Giving yourself permission.

I haven't written in a while. I mean, really haven't written. Not here, not anywhere. Okay, so there have been some tweets, maybe a facebook status update now and again, but that's it. I wouldn't say I've had writer's block specifically. It's not that I couldn't think of what to write, or how to express what was on my mind. I would instead say that I haven't wanted to write at all. Not the slightest desire. So I didn't write.

I understand that I'm going completely against my "Eat Your Vegetables" post, where I pontificated on why you work, even when you don't want to, because it's good for you. I guess I should amend that entire post. I won't, because it would require work and because it seemed like a good idea at the time and I like to be true to the me who felt that way when she wrote it, but I should.

Here's what I'll say instead. Sometimes I get freaking bored with running the same run every day. I used to think that I had to be consistent with my workout in order to build a good habit and to see results. So I was consistent for a long time, and I grew to HATE my workout. Like dreaded it all the time. Which was stupid, really, because that's the best way to set yourself up for failure. For quitting. And one day I planned to blow off my workout entirely, and would have if it weren't for that little voice inside me (whom I've named Guilt and picture in a frilly pink dress with curly hair and a sweet voice that is as unrelenting as my daughter when she wants ice cream) telling me to do something. Anything. So I ran. Just not my usual run. A shorter run at a slower pace. But it was something.

*Light bulbs flash*

I realized that I don't always have to be hardcore. I don't always have to be Miss Badass Workout Girl. Sometimes I can be Miss Likes To Elliptical To Chill Music For Twenty Minutes. And once I gave myself the permission to achieve less when I felt like I needed it, to vary my routine so it wouldn't become stale, a giant weight lifted. Why I didn't figure this would hold true for writing as well, I'll never know. Especially since most of my analogies are workout/writing. Anyhoo.

I've been spending all this time working on my Nano project, filling it out, editing, whatever, and hating every minute of it. Wondering if it was worth it, wondering if I should instead focus on revising another work, start a new project, or quit altogether because I couldn't stand it anymore.

Not many days after the Veggies post, I just stopped writing. I wasn't getting anywhere with it and I needed a break. I needed to revise my strategy. To give myself permission to achieve less. To vary my routine. I went to the library and checked out a crap ton of books. A literal crap ton which, if you look it up in the Urban Dictionary, is equal to 4 shit loads. That's a lot, for those of you who don't swear. And I've been reading. Like crazy. Drag it out for three syllables to get the real effect of how much I've been reading. Or look at my Books 2011 blog post to see the list of books I've read. I think it's been good for me. I've infused myself with stories, renewed my love for them, and- FINALLY- have begun thinking of my own again. With interest. I'm ready to write now.

Listening to: Band Of Horses "Infinite Arms"

xo.kb.

Books 2011

Maybe I'm doing it wrong, but I find Goodreads to be very user-unfriendly. I don't want to rate the books I've read, don't want to post a review. I just want to add them to my "Read" list. So I'm making my own list here, just like I did for 2010. I'll update this post as I add books.

David Levithan
Boy Meets Boy
Are We There Yet?
John Green and David Levithan
Will Grayson, Will Grayson
John Green
Paper Towns
Looking For Alaska
An Abundance of Katherines
Jennifer Echols
Forget You
Ally Condie
Matched
Margaret Atwood
The Handmaid's Tale
Susan Colasanti
Something Like Fate
Jennifer Crusie
Getting Rid of Bradley
Strange Bedpersons
Maybe This Time
Crazy For You
Tell Me Lies
Fast Women
Faking It
Bet Me
The Cinderella Deal
Manhunting
Charlie All Night
Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer
Wild Ride
Don't Look Down
Agnes and the Hitman
Daisy Whitney
Mockingbirds
Katie Crouch
Girls In Trucks
Men And Dogs
Blake Nelson
Dream School
Lauren Oliver
Delirium
Melissa Marr
Fragile Eternity
Darkest Mercy
Tabitha Suzuma
Forbidden
Victoria Dahl
Lead Me On
Crazy For Love
One Week As Lovers
A Little Bit Wild
Start Me Up
Talk Me Down
Barry Lyga
The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl
Goth Girl Rising
Hero-Type
Boy Toy
Nancy Werlin
Impossible
Extraordinary
April Lindner
Jane
Carrie Ryan
The Forest of Hands and Teeth
The Dead-Tossed Waves
The Dark and Hollow Places
Jay Asher
Thirteen Reasons Why
Julie Kagawa
The Iron King
The Iron Daughter
The Iron Queen
Lauren DeStefano
Wither (ARC)
Bill Cameron
Day One
County Line
Nick Hornby
High Fidelity
Emma Donoghue
Room
Christine Johnson
Clair de Lune
Stephanie Perkins
Anna and the French Kiss
Gayle Forman
Where She Went
Lisa & Laura Roecker
The Liar Society
Sara Zarr
Sweethearts
Sarah Ockler
Fixing Delilah
Holly Black
Valiant
Ironside
Tithe
Cassandra Clare
City of Bones
City of Ashes
City of Glass
City of Fallen Angels
Clockwork Angel
Jennifer Egan
A Visit From the Goon Squad
Hannah Moskowitz
Invincible Summer
Maureen Johnson
13 Little Blue Envelopes
Devilish
The Bermudez Triangle
Veronica Roth
Divergent
Jonathan Tropper
This Is Where I Leave You
Rob Bell
Love Wins
Lauren Kate
Fallen
Libba Bray
Beauty Queens
Tawna Fenske
Making Waves
Ilsa J. Bick
Ashes
Joe Schreiber
Au Revoir, Crazy European Chick
Elana Johnson
Possession
Sophie Littlefield
Banished
Myra McEntire
Hourglass

Books 2010

My fellow Virgo Patrick Alan had a blog post today that spoke to reading, of getting sucked up into a story and devouring it,and it got me thinking. You all know I write. Mostly because it's all I seem to talk about. And maybe that's why no one calls anymore. But anyway. I think more than I am a writer, I am a reader. Hard core. Ask my family. Give me a book and forget about talking to me until it's finished. Lucky for my kids, I can read a book in a couple hours so dinner may be slightly late, but it isn't take-out. I love stories so much, love the transport I feel when I forget there's a "me" and my perspective becomes the main character's, love the emotional roller coaster I ride when I live their adventure.

I thought I'd make a list of the books I've read this year. Because I love making lists. And because I'd like to see how many there are. Here goes:

Blake Nelson:
Girl*
The New Rules Of High School
Rock Star Superstar
Prom Anonymous
Destroy All Cars
Paranoid Park
Laurie Halse Anderson:
Speak
Catalyst
Twisted
Wintergirls
Chains
Prom
Sarah Dessen:
Someone Like You
Keeping The Moon
Dreamland
This Lullaby
The Truth About Forever
Lock and Key
Just Listen
Along For The Ride
Suzanne Collins:
The Hunger Games
Catching Fire
Mockingjay
Libba Bray:
A Great and Terrible Beauty
Rebel Angels
The Sweet Far Thing
Going Bovine
Melissa Marr:
Wicked Lovely
Ink Exchange
Radiant Shadows
Lauren Oliver:
Before I Fall
Gayle Forman:
If I Stay
Hannah Moskowitz:
Break
Shaun David Hutchinson:
The Deathday Letter
Sean Ferrell:
Numb
Ann Brashares:
My Name Is Memory
Jonathan Franzen:
Freedom
Kiersten White:
Paranormalcy
Charlotte Bronte:
Jane Eyre*
Frank Portman:
King Dork
Andromeda Klein
Nick Hornby:
About A Boy
Slam
How To Be Good
A Long Way Down
Juliet, Naked
Nicholas Sparks
The Last Song
The Choice
At First Sight
Kody Keplinger:
The Duff
Siobhan Vivian:
A Little Friendly Advice
Same Difference
Audry Niffenegger:
Her Fearful Symmetry
Terra Elan McAvoy:
Pure
Jennifer Weiner:
Good In Bed
Alice Sebold:
The Lovely Bones
Sarah Ockler:
Twenty Boy Summer
Stephanie Kuehnert:
Ballads Of Suburbia
Andy Greenwald:
Nothing Feels Good: Punk Rock, Teenagers, and Emo
Haven Kimmel:
The Solace of Leaving Early
Iodine
The Used World
Jane Green:
Dune Road
Straight Talk
Second Chance
Mr. Maybe
Jemima J
The Other Woman
Babyville
Helen Fielding:
Cause Celeb
Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination
Bill Cameron
Chasing Smoke
Jennifer Crusie
Welcome To Temptation
David Levithan
The Realm of Possibility
Jandy Nelson
The Sky Is Everywhere
Margaret Atwood
The Year of the Flood
Oryx and Crake




This is preliminary. I'm adding books as I remember them.

Really, I'm very inconsistent here.

You should see my myspace. Full and ridiculous. Or maybe you shouldn't see my myspace. Highly personal. Anyway.

I took a brief break from writing. About two weeks. I mean, I've been blogging and writing a bit, taking notes or whatever, but not a whole lot. And I've been reading like it's water and I'm on a hike. In the last two, maybe three weeks, I've read every Blake Nelson (re-read GIRL, one of my fav books of all time), all but one Laurie Halse Anderson, the new Jane Green as well as her first, JANE EYRE (loved it much more than when I read it in HS), BEFORE I FALL by Lauren Oliver, INTO THE WILD (oh my God.) and... I think that's it. A ton of this is YA, which I love and was thinking, maybe I'll write a YA novel. But no, I don't think it's in me.

Besides the crazy reading, I've been revising and sending out queries for WHERE CURRENTS PULL. It makes me nervous that I haven't had any requests yet. With JUST A LITTLE RAIN my first letter out got me a request. While it was the only request, and though I stopped querying when I really got into writing WCP, it gave me a hopeful feeling. I've sent out a few letters with WCP and all form rejections. I really like the writing in that book too. I feel like Nat has a very distinct voice and is relatable, so I wonder if my query sucks? Or the query's fine, but my writing sucks and I have no objectivity? Sometimes I wish an agent would send back a rejection with, "Honestly, no one's going to want this. Your book sounds horrible." Or "The book sounded like it could be okay, but your query is so God-awful there was no way I'd request anything." At least then you'd know. You could get on with things and maybe get a job at the Gap or something. Certainly, I'd be dressed better and perhaps have some more money...

Small rant aside, the writing has recommenced on ABOVE THE WAVES. I realized that I'm at the 50 page mark. Here I've been, feeling stuck and wondering what's wrong with me, and it occurred to me that, with each book, I get to the 50 page point and get stuck. Then each time I've skipped ahead with much success, then went back to fill in, before writing the last chapter. I've forgotten I do this when writing both #2 and #3. Even though I've left myself notes about this. Ah well. So I'm skipping ahead today. And very excited about it because it's right in the meat of it all. Nothing more thrilling than skipping the build-up and getting directly to the juicy.

Listening to: Jeremy Enigk and getting back into my writing groove.

On being a woman.

I've been reading a lot of YA lately. I mean, a lot. And mostly Blake Nelson, of whom I have a HUGE author crush on, really, ever since I read GIRL way back when. If you haven't read that book and you are literate, you should be ashamed of yourself. I identify with Andrea Marr in that way I identify with Jane Eyre. Anyway, in the last two weeks I've read PROM ANONYMOUS, THE NEW RULES OF HIGH SCHOOL, ROCKSTAR SUPERSTAR, DESTROY ALL CARS- all by Blake Nelson (PARANOID PARK is next in queue) and WINTERGIRLS by Laurie Halse Anderson. Also JANE EYRE and DUNE ROAD (Jane Green)- those are not really YA, just giving a complete list here. And I picked up KARMA FOR BEGINNERS by Jessica Blank. I'm trying to get an idea for the genre to see if it's something I think I could write. I know I stepped into that territory for a bit- the first 3 original chapters of JALR all take place in high school- and, actually, it was pretty fun.

Here's what I love about YA: These teenagers have problems. They have complexion issues. They have trouble fitting in. Their clothes are all wrong. They're misunderstood. They can't find a boyfriend/girlfriend. If they do, they worry about having sex. They drink or do drugs and it messes with them. Or not. Anyway, it's a hell of a lot like being an adult, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, if we're honest, we worry about this shit just the same. Or maybe that's just me, and I'm somehow "special." But the lovely thing about it all is, despite all the problems, despite the trauma/drama, there's so much hope. Even in WINTERGIRLS, where the protagonist nearly kills herself with an eating disorder, there's *FUTURE* looming ahead, filled with possibility. Like graduation. Or college. Or that next big love.

Here's what I hate about being a woman: Upon entering the realm of adulthood, the idea of possibility is cruelly snatched away, something like the rug being pulled out from under you. When you're a woman, becoming an adult is the end of you. If you choose to strictly have a career, you are not a caring person or something must be intrinsically wrong with you to not have had a family. If you have a family and work, you are not spending a) enough quality time with your kids; and b) enough quality time at work; and are therefore a failure at both. If you stay home with your children and devote your life to them, you are a soccer mom who has lost her sense of self. If you stay at home with your children but try to have outside interests, you are selfish and a horrible mother. How do you win at this? How is it possible to recognize these facts (because that's what they are) and have any desire to do anything at all? When whatever you do is wrong.

I know this. I feel it. I worked ridiculous hard before I had kids. I was criticized for being too involved in my job. I got pregnant, had a baby and stayed home for several years. I did the homegrown thing in my house, all for the sake of my kids. I stopped going out with my friends because I found I had nothing besides all my in-home projects to talk about. I went back to work and felt the pull of my job and my family. I could never give enough to either. I quit again to be home and to write, but again feel the strain. When I write, I'm taking my time away from everyone else. When I don't write, I'm miserable. Where's the middle ground?

There isn't any. Because there's no win. There's guilt and condescending attitudes. There's anger and resentment. There's sadness and invisibility.

I write a lot about choice. About taking back control of our lives. Truth be told, there are a lot of times I don't believe a word of it. Still, like those YA books I so adore, I like to believe in the possibility. I like to think that hope isn't just something we feel in vain. That maybe it just sucks because I'm in the middle of it, and there's some kind of a graduation looming ahead to look forward to.

Listening to: Headlights "Wildlife"

xo. kb.