I resolve

My New Year’s resolution last January was pretty simple: survival. Barring any unfortunate occurrences in the next 12-ish hours, I can say that I was pretty successful at that.

This year, my resolutions are more ambitious, and can be summed up as more. This year, I want to do more of the things that uplift me, that challenge me, that make me a better person. More prayer. More writing. More spending time with my husband and my kids. More reading (or at the very least, not any less reading than I’ve done this year!).

In order to accomodate these ambitions, other things are going to have to give, the prime example being mindless Internet surfing. I’m going to try to be more efficient with my housekeeping (and use child labor to help me out a bit, heh). And, oh yeah, I’m going to learn to live on a lot less sleep.

*pause for mocking laughter*

Okay, maybe not the less-sleep part.

And finally, I’m going to enjoy life. My life. Not someone’s life or the life I wish I had, but the life I have now. My life at this moment, which consists of a two-year-old “sleeping” in a makeshift “boat”, a drooling but happy baby, a four-year-old attempting a 100-piece puzzle by himself, and a charmingly messy house (complete with piles of laundry to fold).

Speaking of which, I should probably get out of my pajamas, too.

I live you with links:

JA Konrath has resolutions for writers.

PBW has more links.

See you next year!

challenge: complete

The Stories

  • Xenobiologist
  • Broken (an Elinor story)
  • Exposure
  • Beauty & Beast retelling (unnamed, because I suck at names :P )

The Wordcounts

  • 4410
  • 6244
  • 1637
  • 3510

Written in collaboration with Angst & Whining, hot chocolate, and the album The Better Life by 3 Doors Down.

Not a bad end to the year. Working on Kai’s book begins in earnest now.

o frabjous day! callooh! callay!

We interrupt this blog to bring you a special announcement:

Rabia Gale has finished reading the massive 700-page biography of Alexander Hamilton and can now move on to the next tome.

We now return you to your regularly-scheduled programing.

update

2,177 words on the last story. Another 1K or so to go (I think. I’m horrible at guesstimating how long my stories are going to end up being). I’m going to push to finish it in tomorrow night’s writing session. Woo!

i’m doing it for love. really.

I know that writing fiction does not generate much income. I know that most novelists do not support themselves on their royalties and advances.  Then I read articles like this one and I really know it.

It’s not the lack of money more than it is the lack of readership that bothers me. My husband says that it’s a pride thing instead of an avarice thing for me. Darn right. If I’m spending all this time crafting and polishing my stories, I’d like to have lots of readers, please. Preferably tens of thousands of them.

That said, I got a thousand words on the last story of this month. So, despite my pessimism, I’m still planning on inflicting my work on the unsuspecting populace. Oh, and ALSO, I got my contributor copy of Neverlands and Otherwheres which includes my story Second Sight (written as R. A. Gale). I got a real kick out of watching my husband read my story in its published form. Hee.

merry christmas

making a leap

My daughter just made a big jump in skill level, from doing jigsaw puzzles with less than ten pieces to ones with25 pieces. She needs help the first couple times she does a new-to-her puzzle, but after that she’s good to go on her own. In fact, she’s done this one sports-themed puzzle so many times, I’m heartily bored watching her do it. I pulled out a few more puzzles this morning, hee.

Watching my daughter make a big leap in her puzzle-solving skills reminds me of a couple of “jumps” in my own writing ability. The first one (which was helped along by helpful critiques in the Online Writing Workshop) was when I stopped writing vignettes and started writing real stories. You know, ones that had a protagonist with a problem, pitted against an antagonist, some interesting twists, and a real resolution, instead of the character studies masquerading as stories that I has been writing up until then.

The second jump I made was when my my writing got tighter, my premises more intriguing and my characters more complex, leading to some darker stories. This yielded me Out of Shape, Second Sight, The Most Beautiful Woman in the World and Lily in Winter. Two of these sold, and the other two have had many near-misses of the “good, but not quite there, send more” variety.

That was also over a year ago, and I’m ready for my next big leap. Preferably one which would give me the Super Power of Fast and Effective Revision so that I can salvage Season of Rains and poor broken Quartz.

What leaps in skill have you made in your writing (or any other endeavor)?

And, as a related aside, I think my daughter will be very happy with the 25-piece puzzle that’s waiting under the tree for her!

update

An update to say not much has been happening on the writing front. Instead, I’ve been holding the baby, gearing up for Christmas, beating my husband at Settlers of Cataan (okay, he won once, when I wasn’t paying attention), and oh yeah, holding the baby.

I still need to write story #4, but that will have to wait after Christmas. I’ve got robot dragons on my mind, but I don’t know what (if anything) will happen with them.

How are you all?

winter fun

The Firstborn loves the snow. He loves to dig in it; loves to scrape it and sweep it off cars, ledges, steps; loves to shovel it; loves to run and stomp and kick it up. He is the first to suggest going out, the first at the door all ready to go, and the last to come in (I generally have to bribe him with hot chocolate to get him back inside).

Princess, on the other hand, while insisting she wants to go out too, lasts barely fifteen minutes. Part of it is that she is so bundled up into a roly-poly hatted, booted, mittened, snow-panted thing that she can’t do much. Can’t grasp the shovel. Can’t pick up the snow. Sinks knee deep and needs rescuing. It’s fun for a while, but can we go inside and get hot chocolate now, please?

Baby Boy doesn’t even make it out of the house. Stuff a baby in a snowsuit, take him outside, and all you get is that look of stunned resignation. The look that says, yeah, I’m a baby and therefore subject to your whims. I can’t walk, I can’t run, I can’t squirm (much), but really, what the heck is this?? Snow is no fun for him, so he stays where it’s warm, right inside the door, in swing, car seat or bouncy chair.

I was going to relate this to writing somehow. Perhaps this is analogous to people’s reactions to writing–there are non-writers who never even make it out the door, the dabblers who only like it for a bit and the hard-core ones who don’t ever want to come inside.

But really, the true point of this post is a) Look I took a picture of an icy branch! and b) My kids amuse me.

tree is up