of the bags are packed and the garbage is emptied. Yep, we're ready for vacation. I'm pleased and only a touch nervous. Pleased to get underway and to see my mom, and nervous about keeping two kids occupied on a 7-hour car trip. And keeping my dad from driving me insane during our 3-day visit.

And nervous that my teenage niece will actually water my babies. I mean, the pumpkin is starting to turn orange! The melons are getting bigger! The tomatoes are the size of my fist and showing sunset colors around the stems! Can my lovebugs survive without me?

Whew. Enough drama. I'm going to gather up my dulcimer strings and prepare for my father's irritation with my lack of practice.