Here is my random group of random Internet musings and links that I’ve discovered
recently and want to curate for the rest of the world:
Ha! I knew there was a reason beyond the fact that I’m the mother of two toddlers that I wear the same thing everyday. I’m trying to achieve simplicity!
I’m a huge Stephen King fan. The recent articles in Rolling Stone magazine are lush with details and research. (As a bonus, the first sidebar linked to this story about King’s sons Owen King and Joe Hill. I’ve read Joe Hill and have enjoyed his work, need to read Owen King’s debut novel.)
I only caught the tail end of the whole “Alex from Target” … phenomenon … thing? New York Times takes a look at the flip side of achieving viral fame. I said this in a Facebook comment – I will never understand death threats. You hate a guy because he’s on the Interwebs. So you make a death threat? Seems a little irrational.
And because no Friday Fare is complete without some offering to foods that I hope to cook someday (see my note about being the mother of two toddlers above), here’s something that could make a great addition to any Thanksgiving table.
Listening to: I’ve been binge watching/listening to YouTube playlists. Alan Jackson singing at George Jones’ funeral? Old 1990s country music videos (think Reba McEntire with BIG HAIR, Vince Gill with a pseudo-mullet, and Mama Judd herself in what looks like a cross between pleather and latex.) Why 1990s country music? Well, this happened:
After seeing Garth Brooks and attending one of the best concerts of my life, I’m feeling pretty nostalgic for the music I used to hear on the radio – on the school bus, while busing dishes at my great-aunt’s diner, in my dad’s barn …
Reading: Just finished the final book in Nora Roberts’ “Dark Witch / Cousins O’Dwyer” trilogy. I read it in a day, so it must have been good.
Fiction update: I’ve hit something of a wall. After reading this blog post from Chuck Wendig, I’m taking these words to heart: “And that, I think, is one of the things that separates the Aspiring Not-Really-Writers from the Really Real Writers — the latter group writes even when it’s hard, even when the motivation is a dry well, even when the inspiration seems like a dead or dying thing. They hook the car battery jumper cables up to the coyote’s car-struck carcass and rev the engine and make the damn thing dance yet again. Seems dead, but isn’t. Every day then is an act of revivifying your own abilities and motivations. The act of writing becomes clarifying to the act of writing. To restate the principle for the third time: momentum begets momentum.” I work to be a Really Real Writer, even when that means I have a little voice parroting in my head: “This is shit. These words … shit. You are shit. Still shitty.” One foot in front of the other. One word at a time.
I’ve had some incredible moments during revisions – I’m not currently experiencing that. But I can do this. And if I show up every day, I’ll make progress. Progress can be revised. Progress is the goal. Completion is the goal.