Flower Power

I marvel at how humans manage to pack so many meanings into a single word. A friend (the most excellent Miss P.) recently found a copy of Kate Greenaway's Language of Flowers at a used book store. I know she is a truly splendiferous friend because she was somehow able to give the book to me instead of keeping it for herself! Some of the meanings attached to specific flowers are hilarious. For example, if one were to give another a currant, the flower would signify "thy frown will kill me." One of my personal favorites is Rose Unique, which signifies "Call me not beautiful."

Friends, Ink.

I'm halfway through my BEASTLY revision, and I must confess that there have been times when I would rather play Frisbee with my computer than tap one more blasted word. However, as the computer I am currently using is actually my sister's, I have restrained my Frisbee impulses. But I'm not writing this post to mewel about writing woes. I want to talk about the amazing revivification powers friends possess.

I don't know how many times I've snapped the quill and declared surrender, and then a friend taped my courage back together with humor, ice cream, cajoling, etc. Sometimes I feel like my feeble Fantasia is down to the last grain of sand, and then a creative confidant brings the kingdom back with two well-placed words: Get busy.

Thanks, friends. I doff my tiara to your splendidness.

AKA Writer's Mantra

I'm a sticker addict, especially for quote stickers. Today I found one of my new personal favorites:

"Start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you're doing the impossible."

Superior advice from St. Francis of Assisi.

Children's Books You Wish You Read

Okay, this is just too funny!
http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1811404

Learning to read

Everything tells a story, but I don't always know how to read it. The way oak leaves rustle like crumpled brown stars against their boughs long after the other trees' leaves have been stripped away, the sudden comeliness of frost when it beads ragweed and rose with jewels, each is a narrative unfolding petal by page, second by sentence. Sometimes I have to laugh at myself hunched at my computer, tapping out echoes of color in my head, while out the window Nature is inking her wonders with the utmost sumptuosity.

Horace and the Big R

The poet and satirist Horace once noted, "Often you must turn your stylus to erase, if you hope to write anything worth a second reading."

Come winter break, I face off with a beastly Revision. I'm not sure how my story will survive the clash of ink quill and delete button, but in the end, I suppose it all comes down to character. The main protagonist's, that is. If I can save my main character, the story will adapt to the new path/sentence of her foot steps. I guess I just have to keep believing the trail is worth following to find her.