Sunday, October 29, 2006

moving

day coming up. Leaving blogger for stacyjacobs.com. Join me there?

testing

1-2-3

saving

daylight, fall back and all that. What a concept! I'm still pretty uncomfortable, so tossing and turning until my bedside clock had a five in it, at which point I decided to toss it in and re-acquaint myself with my normal routine. Come down to the computer where it says something obscene like 4:15 a.m. Just now figuring out that it's the fall back morning. Duh. Good thing it will be an hour earlier when I finally get tired again and go back to bed. I'm seriously behind in everything, but starting to feel like my old self. My family arrived on Friday, we're together to celebrate the fall birthdays (Zach, Tristan, Grandma, Larry, Mom, George, Joanna, Haley, Jim) ... wow, Kate and I are the only non-birthday'ers. We're BBQing at my brother's this afternoon at his house in Minooka, Illinois (which I believe you'll find on e-podunk.com); on the way out there we'll all stop at the Hallmark store (Walgreens, more likely) to buy birthday cards for everybody, going to do the great birthday card exchange. I anticipate some significant chaos in the birthday card department. Clean up on Aisle Six. My poor story has been sitting in a drawer for far too long. Unless I stumble upon a secret wellspring of writing energy, I won't be finishing this draft by the first of the year. But I'm actually pretty far along, so the situation isn't completely bleak; if I am able to get back on track and spend four or five mornings a week really working, then I'll certainly have a good shot at meeting the goal. I worry that if I don't stay committed to the goal, I won't finish the story. I'll be fine, of course. I'll be getting ready to play championship bridge, I'll be working out, I'll be playing on the beach with my children, I'll be hanging with some of my most favorite friends for Thanksgiving, I'll come back and my upstairs floors will have been re-done, the hall will have been re-painted, my shower may then be free of rot. Then I'll do a lot of laundry and start the planning/shopping/wrapping concerto that plays through the month of December, until, with a contented sigh, I'll kiss my family to welcome the new year. Then I think about Eleanor -- held against her will -- and Barbara and Beckett and ... why do these folks all have names that start with B? That's very strange.... 5:39 a.m. now. I think I'll get to work. Thanks for waiting, I'm sorry I was gone so long. xo

Sunday, October 22, 2006

rooting

for an NL win tonight and overall. Dontchya think the Cardinals are overdue?

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

too much

Talking. When my reading group read through the first chunk of text (roughly corresponding to chapters 1 & 2), they came back and said there was just way too much talking. Too true. My second chunk of text comes up in the workshop tonight. I anticipate more "too much talking." Again that's a good and fair criticism, and one I'm spending lots of time working through. The truth is, I have an ear for dialogue; it comes easily to me. When I'm stuck in a section, I dip into the conversations to see what's going on, and therefore my chapters are pretty dialogue-heavy. This morning I'm reading Lee Child and Elizabeth George for some perspective on effective ways of showing without telling. Seems like something I should know by now. Like I said, I may fail. Booking the spring and summer bridge travel this week. Very exciting. We're actually working on planning a summer at home. Wow. Haven't had one of those ... since who knows when! Taking a short blogging break starting this evening, will be back early next week.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

look

what we did this afternoon. Getting ready for the big day!

regular angst

This morning I'm considering it a victory -- I've reached that point in the writing of a chapter where I doubt everything that's written; I'm thinking about my characters and second guessing each and every decision I've made thus far, almost convincing myself to go back and start from page one. That's where I am now. Talking myself out of going back. In fact I think I'm all done with thinking about going back. Now the fun starts. The next step happens when I engage myself in debate about the general merits of the various pieces already on the page. What kind of victim is Eleanor? What does her suffering look like, from the inside out? Or is it not really relevant, what's happening with my victim -- am I writing a story where the character is completely revealed but never actually seen? There's something cool there, but I'm not sure I want to get into it. But wait, that definitely goes along with the bridge setting, doesn't it? And so I go, meandering through the various steps and aspects, until finally I give myself a good old-fashioned scolding, tell myself to plant my sorry butt in the chair and get the work done. Part of the problem, realistically, is that the early sections are still so raw. The voices are indistinct, the characters are, in some cases, unsatisfyingly filled. I tell myself that the best thing to do is continue moving forward, applying what I learn as I go, with the intention of going back through it once it's all on paper and making it right. I think the art comes in the second draft... I know. I may fail.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

the end

isn't finished, but it's off to a great start. Yesterday got away from me, as days often do, so I didn't set about writing the ending until 5:30 this morning. I finished about 4,400 words before the kids got up at 8:30. Since then it's been busy, but I'm well on my way. Those first 4,000 are the hardest, you know?

Friday, October 13, 2006

ambition

My closet is generally choking on pants and towels and t-shirts, usually there are tank-tops and bathing suits dripping from drawers, pajamas are often shoved into an available nook or out-of-sight cranny, so as to be hidden from the mindful eye of She Who Does Laundry. Shoes ooze out of the baseboards. As a sturdy room nobly doing its purpose, the closet would be pitiable -- classically overworked and underpaid; into this trembling structure toss a mountain of discarded tags stashed under and between, silken threads with concealed gold safety pins looking to strike. A collection of fabrics still wrapped in plastic, suited up and ready to do battle, an enemy army of shoes still in boxes, armed and dangerous. Yesterday I cleaned it all out. My cold weather clothes sit quietly in place, calm and relaxed and ready for a productive and peaceful season. Today I write the ending.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Too tired to be witty. Or clever. Or even coherent. Last of the Door County photos...

character

My favorite two characters: Joanna & Kate. Focusing on that housecleaning -- will write this evening. Cheers!

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

journal wednesdays

I'm taking two classes this fall: the one on Tuesday mornings is an exercise class, of sorts. The instructor prompts us with a starting sentence or the direction to "write a scene where..." We write for three or four or five minutes (it's never enough) and then read what we've done. It isn't competitive in any way: the writing's not great, we don't comment on the content of the work, only how it speaks to the particular exercise. The value in the exercises is the practice just writing. The practice writing descriptively, and quickly, and without the constant feedback of Myself, The Critic. I walked into this class planning to direct all of my exercises at Keeping Score, and with one exception I've done that. I've made several interesting discoveries about the secrets my characters are keeping -- from each other and themselves -- as a result of the scene's I've written in five minutes or less. "Take an alien character and put him/hr in a setting that is familiar to us, but make it unfamiliar to the character." Ugh. I can't imagine wanting to apply this to a bridge room. Well, damn. Now that I'm thinking about it again, I can think of all sorts of ways to work usefully within my manuscript. But I couldn't think of anything quickly at class yesterday, and I hate to waste the writing time trying to think of something to say. So here's what came out.

Squealing, they are. Separate, together, singly many. Darting, they are, herky-jerky bodies in motion. Hard and cold, this is. Bumply black with yellow lines around which they shriek and holler. Cold, it is. Colors, they sound and boing around, orange balls like heads pushed and shoved, kicked and caught. Across the way, the smaller ones, infants, they are. Hatchlings, learning to fly. Soft, woody, the landing pad for hatchlings. Yes. My own hatchlings would land softly there. These small ones are afraid, never let go. Curious, they are. How will they learn to fly? Jangling, loud and cold. Primitive, they are. A call to order, it is. Darting and shrieking again, and cold, their essences alight inthe atmosphere, little breath-puffs of life riding out on their laughter as they arrange themselves, smallest to largest, and stand still.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

door

I'd been thinking that we'd go to Minneapolis to visit our dear friend Peggy, hit the Mall of America, bop around and see the colors in the great north. George came home on Thursday and said he'd booked us a house on the water in Door County, Wisconsin. I'd never been up there and was a bit put out that he was raining on my parade, but in the interest of peace and harmony managed to keep my mouth shut. (Nod sagely...) We stayed in Sturgeon Bay, in a dumpy little house right on the water. We drove around and around, looking at the colors and talking about buying a place and stopping to check out the art fair, the pumpkin farm, the rocky Lake Michigan shore. It was a lovely few days with George and the children -- completely relaxing. I have such a fondness for rural America. We went into Fish Creek on Saturday night for a fishboil. George raved and raved about the spectacle and great food. Fish Creek -- great little beach town, right next to Egg Harbor (a Jacobs family favorite breakfast spot). The food wasn't all that -- salted water, Lake Michigan Whitefish (eeew), red potatoes, small sweet onions in a vast cauldron, gurgling away pretty merrily until ka-fvoooom!, the beefcake throws a pitcher of kerosene on the fire and it tosses up an explosion's worth of fire that the saltwater boiling over quickly douses. My girls are better eaters than I was at their age, they both ate the fish and loved it. I like my fish like my steaks, for the most part. (Jen, was I totally ridiculous eating lobster in Boston that time? Yesyesyes....) Now we're back and I'm doing some housekeeping -- emotional and otherwise. Gearing seriously up for Hawaii. Starting to think about what I'm going to look like in a bathing suit. (eeek!) Working on the book, the bridge, the body. Oooh, Baby!

Monday, October 09, 2006

back

and wiped out. photos and the story tomorrow. xxoo

Friday, October 06, 2006

at long last

the family Jacobs is heading out on a road trip. We're leaving in the morning for Door County, where Geo has booked us a cottage on the lake. I'll take photos and post them when we're back -- unfortunately, looks like no internet connection there. Hoping to spend some one-on-one time with Eleanor. Wish me luck!

a-o-k

"I see no reason to keep you from the exercise," said the ultrasound guy yesterday as he smeared the gel around on my chest. I hadn't realized that the echo part would be an ultrasound of my heart. I've had two babies, I know about ultrasounds. So I walked on the treadmill. My heart rate when I got on the thing was 70. My resting heart rate (terrifies me that I know this) is 64. My target was 160. Took just over ten minutes. The cardiologist, the ultrasound guy and the Ukranian nurse were there the whole time, cracking jokes and making me laugh. Thirty seconds after I achieved the target, they laid me back down on the table and took another ultrasound. It was tough to hold my breath for that. "Everything looks perfectly normal," said Dr. Miller, the cardiologist. "You're good to go." And that, as they say, was that. (Yes, chest still hurts and I'm still having trouble catching my breath, which is annoying and uncomfortable.) I'm about to be hard at work on brand-spaking-new chapters, the scenes have been swirling around in my head. The group critique looms large in my thinking -- they liked the dialogue, but were bothered that there's so much of it. That kind of feedback is so useful -- brings back the Francine Prose book yet again -- I see very clearly that the chapter one dialogue is too one-dimensional (all they're talking about is bridge -- there's no subtext). Easy to fix, after a fashion. I've mentioned it now several days in a row -- how tempting it is to go back and tweak the chapter while the comments are still fresh in my head. I'm resisting that urge (argh, maybe I should just do it, quit talking about it!!), and finding that the remarks are informing my new work instead. That's every bit as good, as far as I'm concerned, provided the new work also reflects the stuff the group had to say. Also a new project looming on the horizon, means I'm back dabbling in web design -- an easy way to waste boatloads of time. Stay tuned, there may be a moving announcement in my future.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

heading

to the hospital for an echo-stress-test thingie. I believe that's the technical term. According to the fabulous Dr. Hulesch, the results of this will be largely meaningless, because I don't fit the profile. What's "the norm" ? White 40 year old male. Why wouldn't they measure me against the universe of young, fit women? Wouldn't that just make so much sense? Did I mention Tara is on vacation this week? Rushing from hospital to pick up Kate, who's out of school at 11:25. Then lunch, then nap, then picking up Joanna and taking Kate to Kindermusic then cookng dinner then, maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll sit down and work on Keeping Score a little bit more. The comments last night were so helpful. I am still so tempted to go back and incorporate the suggested changes. But I'll never finish if I wait for Chapter One to be perfect....

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

chapter one

disected at workshop tonight. so many good comments! I am tempted to step backward and fuss with that chunk again, but will do my best to hold off on that. The goal from here to January is forward. Always forward. Beat. Will write something snappy or smart tomorrow.

wednesday

Started with a trip to the doctor's office. I love our doctor -- he's a neighbor, a really good guy. Been having some trouble breathing, a little chest tightness, that sort of thing. Echo-stress-test tomorrow. My paternal grandmother started having heart attacks in her early thirties ... certainly can't hurt. Don't know that we'll find anything, but I'd be ecstatic to get to the bottom of the can't-take-a-deep-breath thing. Quit smoking five years ago after smoking two packs a day for fifteen years. Maybe it's emphysema? Stay tuned... Ended up skipping class yesterday to take Joanna to the ortho yet again, another sprained ankle. Starting physical therapy next week. Poor kid! Finished a draft of the new chapter, heading to workshop shortly.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

back to school

after the holiday yesterday and the hurricane-force storm we had here last night. Driving home was a scary affair -- the streets were flooded, a tree was down blocking our street entirely, the rain came down so hard we couldn't see the tail lights of the trucks around us. The power was out when we got home (no great surprise there); we were pleasantly surprised when it came back on at 11. Working this morning then heading to class. Then perhaps a field trip in the city, then a dinner date. Till tomorrow...

Monday, October 02, 2006

yom kippur

shouldn't everyone have a day of atonement? Isn't it a good thing, to be responsible for our words and actions and to actively repent? In Judaism we believe that God can and will forgive us our lapses of faith, but that only the people we wrong can forgive us for the harm we've done them. I grew up in a faith that demanded I confess my sins and that I do a prayerful penance for those sins in order to be forgiven. So when I kicked my brother square in the ass, I confessed and said my Hail, Mary's, and went on my merry way. It's easier, by a lot, to confess and pray to God for forgiveness. God might forgive me, but would my brother? Did I forgive him? Not for years and years, until the collective good we have done each other has overwhelmed all the internecine sibling warfare between us. Would have been far simpler to just apologize. Isn't retrospect grand?

Sunday, October 01, 2006

i love this

So the Torah Is a Parenting Guide?

unbelievable

but ... have you any idea how impossible it is to find a great web designer anymore? Argh!