A Grind, A Plop, and A Lot Of Smoke--And Inflicting Pain

How did your New Years go? Ours went off with a bang...or maybe I should say a grind, a plop, and a lot of smoke. Here's how it went down.

First Hubby's car started making a horrible grinding sound. You know the kind that means your car just became roadkill, and you immediately see an image of yourself as a Flintstones character followed closely by dollar signs. Lots of them.



But we weren't smiling.

And we don't have a dinosaur for a pet. Just saying.

As for the plop, well it was worse than the grind--for Kid B at least, and for my heart. You remember how I blogged about the magic of Christmas and waiting for decades for my disabled sons to get excited? And how it had finally happened? And how happy I was?

Well, Kid B asked for something for the very first time. Ever. He wanted a Mario Cart DS. And that was all. It's the only thing he's ever wanted in fourteen years, and he asked for it every day. A lot. Santa brought it cause he's an old softy.

Kid B had five glorious days with his DS, then it slipped from his fingers and fell with a plop into, you guessed it, the toilet. The evil thing ate it.



We, yet again, shoved a hand down the toilet and retrieved the DS. It now lies in pieces in a bag of rice drying out for a week accompanied by fervent prayers for a miracle.

Kid B feels like this:



Except he's a lot bigger and has more hair. Oh, and more clothes.

I feel worse.

Now on to the smoke. Sigh. Sunday we prepped a chicken to cook while we went to church. I set the oven for 325 degrees and headed out the door. Three-and-a-half hours later we came home and opened the door to billowing smoke. Like this:



But without the flames. Every sad story must have at least one silver lining, that's ours.

One of our kids (probably Kid C cause he often inspires...er inflicts drama on us) helped us out by cranking the oven to 475. Yup. Smoke and charred chicken. And smell that bonded on a molecular level with every surface in our home. Ug.

Yes, it was that kind of weekend.

What does this have to do with writing? Tons. As a writer you must inflict pain on your characters, loads of it, like some demented torturer obsessed with producing tears and heartbreak.

Why? It helps them. Really it does. It provides challenges for them to overcome, and they morph into a hero right in front of your eyes as they rise above all the pain and suffering. It also creates sympathy. You love them for their pain. (This means you should love me right now. Just saying. He he.)

Think about Katniss, would you love her as much if nothing bad ever happened to her? Or Harry Potter? What if he'd had a great childhood with loving parents, and friends, and magic in his life, and roses, and lots of great food, and a dog, and and and... Well, he'd be boring for one, and not nearly as endearing as the Boy Who Lived.

So, does this make me feel better about my weekend? Yes. A little. After all, who wouldn't want to be compared to awesome characters in some small way? I mean, I can go to the grocery store today and tell some poor, unsuspecting stranger that me and Katniss are buds. (And, yes, the odd looks will be so worth it.) Maybe I will even morph into something wonderful in time. Here's to hoping and overcoming drowned gameboys.

The Aftermath of Christmas

It's that time of year--the aftermath of Christmas. All the presents have been opened, the floor is littered with crumpled wrapping paper, and the tree looks like this:




The magic of the season seeps back into the frozen ground, waiting, waiting, waiting for next Christmas. Everyone feels it, this loss, and wanders around the house with a What do we have to look forward to now? expression on their faces.

I don't know about you, but this year I have my answer in the form of a story that has been tugging on my shirt tails for almost a year, begging to be told. I've had to hush it up. Until now. And I'm almost giddy with the expectation and promise of new adventure.

I know it will be work, but it will be thrilling work getting to know the characters that will play out their lives in my mind. It's like meeting new friends and rushing off to join in their life and death struggles.

So, how about you? What thrilling possibilities will you turn to in the aftermath of Christmas? What grand new adventures will this new year hold for you?

Contest Winners!

The time has come to announce the contest winners. Can you hear the anticipation? And yes, you can hear anticipation if you listen hard enough. It kind of sounds like drum rolls. Hark, I hear them now.

Here is Kid D picking winner number one:




And the winner of the Barnes and Nobel gift certificate is:



Wren!

The winner of the hand drawn facsimile of a Barnes and Nobel gift certificate (non-negotiable but still really cool) is:



Jonene! You lucky woman you.

And last of all, the winner of the twenty-five page critique is:



Donea!

Well, the drum rolls are fading so that must be the end. Thanks to everyone who entered the contest. And thanks to all you guys out there reading. *Grins*

If you are a winner of one of these fabulous prizes, send me an email at klmaw@aol.com so I can get your addy. I will drop the prizes in the mail right after Christmas because I'm not crazy enough to brave the post office today or tomorrow. *Shudders*

Thanks again everyone and Merry Christmas!

Christmas Wonder

This is the last week for my contest. Click here for details.

Christmas is just three days away. Three, not four because you don't count today. I know this because Kids B, C, and D told me so. A lot. And by a lot we're talking national debt numbers here.

The fun part of this is, they are so excited. Wonder walks around my house every moment in the form of those three kids. And we've waited a long time for it to come. With the boys' disability they never got Christmas until last year. Kid B's fourteen. That's a lot of waiting for wonder to strike. But strike it has. They're all bursting with it.

Their little bodies squirm and the magic name of Santa falls from their lips more times than they can breathe. Reindeer dance on the rooftops, elves peek in windows, and every present holds a wish my children can hold and shake.

It's more than a single Christmas worth of excitement. It's years of waiting, hoping, and faith all bundled up and delivered to me. And I thank my Lord for it, after all, he understands Christmas best. It all started with him and his own son. And the wonder of a special night.

Maybe as the years thunder past my boys will come to see the true miracle of the night, not in a jolly fat man and brightly wrapped presents, but in Christ. That is worth waiting decades for.

Merry Christmas.

A Night With Jon Schmidt

Don't forget my contest is still on. Click here for details.

Recently I received an early Christmas present--a night out with my hubby and Kid A to a Jon Schmidt concert. And if you don't know who he is, I mourn for you. Check out this video.



Now, you might be wondering why I'm blogging about this. Here are three reasons:

1: Jon is freaking awesome.

2: His music moves me.

3: I write to him every day.

Not like a letter from some creepy stalker woman, I listen to him. When I sit down to write, I plug Jon into my soul and he helps the words spill out of me. I think it's because you can feel the emotion in his songs, and writing is an emotional thing. If you can't impact a readers feelings, you've failed. Miserably.

So, the concert was a big thing for me. Needless to say, I was excited. I think you could say giddy. I yelled like a teenager at a rock concert. I reveled in the beauty of the music. I ignored my sister when she poked me on the shoulder and told me to shush. Sorry, Sis, I love you, but it's a yelling kind of thing to be surrounded by the music that helps inspire you to create. And I wasn't the only one cheering. The guy is good. :)

And now I feel pumped and ready to crank out another book. AND I have two new albums to sink into as the words and stories and people fall from my mind. What a fabulous Christmas present.

What inspires you?

Contest and Free Stuff

This is my ninety-fourth post. What does that mean? It means I'm approaching 100, and my 100th post will fall on December 23, 2010. What does that mean for you? It means prizes. Think of it as Christmas presents from me to you. What kind of presents? Since I'm a poor aspiring writer--books. Well, to be completely accurate, one $15.00 Barnes and Noble Gift Certificate, one authentic, hand-drawn facsimile of a Barnes and Nobel gift certificate(non negotiable, but really cool), and a twenty-five page critique of your own fabulous novel. What else did you expect from a writer?

Here are the rules:

The contest opens now and runs until midnight the 22nd.

You enter by spreading the word about my blog. You know the drill, tweet about it, Facebook it, yell it from the roof tops. Then post a comment telling me you did your duty. You get one point for every social media blurb, just leave me a link so I can check up on you (like Santa seeing if you've been naughty or nice).

You get one point if you become a follower and leave a comment.

You get two points for loyalty if you are already a follower and leave a comment.

You also get a point if you add up your points so I don't have to do math.

Each point equals one slip of paper with your name on it. The slips will all be tossed in a bowl like green salad and then eaten. Oh wait, Kid D will choose three lucky winners, and I'll announce them on the 23rd.

Also, if you don't happen to be a writer and don't have twenty-five pages you want critiqued, you can opt out of that prize or gift it to a writing buddy. Just let me know in your comment if you don't want to be included for that prize. (Crazy talk, I know.)

Anywho, thanks for making my blog a fun place to visit! Let the contest begin! Merry Christmas. :)

Preparing for the WIFYR Workshop

Woohoo!It's almost here! The WIFYR Workshop! And I'm going! What is the WIFYR Workshop? It's a five day writer's workshop in Salt Lake City, Utah, and it's amazing. Did I mention I'm going?

For you non-writers out there, this is the equivalent of Christmas. Really it is. I get to hang out with, and be taught by, great writer peeps for five days. What could be more exciting?

Oh yeah, getting a contract with a fab publisher. That would be like Christmas, and your birthday, and Thanksgiving, and Easter, and . . . . Well you get the idea. It would be good.

So how is WIFYR like Christmas? You get presents in the form of the other writer's submissions. Here's a pic of what's come in so far.



Yes, you see right. That's a good inch-and-a-half of manuscript pages with more to come. What do you do with these submissions? Your read them, critique them, and wallow in misery because they are so much better than your own submission. How much time do we have to do this? Six days. Ack!

I bet you didn't realize Christmas could be so stressful.

It gets better. Once there, the other writers spend the five days sharing their opinions about your work. It's kind of like having your entrails forcibly removed, but in a good way. I learned so much from last year's disemboweling, and I can't wait to do it again.

Yeah, writers are crazy people.

We also get to hang out with agents and editors. Yup, Christmas.

What things in your life are like Christmas? Drop a line and share your passions and dreams. Think of it as a present for me! Gee, thanks!