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March Goals

Goals for the month of March.

Reading:

Um, actually read a book. Hopefully more than one.

Writing:

  • Continue my streak.
  • Finish writing a story that’s just for me, although I’m really liking the tone if it, so I may possibly perhaps tidy it up and post it. At least part of it.
  • Write several more of these self-indulgent stories
  • Continue my #writeastory (although prompts haven’t been released)
  • Fill a couple prompts in my prompt book
  • Write every day in my new writing journal (mostly just rambling and venting about my writing)

Editing/Finishing:

  • Finish 2nd draft revisions for the novella-length The 100 fanfic I’ve been working on
  • Start 3rd draft revisions for above novella
  • Start taking notes for revising “Unbreak My Heart” (another The 100 novella)
  • Finish and edit at least one more shorter story from my WIP folder

Posting:

  • Start posting early chapters of above novella (one a week)
  • Post at least one short story

February Round-up

Here is a round up of all things reading and writing.

Reading:

Apparently I read nothing in February. Not sure how that happened. I know I tried to finish two books before they had to go back to the library, but became violently ill, so never got around to it.

Writing:

35,900 words for February. Streak now at 59 days!

feb2017wordchartAdded sentences every day to my #writeastory project. It still makes no sense, but whatever.

Editing/Finishing:

Finished and edited two The 100 fanfics that had been sitting around since last summer. But the biggest news is I decided to tackle one of my longer fics. I wrote the last few chapters while revising the beginning. It’s really coming along at around 36k words

Posting:

Follow You Down (The 100 (TV))
Every Time We Say Goodbye (The 100 (TV))

January Round-up

Here is a round up of all things reading and writing.

Reading:

Ten books finished in January.

Writing:

24,000 words for January. 31 day streak!

jan2017wordchartNot too bad. I managed to add a few sentences to my #writeastory project every day. The story makes absolutely no sense, but it worked as a daily warm-up before writing something else.

Editing/Finishing:

I decided I needed to really focus on clearing out my WIP folders. With that in mind, I’ve made an effort to edit some of my older stories that have been sitting around forever. I managed to finish/edit/revise two fanfics. I also edited a short story in my Jumper series that is only posted on my LiveJournal for now.

Posting:

Meanwhile, Life Goes On (The 100 (TV))
At the Center of the Night (The 100 (TV))

The 100 (TV) fic: Meanwhile, Life Goes On

meanwhileWith two new graves dug, Bellamy finally realizes he’s going to need help keeping everyone alive, but first he has to get everyone inside the walls.

1108 words | rating: PG


Bellamy finds Clarke sitting against a tree, staring at the freshly turned earth. The sun’s gone down, and it’s getting cold. Behind him, the kids are locking the camp down for the night. Threat of another Grounder attack blankets the camp with a layer of tension that weighs down everyone’s spirits. No one wants to be caught outside the hastily built wall, especially at night. Except one person.

Clarke hugs her legstight to her chest, face buried in her knees. Her shoulders rise and fall with each muffled sob. He has no idea what to say to her, butt if there’s onething he’s learned in the few days on the ground, though, it’s that you have to approach Clarke Griffin head-on.

Bellamy clears his throat. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

Clarke says nothing, but she tenses at the sound of his voice.

“Look, it’s getting dark. You need to come back inside the wall where it’s safe.” His eyes dart to the grave in front of her—one of two new ones dug yesterday.

“What do you care?” she murmurs into her knees.

Why does he care? Clarke has got to be the most frustrating person Bellamy’s ever met. She’s bossy, brash, and overbearing. It doesn’t matter what he does, she’s arguing the opposite side, making him second guess every decision, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. But then there are moments she takes him completely by surprise.

Two days go, he watched her plunge a knife into someone’s neck. She didn’t do it all cold and emotionless. No, not Clarke Griffin. She hummed, showing the compassion of a lover as she killed a boy to save him from a drawn-out, painful death.

Bellamy had threatened to kill Jasper in a moment of arrogant superiority. He really thought he could do it if it settled everyone down and put the kid out of his misery. It wasn’t murder if the kid was going to die anyway, right? But then Atom. He sat there watching his friend die, and he couldn’t do it. But Clarke could. In that moment, he’d seen someone entirely different from the pretentious, know-it-all princess he assumed her to be.

She lets out a sob then sucks it back in. Bellamy runs a hand over his face then squats down in front of her. “Hey,” he says, tapping her knee. “Clarke.” She refuses to look at him. He sighs, letting his hands dangle between his knees. “I know this is hard for you, but you need to come inside. It’s not safe out here.”

“Just leave me alone.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Not gonna happen, princess. I can’t leave you out here alone.”

“Why not?”

“For one, you’re not armed. And two, you’re not exactly in the best state of mind for making rational decisions.”

She snorts. “Because you’re such a great judge on rational decision making.”

He smiles—surprised that Clarke even has a sense of humor—then sinks down next to her. He rests his head against the tree, eyes fluttering closed. The air tingles his skin in an unfamiliar way. It feels good. It feels natural, unlike the recycled air on the Ark. A fight breaks out inside the wall, but he’s too tired to care at the moment.

“Are you really going to sit out here all night?”

Bellamy glances down at her. “If you’re staying out here then I’m staying out here.”

She frowns. “Why?”

He’s tired of dancing around the subject. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious, Clarke. These kids need you.”

She looks away. “Right, the kids need me.” She sniffles again.

“Clarke-”

“God, Bellamy, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Anger boils up. Why does she have to be so ungrateful all of the time? But then she starts crying again. Big, stupid tears spilling down her cheeks, soaking the knees of her pants. Something wrenches in his chest then drops to the pit of his stomach. He thinks it might be his heart.

He squeezes her arm gently. “Because you just lost your best friend, and you shouldn’t be alone. Because you’re the closest thing to a doctor we have. Because-” He sucks up his pride and catches her eyes. “Because I can’t run this place on my own. I need your help.” The other night made him realize that, because there are things he’s not prepared to do—can’t do. But Clarke never hesitates.

As if to highlight his point, the yelling from inside the camp gets louder. There’s a crash and a scream. Bellamy rubs at his tired eyes, letting his head fall back.

“What happened to ‘whatever the hell we want?’” She sniffles then wipes her nose on the sleeve of her jacket.

He groans. He knew that would come back to bite him in the ass. “Things are different now. The Grounders-”

“I’ll go inside,” Clarke interrupts, “if you admit you were wrong.”

He frowns at her, trying to hide his relief. “Wrong about what? No one suspected there were people on the ground.”

Clarke’s eyes narrow, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “That’s not it.”

Bellamy stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Wrong about how useless princesses are?”

“Close, but no.”

He bites back a smile at her eye-roll then reaches a hand down to her. She stares at it for a few seconds before gripping it tightly. He easily lifts her to her feet but doesn’t let go. Her fingers are cold but soft—so different from his own covered in cuts and callouses. His thumb rubs over her knuckles as he steps closer.

“Fine. You were right,” Bellamy says softly. “We need rules or someone’s going to get hurt.” They both look at the mounds of dirt marked by simple wooden crosses. He sighs, letting her hand slip from his. “Maybe if we work together we won’t be digging graves every other day.”

Clarke sniffles then wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands. When her entire body trembles, Bellamy puts a gently hand on her shoulder, turning her towards camp. She goes without protest, his hand sliding down her arm as they walk. He squeezes her hand once when they get to the gate. She gives him a weak smile then walks in ahead of him.

Bellamy takes one last look into the dark forest then glances at Miller standing guard. “Anyone else missing?”

“You’re the last.”

“Good. Lock ‘er up,” he says, twirling his finger in the air as he follows Clarke. At least they’re all safe for one more night.

2017 Goals

Goodreads: 52 books
Writing: write at least 444 words every day
GetYourWordsOut: 250,000
Editing: finish and/or edit one old story every month
Novel: finish second draft of Boys Like Mine
Planningwork on outline for NaNo 2017

Goodreads challenge update #2

Two weeks have gone by. When the month started I needed to read 39 books in 30 days. A daunting task. The first week I made it through 9 books. The second week slowed a little with my kids having snow days on Thursday and Friday. I only finished 4 books and am mostly finished with the fifth. Hopefully next week will be more productive because I’m getting farther behind.

I now need 25 books in 17 days. I need to find novellas to keep up this pace. Read this week:

Crazy Quirks

We all have them–those things we do that most people find odd but make perfect sense to us. One of my strangest quirks is the fact that I like to organize things. For most people, cleaning the garage is a chore. For me, once I get going, I bliss out with all of the organizing. I’ll work for six or seven hours straight without even realizing it.

When I get stressed out, I make spreadsheets to organize information. Or I go through and reorganize all of the folders in my documents folder on my laptop. I’ll alphabetize DVDs or clear out my junk drawer.

The other day, I found a website that keeps track of your writing projects and word counts. I was in heaven. I spent a couple hours just filling in all of the totals from my spreadsheet. Yes, I already have this information organized in detail, but I couldn’t resist going through it again.

I’m a little crazy like that. Anyone want to join me on the crazy train?

Eight Years

I got a notice from WordPress that I have officially been on this site for eight years.

Here’s the text from my very first post here:

When I get bored…I make new blogs.  I’m just searching for a blog home.  A sight that I feel offers me enough options to satisfy my blogging with the least amount of money dished out.  I’m not ready to start paying to blog yet.  I just blog out of boredom…about whatever comes to mind.

Sometimes it is rants about my kids and husband.  Other times it is to show off my newest scrapbook page or sweater I knit.  In November I blog about NaNoWriMo, a novel writing challenge.  You just never know what I might write about on any given day.

Real profound.

In July 2008, I only had four kids. They were 8, 6 1/2, 5 1/2 and 2. We were all living at my dad’s house in Chicago again, and I was heavy into digital scrapbooking, had fallen in love with all things Joss Whedon, and got hooked on Stargate SG-1. It’d be another two years before my youngest is born and we move across the country. 2008 was also my fourth year doing NaNo, and the first time I won.

Why I Hate My Brain #1

Every moment of every day for the last three days:

Brain: *singing* “Say you’ll remember me standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset, babe.”
Me: What are you doing?
Brain: *singing* “Red lips and rosy cheeks. Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams.”
Me: Why are you singing Taylor Swift songs?
Brain: You know why. Mine is an evil laugh. Mwahahahaha!
Me: I hate you.

Snickers Redux

July 10:
0710160035“My cat is so pregnant and not happy right now.”

Two days later…

snickersbabies

There are four blackish/brownish kittens. And one orange one. Guess who has wanted an orange cat since she was 10. CLAIMED!

I’m thinking of naming it Bellamy if it’s a boy. Nothing wrong with naming your cat after your favorite TV character, right? I mean, I named my son after a Stargate character. Same difference.

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