Routine
Routine is the only way I can actually manage being reliable. I’m too easily distracted to remember appointments without writing them down, or remembering to post when I’m taking a few days off from writing in the morning.
Of course, yesterday I got up at 6, showered, and went back to bed until 7, so there was no time to post in the morning. (Mainly because I stayed up late to finish reading The Alloy of Law, by Brandon Sanderson. Excellent book, by the way!)
I didn’t even think of posting at lunch, and after work was yoga, which left me too worn out to do more than eat supper and then play Sudoku on easy level until I had digested enough to go to bed without making myself sick…
Getting up early really is the key for me to getting other stuff done. And sticking to a routine is the easiest way for me to be reliable. Posting, writing, eating, working, even making sure I get enough sleep – everything can be thrown off-kilter by a single change to my routine. (In this case, taking a break from writing to read new books… and staying up late to finish one, which made me sleep late, etc.)
Does that mean I’m going to go straight back to getting up at 5 and writing every morning? Nope! I’ve got at least one more book to read before I settle down to another period of reliability. 
Failure can lead to success…
If you just keep trying, and also keep inquiring into why you failed and how you can do better at achieving your goals.
I think I’m giving up on my NaNoWriMo attempt. The story hasn’t gone anywhere I meant for it to, my characters are experts at magically defusing conflict as soon as I introduce it, and they’ve been persistently unwilling to play around in the Mistlands and discover any of its secrets.
I hate them and I want them all to die… Which could probably provide a final burst of 12,000 words by the end of the month, if 50,000 words was my real goal.
My real goal, though, is to get better as a writer, and to learn to write longer, more involved and interesting stories. Sending this one out in a blaze of unreadable glory wouldn’t serve that goal, I don’t think.
Instead, I will consign them to the lonely oblivion of the hard drive, and ponder what I did wrong before I start up another one.
I’m also going to allow myself to read a couple of novels, which I’ve been growing cranky about not reading in the past few days while I’ve been falling out of love with my story.
And I guess that’s the big problem. There’s nothing I love about this story.
I was reading another author’s post about writing 10,000 words per day, and she was saying that one of the keys was feeling enthusiastic about what she was going to write, that another was to know what she wanted to write that day, and that the third was choosing the right times to write.
I kind of wasn’t doing any of those this month. :-p
Ah well. There are definitely lessons to ponder here, and in the meantime, other people’s books to read!
Scintilla – Hunted
Anneka woke with a start from dreams of blood and terror to lie panting in the darkness, listening to the gentle sound of a child snoring.
She tried to take comfort in the closeness of other living people, but the anxiety from her dream grew instead of fading. Suddenly the makeshift shelter seemed too small, the air she shared with a dozen other sleepers too sparse. She took a deep breath and held it while she struggled to get outside without waking any of the others.
Outside, she sat gasping at the cool night air and trying not to let herself hyperventilate or cry out. Eyes wide to catch the faint moonlight, she wished for morning, or a flashlight, or even the double-edged sword of firelight.
“What’s up?”
The soft voice made her jump, but also told her where to look to catch the glint of moonlight off the sentry’s night vision goggles.
“N-n-n-nightmare,” she managed, hugging herself tight.
He grunted acknowledgement. They all had reason enough for nightmares. “Just make sure you keep it quiet,” he said. “We don’t…”
He let out a sudden, startled groan, and then his body flew apart in front of her, and the high, ululating screech of the invaders echoed through the night.
Shopping WIN!
First off, I did not go shopping yesterday, on Black Friday. I think doing so would have been mildly insane.
I went out today to get a few things I’ve been needing, and was pleased to find the stores remarkably calm. I also got lucky with the clearance racks at Kohls, where I was intending to buy some cheapo sports bras for working out, and wound up finding some high-quality sports bras (that fit!) for cheaper than the cheapo bras!
*Happy*
Scintilla – Lost
Happy Thanksgiving!
scintilla [sin-til-uh] (noun) 1. A spark; a flash; a trace amount. 2. A small piece of writing intended to inspire wonder, curiosity, or amusement.
The kitchens of the Diamont Building were a frustrating maze of automated food-preppers, serving counters, and narrow, staff-clogged pathways in between. Vervain had finally given up on finding her way out, and was now simply looking for an empty enough serving counter that jumping it and departing into the dining areas wouldn’t attract too much notice.
“I know you have DEF.”
The voice of her enemy made her spin to face him, even as his strange words short-circuited her normal panic reaction. “You think I’m deaf?” she repeated, confused.
Dammon Diamont looked heavenward as if for patience, while the people around them swiftly left the area, giving their boss’s boss’s boss privacy.
“Diamont Echo Field,” he explained, clearly impatient. “A child of five could navigate from the highest observation room to the lowest dungeon without a wrong turn. I know you have it. I made sure you knew you had it at your fraudulent entry this morning.”
“That wasn’t fraudulent! You brought me here!”
He ignored her protest. “So why are you wandering around my kitchens instead of sneaking back to my office while I was distracted and stealing back your sword?”
Vervain winced. “I’m kind of bad with directions,” she started to explain, weakly, when her brain caught up with her ears. “Wait… you wanted me to steal the sword back?”
The counter separating them from the dining area retracted, leaving her gaping at how easily she could have left if only she’d known the trick of it. Dammon grabbed her arm just above the elbow and pulled her out across the dining area, towards the wide windows.
“I wanted you to be caught stealing my property and shot dead by the police, leaving me the blameless victim until I can put my plan into motion. Now, though, I’m going to have to settle for a dramatic fight to your death on the promenade.”
He thrust her out a door onto a broad walkway that seemed vanishingly narrow without the usual safety rail at its edge. The wind whipped her hair across her face, carrying with it the faint wail of a siren from far below.
“You won’t get away with this,” Dammon shouted as he followed her, swinging a roundhouse punch at her head.
She ducked easily and retreated. “Why are you doing this?” she shouted over the wind.
He dodged, flattening himself against the wall instead of responding.
Confused, she did the same just in time for a laser blast to rip through the space she had been standing a moment before.
“You’re insane,” she said, though she didn’t bother shouting this time. Instead, she pushed off from the wall behind her into a short dash and then dove off the edge, closing her eyes and hoping that her grandmother’s stories had been right.
Excuses, excuses…
Sorry about the no post yesterday…
I completely forgot…
I might be fighting off a cold…
I didn’t even work out, let alone post…
It was a delayed reaction to the tire-related stressors of the day before…
The cat needed to be flossed…
I was feeling kind of zombific…
No, actually I was set upon by zombies…
Hordes of ‘em!
Really!
So obviously I couldn’t have been expected to remember to post yesterday. 
Best. Investment. Ever.
At least for me.
A couple of years ago, I trashed a tire and the other three were bald, and the dealership I go to was booked, so I went to Town Fair Tire on Rt. 6 in Bristol and got four new ones.
And I sprung for the road hazard insurance, which covers repairs and replacements if the sidewall is damaged.
A few months ago, I had a tire blow out on the highway, and got to replace it for $30 instead of $135, since the tire itself was covered, and I just had to pay for the rebalancing and the re-purchase of the road hazard insurance.
Today, as I was leaving work for an appointment, I slowly realized something was wrong, and then pulled over that not only did I have a flat, I had driven too much and the sidewall was damaged. Again, $35 instead of $145. (The tire price has gone up.)
My afternoon was full of fail, but it definitely had some silver speckles too.
On another note, Best. Christmas. Present. Ever. – AAA membership. Thank you, Mom & Dad!!!
Perhaps the greatest band that never was…
“Biography:”
(Being the entirely fictional biography of the half-fictional duo “The Cocksure Lads”)
YouTube clips: http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=cocksure+lads&aq=f
(Play them from the beginning, or start with “Ships Ahoy,” the first of their songs that I heard.)
Anyone who’s a fan of Murray Foster, Moxy Fruvous, or silly songs is likely to enjoy! 
Occupy Wall Street – One Woman’s Account
No, not mine – Laura Anne Gilman’s
“… The estimates I heard, by 6pm, were over 20,000 people, while some estimates (backed by police scanner reports) said close to 30,000. People coming, and going, and talking, and listening to speeches, and sharing information, keeping each other warm (the rain had stopped, but the wind had picked up). I saw parents with young children, and elderly couples. I saw people in wheelchairs, and students and union workers and people in suits, all together for one cause.
One cause. Not the scattered demands or vague wishes. One cause: Justice. Justice that is not bought by the highest bidder, but given to all citizens, on the basis of their work and their effort, their determination to succeed – to make a living for themselves and their families.
To get Wall Street out of our government, out of our courts; to return the USA to a democratic republic, not an oligarchy.“
Please go to her blog and read the whole post – it’s worth it!
© 2010 Catherine Wechsler, used with permission.
Anne McCaffrey
Anne McCaffrey, author of the Pern novels and several other series, is dead.
I’ve been thinking for a few days that I should write something, maybe include links to some of my favorite books by her.
Every time I go to start, I wind up writing about something else, though.
* * *
I’m not sure why, but when I was a kid, for some reason I assumed that all of the people who had written the books I loved were already dead.
It was somewhat disconcerting, therefore, when someone would mention that a favorite author had just died. “Weren’t they already dead?” I would wonder, generally silently.
Likewise, it was a disconcerting pleasure when I would discover, say, a new book by Robin McKinley or Anne McCaffrey or Andre Norton. “Wait, why didn’t I know about this one? It was just published this year?? But I thought she was dead!!!”
Alas, now two of those three have passed on, though I am pleased to say that Robin McKinley is still writing, and even blogging daily, long may she continue!
* * *
Anne McCaffrey was 85 when she passed away a few days ago, so perhaps it was not entirely unexpected, but I think the flip side of having started my reading life thinking all these wonderful authors were dead is that having found out many of them were still alive, I almost expect them to be immortal, as if they have truly journeyed back from death once already.
And certainly, in an entirely selfish manner, I want them to continue being alive, and sharing their wonderful stories, for as long as possible! I take comfort, though, in the fact that even once they pass on, their work lives on, letting them continue to touch and shape readers’ lives and minds indefinitely.
Perhaps it is a little bit like immortality after all…
In any case; safe journey, Dragonlady, to whatever comes next.