Dont expect it.

I need to be obsessively committed to a writing project or it'll take forever to finish. And here it is, October. Which means there's something else to consider.

NaNoWriMo.

If you don't know about it, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. I believe this is its tenth year. Its purpose is to encourage folks to write their asses off in November with the goal of having a 50,000 novel at the other end. You're supposed to just write write write every day to meet your word count, without stressing over how good it is or if you're choosing the right word or any self-editing. Editing will come in after November, when you can revisit the raw material you've produced and polish it up.

I've never taken part in NaNoWriMo, but always been interested and had decided to do it this year. I'm usually a relentless polisher of my stuff as I write, but when I let myself go and write just to write, I'm usually pleased with the results. I wrote Frogs of Doom that way deliberately, trying for that manic production push the pulp writers used, and it resulted in my first book sale. I'm thinking I need to make speedy, non-meticulous writing a habit.

My twelve year old son is going to be taking part in the NaNoWriMo Young Writers Program, and is really excited about it. It's going to be a great activity we can do together, intensely, for a month. I'm looking forward to it too.

If you're interested in finding out more, go to http://www.nanowrimo.org. There are forums and widgets and all sorts of support material there, all aimed at motivating writers and allowing an online community to form. I'm gonna be there under the username outlawmoon. Maybe I'll see you there.

Aphrodite: Depends on whom you ask.

Bertram: I'm asking you.

Aphrodite: I am Aphrodite, Goddess of love.

Bertram: What would others call you?

Aphrodite: Sherry called me Star, thinking she could just make up a name for me.

Bertram: Why didn't you tell her your name was Aphrodite?

Aphrodite: When I tried to talk, she couldn't hear me. It was very frustrating.

Bertram: She couldn't hear you? You were quiet?

Aphrodite: Idiot, no! She physically couldn't hear me. The words were coming out of my mouth and she looked at me as if it was my problem?

Bertram: Okay you rude goddess, what is your role in Sherry's story?

Aphrodite: If I still had my powers, you'd be a frog right now. I, of course, had to fix her little love life. How was I supposed to know she was his true love?

Bertram: Sherry was whose true love?

Aphrodite: Lysander's, of course. The Eros family line. Don't you understand anything?

Bertram: I understand that talking to you is like talking to a stubborn mule. Let's take this one step at a time. Who is Lysander?

Aphrodite: Lysander was the last male born to the Eros family line.

Bertram: Good, now we are getting somewhere. So, you made a love match of Sherry and Lysander since you are the goddess of Love?

Aphrodite: Not me! They did that all on their own. Well, he did that from Hades. I took away the love of Eros, God of Love, and kind of cursed the family and well...I don't want to talk about that.

Bertram: Well, please sit down and stop pacing around the room. We can talk about something else.

Aphrodite: Fine! I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Sherry, the insufferable twit.

Bertram: So what did you do to the Eros family?

Aphrodite: You said we wouldn't talk about that.

Bertram: I didn't know the Goddess of Love could shoot flames from her eyes. So, what would you like to talk about?

Aphrodite: I thought I was here to talk about me, not them!

Bertram: If you don't want to talk about their love life, how about yours?

Aphrodite: I have no love life since Eros put me in that stupid box. He really is a hot head you know.

Bertram: You're calling him a hothead? I mean, so... why did he put you in a box?

Aphrodite: I said I don't want to discuss that. I'm done.

Bertram: Where did she go? She just disappeared. Well, I guess this interview is over. Note to self: remove Sherry Duncan and Suzette Vaughn off my Christmas list for this.

Eros: Thank Zeus she's gone, Miss...Miss, please snap out of it.

Bertram: Oh my, it's warm in here. I'm feeling a little dizzy.

Eros: I get that all of the time. You'll be fine in a moment.

Bertram: You promise? I'd like to know how you're going to make it fine?

Eros: Stay on task now Miss...you were asking about Sherry and Xander?

Bertram: Ohh yes, those people. Okay, Sherry and Lysander, but first, please tell me your name? You look like a god.

Eros: I am a god. You want an interview do you not?

Bertram: Interview? I can think of better things to do with our time together. Sorry. You're a little distracting. Was that your girlfriend that just poofed out of here?

Eros: My ex by about three millennia.

Bertram: So you're single?

Eros: Yes my dear, I am, but we are not here for me, are we?

Bertram: We can be.

Eros: I am getting nowhere here.

Bertram: You could be.

Eros: Now listen here. I came to talk to you, not for you to be looking at me like that.

Bertram: How could you love that vicious Goddess? Sorry, I mean, how did she get out of the box? And is there a way we can put her back in... forever?

Eros: I could put her back but she is serving a new purpose. Xander let her out, he figured out the riddle to the box, so he was the one to break the curse.

Bertram: So that's where Sherry comes in? She had to put her back?

Eros: Well the way it was supposed to go, Aphrodite was to find Sherry and lead her to Xander. But there were... complications, and well...Xander ended up in Hades.

Bertram: Aphrodite sent him there didn't she, that bit.. er.. bites. That bites.

Eros: Well in a way, yes, and then it was up to Sherry to bring him back

Bertram: How did Sherry get him out?

Eros: She had to figure out how to open the box herself.

Bertram: Did she shove Aphrodite in it when she got it open?

Eros: No, she got her second chance with Xander, which we all should know, second chances at love don't always happen, and still the story didn't end there. For once Aphrodite was smart and stayed far away.

Bertram: Anything else you want to tell me, perhaps over dinner?

Eros: And drinks. Have you ever seen Mount Olympus in the fall?

Mortals, Gods, and a Muse written by Suzette Vaughn

Check out this great resource for independent writers and fans of independent literature. Have an independently produced book, cd or any other kind of media? Then this is the place you need to be.

Click the image to go to the site

Go and check out my friend R. Monaleza's newly redesigned site. For everyone who is into spoken word, poetry, fiction, anything creative to do with the written word this is the place to be.

Poephics

1. Teaching Connotation and Denotation (and its follow up post and some poems to use)

2. Using the movie The Matrix in Class

3. Discussions Using the Fish Bowl

4. Do Teachers Create Student Failures?

5. Make-up Work and Absences

6. Standards-Based Grading (and its follow up)

7. The Purpose of Assessment

8. A Fun Game for the Classroom

9.Tracking Themes in Literature

10. Teacher Websites

And on a humorous note: My Snark is Prepared

Listen, listen. It was in a bar. I don't remember. With Charlene and Mickie. You know them. Yes, you do.

The big blond and her skinny friend. Yea, they're gay. So what? Come on! I'm trying to tell you.

Listen - I'm in a bar with Mickie and Charlene.

What? I don't know, the little black strapless. It is not too short. You can't see that, I always keep my legs crossed when I'm wearing it.

Anyway, will you listen? I'm in this bar, we're drinking Curacao Martinis - bright blue. Lights are flashing and I can't hear anything but loud.

I look across the room. I see this guy. He is staring at me. I swear his eyes are like glowing. Yea, to die. Serious. Better hair than McDreamy.

I know it sounds weird, but I could feel his hand running up and down my arm even though he wasn't any place near me. Like a psychic thing.

 It wasn't creepy, it was cool.

We walk toward each other. Two beasts of prey on the prowl.

Suddenly he is right in front of me. We start talking. He is so intelligent, so witty, so humble about it.

Can you believe it? A perfect man in New York? I know! I almost wet my pants.

He takes my hand and we go on to the floor. First slow dance of the night.

Within seconds my crotch is glued to his box. Yea, right there in front of everybody. Listen. I'm telling you.

We gyrate around the floor, like a machine with only one moving part. I'm sweaty and dizzy. I give him a wink. We leave out the back door.

A cab pulls up. We jump in. I attack his lips. Kissing like mad for thirty blocks.

I don't remember telling the taxi where to go but we stop in front of my apartment building. Seemed like we flew up the seven flights. 

Barely in the front door, I rip his shirt, chewing off a couple buttons in the process. It's true! I'm that turned on! Who is telling this story?

 Mom! Shut up!

His jeans drop down. He is wearing a thong. I go insane!

I yell - in me in me in me! now now now!

He grabs my butt and hoists me to him. 

I climb like he's monkey bars, legs around his waist, fumbling to get our gonads together.

He breathes in my ear - My cock is a broad tongue, parting your lips.

I moan and drool from both ends. Out of control.

He pants - My cock is a hand reaching inside.

I scream long wails. We shuttle faster than an express train.

He shouts - My cock is a creature with desire for you.

That did it! I blew up! Exploding in all directions!

I went everywhere there is! Everywhere there is!

Wow! Wow! Biggest orgasm of my life!

 His eyes surface through the blur.

I look down.

His cock is a long wriggling platypus in a condom.

Oh my God, I just fucked an alien!

Then I woke up.

thecodifyer

(c)

2008

LEAF-PEEPING: Autumn Leaves

     “Are you going to peek at the fall leaves?”
     This was the first question most persons asked when they learned my husband Monte and I were traveling to New England in September.
     “No,” was my response. “I can see fall leaves just sitting on my patio at home. Why would I travel so far just to leaf-peep?”
     Actually, we traveled from Newport, Rhode Island to Frenchman Bay, Maine to do research, visit with friends and family, resolve issues in three cemeteries, and, finally, just to “vacate.” We---or rather I, who grew up on Seabrook, Hampton, Wallis Sands, and York beaches---thoroughly enjoyed just sitting on the rocks and reflecting on the water, photographing beach scenes, and dodging or body-surfing waves high-surf waves. Leaf-peeping just wasn’t high on my agenda.
     Traveling into Downeast Maine, and later, driving through the Green Mountains and White Mountains at the end of September as we returned home, we enjoyed being among the earliest leaf-peepers. I took numerous photos of gold and red-leafed trees while driving along the road (the sports setting on my camera allows me to take good photos out the car window as we are moving), each time laughingly saying to my husband that these photos were to appease those persons who asked the fall-leaf question. (see photo at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/carolyncholland/2945458299/ )
     It’s now mid-October in Southwestern, Pennsylvania. I just participated in Ligonier Days, an annual weekend of crafts, parades, and other activities. This year the theme was the 250th anniversary of Ligonier Valley, and our writers group published a commemorative booklet in the area’s honor. I sat at a table outside a local bookstore for several hours during the weekend. There was beautiful weather, and the leaves were spectacular, coloring the hills and roadsides in gold, bronze, red and yellows, all accented by the evergreens growing alongside the leafy trees.

(see photos at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/carolyncholland/2946321642/in/photostream/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/carolyncholland/2946321142/in/photostream/)
     As I took time to practice photographing them with my new camera, I thought about how the presence of chlorophyll camouflaged the brilliant colors, keeping them green all summer. When the chlorophyll no longer is produced, the true colors burst through, revealing their true identity, which is considered far more attractive to many persons, as evidenced by the number of persons who travel miles to leaf-peep at fall leaves. Does anyone ever travel those distances to peep at the summer’s highly productive, but somewhat dull, green leaves?
     My musings continued, and I thought about how many persons camouflage themselves with acceptable behavior. But when their “chlorophyll” disappears, their behavior becomes more colorful. For example, how much attention does the “good” behavior bring, while the worst behavior brings plenty of attention? Yet, when the colorful behavior happens, the person ultimately “falls,” like the leaf that falls off the tree after it shows its true colors.
     As a writer, we know that the “green,” though nice and pleasant, is not where the story is. Our readers require the “color” of conflict. Green just doesn’t cut it. The more color the better---and when the leaves fall, let the wind gusts whip them about, rather than letting them float softly to the ground. It will keep the attention of the readers.
     The season of color will pass, winter is coming fast. But for these few weeks, please, along with me, photograph nature’s leaf pallet if you can, write about it if you will, but please, at the very least, enjoy peeping at it---wherever you are…

ADDITIONAL READING:

QUINTESSENCE

OF FIREFLIES AND LIGHTNING BUGS

BLACK FLIES AND OTHER INSECTS: Then and Now

WATCHING CORN GROW

FERAL BIRDS: THE LATEST COMMUNITY HAZARD

A KUDZU COVERED VEHICLE GRAVEYARD

A DOVE STORY RETOLD: JASMINE AND JEWEL

BEAR CONFRONTATIONS: SAFETY PRECAUTIONS

WHAT ARE THOSE NUMBERS IN MY CAMERA VIEWFINDER?

WHAT DO YOU SEE THROUGH YOUR CAMERA LENS?

USING A NEW CAMERA WHILE TRAVELING

As I mentioned in an earlier post, NaNoWriMo is quickly approaching. For those of you that don't already know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, and consists of writing a 50,000+ word novel in an insane 30 days. It's an incredible amount of fun. If you've never tried it before, I suggest you give it a shot this year. You can sign up or learn more here.

Anyway, sometimes it can be difficult to get into the writing mindset and really let the creative juices flow, especially if your time is otherwise occupied by more stressful activities such as working, taking care of kids, or other day to day tasks. I've noticed that many things can help me relax and get in the right frame of mind so that ideas come to me more readily, and you might find some of them helpful, as well. Anyway, here they are--51 Ways to Jumpstart Your Creativity:

1. People watch.
2. Read a book.
3. Blog.
4. Take a nature walk.
5. Snuggle with your sweetie.
6. Try a new recipe.
7. Learn about a new place you'd like to visit.
8. Window shop.
9. Finger paint.
10. Rearrange your writing space.
11. Knock out chores on your to-do list.
12. Tell your kids a ghost story.
13. Call a friend for a chat.
14. Meditate.
15. Listen to music.
16. Take a new route home from work.
17. Start a journal.
18. Take an afternoon nap.
19. Make an ice cream sundae.
20. Exercise.
21. Turn off the t.v.
22. Talk to your cats.
23. Cuddle with your dog.
24. Light aromatic candles.
25. Play twenty questions with yourself.
26. Pretend you're a historical figure and take a personality quiz.
27. Interview yourself for an imaginary newspaper.
28. Start a dream diary.
29. Drink good tea.
30. Go on a photo safari in your back yard.
31. Read poetry.
32. Go to a museum or art gallery.
33. Adopt a houseplant.
34. Pick a random picture and write 100 words about it.
35. Join a '100 Theme' challenge.
36. Find a writer's group.
37. Take your notebook or laptop to your favorite restuarant/coffee house.
38. Explore your local Main Street.
39. Research your family tree.
40. Write flash fiction.
41. Send your favorite celebrity fan mail.
42. Take a bubble bath.
43. Get a massage.
44. Buy a good pen.
45. Designate a 'writing uniform' and wear it.
46. Keep an idea book.
47. Pick a theme song.
48. Research another culture.
49. Keep fresh fruits and veggies in your fridge.
50. Get plenty of rest.
51. Just write.

How can we be so sure games can educate children? We recently finished work on a serious game aimed at students and received the first testing report.  The players not only enjoyed the gameplay, they quickly began to identify with the characters, to explore their relationships, and to understand the complex issues the character were supposed to represent.  Based on this test, the developers were confident the game achieved their educational goals. And how did the students react to learning through a game? One student said "This is like the best day I've ever had in this class." Now what's so wrong with making learning fun?

Besides the serious games genre, games in general have the opportunity to provide "serious" fun. Games, such as Brain Spa, can help the elderly "exercise" their brains, keeping them sharp. Some games also provide a meditative effect, creating calm and a way to recharge, according to Nicole Lazzaro. Games may have even more unexplored benefits. Could games like THE WITCHER help players explore and identify their own sense of ethics in a safe environment?

Clearly games have more to offer than a few hours of mindless entertainment. I'm sure Obama didn't realize these benefits when he spoke today, but we hope he will next time. Who knows, maybe the next presidential candidates will offer games on their sites to educate voters on their position. What do you think?

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Night fell around us very quickly. It made the path appear to go on forever. We stumbled our way towards a large cavern, which stood out of the formless dark. Orange-red light flickered around its edges and gave it a blurry glow.

" Almost there," I muttered, half asleep. Holding on to the torchlight the Master held in his hand. Almost there...

Neven Neven - where ish thee?

I skipped a step and staggered towards the edge, almost knocking Kalia over. Somehow, my feet managed to stray back to the path and stay with it. I suspected Edde had something to do with that.

The path finally ended. The cavern was something else; it was more of a prism shaped castle. Light bounced off silver flecks in the its dark walls and highlighted steps that were cut into it. I noticed the steps went inwards at a slanted angle and became smaller towards the top. At the bottom level, in the center were two granite columns with orange fire burning from the tops. Between them was a intricately designed iron door. Light showed tarnished streaks across the door's surface and played over a brass handle shaped as a lion's head.

We stood before the door. Master Asuras lifted the lion's head and released it. It fell into position with a dull clang, the door opened with an awkward grind.

A slave boy, about my age, greeted us. "Yes Master?" the boy said, his annoyance at our late intrusion obvious.

"Master Dagor is expecting us," Master Asuras announced.

The boy nodded his head and allowed us to enter.

We stepped into a spacious, square foyer. Animal statues of smooth white marble filled the corners and sides of the room. I passed a statue of a bird creature with feathered wings spread wide, sharp beak open and hawk eyes bulging as if with fright. The one next to it glared at us with cat like eyes and a spotted skinny body ready to pounce.

"Strange place," I whispered absentmindedly and was glad my voice had absorbed into the sound of our shuffles along polished floors before anyone noticed.

We followed the Slave Boy towards a sackcloth door and entered a hallway which was patterned with black and white diamond floors, and walls decorated with silver sconces between gold gilded frames and polished symbols bearing homage to the Emperor. He led us straight and right for a long time before we ended at a short corridor and a silver studded door. He knocked three times then bade us good night and made his way back up the corridor.

Things that probably happened to me at least once since I last posted:

1.  A squirrel behaved strangely in my presence.

2.  I injured myself in the kitchen while trying to cook something disgusting using too few ingredients and none of the proper utensils.

(2.5.  I tried to eat the product of this fiasco, decided not to, put it in the fridge in the pan I cooked it in, and left it there until it was so out-of-the-question that I considered throwing out the whole works and just buying a new sauce pan.)

3.  My disrespect for someone in authority reared its ugly, sarcastic head.

4.  I witnessed shockingly bad behavior on the city bus and could not decide if I was horrified, amused, or sympathetic.

5.  Someone who did not know me very well tried to hug me.  Oh the awkwardness...

Right now I'm feeling cocky because I got all my home computers networked.  But I still haven't figured out how to use the CD drive in one computer to get info to another (the aspire one has no drives . . . it's a little thing).

Geek love.

Before sunrise hits home

And breaks the windows

All scattered like pieces

Of a fallen puzzle

Off the table of life.

No need to follow another’s advice
Reach within, find the calm, feel, learn
Your body and mind become one
Hear the silence, find the peace hidden deep
Listen, and with the silence you hear the voice
Begin to understand the unity of all things

Feel the bond, connection, threads leading to all
See the manifestations of your true self
The origin, the beauty, expression without word
In this, the fullness and unity of the one
Your own life’s breath, in for self, out to share
A circle, blessed and complete

An avatar of wisdom, the ultimate truth of the one
Within you, yourself, a mirror reflecting all
Absolute truth within, tying to all creation
Sojourner of this journey, this path we all share
You discover this treasure, this wisdom long sought
And in turn, learn the final piece of the mystery

The searching over, the meaning now clear
This simple gift, leading to happiness and peace
And in sharing it with you, another circle complete…

Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre July 15th, 2008

The forty-nine poems in this collection attempt to articulate the sublime, subversive, and stillness within the large rooms of the family house, along the light and dark shades of human souls and the shape of the animus within our dreams. Where and when are we awake? Which pictures that compose our lives are true? What goes on behind the cracks we gaze at in each other’s faces, and how do we read the light that seeps through those other cracks in each other’s ceilings? Each poem should leave an etching of images on the mind of the reader, suggest an angle of approach or interpretation not found in geometry, or find a weak chink in our social armor that when gnawed or broken open, might let us exhale.

Here's an excerpt from the book by Jonathan Gans:

Xlibris Publishing Guide - Get this free guide now and learn how you can self-publish your own poetry book.

Repetition of times now long forgotten.
Taking advantage is but a long extension.
Words coming full circle to actions now past.
Time significant only as to the loss of moments.
In the touch of a final kiss, thus sealed in death.
This closing of our eyes, beginning a spiritual forever.

One step, the journey begins...

Steve 'Easy' Whitacre Sept. 8th, 2008

messed around with the American public. Speak your mind and give your points

of view.. PERIOD!!   I thought it was great. McCain had Obama

on many points and vice versa. The only thing is.... McCain did NOT give enough

(IMHO) points on why Palin is qualified to be VICE PRESIDENT of our UNITED STATES.

I think Palin was the wrong choice for McCain to make and she would not

be as qualified as JOE BIDEN is. SO

WHAT DID YOU THINK?? DID YOU WATCH??

Let me answer all the questions I have asked with my own personal experinces. The draft of this article for example, could have been done on Microsoft Word, instead of writing it out in a journal and then typing it out again. Maybe the actual reason to why I prefer this method cannot be explained. To me, having a journal is like having a safe place where all raw thoughts are contained before they are exposed for everyone to see. In my journal, I can doodle in the free space that I have between words, I can write as fast as I can and not worry about what people would think about my handwriting; I can write whatever I want to, whatever comes to mind at first.

Personally, even though I might have online outlets to place thoughts, stories, quotes and everything else that I might want to write, whatever I put there is usually the final draft of it. Having a journal enables me to look back on all the different drafts I had before i reached that final one. Even though I might not have used the earlier drafts, when I look through older works, I can actually find inspiration from there to create newer things at a totally different time.

Having a journal also helps in showing how much we have grown over time. Things that one put put in a journal three years ago might make him or her laugh during his or her present age. Journalling is also a great way to record a person's personal history.

In my journal, I love to write down quotes from different people, songs, movies and so on and so forth. Looking back at things that inspire me can create works of my own.

I have to admit that sometimes I have a journal for superficial reasons. I could write on anything, any paper but I choose to writw in a journal because it's always a good feeling to write in things that are pleasing to the eyes. I buy notebooks and journals even when I don't have the need for them, yet I just know that someday they would be used because I am not one who would put a good notebook or journal to waste.

I have been writing since I can remember and over the years, I have had a journal to reflect on everyday life, one for the books I read, one to reflect on my writing, one to reflect on movies that I watch, one for story ideas, though lately, I have combined everything in one. I still have a seperate journal to record down the tittles of books that I have read and also reflected on them. I guess that I still keep that seperate because I read nearly as much as I write, so keeping it seperate enables me to have more outlets to reflect and write.

Having a journal, is good for reflection because everything that is messed up in the mind can be organised into sentences, paragraphs and eventually stories. Whenever we set out to write a journal entry, unconciously, we are working on giving the proper start to that entry; teaching the writer that having an introduction, body and conclusion in a piece of writing is important.

I'm sure that many around the world share the same thoughts on having a journal and the importance of having a journal has on writing and that is why moleskins sell like hot cakes among writers and artists all around the world