The Verve and other random things

I need to write for two hours today...............tick tock tick tock nothings really coming to me so hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I know!!!! A descriptive scene of a place I used to live in using a Fantasia type of back drop!!! Yesssssssssss hopefully the verve will be with me today :)

Que creepy horror movie music:

This heap of rubble that Magnus stood on was known to the locals as 9 mile, not because it was located nine miles outside of town but because at it's top most peak it was 9 miles tall. Can you imagine it? A pile of rocks, loose dirt and stones dotted here and there by low lying Russian Thistles it's only inhabitants the rattlesnakes and yellow bellied marmots that built nests in the hollowed out places of the mountain. This heap of rubble was 9 miles tall and made up the outermost ring of mountains that curved around the small town of Windover and gave Magnus the vantage point he needed to scout the town below. There were six mountains in total that made up the protective ring around this valley and on the other side was the great Salt Flats. While Kyndl had warned him of the evil in this town he hadn't been able to really comprehend the vileness below him. The valley lay below dotted here and there by a handful of white lights barely visible through the dense fog of evil that lay over the entire valley. So few lights, so few true believers, he had heard of places like this at the Keep, back in St.Louis, but had never seen it himself. A nexus a place where one form of evil meets another and pools and seethes and swarms spiralling down down down until the people affected either end it themselves or suffocate and die. It doesn't matter much which way it goes they all end up dead in the end.
Windover was special it was not just a bad place it was a powerful nexus of immorality and cultic worship. Only in this town did the two things exist side by side. The divide was there clearly marked by the roads bisecting the town. As often happens in border towns this one was no different the more wealthy side that of the Nevada side had nice paved roads, clean neat yards, ok schools and a pretty little golf course, all paid for by the willing enslavement of those that both worked and lost thier wages at the casinos. On the Utah side the roads were cracked, worn through in areas, cheap run down apartments an even worse school and most of the people on this side of town lived in old run down single wide trailers permanently hitched to a lot. As a rule most Cults don't pay well but in the Mormon cult it's sort of a mandatory thing that you pay the church first. Unfortunatly for the Utah side of Windover the Church members resided on the Nevada side of the town and didn't really see the need to pay for the upkeep of the Utah side.
Kyndle had called this place a modern day Soddom and Gamorrah she had warned Magnus that the evil within was not something to be taken lightly and no amount of persuasion could convince her to come back here. She wouldn't talk about what had happened to her in this town but its after affects were there in the shadows of her eyes and the unconscious way she held her self defensively anytime the name was brought up.


My verve has run out..i had a clear picture where I was going with this and once again my own flowery words distracted me..i've got to be the worst ADD writer ever!!! I mean who gets distracted with thier own words? Some phrases i'm thinking of using: spritual bootcamp, salt of the earth, this little light of mine got snuffed out, like lambs to slaughter, Den of the Lotus People, if money's the root of all evil the great tree must spring forth from here, The underground lake in Windover is fathomless because it's collected all the tears of the sinners over the course of the centuries, It's just like a Watcher to interrupt my good time. I can resist anything except temptatoin.

well i did not quite make my two hour mark for writing :( sooo sad but on the upside i've made a new scene for my book!! yay and hopefully entertained you in the process...now tell me do you smell pancakes?

Too sick :(

I was going to do some more editing on what i've written and try to flesh out and finish joining the scenes that I have written..then last night I was struck down with a horrible fever..terrible cough...and full body aches and pains...yes i'm sick! I hate being sick i'm like the worst patient ever. I hate taking medicine, I hate having to leave my husband to man the fort while i'm down and out and I hate headaches. I hate being sick...period..I don't get really sick very often but when I do it's usually multiple illnesses at once..sort of like my body is trying to take it all on at one time to get it over with. BOOO So here I sit at work feeling like death warmed over and all I can think about is laying my head down and praying to God that I make it through this day. I'd sure hate to miss work tomorrow but if i'm still feeling this bad i'll miss it...regardless of how upset my supervisor may be.

moving slowly forward

Always in the past i've written essays, poems, short stories, simple small things. Last year and yes it's been a full year I took on the daunting task of writing a novel..a full blown novel. I couldn't tell how far i'd gotten so i copy and pasted the numerous journal entries into one big word doc. so i could see the progressions all at once...here's what i've discovered..I'm a terrrible writer! Seriously! a years worth of trying and all i've got to show for it are some disjointed scenes none of which really match up with each other..so i guess my next task as a novel writer will be to work on transition scenes from one to the other and HOPEFULLY the first HALF of this novel will come together by the end of this year..HOPEFULLY!!

On to family stuff:
This summer started with a bang for sure! We've had The Dinosaru Picnic at Vago Park as part of the Passport Playdates.
We've gone to another mommy friends house for a Memorial Day BBQ and Slip n'Slide fun
We've had Magnus's 2nd birthday party with his friend Bean,
We've gone to the Aquaport waterpark and it's only June 8th!! I'm exhausted and excited to see what the rest of our summer will bring to us :)
I believe we're going to go camping with our friend Amanda and her kids in July, I know we're planning a trip back down to my home to visit my Granny and Papa and see the rest of my family, then theres the Prater family reunion in August..phew and that's just what we know about!!
I've been giving some serious thought to finding a writers group. Much as i appreciate the feedback I'm given from one lone reader (you know who you are) I feel as if i've reached a place where I need some more in depth constructive critism. I need help developing my plot and filling out my characters..it's hard to write a novel and no one writes in a vacuum.

I'm a writer at heart and I love words! I love all words even the dead ones (may they rest in peace). I have compiled a list of words that I love but sadly no longer appear in the English Language. Today I'll be posting some of those words in the hopes that if we all begin using them again they may find a resurrection. If not well some of them are just fun to say :)

1. Jargogle
Verb trans. – “To confuse, jumble” – First of all this word is just fun to say in its various forms. John Locke used the word in a 1692 publication, writing “I fear, that the jumbling of those good and plausible Words in your Head..might a little jargogle your Thoughts…” I’m planning to use it next time my husband attempts to explain complicated car mechanic concepts to me for fun: “Seriously, I don’t need you to further jargogle my brain.”

2. Deliciate
Verb intr. – “To take one’s pleasure, enjoy oneself, revel, luxuriate” – Often I feel the word “enjoy” just isn’t enough to describe an experience, and “revel” tends to conjure up images of people dancing and spinning around in circles – at least in my head. “Deliciate” would be a welcome addition to the modern English vocabulary, as in “After dinner, we deliciated in chocolate cream pie.”

3. Corrade
Verb trans. – “To scrape together; to gather together from various sources” – I’m sure this wasn’t the original meaning of the word, but when I read the definition I immediately thought of copy-pasting. Any English teacher can picture what a corraded assignment looks like.

4. Kench
Verb intr. – “To laugh loudly” – This Middle English word sounds like it would do well in describing one of those times when you inadvertently laugh out loud while reading a text message in class and manage to thoroughly embarrass yourself.

5. Ludibrious
Adj. – “Apt to be a subject of jest or mockery” – This word describes a person, thing or situation that is likely to be the butt of jokes. Use it when you want to sound justified in poking fun at someone. “How could I resist? He’s just so ludibrious.”

6. Sanguinolency
Noun – “Addiction to bloodshed” – Could be a useful word for history majors and gamers, as in “Genghis Khan was quite the sanguinolent fellow” or “Do you think spending six hours a day playing Postal 2 actually fosters sanguinolency?”

7. Jollux
Noun - Slang phrase used in the late 18th century to describe a “fat person” – Although I’m not sure whether this word was used crudely or in more of a lighthearted manner, to me it sounds like a nicer way to refer to someone who is overweight. “Fat” has such a negative connotation in English, but if you say “He’s a bit of a jollux” it doesn’t sound so bad!

8. Malagrugrous
Adj. – “Dismal” – This adjective is from Scots and may be derived from an old Irish word that refers to the wrinkling of one’s brow. An 1826 example of its use is “He looketh malagrugorous and world-wearied.” I’m tempted to also make the word into a noun: “Stop being such a malagrug!”

9. Brabble
Verb – “To quarrel about trifles; esp. to quarrel noisily, brawl, squabble” – Brabble basically means to argue loudly about something that doesn’t really matter, as in “Why are we still brabbling about who left the dirty spoon on the kitchen table?” You can also use it as a noun: “Stop that ridiculous brabble and do something useful!”

10. Freck
Verb intr. – “To move swiftly or nimbly” – I can think of a lot of ways to use this one, like “I hate it when I’m frecking through the airport and other people are going so slow.”

Those are just some fun words I love to say. The added bonus is when you use them you instantly sound smarter ;)

End of School Stuff

This years end of school activities included two graduations for our family. A Preschool Graduation and an 8th grade graduation. We are so pleased that both of our children excelled in school this year. It was stressful no doubt but now that it's over i'm hoping we can all relax for a few weeks before we begin getting ready for the next year. A milestone for both children as one starts Kindergarten and the other begins High School *eeeek*!!

Mental Static

that's pretty much it the whole month of April was one big mental blow out! I'm still dealing with mental static trying my best to find a way to get the cobwebs and ADD out of my head. I hate this inability to focus it puts a serious damper on my writing!!! grrr!

One of my favorites

I love this writers blog..because he's a writer and he blogs about writing and about writers. Today I read one of his blogs that had me rolling but it is also sooo very very true!! Here is it for your viewing pleasure :) Beware Of Writer: Ten Very Good Reasons To Get Far The Fuck Away From Us Writer Types I’ve seen a meme bouncing around that reveals reasons why you shouldn’t ever date a writer. It’s true, to a point. But I think it goes even deeper than that. Frankly, you should probably get the hell away from us. Anybody. Not just the people we date. But everybody. See us in line at the grocery store? Run, don’t walk. Escape. Avoid. Awooga, awooga. On a good day, we’re eccentric troublemakers. On a bad day, we’re malevolent sociopaths. And with writers, it’s usually a bad day. So. Here’s a little post to clarify why you should stay at least 50 feet away from us at all times, lest we sink our vampire teeth into your body and drain you of all the things that made you pure and good. See, the things that make us good writers? They make us awful people. Imagine a sign around our necks: BEWARE OF WRITER. The Glass Is Not Half-Empty, But Rather, Full Of Badger Piss We are all pessimists, cynics, hypochondriacs and conspiracy theorists. In our fiction, the world must be broken. We must think of the worst. It’s what fuels the fire. Nobody wants to read a story about happy ponies sipping from the molasses pond and then they all dance and have all the hay they want and rainbows and bags of gold and leprechauns and *poop noise* — that’s just pap. Twee, waffling pap. Fiction demands that we go to the well and draw up the most stagnant water we can find, and so we look for the worst in the world around us. We get used to it. We accept it as the norm. We know the worst can happen. We know it because we write about it. Some dude will come up behind you on the park bench and saw your head off. Your plane? Gonna crash. That mole in your armpit? ARMPIT CANCER. Please Ignore Our Forked Tongues We are lying liars who lie. We have to be. Fiction is a lie. Non-fiction is, in its own way, a lie. When writing, deception is a skill. This, like so much of the thread that goes into our wretched quilt, trails into our real lives and ensures that the best writers make the most powerful liars. We can convince you of anything. We don’t mean to. It’s just — well, it’s like John Cusack’s character says in Grosse Pointe Blank: Martin: You do it because you are trained to do it, you have the strength to do it and the courage to do it… and ultimately (pause) you get to like it. I know that sounds bad. Debi: You’re a psychopath. Martin: No, no, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason, I kill for money, it’s a job — that didn’t sound right. For the record, if you don’t like that movie, you’re dead to me. I lie to my wife all the time, by the way. Not in bad ways. I’ve learned to control my foul serpent’s tongue. Now I just see if I can convince her of truly egregious lies. Like, I once convinced her I was born with a tail? I know, horrible, right? But at least I’m not lying about, you know, real shit. That’s what I tell myself. You Are Wrong About Everything, Even When You’re Not We make shit up all day long, and then we must write about that made-up shit with utter authority. It is our job to write with abject confidence in the subject matter. You know in high school you’d write papers that were, as you might say, “bullshit?” And you could convince the teacher of it? Yeah. This is like that. Except we start to believe that our confidence in information extends beyond the written page. And so we frequently believe ourselves to be right. Like, beyond the pale. “Yes,” you say, “I’m sure that the guy who played on the show, Frasier, is Lee Marvin’s son.” “He’s not.” “No, no, it’s true. I’m sure of it.” “I really don’t think that’s right…” “WELL YOU’RE STUPID AND YOUR HEAD IS STUPID. Remember how wrong you were about that thing seven weeks ago?” We like to do this. God forbid we’re actually ever right about something because dang will we hold onto that like a squirrel with a nut. “I’m right. I’m a writer. It’s even in the word. It used to be spelled R-I-G-H-T-E-R. It’s my job to know things.” No, it’s your job to make shit up and pretend it’s true. But the lines? They blur. Conflict And Misery Make For A Much Better Story! In life, we avoid conflict. In fiction, we strive for it. Except, remember how I said something about the lines blurring? Mmm. Yeah. We get to a state where escalation and drama feel normal. We work to achieve those things so diligently that it’s hard to snap out of that mode. In a fight, we’re likelier to escalate beyond the point of rationality because — hey, whoever is up there in Never-Never-Land reading this Book Of Your Life is going to appreciate your attention to these details. “Yeah,” your imaginary cosmic reader says, “now break that plate! Do it! Kick the car door and put a dent in it! Conflict! Escalation! Drama!” Of course, no such cosmic reader exists. Our lives are not big books. But don’t tell us that, or we’ll stab you in the thigh with a #2 pencil. Ich Bin Ein Puppetmeister We control our characters. Don’t believe the nonsense that we’re swept away the Muse and the characters control us. Pshhh. Naw. Nuh-uh. We’re the puppetmasters. And so in life, we get confused when we can’t control you and everyone else around us. Oh, I didn’t say we wouldn’t try, though. The Writer Is A Creepy Loner We do so well alone that we don’t always do so well with other people. If we were a dog, the warning on our kennel door would say, “Not Socialized.” Or, “Doesn’t Play Well With Others.” Or, “Will Stab You In The Thigh With A Pencil.” We don’t so much like being solitary. It’s just our natural state. So when you finally find us, we’re naked, covered in our own filth, picking bits of ham and apple pie crust out of our chest hairs. We are basically some genetic combination between “earthworm” and “Bigfoot.” Bigworm. Or Earthfoot. Snuggle Up With Mental Illness When writing, a little dab of mental illness is a feature, not a bug. Our obsessions and neuroses drive us to the word count with the verve and tenacity of a crack-addled howler monkey. Our depressive tendencies, provided they allow us to get out of bed, show us a broken world, and as noted, a broken world is particularly good for our fiction. Our Narcissism and megalomania helps us get through the day by convincing us we’re actually really awesome at this, yeah, fuck yeah, woooo, and then those depressive tendencies kick in again and bring us back to earth and drive us to improve, improve, improve our shit-ass-crap-twat writing. We’re like addicts, pinballing back and forth between uppers and downers, smart drugs and hallucinogens. Thing is, when not writing, a little dab of mental illness is a big ol’ bug and not much of a feature (outside our ability to entertain others with our misery and melodrama). Like A Photograph, We Will Steal Your Souls Just as we are liars, we are also thieves. Your life is our fiction. Oh, no, we don’t steal it on purpose. As noted: we have compulsions. That whole write-what-you-know thing? It’s not advice. It’s a curse. Don’t worry. We won’t use your soul exactly as it has been taken. We’ll fuck with it first. Molest it with our greasy ham-hands. Of course, you’ll be reading something and say, “Is that me?” And the writer will say, “No, no, of course not.” Because the writer is a stinky poo-poo liar who fucking lies. Our Writing Is A Temple: Do Not Defile It Lest You Rouse The Anger Of The Gods We elevate our writing to sacred cosmic necessity. If you befoul the temple with your distraction — even if that distraction is, say, “Hey, I’m being eaten to death by mice over here, so if you could maybe kick a few of these guys off of me?” — you will earn our wrath. “No, I cannot help you with your bullshit flesh-eating mouse problem I TOLD YOU I WAS WRITING JESUS CHRIST YOU DON’T RESPECT ME.” Last But Not Least, We’ll Try To Force You To Read Our Shit “Here,” we’ll say, dropping a 50-lb. manuscript in your lap. “It’s my masterpiece.” “Okay,” you’ll respond. “Read it.” “It’s awfully big.” “Yeah, but read it anyway.” “Okay. I have some things to take care of first like, say, getting these mice to stop boring holes in my flesh.” “Sweet.” Two days later, we return: “Did you read it?” “OW THE MICE ARE IN MY BRAIN” “I guess that’s a no.” <– insert disappointed pout. “CHEWING MY SYNAPSES” “Pshh. You don’t respect me and my work.” Then we storm out. (It’s Not All That Bad) Okay, yeah, we’re sort of apeshit moonbat, but once we become aware of our, umm, danger signs, we can mitigate our worst behaviors. But still, let this serve as a warning. Writers sometimes seem brightly colored and fascinating, but really, those are just nature’s way of warning you off. We’re like tropical toads. Oh so pretty! Want to touch the toady! Except: poisonous skin that kills with one touch. Beware of writer.