Happy Halloween; or, Dressing Up For The Holidays

Posted on October 31, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 31)

Yay!  I made it to Day 31 of my Post-A-Day Challenge!  Which means that come next month, we’ll be back to our usual two-or-three times a week schedule, of which one will be a Thursday NaNoWriMo update, one will be a continuation of the Dragon Friday story, and one will be a possible Monday/Tuesday posting on writing and/or general creativity.

But today is Halloween, which for Beloved Husband and me means dressing up.  Not just ourselves, but our yard.

See, we’ve got the world’s best yard for Halloween.  It’s surrounded by tall hedges, and full of trees and bushes and shrubberies and creeping vines, and grape arbors and crunchy leaves.  To all of that, we usually add a plethora of lights, a jack-o-lantern, some tombstones, and occasionally a ghost (though we didn’t get him out there this year–the kids started coming too soon after I got home from work tonight–around 5:30).  And we augment the natural spider and spiderweb population with artificial ones.  Oh, and then there’s Hedge Monster.

Hedge Monster is a little gizmo that we can tuck into one of our shrubberies and tie down with twist ties.  Then, when someone brushes up against that shrubbery, Hedge Monster growls menacingly, eyes glowing, and shakes the bushes.  And sometimes, he chuckles evilly.  He’s great.

Of course, every year, we think of all sorts of things we can do for next year…which we then forget by next year.  Like this year, when we thought, “Wouldn’t it be great to have some of those pumpkin-shaped bags to stuff some of these leaves we’re raking up into so we could decorate the yard with them?”  And then, when we went to get out our supply of treat bags and little toys (more on those in a minute), we found a good half-dozen of those leaf bags.  We’d apparently had the same great idea while we were at the post-Halloween sales last year!

One of the other things we do is to put together little treat bags.  There are a couple of reasons for this.  One is that we are carrying on my mom’s tradition.  Hers used to be really good — she’d put in a full-sized candy bar, and maybe half a dozen pixy stix, and five or six other pieces of candy besides.  She could afford to do that because they only ever got ten or fifteen trick-or-treaters at most.

Our bags of candy are less extravagant, but still decent–this year, we had one fun-sized candy bar, one non-chocolate candy (sweetarts or nerds or packets of candy corn), and one tootsie-roll variant.  Plus a little toy–stretchy rats and spiders and pumpkin-shaped erasers.  We even had a few little tubs of Play-Doh.  And they go into little plastic treat bags.  We gave away around 220 such bags this year.  That was when we ran out.  In fact, we had to scrape together the last few scraps of candy to give to our last visitor.  And then we turned out the lights and ran inside.  It was just about 9:00 pm, which is when we usually wrap things up anyway.  But that means that there was no leftover candy for us.  (Oh well.  I’m on a diet anyway.)

The other reasons for the treat bags are that it lets us control how much each kid takes (we have had kids reach in and grab huge handfuls of candy), and it lets us track how many kids we got.  Obviously, we need to plan for a few more next year.

Next year, we’re working on plans for little LED lights that can glow from in the hedges, and a plan to have the fog machine set up so fog rolls down the stairs, and maybe a way to play random sound effects from different parts of the yard.  And we need to see if we can find a second Hedge Monster….

How do other people dress up their yards for Halloween?  Do you get lots of trick-or-treaters, or only a few?  What scary surprises do you plan for them?

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It’s Almost Here; or One Day Left Until NaNoWriMo

Posted on October 31, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 30)

So earlier in the month, I posted a list of tasks I hoped to accomplish before this year’s NaNoWriMo begins on November 1.  Let’s see how I did:

1)  Installing New Keyboard.  Status:  WIN!  Got that one done fairly early on, in fact.  One ergo-keyboard with non-broken feet, now installed.

2) Prepping The Playlist.  Status:  WIN!  2,500+ song playlist is complete.  Some pruning will probably occur.  But for now, I’m good to go.

3) Making Userpics.  Status:  WIN!  Though I still need to upload said userpics to LiveJournal.  And I wouldn’t mind having a few more.

4)  Cleaning My Desk.  Status:  WIN!  Desk is clean and tidy, and as a bonus, I even managed to finally get my electric kettle hauled upstairs and plugged in, for a nearly-endless supply of tea while I write.

5)  Stocking The Freezer.  Status:  WIN!  We don’t have enough food in it for the entire month, but we should be able to go a couple of weeks, at least.

6)  Storing Up Blog Ideas.  Status:  FAIL!  Well, I did store some up.  But then I used them all during this Post-A-Day challenge.  Oops.

7)  Finish Current Editing Projects.  Status:  FAIL!  On the one hand, I’ve gotten some great editing done on the first Winterbourne book.  On the other, I’m still only about halfway through this editing pass.  So that’s probably going to have to wait until December.

So I’m more or less ready, except for a few key areas.  Hopefully those won’t mess me up too badly….

 

Any of my friends doing NaNo this year?  Are you ready?

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Getting To Know You; or, An Interview With Your Character

Posted on October 30, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-a-Day Challenge, day 29)

One of the ways you can get to know your characters a little better is by conducting an interview with them.  Asking them the right kinds of questions can reveal things about them that you might not have thought about, or give you new insights into what really makes them tick.

This is a great pre-NaNoWriMo exercise, because it allows you to interact with your character without actually writing any of your story (because you have to wait until November 1 to do that).

So this evening, I’ve invited Nicholas Fletcher, who is the love interest of Celia Winterbourne, the main character of my “Daughters of August Winterbourne” series, by for a little chat.  We catch up to him just before the beginning of Book 3 in the series, working title, “Daughters Abroad”.

Me:  Good evening, Nicholas.  It’s a pleasure to see you again.

Nicholas Fletcher:  Good evening.  It’s a pleasure to be here.  So this is your new blog, is it?  {Looks around}  I like it. The pictures up there {points to top of page} are nice.

Me:  Thanks!  Yes, this is the new place.  I’ve been here almost two months now, and I like it a lot.  So, for the benefit of readers who haven’t met you yet, could you describe yourself?

NF:  Well, er, I’m tall.  Six feet, or maybe just a hair under that.  I suppose I’d describe myself as slender.  I have dark hair and eyes, and I currently have a beard.  Both my hair and my beard could use a trim at the moment, since I’ve been on a ship for the last two and a half weeks.

Me:  Why have you been on a ship?

NF:  Why ask me?  You’re the author.  Don’t you know?

Me:  Of course I know.  But they {gestures toward blogsphere} don’t.

NF:  Oh, right.  I forgot.  Well, I’m on my way from Tarmania to Boston, where I’ll be attending the Boston Institute of Science this spring.  Finishing up my doctorate.

Me:  So you started your doctorate elsewhere?

NF:  Yes, at the Royal Academy of Science at Oxford.

Me:  But you had to leave there?

NF:  {grimaces}  Yes.  Ever since my heritage was revealed last spring…

Me:  Which is?

NF:  Well, I never knew it when I was growing up, but it turns out that my family isn’t really British after all, but Tarmanian.  And since Britain is currently at war with Tarmania, I was forced to leave the Academy.

Me:  So tell me about your family?

NF:  Well, there are my parents, of course.  We’ve always gotten on well, though my father was forced to disown me last fall when I came to Tarmania to take over my birthright.  They’re currently living in hiding so they can’t be abducted and used as hostages against my good behavior.  And there’s my sister Lillian, who’ll be sixteen later this month.  She’s very bright, made it into the Academy last fall.  I’m very proud of her.

Me:  Any others?

NF:  Not any more.  I did have a younger brother, Nathaniel, three years younger.  But he died four and a half years ago.  Hunting accident.

Me:  So where and when were you born, and where do you call home now?

NF:  I was born in my parents’ home near Southampton, in April of 1848, which means I’ll be twenty-seven in a few months.  As to where I call home now…that’s a bit trickier.  See, I still think of England and Southampton as “home”, but since I can’t go back there at the moment…I’d say that Fezhir Castle, which is in the town of Koshika in the county of Fezhir in northwestern Tarmania, is more or less my “home” now.

Me:  You live in a castle?

NF:  Well, yes.  I’m Count Fezhir, you see.  So it goes with the territory.  But it’s not much of a castle, I’m afraid.  Very old and run-down.  And impossible to heat in the wintertime.  Trust me.

Me:  So who is your best friend?

NF: Am I allowed to say Celia Winterbourne?

Me:  Well, besides her.

NF:  Oh.  {Ponders}  That’s trickier.  I don’t have a lot of friends at the moment.  A lot of my former friends more-or-less abandoned me when the truth came out about my Tarmanian heritage.  But James Dixon was very kind to me last fall.  I’d count him as a friend.  I think Karolyi Sebestya, who is my steward back in Tarmania, is a friend, of sorts, though she’s…well, let’s just say that’s gotten a bit complicated in recent weeks.  And of course, Kel Herzhik is going to be my roommate for the next few months.  He’s a diplomat, currently assigned to the Tarmanian Embassy in America.  The problem is that while I like him, I know he’s really been sent to America with me so he can spy on me.  So I can’t completely trust him, and I think trust is important in a friendship.

Me:  Makes sense.  So what are three things you liked to do as a child?

NF:  Hmmm, good question.  I loved horseback riding.  I got my first pony for Christmas when I was nine.  And I was fascinated by trains.  I loved riding on them, any chance I got, which was never often enough for me.  And I guess…I just enjoyed doing things with my brother, Nathaniel.  In modern terms, I guess you’d say we liked “hanging out” together.  We got into a lot of mischief, though.

Me:  Oh?  Like what?

NF:  Well, there was the time we decided to go off on an overnight fishing trip–without telling our parents.  I was ten, I think, and Nathaniel was seven.  It was a long time before Mum forgave us for that one.  And there was the time we let all of Mr. Hagan’s sheep out of the pen.  Well, we’d sort of adopted this dog, you see, and we thought he was a sheep dog, only it turned out that he…wasn’t.  And then there was this housemaid we really didn’t like–she was always cross with us–so we used to leave frogs and snakes in her bed, things like that.

Me:  What is your biggest secret, right now?

NF:  That’s easy.  It’s that I’m really a British spy, only pretending to have accepted my Tarmanian heritage so I can report on their activities from inside.

Me: And your biggest fear?

NF:  That the Tarmanians will win this war, and I’ll be trapped in this lie for the rest of my life.  That I’ll never be able to marry Celia and settle down and raise a family.  Right now, I don’t even know when I’ll see her again, if ever.  Is there any hope for us?

Me:  I can’t tell you that.  If I did, it would change some of the decisions you’ll have to make in the next couple of books, and that would cause me all kinds of problems.  But I will ask you not to give up hope.

NF:  That’s far easier said than done, I’m afraid.

Me:  I know, and I’m sorry.

NF:  So is there anything you can tell me about the next book?

Me:  Well, like I said, I can’t give too much away.  But I can tell you that there are some surprises in store for you.  Good ones, I hope.  But you’ll also have to make some of the most difficult decisions of your life before it’s all over.

NF:  That…sounds ominous.

Me:  It is, a bit.  But promise me that you’ll come and talk to me again as I write the next book.

NF:  I would be delighted, of course.

Me:  Thank you, Nicholas.  And now, I’d best be wrapping this up.  It’s way past my bedtime.

NF:  Good night, dear lady.

Me:  Good night, Nicholas.

———————–

Has anyone else ever interviewed one of their characters?  What did you learn about them?

 

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Dragon Friday #4

Posted on October 29, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 28)

It’s Friday. You know what that means….

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe
(working title)
© 2011 Sheila McClune
Part 4

Teri tactfully avoided discussing my trip any further when she sat back down at the table.  Instead, we speculated as to whether or not Jill in accounting was pregnant again—she’d been dressing in loose clothing a lot lately—and tried to decide whether or not Steve in Marketing bought a hybrid because he really was environmentally conscious, or because he thought it would attract chicks.  (I suspected the latter.)  She told me about her upcoming vacation plans (Cabo, next month) and shared the news that her middle-school daughter had made the honor roll for the third time running.

When we finished eating—and after a second pint apiece—she insisted on calling a town car to take me to the airport.  “Really, Maddie, it just makes sense.  Your car is in the parking garage here, right?  And that’s already paid for the month.  So it won’t cost you extra to leave it here, while it would cost you to park it at the airport.  And the company pays a flat monthly rate to the town car service, so it’s not like it’s costing us anything.  Besides, I can’t let you drive after you’ve been drinking.”

“I haven’t had that much.”  Though we’d downed those pints pretty quickly, now that I thought about it.

“Still, I’d feel better.  Please, Maddie?”

“All right.”  Besides, it did sound easier than trying to find a parking space in a remote lot, then having to catch a shuttle bus in to the airport.  We detoured past the parking garage so I could get my luggage out of my car.

Teri waited in front of the building with me until the sleek black town car arrived.  As the driver took my carry-on bag and tucked it in the trunk, she handed me a card and a couple of folded up ten dollar bills.  “Tip money,” she murmured.  “And the card is for when you come back.  Call them, and they’ll come pick you up and bring you back here.”  She bit her lip, then put her hand on my shoulder.  “You packed condoms, right?”

My cheeks burned.  I turned to stuff the card into my purse.  “I thought you said you weren’t my mom?”

“I’m not.  Just a concerned friend.  So did you?”

I’d meant to buy them, really I had, but I’d run out of time.  Maybe I could grab some at the airport.  But Teri was waiting for an answer.  I hedged.  “Teri, it’s the twenty-first century.  No sane woman goes off for a long weekend with a guy without condoms anymore.”

“Well, just make sure you use them.”  Her eyes followed the driver as he came around and opened the car door for me.  “And have fun, okay?”

“That’s the plan,” I said, but my stomach flip-flopped as I thought about being alone in a hotel room—and a hot tub—with Paul.  “And Teri?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

# # #

The town car sped me smoothly to the airport, depositing me at the curb.  I breezed through check-in, thanks to my first-class ticket, and there wasn’t even much of a line at security.  A glance at my watch showed me I’d have plenty of time to stop off at one of the airport gift shops once I reached my concourse.  So when the underground train arrived to take me out to the concourse, I settled onto the bench seat across the front of the car with a weary sigh.

Tired as I was, though, I smiled at the thought of the flight ahead.  First class!  I might actually be able to catch some sleep on the five-hour flight.  Especially after I’d had another drink or two, which I planned to do.  Wasn’t that what first class was all about, after all?  Free booze?  And then, after that, there would be a deluxe hotel room, and that hot tub…and Paul.  Heck, we might not even make it to the convention!

The other three people sharing my train car – it wasn’t very crowded at that hour – clung to poles in the center of the car, looking like they were already half asleep.  I hoped they’d wake up when they got to the correct concourse.  I grinned, imagining to myself that if they didn’t, they’d just stay on the train all night, shuttling endlessly back and forth between the terminal and the concourses.

An overhead speaker blared.  “The train is approaching the station.  Please hold on for arrival at Concourse B.”  The snippet of music accompanying the pre-recorded voice was, as always, far too cheerful, especially for ten o’clock at night.  Two of the three pole-hangers shifted sleepily and turned to face the door.  As the train slowed down, I tightened my grip on my carry-on bag.  Almost there, almost there, almost there…

But before we could quite reach Concourse B, a flash of greenish light temporarily blinded me, and suddenly the train was bumping over what felt like a field of boulders instead of rolling smoothly along steel tracks.  And then, with a screeching, crunching, grinding sound, the car jolted abruptly to a halt.

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Retail Therapy; or Shopping For A Creative Spark

Posted on October 28, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 27)

[Almost there…stay on target….]

This evening, my friend Rivka and I decided to go out and engage in a little low-budget retail therapy.  We headed over to the ARC thrift store.

I love shopping at thrift stores.  It fascinates me to see the things people get rid of, and that the people running the store think people will actually pay money for.  Sometimes it astounds me how much they think they can ask for some of this junk.  And sometimes we make amazing finds and sneak out with a real steal.

Not to mention that it can be a lot of fun thinking up stories about what some of the items are and how they came to be there.  And about the other customers.

There were no earth shattering finds, other than a soap dish I may have to go back for on Saturday, when they’re having a half-price sale.  (I took a picture, but the pic is on my phone and my phone is downstairs, and I’m being lazy.  So I’ll have to post it later.)  Suffice it to say, it was a great soap dish, with a cupid and a dolphin, and it was raspberry pink and out there.  But neither of us had $8 to spend on a soap dish tonight.  If it’s still there on half-price Saturday, though…it’s mine.

Saw a lot of things that I would have liked to scoop up and use for steampunk and other craft projects, but again, the prices seemed high, so the stuff stayed there.

A few things did come home with me, though.  My favorites are two potentiaBelt Bucklel steampunk projects:  First, a rocking cool belt buckle (the belt isn’t much, but it looks like it would be easy enough to move it to a better belt):

There, doesn’t that look like it belongs on a steampunk outfit?  I thought it did.

And second was a really great hat (it’s the picture that’s obviously NOT a belt buckle (below).

Great HatThis hat will probably get gussied up with some conchos (even cooler if I could find some gear-shaped ones!) and become part of my western steampunk outfit.  That outfit has been needing a really good hat, and I think this is it.

While we were there, we encountered a number of other folks who were in the shop looking for Halloween costumes and ideas (well, it is that time of year).

There was also a man buying large numbers of artificial flowers, and a couple of large vases to go with them.  I’m intrigued.  I wish I knew why he was buying so many flowers, and such large vases.  There’s gotta be a great story behind it, I just know it.

What’s an off-the-wall place you go to in order to shop for ideas?

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Plot Decisions; or Weighing The Possibilities

Posted on October 27, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 26)

I just finished running the last few chapters of the first book of “The Daughters of August Winterbourne”* series past my critique group.  As part of the critique, two members of the group questioned one of the minor plot decisions I’d made.  Now I’m wondering which of the two possible paths would make the story–and its sequels, because this is a permanent sort of change that will affect one of the characters for the rest of her life–stronger, better.

Part of me doesn’t want to make the change, because the character in question is a fourteen-year-old girl, and the change would mean that she’d have to go through a pretty traumatic experience.  (I’m trying not to give too many spoilers here, because some of you might actually want to read this thing someday.  Hey, it could happen….)  And while I know that, as authors, one of our jobs is to make our characters suffer, I’m not sure I can make this character suffer in quite that way.  And there is a certain logic to the way the story flows now, and the potential for conflict between two other characters further down the road as a result of how this plays out.  One character essentially lies to the other about what has been done, and there is a certain glee in the payoff when the lie is discovered and challenged.

But part of me has to admit that making the change would give a darker dimension to the character at the center of this conflict, and I find myself thinking…I’d kinda like that.  The character as currently written may be just a little too full of sweetness and light, and this might give her enough of an edge to really pull her off of the paper and make her come to life.  And there would still be the potential for conflict between the other two characters as a result of what was done (and its combination with another subplot that hasn’t yet come to light).

All of which seems like a lot of fussing about what is, in the end, a minor plot point involving a secondary character.  But attention to details like these will make the story better in the long run, so it’s worth spending a little time on them.

Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Has anyone else ever found themselves re-thinking a plot decision?  Did you make the change or not?  How was the story better for the decision you made?

 

 

*I really need to devote some brain cells to coming up with a better title for that, one of these days….

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Weather Or Not; or, Let It Snow?

Posted on October 26, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 25)

As I write this, the season’s first snow is falling outside my window.  Sadly, it does not appear that we’ll get the 18″ some forecasters were predicting.  I’m thinking we’ll be lucky to make 3″ by morning, and then only on the grass and the roof.  So no snow day tomorrow.

I have fond memories of snow and writing together.  Back in 2006, I participated in my first NaNoWriMo.  I met the 50K-word goal by November 30th, but I still had another 65K or so to finish the story.

It was December–late December–and I desperately wanted to finish the story before Christmas.  And along came the snowpocalypse.  Mother Nature dumped three feet of snow on Denver about a week before Christmas that year, giving everyone in my office a couple of bonus days off.

Of course, at the time, I lived close enough to my office that I hiked through the snow to go to work anyway.  Didn’t realize until after I’d gotten there that the office was actually closed.  Hiked home, slipped on the stairs, and sprained my ankle (though not badly).  So I had the perfect opportunity to sit home in bed with my laptop on my lap and my foot on a pillow.  And thanks to the snow, I finished my story.

But when it comes to including descriptions of weather in my stories, I’m never quite sure how much to include, or how frequently I should bring it up.  In my Winterbourne series, the main character is a young woman who loves nothing more than to be aloft in an airship.  To the extent that the weather affects her flight, I know I should mention it.  But how often should it come up otherwise?  If I say it’s November, should characters mention digging out their winter coats?  If it’s summer, should I talk about how the muggy air is making them sweat?  If it rains only when it’s necessary to the plot, is that too much of a coincidence?

I guess my rule of thumb is that if the weather is having a direct effect on the characters, I should mention it, and otherwise, not.   Which seems kind of obvious, but there are times when it’s tempting to open a story or even a chapter with a meteorological observation, just to have a starting point.  After all, isn’t “It was a dark and stormy night” one of the most famous opening lines ever?  But if my characters are just going to sit around and play pinochle all evening, does the darkness and storminess of the night really have any bearing on the matter?

Perhaps, rather than telling the reader that “it was a bright, sunny day outside,” I’d do better to have my main character raise a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare.  Rather than telling readers that it’s cold out, I should describe how my character is dressing in layers before going out in it.  And if my characters are spending the day indoors, unless there’s a specific reason one of them is pining to be outdoors instead, I probably shouldn’t even mention the weather at all.

How do other folks approach the problem?  Have you ever read stories where there was too much discussion of the weather?  Or not enough?

 

 

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Too Much “Was”; or, One Easy Way To Add More Life To Your Writing

Posted on October 25, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 24)

In my on-line critique group, this was my week to receive a critique.  As always, my group provided helpful feedback, catching all (or at least, many) of the things I missed.

One person pointed out to me that there was an awful lot of “was” in my current section.  Which is only fair, because I’ve pointed it out to her on at least one occasion as well.

What does she mean by “too much ‘was’,” you ask?  Well, here.  Let’s make up an example:
DSCF4716
Suppose you have a setting that looks like the photograph on the right, and you wanted to describe it in your novel.  So you might write something like,

“The sky was bright blue in the afternoon sunlight.  There was a contrail slashed across it, vivid white across the blue.  The distant mountains were covered with trees and snow.  The nearby aspens were skeleton-white against the darker evergreens; their branches were bare for the winter.  Along the edge of the snow-packed road were the roughened lines of snowmobile tracks.”

Okay, maybe not the worst paragraph ever.  There are some good descriptions in there — a vivid-white contrail, skeleton-white trees, roughened lines of snowmobile tracks.

But it’s not the best paragraph it can be, either.

Why?  Because I’m telling you how everything was.  The verbs are all passive; they don’t engage you and draw you in.  “Was” is a wimpy verb, adding nothing to the scene.

Now, let’s try re-writing that paragraph to eliminate the “was”:

“A lone contrail slashed across the clear sky, vivid white against deep blue.  Tall pines dotted the snow-covered mountains, blurring into a ragged grey-green blanket as the peaks receded into the distance.  Nearby aspens, skeleton-white against the darker evergreens, reached winter-bare branches up to the sky.  Closer at hand, lines of snowmobile tracks roughened the edge of the snow-packed road.”

I’m sure that could be further improved, but you get the idea.  The second version of the description seems much more interesting and vivid, doesn’t it?  The more-active verbs draw you in better, making the paragraph sound more like poetry and less like a shopping list.  (Or at least, I hope they do!)

And that’s exactly what my friend was trying to tell me.  You can’t necessarily eliminate every occurrence of “was” (or “is”, or “were”, or “has been”) from your writing, but when you can, you should.

Who else has trouble with “was”, and what tricks have you learned to eliminate it from your writing?

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It’s Dangerous To Go Alone; or Do You Know Where Your NaNoWriMo Support Group Is?

Posted on October 24, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 23)

Today, I attended a NaNoWriMo panel at MileHiCon.  Since I’m a NaNo veteran, there wasn’t a lot that I didn’t already know, but I was intrigued by the discussions of NaNoWriMo as a social activity rather than a writing exercise.  Dangerous Kitten

I have to confess, I’ve never attended any of the official NaNoWriMo functions in my area.  Nor have I been active on the NaNo forums, official or otherwise.  I may try to change that this year, just because I’m curious, but I’m not sure whether writing in a group of strangers would be a help or a hindrance.  I could see the potential for energy and inspiration, and I know the value of sitting down to write somewhere other than your usual “spot”.  But I can also see that it could be very distracting.

I tend to rely more on my friends–online and in person–for support and encouragement.  In the past, I’ve tried to post daily updates (which, I’ll be honest, doesn’t usually last more than about four days into the month) showing my word count and discussing progress on the story.  They’ve previously been posted to my LiveJournal account, but this year, they’ll probably go here, and possibly get cross-posted to there.

In the past, I’ve found my friends on LiveJournal to be a great help.  The first year I did NaNoWriMo, I was trying to decide between several story ideas, and a poll of my LJ friends helped me pick the idea I finally went with.  A couple of years later, when a character needed a new first name, my friends list again came to my rescue.  So I definitely still want (no, NEED) their support.

And, of course, people who are friends with me on Facebook, Twitter, or Google+ will probably see occasional random posts/tweets/status updates from me on the subject.  I’ll try not to be too obnoxious about it, though.  Promise.

But this year…this year might finally be the year I go to one of those “in-person” things.  I hear there’s a meet-up at Panera Bread, Iliff & Peoria, on Tuesdays.  That could (sorta-kinda) be on my way home from work….

What support systems do other people rely on while tackling insane projects?

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Things You Learn From Conventions; or It’s About More Than Just The Writing

Posted on October 24, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 22)

 

I love going to science fiction conventions, especially the more literary ones like MileHiCon (which is where I am this weekend, hence the lack of internet connectivity).  These conventions aren’t about meeting your favorite actor from your favorite TV show; they’re more about getting together and discussing books and authors and writing and ideas and science and art and, yes, creativity in general.

So I did go to a couple of panels about writing, which are always valuable, but I also helped out in the art show, where I got to see some cool artwork in a variety of media.  And while there, I got to make observations about people working together as teams, problem-solving on the fly.  Most of the people who work art show are regulars, there year after year, so they mostly know the drill and are used to being a team.  There were a few hiccups with setup this year, but everyone worked around them, and the show was still able to open on time.

Another thing I enjoyed was just sitting quietly off to the side and listening to people’s conversations.  I heard everything from debates over planetary physics and string theory to where to go to find a mechanism to convert a treadle sewing machine to hand-crank power.

Of course, sometimes the conversations you overhear are priceless:

Kid 1:  See that guy over there in the Viking hat?
Kid 2:  Yeah….
Kid 1:  That’s my dad.

Or:

We’d just gotten onto a crowded elevator, and the trio of folks behind us decided to wait for the next car.  From where I was standing, I could see that the leader was carrying a mannequin torso.  “We’ll wait,” he said.  “There are three of us.”

“Four, if you add up all the parts,” one of his companions added.

 

Really, you just can’t make that stuff up.

Does anyone else go to conventions or writers’ conferences?  What sorts of things do you learn about, other than writing?

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Dragon Friday #3

Posted on October 24, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 21*)

Okay, yeah, I know.  I missed posting the last couple of days.  But that’s because the Hyatt management are a bunch of greedy bastards who have to squeeze every last red cent out of their guests.  And, dear blogsphere, much as I love you, I wasn’t going to pop for an EXTRA $13/day for internets, for the three days we’re going to be here.

So I’m writing this now, and I’ll post it later.  It still counts, right?

 

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe, Part 3

At 7:15, Cliff finally signed off on the last round of changes.  Teri punched the button to cut the video conference connection, and we both sat back with a sigh.

She gave me a tired smile.  “Thanks again, Maddie.  I really couldn’t have done it without you.”  She cocked her head, then pulled her laptop toward her.  “What’s your hotel?  In Boston?”

“Why?”

She gave me a wicked grin.  “Cliff has frequent guest points at most of the major chains.  He’ll never miss ‘em, and frankly, he owes you.”

“Teri, that’s not necessary, really….”

“Yes it is.”  And she badgered me until I told her, then clicked away at her keyboard.  “Okay, done.  Now, let’s get some dinner in you and get you out to the airport.”

She trundled me down to the Sixteenth Street Mall, hauled me into Katie Mullen’s, and announced her intention to stuff me with bangers and mash and a pint or two of Guinness before sending me off.  I relaxed into the pub’s familiar, cozy atmosphere—Teri and I often hit the pub for a pint after work on Friday nights—and felt the tension finally begin to ease from between my shoulders.

We’d just ordered and were halfway through our first pints when my cell phone rang.

“Maddie?”

I felt a warm rush of happiness as Paul’s voice, rich even over my tinny cell-phone speakers, poured out of my phone.  But at the same time…Teri didn’t know about Paul, and she was looking at me inquisitively from across the table.  “Er, hi.”  I half-turned away from Teri.  “What’s up?”

“Who did you kill?”

“Who did I…what?”

“I just checked into our hotel.  When I tried to give them my credit card, they told me the room had already been paid for.  And then, when I got up here…I know you can’t afford this.  So who did you kill?”

I whipped my head around to stare at Teri.  “Exactly what are we talking about, here?”

“It’s a two-room suite, Mads.  On the club level.  With a freaking hot tub.”

“A…hot tub?”

The corners of Teri’s mouth dropped, and she cringed into her seat.  “How did you find out about that?” she asked in a stage whisper.  “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

I glared at her.  “I’ll call you right back,” I told Paul.

There was a pause from his end of the line.  “Sorry.  I caught you at a bad time, didn’t I?”

“Kinda, yeah.  I’ll explain later.”

“’K.  Bye.”

I made sure the call disconnected, then stared down at the phone for a moment.  What was I going to tell Teri?

But she was a perceptive person, and she’d known me for several years.  “You aren’t going to Boston alone, are you?”

I decided to brazen it out, and lifted my head to meet her eyes.  “I’m meeting a friend there.  We’re sharing a room.”

She evaluated me coolly, eyes narrowing, head tilting.  “And your friend is male, or you’d have mentioned him sooner.”

Dammit.  Sometimes it was like working for Sherlock freaking Holmes.  “I—I….”  I turned to look out the wide windows at the hotel across the street.

“I’m not here to judge you, Maddie,” she said, gently.  “You’re a big girl, and even if you weren’t, I’m not your mom.”  She stood abruptly and slung her purse strap over her shoulder.  “I’m going to the ladies’ room.  How long should I take?”

I glanced down at my phone.  “Five minutes should be plenty.  Thanks.”

She flashed me a wicked grin and was gone.  I had Paul back on the line almost instantly, and explained about Teri, and Cliff.

“Well…I guess, as long as I know you aren’t bankrupting yourself for this, we might as well enjoy it, right?  Besides, it sounds like you earned it.”

I rotated my other shoulder, feeling the knots in my neck.  “I think I did.  Hey, thanks for understanding?”

“Always, Maddie.”  I could hear his smile.  “Just hurry up and get out here so we can enjoy all this decadence, all right?”

“Be there as quick as I can.”  I was still reluctant to cut the connection, but I could see Teri approaching.  “See you in the morning.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

————

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Postus Interruptus; or, You Want Free WHAT?

Posted on October 22, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Sorry guys.  No free wi-fi at the Hyatt Regency Tech Center, under any circumstances, ever.  (I’ll rant more about that later.)

So I’m still writing my blog entries for my blog challenge, but I won’t be able to post them until tomorrow night.  (Taking advantage of a few minutes of connectivity at a VI while waiting for dessert to post this, but the full entries will have to wait until I have my own internets back again.)

 

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Saving For Later; or What Became Of This Year’s Plum Crop

Posted on October 21, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 20)

When Beloved Husband and I moved into our house a few years ago, we discovered that, among other things, our property included a couple of ume plum bushes–small Japanese plums.

Well, of course, when life gives you Japanese plums, of course you make plum wine.  (Which is not really a wine, but a liqueur, by the way).  You make plum wine by putting plums, sugar, and shochu (a distilled Japanese beverage usually made of sweet potatoes and rice) in a bottle and waiting.

The first year we tried it, we put the stuff in jars, and 3-4 months later — Christmastime — we tried it.

It was awful.

Discouraged, I stuck the remaining jars in the basement and essentially forgot about them for the better part of two years.  Then, one day, I came across them and thought, what the heck, I’ll see if it has improved any.

Oh, my.  Yes, it had.  Sometime during those two years, the plums had turned into a quite palatable plum wine.

So every year since then, when we’ve gotten a plum crop, one of fall’s rituals has been the putting up of plum wine.

This year, I decided to go for a sweeter wine, so I put in more sugar.  So my recipe this year looked like this:

9-12 small plums
3 tablespoons sugar
Enough shochu (6-7 oz.) to fill a half-pint canning jar

Combine.  Shake until sugar dissolves.  Shake again whenever you think about it.  Wait two years.  Enjoy.

Except…it’s never that easy.  I measured the plums and sugar out into the jars, then started pouring the shochu.  I ran out of shochu long before I ran out of prepared jars.  Oops.

A rummage through the liquor cupboard yielded the end of a bottle of Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum, another partial bottle of shochu, and a goodly amount of cherry vodka.  Which was enough to fill another six jars.  Leaving four more.

There’s only one store in the area that reliably carries shochu (that we’ve found), and it’s all the way downtown from here.  So I decided to hit one of our local liquor stores, prepared to think outside the box…

Only, to my surprise, the small store I’d chosen actually had shochu.  So the last four jars got filled and shaken.

I am a little concerned that the plums this year were much smaller than in previous years.  We had a lot of hot days without much rain during the latter part of the summer.  I think we ended up with smaller fruit as a result.

I’ll let you know how it all comes out in two years or so.

 

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Living A Creative Life; or, How Do You Know When You’re Doing It Right?

Posted on October 20, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 19)

I saw a quote about creativity the other day that gave me pause for thought:

“To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.”
-Joseph Chilton Pearce

Which sounds profound and wonderful, but…not quite right.  Or rather, it’s only partly right.  It’s not that we fear being wrong.  It’s that we fear looking stupid.

Being wrong is only one thing that can make us look stupid.  Taking creative chances is another.  How many of us have come up with what we think is a creative solution to a problem, only to be told, “No, that’s stupid, it will never work”?

It’s worse when someone whose opinion we value tells us that.  How many of us have had a supervisor, a parent, a mentor tell us our idea was bad?  If they say it often enough or loudly enough, isn’t it easy to start believing that all of our ideas are bad, or that we shouldn’t risk voicing them for fear that they will be shot down yet again?

I think that, in order to live a truly creative life, we have to get past that fear.  We have to embrace the idea that sometimes, we’re going to be the only one dancing in a field of daisies in the rain, while everyone else would rather not get their shoes wet.  But afterwards, we’ll be the ones who can best describe the smell of those wet daisies, the feel of rain-lashed petals on our skin, the sound of mud squelching between our toes.  The nay-sayers will have stayed warm and safe and dry.  But we’ll be the ones who have lived.

And maybe, from the middle of the daisy field, we’ll finally be able to see that they, not we, are the ones who look foolish.

So I think my version of the above quote has to be,

“To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of looking stupid.”
-Sheila McClune

Easier said than done, I know.  But I’ll be working on it.

Care to join me?

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Officially Registered; or NaNoWriMo, Here I Come!

Posted on October 18, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 18)

Today, I finally got around to officially registering for this year’s NaNoWriMo challenge.  Not that it was an urgent task–I still have a few days left before the beginning of November, after all.  But it always feels good to go in and get set up for this year’s novel.

For folks who have never done NaNoWriMo, here’s (hopefully) what my profile page looks like.  I’ve written a short synopsis of where I think the story’s going to go, though it’s still kind of vague and general at this point.  Later, after NaNoWriMo begins, I’ll post an excerpt from the novel (usually the first several paragraphs) in the excerpt section.

Seeing it posted publicly like that somehow makes everything seem more real, more official.  It’s as if I’ve announce to the world that, “Hey, I’m writing this book,” and now that I’ve said I’m going to do it, I have to follow through.

It’s also frankly kind of cool to have a book blurb and an author bio posted on the web.  Even if it’s for a novel that’s not published.  (Yet.)

This will be my fifth NaNoWriMo.  I’ve succeeded with all four of my previous attempts.  Here’s hoping I can carry through to victory this year as well.

For anyone else who’s participating, my NaNo handle is arwensouth.  If you make me your buddy, I’ll reciprocate.  Because having buddies, a support network, and a cheering section really does help, at least in my mind.

Now all I have to do is figure out where I left my NaNo hat (a cheap, costume pirate hat that I’ve used in the past as a signal to Beloved Husband that I’m writing and should not be disturbed).  And stock up on herbal tea.  And find my slippers (because a writer with cold toes is an unproductive writer.  Trust me.)

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Another Goal Achieved; or, A Clean Desk Is A Sign Of…

Posted on October 18, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 17)

Ahhh.  The smell of furniture polish is in the air.  That can only mean one thing:  Today was desk-cleaning day at my house.

One of my pre-NaNoWriMo prep goals was to clean off my desk, and today, I finally found the right combination of time, inclination, and location to get the job done.  (I won’t commit to cleaning the whole home office, because Beloved Husband shares it with me, and what he does on his side of the room is up to him.)  I did go so far as to tidy the shelves behind my desk, since that’s where my writing reference manuals live–alongside my fangirl shrine, software discs, a pile of stuff waiting to be scanned into my computer, and a goodly stack of blank CDs and DVDs.

It’s amazing how much clutter can accumulate on a person’s desk in a year or so.  Tax forms, DVDs and CDs, empty water cups, pocket watches, dead computer batteries…the list could go on, but you get the point.

But now the trash is all in the can, stuff that needs to go elsewhere in the house has been put where it can be taken downstairs, desk and shelves have been dusted, and all feels tidy and happy.  Now, the only things on my desk are my computer keyboard, monitor, speakers, mouse and mouse pad, printer, lamp, headphones, hand sanitizer, and my fingerless gloves.  Oh, and the case for my glasses.

I have to add that my desk is not the desk that I wanted or would have chosen for myself.  But it belonged to our house’s previous owner, and she didn’t want the challenge of moving it to Tucson with her.  It’s a big, old, wooden desk–not a roll-top, sadly, just a flat-topped desk.  It was built long before the days of personal computers, so it doesn’t really have a good spot for my CPU; that shares the knee-well with me (rather uncomfortably, sadly).  It did need a little repair, which I was able to handle, and for now, it will do.

It also has one very important factor in its favor:  It smells right.  It smells like my dad’s desk in his home office, and like one my grandfather had in his house.  It’s not just the smell of furniture polish.  It’s a scent of wood and metal and pencils and old typewriter ribbons and I’m not even sure what else.  But it smells like a desk should smell.  And that makes me happy.

My current desktop computer is a cast-off from work; the monitor was scrounged from someone who didn’t want it anymore; and up until a couple of weeks ago, my keyboard came from state surplus (but unfortunately, that one broke, and I had to replace it).  My desk chair also came from state surplus, and I’m very happy with it.

But the best thing on my desk is my lamp.  It’s beaded and delightfully Victorian-looking, even though I did buy it brand new.

So now my desk is clean and ready to go come November 1.  One more item checked off my NaNoWriMo to-do list.

Anyone else out there getting ready for Nov. 1?  What preparations are you making?

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And Then What? or, Pacing

Posted on October 17, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 16)

(Gah!  Somehow this got saved as a draft last night instead of getting posted.  It should count anyway, right?)

Found myself indisposed with an unhappy tummy today, so I took the opportunity to read through one of my works in progress from cover to cover, as it were.

This one has been largely unedited, but I’ve mentally picked out several scenes that need to be eliminated altogether, and one that needs substantial trimming.  So this time, on my read-through, I skipped those scenes, and found the pacing to be much improved.  Not surprising, really, when you think about it; one of the reasons unneeded scenes should be edited out is because they slow down the pacing too much.

What surprised me, though, was to find that with just those few exceptions–and maybe one other scene near the end that could be trimmed back by half–the pacing in the piece is pretty good.  Interesting things happen, and the characters don’t quite have a chance to completely recover from one before the next thing hits.  There isn’t really any downtime.

Which is something that’s hard to tell unless you can just sit down and read the whole story in one sitting, but if you can do that, I recommend it.  Start with Chapter One and keep reading until you reach The End.  Take note of any places where you find yourself skimming, or where your attention starts to wander.  Chances are good that these are passages that either need to be tightened up or eliminated.

What are some other ways people use to identify trouble spots in pacing?

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NaNoWriMo Icons & Banner; or, Spiffing The Place Up

Posted on October 16, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 15)

(Yes, I know, it’s technically tomorrow, but I haven’t gone to bed yet, so it still counts.  Neener-neener.)

Okay, so today, I made myself some icons–and a banner–for NaNoWriMo.  I’m going to try for a couple more of each, but here’s what I have so far:

First, the banner:

I took my netbook to the Tattered Cover today and took some photos of it in various locations.  Most of the icons and this banner all come from that photoshoot.  You’ll be seeing a lot more of this banner come November.

Next, icons:

This first one was inspired by the “Eat. Sleep. Read.” signs they have posted all over at the Tattered Cover.  I thought this version was more appropriate for NaNoWriMo.

This one’s just simple and basic.  I may use it as a base for other things later.

For posts about things other than writing.  Obviously.

No text on this one.  Just the netbook and a comfy chair.

Er, yes, well…

Once I saw this chair, I had to have pictures.  And once I had pictures, there had to be icons.  (And no, I don’t know where my comfy chair is.  I don’t have a comfy chair.  I really wish I did.)

And finally, because it’s something of a tradition for me, there had to be at least one animated GIF.  This one, again, based on the Comfy Chair.

So that’s what I’ve got so far.  More to come!

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Dragon Friday #2

Posted on October 15, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 14)

Time for another installment in the story I started last week.

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe
(working title)
© 2011 Sheila McClune
Part 2

Of course, it didn’t go that smoothly. It never does.

Luckily, I had done my packing the night before. All I had left to do was to fill Paisley’s dish with crunchies, top off the water in her fountain, and give her a quick snuggle. Lucinda, my sister, would be by later to apartment-sit for the weekend. It got her away from her obnoxious roommates for a few days while saving me kennel fees. Win-win.

I beat the worst of the traffic into downtown, and even got a good parking spot in the garage across the street from the building. There were some advantages to getting up early. Not that they outweighed the disadvantages, at least in my mind.

Teri was waiting for me in the lobby with latte in hand. “Thank you again, Maddie. I really do owe you one.”

I shuffled my feet. “Yeah, well….”

She thrust the steaming cardboard cup into my hands. The rich aroma rising from the vent in the plastic lid made my stomach growl. She grinned. “Bagels are in the kitchen. Go grab one, and then I’ll show you what Cliff wants.”

What Cliff wanted, it turned out, was about ten days’ worth of work compressed into one morning. He’d completely revised his position on several key points, and now all the supporting data I’d put together over the last month no longer applied. Of course.

I dove in and worked like a madwoman, researching speaking points, re-doing graphs and slides, massaging the data to spin it the way Cliff wanted. I only came up for air twice, once to respond to Paul’s text that he was at SEA/TAC ready to board (I wished him a safe flight and told him I looked forward to seeing him), and once sometime after noon, when Teri shoved a sandwich at me and I crammed it into my face.

Finally, around three, we finished the revisions. Teri and I gathered in the conference room to go over our last set of changes with Cliff via video conference.

Of course he wanted another round of changes. I glanced nervously at the clock. Three fifteen. My flight left at 5:50, which meant that I needed to arrive at the airport no later than 4:20. The airport was a long way from downtown Denver, and during rush hour, it could take forty-five minutes or more to get there. “I’m really sorry,” I said. “But I’m not going to have time to do that before I leave.”

Across the table, Teri was already tapping away on her laptop. “Let me just check….”

“Leave?” Cliff asked. “You’re leaving? Where are you going?”

“Boston,” I said. “PTO. It’s been on the schedule for months. Didn’t Teri…?”

“There’s a red-eye,” Teri broke in. “Leaves here at 11:17, gets you into Boston at five tomorrow morning.” Clickety-clickety. “They have one first-class seat left.”

I started to shake my head. “Teri, I…. Did you say, ‘first class’?”

She shrugged. “There’s no business class on that flight.”

Still, I hesitated. Paul and I had been looking forward to actually meeting each other for so long. What if he was disappointed or even angry with me for changing our plans yet again?

And yet…a part of me was actually sort of relieved that Paul and I would have a chance to spend a little time together before sharing a hotel room. We’d never come out and said it in so many words, but I was sort of hoping we’d only need one of the two queen beds in the room we’d reserved. Still, for all that Paul and I had chatted online and even on the phone, it was quite possible that when we finally got together, we just wouldn’t click. And if that turned out to be the case, well, it would make for a long and awkward weekend. So maybe putting it off a little longer wasn’t such a bad thing.

Cliff’s voice came out of the speaker-phone, and I realized he was still waiting for my answer. “Maddie,” he said, “I’m not trying to ruin your vacation. But this board meeting is vitally important to the company, and we need your help to make our presentation the best it can be. I wouldn’t ask it otherwise.”

I squirmed. If only he didn’t always sound so sincere! “I know, and ordinarily I’d be glad to help. But I’ve already had to change my plans once. I should have been practically to Boston already.”

“This will be the last set of changes.” Cliff’s voice was firm. “We’ll have you out of there in plenty of time to make that red-eye flight, and even stop for a nice dinner somewhere first. I promise.”

Well, what else could I do? “All right. But this is the last change I’m going to make.”

“Understood. And thank you. Teri, can you make sure she gets a couple of those Visa gift cards we had left over from last quarter’s promo? At least she can have a nice dinner on us while she’s in Boston.”

Teri nodded, and Cliff went back to outlining his changes.

. . .

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Prose To Poetry And Back Again; or, All The Other Cool Kids Were Doing It….

Posted on October 14, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Post-A-Day Challenge, Day 13)

Okay, so….

After seeing this on a couple of other writers’ blogs, I decided to try it myself.

The idea is to take your prose and break it into lines and stanzas like a free-verse poem.  By doing this, you will pinpoint weaknesses in your writing.  And then, when you make changes to your “poem” and turn it back into prose, you’ll have a much-improved paragraph.

I had to admit that I was skeptical.  Not that it could work at all — because I’d seen a couple of very fine examples — but that it could work for me.  I am, after all, something of an anti-poet.  Whatever combination of brain synapses it takes for people to be able to write and appreciate poetry…well, I don’t seem to have it.

But I decided to give it a shot anyway, using the first paragraph of Book 1 of the Winterbourne series.  Here’s how it came out:

First, the original paragraph:

The airship Sophie’s Lightning gleamed golden in the late afternoon sun as it hung over a grassy meadow just outside the village of Windmill Hill.  The errant breezes from the nearby ocean would have made landing the craft a challenge for a lesser pilot, but Celia Winterbourne had been piloting her father’s airships since the age of eleven.  She’d flown this particular ship since its maiden voyage five years earlier and knew its every nuance.  Her fingers danced over the control panel, pulling levers to make minute adjustments to the rudder and the seven small propellers that guided the airship.

That paragraph broken up into a “poem”:

The airship Sophie’s Lightning
Gleamed golden
In the late afternoon sun
As it hung over a grassy meadow
Just outside the village
Of Windmill Hill.

The errant breezes from
The nearby ocean
Would have made landing the craft
A challenge
For a lesser pilot,
But Celia Winterbourne
Had been piloting her father’s airships
Since the age of eleven.

She’d flown this particular ship
Since its maiden voyage
Five years earlier
And knew its every nuance.

Her fingers danced
Over the control panel,
Pulling levers
To make minute adjustments
To the rudder
And the seven small propellers
That guided the airship.

Ewww.  Even I can see that that’s pretty bad.  So let’s see what happens if we spiff it up a bit:
The Revised “Poem”:

The airship Sophie’s Lightning,
gleaming and golden
in the sunset light,
hung over a grassy meadow
near Windmill Hill.

The errant ocean breezes
would have challenged
a lesser pilot,
but Celia Winterbourne,
a veteran aeronaut,
knew the graceful ship’s every nuance.

Her fingers danced
over the control panel,
pulling levers,
making minute adjustments
to rudder and steering propellers.

Well…that’s better.  Though I think we lose some vital information in the translation.  But this does flow better.

It’s still blindingly obvious that I am NOT a poet, though.

The resulting paragraph now looks like this:

The airship Sophie’s Lightning, gleaming and golden in the sunset light, hung over a grassy meadow near Windmill Hill.  The errant ocean breezes would have challenged a lesser pilot, but Celia Winterbourne, a veteran aeronaut, knew the graceful ship’s every nuance.  Her fingers danced over the control panel, pulling levers, making minute adjustments to rudder and steering propellers.

So…what do you all think?  Thumbs-up or thumbs-down?

Anybody else feel like giving it a shot?

(Gah!  Sorry, guys!  Don’t know why all that extra stuff ended up at the bottom of this posting.  But it’s fixed now….)

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