Shelf life...

Since I haven't been writing much lately - which I attribute to stress - I've been bringing some of my dinosaurs down off the shelf. These are dino's I love, poured my heart into and bled on.
And now I can see they need more blood. It's time to tap a vein for them.
This led me to see how valuable that shelf time is. If I hadn't let this go and stuck it in that dark corner of my office I don't think I'd see what I see now.

One is a story I love and I basically tried tried to write from two heads. The heroine and the hero. And now, rereading it, I can see the error of my ways. I think this would definitely be better from the hero's head since it's really not a romance. (Although we do have a sexual interlude.) I can see hero being the driving force in what happens here, but there are times when we have to see the heroine's point of view because she's the only one in the room. So do I write as the omni presence in the room or do I go into her head?
Dilemma.
Help!
Any advice?
Do you shelve it for awhile before going back for the final draft? Does it help?

Waiting for her new life to begin...

This is Sally. She's a one and a half year old Feist mix. I think she might have some chihuahua in her too. She's about 10 lbs and pretty solid. She came up from North Carolina shelter yesterday with her five puppies in a truck that had about 50 big barking dogs. The truck stops at a designated meeting place and all the rescue groups show up to claim the dogs they agreed to take. For a little dog this can be a very scary situation. Sally was absolutely terrified. Even now her tail is tucked between her legs and she stays right by my side. At first she growled at Halston but now seems to accept that Halston is just a big goof who only wants food and attention. She spent most of the afternoon exploring the house and back yard then jumped up on the couch with me to nap. She slept for about two hours. I think she was exhausted.
The puppies were 10 weeks old and have gone to different foster families. Sally is staying with us until her forever family shows up.

Bad books, Good plot

I'm reading a book by a very popular author. Same one who's audio book I finished last month and I have the same issues.
Head hopping. I've counted up to four heads on the same page and it's driving me crazy. But I keep reading because the plot is good. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate. I'll be reading along and then suddenly it's like hitting a pot hole...bam! Where am I? Wasn't I just in Claire's brain? Why am I remember things his sister said when they were four and Claire wasn't even a thought then? Okay, back track...yes, I was reading in her head and flip! now I'm in his.
And through all this I still want to know what happens next.
Good writer? Bad writer?
Now I want to go back and find the first book this author ever wrote to see if she was actually published with this rhythm or was it something now overlooked because she is more popular then Obama.
I write, I study writing, I read about writing so now I'm wondering if someone who really doesn't know that much about writing dynamics would pick up on this stuff.
What happens when good writers go bad?

Failure is not an Option...

I was wandering around over at Mark Terry's blog where he said something about NASA and that their code is "Failure is not an Option".
The post was mostly about Stephen Parrish and his new book The Tavernier Stones. (Quick! Everyone needs to order a copy right now!) and how he helped nudge Stephen to the place he needed to be to find success.
This toggled me over to Stephen's blog and how he got published. He's done more rewrites then I ever thought possible. But more than that...he never gave up.
Failure was not an option.
It was the push I needed.
It's time to get back on the horse and if I can't find the old horse. Maybe I'll just have to write me a new one. I think I'm going to take back my 20 minute rule (every time I have 20 minutes I write--something) and just write. Good or bad I'm just going to write.
I think when real life throws us curves it's easy to forget our motivation and what moves us forward toward our own successes. Imagine if Stephen Parrish had given up at one of his many rewrites?
I think sometimes we need to remember that Failure is not an option we're going to accept.
The dream you hold could change the world.

Why I can't write...

So I've been struggling with not being able to write for a couple of months now. This situation is new to me. I've been writing since I was...maybe 5 or 6? When I first discovered the joy of putting pen to paper all I wanted to do was write down stories. Things would come into my head and I'd just start putting them down. I remember when I was 8 or 9 my mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas I answered a pen and a new pad of paper. She laughed and said, "No, really, what do you want?"
But I spoke the truth. It was my idea of a perfect gift. Give me something to tell my stories with and I'll be in heaven.
So you get why this idea of not writing is like someone put the brakes on my soul. It's in there, I know it, I can still feel it but there's something blocking it, keeping it inside. Like a trapped tiger I can feel it pacing, frustration growing as it looks for an opening.
So not being able to write has led me to searching for why I'm not writing. I'm analyzing my world, my life and my relationships.
First: My daughter moved to Florida for school. She needs a job and has been looking for months. I'm worried. I know she's a smart girl, educated (BS in psychology), and a hard worker. She made the Dean's list last semester, Yay! There's no reason she can't find a job. The economy sucks, thousands upon thousands are unemployed. I have hope that the economy will turn around. There's a job for her, it will come and I try not to worry. But hey! I'm a mom, it's my vocation.
Second: I had shoulder surgery three years ago. I still have a lot of pain and some days its worse...really worse. So I'm thinking I have to go back to the orthopedist and I'm scared he's going to say surgery again. The first round was blindingly painful and I fear doing it again. So I've put off calling the orthopedist. Call me a coward, I am.
Third: I'm not in love with my job. It's easy and boring. I'd rather be challenged. The people I work with are really nice and I'd hate to leave them but...the boredom is...crushing.
Fourth: Saturn is still in Virgo and transiting my first house. The first house represents energy, vitality and deepest desires. It's also linked to your state of health. Hmmmm, I think we're on to something here...
Saturn is the planet that challenges us, makes up step up and be counted. Some fear this planet because it twists your reality around and throws curve balls. It's been in Virgo for the last ...three years, I think?

Is any of this the reason I can't write? Who knows. I still get ideas. Things pop into my head and I blurt them down onto my hard drive but can't get it to go any further.
Writer's block...I always thought it was a myth. Now I'm not so sure.
How do you deal with writer's block?

Sometimes I just can't write. This is something new. I've never not been able to write. In fact writing has been my safe harbor. Its the place I go to get away from everything else. But now...
It looks like we'll be snowed in this weekend. They are calling it a Snow-i-cane. A blizzard with hurricane like winds. Right now I'm at work watching the big flakes of snow cover my car outside my window. Some of the cars have their windshield wipers pulled out like bug antenna. I think they do this to keep them from freezing to the window. I've never done it. I'm New Jersey born and bread and fear someone will come along and snap it off. Not that this is a bad area but I imagine these things with such clarity that I can see them happening.
Love many, trust few...always paddle your own canoe. Words to live by.

So I pulled out an old manuscript from a few years ago and I've been going through it and scraping off the goo. You know that hazy combination of words that really take your story nowhere? Its a major clean up. As I look at these pages I wonder how I ever thought this stuff was ready for an agent? A good reason to step back and let a story peculate.
I think my writing group thinks I'm crazy. I bring different pieces of different stories every week. Sometime I just don't need/want feedback yet. I know it's not ...right...so I need to fix that before i show it to others. And there's always another story laying around I'm dabbling with that could use a tweak. That's what I bring. My secondary story. Like a secondary plot in a book, it's there but it isn't the main piece of work right now.
So tell me, how do you keep the juices flowing?
This is Rusty. We fostered him for about a week. He's a very loving and smart dog and I know he'll be a great addition to his fur-ever family. And I miss him.

Got no flow....

Most times writing is the easiest thing I do. When I need to escape or have something to say it just flows out of my fingertips without a moments hesitation.
But The Blue Diamond is a struggle. I have to wonder if this is because its like an assignment. Or maybe a cross between an assignment and a challenge.
I'm writing it from an announcement by The Wild Rose Press that asks people to write something for their new Jewels of the Night line. I figured I was such a slacker lately that I needed a challenge.
Things like this usually excite me. Make me step up and just get it done, but somehow I'm just not finding the flow.
Is it the depression that seems to shadow me these days? The disappointment I feel with my day job? Inability to find a publisher for my last work?
Who knows.
My birds are leaving the nest. My best friends are taking off and finding their own lives, their own space in time and it's taking my soul.
Usually I embrace change.
I love new and different things whether it's moving to a new place, changing around a room, or changing jobs. I'm usually a try-new-things, jump-straight-in kind of person.
So why am I floundering now? I knew this was coming, worked hard to make them as prepared as possible and I'm happy to say they have turned out to be very capable, mature, intelligent young women. I'm so proud of them.
So why can't I find my place in the world now? I always knew where it was before, every change made me happy. Why can't I embrace this?
Can I coin the teen phrase, "Whatever"?
I'm making myself push through the Diamond, blurting it all down on the hard drive and hoping for the best. It's an effort to finish and an effort to get my flow back.
Hopefully, that's one thing I can get back.