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?