WACKY WEDNESDAY is traveling....

I'm guest blogging (I know! In the middle of NaNoWrimo!) WACKY WEDNESDAY today at www.calisarhose.wordpress.com 

Stop by my good author friend's site and read another reason why you're normal and I'm not. Sharing another episode off my personal reality show, this time on the "feast of foul" better known as Thanksgiving dinner. I've yet to pull off the perfect "Martha Steward Thanksgiving Feast," but I'll be darned if I don't get to try again this year!  Come share a giggle, and leave me your suggestion on how to get the grease spots from Thanksgiving pasts out of my rug. Later.

By the way...ended last night with a wordcount of 14,842 (yea!)

NANOWRIMO - Day 8

Tonight's listen:  "Princess of China" by my fav, Coldplay with the vocal help of Rihanna

DAY 8??? Where the hell did I disappear to? I'm going to use the excuse that an alien ship landed, scooping up all the beautiful and sexy people, and I didn't get a chance to say "goodbye" to you. You buying it? No? Why not? Because I'm still here. Either I was rejected or ejected, or I lied. I hate rejection, so I confess to the latter.

Actually, I don't know what's happened the last four days. Perhaps the New Moon is causing havoc, but my brain is mush, and I haven't hit the midway point yet. I'm already "slumped." My story is all over the place. It's like writing a patchwork quilt. And "potty mouth" vanished! My heroine, Zoe, walks into class where she shares a table with the obnoxious Mr. Callahan, and he's gone. Even I don't know why. Hopefully, in one of the other patches I'm writing, the mystery will be solved.

I'm back at it tonight, after spending the past few days in various stages of life happenings. My husband looks at me with puppy dog eyes, wanting company to watch a movie; my kids drop in to visit (hoping I'm fixing something to eat); Dad calls to chat; I grace the doors of my church, hoping the ceiling will stay intact (uh-hum, it's been a while); and then there's the day job that pays the bills. 

Word count was soaring at one point, showing me crossing the 50,000 word finish line in record time, but now hovers at the bench mark to barely squeak by on the 30th. Last count was this morning was 13,052. Let's hope something sparks tonight! I need another 2,000 to keep me on track. Later...but I promise, not "4 days later."

NANOWRIMO - Day 4

Current listen:  "You Are" by Jason Castro

This is why I banked word count earlier in the week. Tonight, I went to an outdoor concert at the breathtaking Tuachan outdoor amphitheater. It poured, yet the band played for the full two hours. I sat on a blanket, had one over my legs, wore my wool coat on over two sweaters, a beanie on my head, Harley Davidson ear muffs, and a scarf wrapped around my nose and neck. I resembled a drowned cat by the time we got to the car. The group we went with then suggested Dairy Queen for sundaes. It's 42 degrees and they wanted ice cream. Of course we went. Hot fudge counts as something warm, right?

Consequently, with a busy day at work and no lunch hour, I only managed an extra 1,581 words. I'm up to 9,429 total.

Chapter 3 today. Grace's mother comes to life in this chapter and as I wrote her frustration and the guilt she shoulders for not being there to protect her daughter the night of the murder, I thought about all the things I did and would do, to keep my kids safe. I don't think our children truly understand the depth of our love for them until they have children of their own. They don't appreciate the sacrifices made on their behalf or realize that giving up our own life to save theirs isn't something said in a heated moment. It is a code parents live by, with the exception of the years from thirteen to eighteen. No guarantees there. 

The pieces of the murder are coming together nicely. I want to build the suspense slowly by sprinkling bits and pieces of that night into the present lie my heroine is forced to live. Tonight, her mother laments over not being able to use Grace's real name anymore, even in their private life.  The name meant something special, having passed on for several generations, but useless now. Here's her mother's explanation why Grace's name is so important.

"Your name is Grace. Grace Emilia Harrison, after your two grandmothers. We were so excited when you were born a girl, so we could safeguard their names and pass them on through you. Both names have been passed down to the firstborn daughters for seven generations and now--" a sob stole her breath, "--and now they're dead. Just like you're supposed to be. 'Grace Emilia Harrison' can never exist again, and it breaks my heart."

Heading for bed. Tomorrow is my "write in" day where that's all I'm dedicating myself to. Well, that and a cup of coffee. Probably chocolate, too. Later "gators."