Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

NaNo life November 16, 2012

Filed under: Commentary,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:26 pm
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We had a three day week, as BC had the Remembrance Day statutory holiday on Monday, and our school district had a closure on Tuesday.  That was great because I was able to get caught up on my NaNoWriMo words.  Yesterday we had Parent Teacher Interviews at school, and so I was away, working or with colleagues for thirteen and a half hours.  That’s a long day! 

I did manage to get MOST of my NaNo writing done, but I was 55 words short of par at the end the day.  It is a mark of how tired I was that I was not able to find 55 words before I headed to bed! 

The blog suffered a day or two of neglect as a result, and this is not going to be very brilliant.  However, with all the dog-ears on my copy of Stephen King’s On Writing, there is always a quote to share.  Here’s one for today, the day after report cards were issued at my school:

At the time we’re stuck in it, like hostages locked in a Turkish bath, high school seems the most serious business in the world to just about all of us.  It’s not until the second or third class reunion that we start realizing how absurd the whole thing was.

Stephen King.  On Writing. p. 54

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NaNo Word count

Nov 15:   1554  (Total 24,945)

Nov 16:

 

pep talk for NaNobots and something yummy November 13, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:07 pm
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If you’re officially signed up for NaNoWriMo you get pep talks in your in-box now and then.  They’re very encouraging.  Occasionally they’re very funny.  Today’s is both, so I thought I’d just send you over to the NaNo website to see what founder Chris Baty has to say.  He’s been through this a few times.  He knows!  lol

Yesterday’s marathon was probably my ‘dark night of the soul’ as I slogged to get back on track.  I’m just setting up to start today’s writing, and I have an inclination to bake some Karjalanpiirakka in between sentences.  Maybe that will send Ben off to Finland or something?  (Wouldn’t that be weird?  I never did know where he went when Grace couldn’t reach him.  Hmm).

If you’ve never been to Finland, you’ve probably never heard of Karjalanpiirakka which are a staple there, and generally the first thing I buy when I get off the plane.  They have them in the airport cafes for a Euro each.  There is a paper thin rye crust filled with assorted things.  Most commonly (most tastily in my opinion) short grain rice cooked in milk.  They’re finicky to make from scratch, but that’s the only option here in Canada.  Traditionally they’re served with chopped boiled egg mixed with butter, but not being very traditional, my favourite way is warm with cinnamon sugar!  Mmmm.

Yeah.  I think I’ll go start baking, and the words can wait.

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NaNoWriMo Day 13:   1600ish        (Total for November: 21,681)

 

I think I can… I think I can… November 12, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:22 pm
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Today, day 12 of NaNoWriMo par is 20,000 words.

This morning I had under 16,000, but if I don’t get caught up now, I’ll only get further behind.   So today’s blog post is compliments of the inspiration of The Little Engine that Could:

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The day 12 report:

midnight: 15,674

noon:   16, 326  words

1:18 pm: 16,436  (110 words in 80 mins?  Seriously?  One and a half words a minute?  At this rate it’ll take days!  ARG!)

1:42 pm: 16,680 (a bit better!)  250 words in 24 minutes. 10 words a minute.

3:13 pm: 17, 495 (took a bit of a break there, ech hem).

4:00 pm 17,934

4:24 pm 18,314

5:11 pm 18,768

5:51 pm 19,071

6:00 pm 19, 260

6:20 pm 19,617

6:40 pm 20,087!

YEEEE HA!  Just in time for me to make it to the meeting of the Shuswap Association of Writers where I get to announce that Diana Gabaldon had agreed to attend the 2014 Word on the Lake Festival of Readers and Writers! 🙂

 

on being a teen when your birthday says you’re not November 11, 2012

Filed under: Commentary,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:04 pm
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I was just reading a blog post by a writer who was pondering the complications of writing from the narrative perspective of a 16 year old girl.  Here are  my thoughts about writing as a teen, when one is actually years or even decades past the teen years.

It’s been a few decades since my own high school graduation, but I am lucky.  I write for teens, I am with teens all day long, and I never grew up (this means  that I actually gave birth to children who are older than I am).  I have a unique perspective on the life of the average teen, and access to them.  I watch, listen, and absorb what I can in the hallways of the high schools where I teach .  I hear about the latest vocabulary, music, games, movies, and books.  At the same time, I am no longer a teen, despite not having grown up, so I’m not really in the club.  Then again, I wasn’t in the club when I was actually a teen, either.  That’s not such an uncommon scenario.

Many things haven’t changed much.

There are the kids who party.  There are the jocks.   There are the kids who escape their troubles (real or imagined) with substance abuse, with music, art, writing, mechanics or with academic excellence.  There are the kids who are motivated and going far.  There are the kids who don’t have a lot going for them, and don’t have big dreams.  There are enthusiastic kids.  There are depressed kids.

Teens are a snap shot of society, though in a time of striving for identity, they are inclined to extremes now, just like they were then.

If you’re writing as a teen in the present, the biggest change in modern teen life compared to life as a teen  in the 60s, 70s or 80s is that the ubiquitous cell phone must be part of the action.  Cell phones are umbili for social survival for teens today.  They require constant connection like The Borg. It’s quite a fascinating thing to observe, especially when the paradox of feeling ‘different’ creates the fundamental paradox: connected and outside simultaneously.  That’s the nature of being a teen today.

The most important things remain the same.  They still want to change the world.  Many still believe, rightly, that they can.  That optimism is also an essential component of youth, and the one I like the best.

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Here I am at Hallowe’en with some of  the people who make me happy to get up and drive to work each day, my Acting class.   Can you find me?  🙂

NaNoWriMo Day 11: 1100 words   (Total 15,000)

 

Turn on the tap first November 10, 2012

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:25 am
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If you’re going to be a writer, the first essential is just to write. Do not wait for an idea. Start writing something and the ideas will come. You have to turn the faucet on before the water starts to flow.

– Louis L’Amour

Isn’t this a remarkably logical analogy?  Pondering, ruminating, meditating, and considering are all very good, but until the thoughts are forced up the pipe and onto the page, we have nothing.

When I wrote Grace Awakening Dreams and Power, it took just under six months to go from nothing to over 150,000 words.  That’s about 25,000 words a month, half the pace of NaNoWriMo.  No wonder I’m feeling pressured.  I do my writing for the day, and hit ‘word count.’  It is generally about 850 words.  Inwardly I groan, because I need to double that count.  Sometimes I just go right back and pound out the next scene, but most of the time I need a break.

I would like to keep up the ‘assigned’ pace, but if I don’t, I just have to continue with my comfortable pace and I will get there eventually.  The important thing, as L’Amour says, is just to sit down and write.  As Diana Gabaldon reminds me, it’s important to write every day to keep up the inertia.

Write on NaNobots!  We shall get there eventually if we don’t give up!

NaNoWriMo Day 10:   1101       (Total for November so far: 13,900)

 

Alex pays a visit to Calgary November 9, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:05 pm
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Another snippet of Grace Awakening Destiny (book 4 in the series), the project that I’m working on for NaNoWriMo.  Ben is narrating.

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Ryan and Paul were lounging on the couch setting up for a Star Wars marathon.

“Do we go old school and watch chronologically by creation, or by watch them in story order?” Ryan asked, fanning the DVDs.

Paul shrugged.  “I vote for story order.  Do you care, Ben?”

I turned off the popcorn maker and stirred in the butter, “No, that’s fine.”  I just wanted them distracted.  Paul had been watching me suspiciously since he’d found me stepping out of glowing light into a U of C toilet.

The movie started and they sat mesmerized, even though they had probably watched the story a hundred times already.

I checked the pizza, but it wasn’t quite ready yet.

Ryan was reciting lines along with the actors.

It was a comforting familiarity.  Everything was fine in their world.  It was kind of soothing.  Ryan didn’t have anything to worry about beyond picking up cute girls and Paul’s greatest worry was…  Well, I guess I was probably Paul’s greatest concern at the moment.  How was I going to distract him from that?  I reached into the oven to pull out the pizza.

The door bell rang.  Ryan glanced over, saw that I was busy, and said, “I’ll get it.”

There was a murmur of voices.

“Come on in, then.”  I heard him say, “We’re watching a movie marathon.”

I walked into the room with a pizza in each hand.

“Hey, Ben.”

I stared, eyes glued to his until the heat from the pizza pan started burning through the oven mitts.  I hastily set the pizzas on the table while Paul and Ryan looked curiously between the newcomer and me.

Ryan said hesitantly, “He said you know him?”

I grunted, “Oh, yeah.  I know him.”  I stared, eyes narrowed.

“Come on, Ben. Don’t be such an ass.”  He strolled over to the couch and sat down in my place.  He nodded to Paul, “Hi.  I’m Alex.”

Ryan glanced over to me.  I spun on my heels and went back into the kitchen.  I’d try to hit him if I stayed in the room.  That would not be a good thing.

I heard Ryan ask, “So how do you know Ben?”

“We go way back.”  Alex laughed in a way that caused the sensation of  insects running marathons up and down my spine.

“So are you family? old friends?”

Alex chortled, “Something like that.  Pass the pizza.  Old Ben was always fond of the Italian food.”

I breathed deeply, fighting to get my temper under control.  He had to be here just to drive me crazy.  If so, he was probably thoroughly enjoying my reaction.  I needed to get a grip on myself.  I was just too sensitive where Mars and Alexandros were concerned.

I took four cans of Coke out of the fridge and dropped the cans on the coffee table.  Alex leaned forward first, snapping the ring with his thumb.  He poured half a can down his throat, belched, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and asked, “So, where are your ladies tonight?”

Ryan and Paul looked at each other and then over to me.

I looked at Alex, ignoring them.

Ryan said, “Paul’s girlfriend, Georgia, is babysitting.  I’m between girls at the moment.  Ben’s girlfriend is…”

“Stop it, Alex.” I interrupted.  “You know damn well where Grace is.  What the hell is going on?  Why are you here?”

“What?  I can’t drop in on an old friend?  Shoot the breeze?  Enjoy some of Lucasfilm’s great artistry?”  He smirked, enjoying the success of his bait.

“No one says ‘shoot the breeze’ these days.  Get your vernacular correct.”

Paul snapped his eyes over to us.

Alex laughed.  “Whatever.  I’m not trying to blend in with the locals.”

“Oh?  What are my friends?”

Alex raised an eyebrow and looked over to Ryan and Paul.  “Oh!  I just presumed…”  He looked back at me and whispered, “They don’t know?”

“No.”

“But we want to.” Paul said.

“Want to what?” asked Ryan, looking completely confused.  “What are you talking about?”

“No, Paul. He’s not telling you anything.”

Alex grinned.

I scowled.  “You are not.  Do you hear me?  My friends.  My rules.  They are not going to be endangered.”

“They won’t be.”  His grin was devious.  “Not really.  You know that you need all the help you can get.”

“We’d love to help,” said Paul.

“Help do what?” asked Ryan, without taking his eyes off the screen.

“I don’t need help.”

Alex laughed.  “Actually, you do.  They sent me to warn you.”

Paul studied him.  “Who sent you?”

Alex returned Paul’s curious look and then turned to me.  “I like this one.  He’s eager.”

“The eager ones are always the first ones to die,” I muttered.

Paul got a funny look on his face.

Alex nodded.  “Well, that’s true enough, but they do it with such enthusiasm.”

I sighed.

Ryan glanced over at me and then back to the screen.  “Who’s going to die?”

“Me, apparently.”  Paul said.  “How exactly am I going to die?” he asked Alex, conversationally.

Alex shrugged.  “It could go any number of ways, really.  Torn apart by monsters. Impaled by a spear.  Sliced open by a sword.  Exploded.  Drowned.  There’s no predicting, I’m afraid.”

Paul looked at me.  “What is he talking about?”

I shook my head.

“He’s crazy, right?”

“I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised.” I said.

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NanoWriMo Day 9 total: 1519   (November Total 12,799)

 

what’s lingering from #SIWC2012 November 7, 2012

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:38 am
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As I pound away on my NaNoWriMo piece, I keep hearing a voice in my head.  Not surprisingly, it’s Diana Gabaldon’s <g> but it’s not the advice I thought I was taking from my blue pencil or all the workshops I attended at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference.

At my blue pencil, Diana and I discussed historical language, dialogue, and whatnot, and while that was important,  what I keep hearing in my head is her laughing voice summarizing,  “You need to have something happen …   And it needs to be something fairly interesting.”

I mean, that’s not news.  That’s so obvious that it’s painful.  She was specifically saying that if the section of my historical novel that she read was going to end up as the beginning, then something intense had to happen.  However, the line is turning into a mantra when ever I sit down to write.  I suspect that is what makes Diana’s books so  engaging.  On EVERY page, something happens.  It’s good advice.  Don’t explain.  Make things happen.

As I write, I can clearly hear Diana’s voice, chuckling with me, just as my time with her was running out, and I think that basic though this comment might be, it might be the most important thing I took away from SIWC this year.

Something has to happen.

I intend to ponder it a lot.  We are authors.  We make things happen.  All these NaNoWriMo words are created from nothing.  We’re making things happen.  When I’m typing away I need to keep making things happen.

In my life, I need to make things happen.

NaNoWriMo count day 7: 1651  (Total 10,664)

 

So, whatcha writin’ in that NaNoWriMo thing, anyway? November 6, 2012

Filed under: Grace Awakening,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:22 am
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Thought you might like to see what’s coming along.  Ben is now at University of Calgary with his friends Paul and Ryan.  (Craigie Hall is the music building). Grace is living in the Shuswap with her Auntie Bright.  If you’re new to the story, you should know that Grace and Ben are connected telepathically.  Ben is the earthly realm form of the demi-god Orpheus.  He’s narrating.

—————————————————————–

I was walking down a corridor in Craigie Hall when a stab of pain crashed into my head.  I staggered into the wall, and grabbed for support.

A girl rushed over to me, “Are you okay?”

I shook my head, gasping, and she guided me to a bench.  I dropped my head between my knees.  “I’ll be okay.  It’s fine.”  The pain wasn’t mine, it was reverberating from Grace.  She didn’t know yet how to completely control her side of our connection.  Her calls to me were generally hesitant and gentle.  I had to be fully open to catch her tentative yearnings in my direction.  This time, her anguish exploded with her full power.  Without any guards up against it, she had blown me over with the image that was filling her head: a girl with brightly coloured hair, twisted into dreadlocks in the hallway of her school.

“Grace!”  I shouted back into her mind.

“Everything is okay, Ben,” she thought in reply.

“Who was that?” or what was that?  It was something from the Other Realm, that was clear enough, but what was it doing in Grace’s new school?  Had they followed her and sent something evil to attack her there?  It was supposed to be safe there!

“I don’t know.  What are you worried about, Ben?”

“Nothing,” I spit out. I needed help.  Grace needed help.  Right now.  I’ll talk to you later.”

I pushed into the men’s washroom.  Thankfully it was empty.  I spun into the Other Realm igniting the room with light as I vanished.  In the flashing glow, I didn’t notice that someone had pushed through the door.

“Mars!” I shouted into the Other Realm.  “Where are you!” 

Alexandros sauntered out from the foggy gloom.  “He’s busy.”

“What do you mean busy?  He’s needed.  Something is wrong in the Shuswap.  Grace is in trouble.”

Xandros nodded, pursing his lips.  “Ah yes.  We figured that would happen.”

“What do you mean?” I snarled at him, nostrils flaring.  “You knew?”

“Calm down.  This is exactly why you make such a terrible guardian.  You lose all sense when there’s danger.   You have to be cool and cautious when there’s trouble.  You can’t go all wild and hysterical.”  He shook his head at me.

“Well, I’m not a guardian anymore, am I?  Mars is.  And he’s missing!”

Xandros punched me, hard in the bicep. 

I raised my fist to return a shot, but his guard was up, and he caught it easily in his fist.  “You’re such an idiot,” he said, holding my fist tightly in his.  “Where do you think Mars is?”

“What?”  I loosened the tension in my arm, and he let my fist go.  “Is he at Grace’s school?”

Xandros rolled his eyes.  “He’s doing his job, O.  Now it’s time for you to leave Grace in our hands.  You go back to Earth and do your job.  Go back to your nest of musicians and make pretty melodies.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“He’s guarding her?”

He nodded.  “She’s in good hands.”

“Better than mine, you mean?”

He smirked.  “You said it, I didn’t.  Go on.  It’s under control.”

I studied his face.  He was an irritating, obnoxious ass, but he was reliable in a fight.  Between Mars and Alexandros, Grace was in better hands than she’d been when I was her guardian.  It just wasn’t easy to trust the girl I loved out of my sight, though.  Not when either of them would happily take her from me for themselves.

I nodded.  “All right then.  Thank you.”

I spun back into the washroom, narrowly missing landing with my foot in an unflushed toilet.  As I  stepped off the rim a voice greeted me.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell that’s about?”

I snapped my head to the speaker and sighed, “Hi, Paul.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Hello.  Don’t change the subject.”

“Is there a subject?”

“Well, apparently my best friend can vanish in flashes of light and reappear in toilets like some kind of janitorial Superman.  I’d say that’s a pretty interesting subject.”

I swallowed.  “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain…” I intoned in a hypnotic voice, “You didn’t see anything…”

“Bullshit,” he said conversationally.

“Paul.”

“We’ve been friends for what?  Four years?  We’ve been there for each other.  You help me out.  I help you out.  Never once did you ever mention that you had magical powers.”

“You believe in magical powers?  I could have sworn you were more sensible than that.  Do you believe in fairies, too?”

“Nope.  But I saw you come into this room.  When I opened the door, I saw that weird light.  You were glowing and then it…swallowed you.  You were no longer in the room.  I looked.  I even lifted up the lid on the damned toilet tank, Ben!  You were not here.  Then there’s another flash, and there you are, pulling your foot out of a toilet bowl like you were visiting the Ministry of Magic or something .  I know what I saw, bro.”  He crossed his arms across his chest and watched me.   His face showed confusion, irritation, and just a little bit of fear.  “You weren’t at the Ministry of Magic, were you?”

I sighed.  “I can’t explain, Paul.”

“Is it something to do with Grace?”

Wasn’t everything to do with Grace?  I took a deep breath.  “You have to trust me, Paul.  I can’t tell you anything about this.  It’s not safe for you to know anything.”

“So Ryan was right?  We are in danger around you?”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “I don’t know what the hell is going on here.  It makes no sense.  No one should be after me.  They’re still after Grace, that’s for certain.  You should be safe with me, but you might not be if you know everything.  Like who I am.”

He studied me, reading my eyes to see if I was lying to him.  “Who you are or what you are?”

I raised my hands is silent appeal.

Finally, he nodded, and unfolded his arms.  “We’re late for [ subject ] class.  Come on.”  He pushed open the door.

“Thanks.”

He nodded.  “We’ve been friends for four years, after all.  That’s got to be worth something.”

I smiled.  “It is.  I’ve never lied to you Paul.  I’m not starting now.”

“Good.”

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NaNoWriMo total for day 6: 589  words (November total: 9013)

 

The truth about history November 5, 2012

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Reading,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:03 am
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“A story can be new and yet tell about olden times.  The past comes into existence with the story…  Beginning at the moment when you gave it its name…it has existed forever.”

Michael Ende.  The Neverending Story (Large print edition, p. 305).

I’ve been reading The Neverending Story for the last few days.  I came across this quote today, and it struck me as being rather profound within the context of the historical fiction workshops I attended at SIWC.

The history described may be factual, but its interpretation is imagined.  Scenarios are created.  Some may have happened ‘sort of’ like the author imagined, or maybe not. However, once the reader has that account in his head, it becomes the story of the history.  It becomes the reader’s experience and it colours his/her understanding of history.

I was on London’s Tower Hill last spring, and saw a plaque commemorating the deaths of Balmerino and Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat.  They were real people who were beheaded for their involvement with Charles Stewart.  They died in 1746 and 1747, but I grieved them as if I’d known them when I saw that plaque.  I touched it and felt a pang of loss, because I’d met them in the pages of Diana Gabaldon’s books.  She’d made them real.

Were the real men anything like she portrayed them?  I don’t know.   She called forth a story, and it existed from olden times.

It’s rather daunting for anyone contemplating writing historical fiction.  We may be re-creating history.  What a trust!

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NaNoWriMo report for Day 5: 1698 words   (Total: 8424)

 

Why do NaNoWriMo? November 4, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:03 am
Tags: , , ,

From Kevin Wilson, the author of The Family Fang and Tunneling to the Center of the Earth:

You are embarking upon a month-long incantation that might, possibly, produce magic.

And that is what everyone wants, something magical and transformative. Everyone wants to write a novel that succeeds in all the ways we want a story to succeed. And I doubt there is any pep talk that could enumerate the great things that can come from this endeavor in a way that equals what you’ve already considered. So, instead, I offer something that might be less pleasing now, but hopefully gains power in the immediate aftermath of this month. Regardless of the words that fill those pages, whatever story you choose to tell, the great discovery of this month will be the stack of pages that bears the words that did not exist a mere month before. You will possess the evidence of time spent at your computer, unspooling the narrative in your head. You will have hard evidence, and this will always grant you conviction.

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NaNoWriMo word count day 4: 2481    (Total 6836)