Showing posts with label Napoleon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Napoleon. Show all posts

Thursday, August 09, 2012

Writing and a Puppy: My Muse...


It’s been a while since I’ve blogged here. I started a new blog about our new addition to the family, Napo, on the adventures of raising a puppy. We haven’t had a puppy for thirteen or more years and this is a new experience for me/us because the advice on doing everything with him, training, housebreaking, crate-ing, has changed so much.
I have been writing, just not here. My consultant on my current work-in-progress is VERY busy at the moment in London, so I’ve set about working on another WIP. This project has stewed in my mind for about three years and now seems ready to show itself. As I write and questions come along with the story, I fret a bit, searching for the answers. Then, as I keep my fingers working, I find the words just walk off the keyboard. This is the exciting part about writing a first draft.
I was going to say that I don’t like writing first drafts for the most part. That I really like the editing part that comes in all the proceeding drafts, but I realize when the story comes in a flow, that isn’t really true. I like both for different reasons. First drafts are dizzyingly hard but necessary and exhilarating when they come in waves of fantastic production. I know I’m not alone in thinking of writing as hard. Even when you love something, it doesn’t mean it’s easy. Like Napo. I adore him, love him, can’t get enough of him, but housebreaking him, teaching him what is acceptable and what isn’t, is hard. Discipline is hard, for me to keep with myself in my writing, for me to teach him, but in both cases it must be done for the outcome to be satisfactory. I learned this with raising my two children. I learn this with each novel I write, again and again. It is an ongoing process, the “Neverending Story”, ha ha.
With Napo to keep me company during the long days alone at my desk, I find I am re-energized. The words come; the story makes its way out of my mind/heart and onto my screen/paper. I really do LOVE this part of a first draft. Filling up a blank sheet, and knowing there are more words coming, is literally thrilling and addictive.
This is what writing fulfills in me. Accomplishment. When the words flow, I feel alive and worthy. I won’t celebrate yet, not until this first difficult part of the job is done. Then the champagne will flow and I’ll give little Napo a treat. Because by the end of this first draft, he better be housebroken too!  

Images from:
tessfragoulis.wordpress.com
unm.edu

Monday, April 23, 2012

Tristan, the “Last Minute” son


Twenty-five years ago my husband and I were blessed with a son whom we named Tristan. I was inspired by the younger brother on “All Creatures Great and Small” and my husband by the famous opera. Our son came not upon his due date, but on the day he chose, which just happened to be the anniversary of Napoleon crowning himself emperor. Our son waited till the last minute to arrive as, we found out, is his custom.
When Tristan was born he didn’t cry. He barely made any sound at all. The doctor gently forced him to make some noise so she knew he was all right, but he didn’t feel inclined to aid her. He peered out at us as if a more knowledgeable person waited behind those all-seeing eyes. As if to say to us, “I don’t think I’m ready yet so you’ll just have to wait.” And wait we did and still do. Once he chose to participate in this world, he took it at his own pace and made sure we knew it when he felt rushed. As a man in his own right now and no longer “our son” only, he speaks fluent English and French and is a musician who writes his own songs.
Tristan still, and always has, had a habit of waiting till the “last minute” for anything. To be born, to go to school, to do homework, to make sure he has what he needs for a gig, or for work, or gas in his car, or his wallet or keys.  I think this comes from his unwillingness to join the rest of the world’s time table. He likes to set his own. I don’t know if he’ll ever make it to the “big time”with his music, but he’s one heck of a writer and has a guardian angel who works miracles for him so who knows? Why not? Maybe he’ll even take me seriously one day and use the name I know he’s destined to use for his band. Maybe one day you’ll hear a song that knocks you off your feet and you’ll find out the name of the singer/group is “Last Minute Son.” Maybe it will tweak your memory and you’ll search the web only to find this little bit of - for the time being “unknown”- history on that superstar. You’ll proudly tweet it to all your followers and find yourself, unlike my “Last Minute Son,” ahead of the game.

Tristan can be found at: