Okay, so I've been dabbling with a new novel. They were honestly words of intuition. I have done no planning. No plotting. No saving of cats or beating of plot lines.
I was just writing.
And I realized as I was going along that I have a writerly quirk. It's names. I re-use the same names over and over again.
Ruby, for one. And the last name Carpenter must really sing to me for some reason. I think I've used it four times, in four different novels.
But that's not all, my friends! Oh no! I steal names too. From critique partners (Joel), and family members and students and billboards (come on! You've done it too!).
I really don't get this quirk. There are like, a bajillion names. And I'm choosing the same ones over and over again?
Pathetic. (Ha!)
Do you have any writerly quirks? What are they?
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Showing posts with label quirks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quirks. Show all posts
Monday, April 1, 2013
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Things I Can't Live Without
My blog holiday post last week got me thinking about real things I can't live without. It didn't help that that very morning, I was aroused from a deep sleep when I heard my garage door open. See, I thought my husband had been in the shower, the water was running. I love that white noise while I sleep. But I digress.The shower was off. The garage door had opened. My heart felt like lead. I didn't even have to get up to know what was going on.
The hot water heater had gone out. Again. That's right, peeps. AGAIN. Just fourteen months ago, I gave up a right kidney to keep my tiny townhome supplied with hot water. Seriously. With what a plumber costs, that's about what it took.
So here I was again. I didn't shower. Went to work. Was on the phone when my first class (of 6th graders) came in. When I hung up, I told them I was having a life moment and that this was my "unshowered" look.
They all stared. They had that look in their eyes like they weren't sure if I was kidding or not. Then one of them said, "Mrs. Johnson, it looks the same as your showered look."
*major snarfage*
So anyway, now I've been thinking about things I can't live without. And you guessed it. Hot water is way up there. Here's my top five, in no particular order.
1. Reality TV
2. Music
3. Hot water
4. Dove dark
5. My kiddos
Hmm...writing didn't make the list, but it would probably be in the top ten. What's your top five? Lay it on me baby. I showered today. In super-hot, scalding water. And no, I still have a functioning kidney. Barely.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Blog Chain - Perkiness, Quirkiness, Smirkiness
Quirkiness, smirkiness. Here we go. You asked for it.
The topic for this chain is quirkiness, not to be confused with perkiness. One I have a lot of, the other, not so much. The awesome Mary started this topic, and her post on her neatness and her sheep are awe-inspiring. There have been uber-fantastic posts between hers and mine, so go check them out. The blogger before me was Abigail and the next person is Terri. Keep the linkage going, baby.
So here's the question Mary posed:
What kind of quirky habits or rituals do you have regarding your writing? (or regarding anything else, if that is more fun.)
Many people have posted pictures of their writing space. Um, I can't do that. I don't have a desk. I write on a laptop, and it's become a third appendage. It goes with me everywhere I go. I write on the couch while my husband plays X-box, at the counter while I eat breakfast, or in my office at school during lunch. (In fact, I'm posting this during lunch.)
My favorite place to write is in our old, blue recliner upstairs. I guess I can post a picture of it.
This is my desk space. It's right by the window, which is a bonus, because it has a windowsill for my popsicle sticks, my USB drive, pens, the remote, and anything else small enough to fit. There's no place I like better than my blue recliner. The footrest up, headphones on, laptop open…ahhh, the life.
I'm very orderly, not to be confused with organized. That's one thing I'm not. But everything has an order, and must be done in that order. I feel funny writing that, because I very rarely write a novel from beginning to end. I guess it's the process I go through to write that's orderly.
I guess I'll call it a routine. I think routines are important. I teach school, and I always joke that things don't go well until the kids are trained, which is about October. My husband and I refer to the kids as dogs. Now, before you go all postal on me, I don't think kids are actually dogs, but they are very trainable. Once they know the routine, they very seldom deviate from it. I live my life like this. Everything has a routine. I get nervous if the routine is disrupted in any way. I guess that's my quirk.
Before I write, I open the Internet. I check email, then my forums. Once I'm satisfied I'm all caught up, I open what I'm working on. I usually back-read about ten pages to get myself in the right mindset, editing as I go. I make a few notes about what's coming next, and then I write. I always do everything in the same order. Before I quit, I make a few notes about what I should work on the next writing session, just to remind myself.
It's all in the routine of writing. It doesn't matter if I only have a 30-minute lunch to write or a two hour block of time after my kids go to bed. I always follow the same routine.
I'm not really sure that's quirkish enough for you. So I guess I'll spill a couple other quirky behaviors about myself. Notice I said quirky, not to be confused with obsessive. I'm a very scheduled person. I get up at the same time every work day. I get ready in the exact same order—shower, dress, check email, brush teeth, dry hair, makeup, dress daughter, do her hair, breakfast. If I have to deviate from the order, I'm all discombobulated for the rest of the morning. Like if my daughter won't come when I call her, I just stand there at the top of the stairs, trying to decide what to do. I can't do anything, because it's simply time for her to get dressed and do her hair. I can't go out of order.
I drive the same way to daycare and then school. When they closed the road (for construction, it's open again, phew) to my daughter's daycare, I just sat there at the intersection, a little nervous. It's not that I don't know my way around the city. I've lived here for nine years. It's my routine—and it's being disrupted. Eliza even says, "Mom, this isn't the way to Rainy's." I grip the wheel a little harder, try to smile, and say, "I know, but we can get there this way, too." We really can. It's no big deal. Except that it is.
Everything must flow in order. And it's time to check the email, yes, I do that about forty times a day. There's always time for email, that can come in any order. How's that for quirky?
Yeah, check out the next blogarific link in the chain, Terri.
The topic for this chain is quirkiness, not to be confused with perkiness. One I have a lot of, the other, not so much. The awesome Mary started this topic, and her post on her neatness and her sheep are awe-inspiring. There have been uber-fantastic posts between hers and mine, so go check them out. The blogger before me was Abigail and the next person is Terri. Keep the linkage going, baby.
So here's the question Mary posed:
What kind of quirky habits or rituals do you have regarding your writing? (or regarding anything else, if that is more fun.)
Many people have posted pictures of their writing space. Um, I can't do that. I don't have a desk. I write on a laptop, and it's become a third appendage. It goes with me everywhere I go. I write on the couch while my husband plays X-box, at the counter while I eat breakfast, or in my office at school during lunch. (In fact, I'm posting this during lunch.)
My favorite place to write is in our old, blue recliner upstairs. I guess I can post a picture of it.
This is my desk space. It's right by the window, which is a bonus, because it has a windowsill for my popsicle sticks, my USB drive, pens, the remote, and anything else small enough to fit. There's no place I like better than my blue recliner. The footrest up, headphones on, laptop open…ahhh, the life.I'm very orderly, not to be confused with organized. That's one thing I'm not. But everything has an order, and must be done in that order. I feel funny writing that, because I very rarely write a novel from beginning to end. I guess it's the process I go through to write that's orderly.
I guess I'll call it a routine. I think routines are important. I teach school, and I always joke that things don't go well until the kids are trained, which is about October. My husband and I refer to the kids as dogs. Now, before you go all postal on me, I don't think kids are actually dogs, but they are very trainable. Once they know the routine, they very seldom deviate from it. I live my life like this. Everything has a routine. I get nervous if the routine is disrupted in any way. I guess that's my quirk.
Before I write, I open the Internet. I check email, then my forums. Once I'm satisfied I'm all caught up, I open what I'm working on. I usually back-read about ten pages to get myself in the right mindset, editing as I go. I make a few notes about what's coming next, and then I write. I always do everything in the same order. Before I quit, I make a few notes about what I should work on the next writing session, just to remind myself.
It's all in the routine of writing. It doesn't matter if I only have a 30-minute lunch to write or a two hour block of time after my kids go to bed. I always follow the same routine.
I'm not really sure that's quirkish enough for you. So I guess I'll spill a couple other quirky behaviors about myself. Notice I said quirky, not to be confused with obsessive. I'm a very scheduled person. I get up at the same time every work day. I get ready in the exact same order—shower, dress, check email, brush teeth, dry hair, makeup, dress daughter, do her hair, breakfast. If I have to deviate from the order, I'm all discombobulated for the rest of the morning. Like if my daughter won't come when I call her, I just stand there at the top of the stairs, trying to decide what to do. I can't do anything, because it's simply time for her to get dressed and do her hair. I can't go out of order.
I drive the same way to daycare and then school. When they closed the road (for construction, it's open again, phew) to my daughter's daycare, I just sat there at the intersection, a little nervous. It's not that I don't know my way around the city. I've lived here for nine years. It's my routine—and it's being disrupted. Eliza even says, "Mom, this isn't the way to Rainy's." I grip the wheel a little harder, try to smile, and say, "I know, but we can get there this way, too." We really can. It's no big deal. Except that it is.
Everything must flow in order. And it's time to check the email, yes, I do that about forty times a day. There's always time for email, that can come in any order. How's that for quirky?
Yeah, check out the next blogarific link in the chain, Terri.
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