The sound of adjustment

I'm going to a favorite beach this morning to walk before I undertake some stressful family duties. Sea air and the whoosh and boom of waves seem to both energize and soothe me.

What I really want is that external barrage on my senses--to still the yapping of my mind, to quell anxiety, to give me strength for the trials--and for a sad weight I'm carrying in my heart for another friend's family.

I have no idea what the beach will be like, although I did check my tide guide, which says I'll get their between the high and low tides today. If the tide is high at this beach, I walk on a trail east of railroad tracks. If the tide is low, I can go barefoot along the shore. Although it might be cold on the toes today.

The other thing that happens at this beach is periodic deposit of rocks and pebbles, all worn smooth by the grinding of surf but still too much for bare feet.

What I love about the rocky days is the sound. Have you heard it? The clattering of stones as they shift with the rush in and trickle out of each hissing, sighing wave?

What sounds do you hear? How would you write it?

Clack. Rattle. Clink.

Chatter. Can rocks chatter? I think so.

I'm listening for them to tell me how to adjust to the tides of life.

Who, me?

Honestly. What a month this has been! I don't know whether to adjust my tiara as I hobble to the podium in my strappy heels or wonder where the flower wreath came from around my sweaty neck as I stand, sides heaving, in the winners circle. I'm a NaNoWriMo winner! And, completely unattached to NaNo, Sarah has given me a scrappy award. How timely is that? (pls take a scroll down)

I never thought writing 50,000 words of a new novel in 30 days was a sane proposition. I entered National Novel Writing Month a few days before it began, mostly because so many other people were excited about it and I thought I should find out why.

What I found out is going to be the subject of another post. I want to let the dust settle before I mouth off. But my gut feeling is I learned some important stuff about the writing process.

And I love my new novel, Sea Daughters, begun Nov. 1. The idea had been brewing a long time and the walls of my writing room are covered with pictures of girls riding seahorses, turtles swimming, fish navigating kelp beds. There are piles of collected sea shells around me and a pink jellyfish in a glass paperweight (huh? It was a gift and it's pretty, especially in sunlight).

And there were signs everywhere all month. The best was me finding an old, plain seashell, worn by time in the dirt of a mountain trail many miles from the sea. I decided that meant I'd chosen the right story. And besides, the characters have been talking up a mammoth wave of words.

My Honest Scrap award comes from the hilarious Sarah With a Chance. If you don't read her blog you are missing out on great fun. The award also comes with rules. I'm supposed to tell 10 honest things about myself and pass it on to 10 bloggers. First Honest Thing: I am contrary about rules. So I propose to tell five things and choose an unknown number of bloggers (which is terribly difficult when there are so many people whose blogs I haunt). I leave the rules open for them, too. They can go 10 plus 10. Or five and five. Or they could divide again and go for 2.5. Can you tell half an honest thing?

2: (see 1 above) I am a Buffy fan forever, my personal BFF. How can I not be? Here's a quote after Buffy accidentally almost stakes Cordelia, who yells, "What is your childhood trauma!" So for all of us with childhood traumas, there is laughter in the dark.
3: I have a lifelong attraction and fear of the ocean. I can't stand to be far from the sea for very long, but I almost drowned as a small child before I learned to swim. Sometimes when I even look at photos of giant waves my heart races, and yet my NaNo novel takes place mostly in the sea.
4: I have a passion for art and love museums and galleries. I'm not an artist but I take photographs and have also created lost-wax jewelry, watercolors, collages and one stained glass piece.
5: I am not organized. I live in chaos but tend to get a lot of things done and on time. I may bend rules but I meet deadlines.


I herby pass this award to these scrappy bloggers:
Andrea Cremer
Karen Denise
Linda Kage
Wendy Prior
Karen Amanda Hooper
Corey Schwartz


And one last BIG ol' shout out. Thank you so much to the new followers and people who have commented on this blog while I have been splashing around this month. I really appreciate seeing you here--Liza, Victoria, Shannon, Stephanie, Angela, Julie, Tamika, Teri, Mary, Barb. *waves* *waves more*

At home in the universe

Earth. My planet. My home.

In all the universe, amongst white-hot stars, red dwarfs, black holes, nebula whirls and endless unknowns, there is Earth.

On Thanksgiving when many of us express gratitude I humbly suggest we remember what makes any of us possible. We get to fall in love, raise babies, play with puppies, read novels, press the keys of a piano, listen to waves rumble and collect shells. We choose lipstick shades, dive from cliffs, reel in fish, slide down mountains, fall from the skies, kiss baby feet, smoke turkeys, whip cream and snuggle under comforters.

We do all we do because this planet, our home, nourishes life. Love her back, remember and protect her so life continues to flourish in this outpost in space. Happy Thanksgiving.

This photo of a crescent of Earth courtesy of NASA Image Science & Analysis Laboratory.

That's what friends are for

Is this not a lovely award? Blogging friend Robyn at Putting Pen to Paper bestowed it upon me. Yes, bestowed upon, is the proper language for this. It's so enchanting I feel like I've been given visiting rights to Faerie.

Thanks, Robyn!

And something so pretty ought to be passed along, as well. So I offer it--with no binding agreement to any fairy--to Terresa, Shelley and Natalie, all of whom are lovely visitors and exquisite bloggers of very different styles and subjects. Drop in, enjoy their sites.

And if you haven't, ahem, noticed my sidebar, I'm kicking it on NaNo. As of this moment, 41,379 words in 23 days. And I didn't make any bargain with the fairies. At least, not that I recall.

One step leads to another

Walking leads me to places in my mind. There are two kinds of walking. One with a friend--chatty and all about catching up on gossip, listening to rants, sharing joys and sorrows. I'm talking about the other kind of walking where I'm alone, just me and my mind gone strolling. Sometimes I write whole scenes of my novels while walking.

Today, this California buckwheat caught my eye, rust-colored in its final stage of life but gorgeous against a granite boulder. I stopped to take its picture and began thinking about how death can be beautiful.

Leaves turn red and yellow when trees block off their sap supply to prepare for winter freeze. The leaves have to die to protect the trees. But it is most glorious, is it not?

In such a case, death is a sigh, a rustle on the wind, a sweet release. What would life mean if there was no death? It will take me many walks to ponder that.

As I got close to home, a man sat alone on his porch in the twilight playing a saxophone. I lingered a moment, letting the richness of the notes lead me like a Pied Piper to the streets of New Orleans. I can walk a long way in my mind and never get tired. Do you?

Bridges of the mind

Memory is such a curious thing. I've begun to think of it as little bridges we can cross where we see some bit of what's on the other side but may have to travel to find whatever we're looking for. We may get lost. We may get confused. We may change the scenery.

Do I sound obtuse? Sorry if I do, but memory isn't particularly clear cut. Ask several people about the same event and you get different viewpoints, sometimes conflicting.

I have just spent a glorious few days submerged in events with friends and family. Memories were an intense part of the experience, but I began to realize how much they differ from one person to the next. Part of that is what we choose to remember, I think, and part is that there are an awful lot of bridges and distant places in our minds. How could any of us follow the same trails? Or perhaps we know where the dragons live and are sure to avoid that direction. At one event we memorialized someone by recalling his talent and charisma, but we clearly chose not to cross the bridge to where his dragons lived. When I saw a much younger me pop up on a slide show of his life, I waved at her. I thought of her with bittersweet fondness. But I stopped halfway across that bridge and turned back. The room was filled with people whose lives were making new memories. That was the glory.

The Universe and you

The Universe has smiled on Lisa & Laura Roecker. They have a publishing deal for "A Kate Lowry Mystery: THE HAUNTING OF PEMBERLY BROWN," a novel that involves e-mail from ghosts so you know the Universe has its fingerprints all over this baby. LiLa also have themselves a Kindle, which appeared so miraculously as to hint at the Big U again, and as they are generous, highly amusing and probably superstitious, they've decided to give away this Kindle in a contest. Friday the 13th, dear reader, is your last chance to win this unique connection to the Universe. Go check it out!
In other news, I am retreating from view for two days for family things, but don't even begin to think I'm giving up on NaNo. I'm almost half way! That story will just simmer on the back burner and, hopefully, not explode all over the kitchen before I stir the pot again. Bad analogy. I'm all writ out.
Friday morning OOPS: I thought the Kindle contest lasted through today but it ended midnight. Sorry if you missed it, but don't miss out on the fabulous news posted on the LiLa blog. The Universe is doing a happy dance.