Category: NaNoWriMo

Writing Inspirations – the movies, part 1

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Why I love Cactus Flower….
( 1969, screenplay by I.A.L. Diamond, adapted from the stage play by Abe Burrows. 
Starring: Goldie Hawn, Ingrin Burgman & Walter Matthau)

Because of clever dialogue like this……..
“Hey, in there!” (Banging on the door)  “Is something wrong? Hey, I smell gas!”

“Julian……”

“I’m not Julian. Wake up.”

“Julian……kiss me…..”

“Sorry, Julian, whoever you are.”

“What are you doing?”

“Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

“You were kissing me.”

“I lost my head.”

“How did you get in here? I don’t remember–“

“You left the gas on.”

“Gas? Oh…..I’m alive? I blew it! I blew it! Oh, boy, I really blew it!

“Take it easy. You’re lucky I broke in.”

“Why did you?”

“I thought you were dying.”

“Well, that was the whole idea.”
“Okay, lady, that’s the last time you catch me saving your life…..and as it happens, you were going about it all wrong. I believe you’re supposed to put your head in the stove.”
“It’s a second-hand stove–there were no directions.”

“Why did you do it? Because of Julian?”

“How do you know about Julian?”

“You called me that while you were kissing me.”

“I wasn’t kissing you, you were kissing me. And by the way…..is that all you did?”

“There wasn’t much time.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I should be grateful. What’s your name?”

“Igor Sullivan.”
“Igor Sullivan. That’s wild.”
“I made it up.”
“How come you picked Igor?”
“Igor’s my own. I made up the Sullivan. It’s a good name for a writer.”
“You’re a writer? You’re the writer! The one who keeps pounding on his typewriter all night. You drive me crazy!”
“Why didn’t you complain? I could’ve met you earlier.”

Writing Inspirations – the movies, part 1

1 Comment
Why I love Cactus Flower….
( 1969, screenplay by I.A.L. Diamond, adapted from the stage play by Abe Burrows. 
Starring: Goldie Hawn, Ingrin Burgman & Walter Matthau)

Because of clever dialogue like this……..
“Hey, in there!” (Banging on the door)  “Is something wrong? Hey, I smell gas!”

“Julian……”

“I’m not Julian. Wake up.”

“Julian……kiss me…..”

“Sorry, Julian, whoever you are.”

“What are you doing?”

“Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

“You were kissing me.”

“I lost my head.”

“How did you get in here? I don’t remember–“

“You left the gas on.”

“Gas? Oh…..I’m alive? I blew it! I blew it! Oh, boy, I really blew it!

“Take it easy. You’re lucky I broke in.”

“Why did you?”

“I thought you were dying.”

“Well, that was the whole idea.”
“Okay, lady, that’s the last time you catch me saving your life…..and as it happens, you were going about it all wrong. I believe you’re supposed to put your head in the stove.”
“It’s a second-hand stove–there were no directions.”

“Why did you do it? Because of Julian?”

“How do you know about Julian?”

“You called me that while you were kissing me.”

“I wasn’t kissing you, you were kissing me. And by the way…..is that all you did?”

“There wasn’t much time.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I should be grateful. What’s your name?”

“Igor Sullivan.”
“Igor Sullivan. That’s wild.”
“I made it up.”
“How come you picked Igor?”
“Igor’s my own. I made up the Sullivan. It’s a good name for a writer.”
“You’re a writer? You’re the writer! The one who keeps pounding on his typewriter all night. You drive me crazy!”
“Why didn’t you complain? I could’ve met you earlier.”

Writing Inspirations – food

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Why I love food
(via: tumblr)
Last night, i was so busy NaNo-ing (yes, i’m using it as a verb now) that i completely forgot to eat dinner. i don’t usually eat a proper breakfast either, so by late morning today, i was screaming-starving, generally lethargic and feeling overall uninspired about everything. 
(As a writer in the mist of an important project, this is bad news.)
And then…..my little work group decided to go out for lunch. No, i did not eat a purple cupcake for lunch, but what i did have fueled both body and mind. 
(PS: We tried a new burger place around the corner that had some major killer sweet potato fries.)
And now, thanks to the jolly sustenance, i am so excited to get home, slide in front of my laptop, and see what fun-ness my characters can get themselves into!

Writing Inspirations – food

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Why I love food
(via: tumblr)
Last night, i was so busy NaNo-ing (yes, i’m using it as a verb now) that i completely forgot to eat dinner. i don’t usually eat a proper breakfast either, so by late morning today, i was screaming-starving, generally lethargic and feeling overall uninspired about everything. 
(As a writer in the mist of an important project, this is bad news.)
And then…..my little work group decided to go out for lunch. No, i did not eat a purple cupcake for lunch, but what i did have fueled both body and mind. 
(PS: We tried a new burger place around the corner that had some major killer sweet potato fries.)
And now, thanks to the jolly sustenance, i am so excited to get home, slide in front of my laptop, and see what fun-ness my characters can get themselves into!

Writing Inspirations – Running

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Why I love running….
For obvious reasons (naughty NaNo) I’ve been living almost exclusively in my head lately. Even as busy as work gets, my head is still wrapped around my story…..ever plotting away. 
I’m a pretty consistent (though not over-enthusiastic) exerciser. First thing I do when I get home is pull on the workout clothes. Last week (for that above, obvious reason), my daily workouts were down to zero. I planned on this, because I needed to really focus on word-count. And since I’m all nice and ahead now, last night, the running shoes came out from the back of the closet, and I hit the trail.
Let me tell you why I love running so much (when I don’t hate it). 
1) It feels good, physically and mentally. And I’m all about things that make me feel good. The knowledge that my muscles are working properly, and with my ponytail slapping rhythmically against my neck. That’s “good” to the extreme. 

2)  For me, there’s a sense of accomplishment when I make it to “that tree,” or across “that bridge.” It’s a way of pushing myself toward something that takes great effort. And even if it’s in the form of a side cramp or breathing too hard, the rewards always come. 
3) Most of the time, when I allow myself to get into “the zone,” there is nothing more I can focus on than simply staying upright. I have to stop planning, over-thinking, and making lists in my head. Because…..my lungs are burning, my legs are aching and all I want to do is dive off the path and on to that nice, soft grass for a rest. But those few (semi-painful, albeit) moments with a clear head can do wonders when it’s time to think again.
4) Thinking. I do some of my best thinking when I run. The only problem with that is–by the time I’m home–I sometimes forget the brilliance I’ve just conjured up. My iPod shuffle doesn’t  have one of those voice-activated recorder thing. Maybe I need to invest in one. Merry Christmas to Mary, maybe?
Yes, I woke up a little sore this morning, and yes, while planning my day, the LAST thing I want to do is go for a run tonight. But I know that will change. I guess I can always pray for rain….. 

During last night’s run, while in my good thinking mode, I mentally wrote a new scene while my iPod blasted this song.
(And let’s just say…they’re not sittin’ in church…) 

Writing Inspirations – Running

Leave a comment
Why I love running….
For obvious reasons (naughty NaNo) I’ve been living almost exclusively in my head lately. Even as busy as work gets, my head is still wrapped around my story…..ever plotting away. 
I’m a pretty consistent (though not over-enthusiastic) exerciser. First thing I do when I get home is pull on the workout clothes. Last week (for that above, obvious reason), my daily workouts were down to zero. I planned on this, because I needed to really focus on word-count. And since I’m all nice and ahead now, last night, the running shoes came out from the back of the closet, and I hit the trail.
Let me tell you why I love running so much (when I don’t hate it). 
1) It feels good, physically and mentally. And I’m all about things that make me feel good. The knowledge that my muscles are working properly, and with my ponytail slapping rhythmically against my neck. That’s “good” to the extreme. 

2)  For me, there’s a sense of accomplishment when I make it to “that tree,” or across “that bridge.” It’s a way of pushing myself toward something that takes great effort. And even if it’s in the form of a side cramp or breathing too hard, the rewards always come. 
3) Most of the time, when I allow myself to get into “the zone,” there is nothing more I can focus on than simply staying upright. I have to stop planning, over-thinking, and making lists in my head. Because…..my lungs are burning, my legs are aching and all I want to do is dive off the path and on to that nice, soft grass for a rest. But those few (semi-painful, albeit) moments with a clear head can do wonders when it’s time to think again.
4) Thinking. I do some of my best thinking when I run. The only problem with that is–by the time I’m home–I sometimes forget the brilliance I’ve just conjured up. My iPod shuffle doesn’t  have one of those voice-activated recorder thing. Maybe I need to invest in one. Merry Christmas to Mary, maybe?
Yes, I woke up a little sore this morning, and yes, while planning my day, the LAST thing I want to do is go for a run tonight. But I know that will change. I guess I can always pray for rain….. 

During last night’s run, while in my good thinking mode, I mentally wrote a new scene while my iPod blasted this song.
(And let’s just say…they’re not sittin’ in church…) 

Writing Inspirations – Marian Keyes

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With Day #1 of NaNoWriMo in the can (5263 words. Thank you, fans),  my moist, excited and spongy brain can’t help but keep recalling and drawing upon some of my favorite novel passages, moving song lyrics, and clever turns-of-phrase (or is it turn-of-phrases? I don’t know, I’m still rather brain-fried.)
Marian Keyes is a writing hero of mine. Through her books, she shows  how a story can be depressing, heartbreaking and just plain tragic, yet warm, light and hilarious at the same time. Quite a skill. Parts of her novels can sometimes be a beating, but I always laugh, usually cry, without exception discuss it in detail with other MK fans and take careful notes.

Here is a passage I’ve loved for years, and one I share with friends pretty often, because the term “Feathery Stroker” has been part of my vernacular since the first time I read Anybody Out There?

“Jacqui’s Feathery Stroker test is a horribly cruel assessment that she brings to bear on all men. It originated with some man she had slept with years ago. All night long he’d run his hands up and down her body in the lightest, feathery way, up her back, along her thighs, across her stomach….And so the phrase came about. It suggested an effeminate quality which immediately stripped a man of all sex appeal….Far better, in Jacqui’s opinion, to be a drunken wife-beater in a dirty vest than a Feathery Stroker.
            Her criteria were wide and merciless—and distressingly random. There was no definitive list but here are some examples. Men who didn’t eat red meat were Feathery Strokers. Men who used post-shave balm instead of slapping stinging aftershave onto their tender skin were Feathery Strokers. Men who noticed your shoes and handbags were Feathery Strokers. Men who said pornography was exploitation of women were Feathery Strokers. (Or liars.) Men who said pornography was exploitation of men as much as women were off the scale. All straight men from San Francisco were Feathery Strokers. All academics with beards were Feathery Strokers. Men who stayed friends with their ex-girlfriends were Feathery Strokers. Especially if they call their ex-girlfriend their “ex-partner.” Men who did Pilates were Feathery Strokers. Men who said, “I have to take care of myself right now” were screaming Feathery Strokers. (Even I’d go along with that.)
            The Feathery Strokers rules had complex variations and subsections: men who gave up their seat on the subway were Feathery Strokers—if they smile at you. But if they grunted “Seat,” in a macho, non-eye-contact way, they were in the clear.
            Meanwhile, new categories and subsection were being added all the time. She’d once decided that a man—who up until that point had been perfectly acceptable—was a Feathery Strokers for saying the word groceries. And some of her decrees seemed downright unreasonable—men who helped you look for lost things were Feathery Strokers, whereas no one but extreme Feathery Stroker purists could deny that it was a handy quality for a man to have.
            Funnily enough, even though Jacqui fancied Luke something ferocious, I suspected he was a Feathery Stroker. He didn’t look like one, he looked like a tough, hard man. But beneath his leather trousers and set jaw he was kind and thoughtful—sensitive, even. And sensitivity is the FS’s defining quality, his core characteristic.”

Writing Inspirations – Marian Keyes

Leave a comment
With Day #1 of NaNoWriMo in the can (5263 words. Thank you, fans),  my moist, excited and spongy brain can’t help but keep recalling and drawing upon some of my favorite novel passages, moving song lyrics, and clever turns-of-phrase (or is it turn-of-phrases? I don’t know, I’m still rather brain-fried.)
Marian Keyes is a writing hero of mine. Through her books, she shows  how a story can be depressing, heartbreaking and just plain tragic, yet warm, light and hilarious at the same time. Quite a skill. Parts of her novels can sometimes be a beating, but I always laugh, usually cry, without exception discuss it in detail with other MK fans and take careful notes.

Here is a passage I’ve loved for years, and one I share with friends pretty often, because the term “Feathery Stroker” has been part of my vernacular since the first time I read Anybody Out There?

“Jacqui’s Feathery Stroker test is a horribly cruel assessment that she brings to bear on all men. It originated with some man she had slept with years ago. All night long he’d run his hands up and down her body in the lightest, feathery way, up her back, along her thighs, across her stomach….And so the phrase came about. It suggested an effeminate quality which immediately stripped a man of all sex appeal….Far better, in Jacqui’s opinion, to be a drunken wife-beater in a dirty vest than a Feathery Stroker.
            Her criteria were wide and merciless—and distressingly random. There was no definitive list but here are some examples. Men who didn’t eat red meat were Feathery Strokers. Men who used post-shave balm instead of slapping stinging aftershave onto their tender skin were Feathery Strokers. Men who noticed your shoes and handbags were Feathery Strokers. Men who said pornography was exploitation of women were Feathery Strokers. (Or liars.) Men who said pornography was exploitation of men as much as women were off the scale. All straight men from San Francisco were Feathery Strokers. All academics with beards were Feathery Strokers. Men who stayed friends with their ex-girlfriends were Feathery Strokers. Especially if they call their ex-girlfriend their “ex-partner.” Men who did Pilates were Feathery Strokers. Men who said, “I have to take care of myself right now” were screaming Feathery Strokers. (Even I’d go along with that.)
            The Feathery Strokers rules had complex variations and subsections: men who gave up their seat on the subway were Feathery Strokers—if they smile at you. But if they grunted “Seat,” in a macho, non-eye-contact way, they were in the clear.
            Meanwhile, new categories and subsection were being added all the time. She’d once decided that a man—who up until that point had been perfectly acceptable—was a Feathery Strokers for saying the word groceries. And some of her decrees seemed downright unreasonable—men who helped you look for lost things were Feathery Strokers, whereas no one but extreme Feathery Stroker purists could deny that it was a handy quality for a man to have.
            Funnily enough, even though Jacqui fancied Luke something ferocious, I suspected he was a Feathery Stroker. He didn’t look like one, he looked like a tough, hard man. But beneath his leather trousers and set jaw he was kind and thoughtful—sensitive, even. And sensitivity is the FS’s defining quality, his core characteristic.”

Remember to Suck

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With the commencement of NaNoWriMo staring me down like a double barrel shotgun (One Day More!), I’ve tried to do everything humanly possible to prepare. This weekend, for example, I…
1) cut off my nails
2) made a gallon of taco soup
3) sent an email to my family, basically saying good-bye for a month
4) mapped out the quickest route to Sonic
5) returned 10 library books
6) caught up on my DVR (farewell, old friend!)

Here is some recent advise on how to make my goal of 50,000 words (1600+ a day):
“You can always fix a bad page, but you can’t fix a blank one.”

“Sure, your internal editor is having an aneurysm right now. That’s okay. You never liked her anyway.”

“Remember to suck.”
(No worries there, mate.)

Remember to Suck

Leave a comment
With the commencement of NaNoWriMo staring me down like a double barrel shotgun (One Day More!), I’ve tried to do everything humanly possible to prepare. This weekend, for example, I…
1) cut off my nails
2) made a gallon of taco soup
3) sent an email to my family, basically saying good-bye for a month
4) mapped out the quickest route to Sonic
5) returned 10 library books
6) caught up on my DVR (farewell, old friend!)

Here is some recent advise on how to make my goal of 50,000 words (1600+ a day):
“You can always fix a bad page, but you can’t fix a blank one.”

“Sure, your internal editor is having an aneurysm right now. That’s okay. You never liked her anyway.”

“Remember to suck.”
(No worries there, mate.)