Establishing Patterns: finishing one routine and beginning another

5
Nov

Habits and routines are not my favorite things. Morning coffee is an exception to that, as well as finding my car keys. Other than those things, I have to work purposefully to establish routines to accomplish different goals — although, come to think of it, late evening snacking seems to come pretty easily. <– see! that’s the thing about habits and routines. If you’re not careful, you’re creating a pattern you didn’t even mean to create and you’d better hope it’s a good one because breaking it once you’ve made it? Well that’s almost as hard as making a new one.

Fall is a time when it becomes easier for me to turn over a new leaf when it comes to habits. School starts and we have all the best intentions of making our lunches the evening before, hanging up our coats and putting away our bags, exercising right away when we arrive home, you know the drill.

This fall, however, it’s been a little different because we’re in the process (the looooong process) of redoing our lower level. The amount of brain power and time it’s taking has really surprised me. That in addition to some different commitments for the kids and my aspirations of establishing certain good habits has been waylaid.

However, I’ve only misplaced my keys once and yesterday was the first time I drove away from the house without my purse. So I say we’re breaking even.

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One thing I did stick with this fall was a challenge from Get Messy to create something every day from Sept 9 to Oct 27. It wasn’t always pretty and not all my pages feel complete, but the energy was there and I showed up to the page for 48 days. Some of the pages I was quite proud of, some felt more like backgrounds that I should return to later, others were plain or ugly. But they exist because I put paint on the page.

In the middle of that, I took a risk and registered for my first writing class at The Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. The Loft is well known for being a hub of literary activity and they offer workships and classes for all different genres and levels.

Here’s the view walking up the main stairs to my classroom:

The class I took was for children’s fiction. It was every Thursday at 6p for six weeks. People, that’s a big commitment for a busy family. It took me 25 minutes on a good day just to get parked and yes, I was the student who rolled in a few minutes late to every single class. But I showed up, and discovered that I knew more than I realized I did. And I prioritized an investment in myself in the midst of a busy life season, which felt really good even if it was inconceninet. Sometimes those are the things that show us where our passion really is.

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The next crazy habit I’m trying to is take up National Novel Writing Month this November. It’s called NaNoWriMo or NaNo for short.

You’ve probably heard of this madness. Every day of November you try to write. The standard prefab goal is to write 1000/day for 50,000 words in the month to “win” NaNo. But you can set a goal of whatever kind suits you. And their website will help you track your progress, give you achievement awards and peptalks from lots of authors.

This is a pretty natural melding of the two above scenarios of the writing class and the season of habit. There’s something magical about making the commitment to show up, even just showing up for yourself, if that makes sense. The willingness to put your own interests into the mix, placing your own interests into the collective pool of worthy activities? That can feel like an act of rebellion, especially, dare I say? for women and particularly for moms. (Don’t worry, Guys, I see you too. But this is a moment for the ladies.)

Showing up to the page

So I’m gonna try to make a sh***y first draft, as Anne Lamont would tell me to do. I’m gonna put my butt in a chair and write. It may not be good (let’s just say it, I’ll be happy if it’s mostly coherent). Heck, it doesn’t have to be good. It just has to be out of my head and on the page. Only then do we have something to work with. Up to that point it’s all theoretical.

I hope to give some periodic updates here so if you’d like to hear some of the story, be sure to stop back or subscribe to make it even easier for you.

Your turn! What kinds of habits are you cultivating or working towards right now? What time of year is easiest for you to start fresh? And what’s stopping you from prioritizing your own interests or dreams right now?

Oops! I almost forgot to share the flip thru of my most recent handmade journal, the one for the Season of Habit. The upload is giving me the business, so I’ll include the link below, and until later, thanks so much for reading.

Dreams, wishes, hopes delayed, or just a reality check: my first writing conference

27
Jul

This was my first writer’s conference. I knew going in that it would be a good learning experience, that it would show me more of the inner workings of the publishing/writing world.

Day one: trying to look legit

A month prior, I had attended a writer’s group that focused on conferences and how to prepare for them. I learned about a “one sheet”, something I had never read anything about in all the research and reading I had done to learn about publishing. I had been advised about being prepared and being open, making space to absorb information and experiences. I’d been encouraged to keep a weather-eye out for those who might be having a difficult time and do what I could to befriend folks in that situation.

This might come as news, but I can be both an extrovert AND an introvert. When I lean towards introversion, it’s not a discomfort with people, but it’s more of going into observation mode. There are times when something in me shifts into being quieter and more of an observer than a contributing participant, though I’m still actively participating. I try to listen well and I find it profoundly interesting to observe people as they express themselves.

I relegated that to the background and put on my most extroverted hat. I welcomed others to join circles I stood in, walked with a stranger to a workshop, asked another woman to join me at a session, and basically wanted to I’ve myself an award for being Miss Congeniality…but I might only qualify for the before-makeover rather than the after-makeover:

The biggest thing was that I had an opportunity to have a ten minute meeting with an agent.

This sounds like a huge development but it’s not so much. Anyone could pay a little more and get one of these meetings, so it wasn’t based on merit or anything. That’s not to say it wasn’t a great opportunity, and I wanted to make the most of it.

This particular agent had visited the writer’s group after the conference last year, and I bought her book which was all about agents: the whole process of getting an agent, what they do, the editing process, everything. Last year she was quite engaging and approachable, and she works at a big name agency in Christian publishing, so I thought I’d give it a go.

[A word about Christian publishing: I’m not totally convinced this is the place for me, except that because of my background, I can’t help but have Christianity inform my writing. I mean, I guess I could help it, but I choose to let it co-mingle with my writing. However, the traditional conservative evangelical Christianity that’s going around is not something I’m comfortable with. {Full disclosure: I have not left our church even though it would totally fit this description.} We can talk more about that another time, but I must tell you this was a step back into a world I once inhabited with no qualms. Now I’ve got serious qualms of all sorts. It was really interesting.]

Back to the meeting.

Second day outfit. Yes that’s a teal, magenta, and grey cheetah print tunic you’re seeing.

It was short.

She was lovely.

She said the idea behind my Kettle River Meal Swap manuscript is interesting and she liked it.

She is not accepting any first-time authors at this time.

In a lot of ways, this ought to be encouraging. She didn’t say the idea was junk or that my one-sheet was a mess of errors or my writing was misguided. She may have just been being kind but she didn’t shut me down that way.

Is that good or bad?

It’s both.

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Writing is such a self-motivated thing.

Nobody external cares whether you write or not. And that’s not some way of asking for people to tell me it matters. It’s truly okay. It’s a reality. It’s an internal drive that pushes you to want to write, to make space for that. And it can make you less than a competent judge of your own work and the open or closed doors you encounter.

Was this meeting a motivator to approach other agents to see if they A. are a good fit and B. would want to take me on as a client? Sure! After all, the agent I met with didn’t put the kabash on my novel, although she did say that it’s still a little too short at 73,000 words. That’s ok, I can beef that up. But there’s also the possibility that she was trying to let me down gently, that if my story idea or writing was so compelling that she would have picked me up regardless of the busyness of her last year when she launched two first time novelists, which would (I assume from what she implied) take a lot of energy and deal-working.

So how to know?

It’s back to what I want to pursue. Is having a traditionally published novel a goal and what am I willing to do to get there?

You always hear the rejection stories from people who did finally get their book published. They ignored the rejections or learned from them, and pressed on until they finally found a home for their work.

You hear that it usually takes years and years to make that happen.

What you don’t hear about is the loads of people who had to give up.

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Everyone who writes has to decide their definition of “success”. Is it success to take from within the concepts and ideas we’ve got, to write and express them? Is it success to be brave enough to put these out into the light, into the world in any form? Do those words need to be useful and ultimately uplifting, helpful to those who need to feel connection with someone else in the universe, or can they exist for their own sake rather than serving some higher purpose? Or is success only when those words are put into book form and distributed into the world for monetary gain?

See? It can go many different ways.

For now, I’m going to go back to the computer, back to the library, back to my bookshelf and do more research on other places that might be a good fit for my writing. Maybe that means entering contests, maybe that means putting my book away for a while and working on other writing, maybe that means letting go of it altogether. Time will offer a better perspective on this than I can get right now, so I’ll have to accommodate time’s passing.

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Can I ask you a question?

What would you like to see more of in this space? I’ve been typing away for a long time, and I want to be a value-added to your day. What would be useful to you? Do you come here for anything specific? Would you like a way to engage more? Do you find anything that sticks with you after you go away from reading here?

I want to make a difference, even if that means providing a breather in the midst of the frenetic pace of life. So tell me, what would be helpful for you?

I can’t wait to hear what you think!

Season of Story: meet our fuzzy main character

14
Jun

As I stated in a previous post, I want to finally complete a story that I’ve been puttering with for a few months…well, maybe longer than that if I trace it back to its origin. Anyhow, this Season of Story is the perfect moment to kickstart my story into becoming a real boy — er, cat. So I thought I’d introduce one of the main characters.

Two sizes, same kitty.

Does this character have a name? Not formally. She’s been Purple Kitty so far, but that’s cumbersome. So I reached out online and people had some really great suggestions. I’d love to hear if any of these grab you:

Ruthie

Plum

Luenda (submitted by a lovely little sweetie who is like 5 years old)

Thistle

Iris

Lavender

Maeve

Periwinkle (which could be a copyright problem (ha!) because of the old Blue’s Clue’s dog)

Jaspar

Peggy

Prince (hard to resist this one)

Molly

Violet

Callie (another submission by an adorable young friend)

Raisin

Lilly (which would end up as “Wiwwy” if pronounced by any young readers…which could be part of the fun?)

If you can believe it, this list is not even exhaustive! There were even more suggestions, which absolutely makes my day.

Because I know that in my own household, our animals rarely have just ONE name, I’ve decided to go with a very highfalutin name, one in the tradition of aristocrats around the world, one that includes basically all the names your parents either had to include or liked and couldn’t decide about. For our rough draft, I think we should go with this name but I reserve the right to revisit this decision later:

Prince Ruthie Raisin Callie Olivia Violet Luenda Iris Periwinkle

She’ll go by Ruthie Raisin or Ruthie for short. And she might be a he. But either way the first name (or is it a title?) is Prince.

Now that we’ve met Ruthie Raisin, I need to go finish up the other main character, Jewel.

Jewel and Ruthie Raisin love the Fair, and the merry go round is one of their favorite rides. Jewel loves getting that crazy Fair Hair done, the kind where they put your hair in two big pigtail puffs like cotton candy and then spray it with color and glitter that stains your pillowcase and gets in your carpet for the rest of the summer.

Yeah, she loves that.

And of course that’s not even getting into all the yummy Fair foods, like mini donuts, buckets filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies that you then haul over to the milk barn for all-you-can-drink milk, before or after you find that one place at the Fair that has the footlong pronto pups. You come home sweaty, cranky, sticky, exhausted, and oh so happy.

But this year it might not be quite like that for Jewel. Some big changes are coming her way. So come back soon and I’ll introduce you to her and tell you more of her story. You could subscribe and then any new posts would come straight to your inbox. Wouldn’t that be handy?

Rollerskating, risks, and the season of Story

31
May

Once upon a time…

Did I tell you bout the time when…

You won’t believe what happened to me today…

These are all invitations into story.

Whether formal or conversational, they all extend a moment of connection — to us, to our experience, potentially to something on an even bigger scale. Even if someone relays a story written by someone else, it’s something that registered, landed, something they retained as significant, if only for it’s humor but possibly for the meaning behind it. When they share it, it’s an opportunity to learn more about someone, to know some of their history and their life.

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When my kids were little rascals (as opposed to the bigger rascals they are now) I started writing my first novel. It began as a story about rollerskating.

Yup. Rollerskating.

See, when I was in college the school organized rollerskating nights at the local rink. They were fantastic. There was pageantry as we donned out best Ragstock 1970’s rainbow suspenders and tube socks. There was romance — you felt like a junior higher again as the DJ announced it was time for the Snowball and you dreaded the wrong person might ask you to skate and were mortified if the right person did. There was drama under the disco ball lights…and in the snack line and in the bathroom.

My story morphed into a chapter, which morphed into a section, which morphed into a novel.

And all of it happened while my husband and I were teaching one child to stay in their crib, potty training another, and trying to make sure the third could identify the color green.

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Once I wrote the rollerskating novel, I realized there were more novels in me. I’ve written another, more than half of a third and have the beginning of a fourth (which I am not allowing myself to work on until the third is complete). Throughout the process of writing I have tried to learn about the business of publishing and what people do to pursue traditional publishing.

All that learning, all that writing, but very little risk-taking.

I’ve taken very few steps to pursue getting my novels out into the world. I’ve done a couple things, but was more like a turtle peeking its head out and then immediately pulling it back inside its shell.

I need to take more risks. I need to collect more rejections. I’ve registered for a writing conference and at that conference I’ve made an appointment with an agent. TERRIFYING but true. Nothing might come of it. But something might. Without taking that risk I will never know, so I’ll do it even if my hands shake and my heart races.

Did I mention that the next season of Get Messy Art Journal is the Season of Story?

The Season of Story — can you stand it??

It’s just perfect. And it comes at a perfect time in my own writing life.

I’ve felt like I need to exhaust more options before I can let go of this publishing dream. (You can read more about this revelation here.) I want to knock on more doors, make a few spreadsheets to keep track of where I’ve sent letters of inquiry (or query letters if you want to get all formal), basically really go for it.

This sounds crazy. I realize that.

But I want to know I did everything in my power to go after getting my writing published before I look at more “indie” options. Those are totally valid and pursuable options; I just want to cross off more traditional options first. So, I’m going to start doing that. Now.

There’s also been a story growing in me that’s quite different than the novels I’ve worked on. It’s a book intended for folks who have a child receive a diagnoses of Type 1 Diabetes. The story involves a purple stuffed animal kitty and a little girl who both love the Fair. Any resemblance to actual living people is not at all coincidental. I’ve got the characters down but I need to write the rest of the story. That will happen. Now.

During the next eight weeks, the Season of Story, I will share bits of the purple kitty story here on the blog. I hope to have illustrations to go along with it. Problem is, my cat drawing skills are less cat skills and more squirrel/spikeball/giraffe drawing skills. That’s okay though. You’ll know what I’m trying to do, right?

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I know you’ve heard me talk about Get Messy Art Journaling before, because it’s been such a fantastic place for me to connect and grow. This year I have the tremendous privilege of being on the Creative Team. Yahoo! Well, besides all that, I think I’ve forgotten to share an important piece of information, in case you wanted to know more about Get Messy Art Journaling. Here’s a quick summary:

They have tons of content, some of it for free, some of it for members only.
People can buy a membership for a whole year, for a month, or for a specific season. The Season of Story memberships are only available from June 1-7 so if you’re thinking about it, now’s the time to make your move. (Details here.) **
When you have a membership, you’ll be in for a mind-boggling amount of arty goodness (meaning tutorials, webinars, classes, forums, prompts and general inspiration).

It makes sense to share more details about Get Messy now because of the Season of Story (which launches tomorrow, by the way). I’m so super excited about the Season of Story because I feel like it dovetails so well with the world we’ve already created on this tclarson website. Of course there is absolutely zero pressure on you; I just know it’s been transformational for me, which is why I want to share it with you.

I hope to pop in more often, if only to hear you make fun of my attempt at drawing cats, but I have to admit Instagram is my favorite spot so let’s follow each other if we’re not already. Thanks for coming along on this creative journey.

**If you sign up using this link, I receive a small commission. YOU ARE NOT CHARGED EXTRA and it totally does not affect your purchase.

Writing, painting, and cramming everything into the last half of May

19
May

It’s a busy time of year, is it not? So much to do and the clock is ticking down the days until summer and the shift that comes along with the changing of seasons and schedules. There’s a feeling of immediacy, a flipped version of squirrels storing away nuts for winter. But it’s in the air and there’s an urgency to get things done.

Originally I called this post “Light a fire under my writing” but that sounded like I was going to set it on fire and burn it down, which is the exact opposite of what I mean, so I had to revise.

What I actually meant is that I’ve had a revelation: although I’ve been doing a lot of painting which has been my focus for a while now and which has been really great experience, I’m not done with writing. I had a moment of clarity, when the restriction of a more externally-dictated work schedule loomed and I almost wanted to cry with disappointment that I’d never accrued enough rejections or taken enough risks in pursuing more with my writing. That reaction really surprised me, and I think it revealed more of my passion.

Over the past few months, I feel like my words have returned after a long hiatus, and I want to pursue developing them, and getting them out into the world. That means submitting things to various publications and contests (scary), as well as trying to post here more often. In addition, I’ve registered to attend a local writing conference this summer where I have an appointment with someone from a literary agency (terrifying). I don’t know if it will lead anywhere, but I think I need to try.

I KNOW I need to try.

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That doesn’t mean I don’t plan to paint anymore. Not at all. I still love it; I totally enjoy the physical process, I love learning and trying different techniques, and I’ve found a wonderful online community through art journaling.

That’s a great segue to let you know there are a couple more weeks of the Get Messy season of play, and I thought I’d share a couple pics I’ve grabbed.

Dontcha just have certain color combos that make something ring inside you?

My playful superhero, spreading glitter and mischief wherever she goes. (She never gets it in the carpet though.)

This week I had a tutorial on the Get Messy website and I showed people how I made this. I used lots of stuff that wasn’t meant for paint or art. It’s surprising what you can do with the goodies in your junk drawer!

Page made using Legos, a cushioned mailing envelope, a leftover party napkin and lots more

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Because it’s been the season of play, it just felt right to put googley eyes on as many things as possible.

Oh there are more, but I’m holding back.

You’re welcome.

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On top of trying to make myself meet a specific word count, create meaningful and not entirely ugly art journal pages, stick googley eyes on everything without getting caught, and work at my work-from-home job, it’s the end of the school year. And as anybody with school-aged kids knows, this time of year is bonkers.

So here’s to trying to get all the things done, everybody! Let’s aspire to achieve all our dreams, even if some of them are delayed or if it will take a bit longer until we can put in the work to make them happen. And good luck getting to all the kids’ programs they’ve all got scheduled for the same week. Maybe if we all sign a petition they’ll quit doing that to us…but probably not.

Renewed Shenanigans

21
Feb

Since it’s a strange weathered-February, it seems right to finally do an update here. I haven’t been trying to maintain radio silence; I’ve been moving into an expanded role in a job that’s been developing on the side for a bit. It’s exciting and I’m now part owner of a small business, which shows you how little screening they do of these sorts of things.

That’s only part of it, and I could use your input with another part.

As you know, I’ve got a bee in my bonnet for creative experiences. Painting has been at the forefront for longer than I anticipated. My dad getting sick and then losing him made it virtually impossible to tap into the writing that I had identified with for so long. I’ve (mostly) accepted that.

[Shhh…I’ll tell you something extra true: there are moments when I wonder about lost-time or opportunities I might have missed. That’s my first impulse. Once I notice that impulse, I remind myself that’s coming from a place of scarcity and a place of worry that there are a finite number of opportunities available, a.k.a. if I don’t get one of these opportunities they’ll run out before my turn comes round again. I don’t have to accept that mentality, and I don’t. There’s more than enough to go around, for me and for you too.]

I’ve allowed myself to explore and develop other ways of expressing the roiling thoughts and feelings that have come in these years of wrestling. Paints, scribbling, ripping paper, smearing color – these have become a language without words.

Original mixed media art by TC Larson (that’s me!)

This is good; it’s good to have tools with which you approach the world. It gave me new ways to work through difficult situations and was useful then when, about six months after losing my dad, my daughter (I call her Princess Teacup here) was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.

The diagnoses is permanent and it has impacted, well, everything. It’s not that you don’t get used to it – you do. It’s that by necessity, it changes so much of the rhythm of your life.

Okay back to you, Dear Reader. You can see that I’m a little all over the place. I could really use your input.

Painting, writing, creativity.
Type 1 Diabetes
Family, friends, silliness, and motherhood.
Encouragement, faith, spirituality, crabby wrestling with the Church.

These are all things that flow through my life. Does it make you crazy to hear about ALL of them? Do you wish this space was more focused? Do you wish you knew you could come here and get a daily pep talk? Do you get tired of hearing about grief and loss? Would you like to read snippets of stories I’m working on, now that I’m writing again?

This is when I turn to you, Dear Reader, and I’d really value what you have to say. Speak freely now, friends. I want to hear it. Your input can help shape the direction I go. I plan revamp things in order to better make this space reflect some of the shifts that have happened, and hearing from you would really help me.

Even though it’s been a while, I want you to know I appreciate you and the opportunity (there’s that word again) to share here with you.

Now get outside and enjoy this bizarre February heat wave. We’re all suspicious of it and are pretty sure it can’t last. Remember, the high school winter sports finals haven’t happened yet, and that’s when we here in Minnesota almost always get hit with a blizzard (click here for proof!). Don’t put away those snow shovels yet.

Since I’m already being “that person” and asking for things, I’m just gonna go for all the bananas and put this here: Donate and support us at the JDRF One Walk Fundraiser.

Grit and Grace: Vulnerable stuff in the Phoenix Soul Magazine ‘Reborn’ Issue

15
Jan

You may not have noticed in my previous post, but I was really excited about something — think puppy-chasing-its-tail-in-a-dizzying-circle excited. I had to wait to tell you until now, but now I can share.

Wanna know what I was so excited about?

Do ya,

do ya,

do ya?

Okay, I’ll try to maintain my composure and be professional about this, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to maintain that façade so I’ll make this quick:

I got to contribute something to The Phoenix Soul Magazine. It’s an indie e-magazine with essays, poetry, artwork and a beautiful layout. The whole vibe is honest and real, seeking beauty in the midst of mess and looking for shining moments in the middle a storm. The curator, Amanda, has a beautiful spirit and is creating a really unique community of readers.

In this issue the theme is “Reborn” and my little bit is a piece of poetry (I read that with a Winnie-the-Pooh voice in my head), an art journal page to go with it, and one or two other short paragraphs. You can Click here to get your copy — and I think you’ll really enjoy it. You can buy single issues, like this one, or you can subscribe in larger chunks and get three or more copies as they are released.

Thank you for sharing in my excitement over this!

If you do get a copy, would you come back here and tell me what you think? Or you could share your thoughts over at the Facebook page?

It would be great if we could get more people to discover The Phoenix Soul so tell your pals to go get a subscription, and tell Amanda, the editor, that we love what she’s putting together (she’s on Facebook and Instagram)! And seriously, thanks again, everyone. Mwah!

Morning Walk

9
Dec

The thick air sits translucent blue on the ground.

The mud doesn’t know if it should thaw or freeze.

The gossip of the wind through the wings of migrating geese above metallic-covered lake,

Hundreds of rice patty cone hats strewn all over the grass, their little tufts punctuating the hillside,

The highway blows in the background, cautionary beeps warn of backing machinery.

Three white tailed deer sprint back into the trees, leaping, seeming to hang midair, though there is no fence here and no need to fly.

I pick up palm sized stones – three in my pocket so far – to remind me of something but I don’t yet know what.

I veer away from the naked bones of sumac and drag my fingers along the switchgrass that lines the path. When I round the bend my sleeve is wet.

A single-engine prop plane crosses overhead.

I stop to watch, waiting. Though I’m in the open field, the plane does not tip it’s wing at me,

So I know it isn’t you.

I hope when I get back and strip off my boots a pebble falls out of the left one to remind me of you.

Final NaNo Excerpt: A Long Distance Argument

26
Nov

I must concede NaNo this year. Yes, the same way I conceded last year. Don’t rub it in. There’s just no way for me to make up the difference in four days between where I am and 50,000. Not unless I totally cheat, which I’m trying not to do since it won’t really feel good to hit that 50k mark and know that it isn’t all new material generated during this month. Maybe I’m being a stickler but that’s how imma gonna do it. Then when I DO win, sometime in the future, I’ll know it was fair and square.

P.S. Why on earth do they organize this thing during the month of November? Why not a month with no national holidays, or some throw-away winter month when it’s way too awful outside to do anything so everyone’s holed up indoors? Maybe this is how they weed out the wanna-be’s from the truly committed. Well if I had made time to win, the rest of my life would have suffered so I had to let it go. It wasn’t easy, and there’s definitely a sense of losing rather than winning. But isn’t that a funny game I’m playing with myself? I don’t actually WIN something if I hit 50k. They don’t give out winning treasure boxes with trinkets inside, or anything more than a badge you can use on your website to say you “won.”

Even though I’m a loser (in the NaNo sense) I still want to put up a final excerpt from the WIP. This will be my last one for November, so I’m going to leave you with a scene between two characters who are trying to navigate a long distance friendship-with-potential…and finding it challenging. Have a wonderful evening, and as always, thanks for reading.

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Abby heard the phone ringing in her dorm room just as she stepped onto her floor. She ran down the hall, silently praying her roommate hadn’t been her normal vigilant self and locked the door again. She got into the room and snatched up the receiver on the clunky school-issued phone.

“Hello, hello?” she practically yelled.

“Whoa, hello to you too. That’s the angriest greeting I’ve ever heard. ”

She let her backpack slide to the floor and she pulled out the hard wooden chair from the desk. “Sorry, I just barely made it to answer the phone. I’m not mad.”

Jay chuckled on the other end of the line. “I know you’re not. Unless you are, but I think I’m starting to be able to pick up on that over the phone even. It’s easy to tell when we’re in person.”

“It is not.”

“Oh really? So you can see yourself when that vein puffs out on your forehead?”

“It does? I never knew that.”

“See? One more reason to keep me around: self discovery.”

Abby smiled into the phone. “Okay, I guess I’ll keep you. But I’m not even keeping you around ‘cause you’re never around.”

“This long distance thing is starting to get on my nerves, too,” he agreed. “Bur think of it as being the best of both worlds. You have a devoted admirer who is extremely understanding of your long study hours and the way you go out with your friends. If I was closer I might not be so easy to live with.”

“You do like to play more than I do. Well, not more,” she corrected herself, “But more than I’m able to play. This study load is heavy and I don’t even know exactly how well I’m doing.”

“You did great on your last test, didn’t you?”

“Sure but that was a pretty limited scope. I know how to study, but it’s different than knowing your overall grade.”

“You’re too picky. You think you should get 100% on all your tests, but Abby, nobody gets that.”

She picked up a pen and started doodling. “I know.”

“But you don’t really know. You still think you should be able to. Maybe you should talk to some of your professors and see what they say? Not about the grade on a test, but overall how you’re doing. They’ve got to be able to tell if someone’s cut out for nursing.”

She doodled a stethoscope and he waited.

“What would I do if I asked and they said I’m not cut out for it? I don’t know what I would do. It’s the only thing I’ve ever pictured myself doing. I don’t have a plan B.”

“You won’t need one. You’re the studyingest person I ever saw, and you’re definitely putting in the time. It was only a suggestion. You already know it’s what you want to do. If you talked to them, they’d probably just tell you to let up a little, go have some fun with that cute guy who keeps calling you.”

“Which one?” she quipped.

“Ouch.”

“I’m joking,” she said . “Youre the only cute one. The others are just muscle-y.”

“Not funny.”

“Although there was that one with the convertible. That was fun.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m coming down there.”

She smiled. “You can’t come down here. You’ve got to do your thing and I’ve got to do mine. Remember? That’s what we decided. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Don’t make this an issue, ‘cause things are good. We’re good. We’re friends, we date once in a while, that’s working for us, isn’t it?”

“Is it working for you?” Jay asked.

Abby paused, unsure how to — “I’m so busy, Jay. It’s so busy and there’s so much studying. It’s an unreal amount of studying. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it. And if you were here, it would just be another distraction. A good one,” she hurried to add, “But it would make me feel guilty and I hate feeling guilty.”

“Why would you feel guilty? I wouldn’t come if I didn’t want to.”

“I know, but I’d feel guilty that you’d come all this way only to be practically ignored. And you wouldn’t be happy here,” she continued. “You’d be wandering around waiting for me to get done with class, but when I get done with class, I go to the library or the lab or a study group. We wouldn’t see each other much more than we do now.”

“So we wait.”

“I think so,” she answered quietly.

There was a long pause on the line. Abby spoke up. “Jay?”

Pause.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for wanting to be here.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being my friend.”

“I love being friends with you, Windy Gail. But you want to know something?”

“What?”

Jay steeled himself. “When the time is finally right, I don’t want us to be friends anymore.”

Abby felt the blood drain from her head. “What do you mean? You don’t want to be friends. There’s an expiration date on being friends?”

“Nope, that’s not what I mean.”

Even though she could barely hear the sound coming from the phone anymore, her ears were ringing so much, she had to ask. “What do you mean?”

“I think we’d be even better friends if we were more than friends.”

“Jay, I can’t even think about that right now…”

He stopped her. “I know. And like I said, I love being friends. That’s good enough for now. But that won’t always be good enough. I think we’re made for more than being just friends. And I’m willing to wait it out to see what that looks like.”

She felt her voice get stuck behind her teeth and couldn’t will it loose.

“Are you still there?” he asked after a long minute.

“Yeah. But Jay? Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“What?” he demanded.

“See? You’re already getting mad. Just listen for a second.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s just that I don’t want you hanging on for something that may or may not happen.”

He asked slowly, “What do you mean?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can be what you want me to be.”

“I don’t want you to be anything you’re not.”

“Maybe you do.”

Jay huffed into the phone. “Listen, I haven’t asked for anything from you. I don’t expect you to call me, which is good because you don’t. I don’t expect you to come home any more than you do to see your family, I don’t expect to get any extra time at Christmas. I haven’t asked for anything from you. How can you say that?”

“I feel it.”

“You feel it?” he virtually shouted into the phone. “You feel it? Since when did you become all feely? You’ve hardly ever said anything about how you feel before.”

“I’m trying something new,” she shot back.

“You could have tried it before we’re having this conversation.”

“What conversation is that? The one where you tell me what my life is going to look like, according to your plans for it? You don’t get to make sweeping edicts, Jay. You’re not the god of camp over here. People may follow you blindly over there, but that’s not real life. That’s not how we’re going to work. Ever.

|||

End of excerpt.

Whew, that was intense. I’m going to go decompress. You have a good night, and I hope to see you here in the future.

NaNoWriMo Week Three

19
Nov

Grand plans are so fun to make, aren’t they? We dream about what our life will be like, we schedule events and make arrangements around our calendars. And then some monkey comes along with a basket of wrenches and starts chucking them at us, totally messing up all the work we did.

Thus is posting about Nano on a weekly basis.

I seem to be missing a week.

And the thing is only a month long, so missing one week pretty much assures me of a failing grade.

But here I am, a girl with a work in progress, standing in front of you, asking you to love what she wrote.

I will inform you that I have indeed been working on the novel, and have been making s l o w progress. Any progress still counts as progress. And we’ve learned more about our antagonist, though we still need to dig deeper there. I did promise an excerpt, so I’ll include that if you promise not to judge me too harshly for typos, run-on sentences or thoughts that trail off. Once in a while I type with the letters turned white, just for a short burst of 15 minutes or so and in those times it is revealed how many spelling mistakes (amongst other mistakes) I make on a regular basis.

I’m stalling now, aren’t I?

Okay, with no more preamble allowed, here’s this week’s excerpt, where we get to spend a little time with Daryl, our antagonist.

DeathtoStock_SlowDown4[1]

About four hours south on I-35, Darryl Johnson sipped a latte in his kitchen while he cooled off from his jog around Lake of the Isles. He had his laptop open on the marble countertop of the center island, and stretched his quads while he checked stocks. Next to his computer, there was a newspaper laid open to a center, full page advertisement. Advertisement wasn’t exactly right, but that’s who he’d worked with to get it in the Grand Rapid Gazette. He had thought about simply putting it in the smaller county paper, but that served about 10 townships and while it would certainly be read by the people he was targeting, it didn’t carry the same psychological punch he was going for.

One should always go for the psychological punch when there was one available. His many years in court had taught him that.

His wife entered the kitchen and gave him a glancing kiss as she headed to the refrigerator.

“Are you going into the office after you clean up?” she asked as she placed kale, rice milk, strawberries and chia seeds on the counter. “I’ll have time to get your shirts from the cleaners. I’ll be stopping at the dry cleaners if you have anything over there. But I won’t be coming back straight from there, so if you need them for something today, you’ll need to go over there. If you do, ask for my things as well, and let me know so I don’t waste a trip.”

She put the ingredients into a small processor and churned them up. Darryl waited to answer.

Once she had blended her smoothie she poured it into a tall glass and Darryl told her he wouldn’t need the shirts.

“I’m headed up north today, I think,” he mentioned.

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh really? Are you staying overnight? We have plans tomorrow night, you know.”

“No, I’m just going up for the day. I want to meet with a couple people on the homeowner’s association board. They’ll want to gloat over the ad and plan next steps. Then there’s the county to meet with as well. I’ve got a couple appointments with different people there. I probably won’t be back until late.”

“I have my yoga class after work and tonight’s my wine and book club. I think we’re pairing different white wine with a Jane Austen book, I don’t remember which. So I’ll be out anyway.”

She leaned over to the newspaper that lay open next to Darryl.

“What are you scheming now?” she asked mildly.

“It’s not scheming, Lisa. It’s just knowing what you want and seeing the steps it will take to accomplish that goal. Scheming sounds underhanded. This is actually noble. Save the earth and all that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered, straw in her mouth as she sipped her smoothie.

Darryl returned to another quad stretch by bending his knee so he could grab his foot behind him and pulling it towards his back. He wasn’t very limber so this one always hurt a bit.

“Well, you go save the earth, if that’s what gets the job done. And don’t forget we were going to go car shopping soon. It’s time to get rid of that old Audi you call a vehicle. You can’t keep driving a car until it rusts out around you.”

“There’s no rust,” he grunted.

“No rust,” Lisa scoffed. “You just won’t see it. In your mind, that car looks exactly the same as it did when you got it in law school. Trust me, there’s rust. You don’t have to really get rid of it, but you need something that’s a little more suitable for the position you have, the position you’ve had, I should remind you, for a while now. It looks shoddy, and what do clients think when their big-shot lawyer shows up in that rust bucket?”

“Well, since you’re from California, you might not get this, but here in Minnesota, people would probably think I was a down-to-earth guy, someone who wasn’t ‘too big for my britches’, they’d think.”

“Ahh, I see. The whole “successful but grounded” idea? What is it with Midwesterners that they can’t allow themselves to enjoy success?”

Darryl held out his hand for the smoothie and she handed it to him. He stirred it with her straw and answered, “They think it’s arrogant, and probably think God’s going to punish them or something. There are a lot of church folks here, you know.”

“Oh I know. Give me back my smoothie.”

He finished his sip, pulled a face and handed it back to her. “How can you drink that sludge?”

“This, my dear, is the perfect blend of nutrients, gut healthy bacteria, and antioxidents. If I keep drinking this, I’ll never age another day.”

“Maybe, if you don’t keel over from the taste.”

“You get used to it,” she said. “Now I have to get going. You can finish what’s left in the blender, then throw it in the dishwasher would you? Thanks,” she called over her shoulder as she walked down the hall.

***

Not the most pivotal moment, but we get to hear a little about the antagonist and a couple things that inform his perspective. I think it’s good when there’s a part of an antagonist you can relate to. What do you like in a good villain?