1,667 Words per Day (NaNoWriMo, and all that)

On December 1st, every year, producing 1667 words in one day seems like such an achievable goal. Make that 2000, just to round it out. 2000 words in a day?! Easy! I could do that! Just give me a very large cup of very strong tea, a couple of fantastic soundtracks, and I'll turn out 2000 words in a couple of hours! And then I'll take a deep breath and do it again! 2000? I could give you 5!

This is because I participate in NaNoWriMo (here's a link: http://nanowrimo.org/ ). It's kind of awesome. Aspiring writers of all ages and ilks (whatever an ilk is) congregate online every November with the one aim of producing a novel in 50,000 words (which works out to 1667 words a day, if one wants an average minimum). Or a novel. Or 50,000 words. Whichever comes first. The website has all kinds of tools and helps and inspiration and even local connections and meetings, and the mere community is exciting: We're no longer alone in this writing thing! Others are doing the exact same thing all over the world!

I have participated for 7 years, and many of my books have seen their beginnings in November; and their continuation. Somehow, I missed the idea that you're supposed to actually finish by November 30th; but other people don't make that their goal either, so I'm in good company. It is an excellent incentive to sit down and get some work done, proceed further into the body of the story than you ever expect, and cast aside the usual restraints of trying to write sentences that make sense or get the phrasing or scene no less than perfect. Because, after all, reaching for perfection is what editing is for! And they say that G.K. Chesterton almost never edited his writing! (Ok, he might not be the best example; his works often ramble and could use a little tightening up.)

As I have said previously, I am an unfortunately prolific writer. My short stories are never less than 10,000 words and many of my novels are only reaching their beginning after 100,000. So as someone who can produce so many words, NaNo with its quick goals and deadlines-for-fun ought to be easy for me, right?

Alas, no.

My goal is always perfection. Chesterton never edited, so why should I have to? And, more than that! Every sentence counts; every word has a relevance for what a character is, how a scene will play out, how the plot will unfold. Every line effects how I think about the whole story; so every line has to be perfect, or the story won't come out right! I obsess; I agonize. Then I get distracted and go off and do something else, and consider it a good day to get 300 words done.

For this reason, although I have long stories, it takes me a long time to get them that way. I still don't think that I could or want to finish a whole novel in one month or in around 50,000 words; I prefer room to stretch and grow. But NaNoWriMo does push me further along than I usually get in even two months. That's why I love it! However, my bad habits from the rest of the year always mess up the beginning.

It's like this:
November 1st - Gah! didn't write anything. Oh, well. There's always tomorrow!
November 2nd - Um... Oops. Well, 500 words isn't too bad. I'll just write 4000 words tomorrow.
November 3rd - Should be at 5000 words+. But, I can catch up later. I'm too tired to write more than 100 words today.
And so on...
November 14th - I was really too busy to write today! But 10,000 words total isn't that bad...
And thus to the 4th week. Then I panic, and suddenly write up to 5000 words in one day.

The graph of my progress usually ends up looking like a skateboard ramp; a gentle slope (far below par) in the early parts of November, abruptly arching up to meet the 50,000 word goal at the end. It's pathetic, really.

One of the strengths of NaNoWriMo (which is short for National Novel Writing Month) is that it teaches good writing habits: If you write every day for a whole month, then you will have formed writing every day as a habit. If you write around 2000 words, all the better. Real, published authors write books in 2000 words per day!

And then there's me! I write so much at the end that 2000 words starts to look easy; but it isn't a habit, so I quickly lose the knack. Along comes December with all of its crazy Christmas preparation and it's hard to find the time to sit down again. Oh, well. At least I can keep up the habit of writing a little every day! Eventually, I will finish!

Actually, I have discovered that stories are forgiving things: They are like bread more than like soufflés. You have to be delicate with a soufflé; the proportions must be just right, the timing just so, or it won't work. But with bread dough, you can add a little of this, a lot of that, forget it when rising, pop it in the next morning, and it'll still come out delicious. Plots are more like that: I may have an idea at the beginning of what I want my story to be; but it writing, I forget something, or include something else, or get lost in a sidetrack that I didn't expect but turns out to be terribly important. And part of the way through, the story has become something unrecognizable. But then, when I get toward the end, I suddenly see that, somehow, the plot and feel and themes of the story have turned out very much how I wanted them.

And, in an update to a previous post, I finished a book!!! I actually did it! It took forever, but I got to "The End," plus a postscript! "The Princess and the Stable Boy" is wrapped up and complete, in four unedited volumes! Hurray!
It's quite possible that I'm afraid to finish a story: I don't want to let it go, or face the upheaval of a final climactic struggle, or say goodbye to the characters, or something. Perhaps that's why I have such a hard time finishing. But, I learned that I can! Be ready world, here comes "The History of Rowena and Mortimer!" (after a few beta readers have attacked it, and come up with a better name)

Harvest

So... I finish my post really late last time, put it out there for the world to see, think happy thoughts of "I actually have accomplished something writerly, even if I haven't finished any of these projects yet," and fall into restful slumber. It took me a week to get all those pictures and everything; which, of course, was complicated by rereading old bits and relishing all my lovely journals. But, a week is a week, and far too long for what was supposed to be simple and short. Therefore, I awoke in a state of deep disgust at all time wasting, and have since avoided my blog like that one container at the back of the fridge that you're pretty sure will attack if you open it.

I don't think I'm cut out for blogging. Isn't it supposed to be short and easily accomplished? Why does a single post take me 17 weeks - (ahem!) I mean, a whole afternoon (forgive the hyperbole!)? Does anybody even read it? Will they ever?
I sigh forlornly, sip my orange-blossom mocha, and reflect:
1) I do have a lot of ideas for future posts - too many, actually. 2) It doesn't have to take all day, or several days, to write one post; but if setting time limits would help, then it's ok to do that. 3) Payoff is not immediate; and, yes, somebody is reading occasionally (sisters are awesome!). 4) I will get the hang of this. 5) Patience! - especially with myself.

In that spirit, Behold the fruits (literally) of our gardening labors! I love gardening, as I have stated heretofore, and it is especially wonderful when it produces something - however small!

Huge zucchini or tiny acorn squash, you ask?

The answer: Both! Seriously, that zucchini scared me...

Even the flowers are ours! Awesome!

Harvested (alphabetically): acorn squash, a cucumber (very short and chubby), a green bean, a yellow melon of unknown variety, orange cherub and small roma tomatoes, a lovely rose, zinnias, and zucchini.

I wasn't expecting to get any acorn squash! Just plopped abundant seeds in and expected them to not come up, or die miserably after two weeks. But look! acorn squash! They are about 4 inched tall - individual portion size! Hurrah!

 Met in some quarters by eagerness, in others with skepticism.

 

Great thanks to my family for help watering! Much and many great thanks to the good Lord for the same, and for all the little miracles that make the seeds grow and flourish! Long may this continue!

Brevity

Confession:

I love words. Words are awesome. Words are cool. Words do things and go places and makes forms that are beautiful out of lines and shapes and air.

I also have a problem with going on and on with words. This is why I try setting limits for myself - like, for instance, No more than 500 words for a blog post (with which I have obviously had a little trouble!). Limitations are good: Experience has taught me that I can make a point in 1000 words or less, but I won't get to the point if I go over 1000 words. See - my last post, which was under 1000 words but only because I forgot to round out my argument properly.

This addiction to being verbose dates back to the time when, as a child, I drew a picture of a large house-castle and my teacher (who also conveniently doubled as my mom) said something along the lines of "How nice! Why don't you write a story about it, just a page long?" Little did she know! I didn't like the idea, but started - and found that in one page I had only begun. It grew to 60 pages and might've been longer if I hadn't lost interest. Therein, we all discovered that I am a Novelist. No short stories for me! They always grow!

As examples, here are project lengths (I also have trouble finishing...), word counts approximate:

An early (and horribly know-it-all-y) novel beginning, all about Wilfred the minstrel and Lady Beatrice; 5800 words

 "The Masked Actor", a fairy tale which I still like though I will discard what I've written: 16,000 words.

This is the Ultimate Old Stories Notebook. Inches thick, full of often useless stuff, and dusty!

 Within lies dormant:

The EPIC!

 

This monster, concerning a horrible British undergraduate in 1929 and his mysterious ties to another world and thereafter the looming war for control of that world, will - one day! - be finished (though I left off writing it 10 years ago). It is called "Borderland" and I finished the beginning part, at about 252,272 words. I think it'll be a trilogy.

 

Connected with this is the not-for-publication backstory "Mallox' Quest": 21,780 words.

 

 



Another old fairy tale (and my current project, which is only a couple of chapters from completion!): "Reflections" or "The Princess and the Stable boy" or something. I'm terrible at names. It's all fair maidens and knights in shining armor and dragons and curses. Lot's of fun! 223,000 words, and counting.

 



 Another work-in-progress, tentatively titled "Four Calling Birds". It is a British Victorian ghost story set at Christmas, and is considerably less Dickensian and more fantasy-based than that sounds. It started as a short story, but deserved to grow. Trying to keep it short, I have only about 50,000 words.

I started this on the computer, but I like handwriting so switched partly. It's in parts, following different characters in different parts of the world. This is an Second World War espionage fantasy thriller (I like combining genres!). "Under the Radar": 62,013 words in journal, 103,000 digital.

This is a little unusual. Of course I make notes of all sorts of things; but in these journals I record my often vivid and story-like dreams for future writing reference. 87,000 words.

 

 

Not in journals (I love journals!):

 

"The Mind of the Daleks" - a "Doctor Who" fanfic set in Albuquerque: 42,216 words.

 

"Off the Map" - another "Doctor Who fanfic, this time about a mail-order bride in the 1876 West on a train which is attacked by vampires! : 164,684 words.

 

"We Are Old" - modern YA fantasy thriller, with ancient secrets and mysterious assassins: 156,578 words.

 

And all of this does not count notes, meanderings, actual pretty-short stories, etc. I am, alas! too prolific for my own good, sometimes. There's certainly something to be said for brevity, and for finishing



 

Nostalgic Music

I'll resist the temptation to talk about my garden again (GIANT zucchini! green beans! slowly, slowly ripening tiny tomatoes!...)

Rather, let's go back to a night long, long, long, long ago when I was wearing a little red-white-and-blue tutu (I preferred the dress, but was outvoted) and standing backstage at Popejoy Hall. It was huge and dark in Popejoy Hall that night way past my bedtime; huge beyond comprehension, huger than Carnegie Hall or the Sydney Opera House could ever possibly be, a cavern-palace of forbidden heights and dusty corners. At the right moment, after waiting and waiting, I followed all the other five-year-old girls in my ballet class in their red-white-and-blue tutus out onto the stage. (I was near the end of the line, probably because the teachers recognized my complete lack of talent; I only acquired a modicum of grace at around 21 - far too late for a career in ballet!) The stage was dark and dirty and anything but grand. The audience was invisible, which was disappointing; but terrifyingly present (which was unexpected). I forgot a cue, and almost held up the line. Afterward, we went to the fanciest restaurant imaginable and had strawberry milkshakes; I was so sleepy that I couldn't really appreciate it. But first, we  - um - "danced" to "76 Trombones").

I relate this memory because last night I watched the movie "The Music Man" for the first time, and was surprised to find "76 Trombones" as its theme. It conjured no memories of that long-ago ballet recital; I had to go looking for them. The song was a common marching song of my childhood; it kindles no fire of association - only the trivia-fact that it was my ballet song. Funny how these things work.

Lately I've been thinking about nostalgic music. This is partly because some clever Marvel money-monger decided to release a tie-in album conglomeration of '70s songs to go with "Guardians of the Galaxy". Smart. The album is enjoying its second week at the top of the charts, having apparently triggered a sort of second-hand nostalgia in a new generation. I've listened to it (sorta; ITunes only let's you sample 90 seconds!), and I think I understand its appeal - for the songs are catchy and fun and edgy with that classic '70s quality that was somehow the height of rockiness.
Then, I downloaded a tall stack of CDs full of music that I've been listening to since before they were CDs: Twila Paris, Avalon, Michael Kelly Blanchard, Keith Green... Some of it is quite good. A lot of it puts me in a bad mood, as I remember why it was that I searched out different kinds of music in the first place.

So what is it about music that creates nostalgia? I came across this quote; "...researchers have uncovered evidence that suggests our brains bind us to the music we heard as teenagers more tightly than anything we’ll hear as adults—a connection that doesn’t weaken as we age. Musical nostalgia, in other words, isn’t just a cultural phenomenon: It’s a neuronic command. And no matter how sophisticated our tastes might otherwise grow to be, our brains may stay jammed on those songs we obsessed over during the high drama of adolescence." (Mark Joseph Stern. slate.com) (Aren't my references beautiful!) And further, because of all sorts of happy, feel-good brain chemicals, "Between the ages of 12 and 22, our brains undergo rapid neurological development—and the music we love during that decade seems to get wired into our lobes for good."

This is interesting as a definition of what it is that connects us to particular songs. But I find it incomplete. For one thing, I can't think of any songs or artists who formed that kind of emotional connection in me. I listened to a lot of Michael W. Smith, Avalon, Newsboys, Vangelis, classical, in my teens; but I don't always like these artists now. My musical tastes were probably formed at that time; but I am constantly discovering new genres that I like, so that my collection ranges from Metal to folk, classical to pop, experimental, electronica, jazz, big band, musical, movie and TV scores. A lot of scores! I love music, and use it too for mood-creating when I write. But I might like a new track just as much if not more than something from years ago. Why is this? Is it simply that I missed a defining first-kiss, dance-at-the-prom moment that Stern mentions? Or the cultural pressure from a set of friends that might influence my taste, which he talks about elsewhere?

And then there is this: Sometimes my dad will play a song that he remembers and loves from some undefined time in his misty past. Perhaps "We Built This City" or Electric Light Orchestra. And I get his love of it; I can understand and even share his sense of nostalgia. The same can be said for something that is completely new - "Skyfall," "Fireflies," or even Alicia Keys' "It's On Again." This is also interesting. Scientists have done studies on what it is that makes a song catchy; but perhaps there is more to it. Perhaps some music is just right. The music of "Guardians of the Galaxy" is all about that shared sense of nostalgia - about how music can create a connection not just between minds and hearts but also across time. There is something in the right kind of song that strikes a chord in the human instrument.

Zucchini

There are, I know, some people who detest zucchini. This is probably because it grows in such stupendous bulk that it has become a cliché to have too much of it - like the extreme difficulty of soufflés, cops and donuts, or dogs chasing cats. However, living in a desert where a brown thumb is default, I welcome anything that grows and grows in bulk with open arms! Bring on the zucchini! Bushels full! (What is a bushel, anyway...?) Besides, I actually like zucchini; it is lovely grilled, sautéd, stir-fried, in quesadillas, or (of course) in zucchini bread!

A lovely zucchini squash, which should be ready in a day or two!

Some very small ones, perhaps only an inch or two. Such potential! (I wish I'd gone out to take pictures in the morning when the blossoms open!)

 

A muffin! We don't actually make zucchini bread; it always come out way too gooey. But muffins are perfect!

 

 

 

I have several zucchini plants in various stages of development, and several pending squashes, and the plants shall probably die of frostbite or fungal infections before I tire of their harvest. There are plenty of recipes we have yet to try! I wonder if zucchini soufflé is any good?

Gardens

I love gardens and forests and fresh grass and ivy-covered walls and evergreens and meadow-places thick with overgrown grasses and tangled wildflowers, and in fact anything green and growing and lush. This is no doubt partly because I have lived all my life in a desert, which is a brown-beige almost everywhere you look and almost all year around. But however it came about, my love of green and growing things amounts to such a craving that every year in (roughly) late February, I start having dreams that are overgrown with vine and leaf and branch. When this lush imagination-riot descends, I know that it is time to start planting. I have had a garden of sorts for a few years - for vegetables and flowers and usually weeds, since I always feel guilty pulling up anything at all.*

It is easier and more effective to grow things in pots with controlled (and store-bought) soil, rather than directly in the ground - for our local soil is pathetic. But I try nonetheless, and since my house has a large yard I have plots everywhere, supplemented and augmented a little bit at a time over the years. My gardening is very haphazard! County extension people, professional gardeners, and Sam Gamgees everywhere would be shocked.

And, living in a desert where drought is more the habit than a mood and water is precious, it's hard to keep everything wet enough. So, I've drafted my family into extreme water conservation: We save bath and shower water, dishes and vegetable rinsing water, and anything else possible. This means lugging gallons every day - which must be good exercise at least. I have a lovely family!

But this year, with lot's of family-help, some rain, and God's blessing, my garden is the lushest and greenest it has ever been! So far, it has not produced much in the way of edibles, but the sight of it is enough to satisfy every desert-dazzled craving:

Pots: Tomatoes and wee little green beans coming along nicely!

 

Plots: Further green beans with, alas, rather wilted acorn squash leaves in the background. But that's all right! They perk up again past the heat of the day.

Plots (of a garden variety): Basil and tomatoes, still young and tender and rather unlikely to produce much fruit unless I find a way to fertilize them. I've heard good things of Epsom salts...

Plots: By way of contrast, this is how my garden usually looks. But it's a new plot and hasn't had time to ruminate.

A flower! I don't remember what kind this is, because I put a whole lot of seeds in this plot (including some that are years old) on the theory that very few would come up. I think they all did.

Pots: Green tomatoes! Their so cute! Grow, you little beasts!

Plots: Pumpkins, I think, and tomatoes. I didn't actually plant pumpkins here; whatever they are, they came up on their own. But they're happy, so I leave them!*

And there you have it. Not a complete tour - I also have herbs and sunflowers and zucchini and onions and garlic and turnips (I think) and roses and alyssum and grapes. I am in heaven!!!
(Did you know that the word "paradise" is a loanword from Persian, and means something like "garden"? Pretty awesome. "Persia" itself is named after the same thing, and "Farsi," the Persian and now Iranian language, comes from the same root also.)





*My Theory of Weeds: Let them grow! They hold down the sand when the spring winds come; and they make good compost, if you take care of them before they form seeds.
The exception to this rule, of course, comes with all weeds that are pokey or thorny or sticker-y. I take after our father Adam in this way.
Another exception might come into play when (not if) I move someplace that isn't a desert. I hear that things actually grow in such places without much encouragement.

Oreo Hair (or, Annie's Adoring Fan Club)

This is Annie the dog, from a hiking trip last year.
She is very large and very black and very fierce-looking. Coyotes, cats, lizards, men, women and children run in fear at the sight of her. She also refuses to pose well for the camera - doesn't see the point, I think. She's a hunting dog, not one of those silly show dogs! Annie is very intimidating; we call her our black shuck, although she's incredibly smooth and not shaggy. Here's an example of a black shuck:

That should give you nightmares!

 

Annie must have a kind of charisma, however, to go with all of that terror-mongering: Everywhere we go, most dogs immediately adore her. (The exception, of course, being the very territorial or very fearful.) Whatever size, whatever breed, they promptly want to play, sniff, submit - anything! Neighborhood dogs try to clamber over fences just to join her on our wonderful walks: There's Sugar the Boxer, Jenny the Black Lab, and (our names for them) Walter and Leo the Somethings.

Just these last couple of days, we met Olaf and Oreo. Olaf is a friend's miniature poodle, barely out of puppyhood, who loves everybody and everything and was convinced that he found a new playmate in Annie - though she was a little too stressed to play. And then, this morning, Oreo (a Pit-bull mix) jumped his fence and refused to go back. He said hello. He wagged! He barked! He wagged and barked and wriggled some more! He wanted to go walking with us, because he loves us. He loves me, he loves Annie - he really loves Annie! Annie is awesome! I really think he would have come all the way with us, doing whatever awesome thing we were doing. It took all my strength and dexterity just to shove him back over his fence to his distressed relations (I mean owner). In the process, of course, I got covered in Oreo-hair and Oreo-kisses (which is something I never thought I'd say), but he didn't mind.

In all of this, Annie just thought that he was little weird. Because that's how she is. She'll say hello, but she ignores other dogs for the most part - not even playing with them much. She just wants to make sure that they don't play with us; we're her people, and she hates it when other dogs steal us. It's funny. She has this adoring fan club of Oreos and Sugars and Olafs, picking them up wherever she goes, a following for Team Annie - she could head up her own pack if she wanted! But she doesn't think that way.

She's a hunting dog, after all. All those other dogs are just silly.

Days off...

I like days off. I don't think that I do them properly, because I always do work of some kind on them - dishes or laundry or gardening or other miscellanea. But even so, it's nice to have them. Sundays are my most common, of course; God built that one day off out of every seven into the very structure of humanity. I observe the Sabbath (not very well, I have to confess!) by 1 - not walking (which my dog thinks is highly irrational), 2 - not writing (not that you could tell the difference, unfortunately; I'm inconsistent in my chosen profession), 3 - not sewing or otherwise crafting (usually; one sometimes gets carried away in fits of creativity), 4 - doing less cooking, cleaning, dishes washing, or other chores (this never works out, but it's a good goal), and 5 - sleeping in.

Yesterday - to the delight of my dog - I made an exception to #1 and went for a family hike near Sandia Crest. This means that now I'm achy and my feet will be hurting later this week from having no off-day. But it's still definitely worth it to be out in God's creation. Beautiful! Splendid! Awesome! I even took pictures:

I love mountain slopes - and even climbing up them, if I'm feeling energetic which I wasn't yesterday.

And that's me, looking a little the worse for wear.

My camera takes fantastic close-up pictures, when it wants to. I love these little flowers!

Breath-taking!

Even more than mountain slopes, I love such quiet green glades as this. I wish I could stay here for hours!

This looks like a variety of foxglove - but wild, small, and very delicate. I should get a guide to wildflowers in the southwest - except that they are generally behind. I am constantly seeing new kinds of flowers - probably escaped from someone's garden - and the warm months have grown lovely, even in my desert neighborhood.

 

So we had a lot of fun, chased horned toads (which are actually lizards), desperately wanted to chase that squirrel (I'm speaking from Annie the dog's perspective), got bit by mosquitos, and recharged with frappucinos at the bottom of the mountain. A good day off! ****sigh of contentment****

Patriotic Movies

It's almost two weeks since Independence Day. What was I saying about good intentions? But it's still July, after all, and it never hurts to think about what it took to get this nation started and the fine qualities which define it even now.

These are, of course, huge subjects. Gigantic, in fact. Libraries could be written on them. But I was thinking this July 4th about the patriotic movies that we like to watch, with interesting results; because my favorites are contemplations and commentaries in themselves.

Every year around the beginning of July, my family and I like to pull out a few classic patriotic movies - so often that it doesn't feel like 4th of July without them: "Independence Day," of course (too much explosion and stuff being destroyed - I avoid that one). A recent addition; "Captain America" (fun, though uninspired). "National Treasure" and "National Treasure: Book of Secrets" (these are actually surprisingly patriotic and carry a nice sense of history and nobility). And we might throw in a war movie - "Patton" this year, "The Patriot" (disappointing), one of the WWII greats (we're working through these slowly), and probably "Captain America" actually belongs here. And then there's "Sergeant York" and "Foreign Correspondent" - both with outright propaganda, that still works!

But then there are my two favorite of all Independence Day movies - the ones that really stir the mind and challenge the heart; "1776" and "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington".

"1776" is crass, crude, and bawdy in places. Back when it came out about 200 years ago, new film critic Roger Ebert disliked the way it tore down the Founding Fathers, not paying them the proper reverence. But this was wrong. It is well written and well researched, many lines drawn direct from letters that the men of the Continental Congress wrote and shaped into surprisingly powerful debates and songs. For, of all unlikely things, it is a musical about the writing and signing of the Declaration of Independence. It doesn't take itself too seriously, but at the same time realizes the importance and weight of the war that a young country was launching against a world power that ought to have destroyed it. An odd juxtaposition, but incredible.

"Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" almost takes the opposite extreme. It is set in the modern day (for its lasting relevance, 1939 still qualifies as modern day) and is about the petty business of politics rather than waging just wars. Back when it was released 2 years ago, critics, journalists, and actual politicians alike scorned it as being too cynical about the way our government works; while, ironically, in the increasingly tyrant-ruled countries of Europe welcomed its demonstration of democracy at work. And that, amazingly, is what it is - a screwball comedy about one naïve man against an overwhelming political puppet master - a dull lesson in parliamentary procedure with a  devastating stand for a lost cause at its heart. Somebody described it as having the structure and tone (if not the look) of a superhero movie, and so it has; Jefferson Smith is the superhero, a good man broken to his very core but who finds that core and that very brokenness strong enough to withstand.

Wow! Amazing movies. I'm inspired just writing about them! But I noticed an interesting commonality between them this year; they are both about the way our democracy works. They are about the right and duty of every man to stand and use his voice in governance, not for himself alone (certainly!) but "a little looking out for the other guy," as Mr. Smith would have it. They are about how lost causes are sometimes the only ones worth fighting for. About standing up for truth, justice, and the American way. About how, as Ben Gates in "National Treasure" said, "If there's something wrong, those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action." Deep subjects for contemplation!

And maybe that's why, of all patriotic movies, these two are the best in my opinion. The war movies are good - like "Saving Private Ryan" (which I haven't seen), "The Longest Day", the John Waynes, explosions and blood. It's good to remember the men who have given their lives in defense of our country, especially on Memorial Day and Veterans' Day. But on the 4th of July, there is nothing better than to recall what made it up in the first place and is its very stuff and sinew even now.

Good Intentions...

They say that good intentions pave the road to hell. "They" say a lot of things. I'm not sure I trust "They". For instance, what do They mean? Good intentions generally? Or just the ones that don't produce anything good? Or is it like that other saying, People do right things for the right reason, right things for the wrong reason, wrong things for the right reason, etc.*? I have come to the conclusion that They must mean either good intentions that go nowhere, or good intentions that produce negative results far from the intent. But this is simplifying things, and leaves out all of those good intentions that succeed.

Take, for example, this blog. I have all sorts of good intentions simply bursting out of me, and every expectation of meeting each one! Etsy shop? Sure! Stocked with gorgeous, creative, charming objects to beautify any home, workspace, or Christmas tree? Um, well - sure; but just as soon as I finish making said objects and thoroughly researching every legal contingency of starting a business. Research? Actually, I'm terrible at research... Ok, well - Find a job? Yes! Just as soon as I've cleaned the house, planted the garden, made a new dress... Make a cherry pie for the first time ever? Of course! Easiest thing in the world! I've already sort of mastered strawberry rhubarb, and it probably won't matter if I change just one ingredient... Um, oops... Write the last few chapters of my novel before June 30? Ye- Uh, wait. Where did June go? it was here a minute ago! Ok - fine! 50,000 words in July for Camp NaNoWriMo? I can do that! What?! I'm already supposed to be at 10,000 words and I've only written 500?!? Ok - where's my pen?

Yeah, ok, well, good intentions are one thing. Sticking them through is another. Like New Years Resolutions that you can make any month.

Maybe I'll just make some chocolate chip cookies and get on with a little gardening. Yum!


*The "etc." of course goes for people who do wrong things for the wrong reason. These are, actually, probably few a far between. We consider the likes of Emperor Palpatine, who bribed Anakin and later (earlier?) Luke to come to the Dark Side with promises of doing good; but once there on the Dark Side, he simply reveled in evil. But I haven't met any Emperors in person; even the power-mad 2-year-olds that I've known are generally far too cute to be categorized with him!

A New Venture

Hello to everyone as I launch into the Worlds of Blogdom!

This is a little scary - until I remind myself that I'm an exhibitionist at heart and have been composing internal blogs on anything and everything since before blogging was even invented. I have Views, and Musings (which I, at least, think are interesting), and Ideas! But I also tend to be very private in sharing these, so this is a stretch.

Therefore, I here define my purpose for this blog:

I shall: Post no more than 200 words (500 for special occasions). Write interesting essays on specific subjects. Include recipes and menus for all of the delicious foods I make. Lament the not-so delicious foods that I perpetrate. Put in photos of my projects, things I've grown, places I go. Talk up the wonderful novel or story that I am writing, and the ones that I want to write. And maybe even make up a few exciting adventures that I haven't actually had.

In short - superheroes and soufflés, calligraphy and home repair, "Doctor Who" and castles in the clouds, grammatical accuracy and tea parties, here I come!