Amanda Helms

… if it isn’t Amanda!

(coughs) Hey, website.

How are you? Seems like it’s been ages since you’ve graced my pages. I’d give you the exact number of months, but having to say it may cause me to have a brain aneurysm.

More likely me than you, seeing as I’m the one with an actual brain. (coughs)

True enough. I’d apologize for all the dust, but we both know that’s not my fault.

Yeah, yeah…

Anyway, so what’ve you been up to, lo, these many months?

Well, there was the move into the townhouse.

Mm-hmm. And as I recall, that was completed about two months ago.

But then there was the unpacking of boxes. And I’m still not done with that.

But you see your floor, right? You’re “done enough” to go shopping on the weekends and whatnot.

To the farmer’s market! I’m buying local! And I joined a CSA, so I have all this food prep to do to keep the food from going to waste.

Didn’t I also hear that you joined Netflix again?

Um, yeah. But I’m only on the one-out-a-time plan!

Oh, of course. And how about that satellite you were thinking you’d cancel as a result of rejoining Netflix?

Er. Still connected.

I see. And Netflix has greatly improved its streaming service since you were last a member. So I’m told.

(coughs)

I think you’ve already cleared away the dust, dear.

But I do much more stuff than watch movies! I’ve been working to improve my posture and mobility. And I bought a Freestyle Suspension Trainer to help with workouts. I mean, I don’t want to reach 60 and be unable to move due to sitting all the time.

Laudable goals, yes. And regarding that bit about sitting all the time–didn’t you have plans to purchase a treadmill and treadmill desk so you could walk while writing?

I’m waiting for my $8000 tax credit to come in.

All right, Amanda, let’s cut to the chase. How’s the writing coming along?

. . .

It’s not coming along, is it? What about Holly Lisle’s How to Think Sideways course that you signed up for as a means to–what was it? Jumpstart you?

(sighs) I’m still getting the lessons, but I’m about six weeks behind now. I think. It might be more. I discovered my pet idea that’s supposedly been percolating in my head since NaNoWriMo ‘04 has no plot. Worse, I can’t give it one. Nothing fits. Everything I think of feels wrong. I don’t want to give up on it, website, but I think I need to shelve it again. And it’s not that I don’t have any other ideas to use for Think Sideways, but I just feel, stymied, you know? I mean, it’s a huge blow to one’s–well, my–writerly ego to realize I have problems with plot. I like Stephen King’s concept of Story and all, but I don’t think his method of write write write and let things flow really works for me. I mean, I can do it–I’ve finished NaNo that way–but then I wind up with a series of events that aren’t Story. And there’s a decided lack of conflict. So I need more structure upfront, I think. But at the same time, I feel like Think Sideways may be too structured for me, even though it’s supposed to be designed to walk the balance between left-brain and right-brain writing. (grabs a tissue and sniffles)

There, there. Let it all out. I’d pat you on the back if I had hands.

Thanks, website. (blows nose) But that’s not the worst of it. (lowers voice to a whisper) I think my muse left me.

Oh, my. That is serious. Please know that if I had arms, I would now give you a hug.

I appreciate it, website, particularly since I’ve been so remiss with you for the past, um, mumblety-something days/weeks/months. Like I said, I have other ideas I could use for Think Sideways, but they’re overall ideas that still need more plotting. And it also sucks that I’ve lost ground with Think Sideways since my original idea isn’t panning out. Now I have to go back and repeat some lessons.

Careful; you’re starting to whine.

But if I can’t whine to you, website, whom can I whine to? Then a while ago Miss Snark’s First Victim had a post called On Writing As Career. I get her point, I truly do. And I believe it. If I want to write for my career, I have to treat it as a career now. But what with the full-time job and the CSA and the cooking and the mobility work and–well, everything, I don’t have much more time to devote to writing. Then the prep work I do doesn’t feel like it’s writing, even though I know ostensibly it’s saving me time in the long run.

(sighs) Look, Amanda, you already know the responses to your excuses and the answers to your unspoken questions. You’ve said yourself that writers write, period. You’ve said that the only way to get past writer’s block is to write through it. If you really feel the prep work from Think Sideways isn’t helping you, or that it’s not “real” writing, then take a break from that and get back to the basics. Journal. Write a scene you do have in mind. Blather on for page after page about character development.

Um, but I don’t want to wind up in the Stephanie Meyer route, with lots and lots of  “characterization” but little to no actual plot. Particularly since I already show unfortunate tendencies in that direction.

Says the unpublished writer regarding the multimillion-dollar author. You may not want to write like Stephanie Meyer, but she did manage to get published. Go thou and do likewise.

(thoughtful silence) Hey, website?

Yes?

You’re not my muse, are you?

Do you want the psychobabble/metaficition bit about me being part of your subconscious that you have consciously employed in order to write this post, or do you want to stick with the simpler “you’re weird”?

Weird’s good for writing. If you mean weird in terms of creativity, I mean.

Weird it is, then.*

Hey! I see that footnote!

Go away and write something.

I should probably apologize for not blogging in so long, but it’s my blog, so I don’t have to. Makes me feel all mighty and powerful in a world where my control is small and finite. Or something.

Anyway, I moderate all my comments so as to prevent the vast body of spammers from infiltrating my blog. Spambots have even tried to “comment” on the pen image on my home page. In Russian, if I recall correctly. Most I just mark as spam immediately, but occasionally some pop up and make me smile. Or furrow my brow in bewilderment. Case in point:

The author of amandahelms.com has written an excellent article. You have made your point and there is not much to argue about. It is like the following universal truth that you can not argue with: If it is on the Internet, it must be free. If it is not free, it must be stolen at every opportunity. If it is not stolen at every opportunity, it must be remarkably inferior to something else that is duly free or stolen at every opportunity. Thanks for the info.

Yeah, this was more of a head-scratcher than smiler. It’s so convoluted that I struggle even to come up with snide commentary*. My “article” was my most recent excerpt from my NaNo project, in which I made a point about–nothing. That was the point where my brow first furrowed itself.

But of course the bulk of it is that “universal truth” bit. It’s so convoluted I’m having trouble coming up with snide commentary, other than that, no, not everything on the Internet “must be free,” IMHO. I mean, sure, it’d be nice if amazon.com would just send me free books and Blu Rays, but seeing as I’d like people to spend money on my book when I get one published, I hardly think it’s fair to exempt myself from that. Besides, there is some online content one must pay for, which I don’t have a problem with. The creators are providing a service, after all, and should be recompensed for their work.

So, spammer, though you made me pause for a moment with your somewhat more original “comment” before you wanted to link to your webpage about cheap insurance or payday loans or whatever it was, you are still trying to put spam on my blog, which I do not allow. Je ne sais quoi factor or no.

*Epic fail on my part.  I do apologize for that. And weep for my lack of wit.

Post titles, that is. Were authors to stop titling their books, leaving blank spine after blank spine on the shelves of my local Borders, there would be havoc. Geeky, bibliophiliac havoc, which I suppose isn’t as havoc-like as what one might find at an anarchist meeting, but still. Havoc of a sort. So titles are important for some things.

But for this post, eh.

Anyway, I’m somewhat rethinking the direction of this blog/site after reading yet again about folding publishers, closing agencies, and the general decline of the traditionally published word. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not one of those doomsayers who thinks books are dying. Or rather, that the written word is dying. I think there will always be a need for stories. I’m just not so naive as to suspect the medium in which we get our stories is static. Or that the type of stories people want to read is static.

I have no hard plans yet, but I may discontinue my Thursday 300 posts. Or at least decrease the frequency. While I do believe that the “story-medium” is changing, there are still quite a few publishers out there who won’t accept works that have appeared on the Internet, as they consider that “published.” I’m trying to be realistic about what avenues I have of getting my work out there, but being realistic doesn’t mean I have to light a match and toss it on the bridges behind me. Even if they are already decrepit.

Right, that made sense as I was typing it. It may not in the morning.

As for the possible new direction, I’m keeping that to myself for the moment while I decide if it’s actually something I want to do or not. I don’t figure there’s much point in blathering about it here when it’s still a big question mark.

So yeah, not much going on with this post. Now you see why I didn’t have a real title for it.

A confession: My inner bread baker is a sourdough snob. I hesitate to use the term “inner bread baker,” since that implies the baker aspect of my persona is somehow cut off from the rest of me, or that it’s like a rarely worn shirt hanging in the back of my closet, that, when I want to wear it again, I have to pull out of a protective plastic cover and let it air out for a bit to get rid of the smell of mothballs.

Only I think mothballs are used in drawers and not the closet so much. I don’t know. I have never had to employ the use of mothballs. But that’s a tangent, anyhow.

So “inner bread baker” isn’t quite accurate, but nor would the more plebeian “amateur,” which I mean not as some naif of the bread-baking world, entirely ignorant of rising times and shaping and slashing loaves, but as an initiate studying the craft, as it were. That sort of amateur wants to become a master. Don’t get me wrong; I want to be a decent bread baker, and on the whole I think I am, but there are thousands if not millions of people better at it than I am. I enjoy baking, but I only do it as I need it, whether for the end product of the loaf or for the therapy/relaxation inherent with working with the dough. A serious amateur, I think, would bake to get better. Regularly.

So I’m not a true amateur and I don’t like the term “inner bread baker.” But I am definitely a sourdough snob. I do use dry yeast, but I get a greater sense of satisfaction from using my sourdough starter. I baked a loaf of sourdough bread today that was my best riser that I recall. It’s going to become a bread bowl for an artichoke cheese dip so I haven’t tasted it yet. But the rise was impressive enough to make me consider an activity more suited to an amateur bread baker than whatever I am: take pictures. Hey, it would be more interesting than taking pictures of myself writing. I mean, people like food. It has universal appeal. The creative process, however, not so much. Particularly since a great deal of it involves me staring at a blinking cursor.

Anyway. Why I’m a sourdough snob. There are those who argue that the flavor profile of a sourdough loaf is superior to that of an active yeast loaf, due to the slower rise and slower development of the wild yeast of the sourdough. Also, some have extolled the variety of sourdough. My sourdough should have a different taste to it than my mom’s sourdough, or a San Francisco sourdough, since the yeast spores in my kitchen differ from those in my mom’s kitchen and those in San Francisco. So yeah, there’s the flavor thing.

Aside from that, though, I just like the concept of sourdough. It’s almost like alchemy: I mix together water and flour and set it on my counter for a few days. I forget about it, and all on its own it starts getting bubbly and frothy and develop a pleasant, yeasty aroma.*

But it’s not alchemy, of course; it’s nature. Or science, if you start getting technical about the “how” of it. Both/and. But still, in this world where, were technology to be somehow stripped from my life, I would likely die** that making a loaf of bread is so simple does almost feel like magic.

The ingredients of my sourdough loaf are bread flour, water, whey (which could account for the nice rise), and salt. Since the yeast spores are from my kitchen and not a little packet, it’s about as close to “homemade” as you can get.  And people have been making bread like this for thousands of years. It is, well, neat. Yes, I am aware of how inadequate that sounds.

Still. That’s why I’m a sourdough snob.

_______________________________________________________

*Well, pleasant to me. Some people don’t like the smell of fermentation.

**I’m not being facetious; it’s currently 10ºF and feels like 0º according to weather.com. Plus, I’m not sure how long I could gather foodstuffs before eating a poisonous berry or mushroom. I’m botanically ignorant.

Thousands of novelists are, as I write this post, frantically typing away at their novel, hoping their heads don’t explode or their fingers catch fire from the friction of speedy keyboarding. Or at least that their heads kindly delay their explosions and fingers their igniting until after midnight, local time, so that they may verify their novels and claim their winner goodies, and enjoy the satisfaction of writing 50,000 words–or more–in thirty days.

But not me.

….

….

….

Did I hear gasps of shock and horror? Likely not, since I am quite sure that no one reading this is so caught up with my life or my NaNoing that the prospect of my failure kindles in them deep-seated dismay.

But if I am wrong, I implore you: Get your own life. No offense.

Anyway, I am not feverishly working on my novel or stressing about verifying word count since I hit 50k on hmm the 21st, I think it was, and verified over the weekend just in case the server went down or something today (which always happens around midnight). Far better to have a badge and be locked in a with a slightly inaccurate number, methinks, than to not get my badge and certificate at all.* My caution proved unnecessary, though, since I just updated my novel info with my final November word count (though I did include the words written for my aborted idea–hey, it was written during November, so I figure it’s all good). I am officially verified at 82,541 words, which is around 1,000 more than what I wrote last year, and is therefore my new record. So yay!

And now let us bask in my NaNoWriMo Winner badge.

Aww, pretty, isn’t it? *sniffle*

This year marks my sixth year of participation and my sixth win. I’m not done with the story yet, but am close enough that I think I’ll have the first draft finished by mid-December. But to ensure I get it done, I’m giving myself a hard deadline of December 21, which is two days before I head to Austin for Christmas. I’ll likely break entirely from writing during vacation, though I’ll need to think of something to keep myself going while Disenchantment will sits for a month or two so I can gain some distance from it. Then I’ll commence with revising and rewriting.

And two or three drafts later, hopefully it’ll be in a shape I can shop around to agents. Which I would normally pontificate about, but the idea is still too abstract–I’ve never seriously shopped any of my stuff. I tend to have issues with starting long projects and not finishing them, or not wanting to put the work into revising them. New ideas get too bright and shiny.

But of course that’s part of the discipline necessary to become a published writer. First drafts, particularly when written under a system like NaNo, are almost always crap. But underneath the crap there’s some good stuff. And yes, cleaning off the crap is yucky and hard and unpleasant, but necessary if you–well, let’s be honest: if I–don’t want to keep that pile of steaming crap around.

So for now I’ll enjoy my win and commit to finishing the first draft. The rest of it will come.

But in the meantime, I send out my positive vibes to those furiously typing novelists. My your fingers fly swiftly to bring you to your 50k, and may the NaNoWriMo site servers not become overloaded as you log on to verify your word count.

And even if the servers are overloaded, and even if you did not reach 50k, every word you wrote is still an accomplishment. For every Wrimo who fell short of 50k, there are still a hundred more who didn’t even try.

*winces at the corniness*

Um. I’m signing off now before my schmaltz filter fails completely. Good luck, novelists!

* Though I’ve never printed out the certificate. Don’t get me wrong; I love NaNo–November isn’t November without it–but printing out my winner certificate alone in my apartment, signing my name to it, also alone in my apartment, and putting it on my wall where only I will see it strikes me as, well, somewhat sad.

I thought about calling this “The Obligatory Thanksgiving Post,” but decided that had too negative a connotation, like it’s just something I need to check off my list: “Oh, it’s Thanksgiving; time to be thankful,” since of course we ought to always be mindful of the blessings we’ve received. Still, thankfulness is the core of the holiday, and honestly coming up with these Miscellany Monday posts is harder than I thought it’d be. That whole thing about boundaries freeing you, I guess. When you can write about anything, it can actually be harder to come up with ideas. So yeah, I’m not above looking to the season for inspiration.

Here it is, in no particular order.

I’m thankful…

1. That I’m solvent. Maybe my safety cushion isn’t as big as I’d like, but I’m not living paycheck to paycheck. I do have a buffer. A tiny one, but I have it. And that I still have enough leftover to feed my book edition and buy various baking accessories.
2. That my parents have always supported my dreams. I’m sure it helps that I see the necessity of a day job and not mooching off them while I purse my goal of publication, but still. They’ve always encouraged me to figure out what I want to do, without trying to impart their ideas on me. (Though I’m sure my dad is still somewhat regretful that I didn’t prove to be physics- or math-inclined.)
3. For Christ’s sacrifice.
4. For my senses, which allow me to perceive beauty. Harmony is a lovely thing. Sunsets are lovely things. The smell of cinnamon is a lovely thing. So is the taste of cinnamon, but of course most of what we taste is actually smell. But still. Lovely. Hugs. Hugs can be beautiful, too. *pauses to count* Yup. That’s all five senses. If I had a sixth sense I’d go into that, but no, I don’t see dead people.
5. That I don’t see dead people. It’d freak me out.
6. That I have a job which, even in the midst of a merger, is relatively secure. It’s good to work directly on what makes money for the company.
7. That even if I were to lose my job, I have people I could turn to for help.
8. That even if I were to lose my job, I still know where my meals are coming from for at least a month. I am sure I have that much food in my kitchen, which is not the case for many people in this country and abroad.
9. For my dear college roommates, to whom I know I can say anything and still receive unconditional love. (Well, unless I told one roommate that Batman is the worst superhero ever, she might not forgive me. Luckily I don’t feel that strongly about Batman, so I’m safe.)
10. That I still have a local support system of friends and family, since my dear college roommates have not deigned to move to Colorado. *sniff*
11. That I have the time to indulge in activities that make me happy–writing and baking. (I’d be happier yet if the calories derived from eating what I bake didn’t affect me, but oh well.)
12. For my health. And that I have decent health insurance in case something were to go wrong.
13. That I’m a permanent employee. I have been a temp, and it sucks. A lot.
14. For my family, both immediate and extended. I am blessed to have a family that gets along with everyone.
15. That my uncle’s blocked artery was caught relatively quickly, and that the balloon angioplasty went well. Still praying about the aneurysm they found, and thankful that they did find it while he was still in the hospital.
16. For dogs, even though I don’t have one living with me right now. Dogs are a perfect example of unconditional love.
17. That zombies aren’t real. The idea of having ambulatory, rotting corpses pursuing me to eat my brains does not appeal.*
18. That I live in Colorado. I love our mountains and 300 days of sunshine. I have been without, and did not enjoy it.
19. To have a roof over my head and central heating.
20. For fuzzy socks, a cup of hot chai tea, and a book to read.

Twenty is a nice number, so I’ll leave it at that. Happy Thanksgiving, whatever readers I have!

*And for those who might say that zombies are real, well then fine; I’m thankful I’ve never encountered one.

So one of my favorite threads over at the NaNoWriMo site is the NaNoisms thread. “NaNoisms” are the humorous mistakes that come about as a result of sleep deprivation and constant pummelings of one’s Inner Editor and Inner Critic, beings who are banished during the course of NaNo since the idea is to get the novel out first and edit later.

True to the NaNo philosophy, I haven’t gone back and reread much of what I’ve written. But I have found a couple from rereading my previous day’s last paragraph to reorient myself, and also as I’ve written them:

Light from the scones on the walls caught the unshed tears in her eyes and made them shine.

and

She appeared to them as just shadow in the flickering light from the wall-scones, when they bothered to look in her direction at all.

Yes. I did indeed make that mistake twice. Several pages apart.

Then there was also this:

One of the cookies looked up and jutted a thumb at the table toward the back of the kitchens.

As I wrote for that particular post to the NaNoisms thread, I haven’t included anthropomorphic baked goods in my novel–yet. But yeah, my NaNoisms do reveal a deep-seated love of bakery goods. I am caught out.

1. Getting in over 9000 words (and not even including the 843 I lost when my computer crashed during a Write or Die session) during the weekend means I’m caught up on NaNoWriMo after switching ideas on Day 3 last week. And if I get in approximately 2650 each day, I’ll hit 75k by the end of the month. Not a record for me (which was last year at 81k-some-odd), but still pretty good, I think, considering the idea switch and that I’m not taking the full week of Thanksgiving off of work, like I did last year.

2. My FREE KitchenAid Artisan Stand Mixer arrived today, just six days after I ordered it last week. Charging groceries and the like to my credit card and paying it off each month can be a good thing. Baking of some sort will have to figure into my weekend so I can test it out. Right now I’m thinking a basic chocolate chip cookie dough recipe, but with dark-chocolate covered goji berries replacing the chips. That way I will get at least some of them out of my kitchen, as they’ve proven to be a snacking food.

That is all. I have a write-in to get to.

It’s a bad sign when I hit writer’s block on the first day. Seeing as I prewrote this post on Sunday, when it goes live I should be a Monday-night write-in, hopefully with a better clue of what I’m doing than on Day 1.

Though I did at least hit my 1667 quota, if not the 2734 I need for my personal goal of 82k (still working on it–supposedly–as I write this).

This is why it’s bad to procrastinate on planning. And this is why I envy Stephen King and his stories that pull themselves out of his navel. That is all.

It’s a bad sign when I miss my exit because I’m thinking about this recipe. I love King Arthur Flour, both their products and their recipes. I can’t recall a single failure from following their recipes, and though I think I make a pretty good baker, I seem to consistently get the most praise with King Arthur. So when I have a hankering for pumpkin cinnamon rolls, and then the heavens smile upon me and lead me to a King Arthur recipe for pumpkin cinnamon rolls, you can bet I’ll pay attention. And now it’s been over three weeks since I first read the recipe, and these cinnamon rolls have yet to grace my kitchen.

I will remedy that this weekend. And I missed my exit because I was thinking of all the iterations I might try on the recipe: What if I did a sourdough version? Not the best idea since my sourdough baking still leaves something to be desired, and especially since the weather’s turning colder, so the rise would be even slower… hmm. What if I tried adding whey to the dough to give it a bit of oomph? But I don’t have any whey on hand and probably won’t strain yogurt before the weekend–

And I want a nice, gooey filling. Preferably maple. But how to make a gooey maple filling? It’d need butter or other fat, since the dough would absorb the liquid from the maple syrup. Could also add brown sugar, but would that mask the maple taste? Wonder if I could find a filling online that I could modify…

And so on, until

Oh crap, that was my exit!

I am trying not to think too deeply about what this means for me as a writer. I don’t believe I’ve ever missed an exit because I was ruminating about  characters or plot. And I’m also trying not to think too deeply about what this means for NaNoWriMo in particular.

Hey. I do have an idea. And characters. And things the characters will do. Even if those lists aren’t particularly long yet, they’re existent.

Besides, I kind of like to wing it.  More of a challenge for the ol’ imagination. Really stretch it to its limits. Flex my creative muscles.

Cough.

Anyway.

Since I’ve posted previously about my love of pumpkin, it likely doesn’t come as a surprise that I’ve taken to hoarding pie pumpkins. The last few times I’ve gone to the grocery store, I’ve had to resist the sudden leap of joy: They’re still here! I can get one! (ignoring that it’s unlikely they’ll disappear from supermarkets until at least Thanksgiving. And if that happens, it means there’s a pumpkin shortage.*)

Because they’re still sitting on my kitchen counter. Well, I’m down to one intact pumpkin, but still. I have a bit of puree left from my first pumpkin, all the puree from my second, and the third is patiently waiting its turn to be gutted, roasted, and bludgeoned to a pulp.

Some of my current puree will go toward making pumpkin chili for the chili cookoff/Halloween party at my work. Never made pumpkin chili before–and I’ve never participated in the cookoff–but I figure I’ll give it a go. Some of it I’ll add to my morning oatmeal. And the rest for those luscious cinnamon rolls. It’ll make for a lovely Halloween breakfast, a pre-NaNo fortifying treat.

Maybe I’ll miss some exit on Saturday as I panic about NaNo. Or reminisce over the taste of the cinnamon roll; whatever.

*A pause while I clutch my chest in fear and whimper. I must be strong.