Creative Minds & Coffee Grounds

La Di Da Di Da

2006-04-02T21:46:00.000-04:00

I'm uninspired. Completely. I know what I need to write, and how I need to write it, and where I need to go with it. I just don't want to. *Cue temper tantrum here* Except it's not temper, even. It's just...nothing. No drive. No emotion. No motivation. Just emptiness.

Maybe I'm hungry.

Anyway, sorry about the lack of updates. There really isn't much to say. Doc and I are discussing the moving to Tennessee idea and trying to work out a way to do it. Guitar Guy is probably going to be spending a few months in Baltimore, Maryland, following work. There is no work in Michigan. Don't move here. After Baltimore he wants to go to Scotland, so I may have to get myself a passport and go visit. I'll swing by Germany while I'm there and say hi to Big Brother and the wife and kids. Could be fun. I'm incredibly jealous that he's got the freedom to just pick up and go. But I chose to marry Doc, so I can't complain.

Much.

I'm on Yahoo! with the lovely Diva Jo right now and she's threatening to crack a whip in my direction if I don't write something already, so I better go. Serves me right for asking to be held accountable.

More updates forthcoming. Promise.

"A Muse Me" by S.L. Carpenter ~ Review

2006-03-25T10:10:00.000-05:00

Here's my latest review for Romance Divas.

A Muse Me
Short Story Erotic E-book
By S.L. Carpenter
Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 2006
Reviewed by :: Jo Robinson

The story opens with some atrocious writing...deliberately. Eugene S. Finkter is a romance and erotica writer with thirty books under the pseudonym Dorris Daye. He also has a bad case of writer's block. Nothing he writes works well for him, and he's getting frustrated. A trip to Aruba, with the possibility of a hot island fling, is just the thing to get his, ah, muse working again.

A Muse Me is a fun, light-hearted and very erotic tale of writer’s block, vivid imaginations and fantasies come to life. There isn't much in the way of character development or complicated plot, but the story is well-written and enjoyable. At 48 pages, it's perfect for a hot, quick read.

4 Kisses

I Wrote A Poem!

2006-03-23T20:08:00.000-05:00

Be gentle. It's my first poem, and I'm ridiculously proud of it. Let me know what you think. And, hey, tell me what it means, will ya?

Creative minds and coffee grounds
Versions of discordant sounds
Just noise until a tune emerges
Muses dictate lyric surges

Confusion and the simple pleasures
Tears among the spirit's treasures
Darkened colors with the pale
Put to use to tell the tale

Painting pictures for the mind
Elusive dreams produced in kind
Dangerous to pursue in truth
Still holds appeal to reckless youth

Wise ones put such dreams away
Desire, unspoken, held at bay
Until the siren's call is sounded
Dreaming free while staying grounded

Creative minds and coffee grounds
Forbidden thoughts hide in the sounds
Blurred enough to skew their meaning
Wiser, yet with reckless leaning

Everyday Life

2006-03-23T08:09:00.000-05:00

I started plotting out James' Story today, while I was at work. It didn't go so well, but then it never does when I try to plot. That's why I'm a panster. I'm stuck, at the sixth scene. It's a short story, and I'm not sure how many scenes there should be. I guess I'll just start writing the story itself and hope something breaks loose.

I've put aside A Sorta Fairytale for the moment. It's still simmering away, and I'm still excited about it, but James' Story is much shorter and less complex, so I'll go with that one for now. Until I get stuck, or bored, then I'll switch back to ASF. Isn't writing fun?

I've got a busy weekend ahead of me. (Weekend being anytime between now and work on Monday.) I've got to finish reading A Muse Me, a short story I'm reviewing for Romance Divas. Then, of course, I have to actually write the review. After I've sent it off I'll see if anything else available interests me. Gotta keep reading. Flex that mind muscle! I want to get the majority of James' Story done this weekend, and at least a few pages written on ASF. And I have a half-finished poem I want to play around with. Add in catching up on e-mail, Romance Divas, and playing with Yahoo! Messenger and you'll start to understand why I keep telling Doc we need two computers.

There's work to be done in the real world, as well, though it isn't nearly as interesting. The entire apartment could use a good cleaning, but I'll be content if I get around to cleaning the bathroom and kitchen. I have a mountain of laundry waiting for me to whisk it off to the laundromat (and sit there for three hours until it's done) and I have 4 closets and an attic to clean out in preparation for the Big Move. The date of that move has yet to be determined, but I figure starting to sort through our stuff and paring down to the essentials will make me feel like it's actually coming. One day. Eventually.

I get to paint this weekend. I haven't done that in a long time. Guitar Guy is actually moving. In a few weeks, I think, unless he can swing it sooner. He's getting his house ready to sell, so Doc and I agreed to help paint the walls. It'll be interesting. It makes me sad that he's leaving, without us no less, but I understand. And, Lord willing, we'll be down not far behind him.

Anyway, I've just walked in from work, and my bed is calling me.

A Sorta Fairytale

2006-03-20T20:43:00.000-05:00

Yes, I cribbed the title from Tori Amos. It's the working title for my newest WIP endeavor. Guitar Guy, who introduced me to Tori Amos a few months ago, gave me crap about it when he saw it. But I don't mind. I let it roll off my back, so to speak. It's perfect for how the story is turning out. Besides, it was 4:30 in the morning when I titled it, so I'm not to be held responsible for my actions.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

It started out because Guitar Guy is the perfect hero. He's the kind of man who keeps his own counsel but handles what needs to be handles, and does it without complaining. Think of a gunslinger in the West who would be just as likely to save the damsel in distress from a runaway horse, risking his own life in the process, as he would be to shoot down his adversary without a second thought. That's kind of how Guitar Guy is, except in Small Town, USA instead of the Old West.

With a little creative license and some pretty personal questions, I had the makings of a good story. My heroine posed a bit of a problem, but by and by Gretchen showed me her true colors. She's artistic and lonely, a former priveleged girl trying to make her own way in the big bad world. I knew she was beautiful and delicate, like a fairie, but with a solid backbone and courage to step outside her expected path. I really like her. If she were real, I think the two of us could be friends.

Next came Sebastian, the cat who moved in with Gretchen shortly after she found herself in her new home. Gretchen doesn't own Sebastian. Sebastian doesn't own Gretchen. They're more like roommates, sharing the same space. Gretchen's falling for him, though. He's becoming her best friend, the one she tells all her secrets to. She'd feel stupid for talking to a cat all the time, except she gets the feeling that Sebastian has more to him than meets the eye. He's no ordinary cat, and she'll tell anyone the same.

So, we have Dylan, the warrior poet, Gretchen, the lost and alluring wordsmith (did I mention she's a writer?) and Sebastian, the watchful and protective cat. What's missing? Ah, yes. A bad guy.

I haven't named him yet, but he's an evil sorcerer. Or he was in a past life. Now he's waiting for a curse to come to fruition, and he's determined that nothing will keep him from attaining what he wants. Which, of course, is Gretchen.

Intrigued yet?

Many thanks goes to James, aka GM Man, for helping me think up and refine the major plot points.

Tennessee Pictures

2006-03-19T23:04:00.000-05:00

Hmm...Can't seem to get Blogger to accept my pictures. I'll try again later, so ya'll can see my beautiful shots of the mountains. Anyone have any ideas how to make it work?

Good Times and Bad News

2006-03-19T15:57:00.000-05:00

I've just done the most irresponsible thing ever. At least, the most irresponsible to me. I'm the clear-headed, responsible one. The one who pays the bills. The one who weighs consequences. The boring one. I allow myself to be spontaneous and irresponsible only in my writing. I guess my muse was feeling froggy and decided to "inspire" me to be rash and crazy.

Doc, Guitar Guy and I spent three days in Tennessee. We didn't tell anyone we were going, we called in to work, and we had a blast. I've found my new favorite spot on earth. This may not seem so crazy to some, but it tops a very short loony list for me. If you figure in the fact that both Doc and I are pretty close to broke, and hanging onto our jobs with sheer force of will (and grace of God), it becomes even more off-the-wall.

I'd never been to Tennessee, or seen the Smoky Mountains, and Guitar Guy has some family down there, so off we went, on my first ever road trip without family. The ride down was fun, for the most part. Guitar Guy drove most of the way, I became "navigator" and pseudo-entertainment, and Doc slept in the back most of the way down. Guitar Guy is a) a music buff and b) writing music of his own, so we were kept occupied on the trip. We made it in around twelve hours, which isn't bad considering we weren’t exactly hurrying.

When we pulled into his family's hometown, I was sleeping, so I missed a lot of the initial tour. When I woke up, we were parked in a driveway carved into the side of a mountain. Guitar Guy's grandma lives in a house that overlooks this peaceful valley, full of rolling green land and adorable houses. Then you look up the other side and there's this gorgeous, heart-stopping view of another mountain, green and purple and blue, with the peaks swathed in ever-present mist. (Unfortunately, I didn’t get a shot of that view. I had completely forgotten about my camera until after we'd packed up the car again and left.) I was quite literally speechless for several minutes. That's a rare occurrence.

I can't explain the beauty of that spot. It was insane. It almost didn't seem like it should be real. Just the sheer majesty of those mountains and the quiet beauty of the valleys made me feel like there was no other place on earth that could ever be more perfect. Granted, I've yet to see much of the world, but I felt at home in that little town in Tennessee, up on that mountain. I felt like I belonged there, in a way I can barely put into words.

Okay, enough gushing. We did some tourist-y things while we were there, and took a "nature walk" in the Great Smoky Mountains National Forest. That was cool, but they severely misnamed it. We didn't go on a leisurely nature walk. We climbed a damn mountain. I hurt for days after, but it was worth it. We did get some great pictures from a bluff there.

Now, on to the bad news. When we returned home I had about eight or ten messages from my sister waiting on my answering machine. Seems my mom had a heart attack the day before we came home. I can't even tell you the panic and horror that engulfed me when I heard that. I called my mom, and she assured me she was okay. It was nothing, it wasn’t a heart attack, my sister had overreacted. I went down to the hospital to bring her home, and we spent a couple days together. She seemed to be doing well, except she had spells where she had a hard time breathing, and when she woke up in the morning her face would be swollen and her hands would be freezing. She played it down, so I tried not to think about it or worry.

Yesterday my sister tells me that she heard our mom on the phone with her doctor. Turns out she did have a heart attack, a mild one, and the chemo treatments for her breast cancer are responsible. The program they have her on is too intense for her (she’s 61 and had heart problems before the cancer started) and it's weakened her heart muscle. She's retaining fluid around her heart, which makes it hard for her to breathe and is responsible for the swelling and cold extremities. She's in the beginning stages of renal heart failure (I'm not sure how to spell that, or if that’s even the right term) and she could have a massive heart attack at any time. Not exactly great news. It makes me angry that my mom would keep that from us, even though I know she was doing it to spare us worry. But what pisses me off the most is that she has to finish her chemo treatments, scheduled through May, even though her cancer has gone into remission. If she stops treatment before her doctor signs off on her the state will pull her benefits. She needs those benefits because she can't work due to her illness. Stupid system.

If anyone out there is inclined to pray for her, I'd appreciate it. She needs all the help she can get.

First Ever Post

2006-03-11T05:00:00.000-05:00

***Many thanks and lots of love to ShandaLear for the gorgeous template.***
***Many thanks and unlimited cookies to Alan Morgan for having the patience to deal with me and for getting the template to work properly.***

It's difficult to talk on the phone and write a clever, creative blog post at the same time, so I'm not going to attempt the cleverness right now. I'm talking to a pregnant friend who is obsessed with her unborn child. While that's not a bad thing in itself, it becomes tiring when she cannot talk about anything else, and when you do manage to change the topic she somehow manages to steer it back to herself and her baby. *shakes head* I love her dearly, but I don't have kids and only have so much knowledge. I'm at a distinct disadvantage in this conversation.

I'm on the lookout for a word counter. You know, those nifty little bars that go in the sidebar, with the name of the WIP and the total/so far word counts? The little meter goes up when you've got more words...Yeah, those. Hey, I'm up for anything that might be motivational. If anyone knows where to find one, point me in the right direction, would ya?

On the writing front, I've gotten roughly 2500 words in just under two weeks. Major accomplishment for me. I envy you more prolific types. I wish I could sit down and bang out ten, twelve, fourteen pages at a time. That happens very rarely, though, so I'll take what I can get. I joined a weekly goal challenge on Romance Diva's forum. My goal is ten pages a week. I've got just over two for this week, so I've got to get crackin'. Final tally for this week is due tomorrow. Not that I'll be mocked and ridiculed for falling short. I'm just a little afraid of the whip-happy. *grin*

My hero kind of terrifies me. Isn't that funny? He's based (loosely) on Doc's best friend, but he's evolved into so much more than that. He's dark and broody and quietly passionate. He's a musician who makes furniture. Can you beat that? And he loves my heroine to distraction. He's funny, though. Very sarcastic and droll. Oh, he makes me shiver. And he's fictional! *sigh* Too bad. If he were real he'd be the only man who would make me consider leaving Doc.

Well, him and Johnny Depp.