More pictures

Here are more pictures from the storm. I know, I know - they look like pictures of trees to you. But where you see sunshine seeping between the tree trunks, instead imagine these woods so thick the roads were forever in the shade. The pines were so close together that you couldn't see past them to what was beyond.

Now, if you look, you see lots of branches and severed trunks. It looks like a messy field. But it was, 10 days ago, a forest.

There wasn't a funnel cloud touching down, as far as I know, but the wind cut a path along the ridge line and through the pines, leaving a path of destruction much like a tornado or a cyclone.








In other, non-storm-related ramblings, I'm working on a new project and very happy about it. I've been stewing for a while on my prior WIP but have this other idea floating around in my head. After re-reading Stephen King's book On Writing I decided to get this idea out of my head and onto paper (or computer, really). It's not a romance, I'm not sure if it's book-length or a short story, and I'm not entirely certain of how it's going to end. But now I have to write it to see what happens.

Stephen King's genre doesn't interest me, so I'd never read a book of his before this one. But I really enjoyed his approach to and philosophy on writing, as well as his style. I particularly like what he says about writing and life. You'll have to read it yourself - it's on page 94 in my Pocket Books paperback edition. I've found him inspiring as I ponder my direction.

Storm pictures

I took a few pictures of some of the damage down the street. It may not look like much, but there was a whole thick forest of pines in these pictures once. The story's the same going down a one-mile stretch of the road.















The rumor is that we might get our power back Saturday - over five days after we lost it. It could have been worse, but it also could have been a lot better.

Living in th Dark Ages

72 hours without power and counting. The local paper says there are "dozens without power." I can count dozens on my street alone, so I think they've missed something. Fortunately, Bryan warned me to get a generator or get out of town for a while, so we've got some power. I have lights in my kitchen, running water, a working refrigerator, and heat. What more could I ask for? I even got to take a shower today - by candlelight, but beggars can't be choosers.

Power might not be restored soon either. The road next to us is a mess - completely blocked off. My neighbors don't have power or phone (at least I have a phone) and one can't get to his house at the top of the hill. He has to park at the bottom and walk.

The storm recovery has brought out a certain neighborliness around here. People looking out for each other, those with power offering their homes to those without. My neighbor - the one who can't get up his hill - even ran out to the store to get us some bottled water before our generator was hooked up. Kind, since he was in the same boat and has young children too. The fire department made clear to Bryan that if I needed something while he was gone, I was to call them and ask. Since he gave two days to them, they're happy to give back to us. (Within reason, I presume, but I haven't tested them yet.)

There's other darkness out there, not of the electrical kind. Global warming and our destruction of the planet, the erosion of our Constitutional rights, the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, the growing radicalism around the world including the United States. There's not much to smile about today.

I did laugh at a sig line on an email Bryan got the other day. It said, roughly:
Let's send Iraq our Constitution. We're not using it.

On a happier note, power trucks have been spotted in our area. I'm thinking we should investigate getting solar panels.

Who says there's no global climate change?

Those who think something isn't screwy with the weather need to visit New Hampshire this week. Half the state is out of power and we're due for more snow tonight and tomorrow. Usually by tax day, the most we get is a little dusting that quickly melts.

On my street, the forest behind my neighbor's house has been leveled, or so says Bryan. I haven't gone that way yet, but saw the pine forest down the other direction on the street pushed over like dominoes. Trees - not just babies, but old ones with massive root systems - are down everywhere and the power company hasn't even been to our town yet and the town's been out of power since 5:00 A.M.

The good thing is that Bryan told me to go get a generator. Unfortunately, he was too busy with the fire department to go with me. He's been out since 6:30 this morning clearing trees and roads and generally making the town safe - my hero. He came back to eat, dry out, and hook up the new generator. I bought one of the last ones at the local building store. Home Depot had the massive ones that Bryan wanted to get, but I could not make that large a purchase on my own and feel comfortable that I wasn't being taken for a ride. So the kids and I decided on a small one, which has my refrigerator going, a lamp and, temporarily at least, the laptop. However, I think I'll trade in the computer for a TV soon and see what's going on in the rest of the world. Tomorrow, Bryan might be able to hook up my well water pump. The joys of running water.

Apparently, I'm too philosophical.

That would be news to my philosophy professors in college who, I'm sure, thought I was anything but. But my husband said he was going to send my blog url to his parents and sister, then decided they wouldn't be interested, because it was all philosophical and not about family. That's an engineer for you.

So this is about family. Amelia, Alex, and Jamie put on a show for us on Easter. They had practiced it all week, planning costumes, characters, and everything. Jamie was the Easter Bunny and, for some bizarre reason, carried a bag full of play kitchen pots and pans. Alex was an Easter egg, stuffing his shirt with paper towels (now I know where they all disappear to) so he was "stuffed with fluff" a la Winnie the Pooh. And Amelia was the Easter Fairy, dressed in a very shiny pink and purple concoction from her dress-up clothes. Amelia was also director, producer, choreographer, stage manager, scriptwriter, and star. Pardon me, diva.

The production was incredibly repetitive, but very adorable. The entire plot centered on dancing around in a circle while some music played on one of their alphabet toys. There ended up being a second act, with Amelia singing a part-opera, part-Broadway showstopper musical number. It was, however, all Amelia.

The best part, besides the immortal lyrics "I love Easter because of all the candy!", was that the kids had a huge amount of fun and their parents got to rest on the couch for 15 minutes. I only wish we had a digital camera that took better videos, to have saved the moment for posterity. I'm sure we'll want it some day when the kids get older - like at a wedding, college graduation, or when they just need to be reminded who's got incriminating information about them.

Writing motivation, part II

Easter egg hunting this weekend in six inches of snow. That was a first for us. The kids were afraid the Easter bunny might not make it with all the snow, but he did. It was hard to pick the eggs up with mittens, but the kids managed it and had fun, which was the whole point.

So I've been thinking about blogging - a growing form of writing. Why do people blog? Talk about narcissistic and navel-gazing. But it's a little addictive too - an easy way to get published, in a sense. Whether anyone reads your writing is another story.

But blogging is an amazing phenomenon to me. A way for the common man to communicate with the world. Bloggers about politics making national news on election night, telling the world first reactions to things. It's a lot crap, in many ways - like they know what everyone's thinking. But people have latched onto blogging as a way of getting the word out - their word out.

Emails have started to kill letter-writing as a way to keep in touch, and historians wonder how future generations will have access to everyday history. Think about how letters during the years of WWII have helped us understand the trials and tribulations of the men and women in the war theaters and those on the home fronts. Emails aren't usually saved for posterity. How will people know about day-to-day life, first reactions to major/minor events, etc. without that record?

Maybe blogging begins to fill in the cracks.

Don't know that it's an answer to why people blog, but, navel-gazing or not, it's a reason to keep it going.

Why do we write?

Sniffling my way through the worst flu/cold bugs I've ever had - three weeks of being down with one illness, then another - and I've had tons of time to think. Unfortunately, not a lot of energy, but that's another story.

And I've been thinking about the motivation of writers, egged on after reading Evanne's post on the Writing Life ( April 2, 2007 ). Why write? For the money, for the prestige, for the lifestyle, for the pure joy of it? I'm sure for many writers, one of these hits the mark - perhaps a little of many of these. I'm not sure there's lots of money or prestige, unless you're Stephen King or you win the Pulitzer.

Lifestyle? Well, writing could be a flexible job, but it's a lot of work to be good at it and make any amount of money. I suppose you could be bad at it and make some money - c'mon, I know we've all read books and thought, "A monkey could write better than that." But, in general, having some talent is helpful to making money.

So do we do this for money or love? Like I said, few make bizillions of dollars, but many aspire to. Writers avidly follow market news and hit the hot trends - witness the slew of vampires and other supernatural creatures showing up after "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" hit it big. (Love that show!) Or they try to be ahead of the trends, anticipating what readers want and writing it for them.

In a way, it reminds me of politicians chasing polls - give the people what they want. Or what they don't want yet, but will once I write it. The mark of a good writer, to get people caught up in their plot or characters.

But where is the writer's will in this? Do writers set out to write what they want to write or what the market wants? If you only write what you want, then this seems like a huge exercise in navel-gazing. Narcissistic in the extreme. But if you're writing only what the market wants, then are you telling a tale worthy of being told? Like most reality television, you may have viewers but no value.

So perhaps the answer lies in being a mix of the two - a story you want to write for a market that is open to reading it. If you're really good, you write something worthwhile, that affects people to the core and stays with them, whether they asked for it or not. I think of books like "The Kite Runner" or "Angle of Repose" or "To Kill a Mockingbird" - my all-time favorite. Was there a publisher out there saying, "What readers are really searching for is a book that a) examines pre-, post- Soviet-invasion Afghanistan, b) follows a woman throughout her marriage to an engineer on the Western frontier, or c) tells the story of a white lawyer defending a black man in the deep South"?

Not likely. These were writers who had a story to tell, and they told it - beautifully, majestically, painfully at times. And, of course, there's much more to their stories than my glib descriptions. Some wise and fortunate publisher had the opportunity to let these works out to the world, but even now some of them aren't appreciated. I believe Wallace Stegner's "Angle of Repose" is the only Pulitzer Prize winner for literature never to be reviewed by the New York Times. (Someone correct me if I'm wrong.)

Most of this doesn't apply to me. I'm writing romance, right now at least - happy endings only please. I write because I like the stories in my head. I write because the characters want to get out on paper. I write because I like it. Am I challenging the market? No. But I can't say I'm following it either.

I'm curious. What do other writers write for?

Ocotillo, "shag" and other popular topics

Apparently Linda's book and "shag" are both comment-worthy topics. Frankly, Linda's book should be - "shag" is just an interesting side note.

This topic is popular, at least in our house: Progress is being made in the maple sugaring season. After burning our first batch of sap, we have successfully boiled down about 1 quart of maple syrup (end product). My husband is shocked that it worked, I think. He's convinced I come up with these kooky ideas for the kids to take part in and this was just next in a series, but he's been more excited than anyone. We had pancakes the other night for dinner (lazy cook dinner) - the syrup was delicious. I love New England.

Again, popular with my husband and me: my completed manuscript has been requested by a publisher. Yahoo! Even though it's just the first step, it's something to be excited about.

And your opportunity to bash on me for anachronisms: I'm working on my next book, set in 19th century England, and used a phrase in the first draft of it that seems to have come into the language in the 20 c. in the South - "hung the moon and stars." A combination of lazy writing, procrastination on research, and the hope I could scoot by with it and let it stay in the draft, but I've been caught. Properly so. At least it wasn't "shag."