What's for Dinner?

A few weeks ago I started posted what was for dinner on Thursday. Why Thursday? Mostly, it was because that night I had made ham pucks and Sam was really excited for them. Now, I figure, why not?

So, tonight is a night for leftovers. We've been eating some really great food all week, and now we need to re-eat some of it. It's hard to cook for two.

To quick-recap the meals we're noshing on: we've recently had a chili and corn bread, a cream of brocolli soup (broccoli +milk +seasoning +chicken stock +slow cooker = awesomeness), and chicken smothered in the last of the mole sauce I made a while ago.

Writing Prompt

I can't put this up on the BNO blog. But, what a fantastic writing prompt: be naked when I get home via 9kik. There's a story in that. At least one.

Also, I have another follower :). And, more importantly, I DON'T KNOW HER! Hi new follower. I hope you find something interesting here.

When it Flows

I've had an idea for a little while now for a story that needs to be written. It's a simple, funny, somewhat nostalgic story. It's strange for me though - I'm not starting with characters. I'm starting with a world and I'm starting with glue.

This is new territory for me. Usually I start with a character, and let the character decide what will happen next, until the character does something stupid or otherwise shows me where my sadistic side needs to come out. But not here. Here, there's a bus, and some people, and races. No specific people, just generic people who drive and ride in the bus.

And then Friday I saw the food necklaces. These are exactly as they sound: necklaces made of cord with food strung on them in place of beads. I've been telling just about everyone I see about these things. Sam's friend subsequently dubbed them "snacklaces."

The snacklaces needed to meet the bus derbies.

But how would the two meet up? How could the marry? Sure, the two concepts go together better than peanut butter and jam, but how exactly do they do it? I've been trying to force this to happen since Friday, and have had no success. I know that's not all that long, but, in Megan-time, three days trying to get this all to be happy together might as well be 30 years.

Tonight though, I did it! I went back to my character first way of writing. I made someone say something and react. And then the other person react. And now the bus derbies are coming to live. The derbies have rules and special people in them. And some of them wear snacklaces. And all because I forced some people to talk.

What gets you writing?

Dinner Tonight

Among the many things the husband and I do, we eat. We eat at home, and we eat out. And eating at home means cooking.

Somehow, I came out okay in that wifely-duty department. My parents graced me with good food (real food, not that stuff people call "food") as a child, made me eat things I didn't want to try (most of the time they were really good, though I'm sure my mother will tell you I thought otherwise (still an adverb there) at the time), and cooked. And they cooked from scratch. Some of it was basic, every day things. Spaghetti with shake cheese, meatloaf, corn salad. And sometimes meals would get more creative. Skinny noodle salad is a concoction of red cabbage and raw crunched up ramen noodles. It has got to be one of the cheapest, best salads on the planet that could quite literally feed an army.

Today though, the husband and I visited a different childhood classic, one my dad hated. My mom would make it when he was out of town. Its made of vile things, including mayonnaise, and I love it. A few years ago I decided I really wanted this for dinner. I came home from the grocery store with a handful of ingredients. The husband thought I was crazy. I made dinner, and he ate one of these oven-toasted open-faced sandwiches, and fell in love. Now he dances around and makes squealing noises when I suggest we should maybe have this for dinner.

What is this dish that not only includes but features mayonnaise that I'm willing to consume and enjoy doing so?

Ham pucks.

They're really quite simple. Make a ham salad, it on an English muffin, top it with some Swiss cheese, and throw it in the oven until the cheese is melted goodness.

I really can't comment more than that on the recipe. Ham salad means so many things. To me it means ham, mayonnaise, pickles, and onions all diced nice and fine. (Throw it all into a food processor for an easy, consistent almost pate-consistency). Want celery in yours? Add it? Feeding fifty people? Make more. Feeding only two? Make less. I find a half to three-fourths of a ham steak makes a reasonable amount for two. (Two normal people - I make more for the husband. He inhales these things).

I modify it a bit by using a home made mayonnaise. The stuff out of a jar really makes me want to hurl, so I make my own. Yes, this does involve using raw egg. But, I know where my eggs come from, and I know the birds are healthy. I wash the eggs myself. It's not for everyone, but, I prefer it.

This really is an easy dinner that can be thrown together in a half an hour or less, while half-dead. And at least in this household, it produces squeals of delight. Give it a try. Warm mayonnaise never tasted so good.

Trying Harder

Chad Smith, guest blogger for BNO this month, says we all should blog, writers especially. He suggests that blogging is more than just catharsisim (is that a word? the spell checker doesn't think so) in action; it is a way to practice craft, push yourself as a writer, and expand writing skills.

I happen to agree.

So, I'm trying harder. There's no reason to not. And, though I won't post any of my fiction work here (I'd rather see it in print than randomly up on my blog), I can still push myself to communicate more effectively. And maybe even try not to use adverbs on occasion. :)

And really, it is better than just 140 characters at a time.

Editing

I'm working with writing deadlines lately. I'm quite amazed at what a deadline will do. So far, here's what my upcoming deadline has done:

1. Ripped out any sort of inspiration, especially to come up with my own idea or "finish" one of several stories I have started.

2. Forced me to edit. More importantly, forced me to commit my edits.
a. Started the heinous "I hate my writing," cycle.
b. This then led to "Oh, that's not so bad after all" after making edits.
c. Committing the edits has led back to a. It's a vicious cycle. It won't ever end.

3. Forced me to figure out how to end. Ending is hard. Beginning is easy.

Will this all make sense? I certainly hope so. I'm definately working against the clock here. And I can find about a thousand more interesting things to do. Also, I really want to knit. Knitting is productive. And it doesn't involve the computer.

However, I'm going back to my edits now.

Slacking

I've been slacking for about a month now.

Okay, not slacking so much as not writing my 500. It's amazing how many distractions there are, and how often I give in to them. Discipline is hard to come by, and I won't be encountering any tonight. Sleep sounds much more exciting.

We started this 500 as a challenge. I knew it wouldn't be easy, though it sounds like it's not so hard at first. I must say though, I've really got to respect Phil over at Tin Can Goat. He's got a post every day with 500.

Tomorrow. Time to get back at it. 500 words before I go to bed. I can do this.

French Press in the Morning

Ugh. It's been a week since I posted? Apparently I disappeared from here for a while.

Really though, I just get sick of staring at a computer all the time, and need a break on occasion. So, here I am again.

I was reading Wally's blog over here a minute ago, and I thought "I should go write about that." You see, Monday she mentioned that she was going to go set up her coffee pot so she could just press on in the morning.

I miss the days of pressing "on."

Let me explain. My husband and I live in a small house, with a kitchen not much bigger than an apartment's kitchen. (In fact, I remember one apartment I lived in that had a bigger kitchen.) The husband does not like coffee. In fact, unless it is specifically Turkish coffee, he detests it. He'll drink a sip of it, and make a face that I thought only people who had eaten rotten sour grapes make.

Thus I decided early on in our tiny half-butt kitchen adventures I would keep my coffee habit out of the house. It's just easier that way, and frees up quite a lot of counter space. I settled for tea. (Don't get me wrong here, tea is great. But in the morning, I really would rather greet the day with a warm cup of creamy beany goodness.)

Keeping the coffee habit is expensive. And it doesn't allow for Saturday morning coffee that lasts all day. I decided to have coffee at home that was more than three sips of heavy sludge that leaves me with caffiene jitters that last all day long. But I wasn't willing to give up counter space.

You remember me mentioning tea, right? We have a tea kettle to boil water for making tea. This is one of the functions of a coffee pot - making water hot. I figured I could make do with a French Press, boil tea water for the husband, and coffee water for me at the same time. I could make him a pot of tea, and me a pot of coffee, and the world would be a happy place.

Here is where Wally's post comes in. See, she mentioned that she and coordination don't happen in the morning. And I thought, ugh, dealing with coffee filters? I remember doing it years ago, before I realized I really could do that in the evening before going to bed. And, like Wally, it wasn't pretty. The filter got folded, and I could never get decent access to it. There were always coffee grounds I felt compelled to wipe up before running out the door. And let's not mention my neighbor coming over in the morning "Can I have some coffee?" never really got out of her mouth before I was pouring her a mug.

Something happened between now and then though. There's something that I enjoy about the French Press, and the morning ritual using it forces on me. Even if I did put the grounds in the cylinder in the evening, I would still have to do more than press "on". I have to boil water, for one. I also have to get the lid back onto the cylinder after pouring water. I was dumb and bought a press with a lid that has to go on just "so." And the grounds have to sit and get happy in the water - just the right amount of time to finish getting myself ready. And then I have a lovely, creamy cup of coffee to take with me out the door, and spill half of it between the door and my car, and drink half of what's left on the way to where I'm going, and spilling the other half of in my car.

Ahh ritual. What was the point of all that again?

Good Night

Is The 500 killing anyone else? It really shouldn't be quite so hard to write five hundred words a day, every day. And, it's not, assuming that I don't want to do any editing, or cook, or eat, or, well, all those other things that need to happen when the work and socialization day is done.

I wrote mucho today. No fiction, but plenty of well-drafted emails, and a grant, and a Novel Orchard blog, and some other stuff I'm forgetting.

I'm going to assume it was more than five hundred words, and say good night.

Mud

Today I drug my feet through the mud. I kicked and screamed at the thought of writing. I felt like I had nothing left in me to put out there. I suppose I should start from the beginning.

I spent the weekend unable to turn my head, or otherwise move, without wincing in pain. Me, anti-medicine, I-hate-the-doctor, nearly went in to urgent care with the intention of coming home with muscle relaxants in the hope of being able to just sit without pain. It really was terrible.

I should mention, I still did my 500 this weekend. Sadly, I wrote almost all non-fiction. I had things I needed to write this weekend; so I wrote them. While I can't say what they are (yet), I will say that I'm very excited. This, however, brought me to writing no fiction.

Tonight, when I sat down to write, I wanted to work on one of several project that I have going, but I couldn't find anything to say about them.

No worries, I thought, I'll just do a writing exercise. I'll try to make it relevant to something I'm already doing, and it'll be a win-win.

I sat down on my computer, opened up a word-processing document, and held my fingers over the keyboard. "Type!" I demanded them. They didn't respond.

I spent the next ten minutes or so frantically searching my brain and the internet for some sort of inspiration. I found none. Somewhere in the throes of this frustration, a voice came peeping out, with words I often give other writers: you don't have to have anything to write about. Just a person. Or a place. Start there, describe it, and let the rest take care of yourself.

I did this, and it worked. I came out with two new characters, neither of whom I've ever met before. They have life, opinions, and a place to live. They interact in a very specific manner, and they have good reason to do so.

I need to add editing more frequently to my list of "I will do this to be a better writer." What better time to start than now?

Do you ever have a hard time writing - either with coming up with a new idea, or continuing to trudge through a work in progress? What do you do to keep yourself moving forward?

Lazy

I'm feeling lazy. This doesn't bode well, as we're not even through the first week of tax season, and I'm already beat. I have to ask myself, what was I thinking when I signed up to take a couple of classes this semester as well?

Bah, I'll get through it. The first week is always the hardest, right? It's only four months out of the year.

I'm worried though about my 500. I have to admit, I skipped Tuesday. I was tired. Tuesday was a long day at work, and then I had a bunch of stuff to to at home.

What sort of stuff you say? BNO stuff. Fun stuff. Stuff that we'll hopefully announce on Monday. Speaking of which, I need to go send off another email. And done.

Does that bring me to 500 for the day? I'm not entirely certain. Though, I think if not number, I've managed to at least keep with the spirit of the challenge - that is, I sat down, and I spent some time writing, with the objective of putting words on to paper.

Tomorrow I will come home, play chicken, and write. It will work better tomorrow.

Sleep

Word count for the day: 685. Pure fiction.

Consecutive hours spent awake: 32.5

I hope I never do this whole stay awake all day thing again.

Word Vanity

I really need to start writing earlier in the day.

I also need at least another ninety-three words to reach my 500.

You see how I typed out "ninety-three" up there? That, my friends, is technically correct grammar. When using a number in text, it should be written out in words - being that text is indeed words.

Why then didn't I write out "500"? The 500 is a title of a challenge - it's used as a proper noun. And proper nouns are written as they are given, even if it's not grammatically correct.

That up there is ninety-five words that I can add to my word count that currently consists of a badly-written press-release and some mumbling that will soon be on the BNO calendar. Tomorrow, I think I have two more press releases to write, and several emails. Hopefully I won't be so lazy, and I'll write some fiction to count toward my 500 for the day, instead of using all of the non-fiction announcements and garbly-gook that needs to be written. My point here? Stay tuned for some exciting news, and an event coming up in March at A Novel Adventure.

End word count (including this blog): 607.

What have I written

I can't keep myself focused on just one thing. So, I'll do two. I'll write a blog AND I'll work on a story.

Word count so far on the story: 86. It's depressing. I've been writing for twenty minutes now and I only have 86 words.

No, that's a lie. I've been writing for about three minutes; maybe as long as five. I've been clicking shiny buttons on my computer and flipping back to chat and typing there for a minute or two for the last twenty minutes.

And I just did it again.

It's amazing how much those distractions get in the way of writing. Technically, right now, I am writing. I could count this for my 500 words. I could even count the blog I wrote last night for the BNO as 500 words today, but I won't. And I won't for several reasons. Though really, it boils down to one: The 500 exists as a challenge to me as a writer. Yes, any sort of practice of my craft is still practice of my craft, and I am writing right now. Therefore, I get my cookie for the day and I could go to bed.

But, that's not what I write. I write fiction. I imagine myself slipping a story into a manilla envelope and mailing it off to the void, and waiting three months or more for a rejection slip. And I'll try it again and again until I get it right.

This blog is not fiction. This blog does not get me closer to mailing a story to an editor. This blog is distracting, and a form of procrastination - just like that button that tells me how many words of fiction I've written.

Final count for the night: 645. Hopefully I can come back tomorrow and capture it all again.

Back on Track

I admit, I slacked my way through December. I know I wrote some, and I know I spent some time editing, but mostly I slacked. I know I didn't write my full 500 much more than four or five times.

Today though, I did it. I wrote my 500, and I edited. And in the process of this writing, I was reminded of something very important, very disheartening, and something we all want to ignore: much of what I will write is complete and utter crap. That's right, it's junk. It will be scratched and thrown out the window faster than...well...faster than whatever awful thing is discovered in the fridge and finally thrown out.

I sat down tonight to add to a story I've been working on for a while. It was really just a scene. It was sad. It pulled at heart strings. I've made people cry who read it.

The crying is why I wanted to continue it. I evoked an emotional response. I like evoking an emotional response from my reader. And, I quite liked the characters. So, I thought on the scene and the characters, and I thought about who they are, why they were so sad. What brought them to the place where they were at? I had it all lined up in my head and ready to go. I sat down at my computer tonight to write it.

First, I cut a good half a page from the scene. Just a word here and there, and unnecessary sentence. I wasn't discouraged - I breathed new life into the scene.

And then it happened - everything I had decided about the characters was wrong, and it went write out the window. When I let them take care of themselves, the characters told me what they wanted to do, and how and where and when and why they wanted to do it. And, I have to admit, I like this new direction much better.

Here's where the utter crap part comes in. At first, I was rambling. I had an idea for the next scene; a new character that wanted to make himself known, so I went with it. And, immediately, I hated it. It wasn't going anywhere. The details were all wrong - nothing anyone would care about. And to top it all off, the scene dragged. It wouldn't end. I couldn't get it to an end. I realized the main character of the scene had contradicted himself at least twice.

I dropped what I had, and started over again. I didn't delete. I didn't want to loose my word count. But I did start over. And I liked it better. I wasn't completely discouraged by the words that appeared on the page. And I have reason to go at this again tomorrow.

How's your 500 coming along?