Remodeling

A year ago this month, I started this blog in earnest, reviewing kids literature and commentating on life as a mother and unofficial librarian. If you're interested in that stuff, feel free to roll through the archives.
A couple of weeks ago, a gift was given to me in a dream. The gift of a plot. I wrote narrative after narrative in high school and college, but due to a drop in self-esteem brought on by idiocy and alcoholism I stopped writing narrative, and focused inward instead. I have focused inward by writing in half-completed journals, heated emails, and a few blogs.
This new plot pushed me to furiously write out THREE chapters of a young adult novel in ONE DAY. This is a tremendous feat, and yeah, I felt like my hands were compelled to type this story. I've also found that I'm a better writer when I can TYPE it. That's how I started, on a little 1960's model Brother typewriter that was my mother's. It portable, teal blue, and ADORABLE. I was ten when I started pounding out stories, plays, and awful haiku.
...I typed on an electric typewriter in high school, and though it was mainly used for school work I found it terribly satisfying to clang my fingers...combining two things I was actually REALLY good at without trying: typing (100 wpm) and writing. I pretended to want to be an actress, because I was heavily involved in the theatre, but what brought me the greatest joy was my involvement in literary pursuits. It was easy, it was FUN.
So, here I've been given this plot. I've stalled a bit, only getting a few tidbits of information daily about each of the characters. Starting to get frustrated, I confided in my husband. He said, "Well, you haven't written every day for ten years. I've always heard that writing takes daily practice..."

Well, duh. I knew that. I immediately knew that this humble little web log that created a tiny ripple in the women's blogging world must be turned inward. Used as practice. I probably won't type the story that's haunting me on here, but I will type about a little of nothing, a lot of everything, just to get my fingers used to clanging again. Sure, I clang all day at work, data entry, typing letters etc...but this is my warm up, this is my stretch. If I'm to do these characters justice they need me at my best.

I'll change the masthead, too. I've grown old of the crazy eyeshadow anyway.