Shop With Care

I hope all my US readers had a fun and relaxing Thanksgiving! Chad and I celebrated by going to the local Turkey Trot with some new friends from our new-to-us church (that makes it sound like a secondhand church, doesn't it?) and running five miles, something we hadn't done in months. Today we are sore but feel great. Afterwards, we came back and cooked our dinner slowly over the course of the afternoon, finally eating at about 6 PM, except for our sweet potato fries, which we grazed on while cooking so they were gone when it was time to eat. A good time was had by all.

So in this part of the world it's the start of the Christmas shopping season, and already tales of people being stupid are floating around Twitter. I'm starting to think the retailers can't possibly be making enough money to justify opening early, having all their staff working all day, risking losing a lot of staff after the frenzy, never to mention breakages, thefts, and general havoc wreaked in the store. How is Black Friday possibly profitable? (BTW, if I'm participating, I call it Red Friday. I have a feeling it's the same for a lot of people.)

It's not used, it's vintage!

So, today's green-living, wallet-friendly, sanity-saving tip is this: Don't go out and buy a ton of new stuff for everyone you know. Buy some new stuff, sure. But for other gifts, consider looking in secondhand stores or on ebay. If you have small kids, do a toy swap with other friends. Sign up for your local Freecycle and keep an eye on the emails. Remember that previously-used (and loved!) items come with their own history and you can mix your stories with the other stories that the new-to-you gift already has. And on a practical side, also remember that new-to-you things can frequently be cleaned up to look new.

Do you shop on Black Friday? Do you do any secondhand shopping for Christmas/birthdays/etc.? Was it a normal Thursday for you yesterday?

First Date

This is my final short story for my creative writing class. It's kind of long, but I could't find a good place to split it. Enjoy!

            Dustin’s heart pounded as if he’d already run ten miles. He tried taking deep breaths to settle down. Should he breathe into a bag? Was that for times like this? He shook his head. He was more likely to throw up into the bag than breathe into it, anyway. He’d barely eaten any lunch, but that handful of french fries was looking for revenge.

            Every day after school, he and Shanna ran in the park across the street from their houses. She was on the cross-country team and this was her off-season training. Her parents had been nervous about her running alone, so she had asked him to come along and her parents had no objections. They had known him since birth, after all.

            The days were short now. It didn’t get dark until after they finished running, but the late-afternoon sun was more in the business of casting shadows than making things brighter. Dustin thought the sun had a split personality—six months of happy and six months of cranky.

            Even telling himself lame jokes wasn’t working, because his stomach was still churning and he had goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold. He hadn’t intended to fall in love with Shanna. She was his childhood friend, a known Tinker Toy thief and an expert at Chutes and Ladders. But she also shared her M&Ms—she sorted them by color and let him choose which ones he wanted first. It had been their game for as long as either of them could remember, a tradition they kept long after she returned his Tinker Toys and Chutes and Ladders gathered dust in her closet. And now he wanted more than her green M&Ms.

            Shanna dashed up from across the street, sending the butterflies in his stomach into a fresh frenzy. She smiled at him and he got warm all over. She was much better than the sun.

 “Hey, Dustin! Thanks for waiting,” she said. “My running clothes were buried in my laundry and it took me a while to find them.” She raked her hair back from her face with her fingers and wrapped a rubber band around it, leaving hair sticking out in all directions. “Ready?”

            “Yeah.”

            Shanna took off. It was a three-mile loop around the lake and she always took the first mile too fast. They could talk during the second mile, after she slowed down. Today he hung back, going over his plan again. Once they finished running, he would ask her to go ice skating. The outdoor rink opened this weekend and he thought it would be perfect: Shanna loved skating but had an awful sense of balance. She always had to hold onto someone to stay upright, and this weekend, Dustin would be that someone.

            “What are you doing back there?” Shanna called over her shoulder.

            “Huh?”

            “Why are you still behind me?”

            He came up level with her. “I can’t keep up. You’re a speed demon.”

            Shanna rolled her eyes. “Right. After all the meets I ran, I have one third-place ribbon. And that was the time everybody else had the flu. I’m only faster than turtles and slugs.”

            Dustin was in safe territory when they were teasing each other. “Probably other things, too,” he pointed out. “Snails. Possoms. Babies.”

“Gosh, that really makes me feel better,” Shanna said. “Hey, Dustin, do you have any tutoring time available this week? I think my algebra teacher is just making things up now.”

“Sure,” Dustin said. More time with Shanna? Yes, please. “I have some time tonight.”

“Can’t,” Shanna said. “I have plans. What about tomorrow morning before school?”

            “Yeah, that works for me. Your kitchen or mine?”

            “Yours. It’s a date. I’ll bring Pop-Tarts.”

Dustin’s stomach twisted around itself. Did she say date? Did she mean it?

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked, hoping he sounded normal.

“I’m watching a movie with Brad.”

Dustin tripped and staggered a few steps. Shanna slowed down.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he muttered, trying to hide his red face. “Can we stop so I can tie my shoe?”

“Sure.” Shanna stopped and pulled a tissue out of her pocket.

Dustin re-tied both shoes. Shanna with Brad? His whole world had just flipped upside down. Since when did she hang out with that guy? Dustin and Shanna had been in the same circle of friends since kindergarden and Brad was not part of the gang.

Shanna blowing her nose brought him back to reality. She may have a gorgeous smile, shiny hair, and lots of green M&Ms, but she blew her nose like everybody else. He hoped she wouldn’t do that on Saturday—he wasn’t sure how he felt about holding a snotty hand. Although Shanna’s snotty hand was probably better than anyone else’s.

He stood up in time to see her stuff the damp tissue back into the rear pocket of her pants. Did she see him looking at her backside? Maybe he should run behind her again for a while. No, too obvious.

            They started off again and Dustin’s legs protested.

            “Ow!”

            “What?”

            “My legs. I think I stopped for too long. So, what movie are you watching with Brad?” He tried to sound like a friend, not a stalker.

            “Much Ado About Nothing. Have you seen it? It’s one of my favorite Shakespeares.”

            “Shakespeare? Since when is Brad interested in Shakespeare? He can’t even spell Shakespeare,” Dustin said. He needed to remember Much Ado About Nothing for later. Never mind. This crushing avalanche of jealousy would probably remind him for a while.

            “He needs me to translate it from English to idiot for him so he doesn’t flunk a test. He was standing around in the hall the other day when I needed to carry some drama club stuff upstairs. I could only get him to help me if I promised to do him a favor.”

            Shanna promised a favor to Brad? This girl needed a security detail. “Why didn’t you just ask me if you needed help?” Dustin asked.

            Shanna shrugged. “You weren’t there and he was.”

            Dustin wondered how awkward it would be to follow her around so she didn’t have to ask any other guys for help ever again. And especially not Brad.

            Frightened squirrels ran away ahead of them as they ran, scattering leaves that would probably be covered with snow by morning. Dustin hadn’t been interested in running until two months ago, but he could see why Shanna loved it so much. He just hoped she didn’t want to start training for a marathon anytime soon.

            “So, Dustin, I have a question,” Shanna said. His heart leaped. Was it a good question?

            “What?” He tried to sound calm.

            “Do you think we’ll be able to go on running together? Like, after Christmas? Once baseball starts? It’s just that running with you feels really safe. Like I don’t have to worry about what you’re thinking, you know? It’s like running with my best friend.”

            A surge of joy hit every one of Dustin’s nerve endings at once. “Yeah, that would be great. I mean, I’ll have to ask Coach first. But he wants us to be in shape, you know? It should be okay.” Shanna was always talking about a runner’s high, and Dustin thought the sudden energy he was enjoying right now was pretty close. Except it didn’t come from running.

            The end of the loop was coming up. “Race you to the finish!” Shanna shouted. She liked to sprint out the final quarter mile. Sometimes Dustin tried to beat her to the line they had spray-painted in the dirt, but today he stayed level with her and they crossed at exactly the same time.

            Shanna bent double to get her breath, while Dustin walked around in circles to keep his muscles from cramping up even more. And to enjoy the view while it lasted.

            She stood up and grinned at him. “How do you feel? Are your legs still sore?”

            “Nah, I’m good,” he said. It was true; his nervousness was almost gone, and he didn’t care about his legs. Now was the time to ask her, before he changed his mind.

            But she was already talking. “I gotta get some homework done before Brad comes over. See you in the morning?”

            “Yeah. Hey, Shanna, I was wondering…” He hesitated.

            “What?” she asked, still smiling. Her face was red and sweat-streaked and her hair was a mess, but her smile was perfect. An unexpected wave of terror crashed down on Dustin and he forced the words out.

            “You know the ice skating rink is opening this weekend? I think just about everybody will be there, so I was wondering if you’d like to go.”

            “Oh, great idea!” Shanna exclaimed.

            Relief and joy flooded through Dustin. “Really?”

            “Yeah, I’ve been wanting them to open it for weeks. I was thinking the other day that it’s been too long since the last time we all went out together. I’m so glad you were thinking the same thing. Everybody is always so busy.”

            Wait. “What?”

            “So I guess you’ve talked to everybody else already, then? Okay, I’m in.”

            “No, I meant—”  

            “Do you know what time it opens?”

            “What? Oh, uh, one, I think.” Dang, this conversation was going the wrong way. Dustin wasn’t sure how to clear it up without sounding like a moron.

            “I’ll check the website when I get home and send everybody an email so we can decide where to meet up.”

            “That’s not exactly…” he hestitated.

            “Oh, I’m sorry. You should send the email. It was your idea.”

            “Oh, no. No, it’s fine.” Dustin gave up. Whatever he had said wrong, he wasn’t going to act pathetic. “Go ahead and send it, I don’t mind.”

            “Cool. I’ll bring the M&Ms.” She smiled, and his whole body tingled again. “We can all grab some hot cocoa or something afterwards. It’ll be fun. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

             Dustin watched her jog across the street, up the steps, and through her door. He turned back toward the trail and started running again. Shanna always said that running helped her think better, or at least made her tired enough to go to sleep.

            He was going to find out if it worked.

Heard at University. Kinda.

Apparently all posting schedule and theme days has gone to the winds. Ce la vie, especially during November.

So here's another "Su is a walking disaster" story that I know you all enjoy so much. It all starts with my rhetoric teacher, hereafter known as Caffeinated by virtue of saying at the beginning of every class, "I'm really excited, but that may be the three cups of coffee talking." In case you're wondering, yes, I have written him into my NaNoWriMo novel.

This is the sort of thing that really
adds to camaraderie and
embarrassment in the classroom.
Source.

So I really like his class, but the work is a bit time-consuming. The other night I was chatting with a classmate on Twitter at about 11:30 PM and she said that her rhetoric homework took her about an hour. I was not excited about the news that I was going to be up late, so I said back, "Oh, good, because I've been looking for a reason to be as caffeinated as (insert Caffeinated's real name here)."

Now before you freak out, I do have a pair of filters that I run everything through before I put it on the internet. The first, and most important, is: Would I be okay with my friends' kids seeing this? Number two only applies in situations like this one, and it's: Would I say this if (insert name) were in the room? Since Caffeinated has a sense of humour and, more importantly, occasionally tweets about class himself, this remark passed both filters.

Next morning, I walked into class, fresh cup of tea in hand, and was greeted by a grinning Caffeinated who asked, "Are you highly caffeinated enough this morning, Wilcox?" Heh. I was about 10% embarrassed and all the rest amused. Well, another 10% chuffed that he read my tweet, since we don't follow one another on Twitter. I'm not real clear on how he found it, actually, but I didn't ask for details. Also, I can't remember the last time someone called me by my last name only. This guy is writing me a recommendation for grad school, so I guess I should tone down the cheekyness to below normal levels. (Unlikely.)

So after class I sent a message to my classmate, who missed all the excitement, and she said, "Sounds like I missed a good class, then." Yep.

Do you ever have any Twitter crossovers into real life? Any real-life people in your NaNoWriMo novel? How much caffeine have you had today?

We Remember

I think I'll dispense with my usual practise of reciting In Flander's Fields for you, partly because everyone else is doing it. And if you'd like to read it, Delores has a lovely post for Remembrance Day with that and other poems that you should go have a look at.

Source.

I admit to being a bit put off by all the fuss over it being 11/11/11; while that's exciting and all, I'd rather focus on the day of remembrance that happens every year at this time. There's a solemnity to Veterans Day, as there should be, as we consider what all veterans, those who came home and those who did not, had to sacrifice. And the sacrifice their families made, too.

Blessings upon you on this day of remembrance.

Oh, Dear

So I'm behind on NaNoWriMo (that didn't take long!) and I'm having trouble writing a statement of purpose for grad school. However, I am miraculously caught up on my homework, so I should probably make a note on my calendar.

This is just sad.

I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of word count widgets on the NaNoWriMo site, but now that I'm behind I think I'll just skulk off. There aren't any yet, anyway.

So, my general topics of interest for rhetorical research are (in no particular order): controversies over YA literature, public debate in the U.S., environmental issues, and transportation issues. I'm hoping to talk to an instructor ASAP about these to see if they qualify as viable interests from which I could draw out a dissertation topic in a few years' time.

In the meantime, happy novelling!

How is your NaNoWriMo going? Do you have a PhD? Should I find a happy place with no grad school in it?

Breakdown

Four days into NaNoWriMo and I'm already neglecting you all! That's mostly because I didn't get my posts auto-scheduled last weekend as intended. Maybe this weekend, if I'm very very lucky, but I'm going to the Austin Celtic Festival most of the weekend so my chances of that kind of luck are looking pretty slim.

This is what I'm like... I'm the one
looking the wrong way because
I want to make sure all the other
chicks are doing it right. Source.

So today's tip isn't necessarily green, but I'm also into general healthiness, and I think that's what this falls into. But first, some backstory! I have this tendency to approach the whole universe like I'm its older sister. One of these days I hope to grow out of it, and start leaving the universe alone to do whatever it wants to do without me bossing it around. (I'm not really that bossy. I'm the older sister who offers you a tissue and says "there, there" and only bosses you if you ask my opinion.)

And the other downside is that I tend to take on other people's stress and worries. Specifically, this week, it's some of my coworkers at the Writing Center. We've hit the stressful point of the semester, plus the onset of cold season. And when you add to that the normal "what do I do with my life" and the hormonal garbage that comes with being in your early 20s, my coworkers are carrying around a lot of stress. (Yes, a lot of it is self-inflicted. That doesn't make me feel any less sorry for them.) And I absorb that anxiety off of them and add it to my own.

So, coming back round to the point, my tip this week is partly adopted from Sleeping Naked is Green and partly my own experience: Search for healthy, uplifting ways to deal with your stress.

Maybe you need a cup of tea. Maybe you'll go for a walk. Maybe you'll read a book or watch a funny movie. Maybe you just need a nap (easier said than done, I know). For me, it's been NaNoWriMo... I've been inflicting my own stress upon my characters, which frees me from carrying it around. Works great.

What do you do when the world gets to be too much? Should I write you into my novel?

Youve Painted a Quite Picture

I should start a regular post about my spam comments. Really, we all should. I get some serious entertainment in my spam filter.

Perhaps brinkka2011 should
ponder this. Source.

So, this one came from someone called brinkka2011 who, a casual Google search tells me, gets around the blogosphere and sneaks past some spam filters to leave ridiculous comments all over the freaking place. This particular comment was on my post about it being my 1000th post. If he (or she) is looking for cheap publicity, well, here it is! His (or her) statements are in red; my hypothetical replies are in blue.

How is it that just anyone can publish a blog and get as popular as this? I know, it's a scandal. What can I say? I bribe my readers! Its not like youve said anything incredibly impressive more like youve painted a quite picture through an issue that you know nothing about! Funny, my rhetoric teachers say the same thing. Well, sort of. They say it with better spelling, correct punctuation, and fewer adverbs. Although I did write about my own blog in this instance, so I'm confident no one knows this issue as well as I do. I dont want to sound mean, right here. Oh, don't you? You're doing it wrong. But do you genuinely think that you can get away with adding some quite pictures and not truly say something? Yes. Yes, I do.


And now if you'll all excuse me, I'm off to figure out what a 'quite picture' is.


Anybody else get good spam comments? Should we have a spam comment blogfest wherein we all make fun of our spammers? I bet you all would come up with some brilliant stuff to answer back.

Libraries, Amazon, Goodreads...

I'm still in the throes of trying to get homework, grad school applications, and my proposal for undergrad research next semester all done before next Tuesday hits and NaNoWriMo commences. Oh, and pre-scheduling some blog posts, so you don't all think I died. (Although, if I pre-schedule... never mind, let's not go down that garden path.)

So! Today's green tip is meant to be in keeping with the book theme I have going this week (like that's different from any other week): Make sure to get as much use out of your books as possible.

No, I'm not going to say to never buy new physical books, even though I know that technically, that's a darned green thing to do. But as we booklovers all know, to give that kind of advice is to dance on the edge between "taking care of the earth" and "enjoying my time on earth". If I didn't buy books that I love, I would be depriving myself of one of the great joys in my life and I'm not going to do that.

So, what do I mean, then? Well, try before you buy. Borrow a book from the library before deciding to buy it, and if you love it and you know you want to have it available to read over and over, then absolutely, go buy it.

Next, try to buy secondhand. Look on Amazon, Ebay, or one of the dozens of secondhand booksellers online. Better World Books donates some of their profits to literacy programs, as well as donating actual books. Plus, they send the best "your order has been shipped" emails that I've ever read. Seriously, order a book from them just to get the email. You won't regret it-- unless you buy a book that you didn't really want. You might regret that. Also in good-karma-land: Chegg donates to education programmes and they plant a tree for every book they sell or rent.

At the risk of entering the realm of broken records, e-books save paper, shipping, and for most titles, some of the sticker price.

If you get a book that you thought you would want to keep forever but it turns out it wasn't meant to be between the two of you, find it a new home. Swap with friends (either in person or virtually), post it on one of the aforementioned sites, donate to a local library... you get the idea. Old textbooks or books that you can't unload get a bit tricky... here in Austin, we have Recycled Reads that actually recycles books that they can't sell (and anything they do sell benefits the local library system). I turned to my good friends at Earth911 for a solution, and they do have a search page where you can find book recycling near you.

And finally, I can't leave this subject without a strong plug for local secondhand bookshops. Every place I've lived, I've been a frequent customer and donater to a secondhand bookshop. They have mixed results if you're looking for something in particular, but I've found just going round every couple of weeks and browsing yields some really nice fruit. Good place to bring the books that no longer fit on my shelves, too. And, if you get a really good one, where you can get to know the owners, they just might take note of your reading preferences and keep something back for you if a book they think you'll like comes in. No guarantees... but it has happened.

What do you do with old books? Any good secondhand bookstore stories (those are the best, imo!)?

NaBloWriMo

You know, I'm crazy enough for filling up my schedule like a nutty person. Why I thought I should throw my hat in the ring for NaBloWriMo I'll never know.

Anyway, I wandered over for a prompt (I'm saving the rest of my book festival posts for when I have a bit more coherence), and found: 1. Who is your favourite author? or 2. What is your favourite book? or 3. Do you find yourself talking like the characters in the book you just read?

Hey, look. C.S. Lewis and Elinor M.
Brent-Dyer, hanging out on my
shelf. (They were contemporaries,
after all.)

1. I don't have a favourite. I like most authors that I read. BUT, according to Goodreads, here are my most-read authors: Terry Pratchett, Elinor M. Brent-Dyer, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and in a 3-way tie for 4th place: J.K Rowling, Beverly Cleary, and C.S. Lewis. Sounds about right.

2. At this moment, my favourite is probably Spindle's End, by Robin McKinley. Love love love that book. My perpetual, life-long favourite? Well, favourites, actually, because it's the Little House series. Little House on the Prairie was the first 'real' book that I read and I've been a fan ever since.

3. Always. Chad can usually guess what book I've been reading by the way I talk. It's ridiculous. What's even worse is that I think the way the characters talk x 25-- it's no wonder I talk that way, really.

What about you? Same questions!

Nefarious Plot

Our UT NaNoWriMo group had a plotting party tonight, with lots of people in attendance. Yay! Not much plotting was done, I'm afraid, but we did have a good time talking about our novels and deciding on write-ins. And finding out what sort of things we have in common.

I may be the only one of the group not writing a fantasy novel. (I'm writing a school story.)

Are you a Wrimo? Let's be friends! (Once the Writing Buddies are activated, that is. Using the word 'activated' makes me feel like we are writing Power Rangers. Ooh, maybe we are. Get your Zords!) I'm cheekysu, the one from Austin. Chad was kind enough to find another cheekysu on the NaNo site the other day, so I know there are at least two of us.

Not a Wrimo? Well, okay, but most of what I post for the next month probably isn't going to make a lot of sense.

Okay, well, I already asked one question. How about: What is your genre? Favourite writing music? Will you bring me a cookie?

Texas Book Festival: The Late American Novel

I chose this particular lecture because my Creative Writing teacher was one of the speakers. And I'm so glad that I did, because it turned out to be an informative and thought-provoking session. Jeff Martin and C. Max Magee compiled 25 short essays about the future of books, basically getting the spectrum of people who have a good grasp (or so it seems) on the future of books right across to my creative writing instructor, who readily admitted in class on Friday and at the festival on Saturday that she has no idea what is coming next.

This picture is the artist's attempt to
build an e-reader from stuff laying
around his house. Source.

Mr. Martin began with the story of the lectors in the cigar factories in Tampa (I think?) during the '20s and '30s, who would read to the workers as they rolled cigars. The point he wanted to make was that the cigar workers didn't care what the lectors were reading, so long as they were receiving the content and the entertainment thus provided. His larger point was that it will be the same with e-readers-- as long as we get the content, we won't care about the delivery system.

Now after reading about this very issue across the blogosphere and even starting the conversation a bit here, I know that many readers do not feel this way. You don't get the same texture and smell that a paper book has on a Kindle. It just doesn't engage the senses in the same way. Having said that, it's hard to argue with having a ton of free classics that I got from Amazon via their free PC app. So I do agree to some extent that it's the content that I really want, but I also kinda want the book as a thing. He also quoted a recent study that found that 1 in 6 Americans either have an e-reader or plan to purchase one in the next 12 months. I don't know anything else about the study, including how loosely they define an e-reader (would I count, since I read books on my PC?), but if they're anywhere near close... that's huge.

As to books that will never be digitized: Children's picture books, especially the ones with things to feel and move. You can't get that on a Kindle, either. Coffee table books. And here's one for my YA writerly friends: the YA market is currently keeping the physical book market afloat. In other words, keep writing!

I don't really want to ask an e-book question, since I just asked one the other day. So: when's the last time you read aloud to someone? Or had someone read aloud to you?

Texas Book Festival: Juan Williams

So I've decided that the easiest way to cover the book festival in all its glory (which I fully intend on doing, so if you hate books or festivals, now is a good time to take a vacation from Cheekyness) is to start at the beginning and write about each talk or panel in order. Here goes.

Mr. Williams' latest book.

When I saw Juan Williams on the list, I was delighted. I read his book a couple of months ago and promptly decided that he is about as close to a voice of reason as we have on political TV in America today. He's a champion of civil rights, freedom of speech, and honest debate-- all of which are sorely needed now as much as they have ever been. You can read Mr. Williams' story that led to his latest book at the Wikipedia page.

Some of the takeaway points: We can't have a healthy national debate when the slightest dissent leads to people, and politicians in particular, being labeled RINOs or DINOs (Republican or Democrat In Name Only). This isn't limited to one side; both parties do it to their own. Unfortunately, this leads to a niche landscape, which is where we are now, with everyone locked into boxes. Mr. Williams said, "We need the freedom to debate and the freedom to be wrong." (In case you pay even less attention to politics than I do: Politicians aren't allowed to change their minds about things, for fear of attack, even if their previous position is wrong/untenable/really embarrassing/whatever. It's really dumb, IMO.)

A nice moment: During the Q&A, one participant noted how guests with opposing viewpoints will appear on those news analysis shows and all talk over each other (think Crossfire), and asked, "Do the producers think this is good TV?" Mr. Williams laughed and said, "No." He then went on to elaborate, but I was too busy applauding along with everyone else to write it down. But hey, "no" sums it up pretty nicely!

Have you read this book? Do you have an opinion on debate in the US? If you're not from the US... how is your weather?

Texas Book Festival

... day 1. I definitely got multiple posts' worth of stories from the first day at the book festival, so I'll start with the easy ones. (Don't worry; I took notes! I won't forget too much!) We went to a Pitchapalooza session with the intent to watch and learn-- Chad doesn't have anything book-length planned at the moment, and I don't have anything worth pitching, except an idea that I want to give some life to before pitching it around.

So we listened as one stellar idea after another came out. I don't remember them all, but one guy is telling his uncle's (really interesting) life story; one was a historical fiction involving a cache of guns somewhere in Texas; one was a boxing noir story set in Austin; a couple more historical fictions, a couple of middle grades, and one racy romance, and a handful of YAs. The eventual winner's story is about a boy who doesn't communicate well with others, so he draws pictures as his connection to other people.

Most of what the panel said to help people improve was stuff I've read on various author blogs already, so I don't have anything new to report. However, it was insanely helpful to hear other people giving pitches. Also, they all looked so calm. I would have been shaking so hard that my hair would have been vibrating. People would have thought I had a mysterious tremor in my scalp.

One notable moment: The moderator, wanting to call on someone to come pitch, pointed at a skinny guy with long hair and a beard and said, "Jesus!" I think I laughed for five minutes. The guy looked embarrassed.

And the sweetest moment of the day: A 13-year-old young woman pitched her book about a girl whose sister is kidnapped. The girl gets a text from her sister in the middle of first period, but the sister is gone by the time she gets home. So, the girl sets out to rescue her sister. The pitch was actually crazy-good (much, much better than my recap) and the panel didn't have much to critique. One of them asked, "Do you have the book written?" And she said, "It was written, but it caught fire. I live in Bastrop." Yeah, you'd better believe that a groan went across the audience. Such a gut-punch moment. In case you missed it, the wildfires across Texas a few weeks ago were mainly concentrated around Bastrop. Lots of houses are gone. And so is one young writer's WIP.

However, she didn't say it like she wanted us to feel sorry for her. And as one member of the panel said, "Sounds like you have another book to write." I don't know if having to completely re-write her MS will help the editing process, but I hope she re-writes it. I hope it gets published. I want to read it.

More to come! In the meantime: Have you ever been to a book festival? Have you ever been to something like Pitchapalooza? Don't you want to come visit me now that you know we have stuff like this?

The Future is Today!

So today's green living tip is a little bit cheating and a lot born out of my frustration with having to tear down half a forest all by myself just to get through a couple years of school. And it is:

I still like this, too, but I'm a bit
stingy with it. Source.

Do as much as you can electronically.

I love the instructors who ask for homework electronically. I even more love instructors who assign books that are available as e-books so I don't have to pay for shipping. I am so enamoured with people who don't require me to print things.

This is not an anti-book or anti-paper post, btw, but just a reminder that services like Google Docs and email attachments and Kindle for PC might save you a bit of cash on paper and ink while also keeping trees in the ground. And I'm all in favour of that, because I live in Austin and think any part of the city without shade is doing it wrong.

Are you a teacher who assigns (at least some) homework electronically? Do you avoid printing things? Should I go around Austin in the dead of night planting trees?

A Car That Goes-- Creative Writing #2

I wrote this little story the day after I took a car2go home and missed my exit. One 'cultural' note: UT's colours are orange and white, so the people wearing orange are college students.

***

Source.

            A little blue-and-white smart car, illuminated by street lights, zooms through Austin.

            This particular car had its beginnings in a factory in Europe, a land where streets are narrow and all cars are small. It boarded a boat to cross an ocean, bound for a place where streets are wide and some trucks merit their own zip codes. Cars do not usually think, and this car was at the beginning just as naïve as any other. And for the sake of its mechulinity, that was probably just as well. The not-so-smart car might have developed an inferiority complex once it got a look at Austin vehicles, since it could have fit inside some of them with plenty of room left over to pick up some groceries.

            Any hopes the car might have had of finding a nice home with a young couple and a pretty garage were dashed when it was accessorized with all sorts of fancy locational devices and then released to the care of the general public. At least it would never get lost, although if it had been looking forward to quiet drives in the park or occasional time to itself, those plans were on permanent hiatus. The car now served at the pleasure of the hip and trendy.

            Some days the car carried serious people in suits. The car noticed that they were hooked up to electronics all the time, much like itself. Perhaps they also were prone to getting lost. They never had any interesting messages on their phones for the car to read, and to judge by the local paper (and the car did not), they never gave anyone else anything interesting to read, either. They did a lot of shouting about words that sounded like ‘duck’, ‘shell’, and ‘dam’. The car certainly had cause to admire their concern for aquatic life.

            Then there were people who wore a lot of orange and carried heavy backpacks which were also orange. The car had no measuring devices, but it had a hunch that the backpacks weighed almost as much as the people carrying them. One day one of them got in and the car amused itself by reading her texts while she punched numbers on the GPS and muttered something about “go, cod”. She zoomed off as if she had seen the green flag and ignored the GPS until just after she missed her stop. And then she started yelling about ducks. Once the car delivered her to her destination, she stormed off and left the door unlocked. The car had to send a call downtown for help to get its doors locked, so it had plenty of time to ponder Austin citizens’ remarkable awareness of the plight of smaller animals.

            Sometimes grey-headed people would drive the car as though they wanted to make sure it had time to take in all the sights of Austin. They said things like “Oh, my” whenever a stoplight turned yellow, but did not seem to be interested in ducks. They did not shout, although other people often shouted at them.

            The car was unaware at first that it had started thinking. Little things, like passengers leaving him in the sunlight or dropping their trash on his  floorboards, started to annoy him. He tried sending polite messages via the GPS system, like “Please refrain from driving as if you were at Indianapolis,” or “The next passenger does not wish to sit in a seat covered in McDonald’s grease”. No one ever paid attention when he tried to speak to them. Sometimes they laughed and talked about the programmers having some fun with this car. So he went for a more passive-aggressive approach, like switching between his automatic and manual transmissions mid-trip, to alert passengers that they were displeasing him. He also noticed, after a while, that he was never in the vicinity of water when people started yelling about ducks. Considering how little regard his passengers had for his own well-being, he suspected that they were not as enamored with marine wildlife as he had once believed. He puzzled over this for a while, then gave it up as one of the great quirks of humanity.

             And his passenger this night is really confusing him. The kid stumbled up to the car a few minutes ago as if he had tripped over something. It took him two tries to scan his card and punch in his code. He smells fruity, but not in a good way, like the time someone left a bunch of grapes under the seat for a week.

            The car doesn’t like this passenger. He’s using every stunt in his arsenal to irritate the kid enough to take his orange-shirted self elsewhere—he even turns himself off at stoplights—but the kid responds by screaming about ships, pounding the steering wheel, and driving faster. The car gives up trying to reason with this kid and sends out a distress signal in case someone is watching who can call for help.

            The kid speeds up again and swerves around a truck in front of him. The car feels a strange sensation: gasoline burning faster than usual. He is confused: What is this kid doing? He enjoys the rush, and that adds to his bewilderment. Is he supposed to go this fast? There is nothing he can do but wait for help, so he decides that if the kid is going to drive like one of the Andrettis, he may as well have fun while it lasts.

            The lights on the freeway come at him like a rope of white. Other vehicles beep and honk as the kid swerves, speeds up, slows down for a second, then whips around. The car enjoys the rush of gasoline and the pulse of the road beneath his tires. It is every car’s dream to go to Indianapolis, but this feeling is a good substitute.

            High-pitched wails come up behind them. Blue and red lights stab through the darkness. The young man screams again and speeds up. I called the police, the car thinks. That was dumb. This is really fun.

            But the kid doesn’t stop for the blue and red lights. The swerving and zooming continue. What had been a game for the car now frightens him. I’m going to fast, he thought. He tastes his oil burning. Gasoline spurts through his system, making him whine. “I’m going too fast!!” he says through the GPS. But the kid doesn’t look down.

            The car is terrified. He is doing over 80 now, faster than he is supposed to be able to go. The kid takes a flyover. Is he trying to get away? the car wonders. “I have a GPS! They can track me!” the car shouts. The kid still doesn’t notice that the car is talking to him.

            His tires skid on the road as the kid takes the first bend too fast. They swerve, recover, speed up again. His lights illuminate a second bend up ahead, and the car sees what will happen: He will crash through the guardrail, his tires will lose contact with the road, and he will fly off into open air. There is nothing he can do to stop it, because for all his newfound consciousness, he is still not in control. He sends a final message through his oily tears, an instant before the impact will render him forever mute:

            “Duck.”

Ways to Feel Like Dirt, #84

On Thursday evening, I rented a car2go to go home, missed my exit off the freeway, and took much longer than necessary getting home.

On Friday afternoon, our writing prompt in class was "Describe the life history of a thing." I decided to write about a car2go and came up with a cutesy, somewhat funny tale of a little car in Austin, who misunderstands swear words (e.g., 'duck', 'shell', 'cod', 'slick'... you get the picture) and therefore thinks that Austinites have a thing for aquatic life.

On Saturday, I did a massive amount of editing and more or less rewrote the whole thing. I threw in a few IndyCar references because I'm from Indianapolis and that's what I think of when I think of fast driving. And then I gave it a sad ending (think Hamlet) with a dash of dark humour.

I'm sure dozens of cartoonists will
draw a checkered flag welcoming
Mr. Wheldon at the Pearly Gates.
So I thought I'd avoid the rush.
You'll dominate Heaven's go-cart
circuit, Dan. Source.

On Sunday I logged on to Twitter when I got home from church to read that there had been an accident at the IndyCar race in Las Vegas. I watched the video of the worst crash I've seen in 33 years of watching auto racing. And I sat on my couch in tears as drivers filed out of their meeting, all of them in tears, and the head of IndyCar announced that Dan Wheldon had just crossed his finish line.

And then I still had to do edits on my story. It's too late to rewrite; it's due today. I'm sticking with the storyline, dark humour, IndyCar references, and all, but I feel like an insensitive jerk. It happens from time to time, that writers write things that are within the realm of possibility, and then those things happen. (How much did it suck to be the writer on The West Wing who wrote the episode with Leo's (John Spencer) heart attack, when 18 months later John Spencer died of a heart attack?) It still feels wrong, though, and I'm torn between hoping that I someday can write without having this feeling, and hoping that I retain enough sensitivity to always have this feeling. Either way, I need to be able to work through it.

And that's why I'm still doing edits on the same story.

Anyone ever have a similar experience? Want to share thoughts race yesterday? Just looking for a good place to be sad?

Words That Changed My Life: I Can Only Imagine

Yesterday I wrote a slightly (ahem) cheeky post about what heaven must be like on a Saturday morning. So, let me follow that up with some real thoughts on heaven.

Source.

I first heard the song "I Can Only Imagine" early in 2003, and I remember that because it was permanently seared on my memory a few months later. You see, I managed to contract a blood clot two years into taking birth control pills. (In case you were wondering about that 2% of women who manage to get blood clots... I'm one of them. The warning label on the box is talking about people like me.) And since I had no idea of what having a blood clot felt like, I walked around for a week thinking I had somehow damaged the muscle. Finally, it hurt too much and I went to the doctor, who booked me into the hospital so fast the revolving door spun for five minutes behind me.

On our way to the hospital, Chad and I had the radio on in the car and "I Can Only Imagine" was playing. This is going to sound weird, but I wasn't so much worried about a blood clot killing me as I was worried about Chad being left behind without me. This song brought comfort to us both that day. And I'm happy to report that I'm not a ghost, and am in fact alive and well to this day. Although I do have to wear nasty compression hose, which are from Satan.

I can only imagine what it will be like, when I walk by Your side.
I can only imagine, what my eyes will see, when Your Face is before me.
I can only imagine. I can only imagine.

Surrounded by Your Glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you, Jesus? Or in awe of You be still?
Will I stand in Your presence, or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing 'Hallelujah!'? Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine! I can only imagine!

Not so bad, really. Lyrics from lyricsmode.

Do you have a song/poem/thought that gets you through the tough times?

The Hours

This post has nothing to do with the movie of the same name. Although it was an incredible movie, if memory serves.

So I was walking along yesterday, thinking about how I was going to have to get up at an ungodly hour on a Saturday so I could get some research done at UT's collection of old things. (By the time you read this, I'll have been hard at work for a few hours.) (Really hard at work, not what usually passes for 'hard at work' around here.)

This is what heavenly beings drink
out of, yes? Source.

Presumably, God is awake at 7 AM on a Saturday morning, but perhaps he's only just awake and still on his first cup of coffee. After all, he has to stay up late on Friday night and save a lot of people from themselves. Friday night must be a busy night in Heaven, what with all the guardian angels having to report back about their respective humans doing really stupid things, again.


So there's probably a lot of stumbling around in heaven on a Saturday morning. Angels in their bathrobes, trailing the belt behind them because it came untied, lining up at the coffeepot. The angels who have sensible, non-going-out humans are all bouncing around in a good mood, watching the cartoons and annoying the I-was-up-too-late crowd. Angels in the administrative department are fielding requests for power outages, cold snaps, or beer shortages to happen the following Friday evening so celestial beings can get a decent night's sleep.

And meanwhile, God is watching over everything and thinking about striking with lightning anyone who dares mention an ungodly hour.

Were you up at an ungodly hour today? Yesterday? Tomorrow?

Hot Water

This week's green living tip is one I got from reading sleeping naked is green, by Vanessa Farquharson. One of her green changes was to only boil the exact amount of water she needed. So a couple of weeks ago I decided to try it.

This is what my kettle looks
like when it's not in use. And
when it is in use, too.

Upside: I don't have to measure boiling-hot water to make my oatmeal any longer. After I pour out the water for my tea, the water left in the pot is the exact amount needed for oatmeal.

Downside: All my tea mugs are different sizes, so I don't know how much is the right amount from one day to the next.

Verdict: I am, once again, skeptical about whether or not this really makes a difference. I suppose it uses more electricity to boil water that I don't use, so by only boiling the correct amount I am saving a little bit of energy. Either way, the upside alone is enough to keep me doing it, because anything that prevents me from burning my fingers on a daily basis is good. And this is one of those easy-to-make changes, since I measure the water anyway, and it doesn't add to the number of dishes I have to do. (If you're one of those people who must wash a measuring cup when it's only held water, I'm afraid there is no hope for you.)

Do you pre-measure water that you're going to boil? Do you wash out your measuring cups after every use? Do you think my kettle is really really cute?

Multi-Modality and Me

So I got home today and said to Chad, "The universe is telling me that I was not meant to drive. I wonder when I'll decide to listen".

Cars2go are actually blue and white.
But otherwise, they look like this.
Source.

Why? Well, I was up late with two papers yesterday, and decided that if there was a car2go (the local carsharing scheme) in our neighbourhood when I was ready to leave, I was going to take it. Lo and behold, there was one, so I jumped in and drove to school. (I haven't driven to school in years!) Unfortunately, when I parked it, I got an error message that the car couldn't connect to the network so I should park somewhere else. Since I was already running late for class, I called customer service and got them to lock the car so I could go to class.

And then I decided to take a car2go home, too, because I was in a hurry after work. We have an airbnb guest coming tomorrow, and our apartment desperately needed to be cleaned. So I'm driving along, thinking to myself how much I love having all these options for transportation: car, bike, bus, foot... and then I miss my exit off the freeway. The GPS in the cars2go doesn't announce turns, but you also aren't meant to be distracted by it, either, so I hadn't looked down to see that my exit was coming. Le sigh.

I still got home faster than I would have done by taking the bus. My apartment has been cleaned. And tomorrow I'm taking my usual bus/bike combination, because it's a very efficient way of getting around. I love being multi-modal, but I think the 'driving' mode may not be my thing.

Is there something the universe wants you to stop doing? Do you ever go multi-modal?