Why is it that, every November, I can write for Nanowrimo and Jonowrimo with not a care in the world and pound out the requisite words, but the moment the challenges are over, I morph into a slug?

I came across the ad for this new MG novel on The New York Times on-line page, and followed the lead and had a good read.  What a super book!  The interview is excellent also.  Because my son is reading Lord of the Flies right now, I think I'll buy Dashner's new book for my son for Christmas... 

 We who commit to these challenges must be an ounce short of a pound.  And perhaps that is precisely the point.

I have just signed up for JoNoWriMo 09.  It is a marvelous event, and the best part is the other participants -- I 'met' so many great writers last year with whom I continue to correspond.  So here's to Jo Knowles and her creation JoNoWriMo!  Wish me/us luck!

E. M. Forster had it right, of course, but no where is his epigraph truer than in the lonely world of fiction writing. WIth only the mind's thoughts to keep one company, a writer could go barking mad creating fictional narratives of life were it not for the knowledge that fellow writers the world over were similarly engaged. Professional writing groups help temper the noises, of course, and I'm grateful to my writing buddies on LJ. Only connect...

OK--so I took my non-rodent notebook to the coffee shop an hour before I was to meet a friend, and observed.  Observing is a tricky business in itself, and I got some queer looks now and then, so I resorted to surreptitious peeping after a while.  

Maeve Binchy is spot on:  just look at my haul:

--hands coned, angular boned, like shaping a small globe

-- reading from a distance too vain to wear glasses in public

-- let go a private burp

--ran her thumb over each of her fingernails as if to check her expensive manicure was still in place

--sucked on his cigarette with two fingers then let it go to enhance the draw

--whole body immobile except for his nodding head

--lantern-jawed

--glasses end of nose, stray scraped hairs clinging to the dome as if hanging over the edge of a precipice

--legs crossed, hands in lap, arms hugged about her

--fingers ran down nose removing the shine

--fingers like opened fans

--ran finger from inner corner of eye along cheek bone, stretching too much skin....


No wait!  That last was what I observed in the mirror....

Happy writing!
 

Such a moron am I!  My last post went on and on about my new moleskin journal, a little black book I've been handling like it just died or something, which I thought it had, until I read up on MoleskinE and learned I have not, after all, been carrying a dead rodent around in my bag, but, rather, an oil-cloth backed cardboard pad which I grow fonder of by the minute.  It still has no pencil marks in it, but that will change, that will change.

I read somewhere that the wonderful Irish writer Maeve Binchy carries a small notebook everywhere she goes, observes the behaviors of fellow travelers whether in cafes, pubs, gatherings or public transportation, and records these behaviors and exchanges.  She will observe a conversation from across a crowded cafe and imagine the exchange that has caused frowns or smiles between a couple, their body language, how they carry their hands, and so forth.  

So when my children asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day, I asked for such a little notebook.  Imagine my delight when my children presented me with a moleskin-backed, banded, black book, the size of half a sandwich.   I've been carrying it around for four weeks and, alas, have written nothing in it, not a letter.  

Now, is this because I'm not very observant or because I'm usually gabbing away with friend or friends, oblivious to the exercise?  And should I have not noticed the half dozen or so individuals sitting alone and around me, jotting materials in their little books about how I'm holding forth with friends, crunching and creasing my face or waving my hands about, living the lines being carefully recorded around me?

Anyone familiar with IWOSC?  Worth joining? 

Am I mad or does it pay to become your protagonist, walk around all day using that voice? 

Have started writing a follow up to the YA novel I sent off last week to an interested agent--fingers so crossed--and I'm up to  2500 words already/10 pages!  V. exciting!

I can write or.... take my daughter out and have some fun...?

Up to my elbows in research on my new YA novel, I've decided that preparation is one of my favorite parts.   I'm even warming to the editing stage too!  You don't just 'write' a novel, no sir.  

To use or not to use in novels?  Any/all comments welcome! 

I so want to get in the habit of posting every day.  Anyone out there have any suggestions how I do that?  Maxwell's silver hammer comes to mind?   

Peeps--you'll find great stuff about the Big Sur Writers Conference on laurasmagicday!