<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:11:45.791-08:00</updated><category term='gifts'/><category term='happy 50th birthday--'/><category term='the launch'/><category term='convenience'/><category term='spring'/><category term='excuses'/><category term='ease'/><category term='rising word counts'/><category term='anticipation'/><category term='new story'/><category term='procrastination'/><category term='preparation'/><category term='inspiration'/><category term='laziness'/><category term='wandering back'/><category term='proofreading'/><category term='kick-off'/><category term='procrastinating'/><title type='text'>The Trembling Quill</title><subtitle type='html'>In which I act like a Writer</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-8411401811306439077</id><published>2010-12-02T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T16:28:25.119-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All's Well...</title><content type='html'>...and I WON!&amp;nbsp; For the third year in a row, I have WON the NaNoWriMo!&amp;nbsp; I have &lt;strong&gt;three&lt;/strong&gt; certificates on my wall to testify to that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This year I was more sporadic in my writing unlike the last two years when I wrote some every single night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year I also did over 90% of my writing OUT of home.&amp;nbsp; I found that I had the best luck at a couple local spots, with fellow WriMos.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I tried something new - alternating "chapters", the first taking place in present time, the next in biblical times and so on.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The idea was that they'd sort of meld together at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a learning experience.&amp;nbsp; I learned:&amp;nbsp; DON'T EVEN TRY THAT!&amp;nbsp; It was pretty stupid, and now that I HAVE gotten over 55,000 words written I can say with confidence that what I have is TWO entirely crappy pieces of dreadful writing, each about half the length of a NaNo.&amp;nbsp; I'm thinking of letting the biblical one sort of wizzle away and putting some effort into the "present day" one.&amp;nbsp; I suppose at some point I could try to resurrect (there's a joke there; I'll tell ya later) the biblical one, although it's going to take some SERIOUS cleaning-up.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like - this is not a "taking a little plastic bag and a pooper-picker as I bring the story out for a walk".&amp;nbsp; Oh no.&amp;nbsp; This will be like "hiring a garbage truck with one of those enormous scoops on the back as I tear along behind the out-of-control story."&amp;nbsp; For starters - the Crucifixion figures in.......but the whole thing takes place in ancient Egypt.&amp;nbsp; What's that?&amp;nbsp; Jesus wasn't crucified in Egypt?&amp;nbsp; OY VEY!!!&amp;nbsp; (See what I mean?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have to say - I'm inspired enough to actually be considering going back to clean up the present tense part of the story......AND considering going back to last year's (which I also didn't finish -- did I mention that I'm still plodding toward the end of this year's novel?) and finishing that one for further editing.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2008 I DID finish the story, and while I haven't read it probably since right after NaNo that year, I remember it fondly, and by gum I might take that back out too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how I see it:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I'll get a day-glo orange camouflage pattern jump suit and hat.&amp;nbsp; I"ll go wait out in the middle of nowhere with a tent, and I'll pack in a bunch o' food, and I'll line up all three stories and let 'em go.&amp;nbsp; Then I'll tear after 'em shooting, and if I can bring 'em down....I'll haul 'em home for butchering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now?&amp;nbsp; Think I'll watch "The Real Housewives of New Jersey" or wossname.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NaNoWriMo Survivor party Sunday next at Brocach.&amp;nbsp; I'll be there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-8411401811306439077?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/8411401811306439077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=8411401811306439077' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/8411401811306439077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/8411401811306439077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2010/12/alls-well.html' title='All&apos;s Well...'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4956357289936771907</id><published>2010-11-25T04:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T04:57:03.312-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Behind the Door...</title><content type='html'>This is a Writing Blog - and I'm writing.&amp;nbsp; But at this moment I'm using this space as my Secret Place Behind the Door;&amp;nbsp; I can safely vent here because so few know of its existence (none of the people I'm about to mention, though not by name) and I'm overcome with a fierce desire to speak my piece:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Thanksgiving 2010 and 6:30 AM.&amp;nbsp; We've done Thanksgiving the same in my house for something like 25 years.&amp;nbsp; My three children have been here, they KNOW the routine.&amp;nbsp; A couple of weeks ago I sent reminders:&amp;nbsp; please be here at 2:00, bring the usual (the one daughter-in-law makes the ever-present green bean casserole; the other, being a relatively new daughter-in-law, can bring whatever she'd like - last year she surprised and delighted us with a vegetable and barbecued ribs!&amp;nbsp; Her new husband, my son, likes 'em.&amp;nbsp; So did we all.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter brings delicious pie.&amp;nbsp; We put a huge table in the living room, I use my grandmother's Spode, and I love it.&amp;nbsp; It means a lot to me and having all three of my children together with me at once is a once-a-year event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that it's 6:30 AM Thanksgiving Day?&amp;nbsp; Did I mention that I'm in tears?&amp;nbsp; I thought I'd raised courteous, thoughtful children.&amp;nbsp; Son #1:&amp;nbsp; his son, my grandson, was in the hospital for pneumonia and just came home Monday (today is Thursday).&amp;nbsp; He finally called back last night -- they may NOT be coming.&amp;nbsp; Not because the boy is still poorly, no - "he's back to his usual annoying self", he said (fondly).&amp;nbsp; NO -- seems HER mother is having HER Thanksgiving at 2:00 today too, and after all these years, &lt;em&gt;they may get priority&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; The reason?&amp;nbsp; Well see, her dad needs help with his car and my son can help.&amp;nbsp; (I'll pause so that can be given some thought.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other son?&amp;nbsp; Well...his wife (who declared to me very recently that nothing is as important as family) replied that he &lt;em&gt;has to work Wednesday night and MAY have to work Thursday &lt;strong&gt;night&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; (emphasis mine) so they probably aren't coming either.&amp;nbsp; I can appreciate his having to work - but his wife and my stepgrandchildren and/or grandchildren (all of whom I love - and to whom "family is important") apparently aren't coming either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the only sure thing?&amp;nbsp; My daughter, our dear young friend, my husband and I are assured of an excellent meal with much laughter and joy and leftovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My tears will dry.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Knowing myself as I do, my sadness over terribly hurt feelings will turn to the realization that they're all behaving in a boorish and discourteous way - then I'll become angry.&amp;nbsp; Then - my daughter, our friend, my husband and I will have a nice meal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Right now, still in tears, I"m fantasizing calling the boys and saying "Your behavior is discourteous and hurtful.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Please think about my feelings in future."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't.&amp;nbsp; I actually have no idea what I will do - but perhaps later I'll return and set forth what transpired.&amp;nbsp; I guess I'll stash these feelings - they may come in useful for a character some day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4956357289936771907?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4956357289936771907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4956357289936771907' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4956357289936771907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4956357289936771907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2010/11/behind-door.html' title='Behind the Door...'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4495319798616836125</id><published>2010-01-13T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T08:30:48.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Asked for It....??</title><content type='html'>OK, my friend James (HI JAMES) gave me an idea.  No...TWO ideas.  So I've started to implement the one, and the other will follow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)  After my description of a &lt;em&gt;particularly embarrassing evening&lt;/em&gt; some years ago, he said "That'd make a pretty good short story....";&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)  He said, "I post writing on my blog, whyn't you do that thing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the short story is about done, and you will see it here.  Now - when *I* say "short" I may not mean the same thing you do.  For one thing, I'm short, and the meaning of it is clear.  I'm 4'11".  That's short, unless you're eight years old or a Hobbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regarding stories, however -- "short" for me may be "novella" for someone else;  therefore, my story may be posted in chunks.  We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch this space.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4495319798616836125?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4495319798616836125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4495319798616836125' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4495319798616836125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4495319798616836125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2010/01/you-asked-for-it.html' title='You Asked for It....??'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4423032360515337818</id><published>2009-12-23T13:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T13:45:31.960-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proofreading'/><title type='text'>Writing Blogs....</title><content type='html'>There are a few. This is one of them. When I'm &lt;em&gt;here&lt;/em&gt; it's my Children's Writer mode; the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators member mode. The one who won the NaNoWriMo with over 50,000 words (but no end of the story in sight). Oy vey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, if you're into things like checking dates, you'll see that it's been a very VERY long time since I've written, which belies my description as "writer". I apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My explanation (NOT "excuse") is....BUSY. But as I write today, NaNoWriMo is last month and therefore history; the "busy" has been working at the Museum, spending some family time, preparing for the holidays (takes SOME, when you celebrate Chanukah....Solstice....Yule....and Christmas) and today is the day-before-the-day-before Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm not going to write much now either, but did want to point out that the rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated and I will write a proper Post in the next few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To stave the guilt I'll include here a brief rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been given three books by my boss at the Museum who manages the shop; he asked me to read them and give an opinion about whether or not they might be good books to carry in a Historical Museum gift shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems all three were self-published. Now, they LOOK good; professional-looking covers, good typefaces, all in all nicely turned out. The two I've finished are not bad stories. One is sort of "memories of life in early Wisconsin" and is charming; the other is a young people's novel and a good, hearty tale. The third is very thick and I'm not finished reading it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they all share one thing in common: they're DREADFUL! By which I mean, the punctuation is terrible, they're full of either spelling errors or typos or both (I prefer to think they're typos, NOT spellling errors....). And I mean &lt;em&gt;both&lt;/em&gt; kinds of error are frequent enough that they're a real distraction to me. Admittedly, I see errors like that as if they were neon red, but I'm of the thought that people assume what they're reading is 100% accurate - and they have a right to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid book? Well, aspiring youngsters looking to become writers might subconsciously be &lt;em&gt;learning&lt;/em&gt; from every book they read. I suspect that none of these three books was proofread by anyone qualified - including authors themselves. I'm not suggesting that they pay for an expensive editor or proofreader; I AM suggesting that no one who is self-publishing (be it online or any other way) who does NOT at least run their manuscripts past other writers or a review group or ... heck, their Retired English Teacher Grandmaw! before putting out money (which I suspect might have been considerable in one case) to produce their book, is remiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking they may sell some copies, if they offer them through their churches or social groups. I'm also thinking that if they try to sell them through their own public or school libraries they WILL be reviewed, and will receive the same response I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it; that's my rant. Puts me in an interesting position, because I AM going to drop each writer a note - it'll be a test of my diplomacy to explain my position, but I &lt;em&gt;can't not&lt;/em&gt;, if you ken my meaning. I would certainly want the truth if it were my book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that "there may be no chance anyone else will notice" isn't good enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any thoughts? (By the way -- I AM aware of my use (over-use?) of semi-colons. I love them and use them now and then. Maybe too much....bear with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4423032360515337818?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4423032360515337818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4423032360515337818' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4423032360515337818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4423032360515337818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/12/writing-blogs.html' title='Writing Blogs....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-6716044665487930156</id><published>2009-11-20T13:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T13:31:53.148-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rising word counts'/><title type='text'>Time Marches On....</title><content type='html'>Oh wait, that's a cliche, isn't it? And it's only three words. Lemme see here.... OK. "Time groaned ever forward in the method which had propelled humanity toward its ultimate finality, relentless and unforgiving."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEE what this NaNoWriMo stuff does to you? Why use one word when you can use 15 ridiculous, florid, overblown and unnecessary ones? I mean, REALLY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, not going to take too much time here because I have a Writing Meeting arranged and some stuff to do before I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see -- I'm long past the birth, the death and the nekkud priest. The body's buried, and the baby with her -- but only it wasn't THE baby, which is still alive and being nursed by the Priestess who has never herself been a mother made!! (That happened in my last year's novel too....hmmmm.) He's learned that the goddess to whom the baby was promised is NOT EGYPTIAN (!) so he ... and the priestess...must take her to Greece, only it's "Hellas" because that sounds cooler.&lt;br /&gt;At this moment they have finally gotten on the boat, though it hasn't pushed off yet. And they've decided they have to Give Up Everything and travel as a lower-middle-class family. And he's decided the tyke is going to be easier to conceal and will have a better early life in general if they &lt;em&gt;disguise her as a boy!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The high dray-ma is almost too much for me, truth telling. Seems like the story is about half-way, if there's going to be much going on with them when they actually get to Gree....uh....&lt;em&gt;Hellas&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's On Track Word Count: &lt;strong&gt;33,340&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY actual word count: &lt;strong&gt;36,122&lt;/strong&gt; !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight covering both of my passions: writing on the novel from about 5:30 - 9:00 (when Barriques closes) then out to The Sow's Ear to knit until 11:00 when THEY close. I may do some surreptitious novelling while there too - there's another badge for that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-6716044665487930156?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/6716044665487930156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=6716044665487930156' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6716044665487930156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6716044665487930156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/11/time-marches-on.html' title='Time Marches On....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-1790660200392311800</id><published>2009-11-08T21:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T21:32:35.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'>(the sound of shackles falling away)....</title><content type='html'>I gave my presentation!  And lived to tell about it (more or less).  I did a final terror-ridden immersion type attempt to get my notes in order and thoughts cognizant right up to the last minute (which included fleeing out to the car because there was a chap in our dorm, where I went expecting no one to be there.  He was fussing around in his stuff and &lt;em&gt;whistling&lt;/em&gt;.  Very melodic but very repetitious, same phrase over and over.  I was howling some VERY unlady-like things at him top volume (but only in my head;  I am a LADY).&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was pretty disappointed in myself.  Felt like it was choppy, disconnected, farbled, garbled and wonky.  But several people came up "afters" and said nice things.  Well, I have time to really polish and streamline before delivering it at the senior center (where I have the great advantage of an audience of interested, curious people - who likely do NOT know waaaay more about it than I do!).  That NAVC crowd is a tough audience, what with every single one of 'em being Knowledegeable with a capital "K".&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, instead of being AHEAD on NaNoWriMo.......I'm behind!  Therefore I'm briefly updating blogs and then hunkering down (isn't that a great phrase, I can just SEE it) and trying to catch up and move ahead.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TIP to MYSELF:  arrange for meals.  I'm quite brilliant at describing tables full of comely, beautiful dishes and table settings, &amp;c at GREAT LENGTH (which is, after all, the name o' the game).  No new word count to list yet, but watch this space!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-1790660200392311800?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/1790660200392311800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=1790660200392311800' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/1790660200392311800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/1790660200392311800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/11/sound-of-shackles-falling-away.html' title='(the sound of shackles falling away)....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-884504788198267343</id><published>2009-11-06T08:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T08:51:22.977-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='procrastination'/><title type='text'>Oh am I going to pay....</title><content type='html'>I guess it was bound to happen. TWO important projects. One human being. (That human being being me.) I've alluded to my incredible Olympic powers of Procrastination. Well, it's turned into a beast and it's gnawing...GNAWING, I tell you...on my behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the scoop: I'm working on this program. It's an oral presentation, sort of a lecture. I found out when it has to be given: 3:00 pm tomorrow. And it's not an hour.......I have an hour &lt;em&gt;and a half&lt;/em&gt;. (I wonder how early I can ask for questions?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not ready for it. Now, I DO have the rest of today and some time tomorrow to work on it, but there are other things going on that I'm going to want to hear, and people to visit whom I only see once a year. And meals (believe me, the meals are reason enough to go!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the OTHER hand -- I have NOT neglected my NaNoWriMo novel (Bulwer-Lytton still has nothing to fear) and my daily word count is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11,085&lt;/strong&gt;.   Boo-yah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-884504788198267343?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/884504788198267343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=884504788198267343' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/884504788198267343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/884504788198267343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-am-i-going-to-pay.html' title='Oh am I going to pay....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-2896739574846650555</id><published>2009-11-03T17:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T18:03:11.937-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kick-off'/><title type='text'>Keep on keepin' on....</title><content type='html'>OK, so we had a Kick-Off for NaNoWriMo 2009.  Zombie Joe secured the use of the Italian Workmen's Club from 9-5 on Sunday, being 1 November;  the challenge actually began at midnight but SOME people (&lt;em&gt;not your reporter&lt;/em&gt;) live normal lives and sleep at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was interested to see the inside of the Club - I knew it had been a fixture during the 1920s and 1930s when the surrounding neighborhood was called "The Greenbush" and was a rich Italian neighborhood.  It proved to be a fairly plain big room now, with lots of long tables and at the head of the room a little counter and sort of kitchen-y bit.  When I arrived I wasn't sure I was in the right place, because I heard nothing.........but I discovered some 20 people or so bent over their respective laptops WRITING! There were also some stalwart souls using pens or pencils and notebooks.  I do love historical types....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, not taking much time to write THIS, as I have other writing to do -- not only my NaNo novel but that blasted report on the Metis.  I swear, when I say "Thank you - are there any questions?" at the end of my presentation I'm likely to burst into tears of gratitude that it's actually over.  (I hope there ARE no questions;  I'm threading facts and tales onto a pretty thin cord and any divergence is likely to produce a blank, trance-like stare.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this writing I have over 5,000 words;  I'm well within where I need to be.  Same thing is happening that I experienced last year:  I sit reading the text scrolling past on my screen, fascinated with it all....and my busy little fingers are just dancing along on the keyboard &lt;em&gt;all of their own&lt;/em&gt;.  I have NO connection to them, they're making the thing up as they go along.  I'll make occasional reports here but don't expect to post much more.  At 3,000 words I had experienced a birth, a death - and a naked Egyptian priest standing before the gold figure of Horus.  Who knows where it'll all end?  (Not ME, I can tell you that quick enough!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One change I WILL have to make at some point, but a simple "find-and-replace" will do it.  My characters right now are named XX, QQ, TH, RR.....and I want something a tad more creative in the final analysis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to work on my report;  the NaNo-ing takes place around midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTE:  I actually DID meet with two fellow local Wrimos at Perkins, at midnight on November 1.  They're a young married couple, absolutely delightful!  She's a very clever and artistic girl who moved here from Georgia;  her husband is a handsome young Norwegian Lutheran Minnesotan-type fella.  We had the most enchanting conversation for two hours....and then dutifully wrote a sentence or two each before departing for home.  I had a word count of 130 when I left.   I have caught up, and it was worth it.  FUN meeting new friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-2896739574846650555?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/2896739574846650555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=2896739574846650555' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2896739574846650555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2896739574846650555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/11/keep-on-keepin-on.html' title='Keep on keepin&apos; on....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-7569375610334635348</id><published>2009-10-29T00:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T01:15:20.822-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='preparation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anticipation'/><title type='text'>Three Days and -- some  hours</title><content type='html'>I am writing on ...well, actually the title should be "TWO Days -- some hours", as I'm writing at 2:36 AM on Thursday. This is good practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I learned, by participating in NaNWriMo, that my peak "writing time" begins at around 10:00 PM. So I expect to find myself writing around this time all month. I still don't have much in the way of any ideas, but progress HAS been made: I have two Writing Buddies and a couple of Vague Notions; the local fellow WriMos have spoken up on the &lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/"&gt;NaNoWriMo&lt;/a&gt; website and a Kick-Off party location and time has been set; quite a few folks have stated their intention to come. My friend James from last year has reconnected (even on Facebook!) and will be there, so there'll be at least one Familiar Friendly Face. Of course, this will NOT be a "social" for the most part, as we will all be hell-bent on launching our novels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week at the museum we're ("we" = Education Staff) going about in costume in honor of Halloween week. I'm wearing my very nice 1830 day dress (E-bay!) and portraying Rosaline Peck, first non-Indian woman living in Madison. She and her husband moved here and put up a cabin which became the first inn or boarding house; she acted as hostess to the guys who were building the first capitol building.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I struggled some with the length of the gown and the fact that the hooks up the front seemed to come open. I put on the pellerine (a sort of cape deal worn over that leg-o'-mutton style dress) which covered the hooks.&lt;br /&gt;I figured I could help the first problem with an extra petticoat, SOOOOOO today I did wear an extra petticoat, I wore a bit higher-heeled shoes.....and I realized that &lt;em&gt;I had worn it BACKWARDS.&lt;/em&gt; Yes indeedy, ladies and gennulmens, the hooks go up the BACK. MUCH less trouble today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder if that could be worked into the plot? OK, I'm taking a poll (short poll, I have no delusions about my vast readership):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ancient GREECE? or Ancient EGYPT?&lt;br /&gt;Magical and Fantastical? or Historical and "realistic"?&lt;br /&gt;First-person? Third person? Narrator?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just heard that some part of Colorado is socked in with heavy snows! We import our weather from the west, via Minnesota. &lt;em&gt;Laissez les bon temps ROULET!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-7569375610334635348?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/7569375610334635348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=7569375610334635348' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/7569375610334635348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/7569375610334635348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/10/three-days-and-some-hours.html' title='Three Days and -- some  hours'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-7323555273187711947</id><published>2009-10-25T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T09:15:16.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ONE WEEK!</title><content type='html'>OK, I thought I'd win the Worst Lousy Blogger award here -- but this year I lost. And get THIS! I lost to a housewife in New Zealand who &lt;em&gt;doesn't even have a computer&lt;/em&gt;!! I mean, I don't even see how she can be considered!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, rather than waste time on sour grapes.......no, by gumbo, I AM going to waste time on sour grapes, but being a writer I'll procrastinate and do it later.......just noting here that in ONE WEEK it will be Sunday again (duhhh) and the date will be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NOVEMBER 1, 2009.&lt;/strong&gt;  What that means is, it will be the first Official Day of NaNoWriMo!  Yes, I am participating again.  I'm all registered and everything.  I hear that rumbling "if she can't write a lousy BLOG but once every blue moon how can we believe she's going to crank out 1,667 words a DAY???"  Ah, well you may say that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But don't, because I don't have an answer.  Anyway, I mean to give it a shot and I'll try to document it here.  (Operative word, O Ye Naysayers:  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;TRY&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.)  Smartasses.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I'm off to begin the earliest preparations.  At this point I have:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No ideas&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No plans&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No plot&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No characters&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;....but an Iron Will (stop that cackling, you in the back) and my cherished little netbook which goes everywhere with me and has (I'm SO not making this up) something over FIVE HOURS' battery time on a full charge.  Take THAT, Barnes &amp;amp; Noble, with your two lousy outlets both in one corner of the cafe.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Watch.  This.  Space.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;written by dale-harriet, Optimist of the Century (for our region, which includes Lilac Lane only)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-7323555273187711947?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/7323555273187711947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=7323555273187711947' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/7323555273187711947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/7323555273187711947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-week.html' title='ONE WEEK!'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4432325327309585729</id><published>2009-08-25T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T08:09:47.458-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wandering back'/><title type='text'>The Reports of my Death.......</title><content type='html'>....are FALSE, I swear it!  On the other hand, considering that most of my reading for the intervening months between the last post and this have been about Spiritualists, Spiritualism, mediums, &amp;amp;c &amp;amp;c, if this WERE coming from the Great Beyond you might not even be able to tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOWEVER.  I think summertime just blasts me.  It's true, we like being outdoors and all, but I seem to have no inclination for a lot of my usual pursuits.  That -- and travelling great distances (which always knocks me off my pins) have largely occupied me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I &lt;em&gt;sense&lt;/em&gt; those first little tendrils of the Change of Seasons and am again settling in and getting out my stories and am beginning to feel the delicious calm that comes from tucking into my nest.   I'll be back (said in my best Schwarzenegger accent...) and there are good things ahead.  The Fall Retreat of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators is coming up (and I'm IN, although I almost missed the deadline) and ... then....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LAYDEEZ AND GENNULMENS, sharpen your pencils.  There's another NANOWRIMO on the horizon.  James, if I  haven't lost you ferever, let's be Non-Procrastination Pals this year!  (Are you going to do it again?  You BETTAH!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4432325327309585729?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4432325327309585729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4432325327309585729' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4432325327309585729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4432325327309585729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/08/reports-of-my-death.html' title='The Reports of my Death.......'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-948069968059613779</id><published>2009-06-02T01:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T01:58:38.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It is the Dawning.....</title><content type='html'>....well, maybe not of the Age of Aquarius -- but then again, maybe it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While there are still ten days of the "official prescribed"period of Mourning, I'm ready to Resume.  Resume almost all, if not actually ALL, of my daily round.  I still have minor meltdowns.  I &lt;em&gt;knew&lt;/em&gt; she'd die, and I sort of figured it might be before I did what with her dialysis and all.  But goldamnit, I was not READY to lose her.  But I've told her all that, and she's moving into  the place where are loved ones to whom I talk occasionally, rant periodically, and complain to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have another cherished friend, Toutee Gens du Bois (that was his historical reenactment name/character, a noble Shawnee warrior).  He is over there too, seated at the great Council Fire, and he's been in that place for some time.  I talk to him a lot when I'm in the car - I have a beautiful soft deerskin thong with a feather on each end which hangs over my rearview mirror;  I've put a tear-shaped crystal on one of the feathers and it reminds me of him.  So a dialogue might go something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toutee, did you see that @$)@*# cut in front of me?  He's on his %#)*@(&amp;amp;$ CELLPHONE for petessakesalive.  Aren't you glad you never saw crap like that?  Or...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toutee, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed.  Too much to do and no good sense to organize it in a manageable fashion.  Yes, yes - I know what you're telling me, as you used to:  "settle your mind, imagine your things to do laying in front of you in a semicircle, and arrange them to your satisfaction.  Then act."  Yeah - you're right, as usual.  Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I have another companion, my "sister" Sunawa, and a chat with her might go like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooooo.....it's been almost a month.  Are you having a good time there?  'Cause I saw something funny today and thought "I'm going over to Dialysis tomorrow and tell Sunawa about this because she won't believe it either......."  Oh.  No, wait - you're not going to BE at Dialysis tomorrow, or ever again, and HOT DAMN but that makes me SAD!  Well, I didn't come here to berate you, but I'm saving up all these funny stories, so when I get there prepare to be regaled.  That's all I can say.  Over and out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll never NOT do that, talk to those friends.   And when I go to the Spiritualist Camp (some time this summer) it's going to be VERY tempting to arrange a session with a medium and see if either of them has anything to tell me via that route.  But I don't know as I will.  (IF I do, you'll be the first to know, more or less.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, having established that my overweening wordiness hasn't apparently suffered, I can report what I came here to report.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my Writers' Group today, and I took along the first revision of the story I laid on them last time.  It's about a girl named "Endear" who lives some time around the end of the  18th century in some place settled (Ohio?) on a farm.  The deal is, Endear is keenly aware that she's a disappointment to her mother, who is a mistress of the finer needle arts, and in spite of now being a farmwife, is fully possessed of those qualities thought most desireable in a well-bred and genteel lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTE:  for years I've written short children's stories, and I've considered myself a Writer of Short Stories for Children.  Until VERY recently (since joining this group, really) I had NEVER done any rewrites or revisions, virtually.  I might change a phrase or polish a bit here and there, but actual &lt;em&gt;revision&lt;/em&gt;? Nope, hadn't done that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, OK, so I've been giving these short stories, but my colleagues in the group write &lt;em&gt;novels&lt;/em&gt;, so I thought I'd start this story in mind of something a little longer - I guess I'm thinking "YA".  So today, as I said, I took my first revision, based on their recommendations and suggestions from their first reading last month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Patty said, "You've NAILED it!"  (They've been telling me there has to be &lt;em&gt;conflict&lt;/em&gt;, and it has to appear near the start as a hook.)  Then Joan, my first-and-ONLY writing class teacher, said, "Here's your assignment - STICK WITH THIS."  Of course, the writing class was two winters ago, but it was she who invited me to join this august group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boils down to - I have a novel in the works, apparently.  A real, genuine, work-on-it writing job.  I'm surprised, a little intimidated, and very excited.  How's it going to come out?  What's at the end?  Couldn't begin to tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking a rough, skeletal Outline might not be amiss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-948069968059613779?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/948069968059613779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=948069968059613779' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/948069968059613779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/948069968059613779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/06/it-is-dawning.html' title='It is the Dawning.....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-158377542319617068</id><published>2009-05-12T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T07:58:25.479-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='convenience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ease'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gifts'/><title type='text'>NO EXCUSE!</title><content type='html'>Well...there never was an excuse. I write good stories - (if I didn't like the way there were I'd write them differently). My Writers' Group folks like my stories -- and being "real writers" offer brilliant suggestions and helpful criticisms which are as gifts to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my Husband, he who thinks of everything, pays attention, and makes my life truly the best it can be in all ways (I think in the vernacular, that's "a KEEPER"), gave me a present. And this present removes any excuse for not writing in every odd moment available, regardless of where I am, or when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, a couple of years ago he gave me my cherished laptop, which is a dream. I love it more than anything (but not .000001% as much as I love him, needless to say). Daisy (yes, I name everything, and she's a Dell) has given me so much FUN, and more than having access to the innerwebs, a source of wonder to my 66-year-old self, Daisy allows me to write whenever - and WHEREver, I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first purchase with my first &lt;em&gt;earned money&lt;/em&gt;, was a portable typewriter so I could go sit down by Lake Harriet (no relation) and write. Of course one can write anywhere, and "#2 Ticonderoga Word Processers" never run out of power or anything. But with Daisy I've spent happy hours at Panera or Atlanta Bread or the library........amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, being a spectacular laptop, Daisy is fairly large (lovely BIG monitor screen) and a bit heavy. Now, Mr Dearling has given me a wonderful bag which holds Daisy (safely) and all my files, a few books, all necessities and even a skein or two of yarn and related effluvia. AND it has wheels; doesn't hardly get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently, mine is a house of Mourning; this afternoon I am burying my dear friend of 38 years and I will be following the custom of &lt;em&gt;shiva&lt;/em&gt; and spending seven days quietly; I may not be doing much writing and I won't be blogging after the ceremony (for the seven days). But I have to mention something because I'm so pleased, and my friend would be tickled for me (now see, I think she IS - yes, I believe in the deceased being "with us").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our anniversary was Sunday, and although I spent the day with the rabbi and at the funeral home with my friend's partner, my cherished husband gave me my anniversary present anyway. (I gave him his present too - a book. It's one he really wanted, but HE is the giver of GIFTS.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My gift is a little sister for Daisy -- a &lt;em&gt;netbook!&lt;/em&gt; Yes, I have an extremely portable, tee-tiny little laptop, to literally carry in my daily tote with my daily stuff, where she'll not even be noticeable. (Yes, "she" -- HERMIONE.) So if I just want to jot something, or have a quick idea, or want to work on something while waiting for something........I'll have Hermione. Brilliant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I ever mention that my 4th grade teacher told us "one day, you'll have adding machines and &lt;em&gt;typewriters&lt;/em&gt; you can carry in your pockets". Well, Hermione is JUST past fitting into my pocket, but fits in my daily tote bag; she's about the size of a book, and much thinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And get this: Hermione has....SEVEN HOURS' WORTH OF BATTERY POWER!! (And I've tested her, she really does; turning down the brightness of the screen and doing a few other things bumps it up to eight hours. So I don't even need to take my wonderful rolling case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Replacement for Daisy, you say? OH NO, not by a looooong shot. But for perfection of convenience for the little things, the moments - can you imagine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My teacher was a visionary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And my beloved, my darling, my husband....no single word can express my gratitude; I take some comfort in knowing that you &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-158377542319617068?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/158377542319617068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=158377542319617068' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/158377542319617068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/158377542319617068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-excuse.html' title='NO EXCUSE!'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-8799786664815589915</id><published>2009-04-25T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T20:27:49.200-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='procrastination'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laziness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Knock, knock.....Who's there?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SfPHohpd5FI/AAAAAAAAB_U/Gv9a9SZSJro/s1600-h/Sacred+Bear+Mother+%26+Cub.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328822283150419026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SfPHohpd5FI/AAAAAAAAB_U/Gv9a9SZSJro/s320/Sacred+Bear+Mother+%26+Cub.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; OPPORTUNITY! No, wait - that's not how "knock knock" jokes go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that seems to be the fact of it. (By the way, this is my little figure of the Bear Goddess and Her Cub. Why is she here? Let me put it this way: this post refers to things which some might consider luck, fate, serendipity....perhaps even synchronicity. And I attribute such things to my little friend, the Bear Mother. Quirky? Yeah, I'll buy that.) To quote our birthday boy (two days ago): "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So who is this Opportunity, who has come knocking? Ah, therein lies a tale. Pull up a little tuffet, Grasshoppah, and I will relate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been a lazy writer these last couple of months. No, worse. I've been a NON-WRITER. I've written almost nothing since - yes, since I had to have something to take with me to my Writers' Group in March. I started a new story for the occasion, and I think it's a good one. And since then? Nothing. Nada. Nischt. Zippo. Zero. Crickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Might I add - two writing colleagues have made offers, one to participate in a short version of NaNoWriMo, and one to join her in some pieces from a book of writing exercises. What do you call it - ennui? Block. Or...let's call it like it is. "Hello. My name is Lazy McProcrastipants, and I'm a Writer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But see, I &lt;b&gt;am &lt;/b&gt;a writer. I have ideas, I have a new stack of scraps with ideas which - at 3:28 AM sounded like Brilliant Young Adult Novels. I have the desire. And I have a gleaming, shimmering casque of lame excuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I really AM supposed to be writing,and in spite of all of it, The Powers That Be make it perfectly clear. And they have done it with two incidents which I cannot ignore or misinterpret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First - a chance comment which I might have mentioned before: at State History Day the Editor of the State Historical Society Press suggested I might write a Badger Biography (series of books about notable Wisconsinites for young people) about Mary Hayes Chynoweth. Now, if that's not an Opportunity, polished up, dusted off, gift-wrapped and dropped in my lap......then nothing is. As in: if I don't act on this I deserve to have all my Ebony pencils taken away and my dictionaries impounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second? Today I went to the SCBWI Spring Luncheon; I went with one of my fellow members of my Writing Group AND another local writer and member whom I had not met before who had asked if she could ride along. I feel bit like a wannabe in such a group of published, accomplished, clever writers and illustrators, but then, I DO want to be like them, for real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the ride (to Oconomowoc, where the luncheon was held) we three conversed, of course, and (ready for this?) the woman whom I met for the first time in the car on the ride has written Badger Bios in the past and has just launched a new one, a biography of Gaylord Nelson, father of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Earth_Day"&gt;Earth Day &lt;/a&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I mentioned that I was considering submitting a proposal for a Badger Bio about my Spiritualist Healer (on account of 1) it being mentioned by the SHS Press Editor; and 2)because I'm already elbow-deep in research about her anyway, for my portrayal) she said she thought it would be a very GOOD idea and mentioned a few little tips and thoughts, advice from one who has written those bios and gotten them published.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's run this past once more: I am immersed in research about a very interesting Wisconsin character; the SHS Press editor (a former colleague from my job at American Girl) runs into me at the History Day affair; the selfsame editor suggested that I put in a proposal for a Badger Bio; I meet a current author of books in this very series; she offers tips and hints for success in the writing of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well! You don't need to hit ME over the head with an L.C.Smith &amp;amp; Corona. I have a new project on the drawing board. How's that for incentive, inspiration, a little prod in the tushie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - and my Writers' Group has its next meeting Monday (day-after-tomorrow)....and as Fate would have it, the meeting is AT. MY. HOUSE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch this space, news at 11:00.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-8799786664815589915?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/8799786664815589915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=8799786664815589915' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/8799786664815589915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/8799786664815589915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/04/knock-knockwhos-there.html' title='Knock, knock.....Who&apos;s there?'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SfPHohpd5FI/AAAAAAAAB_U/Gv9a9SZSJro/s72-c/Sacred+Bear+Mother+%26+Cub.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-3522824119971896213</id><published>2009-04-16T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T11:04:58.152-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy 50th birthday--'/><title type='text'>I'd NEVER have guessed.....</title><content type='html'>....he was half-a-century old!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SedtpQFGpQI/AAAAAAAAB94/-zKY6mrwDoo/s1600-h/The+Birthday+Boy,+0409.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325345639847339266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SedtpQFGpQI/AAAAAAAAB94/-zKY6mrwDoo/s320/The+Birthday+Boy,+0409.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Happy Birthday to you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Happy Birthday to you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Happy &lt;strong&gt;50th Birthday&lt;/strong&gt; dear Strunk &amp;amp; Whi-i-i-i-i-te,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Happy Birthday, to you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can you believe it? Today, 16 April, is the 50th birthday of Strunk &amp;amp; White. They've put out a very fancy &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Elements-Style-50th-Anniversary/dp/0205632645"&gt;Anniversary Edition&lt;/a&gt; in honor of the occasion.  Now, the edition I have (and anyone reading this, and any writer in North America - at least - and frankly everyone else in the world SHOULD have an edition) is the Third Edition.  My understanding is that the additions to the new one are nice enough, but the reviews seem to indicate that it's not enough change to go nuts to get the new one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;One thing that IS in the new edition (I heard this on NPR) is Dorothy Parker's quote regarding &lt;em&gt;Elements of Style, &lt;/em&gt;as follows:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they're happy." -- Dorothy Parker, Esquire &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;If you don't have a copy, RUN, do not walk, to your nearest Half-Price Books or other used bookstore, college bookshop, anything, and buy it.  (Or if you're That Sort, go get the fancy-schmancy one......even though I don't need it, of course, I might get one just because I'm a hopeless bibliophile-addict.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-3522824119971896213?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/3522824119971896213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=3522824119971896213' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3522824119971896213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3522824119971896213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/04/id-never-have-guessed.html' title='I&apos;d NEVER have guessed.....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SedtpQFGpQI/AAAAAAAAB94/-zKY6mrwDoo/s72-c/The+Birthday+Boy,+0409.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-8911095586802981595</id><published>2009-04-03T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T18:52:57.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At the risk of repetition...</title><content type='html'>I mean&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt; to post this here......but put it here instead:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.catssticksandbooks.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.catssticksandbooks.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dale-harriet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Editor's note:  After that rant on inaccuracies over at the other blog - *I* made an error here.  What I mean&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt;  to say was "meant";  what I HAD said was "mean".  Typo, typo....with thanks to my Lovely Daughter for noticing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-8911095586802981595?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/8911095586802981595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=8911095586802981595' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/8911095586802981595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/8911095586802981595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/04/at-risk-of-repetition.html' title='At the risk of repetition...'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-1267464048519856734</id><published>2009-03-29T08:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T11:32:42.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/Sc-nJUiPzwI/AAAAAAAAB6I/8WJMpZnECM0/s1600-h/Yes,+something+you+want.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318653463520857858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/Sc-nJUiPzwI/AAAAAAAAB6I/8WJMpZnECM0/s200/Yes,+something+you+want.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Ever have the feeling you're being looked at? No...more than that. &lt;em&gt;PERUSED &lt;/em&gt;? So I started wondering why she was looking at me that way. Then I realized. She's reading my mind. She knows my innermost thoughts. And she's saying "Aren't you supposed to be &lt;em&gt;writing something &lt;/em&gt;? And I reply "I AM writing something. Blogs are 'something'. Go to sleep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know that she knows. Because I AM supposed to be writing something, and it's not a blogpost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was the Regional State History Day competition, and we went as Judges (we've done that for a few years; it's quite the experience). This year I judged "Documentaries". These are kids from all over the state who've probably succeeded in some school event and now they've come to The Capital City. The ones who succceed here advance to the State competition (it's in May, also here). And the winners THAT day go to the National Competition, in Washington DC. I can tell you that Wisconsin sends on some awfully fine work - I've never followed up to see how we do in the Nationals but it's hard for me to imagine work better than what I see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK - "Documentaries" means they've put together a film - they're allowed ten minutes. It has to be along the lines of something seen on PBS, more or less. The theme this year was: &lt;b&gt;The Individual in History: Actions and Legacies&lt;/b&gt;. That's it - it could be ANY individual, not restricted to Wisconsin or even America, actually. The mind reels. Charlemagne! Queen Elizabeth I! Steve Irwin! Even movie stars could be the topic, if one could prove up some legacies. Might I add, the topics are ALWAYS some form of this, and the thoughtful or creative student would have almost no limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I judged "Exhbits" and there was one brilliant one done by a girl perhaps 12 years old on Polio. She had the facts, she had illustrations, conclusions - it was really splendid. In her interview I asked how she happened to decide on her topic. She said, "I came upon the word 'polio' in something I was reading, and I didn't have any idea what it was." Think about THAT! I instantly recalled those television spots showing Sister Kenny exercising the atrophied limbs of little children who were crying in pain........and this child did not know what the word meant. See why I like to go judge?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, this year I had "Senior Individual Documentaries". That means that each was the work of a kid between 9th and 12th grade, working alone. (There are strict guidelines about how much - and from whom - they can have assistance.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not lost on me that this &lt;em&gt;little kids &lt;/em&gt;were producing technology that I'd never heard of in school. I was prepared to be knocked off my pins. I always am. This year - I wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/Sc-ug9mVzJI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/wVwgQoXSJTQ/s1600-h/Complacency.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318661566262267026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/Sc-ug9mVzJI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/wVwgQoXSJTQ/s200/Complacency.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(&lt;em&gt;I think blogs need pictures, even if they don't relate. Sue me.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Oh, the technology wasn't bad for the most part. They were films, they had fades and music (some of 'em) and illustrations. Only one had text - the rest were slide shows, pretty much. I put myself in a frame of mind to envision watching a documentary on television: I should learn something about the person, I should see how their actions or experiences had an impact on their community, or state, or country. Before we watch the films we (oh - judging is done by teams of three people) look over the students' process paper and bibliography. This should indicate an idea of how they decided on their topic, something about their methods of production - and then the list of primary and secondary sources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this day and age we have to be watchful -- 34 citations from Wickepedia? Nawww. And I noticed very FEW citations from actual books, perhaps only one or two from newspapers. The rest were ALL from the Internet, not necessarily a failing, but come ON, boys and girls. There was a lot of material out there before there WAS an Internet and the information is still valid. It almost seemed like the kids think that, unless it IS on the 'net, it's dubious. Oy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of the expected entries didn't show, leaving us with five. I consider an entry (in any category) a success if it either piques my curiosity, makes me want to look up some of their sources for more information or leads me to want more information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the programs was on Steenbock, a university scientist responsible for the establishment of the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation (WARF). That was the best of the lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was one on Amelia Earhart, which had SO MUCH potential! It wasn't bad but it didn't even touch on what it might have. There was one on Steve Jobs (of MAC fame, infamy and fame again). It was fair. Zona Gale was represented too - and again, it could've been tighter and more informative; it was mostly pictures of the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there was one that presented a problem. Now - allow me to say this: what I AM going to be writing today is the Comments. We judges get sheets on which to tick off points for various things, (Analysis and Interpretation, Historical Context, Wide Research) and then we must write a sheet of comments - things that we liked, ways in which it might have been a little more polished, &amp;amp;c. The thing is, these kids work hard, and long - for months - and then come to Madison .... sometimes from tiny schools upstate, and it's a HUGE DEAL for them. If their work isn't impressive, the labor behind it is, just the same. And one of the main things is that we want them to have enjoyed the entire process, and perhaps develop an interest, an enthusiasm, for history along the way. I'm good at writing positive, inspiring, appreciative comments, even for the ones that are pretty lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one in my group - is going to be more of a challenge than I've faced before. It was a documentary about a girl named Sylvia Likens. Here's a link to the entry in Wikipedia: &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvia_Likens"&gt;about her &lt;/a&gt;and it pretty much tells the same story shown in the documentary. The recorded narration was just that...didn't include any conclusions. The process paper concludes that this girl's legacy was that she stayed strong to the end and became "one of the most iconic victims of abuse in the United States." (I haven't gone through her citations yet, but I'm sure to find that phrase.)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Thing is - there was no information in the documentary about the victim's character, and nothing about the solution other than a mention of the penalty given to the main abuser (a jail term). I was waiting for some information about a law passed, or a change in methods of reporting or investigating abuse....nothing. Oh - and the girl died in 1965. There are six pages of bibliography - and every single citation is a website origin of one of the images used. Not one single newspaper article, no reference to a newscast - the only exception is the citation of the film made (fictionalized) that premiered at the 2007 Sundance Festival (to some acclaim)about the incident. Now - we judges, in talking later, had a couple of wonderings: &lt;em&gt;where was the student's TEACHER? They're supposed to provide guidance, assistance and support - did a teacher KNOW she was using this topic? And if so, &lt;b&gt;W T F??&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Also, the student said that she'd decided on her topic after watching the film about the incident &lt;em&gt;with her mother&lt;/em&gt;. I repeat, &lt;em&gt;&lt;b&gt;W T F&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/em&gt;??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, most of the judges fill out their judging forms at the site in the afternoon and turn them in. My husband and I have gotten dispensation - we bring them home and TYPE them up, turning them in early Monday morning. Our feeling is that we want to put some serious and thoughtful work into the comments, considering the time put into these projects by the youngsters. So that's what I'll be writing today (procrastinating?? who said that?!?!?!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm saving the Sylvia Likens one for last, because I'm going to have to drag out the BIG BAG of words to form sentences of encouragement and gratitude for doing the project at all. I'm going to have a tablet next to me on which I can scribble the things I can't say to her: &lt;em&gt;Is something unhappy in your own home, that led this girl's story to appeal to you? Are you fascinated with this story - beyond the usual delicious interest all kids have in the Grotesque? Have you talked to your mom or a counselor?&lt;/em&gt; I won't say any of that and have no reason to even think it. But the whole documentary and the whole process paper and the whole (lame) "bibliography" made me feel really, really sad. Need I add that her film is NOT going on to State competition? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/Sc-5mwx325I/AAAAAAAAB6Y/23kGh7ox6FE/s1600-h/Pere+Jacques.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318673760528096146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/Sc-5mwx325I/AAAAAAAAB6Y/23kGh7ox6FE/s320/Pere+Jacques.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;A picture of HOPE, from last summer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-1267464048519856734?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/1267464048519856734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=1267464048519856734' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/1267464048519856734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/1267464048519856734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/03/observations.html' title='Observations'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/Sc-nJUiPzwI/AAAAAAAAB6I/8WJMpZnECM0/s72-c/Yes,+something+you+want.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-2034864536632232615</id><published>2009-03-23T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T20:54:08.582-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Learning Curve</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Man would you just LOOK at the dust around here! Boy, this is some kind o' scandal. "Nice bloggin', Dale-Harriet." And this a &lt;em&gt;writing blog?&lt;/em&gt; Swell. Dandy. Fine. OK - so what's yer excuse, Dale-Harriet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(silence)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WELL? What do you have to say for yourself, Mrs WRITER WOMAN? How're you explaining this, what lame kind of excuse are you going to insult us with, after this length of time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(silence...but head hanging in shame)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;{major sigh} OK, let me try this: I've read that writers procrastinate. In fact, I've heard that &lt;em&gt;the best writers are terrible procrastinators.&lt;/em&gt; Do you realize what this means? *I* am in that rarified group called "the best writers"! No, huh? Oh, OK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is - I don't really know. I &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; haven't managed to sit down and chew through my NaNoWriMo, start to finish. Furthermore, I've dibbled here and dabbled there, but haven't really written much of anything for EVER so long. I couldn't go to my last Writers' Group meeting -- see, I was sick. (Furthermore? I didn't have one single word of anything that I could take along. That alone made me a little queasy.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the old days - we're talking the early 1950s when I was in elementary school (Eugene Field, no less) I used to get this heady feeling the last week of school every spring. Oh, I know, "everyone does".......but mine wasn't a "No more tests, no more books, no more Teacher's dirty looks" sort of thing. It was a "oh goody, now I can &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; get some learning done!!" (That's TWO exclamation points' worth.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SchCvBbM2UI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/JVavAQS46JI/s1600-h/grilled+brats+Wisconsin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316572735714679106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SchCvBbM2UI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/JVavAQS46JI/s320/grilled+brats+Wisconsin.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Gratuitous Grilled Brats Picture&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now then, what was I saying? Warm weather...meal time...no. No, it was something else. OH yes, summer vacation! OK - so what that meant was, as soon as school was out I headed for the library. I spent my happiest summer days reading about whatever it was caught my fancy at that particular time. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year it was Ancient Greece. I studied books of myths, and read about all the gods. I looked into the festivals and found costume books with illustrations of the Stola and Pallas. I found out what I could about the diet and about the different roles of different genders and classes. I even borrowed a book that taught me the Greek alphabet and a few words of vocabulary. (The only one I remember is "tatto", which meant "tactics".)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I also tried to "live the Greek life" that summer. I refused to wear anything but a white bedsheet, draped in the appropriate way (Mommy wouldn't let me out of the house dressed that way); I didn't want to bathe but rubbed a "fragrant oil" into my body. (I wanted Mommy to buy me some fine white sand to rub my skin with, too. She wouldn't.) I wanted to recline at my meals, drink only grape juice and have honeyed fowl stuffed with dates and almonds. (Mommy wouldn't do any of that either.) Now...I have to say - in retrospect (and suggested by my sister a while back) I was probably a 24k paininth'arse to my poor, traditional, accomplished 1950s housewife Mommy. This was just revealed to me last summer. I feel confident that it's correct. Oh - I think I was nine years old for my Greek summer. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;The next year it was Ancient Egypt. I outlined my eyes in "kohl" (ok, so it was Maybelline, shut up). My ancient Greek scented oil served to slick my hair down. (Think on that.) It was the best I could do - this was pre-Internet so I didn't have an ice cube's chance in Hell to find cones of solid perfume to wear on my head.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I tried again for the honeyed fowl stuffed with dates and figs and almonds. Mommy said "NO" again. I wanted coarse whole-wheat bread. I wanted to drink beer mixed with honey. But hey, I agreed to sit at the table! Mommy said "NO!" I read about all the numerous gods and goddesses - and worshipped a select few. I studied hieroglyphics most earnestly. Mommy wouldn't look for "white pleated linen so fine you could see through it" so I wore t-shirts and shorts. It was a great summer -- from my point of view.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;NOTE: As I sit here, I have a nagging worry - I hope none of that affected my poor mother's long-time history of severe migraines. She had them before I came along - but I do here apologize to her for being such a trial and I will tell her so, should the opportunity present itself in the Other World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Have I ever mentioned on this blog that I digress? No? Well....I do. FYI. Enjoy another gratuitous picture:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SchI_7npJcI/AAAAAAAAB4g/8DaCtA950BU/s1600-h/I+love+zee+zucchinis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316579623283795394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SchI_7npJcI/AAAAAAAAB4g/8DaCtA950BU/s320/I+love+zee+zucchinis.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I am LAWVINGK on these zucchinis!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;All right, so here's the deal. It's SPRINGTIME again. We're fast approaching what my internal clock tells me is "Out for Summer Vacation" -- and I'm feeling all over INSPIRED again! What all this boils down to is....today was my Writers' Group meeting again. I got up at 6:30 AM and wrote until 9:30 when I had to leave. I had a named character and not much else. ("Endear Louisa Hannah P---".) She was given a journal for her birthday ("today" in the story) and it's the third part of the 18th century, on a farm, probably in Ohio or thereabouts. She has two brothers, a baby sister, a genteel, well-bred mother and an educated father who now farms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I took it with me to Writers' Group. (Just call me "cheeky as all hell", I deserve it.) They liked it! P and S said I have an "incredible &lt;em&gt;voice&lt;/em&gt;" and a "gift with descriptions and evocative scenes". J said I needed only &lt;em&gt;conflict&lt;/em&gt;, and JP gave me some suggestions, which the others added to: I suggested that the baby sister might die -- there was a suggestion that she might have died prior to the beginning, perhaps the journal was a gift to help her deal with the death. She might feel guilty about it - or be responsible for it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And wonderful questions were posed: Why is this educated father farming now? What factors are responsible for the parents, who seem to be "citified" and scholarly, winding up in humble means on a farm anyway? I thought perhaps the mother is pregnant again...and perhaps she could die in childbirth. Endear reads and writes, and her father is educating her -- she dislikes her training from Mother in needlework and "womanly arts".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Bottom line? I now have a better handle on what is meant by &lt;em&gt;conflict;&lt;/em&gt; I have some further ideas for this story; I have the "school's out and I'm inspired" feeling; I'm feeling motivated to truly de-crappify my nest this spring -- and I'm inspired to write again. It all feels very, very good indeed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Now then..........gotta go buy me some brats.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-2034864536632232615?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/2034864536632232615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=2034864536632232615' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2034864536632232615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2034864536632232615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/03/learning-curve.html' title='Learning Curve'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SchCvBbM2UI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/JVavAQS46JI/s72-c/grilled+brats+Wisconsin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-657592829780040643</id><published>2009-02-05T03:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T03:19:05.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like the Sands through the Hourglass.....</title><content type='html'>....time is ever slipping, slipping.  (You thought I was going to say something relating to the soap opera, didn't you?)  Anyway, owing to a round of busy-at-the-Museum ... I haven't taken time to visit here.  We're doing a lot more Outreach programs, and they require some advance preparation, even the ones we've done a few times.  Gotta keep 'em fresh for the new audience, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, &lt;em&gt;not writing the blog&lt;/em&gt; in this case also means &lt;strong&gt;not writing&lt;/strong&gt;.  Not on my novel, not any short stories, no editing, no polishing ... just plain no writing.  And this is not good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if THAT doesn't make me feel crappy enough --- my birthday resolution of at least SUBMITTING in this, my 65th year, has fallen by the wayside too, and that bums me out more than I even thought it would.  I am BIG-TIME BUMMED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooooo....I'm renewing the resolution and adding to it.  I admit, these are Intentions, and at this rate I'll be sailing straight to Hell in a galleon of gold with sails of shimmering silver silk.  With a fancy dining room serving gourmet fare.  "I'll take the baby back ribs, thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am redeemed (&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;in the  tiniest most insignificant way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;by the fact that I am, at least, &lt;em&gt;reading&lt;/em&gt;, and at the top of my list is "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle", a Wisconsin-based story.  It's a first novel (oh GROOAAN!) by a fellow who grew up in Wisconsin, though he lives somewhere else now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's also an Oprah Book Club book;  normally any designation  of "best-seller" is an instant turn-off for me.  When there's been weeks and weeks of hypehypehypehype I get turned off, and I suspect it's because prior to my feeling this way I DID read some such books and discovered that none of them fit the buzz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book is an exception, though.  I've avoided reading or listening to ANYTHING about the book past the mention on NPR.  It was at the top of my "when-I-get-out-to-Barnes&amp;amp;Noble" list.........but then the truly &lt;em&gt;dear&lt;/em&gt; coordinator at one of the senior centers we go to (see "Outreach", above) gave us a copy as a thank-you gift!  I was really excited to have it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now -- for me, it's  NOT a fast, can'tputitdown kind of  book.  It's a delicious book to be read slowly and savoured, and that's how I'm reading it.  While it's  not as evocative as some things it's a strong story being told well.  When I finish it, I think I'll incorporate it into our program on Wisconsin authors, because I think it merits attention for the guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First novel indeed!  Hmph!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-657592829780040643?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/657592829780040643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=657592829780040643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/657592829780040643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/657592829780040643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/02/like-sands-through-hourglass.html' title='Like the Sands through the Hourglass.....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4688317640297911077</id><published>2009-01-24T09:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T09:37:03.567-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shaking off the Dust....</title><content type='html'>Well!  I think I've recovered from the Inauguration.  I got myself all prepared for it (fortunately I didn't have to work or anything).  I had two knitting projects, a BIG box of tissues (knowing myself as I do), a pot of tea and a notebook and pencil lest I should have any impressions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - I also had the husband buy me some DVDS....I'd never recorded anything on a DVD but I figured it was probably not a good idea to tape it on VHS.  So there I was, and the whole thing unfolded.  There were about 9.4 bazillion people in Washington - and I venture to say that there were probably not many people in the country not watching.  Well...I know some people had to work and couldn't, and some really didn't have the means, and of course there were people who felt as *I* did for the last two Inaugurations - not worth watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the whole Witness to History thing got to me big-time, Civil Rights Worker that I was/am.  I guess my thinking now is that we have a man singularly appropriate for the job at hand, a man wise enough and young enough and bright enough to at least be able to sort OUT the nasty knot that the country seems to be in, and because his message is that we are ALL going to have to work on it, I'm betting that.......in time.....with a lot of crossing and pulling and tugging and following loops to their ends, that we'll be able to put back the skein into some semblance of order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretty much wept through the whole thing, but I downright CRIED when I saw the ancient Tuskegee Airmen standing there, or saw Dr. King's son (who looks much like his father).  And I cried over things like seeing the President {yay} and the First Lady {yay} hold &lt;em&gt;hands&lt;/em&gt; as they walked along the parade route.  Later in the evening I watched some of the Balls that they had to go to (I imagine by then they BOTH wanted nothing but a glass of orange juice and a hot bath) and I watched them dance together and it struck me that anyone watching them, who maybe didn't even know who they were, would still have two impressions:  1)  those are some TALL FOLKS;  and 2) they really do care for each other, deeply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The contrasts between the "current Administration" and the last are as glaring as being taken from icy water into a soft, warm blanket.....and I've been reading blog comments all over the place and it seems to me that by FAR the greater number of "my fellow Amurricans" are saying things like "hope" and "optimism" and "relief".  And you know - if it was the SELF-SAME guy, and even he wasn't black, I think we'd be saying the same things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand Ashton  Kucher.  (How's that for a topic change?)  Anyway, I never liked "Punked" or any of that stuff.  But he (!) said something that I found one of the most inspiring things said during all that long day.  I'm probably paraphrasing, but what he said went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;"I've seen Presidents hand off the baton to Presidents -- but this is the first time I've seen the President hand the baton to the people."  It's true, the whole message is that we're in this grim, sticky, war-filled pool, watching the whole economy not only fall into the toilet but &lt;em&gt;hearing it flush&lt;/em&gt;, and yet -- by gum, if we ALL put some effort into it, we will be able to get out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that there are children in the White House again.  I love that our First Lady wore a gown designed by some 26-year-old kid (whose name will now be preserved.....with the gown.....in the Smithsonian).  I love that she orders stuff online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that Obama took a train and hung out the back waving at people (like Lincoln).  I like that he used Lincoln's Bible to take the Oath on.  I like that he ate pheasants from Wisconsin at his fancypants Inaugural luncheon (and that it was somehow like Lincoln's too).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I like the fact that we have a President in whom I have some faith.  But it makes me wonder....what are John Stewart and Stephen Colbert going to talk about?  (In the words of me aul' mother o' blessed memory, "may that be the worst problem you have all  year!")&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4688317640297911077?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4688317640297911077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4688317640297911077' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4688317640297911077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4688317640297911077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/01/shaking-off-dust.html' title='Shaking off the Dust....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-3329707877884276037</id><published>2009-01-15T21:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T22:51:05.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking of Wigwams.......</title><content type='html'>If you look at any blogs being written in Wisconsin you'll see the same story: it's about -22 degrees outside this evening (and if you take into account "Wind Chill" factors, it's about &lt;strong&gt;-47&lt;/strong&gt; degrees).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Wisconsin terms, when it's colder than twenty degrees &lt;em&gt;below zero&lt;/em&gt;, we concede that it's "gettin' there". It's pretty cool out.....downright chilly. When it drops below about thirty degrees below zero (especially before wind chill) we nod wisely and say, "Uhn-huh....gettin' cold. Pretty cold out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, on the flip side, when Weatherman Gary announces that it may be up to 34 degrees &lt;em&gt;above&lt;/em&gt; zero next week - even if it IS still January, we start rooting through the drawers to find shorts and tank tops, because clearly summer is right around the corner. And believe me -- when it gets up to +50 degrees in March we WILL be going out in sweatshirts. It's all relative, and we have a saying here: "If you don't &lt;em&gt;like&lt;/em&gt; the weather.........just wait a minute." (We have been known to have three distinct seasons -- between sun-up and sundown, in one day.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what has that to do with wigwams?  Well, think about this:  in the Old Days, it would be lovely and snug in the wigwam.  The sleeping mats are drawn close to the glowing fire, the buffalo robes and beaver-pelt covers are warm.  But then -- nature calls.  Imagining this I thank the Powers that Be once again for the brilliant thinking that evolved into the Indoor Bif, for which I am eternally grateful.  Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the writing front -- I did a little tidying-up of the first ten pages of my NaNo novel (!) and boldly took it with me to my Writing Group. I felt cheeky as all get-out, truth to tell -- but I did it. Now, I have to admit - the first few pages I was really writing -- I got into the heavy-duty padding a little later on. I was more nervous than usual - I've taken short stories with me up until now and gotten excellent meaty comments and some decent feedback. A "novel" is a whole different pig race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well -- I &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; get the anticipated good comments, some descriptions of such things as "point of view", &amp;amp;c, and two comments which I took particularly to heart -- no, three actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. They said that they DO all agree that those first moments intimate a story worth telling, and that I definitely SHOULD continue with the salvage plan;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My long suit is, without any doubt, &lt;em&gt;description&lt;/em&gt;, and they all enjoy my descriptions. Stephanie again said various bits were &lt;strong&gt;evocative&lt;/strong&gt;, which is, in my mind, about the highest praise. "Evocative", to me, is the imaginative creation of an experience, and when I read stories that *I* feel evocative I am one happy reader;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the 3rd comment, which truly went to my core: I think it was Patty said it but the others concurred: I should start to think past "short stories" and begin planning and anticipating longer works, perhaps YA - but in the realm of NOVEL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those group meetings are always stimulating, inspiring -- but I thought that was really something. What it means, of course, is that I'm going to have to buckle down even more, start to get much more serious, and instead of fancying myself a writer I'm going to have to accept and embrace the identity of "Writer" and act like one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new-found discipline that saw me keeping up the word count every single day during NaNoWriMo has .... waned, diminished, faded - and must be revived and stimluated. I'm not going to say "Resolution"....but I'm going to try to establish some compartments in my daily turn. I'm easily distracted (OK, I'll wait while you laugh your behinds off, wipe your eyes and regain control) but c'mon, after 10:30 pm I have a chunk of time Entirely My Own, and I'm going to try to establish a genuine habit of going into my writing room and ... you know, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;writing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! (The sad part? The reason I'm going for 10:30 pm is that theres nothing I want to see on the teevee after that. Sheesh.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So......no resolutions, but I'm going to make a little list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Reduce the amount of time spent in front of the teevee&lt;br /&gt;2. Fill the time away from the teevee with knitting or reading (or knitting AND reading)&lt;br /&gt;3. Except for the Tuesday Night Conference online, keep Daisy in the Writing Room. (Note to self: if you try to watch the teevee AND write or work on the computer, it doesn't work.)&lt;br /&gt;4. Sublist: items requiring genuine research, and it is NOT one minute too soon:&lt;br /&gt;a) Mary Hayes-Chnoweth&lt;br /&gt;b) The Metis Wife and Mother in the Fur Trade&lt;br /&gt;c) that lady doctor up north&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put in scheduled time to work on not only &lt;em&gt;the&lt;/em&gt; novel but the other ideas -- and last -- set a goal for myself, a deadline, and actually DO submit the stories the Group told me to submit. Those magazines aren't going to come to the door asking for something to publish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.   Now then - to work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SXAoosrytzI/AAAAAAAABuM/lGP-P-W9q48/s1600-h/Writer+-+writing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291774241815050034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SXAoosrytzI/AAAAAAAABuM/lGP-P-W9q48/s200/Writer+-+writing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-3329707877884276037?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/3329707877884276037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=3329707877884276037' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3329707877884276037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3329707877884276037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/01/thinking-of-wigwams.html' title='Thinking of Wigwams.......'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SXAoosrytzI/AAAAAAAABuM/lGP-P-W9q48/s72-c/Writer+-+writing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-1916593693860895227</id><published>2009-01-10T07:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T08:19:24.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That's not a windstorm.....</title><content type='html'>....it's ME, sighing with relief.  All the busy and all the fussy and all the anticipation that lead up to the holidays are past, and so are the holidays.  I love 'em, but the older I get the happier I am with my good ol' routine, with my normal daily round (or what passes for &lt;em&gt;normal&lt;/em&gt; anyway).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009!  I remember sitting in my little desk at Eugene Field Elementary School in Minneapolis -- it must have been about 1951, and thinking, for some reason, "I wonder if I'll still be alive when it goes from 19-- to 20--?"  I also remember being just tickled when we could finally write "1956", although I've no idea why.  No, wait -- I think I turned 13 that year, maybe that was it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And following that thought - when I WAS 13 my sister was away at college and I had my parents and the house to myself as though I were an only child.  The only thing I really remember of &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; was that, a few days after she'd left (she went to school in Ann Arbor) Mom and Dad and I went to try out a new thing in our neighborhood:  a PIZZA place!  And of that?  What I remember most was the novelty of being out for dinner (a rarity) AND of it being "just the three of us".  Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Have I ever pointed out, here, that I tend to DIGRESS?  I'll apologize right here for it because it's going to happen again.  And again.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now then - my NaNoWriMo novel.  Can you believe it?  I still haven't just gone back and read it straight through!!  I might be just a little bit afraid to -- but the Husband has.  He said he liked it, and did say that it would be worth going back to edit.  It was pretty clear to him that there were vast sections where I'd been really trying for word count (well fer SHER) but it was his opinion that there may be a salvageable story in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not much one for Resolutions;  seems to me they're self-defeating.  But I think that I'll make a Decision for the New Year, and that's to do it.  To go back, to resurrect those characters, and to make a real effort to get into that story armed with vinegar and water, crumpled newspapers, and a stout broom and see what I have left at the end.  It COULD be that I'll tidy here, polish there, rearrange something -- and wind up with "The End".  But if the experience of editing it is even HALF the learning that the writing was, I'll still be ahead of the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really do like the feeling of a new year beginning and all the effluvia of the last year gone and blown away.  This year, of course, there's much to be optimistic about, not the least of which is the change to a cognizant, intelligent, clear-thinking young man in the White House, which fills me with a confidance I'd all but forgotten. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The economy is in the toilet (and guess what, it's been flushed) but MAYBE, just MAYBE, folks will look around and recognize their WEALTH, which has been hidden under all the STUFF.  Instead of going out to a restaurant maybe some families will gather around their supper tables again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps instead of agonizing over a ton of new clothes because the season has turned, girls will get creative and realize that they have an infinite number of new outfits already - all they have to do is pair things up differently or add one of the many scarves........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what I'm thinking is this:  Husband and I have always said "We're absolutely as rich as Croesius - we just don't have much money" and I think that would be true of everyone if they only paused a moment and thought about it.  Two quotations come to me, both popularized during the Depression (and as a writer, and one not very sharp about maths, I'm not sure what the difference is between then and now in the scheme of things):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wear it out, use it up, make it do or do without".  Just take recycling a little further than we have been and it's a win-win-win-win-win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do and say the kindest thing, always in the kindest way".  That was on classroom walls for many, many years.  It's the Golden Rule, it's the Wiccan Rede, it's just simply the way it should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now then - my Writers' Group meets on Monday, and I have some work to do.  I don't know if I'll begin taking "the novel" to that or not, but I may;  otherwise, it's going to be a very writerly weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - and to anyone who may be reading this:  I do hope that this new year brings you contentment, delight, curiosity, opportunity, optimism, enthusiasm and laughter.  And prosperity, of whichever sort brings you the most of the aforementioned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-1916593693860895227?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/1916593693860895227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=1916593693860895227' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/1916593693860895227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/1916593693860895227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2009/01/thats-not-windstorm.html' title='That&apos;s not a windstorm.....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-6336038660232119435</id><published>2008-12-14T07:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T09:38:07.821-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Marches On....</title><content type='html'>.......and I'm finally pretty much back to normal (or what passes for it around here). I discover that I experienced the same kind of thing I go through if I'm away from home for a long time (which, for me, is three weeks MAX): to wit, it takes me a few days to reorient myself to routine (or what passes for it around here). I'm making a note to myself in my NaNoWriMo book so that I'm prepared for that next year. Did you catch that? &lt;em&gt;"NEXT YEAR" &lt;/em&gt;! The first time is sort of a dress-rehearsal as I see it. Next year I think even the rough draft might be a little more polished. So what's happened since my last post?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SURGsABzw0I/AAAAAAAABpU/qUr7Crxs6tM/s1600-h/I+Love+Nov+%2708.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279422384920838978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SURGsABzw0I/AAAAAAAABpU/qUr7Crxs6tM/s200/I+Love+Nov+%2708.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; First - it snew. The first Proper Snow of the season, I'd have to say, as it resulted in a Snow Day - well, two for us because we weren't scheduled the second day anyhow. Oh, I'm sympathetic to folks who have to drive in bad conditions, &amp;amp;c. My son is a semi driver; my daughter has to get to work. There were many years when I worked at University Hospitals, and I don't have to mention that hospitals don't close, for weather or anything else. I also worked at the University, and even when every elementary, middle and high school in town are closed, the University does not. I think it's closed maybe twice on twenty years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the Museum did close (our school groups from out of town cancelled in any event - and I'm just as glad. I wouldn't want to see a school bus coming from out of town in bad weather). So all the kiddies in town were out sledding and playing, and I? Curled up on the couch with a cuppa in one hand, book in the other, knitting and cat in my lap - and probably a shit-eatin'grin. Part-way through the afternoon - a nap. I always was pretty good at the Power Nap (I could doze through a 15-minute break, did me a world o' good at work) but now that I am of Advancing Age I do a masterful, luxurious, elegant nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTE: that's how they &lt;em&gt;feel &lt;/em&gt;... I'm probably splayed out in a most unattrative manner snoring and drooling. If so - and you know of it - spare me, I don't want to hear about it. Nevermind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week a few of us NaNoWriMo Winners had a celebratory and festive wrap-up party! It was also modest, but then - we are novelists, and at this point none of us have Newbury awards, Nobel prizes or movie deals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd reserved a room in the Memorial Union (I can do that, for free, on account of I am a Lifetime Member) and we arranged to meet midafternoon on Saturday. The room I booked is called "The Board Room", and it's on the 3rd floor. It's a smallish room, has a conference table and chairs in it, and a water cooler; there's a chalkboard on one wall. HOWEVER!! It also had two (count 'em, 2) pianos, not that there was room for dancing; there were three trashcans, two full of empty chili bowls and the effluvia of an earlier meal, and the water cooler bottle was nearly empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FURTHERMORE (and I'll issue a warning here - Wrathful Feisty Old Broad Ahead!!) they were holding the Hoofers' Ski Sale. No worries, it's an annual and very popular event, they sell off their used equipment for cheap. But this had a negative impact on the NaNo Celebration: when Becky and I took the elevator up to third floor (remember me? "advancing age"?) there was a &lt;em&gt;table pushed across the elevator opening &lt;/em&gt;! Can you say "Call the ADA"? We just moved it, and went around to our room. There were also three people sitting on chairs at the stairwell, to keep folks from coming up or going down - you see, there was a big huge fear that thousands of people would storm the place and run off with stolen merchandise. Folks - we're talking SKIS here. SNOWBOARDS. Frankly, if a kid can conceal a pair of skis and poles (and probably boots)....even under a thick North Face down vest - heck, I say let 'em have them, and I want to watch. Talk about material for a novel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to find the Floor Supervisor and apprised her of the problem. The result? We had a fresh bottle of water almost instantly. The Troll on the Table, however, still refused to let us use the elevator to go &lt;em&gt;down &lt;/em&gt;- he told us(grudgingly) that he'd let us out of the elevator coming up, but (and this is a direct quote, with Becky and the gods as my witnesses): "You're both able-bodied, you can walk down."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father was famous for his brilliantly-written Letters of Dissatisfaction; we called them the "Sidney S. Goldish Three-Page Letters", and you didn't want one. A nasty Speech teacher of mine in high school got one - and he apologized to me, at some length, in front of the whole class for his ill-chosen words earlier the week. Now, I consider myself a Writer, and I'm told now and then that I'm pretty fair at it. I do pride myself on having inherited the SSGTPL gene, and I am SO writing one to the Union Directorate. Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there were just five us of (I can only assume that the other local winners were still lying comatose in front of their laptops or desktops), and *I*, at least, had a very nice time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SURPbnwlYQI/AAAAAAAABpc/V7TlSYuW4yU/s1600-h/NaNoWriMo+cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279431999132885250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SURPbnwlYQI/AAAAAAAABpc/V7TlSYuW4yU/s320/NaNoWriMo+cake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Personalized NaNo Winners' Cake!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Now, there's nothing like comestibles to add some Happy to a gathering anyway. I went down (in search of pizza, but there warn't none) and brought up some nachos for the masses (OK, I admit it, I was looking for another excuse to use the elevator) -- but then Becky went and got HER offering. Have you EVER??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SUU9dY89M0I/AAAAAAAABpk/47IYDwGwPGk/s1600-h/Book+on+Cake!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279693713285395266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SUU9dY89M0I/AAAAAAAABpk/47IYDwGwPGk/s200/Book+on+Cake!.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;DETAIL:  there is a NOVEL on the cake!!  How cool is that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Notice the detail - it's a tiny BOOK! Furthermore, this cake not only had all the requirements for a Perfect Treat Celebrating a Major Event - it was so far beyond "delicious" as to defy description. It had light, buttery cake, and between the layers a thick, rich strawberry layer. Sometimes when cakes are this beautiful, and even when they have fillings like that, sometimes the frosting isn't so great. They go for texture so they can make nice flowers and stuff. But HOLD THE PHONE! This was actually really-truly &lt;em&gt;buttercream &lt;/em&gt;frosting. So along with the appearance, which you can see for yourself, the flavor was incomparable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I eat cake, I like to take a bit and then breathe a little bit, you know? So you get the fragrance of it as well as the taste. And I'm here to tell you - that was just awfully wonderful. Becky - THANK YOU, in ten languages! The room was a little dismal, the trolls outside a disappointment - but the cake made up for everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what? That wasn't even the best part! (Embarrassing Admission: I'm terrible with names. Terrible. So - when I say "Linda" - I hope that was her name. I remember James, and Becky, and Mary {Marie?} -- and I *think* "Linda". Forgive me, I'll improve but for now, I'll call her "Linda") Oh - and if any of the others know, and see this - could you let me know? There ARE drawbacks to Advancing Age........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Linda had a good idea: we'd each read a bit from our novels, just three minutes' worth or so, and talk about them. So we did, and I was struck by similarities in our very diverse stories - a few of us had moonlight, and there was an uncommon richness of imagination and language. FURTHERMORE - hey, three minutes is not enough. I want to hear MORE of all of 'em! (Also, I hadn't anticipated that, or I'd have dug out some bits that I thought were a little better than what I had at hand.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway - the upshot is that we're hoping to begin to meet regularly, more like a regular critique group - like read more like 10 pages each time to comment on. Can't get but a little taste in three minutes. That's like dipping a pinky in the gravy for a taste when there's a whole huge fragrant roast joint on the table. I don't know about y'all, but I want a SLICE! So that's the plan, and I'm excited. It's going to have to wait until "after the holidays"......but it sure is something to look forward to in the new year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise: my Writers' Group really liked my little story about the ill little girl and the teddy bear - and I've decided that I AM going to go back over my novel to see if anything is salvageable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normal Life (or what passes for it around here) resumes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-6336038660232119435?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/6336038660232119435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=6336038660232119435' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6336038660232119435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6336038660232119435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/12/time-marches-on.html' title='Time Marches On....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SURGsABzw0I/AAAAAAAABpU/qUr7Crxs6tM/s72-c/I+Love+Nov+%2708.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-3754751632988506673</id><published>2008-12-02T08:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T08:55:05.597-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School's Out!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/STVn9PQFDPI/AAAAAAAABNw/5Y3c31y08Z0/s1600-h/...and+she+WINS!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275236840298056946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/STVn9PQFDPI/AAAAAAAABNw/5Y3c31y08Z0/s320/...and+she+WINS!.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't this just say it all??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now what? I really do feel like school's out! I find myself thinking "OK, the dishes are done, now I can get in a little more writing.......oh, wait! It's DONE!" and dare I say it? I miss it! What I need to do establish the routine of writing regularly for my regular writing now. And I think I'll be able to do that, because it really is just about habit to go into the writing room at 10:30 pm and get to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO what did I win? See above! And the feeling of just letting it all spew out, and then, like an archaelogist, attacking it with a little brush and getting rid of the crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I *still* haven't started at the beginning and read it straight through, but I'm about it, and then print it out so I can more easily circle the good bits and cross out the roughage. I'm hoping that, after I do that, there'll be enough shards left to put into a good story. (I still like the bit where she nurses the baby, which was cool because she never gave birth. Pretty clever.) Hopefully there'll be more bits like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and to all my fellow NaNoWriMos who crossed the finish line: MAZEL TOV!! We are now all genuine novelists! Next step: submission, publication - and negotiating for film rights!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/STVlqoIKxNI/AAAAAAAABNo/lkgSYHUsjEg/s1600-h/nano_08_winner_100x100.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275234321534993618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/STVlqoIKxNI/AAAAAAAABNo/lkgSYHUsjEg/s320/nano_08_winner_100x100.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;WOOT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-3754751632988506673?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/3754751632988506673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=3754751632988506673' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3754751632988506673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3754751632988506673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/12/schools-out.html' title='School&apos;s Out!'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/STVn9PQFDPI/AAAAAAAABNw/5Y3c31y08Z0/s72-c/...and+she+WINS!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-6089659113890447666</id><published>2008-11-30T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T09:35:12.881-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WEINER! WEINER!</title><content type='html'>{ahem}  OK, sorry 'bout that.  Short post today;  I have a story to &lt;em&gt;finish&lt;/em&gt;;   however, as I sit before you (and before the lovely fire at Starbucks), I am happy to report that I have sailed, soared, trotted, galloped, stomped....across the virtual Finish Line, and I have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ACCOMPLISHED NANOWRIMO!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I have over 50,000 words.  No, I haven't uploaded it for verification yet;  I won't feel like I've *really* finished until I've gotten to the end of the story.  I actually have over 52,000 words at this writing, and there'll be more.  But I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; winding down.  My goal is to finish the story, no matter how sloppily (I'm blushing, I should be ashamed of myself) and THEN post it for my official win, for my Purple Band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I'm Ensconced, and will come back with a proper post when I have Become Official.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-6089659113890447666?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/6089659113890447666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=6089659113890447666' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6089659113890447666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6089659113890447666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/11/weiner-weiner.html' title='WEINER! WEINER!'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-2682702892397789915</id><published>2008-11-22T22:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T22:43:42.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And There They Sat.....</title><content type='html'>41,670 words later, smiling and nodding to each other.  Huhn? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, 'scuse me.  I'm just back from a five-and-a-half-hour stint of "NaNo-ing" at Starbucks, and that's my word count.  That means I'm 8,330 words from The End.  Yes indeedy, ladies and gennulmens, I do believe that I am going to WIN the 2008 NaNoWriMo.  I think that I AM going to have written a 50,000 word novel in thirty days.  And I have to say, "novel" is going to be the word for it, as in "odd", "unique", "unusual"....crappy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story line (oh, is there a story line?) is thin.  It if stood sideways in a strong wind, it would be invisible.  Point of view?  Oh, yeah, there should be one.  The action should be seen through the eyes of somebody, preferably a character in the story.  Or the "omniscient narrator".  Can't say as there's any such thing here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuity? Hmmm....credibility?  Uhnnn...naw.  But I think that somewhere, amidst the blathering of the various characters and general "descriptizing", there may be a beginning, a middle, and....hopefully...an  end.  I think there are occasional moments, periodic phrases, which might be worth salvaging with an eye to putting them in somewhere to good effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the scene where the girl (who has never had a baby) breastfeeds the infant, and the milk is so copious as to run from the corners of the wee lips.  Sounds like the King had a nice wedding.  Some of the scenery isn't bad.   The image of the fat kitty, tucked up in meatloaf mode on the back of the sweet little ewe is endearing (at least in my mind).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where am I right now?  Well, let's see....everyone is just leaving church, having all sworn to protect and defend, not only the foundling princess but all of the children, every woman, and themselves.  Interesting:  when the Da and the priest laid it on them that the child they'd seen these ten years, friend of their own children, comforter of the sick, &amp;amp;c  --&lt;em&gt;was in fact a foundling  &lt;/em&gt;who might, in fact, be the very princess they've been ordered to return to the King or folks would die.......didn't seem to phase anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have 8,000 words in which to get her to the castle (with the priest, he has to go with her);  she'll then have to find out what's wrong with each of the ladies-in-waiting, shear her instant-grow-back sheep's fleece, wash, card and spin it into mighty fine yarn........and knit it into magical garments which will heal each of the ladies.  How will she diagnose them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, conveniently, her cat can eavesdrop on them, and find out.  Of course, he hasn't said a word up to this point;  he's been a lovely animal but manifested no hint of Disneyism, by way of chatting her up.  How's he going to do that, then?  Good question.  So glad you asked.  I'll just be getting back to you on that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's then going to have to knit up the precise little magical piece to cure, heal, and fix each one (I can only assume that she's making small things - quick knits). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so then they're all fixed.   Aaaaannnnddd???  Well, somewhere along the line, the Spell Will Be Broken.  Everyone enchanted will resume his or her normal shape, all will be revealed, and everyone will Live Happily Ever After.   That's what I &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; is going to happen.  On the other hand, just read it along with me, we might both be surprised.  {G}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what?  I WON!  Already!!  Because I HAVE written, if not every single day then enough on the other days to make up for it.  And it's fun just spewing, and I'm going to relish checking it out afterward;  I'll print it up (on scratch paper) just to see the whole thing.  And when all is said and done, and NaNoWriMo 2008 is over, I will still have the experience of spending real time at the keyboard.  I'll be able to tape something on the teevee instead of watching.......or forego it altogether.  And this is a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who'd a thunk it?  (I wonder, does this give me the right to call myself a Novelist?  Even though it's a quantity-only effort?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-2682702892397789915?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/2682702892397789915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=2682702892397789915' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2682702892397789915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2682702892397789915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-there-they-sat.html' title='And There They Sat.....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4951511590543235681</id><published>2008-11-19T08:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T08:41:01.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Did I Know....</title><content type='html'>...what's involved in NaNoWriMo! I have to say, it's exhilarating, fascinating, curious - and tiring! Of course, I have considerable assistance, I must admit it. I have a Writing Coach-Nagger-Cheerleader-Critic. She yells, she nags, -- but most of all, she has a Baleful Gaze which is so laden with guilt as to be crippling.   (I wonder again:  how does anyone &lt;em&gt;manage&lt;/em&gt; without a cat to help out?)&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SSQmRDZ3xtI/AAAAAAAABNg/AE5lZzg5njM/s1600-h/This+is+a+criticism.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SSQmRDZ3xtI/AAAAAAAABNg/AE5lZzg5njM/s200/This+is+a+criticism.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270379538343773906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Here's an example:  I like my cup of tea while writing, and as you no doubt know, tea is "rented"......doesn't stay with you for long.  So I had gone to visit the Necessary briefly.  When I came back, Evangeline had changed her position from "meatloaf" with head facing me to THIS.  I can only surmise that she read what I'd written in my absence - and thought this the best way to express her feelings about the whole thing.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gently reminded her, "No editing.  Quantity, not quality.  And besides, you can't even type because you have no thumbs."&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone's a critic.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However - today I'm "off" -- no outside obligations, and because I &lt;s&gt; stupidly &lt;/s&gt; ---  &lt;s&gt; carelessly &lt;/s&gt; --- &lt;em&gt; unavoidably &lt;/em&gt; took a day off from writing yesterday (she let me get away with it simply because I wasn't home, I was out...you know, making a little money so I could afford her bags and bags of treats) I mean to spend the most of today writing.  I'm starting at home, but may check to see where my fellow NaNos are writing, if they're out and about, and join them.  Misery loves company.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems like a lot of them like Starbucks on campus.......I don't drink coffee, wonder if they have anything good to eat?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, back to work.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH!   PS:  my cute little mouse, which I always use because I like it better than the touchpad system on the laptop, died yesterday (a moment of silence for the technological helper it was).  But Mr Tremblingquill (have I mentioned that he's My Hero, in more ways than I could mention?) went out and found me a NEW mousie, with NO CORD to wear out (that's what happened to t'other one)!  The new one is super-DUPER cool, and...get this:  I got a choice of COLORS!  So I know have a fantabulous NEW deep metallic blue &lt;em&gt; CORDLESS MOUSE &lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can have so much fun it you're Advancing in Age and Easily Entertained!!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, NOW back to work.  For real.  Right now.  Here I go.  Watch me.  Here I go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4951511590543235681?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4951511590543235681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4951511590543235681' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4951511590543235681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4951511590543235681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/11/little-did-i-know.html' title='Little Did I Know....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SSQmRDZ3xtI/AAAAAAAABNg/AE5lZzg5njM/s72-c/This+is+a+criticism.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-3500367295181669206</id><published>2008-11-08T12:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T12:55:21.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching up.......</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SRXx18Q_4HI/AAAAAAAABMY/C0dYCmhSFpA/s1600-h/Blogging+with+proofreader.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266381248292446322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SRXx18Q_4HI/AAAAAAAABMY/C0dYCmhSFpA/s200/Blogging+with+proofreader.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; DISCLAIMER: this photograph is NOT an actual depiction of me being a NaNoWriMo. However, because this exact situation has been repeated during the writing of the Novel, I felt it legitimate. For one thing, it shows one of the pitfalls of trying to write while seated on the couch -- so I don't do it anymore. I have moved my novelling to either the den (known familiarly as "my writing room") or the kitchen, which allows more space to spread out my pieces of paper, teacup, snacks, &amp;amp;c &amp;amp;c.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evangeline, I have discovered, is a furry little Conscience. These last couple of days, Mr Tremblingquill has been away (to return Monday next). So I have been taking up the whole of the kitchen table. (&lt;em&gt; In case you're reading this, my dear, it'll be tidied up with no evidence left behind before your return! &lt;/em&gt;) I've been putting in some decent hours of writing, too - and I've discovered that, if I get up  to....you know, use the bif, for example...she follows me, mewing. If I happen to (horrors!) sit down on the couch and turn on the teevee, she stands at my feet, mewing. Now, this behavior has been illustrated in the past, when she feels that 3:00 AM is as late as I should be up, and she mews until I go get into bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because &lt;s&gt;she loves to be near me at all times &lt;/s&gt;I love to have her near me at all times, I've put her knitted kitty-pi bed (now, admittedly, just a round flat disk, but knitted just the same) on the kitchen table where she can curl up and either watch the birdies at the feeders right outside the window.....or cast the Baleful Glances perfected by her kind over the centuries at me.  Believe me, Jewish Mothers have nothing on cats when it comes to guilt trips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now -- you've caught me out. I'm writing in my blog and NOT on my novel. Did I mention that I excel at Procrastinating? Well, you'd have to travel far and wide to find my equal when it comes to putting-stuff-off. But I AM almost caught up to the daily word count, and that IS impressive, when you consider that I did not write one single word on November 4th (watching the teevee) or November 5th (watching the teevee and behaving in a generally celebratory manner).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, being as I'm here, now, I feel moved to set forth some of my thoughts, and then - I PROMISE - it's back to the novel. (After I make some tea and find a little nosh. Nevermind.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barak Obama is the President-Elect of the United States of America. Lots of folks are happy about that - but, I dare say, none more than I. As a Hippie-Civil-Rights-Worker-Anti-War-Protestor of Slightly Unusual Spiritual Beliefs, I feel as though I've been working toward Mr Obama's campaign for years. I remember conversations with fellow college classmates and Civil Rights workers about whether or not we would see a black President in our lifetimes. I remember conversations at night with my first husband, a black man who came to St Paul from Selma, Alabama with some of my friends who had gone to a rally there....we theorized that, while our son &lt;em&gt;technically &lt;/em&gt;could be whatever he wanted to, including President, we weren't sure he REALLY could. Or, again, that any black man would -- in our lifetimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it didn't happen in his lifetime. But he died really young. (After-effects from his Viet Nam experience -- see reference above.) But by gum, it COULD happen in my lifetime after all, and what's more, it HAS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal feeling is that Barak Obama is What I Want in a President. He's highly-educated, and besides, he's intelligent (the two are not necessarily the same thing). His ideas sounded good to me, even through the filter that I know is "campaigning"; he has served in the Senate, which experience can only be to the good; he's not afraid to talk to ordinary people and seems to HEAR them; furthermore, he's a nice man and looks to be a nice daddy and a nice husband, and he likes ice cream. (Dare I say it? I saw some film of him dancing somewhere, and 1) not all black people can dance, and 2) fortunately being a good dancer is absolutely not relevant to being a good President.) In fact, as my mother used to say (paraphrased) "If his not being able to dance is the WORST fault he has, we are very lucky indeed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's not to say I think he has NO faults (though in the scheme of things, he seems refreshingly free of any that've been identified in other heads of state through history), but it seems to me that this was an Election, where people voted and the numbers added up and more people wanted him to be President than McCain and so he won. I feel optimistic about the direction we'll be going under his leadership -- and I haven't felt optimistic after a Presidential Election for Quite. Some. Time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I've heard that, whichever kind of dog he gets for his daughters, they're getting it from a Shelter. My kind o' guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because this is my blog and I can kind of say whatever I want, and also because I am Advanced in Age and therefore can kind of say whatever I want, I thought that Sarah Palin was quite possibly the most frightening person I have witnessed in recent memory. I find her attractive, pretty...and downright, clear-cut, absolutely DANGEROUS in many ways. There are jokes about "moving to Canada" (easy for those of us in Wisconsin, it's just "up there") but, while I think McCain would have not been the kind of President *I* wanted. the potential, no matter how slim, that he could die in office leaving Sarah Palin as our President, Commander-in-Chief, &amp;amp;c &amp;amp;c - well, like I said, the single most terrifying thing I could imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like what she stands for, I don't like her attitude towards women's rights, I don't like the whole wardrobe thing (although that's not relevant, she didn't spend any of my Democratic dollars) and...most of all...I thought her interviews with Katie Couric were scandalous. SCANDALOUS! I can't believe she's a truly stupid woman, and I couldn't have answered some of those questions either - but then, I was not now and never will be running for office of any kind.  I can't believe she reads every single magazine and periodical there are.  I just can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, feeling good and hopeful and optimistic and confident........I'm going back to writing my 50,000 word novel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I get a little snack.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-3500367295181669206?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/3500367295181669206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=3500367295181669206' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3500367295181669206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3500367295181669206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/11/catching-up.html' title='Catching up.......'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/SRXx18Q_4HI/AAAAAAAABMY/C0dYCmhSFpA/s72-c/Blogging+with+proofreader.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-2831176664717204151</id><published>2008-11-03T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T19:44:53.026-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She fumbles...no...no...</title><content type='html'>...she RECOVERS! Well - time will tell. However, I am here to report that, after achieving the noble word count of 4,488 on Day Two, I scrapped it! Bagged it, tossed it, heaved it, pitched it. In a word --&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I started over!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't actually &lt;em&gt;kill&lt;/em&gt; the first version; I just couldn't actually delete all 4,488 words. But here's what happened: after a fun day driving to Viroqua to pick up Mr Trembequill's 19th century suit (very handsome) we took advantage of his seamstress' offer of two tickets to hear the Kingston Trio. It was surreal. Good...but surreal. (None of the original musicians, but yeah, very good nonetheless.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was followed by a rather white-knuckle drive home, because Mr Tremblequill had forgot his clear glasses and had only shades, which in *my* book render night-driving Highly Unwise. But I don't love driving at night, glasses or no. I managed - but was pretty played out when we got home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I set my little timer for an hour and stretched out to nap on the couch. When I got up, some four hours later or so......I had had a Thought. And the thought involved taking the same characters but moving the lot out of the castle (just could NOT work out a way that the sheep had any dealings with anyone actually living in a castle) and into a cottage. It all suddenly made sense to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I came in and started back at the Starting Line. Oh, I kept Version 1, on my hard drive. But I renamed the new one more or less, and got into gear. It is evening of Day Three now, and I am about to resume writing. At the rate of 1,667 words a day, I should have a total count of 5,001 words by the end of today.........and guess what? I have 4,417 written, after a good session at the Ashman Library. Less than 600 words to achieve the daily goal, and I have a feeling my little Peigeen is going to have more than 600 words' worth of adventure before I turn in tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is the new version the Great American Novel? Well...errhh...uhhhnn....probably not. But it IS a damned sight better than "It was a dark and stormy night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-2831176664717204151?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/2831176664717204151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=2831176664717204151' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2831176664717204151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2831176664717204151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/11/she-fumblesnono.html' title='She fumbles...no...no...'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4466120311849869099</id><published>2008-11-02T07:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T08:08:03.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the Gate!</title><content type='html'>So I guess this means &lt;em&gt; I am a NOVELIST &lt;/em&gt;!  (Note the absence of the word "published", which isn't like to happen any time very soon - that's an obsesrvation, not a complaint.)  I am glad to say that I DID start writing at 12:01 AM on November 1st.  I wrote exactly one line - then had to peel the cat off my lap and move the laptop back to the den/writing room because she was insistent about being on me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there was a gap between the first line and the next, but I DID actually manage to crank out over the required 1667 words which comprise the daily minimum to reach the goal.  I can see an advantage to this whole NaNoWriMo deal already, at least for me:  it's going to necessitate setting aside a period of time, DAILY, to write.  If I can form that into a habit, it'll be that much to the good when I return to writing in the regular slow, thoughtful and editing-along-the-way way.  So far (remember, yesterday was just Day Two) I have found that very late at night serves me best.  I haven't tried writing a few shorter periods during a day, but I think I will, just to see if there's any advantage to the chained-to-the-desk approach.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'll go on record here (where it's pretty safe, as I have no readers) that my novel, as it has come out of the chute, is -- well, I feel very confident in saying that it may well be the worst conglomeration of words ever strung together under the guise of "story".  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm surprised to find that I am almost overcome with the temptation/desire/yearning to just go back "a little way", to just fix up "one or two sentences" -- after all, maybe I can add a few words.  As it stands right now, unless there are some improvements, this will NOT be anything worth saving to go back and polish with the possibility of it actually being something readable.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But - it's an experiement, an exercise, a challenge, and I'm going to stick to the rules and get from it what I may.  And I suspect I'll be glad to look back HERE for my feelings as I slog through this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4466120311849869099?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4466120311849869099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4466120311849869099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4466120311849869099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4466120311849869099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/11/out-of-gate.html' title='Out of the Gate!'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-3164203935026116699</id><published>2008-10-30T02:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T02:40:12.611-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anticipation'/><title type='text'>It Has Begun..........</title><content type='html'>The count-down, that is.  OK - I've only done ONE of  the warm-up exercises.  I think what I'm going to do is try a couple of warm-ups on my own;  with thanks to Jen, who had her excellent idea of even DOING a warm-up, might I add.  I'm glad to have the book (the aforementioned "The 3 AM Epiphany") and will be referring to it.....one can't have too many writing books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait - that sounds like "an addict can't have too many empty pill bottles".  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the next 48 hours (give or take) which precede the beginning of NaNoWriMo are going to be busy.  I think that's good.......the bloke who Started It All says that being busy engenders more writing, and I can see that.  I think sitting down and clearing the decks to write without distraction - in this case - might not be the plus one might think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today -- and please note, I'm writing at 4:30 AM (what are you, CRAZY?  I take the 5th).  The alarm is set for 5:00 AM, because we have to put on funny clothes and report to the teevee station at 6:15.  After our Stint (ending before 7:00 AM) we get to come home and nap, and I think I probably will.  Then we report to the Museum, again in funny clothes, for tours and Halloween hijinks.  That concludes in participation in a reception for teachers -- we'll wander around being part of the "Odd Wisconsin" exhibit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After THAT I have my class on Childhood in the Middle Ages, which is pretty much fascinating and after only one class is proving, I think, to be the source of details and information which might be useful for future writing projects.  After THAT (!) I'm going to stop for a few minutes at Barriques, a coffee house on Monroe Street, at which some of the local fellow NaNos are getting together for a Yay! Rah! in anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday has more stuff, although I'm too lazy to go get my daybook to see what at this point.  And of course, I have to finish decorating for Halloween and prepare for the expected mobs of little Sarah Palins I imagine appearing at our door for their yummies.  (Mr Dearling laid in a good supply of yummies which we particularly like, in the event that we have left-overs.  LOVE it!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact......I'm tempted to go in there and nibble me a sample.  But if I go into the kitchen, reGARDless of the time, I'll get caught up in the Feline Feeding Frenzy and it's just too early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So - all for now, but I'm going to try to keep notes here throughout the month.  Lawsy knows, I've been falling down something grim on the knitblog, although I am semi-steadily moving toward completion of the Dr Who scarf, and I'll report the completion of it on both blogs.  On account of, 'cause it's a genuine, real, authorized and documentable Big Deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see...should I nap for 20 minutes?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-3164203935026116699?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/3164203935026116699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=3164203935026116699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3164203935026116699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3164203935026116699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/10/it-has-begun.html' title='It Has Begun..........'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-2511527574794196831</id><published>2008-10-28T07:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T07:47:14.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Whole 'nother Level!</title><content type='html'>Yep, I've won it - the Olympic Gold for Procrastination.  Having said that, I present here my FIRST warm-up exercise as assigned by Jen.  The hard part was keeping it to 600 words;  it's the #29 exercise from "The 3 AM Epiphany".  For your pleasure I present:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Whittier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Whittier seated herself at the table, placed her napkin in her lap and watched as Eleanor poured her tea.   Setting the teapot back, she lifted the covered Haviland dish and asked “Sausages, Ma’am?”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No…no, Eleanor, this will do.”  Eleanor studied her mistress for a moment, then turned and went back to the kitchen.  Almost instantly, she heard the chiming of the little bell, and hurried back to the table.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eleanor, my daughter is dead.  We must make arrangements.  The wake will, of course, be held here.  I’d like you to arrange for the undertaker to bring her body, and see that the parlor is prepared;  he will tell you what he needs for the laying-out.   And Eleanor – spare no expense.  I must have a large  black wreath for the door.”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eleanor stood, uncertainly,  then quietly retired to begin the preparations.  She heard Mrs. Whittier whisper something, but decided it was not for her ears.&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Whittier had said “Draped in sable….like her hard, wretched heart.”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night before, her daughter had come to supper, stalking in ahead of her family, and announcing “We cannot stay long, Mother.”  Her husband Edgar had whispered “Sorry” as he kissed his mother-in-law’s cheek, and the little boy and smaller girl had eagerly embraced her, one on each side, as she bent to kiss their heads. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Margot led the way to the dining room, and arranged her skirts around her as she seated herself at the end of the table;  her husband helped the little ones to their chairs and held Mrs. Whittier’s chair before taking his own seat across from the children, at her right.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I trust you’ve spared no expense for the menu?  You must know, my only pleasure these days is your occasional invitation for a decent meal.   Lord knows I can’t return your hospitality unless you favor cold ham and biscuits.  A clerk’s salary doesn’t stretch very far,” she said, smoothing her napkin over her lap.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edgar said quietly, “I’m doing well enough, my dear, and I’m not a clerk.  Mr. Lawson says I’ll be a partner in the firm one day.”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, well, I can only hope it’s before all of my gowns have worn completely to shreds.”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Whittier had rung her bell, and Eleanor had set before them a very satisfying meal indeed.  As instructed, she placed the small crystal bowl of herring at Margot’s place, and Mrs. Whittier said, “I know how much you like herring, Daughter, your shared your affection for it with your dear father, of blessed memory.   Eleanor found it at the market – although it was quite dear.”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Margot had emptied the bowl onto her plate with no thought of offering any to others, and devoured the herring greedily. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The conversation during the meal was terse, and in short order, Mrs. Whittier was standing at the door, watching her daughter hasten down the steps and into the hansom cab without a backward glance.  Her husband dressed the children against the cold and again embraced Mrs. Whittier.  She again kissed the darling children’s little faces, then paused and took Edgar’s shoulders firmly, looking him straight in the eye.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have confidence in you, Edgar.  You provide very well for you family, their future is secure.  I foresee greatness for you, and in time, for the children as well.  Brighter days surely are just around the corner.”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Whittier remembered the scene as she sat at her tea.  Nodding to herself, she lifted the cat to her lap, and, stroking its back, said to it, “Do you suppose that herring really had turned?”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(598 words!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-2511527574794196831?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/2511527574794196831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=2511527574794196831' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2511527574794196831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/2511527574794196831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/10/whole-nother-level.html' title='A Whole &apos;nother Level!'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-9035552188900668541</id><published>2008-10-20T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T23:30:37.748-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Procrastination....</title><content type='html'>I've heard that authors....in fact, I've heard that really the very BEST authors....procrastinate. Now, don't get me wrong, I am NOT putting myself in that category. I gave my opinions on procrastinating as it applies to me last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So....here it is Monday again, and again I have an assignment as a warm-up for NaNo, and it is clearly obvious that I did NOT finish and post Warm-Up Exercises one OR two before going to the Conference. And guess what? The third one's not here either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All righty, then. The Very Next Post you see here will be the first assignment, followed in turn by numbers 2 and 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, it WILL be before the turn of the century.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS:  the Writers' Retreat was all I had hoped for -- and more.  So even though I haven't posted any writing *here* yet, I really did come home with inspiration, understanding of a great deal, and enthusiasm - not to mention having had the uncommon pleasure of hearing two of the best writers of children's stories... &lt;a href="http://www.blackholly.com/"&gt; Holly Black &lt;/a&gt; (Spiderwick Chronicles) and &lt;a href="http://www.lspark.com/index.html"&gt; Linda Sue Park &lt;/a&gt; (A Single Shard, which won the Newbery).  I didn't know to expect it, but being in the presence of highly successful authors like that was as inspiring as anything I could imagine.  I wondered if I might come away feeling really *down* and inept, but I did not.  The whole thing was most excellent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-9035552188900668541?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/9035552188900668541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=9035552188900668541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/9035552188900668541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/9035552188900668541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/10/procrastination.html' title='Procrastination....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-6032212935531540082</id><published>2008-10-15T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T06:08:23.913-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='procrastinating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='excuses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anticipation'/><title type='text'>Counting....counting....</title><content type='html'>OK - I now have TWO Monday assignments, and it's clear that there is &lt;em&gt; nothing here yet of a writerly nature &lt;/em&gt;!  Believe it or not, I'm NOT procrastinating (although believe me when I say, if it were an Olympic sport I could serve dinner for twelve on my gold medals....with soup);  no, it's just that after a false start (about seven pages' worth) I decided to rewrite the first one, and the second is "in the works".&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say, however, that I'm liking that book a great deal, and owe Jen for introducing it to me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WARNING: Gratuitous whining ahead:  I'm preparing to go to the SCBWI Fall Retreat day-after-tomorrow.  Now, I've never been before (Anxiety #1).  I have to decide what written pieces to take along (Anxiety #2).  I'm going to be surrounded by REAL writers, and what's worse, &lt;em&gt; professionals &lt;/em&gt; (Anxiety #3).&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I *expect* to come home energized, knowledgeable in new ways, inspired and having met all sorts of wonderful new people.  I ALSO *expect* that there's a reasonable chance I'll be found out as a Totally Phony POSER (or, as we say in French, "poseur").&lt;br /&gt;But it is my intention (isn't that what the Road to....oh nevermind) to finish both pieces and post them here before departing.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch this space!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-6032212935531540082?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/6032212935531540082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=6032212935531540082' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6032212935531540082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/6032212935531540082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/10/countingcounting.html' title='Counting....counting....'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-3134916388069014921</id><published>2008-10-11T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T14:59:33.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What was that exercise???</title><content type='html'>OK, so the challenge was, &lt;a href="http://knittinginterrupted.com/"&gt;Jen &lt;/a&gt;said, on Mondays she'd give us the number of an exercise from "The 3 A.M. Epiphany", and we'd have the week to write it. Excellent, says I to Me, warm-ups for the NaNoWriMo. I can for SURE use that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got the book, turned to #29 as instructed, and -- Wednesday morning -- began to write. And discovered a few things about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To wit: 1) Getting an idea wasn't TOO hard. Not a breeze, but I managed. 2) Once I actually &lt;em&gt;sat down &lt;/em&gt;and began writing, the story formed itself up quite nicely. 3) As I'd thought, my best writing time is going to be after 10:30 pm (and I'm determined to carve a hunk o' time during the day too, and stick to it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's what's happened so far: I didn't finish in time to post the story here Friday, and - more to the point - in finishing today....(I've only a little left to do)....I see that I'm a little over the required 600-word limit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I'm &lt;strong&gt;1,401&lt;/strong&gt; words over the limit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What is this, some kind of a joke?? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-3134916388069014921?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/3134916388069014921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=3134916388069014921' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3134916388069014921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/3134916388069014921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-was-that-exercise.html' title='What was that exercise???'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046261511474668895.post-4755453028861369945</id><published>2008-10-09T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T21:50:40.804-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the launch'/><title type='text'>And so it begins.......</title><content type='html'>Day One of Blog! It's Thursday night; tomorrow I will post here my first Writing Exercise, which I'm doing with a group of folks in preparation for NANOWRIMO. I am officially registered (I need to find out how you add little banners at the side of blogs). The first exercise (yeah, due tomorrow, I'm writing this at 11:45 pm - do ya s'pose I should &lt;em&gt;BEGIN &lt;/em&gt;??) {ahem} is # 29 from "3 AM Epiphany". I'm doing these warm-ups to establish for myself a dedicated writing time and to limber up, lubricate and activate the Imagination Cells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will here admit to considerable nervousness, coupled with a grim determination. The fact that I'm about to start two four-week classes, I'm preparing for the SCBWI Fall Retreat (another new experience), and I have to research a character I'm to portray at the Museum -- and I need to finish the Dr Who scarf I'm working on. Eight feet down, about four to go. Oy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow - Warm-Up Exercise Number One.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4046261511474668895-4755453028861369945?l=thetremblingquill.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/feeds/4755453028861369945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4046261511474668895&amp;postID=4755453028861369945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4755453028861369945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4046261511474668895/posts/default/4755453028861369945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thetremblingquill.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-so-it-begins.html' title='And so it begins.......'/><author><name>dale-harriet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03802162735113365804</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_WiVGG-K3bHA/R7Pn-anMtBI/AAAAAAAAAos/SfZm_zBLZC0/S220/Admiring!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
