I was saving this song for good news (i.e. agent, editor, book deal) because Hysteric is one of my favorites.  It awakens my mind.  BUT, alas, I have thought long (the past month) about taking a break from wordpress.  After three and a half years of blogging about my writing experience, I feel like I need a change.

I understand now why blogs that endure are the ones that offer the reader something other than themselves, their pov, their life.  But the blogs that endure are not really my favorite ones to read.  I like reading YOUrs, knowing what you’re reading, watching, listening to, thinking about, etc.

So, hopefully, I’ll still be seeing ya.

I’m not burned out, per se, but I’m finding that what little time I have is spent on blogging/commenting, social media, and things that take away from my writing…and my family.  If I’m going to make this published writer thing happen, then something has to give.  Right now, that’s this blog.

I’ll miss you, so please email me sometimes.  Remind me that there’s a world outside of my head.

For the time being, I will be posting over at We Heart YA–it’s the next stage for me while I’m querying and writing more novels.  I could not do this query thing without my critique partners.  They encourage me to keep going, they tell me when the feedback I get is useful or not.  I really didn’t think I would need this–after all, I’m a smart cookie and I persevere–but it’s hard to filter out the emotion and “see straight” the closer you get to your dream.

And thank you, so much, for reading these little notes and for commenting and for being an awesome community of creative people that just gets it.  You get it.  You know who you are.  Thank you.

Because I moved from one country to another, I let these little ships slip from my radar.  I have read the first two fiction titles in the series:  WEIGHT by Jeanette Winterson (retelling of Atlas) and THE PENELOPEID (retelling of Aeneid from Penelope’s pov) by Margaret Atwood.

I LOVE these stories with every wisp in my soul.

Sometimes things are so obviously in front of me.

I’ve been questioning my writing lately.  Do I want to attempt world-building when others are so much better?  How do I suspend disbelief when ‘fake it till you make it’ doesn’t apply?  Why am I so drawn to legends, myths, folklore, kung-fu?  ;)

Here’s the thing:  ”There is never a single, orthodox version of a myth.  As our circumstances change, we need to tell our stories differently…”

“…mythology will not succeed if it concentrates on the supernatural; it will only remain vital if it is primarly concerned with humanity.”

Okay.  I’m convinced.  It may seem like a lofty goal–the retelling of myths–but I like having somewhere to aim.  Just going to keep at it!  What about you?  What are you reading that is inspiring?  What are you working on that is getting under your skin?

p.s.  This girl has GOT it.  Wow.

…come dance with me in your new shoes.  It’s not that bad.

What IS bad is that I’ve been hiding for two weeks.  Okay, I’ve been trying to be creative, but STRESS is the anti-write.  And when I’m not writing, I’m not usually blogging either. 

I’ve tried not to get worked up about querying, and waiting to find out if a publishing professional will “get” my writing, and if they think they can sell it.  At present, I have three full requests, and one partial out on my manuscript.  GO JACK!  The more I query, the easier it gets.  And I don’t hate it.  I am seriously looking forward to the next stage, even though it means more WAITING.  I can wait.

This is the path I have chosen with traditional publishing.  While I think it is a good idea for established writers-and other writers who have good editors-to publish e-books, (Talli Roland used a traditional publisher for her first two books, and is now releasing her third through Amazon–which make up the bulk of her sales anyway), I have always wanted to see my book on a shelf in Barnes & Noble.  First.  I might come around to ebooks one day.

While I’ve been waiting, I’ve been reading.  And I’ve been living the autumn life.  Wow is it GORGEOUS out there!  Yellow, orange, fire-red.  Warm days, cool nights.  It’s so much that I can’t even break out the poetic musings.

Maybe later.  Because I’ve finally managed to get creative again.  I’m loving the writing of my new project.  It’s a treat (as it should be, right?)

And you?  Is your writing a trick or a treat?  I’ll be around your blogs soon.  Peace.

10-5-11

Today, I am a number.

32.

I am

5.6 X 235 = 32.

I remember one of my ex-numbers

27

 and we were good together…

until it left me for someone else.

It’s sorta been downhill from there.

But if I add in

+that I have 3 healthy and hilarious kiddunks

+1 gorgeous partner in crime, with a killer dimple

+1 house with a view and 1/2 acre of woods

+1 car with 4-wheel drive

+and now 4 new tires

-that cost $470 bucks (gah!)

+and a bundle of good friends

+and 2 parents

+2 brothers

+2 nephews, 1 neice

it all adds up

to a pretty decent existence

on this molten and crusty earth.

Today I am a number:

32.

Still, I’d much rather be the words,

Sarah was here,

And leave the cold, distant binary language to the gods. 

]]> http://foldingfields.wordpress.com/2011/10/05/it-all-adds-up/feed/ 8 sarahwedgbrow http://foldingfields.wordpress.com/2011/09/29/believe-the-hype/ http://foldingfields.wordpress.com/2011/09/29/believe-the-hype/#comments Thu, 29 Sep 2011 13:01:20 +0000 sarahwedgbrow http://foldingfields.wordpress.com/?p=1361 Continue reading →]]>

DAUGHTER OF SMOKE AND BONE by Laini Taylor was released this week, and if you’re looking for something fantastical and weird in all the right ways, then get thee to an Indie (bookstore, that is).  I almost groaned when I discovered the Angel and the Demon had instant chemistry (which is so trendy in YA) but Laini Taylor twists this story into something much more satisfying–self-discovery.  Nicely played.  It has stirred my creativity (and it needed stirring).  I Haven’t stopped thinking about the vivid characters and scenery, which really are my favourite bits of a story.

Also, THE NEAR WITCH by Victoria Schwab was absolutely delightful to read.  I do believe my favourite YA guy (besides Gilbert Blythe) is Cole–I don’t even know his real name!  That’s a feat, my friends.  There’s stuff about this story that reminds me of THE GRAVEYARD BOOK by Neil Gaiman, CHIME by Franny Billingsley (have yet to read a book that tops this one,) and yet it’s strongly on its own.

And just want to gloat that I’m going to see MASON JENNINGS tonight, an early birthday present from my dirty-hippy-feet friends.  You can get a FREE song by him on Amazon if you fancy…

My dad and I are a lot alike, with a preference to be passive, peaceful.  But there’s also something that my dad and I share–we repeat ourselves, our stories, our jokes.  So, I’m a little surprised with myself that I haven’t wanted to repeat a post until now.  But it’s my dad’s birthday and this song reminds me of him.  Maybe it’s just the beard.

This song by Steve Earle is my childhood.  My dad was hugely into HAM radio, has “call” letters and even has a station in his basement, which is covered in boxes and cobwebs now, regretfully neglected.

As a child and adolescent, I could often be found barricaded inside my bedroom writing passionate, painful, elemental (i.e. embarassing) love stories.  But to me they weren’t romantic stories, but life and death stories.

As I created worlds in my room, I would hear my dad broadcasting from the deep, dark man-cave.  The sound of his voice would echo up through the heating vents.  And there was a certain spot on the stairs, that if I sat there, I could hear every activity in every room of the house.  Even big daddy in the basement.

I would sit there for half an hour or so listening to my father’s voice.  I couldn’t quite hear his words all the time, but the deep tones were comforting.  He has always made me feel completely safe.  Such a gift.

So, I would go find my dad and sit in his lap while he operated his radio station.  We’d listen to news from South America and how horrible the world is.  He’d speak to some truckers–my call name was “Princess.” I cringe now, but at the time the truckers thought I was sweet.

Then at bedtime, I’d lean into the screen window, leaving dusty patterns on my cheeks, and count the trucker-trailers on the overpass, only a stone’s-throw from my house.  Literally a stone’s throw, but I’m not admitting to you how I know that.  The thing I wanted to be the most when I grew up, was a truck driver.  I wanted to travel and to see the world.  And talk on the radio all night.

I’m not a truck driver–and, man,they’d eat me alive–but blogging is so much like amateur radio…anyone out there with their ears on, one, two three?

Big Daddy on the air, are you listening to me, on the satellite radio? 

Does anybody care, are you listening to me, on the satellite radio?

Happy Birthday, Dad!!!  (yes, this is your card.)

I know this upsets a lot of people, getting used to something new, etc.  I guess I’m just a different breed of different because I could give a rat’s arse about it.  Fine.  Change it.  I’ll adapt.  My life goes on.  I think the day that it DOES matter to me is the day that I know I’ve been completely sucked into the lie that is the internet.

Now, I’m not saying I don’t love it too.  I love blogs, email, twitter, YOU.  I love your books, writing, perspective, pictures, designs, words, warm buzzy feeling in my fingers as I type comments to you.  And I’d miss you if you were gone.  But I’d still make up worlds in my mind, find scraps to scribble on.  Send you mindvibes instead of electrovibes.

I’d sing you songs like this and be deluded enough to think you could hear me.

Forgive me.  I am lost in Queryland.

During my afternoon quests for the perfect shiny agent…my girls have been watching Barbie Fairytopia Mermaidia (still with me?).  I get why this movie is so popular with them…

It constantly repeats.

So while I’m reading submission guidelines and agent wishlists (and hoping an agent loves JACK as much as I do), somewhere in the background I hear “This is the immunity berry!”  The evil witch complains that it’s not the right berry.  The original character chooses another one and says again in a ridiculously addicting British accent, “The immunity berry!”  nope.  “The immunity berry!”  Now both girls are repeating the line over and over.

I look over and say, “The immunity query!”  They giggle and say “No, mummy.  Berry.“

They’re right.  There’s no immunity query.  Dangit.

And while I am absolutely good with being the Tortoise in this race (even if it sometimes seems like I’ve got some Hare in me after all), sometimes I’d like to be the Fireball.  The Crazy Fireball that burns past the Tortoise and the Hare.  Don’t leave the Fireball out of the fable, you know?

What are you working on?  Would a Fireball help or hinder?

You see, Friday is my chill-out day.  I don’t HAVE to do anything because I spend the rest of the week taking care of chores, teaching my girls to read, playing, dancing, painting, mediating, cooking, reading (DAUGHTER OF SMOKE AND BONE right now, which is so inspiring and balancing for my own writing…this has been a busy and rollercoaster week for my writing, querying, revising, and world-building).

I promise I’ll do the same for you when you need it.  You scratch my back…

In fact, you HAVE to watch this.  I tweeted about this earlier in the week, but can’t get it out of my head.  Humans are all things, but mostly AMAZING.