Triumph!

Pathetic though this may be, after five rather long years of waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, whining, waiting and waiting, my novel finally has a structure, from beginning to end. [Insert groan here.] Hey, it’s not as easy as it looks! I toyed with it for what seemed like forever and, in true ironic fashion, it came to me (complete, no less) in about five minutes, during a break at my unrelated job. Ah, the life and times of an uninspired author…

This does mean, however, that I will actually be able to start some meaningful writing. Like soon. Now, I’m not making any promises as far as finishing this little gem (ha!), but I will say that a certain family member seemed to imply the threat of death if said relation did not get to read the whole thing in complete form at some point. This may, of course, considerably speed up the process as the aforementioned kin lives close enough to check my progress often. We shall see.

I shall waste no more of your time babbling about it, then, but hopefully, excuse myself to write some literary brilliance. Pardon me while I choke on my laughter.

Make That a Rondon’t

Ah, Beethoven. Honestly, if I could speak German, put up with a musical temperament nastier than my own and didn’t mind the occasional food fight, I think I’d marry the man. Oh, and I guess I’d have to ignore that pretty rank smell when he decided not to ever change his clothes and stuff. And the, you know…crazy.

So maybe Beethoven and I wouldn’t work out but I can still love his music. That doesn’t mean, however, that I have to love what he makes me go through whilst practicing said music. I’ve already spoken of my undying devotion to the second movement of his seventh symphony but today, I’m going to show the other side of my Beethoven feelings: those ones that just might inspire the murder of arguably the greatest composer who ever walked this Earth. (Sidenote: ever notice how Beethoven really seemed to nail second movements?)

Technically, I haven’t played the whole thing yet. Technically. I’ve played the first two movements but every time I get to the Rondo I just sorta…chicken out. I’ve played through it but certainly not up to speed. It frightens me something terrible and I just can’t manage to plow through it. I want to play it, I’m simply afraid to. Ah, the travails of a mediocre pianist. Seriously, though…have you ever seen it? Let’s take a look, shall we?

So, you take a look at the tempo marking and think…”Wow, 96 for an Allegro? That’s awfully slow.” But then you look at your time signature and see that it’s cut time, which immediately leads to “You bastard!” Cut time means that a half note–the one with the hole in the middle and the line coming down–gets 1 beat. Usually, the quarter note does–there are two at the end of the little snippet. Which basically means that any tempo set, it’s really twice as fast. That 96 is beats per minute. So, if the number said 60, in one minute, you could play 60 quarter notes. In cut time, however, you’d play 120. Which means that a 96 in cut time is a 192 in common, or 4/4, time. And the recording that I have is faster than that. Not by a little, either. It blows my simple little mind.

Um, yeah, I think it’s great that Beethoven, in addition to being one of the world’s best composers ever was also a fabulously brilliant pianist. Just super. Wow, I just cannot convey to you how excited I am about this. Or, hey, what about that story how when Beethoven was a kid, he was composing things that were so difficult he couldn’t play them himself? Excuse me, I think I need to go and vomit now.

Beethoven…Ludwig…why, oh, why? Why not write pieces the rest of us not-brilliant pianists can play well, too? Perhaps something that I don’t have to have Rachmaninoff hands to be able to accomplish?

This isn’t my hand but it’d be helpful if my fingers were that long.

I just want to be able to play well…is it too much to ask? You’d think so, of course. “It is not the music,” you’d say sharply, grimacing at the idea of such a request, “but the player.” Yes, Ludwig, I know. I apologize for my lack of genius. But isn’t it enough to love your music?

“Maybe,” you’d think. “Maybe.” In the meantime, I’d slowly shuffle back to the beginning, preparing to grit my teeth and try and make it through the movement before you threw me off the bench and banned me from ever touching a pianoforte ever again.

Even More Shameless Self-Promotion

To further hype the buzz surrounding the upcoming podcast The Writer’s Notebook (and yes, it’s coming, we’re just not sure when), I’m going to post the official logo, designed by yours truly and unanimously approved just today. Enjoy–and please let us know what you think.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows–for Real

Ok, I totally figured out the ending to book seven in the Harry Potter series…I hate to spoil it for you all, but honestly, this was just too great to keep to myself. In all its glory, how it will all come down in that final match between Harry and his über-nemesis, Lord Voldemort:

P.S. It’s things like these that tell everyone I have too much time on my hands to play around in Photoshop…

P.P.S. YES, I know there’s a typo. I’m not going to go through all that work again just to fix it. You’ll all have to deal.

And Now, A Round of Shameless Self-Promotion

Ever heard of a podcast called The Writer’s Notebook? You haven’t? Oh, that’s because it’s not on iTunes or a website yet.

But it will be.

My friend Laura and I happen to be hilarious when we’re together; incidentally, we also happen to be writers. So we thought we’d take these talents and bring them to you, the public. The show will address topics in the realm of writing, from the perspective of two completely unknown and struggling writers. We’ll also include some fun grammar tips (honestly, they really help) and pop-culture type writing topics on occasion. We hope to get the first episode recorded and up by next week and then new shows bi-weekly after that. If the schedule changes, I’ll let you know.

So please, please, please, please, PLEASE tune in from either the website or iTunes. You’ll be able to subscribe to the show, as well, if you don’t want to have to remember (or if you’re not sure) when new episodes are available for download. If you love–or even just kinda like a little bit–writing and you don’t want to hear the same drivel that’s been played on a loop since forever, listen to The Writer’s Notebook. We’ll even give you a cookie!

Update: Operation Fountain Pen

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I went ahead and treated myself to a rather nice Cross® Century II fountain pen. I even took a little home movie of it, so you can see why I’m so excited. Now, I don’t promise great things–or anything, for that matter, nor do I expect it–but at least the handwriting will look a little bit better than it usually does. Yes, the video is rudimentary (directors everywhere give a united cringe) but it’ll do. Enjoy!

Fountain pen

20 Silent Messages about 20 People

I borrowed this from Laura (and Mel, by extension). The concept is to tell 20 different people things you couldn’t tell them in real life. The people must also be kept anonymous. I’ve found it to be pretty great therapy. What would be interesting is to do it again in a year or two and see how things have changed. These are in no particular order. Enjoy!

1. You changed my life completely from the moment we first talked and you continue to change it in every single day. Despite what you think, I wouldn’t change one moment of anything that’s happened between us. I wish that the English language had a way to convey my true feelings about you, but it doesn’t, so this will have to do.

2. You’ve hurt my feelings a lot and I wish I could say hurtful things in return but I love you so much that I can’t. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry. If that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is.

3. I am so sorry for the way that I have acted over the years. I know you think I don’t respect you or think highly of you but you’re wrong. I wish I could be a good person like you.

4. You put me on the road to getting my life together and for that, I will always thank you. In the end, I wasn’t good enough for you and I realized that I never will be. I miss you all the time but I’m glad that you’re not a part of my life anymore. I know I will always mourn what could have been.

5. I thought you wanted to be my friend but the more I think about it, the more I realize you seemed to be going with the crowd, like you always do. I hope that one day, you will find the person you need to be, so that you don’t rely on others to tell you who that is. Despite the fact that I know I can never be in any kind of relationship with you, I wish you the best and hope that you find real happiness.

6. I find it so strange that we are so similar, and yet, neither of us have a problem with simply being ourselves. You are my peace guru. You are amazingly talented and I wish you would realize this. I know you can be what you want if you keep at it.

7. I knew that you were special when we talked that first time and there isn’t anything that has changed my mind. You don’t know it but you are one of the most wonderful people in my life and though I know we don’t talk as often as we should, I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.

8. I know that I am not always very nice to you and that I should be there for you more. I’m sorry that I’m not and I hope that one day, I will gain the maturity I need to treasure you the way I should. Thank you for being a part of my life.

9. I want you to know that I love you but I’m scared to tell you that, both for what it will mean and that you’ll take it the wrong way. You were the first person to take my life seriously and for that, I must offer thanks that will never be good enough. I wish that you could always be close by in my life but I know it’s not possible. I value your advice more than you will ever know but I’m afraid to talk to you anymore because I think I’ll be a disappointment.

10. You helped get me through one of the darkest periods of my life, and you did it with laughter, much-needed love and a sense of humor about the whole thing. Also, you were always there to listen, even when everyone else wasn’t.

11. You turned out to be a horrible person masquerading as a nice one. I only wish I had come to this conclusion sooner. I doubt you will be truly happy in your life.

12. I wish that you could see you are more than him. You used to be fun until you thought he was more important than everything else.

13. I hope that you don’t think poorly of me. I didn’t plan for things to happen that way.

14. I didn’t think I could love anyone as much as I love you. I remember the day you came into my life and I hope that one day, you can look at me and see someone to admire.

15. Ditto.

16. I wish I had told you how cool you were while we still talked. I remember thinking for those two years how lucky I was to have such an awesome friend.

17. I’ll always wonder how you really felt about me, though I think I already know.

18. Thank you for always talking with me about something that mattered, even if I said the same thing over and over and over again.

19. I saw through you from the beginning. You are a liar, even though you are nice. I know why you were my friend and I know it wasn’t because I was such a wonderful person.

20. Sometimes I think it’s weird that you look up to me; I’m less confident than I’ll ever let on. Relationships won’t be like the ones in storybooks and I hope that you realize that soon. Magic is created, rather than experienced. It will happen, just give it time.

Coloring With My Emotional Crayons

I know that this was supposed to be the democratic process and all but a comment from Peter (if you’re reading, introduce yourself!) made me rethink the whole look: “Dusk is a bit more ‘romantic,’ a bit more colored emotionally…” Well, if I’m not “colored emotionally,” then the Earth quite possibly is flat, indeed, and people have been falling off the edge and nobody found out. Basically, I think this particular theme more accurately reflects the feel I want to create with the blog. Should you have any comments or criticisms about this decision, they’re always welcome.

Survivor: Theme Island

Ok, we’ve got eight fabulous themes to choose from and only one that can make it. So, it’s up to you, the readers, to vote in your favorite. I’ll provide screenshots of each one, along with a number. Just leave a comment with the number of your favorite and the one with the most votes wins! Remember, the polls close at 9 p.m. Central time. Tomorrow morning, you’ll see the theme that people liked the best! Happy voting!

#1: Ocadia

#2: Solipsus

#3: Rounded

#4: Jentri

#5: Fleur de Lys

#6: Fadtastic

#7: Dusk

#8: Andreas09

Why Fountain Pens Will Always Rock No Matter What You Say

Author’s note: this post is dedicated to Sara, who patiently waited far, far too long to receive it.

I’ve always loved writing by hand. Yes, it’s slow and inefficient but there’s just something about looking at a page filled with lines and lines of blue ink, words and paragraphs crossed out, little notes here and there in the margins; it gives me such a sense of accomplishment. I can look at that and say, “I wrote five pages today.” I can also say I do my best writing when I don’t have the delete key to hinder any progress.

That said, the writing instrument I use counts, too. Ballpoint pens have long been favored for their ease of use, disposability and inexpensiveness. All admirable enough qualities, I suppose, but because writing is such a personally meaningful endeavor, I suspect one might want to use something a bit less…transient, and in the worst sense. I find it a jarring juxtaposition indeed when an author presents me with a volume of Pulitzer quality and says proudly, “Yeah, for a long time, it was just me and the Bic.”

Now, that’s not to say I really believe that if an author bought a Cross pen and wrote exclusively with it, he’d manage the Pulitzer. Danielle Steel with a fountain pen is still drivel in artistic handwriting. There is merit, however, to the idea of a fine writing instrument enhancing the writing process. Monica Wood, in one of my most favorite writing books of all time, describes how a writer’s space is as important as what the writer puts on paper. Part of that space is the tools which reside there. After all, most top violinists play a Stradivarius or Guarneri. I can’t think of a classical pianist today who doesn’t record on a Steinway. Why should a writer not have superior instruments, as well?

Like a great Strad, there is something undefinable and remarkable about a fountain pen. Perhaps it’s the scratch of nib to paper or the way the ink flows seamlessly onto the page, thick and lush with color. It may even be that a fountain pen simply feels better in the hand than its thinner ballpoint counterpart. I have two fountain pens: one I bought at Borders, an inexpensive everyday kind of pen (and I use it as such), in electric blue; the other, by Sheaffer, is an older model that I adore because it had some wear on it already. Who knows what literary origins it might have seen? Even more to the point, it leaks a little bit. Nothing excessive, just enough to get some noticeable ink on my skin. For a ballpoint, I would consider that sort of thing a note on its quality. For my Sheaffer, it gives the pen great character. Walk around with black ink on your hands for a day and see how many people ask why. Tell them you’re a writer and see what happens. The reaction alone is worth the little extra soap you’ll have to use later to wash the ink off.

So while ballpoint pens may be cheap and easy, nothing quite compares to the sheer pleasure of using a good fountain pen. If a simple writing instrument can change how you feel about writing, imagine the possibilities it will have for the writing itself.