Happy Halloween!

And a blessed Samhain, too! This spooktacular Monday Morning Musing is coming to you from my comfy reading chair in my office. I've got my cauldron coffee mug beside me with a steaming hot cup o' Joe, and there's swing music playing softly in the background. I've got all of the elements in place to write a completely fantastic musing!

...and my brain is fuzzing out on me. There's way too much bouncing around in my head to grab onto something to muse on. How about a wee recap of a recent adventure, then?

On October 22nd, Kyle and I attended the Cleveland Witches Ball held at the Ohio City Masonic Temple. All pictures from this night are dark and grainy because the venue itself was dark and grainy. The Witches Ball was themed "Danse Macabre" and we were surrounded by both witches and skeletons! The dress was strictly formal, so I was able to dance with a tuxedo-clad Kyle, who was simultaneously rocking some hecka sexy smoky eyeliner. I was in my gigantic black tulle skirt that is filled with glitter, so I left a sparkly trail everywhere I went around the temple, which ended up being quite far, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The music was unorthodox in that it was nearly impossible to dance to. "What's a ball without dancing?" you may be asking. Indeed. We realized early into the night that if we were going to have fun, we were going to have to go rogue. I stuffed as many packages of mini Gobstoppers as I could find down my shirt (for emergencies) and we stormed the vacant dance floor, determined to dance to whatever music they sent our way. This resulted in slow dancing to many songs that probably shouldn't have been slow danced to, while I pulled a constant supply of sugar from my cleavage. We managed that for about an hour until we finally just gave up in search of something else interesting to do.

So, we explored the Masonic Temple. If we found an unlocked door we went into it, which in hindsight, is how people get killed in horror movies, but it paid off. We found the Grand Ballroom and proceeded to dance there, alone, in the dark. If we weren't trespassing and asking to get stabbed and stuffed in a well, it would have been very romantic. I had also run out of Gobstoppers by this point, so that was a bummer.

Eventually we met the owner, who was interestingly NOT a Freemason, and I asked him for an official tour because, you know, I'm a writer and I love a good story to feed my own stories. He was very happy to oblige and gave me a card to contact him to set that up, so I look forward to that adventure in the future.

That's all I've got this morning! I'm off to go refill my long-empty coffee cauldron and enjoy this frightfully glorious Halloween by putting Thriller on the record player and reading some Poe. Eat something sweet for me!

Gods and pumpkins

Happy First of Halloween September! Today is the day when all reservations about celebrating "too early" go out the window and I throw open the doors and windows to everything gloriously fall!

As mentioned in my previous post, today is also the day I began writing my novel. The working title is Headstone--catchy, right?--because editors and publishers change those sorts of things anyway, so as long as I give it a crappy name, I won't be butthurt when someone comes behind me and changes it. So from here out, when I say Headstone, you know I mean the novel about Elizabeth. Maybe something better will come to me down the road, but for now, I'm focusing on the important stuff, like, actually writing the book.

The first day of writing went well, but after so much build-up, I expected things to run somewhat smoothly. My experience with NaNoWriMo is that the first week is always the easiest, but the second week is when the real trouble starts. For now, I'm just taking things one day at a time. My goal is 500 words a day, which looks like a tiny amount compared to NaNo's 1667, but my motivation makes all the difference. NaNo was something silly to do to pass the time, to be a part of a world-wide community of people doing the same thing at the same time, suffering all of the same trials and tribulations. This novel, though, is meant to be something bigger. I actually hope to do something with this once all of the words are written and for that reason, I want to make sure I'm taking my time and paying close attention to what I am writing.

My designated writing time is as early in the morning as I can make it, before anything else happens with my day. If that fails, my new writing time will be later at night when everyone has gone to sleep. I am naturally a night owl who has been parading as a morning lark for a year or so, but I know that if I'm struggling in the morning to get my words written, the night will welcome me with open arms.

Stephen King, possibly one of the world's most famous Pantsers, wrote in his memoir/writing book, On Writing, that all of his books start with a question. Keeping that question in mind, he writes a novel that answers it. What happens if? What will a woman do if? What if? I'm doing something similar out of the gate, answering the question "Why is Elizabeth Markham buried in Southgate Park?" I will likely be moving towards a more structured outline as ideas start to solidify, but for now, I'm relying on my notes about her life and my imagination to get this rolling. I'm looking at 500 words a day, approximately 100,000 words in the novel, which means just under 7 months of work. I can take a few months off before having a whole year to revise and edit before shopping the book around. I will be fully astonished if everything actually goes according to that plan, but at least I have one, and that's a solid step in the right direction.

Speaking of my highly-active imagination, after months of nothing, just as I'm gearing up to start writing Headstone, my brain decided to throw several new ideas at me. Granted, they're ideas that started out as actual real life scenarios (like the time I stalked the Egyptian god Osiris into the parking lot of an IHOP) but in order to make them more than just interesting campfire stories, I need to put a writer's spin on them. To make matters worse, these ideas are coming to me with destinations. "I bet this literary magazine would LOVE your story about Osiris!" and "That new romance-y literary journal would probably enjoy the story about how you met Kyle." These destinations both have due dates, which means in order to get the short stories written in time, I will need to work on those alongside working on Headstone. There's just not that much time in the day, but I do want to continue putting short stories out while I'm writing the longer novel. I'm just going to have to find a way to make time, or at least manage the time I have available better.

With all of this technical talk out of the way, my day went well. The fresh carrot juice this morning was a nice way to start the day, but back home, I kept the coffee flowing. My secret Starbucks connection had given me the heads up that Pumpkin Spice Lattes would be back today, although they wouldn't be advertised for another week, so at lunchtime, Kyle and I took a break and picked up our annual PSL. It was like getting a high-five from fall.

I invite you to join me as I blog through the process of writing a novel, as well as continuing to live a creative life, be a mother, wife, and student, as well as keep my sanity. What little I had to begin with, anyway. There are some great things coming up over the next few months, including a writer's retreat in the woods, OcPOEber, and a heck of a lot of hiking, baking, and pumpkins. I'm off to write more about Osiris, but I leave you in the able hands of my favorite god, Vincent Price.

Welcome Fall!

This Monday Morning Musing is coming to you from inside of this fantastic reading nook in my living room. All of this fall finery is a sure sign that we have waved goodbye to summer and are ready to bring on the pumpkins. Last night was our annual "Fall Changeover." All of the decor that stays up in our house from March to August has been lovingly packed away (eh, we threw it in totes and tossed them into the darkest corner of the basement, honestly) and all of those gorgeous shades of orange and creams have exploded across our house. I love it. Some people believe the "holiday season" starts with Thanksgiving, but in our house, it starts with the first day of school and goes straight on to New Year's Day.

Ah, speaking of school, my daughters started back up last week. I am proud to say that everything went smoothly, which makes it almost a non-topic to muse over, but this is a kind of exciting situation for me. I'm back to having large chunks of time alone in the house, which is going to do wonders for my writing. Even if Kyle or the girls are perfectly quiet, I struggle to get creative work done while they're in the house. I'm not entirely sure what that blockage is, but I know it's mine, and it's absurd, so I'm hoping that having this time alone will be what I need to get some momentum going with my writing to help me carry it forward into the times when they are here (and are perfectly quiet.) As an introvert, alone time is essential to my well-being, and I'm excited to see what creative things happen when I'm fully charged.

I've been working on a short story over the last week that is about a mermaid working as a bartender in a seaside town called Port Starboard. It was intended to be funny, an opportunity for me to inject some humor into my writing, but as writing is prone to do, it has taken on a life of its own. My lighthearted story has turned into a serious commentary on what we give up to live our dreams. I loved the silliness of the name Port Starboard, but it has sort of morphed into the metaphorical fork in the road. Left or right? Which way do you go? Which life do you choose? As writers, we're wise to let our characters speak for themselves rather than try to bend them to our idea of who they should be.  But dang, I was hoping to write something humorous for a change. Nothing is wasted with writers, so I'm jotting down notes on what I would be writing if the story was going my way, and maybe one of these days I'll go back and rewrite it in a way that makes people laugh rather than stare off into the distance, pondering the complexities of life. In the meantime, I'm just going to do my job and keep writing down what the voices in my head whisper to me and see where this one goes.

My coffee cup is empty once again, which means it's time for me to get moving with my day. This time next week I'll be back in class myself, so I'm taking this opportunity to just drink in the quiet until it's time to hit the ground running again. Yoga, meditation, good books, and good food are all in my near future and it feels heavenly. Welcome back, Fall. I missed you.

Monday Morning Musings

I had every intention of jumping into my day feet first. There's laundry to be done, and Monday is the day I thoroughly clean the living room and entrance way, so there is a lot of work I should be doing. However, Kyle made coffee this morning before he left for work in Cleveland and was very sweet to put some in a Thermos for me when I woke up. Honestly, I had every intention of starting the day productively, but then I opened the Thermos to pour my first cup of the day and realized he put cinnamon in the coffee when he brewed it. Instant burst of Fall Zen, right in my face. Every bit of work that needed done got pushed back because nothing was more important in that moment than lighting candles, curling up in my chair with a blanket, and savoring that coffee. While I sip, I figure it's a good time to get started on my new weekly blog feature, Monday Morning Musing, where I write about what's going through my head and my heart every, you guessed it, Monday morning.

Yesterday was an interesting day for me because it was the first time in months that I've been free to be nothing more than a Stay-At-Home-Mom. So, I put on a podcast (Magic Lessons) and cleaned the house. We've had a really busy week and, while it seems like we weren't here enough to make a mess, we managed to find the time to make a fairly epic mess. With Sunday being a day of no obligations, I just slipped back into my old role in the house and gave it the "Mom Clean." Once I had all of that taken care of, I baked a cake for Sundae Sunday (a bit of a misnomer, but Dessert Sunday isn't as fun to say) that I had been craving for weeks.

That beast is a strawberry cake with lemon frosting, coated in Fruity Pebbles cereal. I was inspired to make it after seeing a strawberry shortcake cake (You know, like the ice cream bars?) and thinking "I can do that." So I did, with my own crunchy twist.

After the apron came off later in the evening, I took stock of what I was feeling. It was definitely peace. There may be a line of women forming to slap me when I say this, but I feel that my place is in our home, taking care of my family. This is not to say that I believe this is where all women should be--I am a feminist; women belong where they want to belong--but in my case, this is true. I feel my best when I can look around my home, and at the lovely people and animals I share it with, and see that everything is taken care of. I missed this so much over these few months of going back to school.

Between this moment of bliss and being two weeks from starting my first serious novel, I'm very happy to have made the decision to cut back on my classes this semester. Rather than take a full course load, I chose to take American History (to 1865), American Literature (to 1877), and Ocean Studies. The first two classes will be a fantastic help in writing my novel, and the last is one of the first classes that caught my attention when planning my schedule. I promised myself I'd take it at the first available opportunity and that is now. My mermaid alter-ego would be highly upset with me if I didn't.

Speaking on the novel, I swore I'd start writing it on September 1st, and that's what I'll do, but I won't pretend I'm not completely terrified. I am very scared about embarking on this adventure, but I trust it's going to be good. The very fact that I'm afraid is exactly why I need to do this. I've always said that fear is like a built-in compass pointing you where you need to be going.* "If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough," said some smart person at some point. I've written novels before, but never seriously. NaNoWriMo has always been something I've done for fun, with no intention of ever editing or publishing what I write during that time. It's about the spirit, the community, and just seeing what crazy things can come out of my brain when let off its leash. To know that I'm writing this novel for keeps is more than a little intimidating. I've contemplated trying to keep the mentality that I'm just doing this for me and no one else, but that's cheating. I'm trying to put something out into the world, and I don't want to skip out on that part of the experience just because it's uncomfortable. But September 1st, 2016, I'm on the hook for this one. By September 1st, 2018, I want this novel written, revised, edited, and ready to hand over to the people who will take it on the next step of its journey. That's two years I am committing myself to this novel and to Mrs. Elizabeth Markham, whose story has been lost to history until I write her a new one. That, my dears, is not a small feat.

My coffee mug is empty, which means I should probably get started with my day. All things considered, my fall is beginning to take shape. I'm feeling that deep tranquility that comes from being where you're meant to be, even if it's difficult or less-than-glamorous. I have so much to look forward to during the remainder of 2016 and I'm happy to be back on my own path.






*Unless your fear is pointing you towards bears. Then your fear becomes something we like to call "a healthy will to live." You should probably listen closely to that and back away slowly.