Writer's Groups

As you may all know I am the founder of a writer's group. We've been in formation for about 4 years. While I love my group I've been struggling with the following thought: do writer's groups work for novelists who are still in the writing process of an new or incomplete novel? When you submit for critiques before your MS is completed, are you then essentially writing by committee?

I know what I think about this notions, but I thought we could open up maybe an interesting topic for discussion here.

What do you think? Do writer's groups work for novelists who are not done writing their MS? Let's share...

My Good Ol' Emotional Journal is Back...

Ahhh, nothing like a new job and feeling that everything's going to work out to help me reclaim my life and what better way than to begin my Emotional Journal again.

If you are unaware of what my Emotional Journal is, allow me to share... As writers, we often think we know exactly what each emotion feels like, but when we write about it, it often becomes cliche or starchy-stiff.

One thing I do to combat this is to keep an Emotional Journal. Anytime I feel intense emotion, I journal about it. I note where I feel that emotion in my body, what my reaction was, if I said anything, or reacted in any way. This way, the next time I have to write about that emotion, I can SHOW how my character is feeling instead of TELLING about it.

Here is my entry this week for FEAR

Situation: Driving at night on rural rt. 523 with my girls. I wanted to see if my lights were working because I recently hit a deer and a passing car was flickering their lights at me. To me, this usually signals to slow down because a police car is lying in wait to catch someone speeding. Seeing that there weren't any cop cars around, I wondered if perhaps my light was out on the side that I hit the deer. I meant to only turn my flood lights off but instead I turned off my headlights and floodlights so that we were tooling down the road in pitch blackness. This particular part of rt. 523 is usually deer-infested and as I just said, I recently hit one so the fear was immediate.

What I felt: I felt the fear in the very souls of my feet. They tingled and felt as if they visibly arched upward as if they were being sucked up from some vacuum inside my body.

Daughter #2 said she felt her fear in her shoulders on her back… it tensed up tight and without realizing it, her hands gripped what ever they could.

Daughter #1 said she felt spiky tingles on the back of her neck.

Then we started talking about how fear feels differently for different reasons, like waking up from a nightmare in the dead of night when the house is quiet and still and you feel you are the only person awake and scared in the whole world. The loneliness and fear feel differently than it did on the black, country, deer-infested road.

For me, when I wake up in the middle of the night, fear, like an electric current, crawls up my back. I feel better if someone holds me with my back against their front—spooning me. I feel almost an acute awareness that I am not alone even though I feel so lonely at those times. I feel someone is watching me that I cannot see. The old “Boogie Man” in the closet or under the bed creeps right back as if I were 9 years old again. But this kind of fear is definitely a prickling sensation that starts at the base of my back and rolls all the way up, up my back, up my neck, and even to the top of my head. It comes in waves and just keeps rolling like that.

What are the different ways you feel fear?

On another note, tomorrow I leave for the NJ SCBWI conference! I am psyched!!!! I am meeting with agent Jill Corcoran from the Herman Agency and I am psyched about that too.

Jill was one of the agents on our panel last year and I really wanted to meet with her then. She seems like a very nice, easy-going person and I can't wait to hear her constructive criticism on my newest novel, a YA sci-fi.

Wish me luck!

Toodles,

Sheri

What, You Don't Call, You Don't Write???

You might have wondered what ever happened to me. (Or maybe you stopped wondering.) I used to be a blogging junky, unable to stop myself, losing hour after hour into the blog-o-sphere. Then this year came and put me through the wringer and I was unable to blog regularly. Maybe you're wondering what's really been going on. Well, have I got a story for you...

Once upon a time, a young woman had a plan. She was going to be a teacher and a children's book writer. The plan was to teach for about three years while compiling ideas of picture books that were not written but ought to be written. For example, this young woman discovered there weren't any books on Ground Hog's Day, a "holiday" definitely touched upon in Kindergarten. Now there are a gabillion books on Ground Hog's Day.

As what often happens in life, three years swiftly became seven. The young woman married and had a baby. And another baby. And foolishly thought, I'll just write when the baby naps. Little did she know she would be tired and she would need a nap when the baby napped. But she did manage to take a writing class, read lots of books on writing, write several picture books, lots of bad poetry, take a two-year course on screen writing, begin a novel, write several drafts, as well as run a household and a thriving tutoring business.

Before she knew it, she had been on a nine year maternity leave.

"Time to go back to teaching!" she thought.

Gladly, she accepted a one-year maternity-leave position thinking it was a perfect way to test the waters and see if she and her family were ready for her to return full-time to work.

She had mainly been a kindergarten teacher before but she had also taught some first grade and one year of third grade so when this new school gave her fourth grade, it wasn't want she hoped for, but she accepted it with an open mind.

Grading 72 essays each week was very different then cutting out shapes for kindergarten. She loved her students and teaching them but all her time went to her teaching; Sadly, there was never any left over time for her family or her writing. She became very sad.

The maternity leave position came to an end. The teacher wanted her job back and there weren't any other positions available, so the still kind-of young woman no longer had a teaching job. She wasn't sad, though. She believed in the Universe and that everything would work out. She believed another job was right around the corner, one that would suit her even better.

Four years later...

...the still, kind-of-young woman had all but given up. She struggled to pay her bills without her teaching position, a recession hit, her taxes went up... (You know the story.) In order to make ends meet, she willingly worked several part-time jobs while her husband worked every other week in NJ and every other week in MA . They were grateful to have jobs in such a scary, lean time but even with all of that, they still couldn't make ends meet. She tried to remind herself that the Universe has a plan and everything will work out but she was losing faith.

Meanwhile, she did all she could to keep her writing dream alive. She began the Hunterdon County Children's Writers and Illustrators Group. She became an active member of NJ's SCBWI. She kept writing and reading and honing her skills, meeting with agents and editors and fellow writers. But all the guilt of pursuing a dream while they struggled to pay the bills added so much guilt and stress, it was hard to feel creative.

One day, she decided to accept the fact that she would never be able to return to teaching and began shredding her teaching papers in her file cabinet. She didn't do this angrily. No. It was more of a surrender, an acceptance of what is is, what will be will be, and a willingness to be open to the possibilities. As she was shredding her last papers--a packet on Blooms Taxonomy--she received an email.

It was from the Charter School she desperately wanted to teach for. They wanted to set up a phone interview! Happy Days!!!! Then they wanted a face-to-face interview! Hallelujah!!! And then...

THEY OFFERED HER A TEACHING POSITION.

But not just ANY positions...

A KINDERGARTEN TEACHING POSITION!!!!!!!

She was on top of the world. Someone was going to save her, believe in her, give her the chance she needed and deserved. She was beyond thrilled.

A happy ending! Yay!

This, of course, is a true story about me but I'd like to fill you in on this other reason for my lack of blogging as well. My first born baby is becoming a Bat Mitzvah in TWO weeks. And boy, am I busy with details and plans!

And... it's that time of year again... The NJ SCBWI Annual June Conference is THIS coming weekend! Yay! I am meeting with agent, Jill Corcoran, who was there last year and seems like a wonderful person/professional to get to know. I cannot wait. I am very, very exciting for all of these new wonders in my life... a new job, a new chapter in my daughter's life, and the June conference.

Thanks for all your patience, for not giving up on me or my blog, and if you are still out there, waiting for me to blog again.

Enjoy the sunny weather!!!

Happy Writing,
Sheri

Ahhhhh.... Spring.

It's really here. It really, truly is. Flowers have pushed their way up through the ground, birds are nesting, goslings are waddling. Ahhhhh Spring. And I have also thawed. It's amazing how I am so affected by the seasons and how more lively I feel in the spring, summer, and fall.

Today, was still busy and crazed with running around but it was all okay. Better then okay, in fact. Em had a friend sleep over and I was actually up for it. Maybe even looking forward to it. I even took them to the mall and didn't mind one bit. David got the pool running and sparkling clean and then she asked if her friend could come over again to swim. Sure! Why not?

I made dinner and sat outside in our Adirondack chair as the chicken sizzled on the BBQ and it was all good.

So what about you? Are you feeling lighter, happier, more able to deal with things now that spring has officially sprung?

On another note... The NJ SCBWI Juner is coming up. Pages and a synopsis were due a week or so ago. I met the deadline goal with literally minutes to spare... Ahhhh... it felt soooooooo good to write again. I've begun a brandy-new novel. It's a sci-fi. *shudder to think* As a kid I hated sci-fi. As an adult I like the kind that is a social commentary, a study on life with a what if spin. That is the kind of sci-fi I am writing and so far, I am loving it. Love my MC, my secondary characters, the plot, the antagonist, the twist... It just all feels so good.

My first novel was well... my first novel. Duh... But I just mean it was more then just trying to figure out what I wanted to say. I also had to figure out how to say it. I will come back to that novel and do another draft but first a first draft on this one. I still need a better title but that will come. Right now it's 2020. A double entendre.

So, happy warmer weather everyone and may your days be filled with flowers and robins.

Early Signs of Spring

Yesterday, it was still winter.
The bare and empty branches
Still quivered in the bitterness.

Today, something is different.
Outside, a cacophony of
Tree frogs and song birds.

But it’s music to my ears.

Although my ears are still
Cloaked in winter,
My soul, not fully thawed.

What is it that wakes them?
A stronger gravitational pull?
The closeness of the sun?

Is my spring device broken,
Still in a deep freeze,
Gripped in winter's icy touch?

I inhale the fresh grass and wet earth,
Let the yellows of the forsythia,
And the whites of the crocuses play with my irises.

The warm sun soothes
But does not yet penetrate
This glacial soul.

I Interupt My Study on S.A.D. To Bring You... When to Don a Tiara...

Kelly Hoeckeleberg-Young is quite hysterical. If you don't read her blog, start right after reading this posting! She had a really great link to Kristin VanOgtrop's blog Simply Stated about Julia Mancusco's tiara donning at the Olympics. So while you're traveling the blog-o-sphere be sure to stop by there and have a really good laugh. All this laughing just might cure me of S.A.D. after all. (Who needs a light box?)

So this brings up the topic of when to don a tiara? Here are my various lists...

1. When I type the words THE END to my WIP
2. When I sign on with an agent
3. When I sell my book to a publisher
4. When my book is sold to a movie producer
5. When I walk the red carpet to view my movie

Here are some more practical times...

1. Every time I pay off a credit card (my husband will get to wear one then, too)
2. On the first day of summer vacation
3. When I finally find a job that pays me well
4. Anytime I remember to bring my coupons with me to the grocery store
5. Anytime I find amazing sales
6. Every September on the first day of school
7. For all the times I clean the entire house from top to bottom (that comes with a glass of wine, too)
8. When every stitch of laundry is done in the house

Times in the past I could have worn a tiara had I known this was a viable choice...

1. Graduation from HS and college
2. When I got married
3. During the whole nine months of pregnancy (both times)
4. After delivering both of my daughters
5. When I was no longer "chapped" from nursing both my girls

But the number one time to don a tiara...

1. Whenever you and your husband fight and you're right!

So don those tiaras ladies! It's the number one way to beat the winter blues.

Living Life With S.A.D. - Entry Three - Hope

Take me with you.
Fly me away from here
to warmer places on the shore.

We can look for periwinkles,
white spindles,
and lions paw.


It can be so grand,
just you and me
in the sand, sun and sea.

The sun can't be too far away
For I heard birds singing today
in some nearby tree,
building a nest for his sweetie.

He called,
"Pur-dee, Pur-dee, Pur-dee,"
from the top of some barren Sycamore.

With calls of flattery to his mate
it reminded me that spring
won't be too, too late.

You and me,
Well, we don't even have to talk.
Just take me with you
to the sand, sun, and sea.

Let's dine on oysters
and wear their pearls
and when the sun makes it way back to here
I will return. I shall return.

I had two houses to see today for my freelance writing job today. And although it's been raining all day and it is quite grey and dreary, I heard birds singing in a nearby tree. And it in fact did sound like he was saying pretty, pretty, pretty. It made me smile.

There is no rhyme or reason to living with S.A.D. Some days are good. Some are bad. You just take it as it comes. And I find on the days when I have to get out of the house, when I have no choice, those days I am better.

But still, I cannot wait for spring. I miss the warm sun on my shoulders.

Entry Two; Living Life with S.A.D.

The water rushed in through windows and under door jams.

I must get to higher ground, she thought.

She climbed onto chairs, counters, tables but still the water rose.

Seeing no possible alternative she succumbed to the rising waters. At first the cold stole her breath and made her lips draw a thin, straight line. Quickly it rose to her thighs, waste, chest, forcing her to suck in her stomach so as not to touch her skin to her cold, damp clothes. The cold made it difficult to breathe. She gasped like a fish upon dry land and decided to fight. But it was too late.

Her dressed spilled out like liquid fabric around her--floating, billowing. She waded through the force of the water searching for higher ground. She found the stairs and once on dry risers she took them two at a time. She ran to her bedroom where she always felt safe before but the water swirled in anyway. It found her and continued to rise.

There was no relief from the water. None at all. Her bed. He bookshelves. The top of her desk. The water rose to meet her no matter how high she climbed, no matter how hard she wanted to fight, the water fought back harder. Finally, she had no choice but to tread. Her arms and legs circled until they could no longer function, aching from the strain.

At last she gave up and became still. Her arms and legs. Her chest and feet. All still. The stillness was heavy and so she sank. She sank to the soggy carpet that used to be the floor of her bedroom. She sank down the stairs that she used to trot down to breakfast in the glorious morning sunlight. She sank to the wooden floor of the kitchen where she cooked many meals for her family.

Although strange, there was no denying how peaceful it was. Quiet. Life moved in graceful, liquid slow-motion. She knew she couldn't hold her breath for too much longer and she knew there was no higher ground to swim to any longer. So she did the only thing she could do. She took in one last, long, watery glance of it all--her home, her hands, arms, feet, legs. Her life. Her. And then all that was left to do was to take in one large gulp of water.

And it was done.

Living Life With S.A.D. Entry Two

One Hour at a Time

Something happened. She wasn't quite sure what exactly or when it all began but something had changed. On silent padded paws, winter had broken into her sleep in the middle of the night and stolen her voice. And without a voice, she had no words. And without words, well, I don't have to tell you the horrors of a wordless world, do I?

But still, when did it begin? Bit by bit, piece by piece (no, that's too cliche... try again...) But still when did it all begin? October. Yes, it had to have begun way back then when the leaves had turned to amber and the evening sky to velvety shades of fuschia, purple and midnight blue. October had become the month of death since her mother passed away nine years ago. And yet every October, she was surprised when the sullenness overtook her. (Too dramatic? But it's true... stick to the truth).

Then came November, the month that's all about family. (Family.) What is family anyway? Biology that binds? Does it really? Blood is thicker then water. She knows many who would beg to differ.

December. More cheerful holidays that drive suicide ratings higher then any other month of the year. (Don't worry, there's no suicidal tendencies here). But December is more for her then holidays and forced cheer. It's the month they shared a birthday, she and her mom. December 28th. She remembers a time when she hated that fact, when she selfishly wished she had the day all to herself. But she was a little girl then and didn't really know what she was wishing for. Until now. Now that her birthday cakes just say Happy Birthday with her single name in curly blue cursive. Plenty of room for all the words to spread out.

January. Can anything be more depressing then the world growing older during a time of the world's recession? 10% of Americans are jobless and losing their homes. She could be one of those. Every day debt collectors calling asking for payment from money she does not have. Last year she worked three jobs, sometimes even more, to make ends meet. This year she lost 2/3 of those jobs and a perspective one. Two losses even happened on the same day. That day was extra special. (Too sarcastic? Too angry?) But it was still summer then and the summer sun had a way of transposing her to the Land of the Lotus Eaters and maybe there was no need to worry. Things work out. They always do. Now she's not so sure.

But then, as it always happens, October after October, and way leads unto way, worry, fear, and depression all move in, unpack and settle in for the long barren winter to begin. She remembers now, yes, that's when it all began, as it always does, in October when at first it's too subtle to notice and she still has some fight in her. Like the trees holding onto their chlorophyll before they succumb and become naked under winter's merciless wind.

As usual, it's so insignificant at first, just a cell here, a membrane there. A hair follicle. A toenail clipping. And then scrapings of flesh, pieces of flesh, chunks. And then it preys on her soul, her reason, her purpose, her goals, dreams. Until one day she looks in the mirror and notices she has simply vanished. She's become a missing person. M.I.A. (Be careful, don't get too melodramatic).

But wait. Listen. Shhhh. Somewhere deep inside of her, rattling around in her ribcage a songbird sings. You can still hear it if you try. There. Just beyond the heartbeat. Yes, the heart still beats. And just beyond it, listen. Do you hear it? The tiny woodland bird that will come home soon to nest in the early frosty spring. He still sings in her heart. But there is a disconnect. A wire left dangling from a fierce and mighty winter storm.

She has a friend, many friends, but this one friend said something that stuck, something that beckoned the sinews to work overtime. She said, One Hour at a Time.

One Hour at a Time. She can do that. One Hour at a Time. February's almost done. March is long and scary. But remember. One Hour at at Time. And then April. April with crocuses and tulips and life prevails once again, pushing its way through the defrosting ground. Buds on trees appear, birds come home to nest, bees buzz. Even the insects are missed and loved because on their dusty translucent wings comes her friend and saviour. Spring. (Corny, yes but all of it true).

Living a Life with S.A.D.

A Drive by Shooting

Deadlines, Goals, and Resolutions, Oh My!

Every New Year, and sometimes for the Jewish New Year too, I post goals and resolutions and set new deadlines for myself. I look back and see if I met any of the goals listed the previous year. I see if I've grown or learned anything new and I reflect on what I want to discover about myself as a writer and a person for this new year.

But this year, I am not sure I will do that. I'm not sure why exactly. It's not that I am taking some stand against resolutions because I'm not. Resolutions are just goals and I am all for goals.

So what's with the silence this year? I keep pondering this one myself. I think it's because I have the same goal I have had for a few years now so why write it? After all, it's embarrassing to have the same goals year after year. Isn't it???

So why write it and tell all of you?

I suppose to keep myself honest. I suppose to keep myself on track. I suppose to remind myself that even if it takes me 50 years to do what some can do in just a few short years, they are still my goals, my ambitions, my dreams, my desires and they deserve my recongnition and attention.

So, here it goes... Once again, my goals for 2010 are to polish this latest draft of OW and get an agent who believes in my work.

I would also like to outline and write at least the first draft of my next YA novel and outline my sequel to OW.

PHEW! There. I did it. A bit like pulling off a band aid. Quick. Maybe a little painful. But much relief now that it's done.

There's something to be said about this time marching on business that makes me feel so low about my goals still being my goals. Somethng about how that makes them feel so unobtainable. Something about the fact that my goals haven't changed much and so it feels like I am spinning my wheels. It feels embarrassing. They feel unconquerable.

But truthfully I know better.

I know that I have learned with each draft I write. And time marches on with or without you so even if your goals haven't changed it is important to stay in the game, to pick up those drum sticks, don that marching band feathered hat, and march on brave writers. March on!

Happy New Year everyone! And as always, Happy Writing.

Not Here But Not Gone

Sorry for the interuption of this blog. Hopefully all will be restored not too long after the New Year.

Have a happy and healthy!

Sheri

NaNoWriMo Week 3

Notice my wall is becoming more pink and less orange.

Also I added my cast (just in case my book ever becomes a movie... =] )

WORD COUNT: As of today, Monday November 16, I am up to 14, 475 words.

Goal For This Week: I have to write 2,960 words a day in order to reach 50,000 words by November 30th - that's with taking off on Thanksgiving and the Friday after. If I succeed at this goal, I will reach 32, 235 words by Sunday. Which means I will have to write 17,765 words the final week of November - Again, at 2960 words a day, it is plausible.

Downside: My downside is also an upside... I begin a brand new job tomorrow. My training will, however, demand a full work schedule for the last two weeks of November! But that's OK. I will have to write at night when I come home - that is, if I don't have to study for the test I have to pass at the end of training. But again, I will make time and make it work as best as I can.

NaNo was a way really of making me reach my goal of this 7th draft being ready to go so I can start querying agents Jan 1, 2010. So, not that I am giving myself an out, but I do have December to reach my personal--albeit, not NaNo--goal.

Upside: I learned something HUGE this week.

1. I CAN outline.
2. I love my outline
3. My outline can grow and change as I grow and change. (It's becoming pinker by the day - pink index cards mean polished - another not-a-NaNo-goal)
4. AND... I put a common theory of revision writing to test tonight and lo and behold, IT WORKED!

What's the theory? Some writers believe when you write a brand-new draft, you should never look back at your old draft again.

Sounds scary, right? And a little crazy like reinventing the wheel. BUT... the theory is, all the good stuff from the previous draft will stick with you, all the yucky stuff will be forgotten, and new stuff will emerge.

So, after a little "whine" while trying to merge two old chapters and add new info and yet keep to my short chapter page lengths, I decided to give it a try. I shut down the old draft and just wrote. Seriously, 15 minutes later, I had 1,097 new words, all shiny and sparkly.

Robert Olen Butler - From Where You Dream - you are becoming my new god and bible!!!! It worked, people! It really worked.

A COLOSSAL BREAKTHROUGH!!!

Look, Mommy. A rainbow!
No, it's not a rainbow, darling. It's a writer's hard work.

Yes, that's right, that which you see before you, is my story from beginning, middle, twist, ending, including the rules of my world and its fantasy elements in all its color-coded glory. It's a beauty, isn't she?

This is a HUGE breakthrough for me. Me, who said she was an organic writer. Me, whose taken, ahem, $^@(@ years and I am still writing the darn thing. Me, who had all these holes and thought, well, when I get to that part, I will just know what to do.

BUZZ! No. Wrong answer.

An outline is your friend. Embrace the outline. Love the outline. Beeeee the outline.

Okay, maybe I've gone a little loopy from all this NaNo stuff (which reminds me, I better keep this brief!) But I've done it. I've really done it - an outline in a living, breathing format that can grow and change as my story grows and changes. I love my outline.

I've always wanted to do this, but I never wanted to put tape on my wall or I thought it would look messy or I was afraid of strangers coming in my office and seeing it and wanting to read it. Gasp!

BUZZ! Again, wrong answer.

If you see something in your mind, if that little voice in your head says, I really wish I could display my outline on my wall so I can stare at it from time to time, read my whole story from beginning to end in five minutes... if you hear a voice in your head telling you your creative steps, then you need to listen, folks!

And listen I finally did.

Wanna know my color-code? Pink are my polished chapters. Orange are chapters from a previous draft, yellow are brandy-new chapters and the green and yellow mess to the left... those are the various rules of the various fantasy elements in my story.

TaDAAA!!!!! And there you go, a living breathing outline that I can change in a second flat if need be. Now, I better go stare at it some more and get on to my NaNo word count. THE END, here I come!!!!!

NaNoWriMo Week 2

Goal For This Week: 14,000 words

What I Accomplished Last Week: 7, 664 words and a lot of whining!

Downside: I am not off to a good start. All that NaNo hype and I am behind!!!! I just couldn't get out of my own way this week, nor could I get myself started. Which, is really weird considering, I was SO psyched and ready for NaNo. The truth is, two weeks before NaNo began, I fell into a serious case of the blues - it was the anniversary of my mother's death, I am dealing with some finacial difficulties, I've been looking for a job (like the rest of America) and have not been able to find one (like the rest of America)… Anyway, by the time NaNo actually began, I was a deflated balloon. I've been trying to blow myself up again, but I think I have a slow leak somewhere that needs patching… This week, my goal HAD to shift. I had to find a job. And I did. Huzzah! So, NaNo took a back seat. BUT… I also recognize that I allowed it to take a back seat and did not sacrifice in anyway. I didn't stay up late. I didn't wake up early. I just allowed my time to silently slip away. Bad, bad writer-girl!!!!

Upside: I learned a lot about myself and the length that my negative voice will go at self-sabatage - (it will even make unnecessary gynocologist appointments to avoid writing. Imagine that! A story for another time.) Anyway, the positive is, I'm on to you, negaitve voice, and how you'll stop at nothing to stop me. So, I am constipated in the creative sense. I've had a daily dose of prunes and well, sorry, but I'm waiting for my writing to run… (Ok, I'll stop with the bowel analogy and get on with it.) The true upside is… it's a new week and I can catch up, eventually. And my true goal is not in the word count. It is in reaching those elusive words… THE END!!!

Any Additional Comments:

See ya at the finish line! Now get to work!!!

HEEERRRE... WEEEEE... GOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Ready for the ride, the thrill of a challenge, the excitement of a goal??? Well, ready or not, here we go! Today is November 1st, and for many of us that means our lives are no longer how we know them. For this month, we will live, eat, sleep, breathe NaNo.

So, if you are up for the challenge of writing 50,000 words in one month, then you will need a plan. Will you write 1,667 words a day, or do more during the week and less on weekends? If you don't know, then I suggest you figure it out and fast, because all successful NaNo experiences happen with a plan.

For the next month, I will be posting my progress weekly. Notice my NaNoWord-o-meter is back on 0... Throughout the month, hopefully, we will watch it grow until I reach goal of 50,000 or a completed 2.0 draft, whichever comes first!

For those of you who are also NaNo-ing this month, I wish you good luck! And for those of you who are sitting this one out, I say, Bok, Bok, Bok, Bok, Bokkkkk! No, I am only kidding. I would never squawk like a chicken at you... But to all, enjoy the view because sometimes it won't be pretty or for the faint of heart. There might be elation followed by depression, followed by breakthroughs, to plateaus... but no matter the emotion of the week, one thing's for sure, writing is like a roller coaster. So strap down that harness and heeeerrre..... weeeeee..... GOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!