Friday Five

I have too much randomness in my head for a writing post this week, so I'm picking up the Friday Five theme from the blogosphere and running with it!


1. This weekend is the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the boy has been preparing for school Jubilee celebrations all week. He's made a crown and a lunchbox in preparation for today's festivities and when he left for school today in his red, white and blue, I couldn't help but think how really truly British he is -- right down to asking me if I remembered to put crisps in his lunch! I mean, seriously, don't you think he looks like a little English boy? Not a trace of New York in him that I can see...

2.  Speaking of New York, I spent last week back in New York City for work (and shopping and eating and meeting friends)! It was the first time I'd ever stayed in the city in a hotel on my own because, well, when you live there, what need is there for a hotel? It was also the first time since having the boy that I've been away for a whole week. I missed him a lot, but Skype is a wonderful thing.  And New York...sigh. Bagels. Pizza. Running in Central Park. In some ways it still feels so much like home. I walked everywhere. Literally. And I got to meet up with everyone I wanted to see! I feel blessed to have the kind of friends whom I can go years without seeing and we're able to pick up like we saw each other last week. That is something rare and wonderful.


3. Before I left for New York, I downloaded a ton of books to my Kindle. And didn't read any of them. But, now back in the groove of commuting and train delays, I just finished Tammara Webber's mature YA contemporary, Easy. So. Good. I've read all of Webber's books, but she knocks it out of the park with Easy. The plot and characterizations are terrific, and the conflict is so emotional and real I found my breath catching in my chest as I read.


4. I'm 50% convinced I want to sign up to run the Amsterdam marathon in October. A friend had originally said she'd do it with me, but every time I bring it up, she rapidly changes the subject, so I'm pretty sure this will be a solo run if I do it. I haven't done a full marathon in a LONG time and the thought of those 20-mile training runs makes me tired already. On the other hand, I'm kind of itching for a physical goal to focus on for a change. So, anyone either want to talk me into it or do it with me? Anyone?


5. And finally...It's June! How on earth did that even happen?


Happy Friday, everyone. And happy 4-day weekend if you're in the UK!

20Q Update

I've "finished" Twenty Questions! 


Tonight, I did the final find/replace for shrug (my characters shrugged A LOT) and sent it to my agent for her comments, review and general wisdom. Yes, that's right, my baby is out in the world, so to speak. Because even though others have read my manuscript, sending to my agent takes it to a different level. It says: I feel like this is the best it can be. I'm ready to commit to it. 


This book has taken me a little over a year to write. It's been draining and exhilarating in equal measure. In reality, I was committed to it long before I pressed send tonight, but now it's out there. Ready to be judged for the first time. My wonderful crit partners aren't judgmental. Nor is the one non-writer friend who's read it. But if my agent doesn't judge my manuscript, she's not doing her job. 


So now it's in her hands and, while she's doing her job, I'll be...biting my nails a bit, hoping she loves it. But I'll also be catching up on my reading, watching TV and scrolling through my file of ideas thinking what I'd like to do next. I also have a day job that's ratcheted up a lot in the last day or so. So, I'll be plenty busy. I'll barely have time to think about my manuscript taking its first baby steps. I won't give it a second thought, right? Anyone? Right???

This.

My friend posted this on Facebook and it made me think if I had a credo, this would be it. Maybe you'll find that it resonates with you, too. Happy weekend everyone.

Motivation -- Fake It Til You Make It

It's been raining A LOT here in London (despite all the bus signs proclaiming "We Are In Drought" -- which bugs me b/c I really think it should be "We Are In A Drought") and I think I'm finally succumbing to the relentless grey because my mood the past week or so has been wavering somewhere between mediocre and bad. I have editing to do, I owe my crit partner back her manuscript, and my day job is off-the-chart busy. And the boy still wants an occasional hot meal! The problem is: I'm not motivated to do any of it. I look at my tasks, flip through my emails, and scan the fridge but...ick. No thank you. With a big dose of no.


But needs must, as they say. (Actually, I'm pretty sure I've never said that before this minute, so maybe they don't say it, really.) Which is the point of this post. Not my haranguing -- that would probably make me feel better for a fleeting moment before it made me feel spectacularly self-indulgent. Because, no matter my motivation or lack thereof, things need doing! Deadlines must be met! Reading must be done. Curries must be created, if only because they provide an opportunity to use all the questionable veg in the crisper. Those tasks are not going away and, almost in spite of myself, I've actually come up with a few ways to fake motivation until it reignites itself. Or until it stops raining. Whichever comes first.

• Setting deadlines I'll be too embarrassed to miss. E.g., promising my agent my edited manuscript by (gulp) next week. She asked me to name a date. I did. And now I'm obligated to it unless I want to email her with my proverbial tail between my legs and tell her I didn't finish. And I so so so don't.
• Promising myself I can quit after a pre-determined period of time. When I first started running, I used to tell myself I could quit after a mile if I still hated it. I did occasionally quit back then and I occasionally quit now when I tell myself I can stop writing/editing after an hour. But, most of the time, once I'm in it, I don't hate it nearly as much as I did in anticipation.
• Taking advantage of small chunks of time. The boy goes to an after-school thing every Wednesday for an hour. I've found that if I take my laptop, I get more done in that hour waiting for him than I did in the previous six because I know it's a limited-time-only proposition.
• Getting off the internet and IM. I'm the first to admit I spend way too much time online. When I'm in the zone and motivated, I can multi-task. Now, however, I've got to suck it up and shut my browser and stay invisible on IM. The temptation is just too great to keep refreshing Twitter/Facebook/EOnline or find a friend willing to distract me. 
• Headphones. Our house is small. My husband is a TV junkie. I'm not. But I don't have an office and my only option for physically escaping the TV is taking my laptop to the bedroom. Since the issue is motivation, reading/writing in bed is the worst possible option. But the noise cancelling headphones are magic. I plug in, turn on some music and pretend those flashing images just beyond my line of sight are lightening. Or something.

Anything to add, anyone? I need all the tips I can get, so your helpful hints in the comments are much appreciated!

Teaser Tuesday -- 20Q

I'm deep in the throes of editing my WIP and am reading/reworking the first date scene. Remember first dates? Sigh. I'm pretty sure they're the reason I write YA and this one, between my two narrators, Ryan and Gabby, is a good one.

    “Oh, come on. I’m acting like one of those girls who throw themselves at you on any given Saturday night.” I should feel stupid, putting it out there like that, but I just feel relieved. Maybe we can just get the I’m not that kind of girl conversation over with before this goes any further.
    He doesn’t deny it. “Why is that?”
    For two seconds I think about telling him the real reason. That playing the girl Ryan might date is safer in case he doesn’t mean it. Because this still seems weird and out of the blue to me. And it scares the crap out of me how my heart races when I think I might see him. Let alone what it does when I finally do see him. But, there are limits to that kind of honesty, so I force a smile and put on Mom’s drawl because I never made any promises about not acting at all. “Well, your charm and good looks are simply overwhelmin’. Surely you must be used to that?”
    “Not from you” His tone calls me on my bullshit more than his words.

How Hill Running is A Lot Like Editing

I've been doing a lot of hill running lately. I've changed my running-with-the-dog route to include a major hill. When I run sans dog, I've been doing hill intervals. Although with or without dog, I loathe every minute of it. Loathe, I tell you. It doesn't matter that I have a great playlist just for hills or that I do my best to distract myself with whatever random thought comes into my head -- I can't make myself like those hills. At all.


Then why bother, you ask? Well, it makes me A LOT faster. There's a lot to be said for the anaerobic benefits of not being able to breathe in 30-second bursts. Because when I'm on the flat, running across the heath (big open field in British terms), I've been flying. This morning I ran a 7:32 mile. And trust me when I say I haven't done that in a LONG time. It's a heady feeling and the thing that keeps me pushing myself up those damn hills day after day.


I'm also knee-deep in editing. Day after day, I open my WIP and choose a section to re-read and amend. Some days, I get through two pages. Some days I get through twenty. But, no matter how few or how many pages I get through, I can't make myself like the editing process anymore than I like those hills. It's hard for me to go back and re-read the passages I put down knowing full well they'd need to be edited later. I've had moments where I've actually cringed that my crit partners had to read what was there in my first draft. There are moments when I think, "Oh my God, I can't make this big change that's required. It's too much work."


But, kind of like the hills, I've learned not to look up. Looking up the hills does me NO favors. It's better for me not to know how much further, to keep my eyes on the pavement, my focus on the beat and my mind on anything but how my legs are feeling. With editing, it's better for me not to calculate the number of pages or chapters remaining and just dive in where I left off. For better or worse.


And, like hill running, it's paying off. I read an edited section of my WIP a couple of days ago and I found that I actually liked it! It was so much better than what had been there in first-draft form. I could see the improvement, which, like that 7-something-minute mile, is a pretty heady feeling. It's more than enough for me to recognize the benefits of editing (and editing again), even if I don't necessarily like it. 

Who Are You?

Does the title above conjure up strains of "The Who" for anyone else? Or am I dating myself? (Although to be fair, the above-named song is also the background theme song for CSI, so it might be more familiar than I think.) God, I used to love "The Who"... I saw them in concert once and they were AMAZING!

Although I digress. This post is about the question the song asks, not the song, itself.

Who are you?

I've been thinking about this question a lot lately, particularly in relation to owning up to the fact that I'm a writer. In my last post, I called myself a closeted writer and it wasn't until I spelled it out that way I realized how true it is. I'm a wife, mother, colleague, friend, acquaintance with a social network that spans all those roles. But, within that network, I'd say less than 10% of the people I interact with know this thing that is so important to me.

Which is a dramatic step up from a year ago, which is more or less when I signed with my agent. Before that, I could count on one hand the number of (actual non-virtual) people who knew I was spending my free hours writing, editing and writing some more. My own parents had no idea I had written one book, let alone three, until I told them I signed with Marlene.

I don't need a therapist's couch to understand the implications of all of this. I didn't tell my family until I had something to show for it -- aka, an agent -- as if the completed manuscripts weren't enough. I don't tell other people for the same reason. I have an agent (yay!) but I haven't been published yet (boo!), so it feels...weird...to call myself a writer out there in the world. I say it and I squirm. No lie.

But, finishing my latest manuscript has made me want to own it more lately. I've told a few people at work and a friend or two from the school gate. The world didn't end. No one pointed a finger at me and called me a fraud. I still squirmed, but it felt good to say it. Damn good, in fact.

Not that I'm going out and telling the world, mind you. I'm still more comfortable talking about data centers, learning objectives (believe it or not), and superheroes than I am what my latest book is about. But, I'm starting to think that there's room for both. Maybe? A little?