Crunch Time

It seems as if I'm always crunched for time, but right now, it's at the point of crucial.  Deadline looms for the last of the Desperation books.  I'm a scene + one chapter + an epilogue from having it written.  That will be done by the end of the week, but then there's editing and polishing.  Deadline is the 24th.

This past weekend, I'd planned to be much closer to being finished.  Weekends are usually my best time to get caught up on word count.  Not this past Saturday and Sunday.  I'd forgotten about college basketball.  I didn't even make a note of it, and the schedules I'd printed seem to have buried themselves under quickly scribbled plot notes and snips of dialogue. When I realized my beloved Wildcats were playing, it was far into the game.  And since two granddaughters were here for basically the weekend (more bad planning on my part) and had commandeered the TV, I watched the last half of the game on my computer.  The game wasn't going well, so I missed the last few minutes to switch to another.  Thanks to friends on FB, I realized that my beloved #4-in-the-nation Shockers weren't playing in the evening, but were just beginning their game.  It wasn't televised, so I listened to the play-by-play on the radio.  This game had a much better outcome, with a 23rd straight victory.  GO SHOX!!!  But then that other State university was playing yet another beloved team, the Longhorns, and UT was leading by a wide margin at half-time.  Obviously a must-see and well worth the time.  I giggled for a couple of hours over that one.  An impromptu dinner at oldest daughter's house took up most of the evening, but I came home and hit the keyboard, at least finishing two more scenes.  Can we say 'dedication?'  Can we say 'panic?'

My intention on Sunday was to bury myself in getting words on paper.  I ended up spending more time on line edits for the August book than I'd planned, and time went by without much notice...except for that nagging in the back of my mind that I really needed to finish the line edits and get cracking on that new manuscript.  Then came the sad news that Philip Seymour Hoffman had died, as I eagerly awaited 8 p.m., when the CNN documentary, The 60s: The British Invasion, a lead-in to a new series, was to come on.  But PSH news kept that from happening, and it wasn't until 10 p.m.that the CNN docu finally aired.  I'm really looking forward to the full CNN The 60s series in May.  I truly enjoyed The British Invasion, listening and watching all the great bands and music from that era and how it all shaped, not only the music of today, but the world.

So this is my life at this point.  The usual running back and forth to schools to drop off and collect the g-kids, checking Facebook off and on during the day, and racing to that deadline.  A threatening snowstorm over the next few days may put a crimp in my crunch if school is closed due to weather.  Which would be better?  Refereeing 5 kids or having to drive through snow to get them to and fro?  Something tells me I won't get to choose.  Mother Nature sometimes has a lousy sense of humor.  I'm working on mine. ;)

The thing that would most improve my life is 27 hours in a day. I could meet all my deadlines. ~ Yoko Ono

Or not. 

Monday Blues, Rock, or Whatever

My parents were music lovers.  Married in the 1940s, they were fans of the Big Bands.  Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey and Jimmy Dorsey are among the bands I grew up listening to.  They also had collections of Classical music and Country/Western.  I even had a thing for Opera for a while in grade school.  I've never been to an opera. *grin*

I love music!

I've lost count of the number of songs on my playlist, probably because my taste in music is very eclectic and I listen to a lot of different types.  Of course I prefer some music over others, and I haven't been listening to very much of the current crop of hits.  I'm too busy enjoying what I know and already have.

Music, even the weepy songs, lift me up out of the doldrums and bad moods or helps with de-stressing during "one of those days."  It helps me relax and go to sleep at night.  I use it while writing and, yes, have made playlists for each book.  Those playlists sometimes have duplicate songs, here and there, but usually the music has something to do with the characters or the story.  An especially snappy tune will get me on my feet.  I love to dance, too, so the two go hand in hand.

A year-and-a-half ago, when I walked two miles each morning, I took my Mp3 player that included "walking" music.  Fast tempo stuff that forbade a leisurely stroll.  Was it the walking or the music that made me start my day on a better note than if I didn't walk?

I played piano, flute, and even taught myself to play a guitar (badly).  I sang in Glee Club and Mixed Chorus and have a 1st place gold medal from a music contest when I was part of an octet in high school.  I can't carry a tune in a bucket these days, but singing along with a little Simon and Garfunkel isn't out of the question for me.  Or the Beatles or Beach Boys or the Carpenters or...  It's impossible to keep from tapping my foot to bit of music...even a TV commercial that includes music with a good beat.

The speakers in my car are dying a painful death, so listening while I drive isn't done often.  But if I find myself feeling down, I'll turn it on, in spite of the crackling from one side or the other.  Music rarely intrudes on my thoughts.  It adds to them.  Makes them better, makes them clearer.  Whether the music has lyrics or is strictly instrumental doesn't really matter.  It makes the heart sing.

There's no such thing in my life as a favorite song.  There's far too many to choose from.  I'd have to pick 3 from column A, a dozen from B, and a few from C.  No, it can't be done.

Do you have a favorite song?  Or favorite type of music to listen to?  Or are you eclectic, like me?  Give a shout out!  But shout loud, because I'll probably be wearing my earphones. :)

Music in the soul can be heard by the universe. ~ Lao Tzu

Sound Blast from the Past

High school band, 1968

Last night, I attended my oldest granddaughter's instrumental concert.  I missed the first one, so going to this one, themed for the holidays, was one I didn't want to miss.  Because these were middle school band and orchestra students, many of them are just beginning their musical journey.  But I must say I was impressed with their playing--especially the 6th graders, who played after only a few months of instruction.  The teacher/conductor also impressed me.  Sure, there were some missed notes and, as I and my fellow former high school band members can remember, the tempo of each piece being played tends to speed up as the end approaches.  Last night, they handled that very well.

My granddaughter plays the viola.  She wanted to play the cello, but she's on the tiny side, and the girl across the street from me won out on that one.  By the way, the girl across the street is a sweetie and friend with both of my granddaughters.  I remember wanting to play the cello.  For a year or so when I was ten, I took private French lessons with a group of older girls, one a neighbor.  They were in what's now middle school at the time.  I'd learned French in fourth grade, so I at least had a clue.  That and the fact that a family friend had taught me several French phrases and to count from one to ten before I ever started school.  The daughter of the woman who taught those of us in the private group played the cello.  I fell in love with it.  So how did I end up playing flute?  I have no idea, but I did.  (I also missed seeing JFK before he was elected President, all because I had to go to French lessons.  Who knew?)

Watching the middle school students last night and listening to them play brought back memories of being a member of my high school band.  I went to a small school (56 in our graduating class), where the only instrumental was band.  A good thing I didn't take up the cello!  Because our junior high shared the building with the high school, we 7th and 8th graders were integrated into the high school band.  We were pretty good.  But we got better.

Senior year, the second year without our beloved band teacher.

My freshman year in high school, we were introduced to a new music (band and vocal) teacher.  He was young, had a wife that was just as young and fun, and two small children.  We adored them, and especially him, whether band members or vocal music members.  He worked us hard, especially the marching band.  We went from a disordered bunch of kids on the football field at halftime, scrambling to find our places to create a cherry tree (George Washington) and a stovepipe hat (Abraham Lincoln) to a precision, synchronized marching band.  You've probably seen college bands perform during football games

Goofing off after a parade (no, not me)

that do the same on a much bigger scale.  We had no idea how our movements appeared to onlookers as we zigged and zagged across the field, eight steps to each five yards, while playing.  Or marched in a parade, all in same step, while dodging piles of horse...well, you know.  Bill. Rotter knew not only how to teach music, he knew how to make playing it a joy.  He could also play a mean sax and piano.  One of my best memories is of him playing the piano and singing the song, Little Egypt for us.  (Only 'us oldies' remember it. ☺)  He was fun, he was talented, and he was the best.  His second year, we competed in a state marching contest and won a I rating, the highest.  The nearly 6 hour round trip was worth it.  He

Napping-or trying to-on the bus

left us a year later, moving on to direct at a community college in Pratt, KS.  Some of us visited him and his family there one weekend.  One very memorable weekend with good friends, not simply a former teacher.  He's now in Oklahoma, directing a band of his making and bringing enjoyment to many.

Those are the things that went through my mind last night, as I watched the 6th, 7th, and 8th grade bands and orchestras perform.  When Carol of the Bells played, I remembered singing it in vocal music.  It's one of my favorite songs of the Christmas season.  But our favorite in band, not played last night, was Sleigh Ride.  Each time we played it i concert, the audience was on its feet, applauding and cheering when it ended.  I can't hear the song without thinking of Mr. Rotter, standing before us, waving his wand, while we made magic the way he taught us.  We were blessed, and they continue in our memories.

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. ~ Victor Hugo

The Music of Our Lives

Procrastination isn't all that bad.  It can bring on a bit of nostalgia.

While listening to one of my playlists as I work on edits, a sudden urge to check out Burton Cummings of  the band The Guess Who hit me.  That led to learning that he and Randy Bachman (Bachman Turner Overdrive aka BTO), who was a member of the band for a while, co-wrote many of The Guess Who's hit songs.  And to think I saw them in concert in 1970.

For Christmas in 1967 I received my first stereo record player.  It looked similar to this one ↑, and I was wildly ecstatic.  Stereo, for goodness sake!  And an album to play on it, too!  Simon and Garfunkel's Sounds of Silence.

I grew up in a home that where music was listened to often and appreciated.  Sure, that meant watching The Lawrence Welk Show, a favorite of my parents for many years, but I can now recognize many of the songs from the 1940s---yes, before I was born--and the bands and vocalists from the era.

When I was four-years-old, my parents bought a small, neighborhood grocery store.  The memory of those two or so years are still strong.  In the far back corner of the store, near the meat counter, where a real butcher worked, a radio sat high on a shelf.  Music played all day long, much of it Country-Western music.  To this day, listening to Tennessee Ernie Ford singing Sixteen Tons is like being in that store again.

Growing up, my next door neighbors were more like family to me, an only child.  They were the ones who took me trick-or-treating every Halloween, taught me how to play jacks, hopscotch, to shoot a basketball and ride a bike.  The oldest was a teenager in high school, about the time I was eight, and Kay plastered her walls with Elvis Presley.  To this day, I've never swooned over him.  I usually cringe. :)  Between Kay and her younger sister Margaret, they had a record collection of 45s that were to die for.  Pat Boone, Ricky Nelson, Eddie Fisher, Connie Francis, Bill Hayley and the Comets, and more.  I was allowed to borrow them.  At my first slumber party (today's sleepover) in third grade, we managed to crash & break my bunkbed by swinging on the end of it, while we listened to Perry Como singing Hot Diggity.

A quick jump forward to the early 60s.  Neil Sedaka,, the Four Seasons, the Everly Brothers, Brenda Lee, Chubby Checker, Johnny Mathis, Little Richard were only a few of the hit-makers.  We learned to do the Twist, the Mashed Potato, and the Locomotive.  Then came cruisin' music and surfer music--The Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, The Hondells, the Safaris.

And then came the British Invasion.  The Rolling Stones getting satisfied, the Dave Clark 5, The Byrds, The Monkees and the never-to-be-forgotten Beatles topped the charts.  I still listen to Marvin Gaye, The Mamas and Papas, the Temptations and the Lovin' Spoonful and so many I can't list them all.  Those were the groups of my generation, the generation that protested The "War" That Shouldn't Have Been.

I still listen to all of those groups and their music.  My playlists are endless, and I've learned that William Congreve's "Music has Charms to soothe the savage Breast" is still as accurate today as it was in the 17th century.  Music can comfort and uplift, energize and calm.  Listen to your favorite music and refill the well of your soul.

Music is the universal language of mankind. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Soothing the Savage Pre-Holiday Insanity

If the weather hadn't suddenly decided to turn colder and yesterday hadn't dawned with snow (barely) covering the ground, the idea that Christmas is only a few days away would be either laughable or a total shock to the system.

Oh, we've been working toward the insanity of the holidays.  There was Thanksgiving...which is barely a misty memory.  And there's been the shopping.  Even last night Mallory and I were buying a few more mini-bows for packages.  The tree has been up and decorated since...well, whenever the Heisman Trophy winner was announced...and wasn't Collin Klein.

I admit I've lost track of time.  Deadlines are part of the problem.  The last was just a week ago.   And although I shouldn't admit it, I'm not a big holiday person.  I'm not sure why.  I loved holidays as a child...a teen...and even a young adult.  Somewhere along the line, something caused me to adopt a slight Scrooge-view of the winter holidays.  However, I do try.  In fact, I decided I needed to put on my jingle bells.

Music.  Christmas music.  From Trans-Siberian Orchestra's A Mad Russian's Christmas to Gene Autry's Frosty the Snowman to The Carpenter's Carol of the Bells and I'll Be Home for Christmas and back to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite.  Those are my jingle bells.  This year it started later than usual, but only because I've been focused on so many other things.

Yesterday Mallory and I attended the program at the elementary school where the four oldest of the g-kids attend.  Kindergarten through fifth graders gathered in the gym-sized lunch room, along with tons of family and friends.  It was a real crush. ☺  Afterward over an hour of listening to their Christmas songs, we gathered the two boys to take them home, while the two girls went to their after-school activity.  To my surprise, I was given a stack of twenty thank-you cards from the third grade class where I gave a talk on writing last week.  I still smile when I think of those hand-drawn cards and hope I encouraged those who are sometimes too afraid to share their dreams and ideas on paper.  And gave them a tiny glimpse into the world of published writing.

All of this is a round-about way of saying that music can often make a huge difference.  Of course choosing the right music matters, but when it comes to Christmas music, it's really, really hard to keep the spirit of the season--no matter what the holiday and in spite of sunny, warm weather--while listening to favorites.  Ooooh!  Harry Connick, Jr singing Let it Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow.  What gets better than that?

Once the holidays have past, I'll be back on a regular blogging and writing schedule.  In fact, after Christmas we'll get started again on setting goals...because it's THAT time of the year again.

Sometimes a Song...Says It All

"In February of 2005, Dan went to Colorado for a few weeks to supervise some ranch business and to do some work in the studio. I stayed in Maine to oversee the final construction phase of our Maine house. It was hard for us to be so far apart for so long, especially since we would miss Valentine's Day together.

On the afternoon of the 14th, the florist delivered a dozen long-stemmed red roses; FedEx delivered a CD of a song Dan had written for me for Valentine's Day. "Sometimes A Song"
    ~ Jean Fogelberg

The Gathering - Motivation Mondays

I finally have the motivation I've been needing.

My weekend was spent getting caught up on as many pending things as possible.  Those things included attending my writers' group meeting, trying to sketch a possible work schedule that would allow me to meet some unofficial (for now) writing deadlines, along with the usual website design projects, blogging, social media-ing, family, eating, and, most importantly, sleeping.  I'm still working on tying up some loose ends today.

Okay, I haven't quite made it to the loose ends yet, but I'm working on it.  I'd hoped to have everything lined out by the time I went to bed last night.  Sadly, I didn't and I'm behind.  In fact, blogging time on my schedule is to be done much earlier in the day--like before lunch.  Can you tell that I have a bad habit of over-scheduling myself?

I'm a master at making schedules (and lists!  Lots of lists!) and deciding when and how long I should spend on projects.  Sometimes it works great!  Sometimes it fails miserably.  The first step is gathering everything I need to reate the schedule that will--or won't--get me through whatever needs to get done.  Below is a short and incomplete list of some of the things I need when I begin a new writing project.

1. Calendar - If only an everyday, run-of-the-mill calendar would work, I'd use one.  Instead, I create my own calendar with MS Word's calendar template.  That way I can keep a permanent version on my computer and have a printed version, too.  To begin it, I break the big goal down into monthly, weekly, and daily goals. (Remember those blogs on setting goals?  That's where this comes in.)  I try to build in a little extra time so I won't be in a crunch when deadline nears.  The calendar keeps me on target so I don't have to wonder how far I've gone and how far I have yet to go.  I'm visual, so seeing my progress on paper (or computer screen) is my daily motivation.
2. Three-ring Binder - Everything I need about the story I'm writing goes into the binder.  Everything.  From photos of the hero and heroine slipped into the front of the clear cover, to a list of the characters, a printed copy of the storyboard, and age charts.  There's even a calendar for each book so I can keep my timelines straight.  Portability makes it easy to go from room to room, and I can also take it along wherever I go.
3. Red Ink Pens - Not any pen with red ink will do.  Only Pilot Precise V5 Rolling Ball with Extra Fine tip is acceptable.  In a pinch, I've used others.  But I always come back to my favorite.  Red ink makes edits easier to see, and the tiny tip keeps corrections from becoming a muddy blur.  I try to keep several backups on hand.  If Pilot stops making them, I'll be lost.
4. Forms - Yes, that's what I said. Some of the forms go into the three-ring binder, some reside only in the folder I create on the computer for each book.  I made it easier by creating a blank template for each, so they're ready to go when needed.
5. Playlist - Sometimes there are specific songs that evoke images of a character or a scene, or even an overall feeling of what the book is about.  Other times any "slow dance music" works fine.  For me, a playlist is often created as I'm writing, instead of before I begin.

Each writer eventually learns what works best.  But even so, we still manage to tweak and poke and start anew, hoping to discover something that might make things go easier.  It's a real gathering of ideas, material, and goals that change as we grow as writers.

I'm hoping the get-ready-to-write gathering I've done these last three days will make tomorrow's goal of writing a little easier.  What do you do to get ready when starting a new writing project?  What motivates you to gather those things?

It is only in the world of objects that we have time and space and selves. - T. S. Eliot

Put on Some Music and DANCE! - Motivation Monday

I have a tendency to let things get me down.  I don't know where it came from, because I wasn't this way as a child.  Some days, it doesn't take much for the gloom to set in.  An unpleasant word from someone I barely know, a look at my bank balance at the wrong time of the month, even nothing at all, just a down feeling when I get out of bed.

Now and then I'll wallow in the blues, but eventually I'll remind myself that I'm not doing myself any good.  That's when I look for something external to fix my internal.  And one of the best things I've found--and the quickest to work--is music.

Many writers listen to music while they work.  It's inspirational for a lot of us and helps us get in the mood to write.  Some even have specific playlists for each book that help them get in the mood for particular scenes, characters, or parts of the book.

I have several playlists.  One is for writing, and it happens to be playing right now.  Peter Cetera's Restless Heart.  Not only is it writing inspirational, but it has a great beat, and I swear it's hard to stay in my seat while listening to it.  That means it motivates me to get moving. ☺

But the playlist I listen to the most is my "walking" playlist--that I've never used for walking.  Instead, it's the one that can pull me out of the doldrums and get me on my feet.  And getting up and on my feet, making the blood pump faster, never fails to make me feel better.  It only takes one song to put a smile on my face.  When used in conjunction for writing motivation, it nearly always leads me to sit down, put my hands on the keyboard, and write.

One song that can literally drag me to my feet and get me moving is Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark---and I'm not a big Springsteen fan.  There's one problem.  As I'm getting up out of my chair, my groan fills the room.  Years ago--and I mean many years ago--I took an aerobics class that used the song for one of the routines.  It was painful.  But before my groan has run its course, I'm moving.  I can't help it, and that's what I need.  (Reminder to self:  Download that song and add to playlist.)

Even in the car I use music.  There's something about driving alone that can sometimes bring on the feelings that take me down.  Maybe it's the other drivers, who seem to think they're the only ones on the road?  I'm not sure.  It's quite possibly a very bad habit that began before and during my divorce.  The car was the one place where I could be alone.  Now that I've realized how therapeutic music has become for me, as soon as I feel myself slipping into the gloomies, I turn on the radio.  I must be blessed at times like these, because the song playing has inevitably been a perfect mood-lifter.  Or maybe the DJs are psychic?  Whatever, I'm grateful.

I listen mostly to Oldies, ranging mainly from the '50s to the '80s.  Throw in some Country, the occasional Classic, and even some old Show Tunes, and I'm a happy camper.

What gets your blood pumping?  What lifts your spirits?  Is it music?  Or something else?

Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons.  You will find it is to the soul what a water bath is to the body. - Oliver Wendell Holmes