By my count (and I could be wrong) I do believe I've come to the end of my "every post must reference Lost" week. Who knows, I might give myself other theme weeks and this is definitely not the last we've heard from me on Lost in general.



This fan-made video properly expresses my excitement over taking the Alpha Males class with Laurie Schnebly Campbell:

Seriously, Lost is a fabulous source for studying different ways characters undertake the hero's journey. Also, take Laurie's classes. They're great. Trust me.



the Sawyer song properly conveys my bounciness today:



...and to take advantage of the current mashup trend, I pay tribute to some very talented fanvidders who have mashed Lost with other hit shows...at least in the opening credits:










Well, that gets me feeling all creative and inspired and ready to go pound keys. How about you?

Cat Sitting and Writing - two great tastes that taste great together?


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

I am getting good at this- and by "this" I mean making every post relate to Lost in some way. Though I am good at both writing and catsitting. That's Dharma Initiative cat food with the LOLcat there, and I now have a burning desire to obtain some. Ah, the swan station. Good times. Ayhoo...

Closing in on the end of the second round of catsitting. I have giant blisters on both heels (this is what happens when the temperature soars, melting the glue that held the top layer of padding in my shoes, thus making my dainty footsies slide too much...and this is way more than anybody wants to know about my feet, so I will change the subject.)There was an incident involving a cell phone that resulted in a bruise and some chafing and on this day alone, I have had two cats upon two separate occasions chitter outside the bathroom door, with one of them busting in on me. The recording of So You Think You Can Dance that I set for last night turned out to have a second half comprised entirely of a still shot of the McDonald's logo. Still on pee watch for one of the kitties and the fire alarm does not understand my explanations that while I recognize its need for a new battery, I was unable to obtain same in either of the two merchants within walking distance. :points to giant blisters mentioned above:

That previous paragraph is not complaining, it's statement of fact. Also statements of fact are: three out of three critique partners agree I wrote a very sexy apple; my walk from 2kitties location to 1kitty location provided me with the extremely rare weather where I can whip off my overshirt and get cool air on arms and shoulders (thank you, cloud cover, for I am porcelain of skin and can burn under a forty watt bulb, much less the summer sun.) Okay, that didn't have much to do with writing, but I have my blue racerback tank dress on and that always gives a boost of confidence. (I'm girly. I love clothes. Deal.) Plus my metal water bottle is red with black skull and crossbones and it makes me happy.

So does rambling. I am talking about writing today, I promise. Last night was my weekly nag group, especially precious this time because it comes after one member's trip to Ireland and before her trip to Louisiana. Lucky stiff. So we got virtual travel tales along with the usual benefits. Which is where the sexy apple comes in.

Before anyone gets any weird ideas, no apples were harmed in the scene in question. There is an actual apple, and besides being a tasty fruit, this apple is a symbol of the life my hero has been afraid to admit he wants, but finally admits he does. It's not so much the apple he wants, but what the apple and its seeds represent. I'd had some concerns about using this scene to set up the road story to come, as well as the tension between hero and heroine. Having three out of three critique partners agree that it worked is heady stuff, and gives me impetus to boot Word and get cracking on polishing that story to a fare-thee-well. :cracks knuckles:

Happy Dance Friday #4

This week's edition inspired by this blog entry by the fabulous Kimberly Loomis. Okay, I will admit that there isn't a heckuva lot of dancing on Lost, but read on. I'll find a way. This week, I declare an all-So You Think You Can Dance edition, because my geekery for this show knows no bounds and rivals my Lost geekery. So this week, performances from and relating to SYTYCD.

First, I had the great pleasure to see the Season Three tour live, and rank Hok and Jamie's "Hummingbird Dance," seen live, as one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life.


More Kasprzak love - Ryan Kasprzak's choreography reel. This guy makes me want to think of ways to convince DH that I really do need someone to choreograph tap routines for random events in our lives. Maybe it's like Steve Martin said, that all world leaders should be given banjos, because it's impossible to be angry while playing the banjo. Same with tap dancing, I'm thinking. Hm, Lost told entirely through tap? If anyone could do it, it would be Ryan Kasprzak. Though Ryan didn't make the top twenty when he auditioned for SYTYCD, his brother, Evan, did, thanks in part to Ryan's choreography. Stuff like this:


Another dancer who I would have liked to have seen go farther on the show in seasons past was Ben Susak. Here, he dances with Pam Chu (who is new to me, but wow, is she wonderful) in a piece choreographed by Wade Robson, another one of my choreograpy crushes. This routine was performed on SYTYCD by Joshua and Katee, but this is raw, intimate, and it's longer and a bit more, um, mature. I want to bottle this and pour it into one of my stories.


Wade Robson himself. This only makes me like parking garages more. (I have had a thing for parking garages since I was a little kid. Do not ask me why.)


Here's the routine that made me fall head over heels in love with the genius that is Wade Robson. Who knew dancing zombies could be beautiful and elegant as well as scary? To make another Lost allusion, if Ryan Kasprzak could choreograph the happy part of Lost, I want Wade Robson to handle the scary ones. Dancing Smoke Monster? You know he could make it work.

Don't Tell Me What I Can't Do....

See what I did there? Worked a Lost reference into an actual writing blog. Hm. Wonder if I can keep that up for a whole week.

For those who haven't been sharing my obsession for the past six years, "don't tell me what I can't do" was the motto of Lost character John Locke. When he actually was John Locke and not the dead guy whose body the smoke monster borrowed, that is. We first hear Locke make his iconic statement when he is refused a place on the Australian walkabout he'd come halfway across the world to undertake. Granted, he was, at the time, a paraplegic confined to a wheelchair, but that didn't stop him from doing the research, amassing a truly impressive cache of hunting equipment and flying all the way to Australia to pursue what he firmly believed was his destiny.

The tour company's insurance provider had other ideas, and so Locke didn't get to make that walkabout. That one. He didn't plan on getting put back on a plane home to his truly depressing life...nor did he plan on the plane crashing on an uncharted island...or the island curing his paralysis. When the survivors' food ran out and they'd spotted a wild boar in the jungle, well, golly, Locke happens to have all this hunting equipment and he knows how to use it. Free range pork dinner for all. That's only one of the things that branded Locke as the show's man of faith. Don't tell him what he can't do, indeed.

This carries on over to the writing life, especially for those of us who write genre fiction. In my case, romance. I knew I was a writer early on; there was never anything I wanted to do more than tell stories. There was a time when I honestly thought the only genres I would be "allowed" to write were science fiction and mystery, neither of which are right for me. For others, they are a perfect fit, but for me, about as good a fit as a Harley Davidson is for a goldfish. Still, I thought that was all there was. Don't ask me where I got this idea, but I got over it and I pushed through and found my voice.

Being a writer means having a strong sense of self and a tough hide. It means going after what one wants -destiny, if you will- even in the face of the "everybody knows" clan and the "supposed to" monster. Romance is fluff? Pah. Guilty pleasure? Half right, no reason for guilt. I'm proud of my books and proud of my genre. I am a Christian. I am a romance writer. These two are not mutually exclusive, nor am I restricted to the inspirational subgenre. I like to color with every crayon in the box. Love. Hate. Life. Death. Sex. God. Thought. Doubt. Faith. Despair. Triumph. Everything in between. I make my hero and heroine earn their HEA in a time and place that directly affects their personal journeys, individually as well as romantically.

No matter what genre or subgenre a writer calls home, someone (okay, a lot of someones) are going to start laying down "supposed to" stuff: the only period that sells is Regency England. Readers only want series and those only about the same generation. No blond heroes. Heroines must/can't be virgins. Add your own "supposed to" stuff here. Do all of that or your book and career are fated to share John Locke's seat back on the plane to his beige cubicle at his job in the office of a box factory. Wrong-o.

Tell your story the way it comes to you, because nobody else can tell it for you. Tell it until it's told, and finish, revise, submit, repeat. When all else fails, face your fears and give a hearty shout of "don't tell me what I can't do." Then gather your tools and go hunting, because you know you can bring home the goods.

Where I Am

I could be flippant and say I’m at Panera, or more grammatically correct, in a chair at Panera (though that would arguably be on the chair rather than in it – thank you, Professor Facos from Vermont College for haunting me all these years with that particular nit) but I’m feeling more writerly-philosophical than that.

After a break of a few days, I’m back in the cat-sitting game for the rest of the week. Not that I mind; I love the furries, they love me and litterbox duty is a small price to pay for companions who will not give me any sassback or roll their eyes when I start talking plot or characters out loud without being aware that I am doing so. They may exchange condescending feline glances, but they will not roll their eyes, and I’ll take that.

Thunderstorms slated for today, and if they can hold back until DH is at work and thus breathing his workplace’s air conditioning, I promise to remain calm. I love storms as long as nobody has to go to the ER. I have a thing about ERs.

That’s pretty much the real life stuff going on, so now we can get to the writing. I am still in Lost withdrawal. After a second viewing of the finale, I landed (pun unintended) in the thumbs up camp and off the WTF fence. Officially counting Lost as my favorite series, period. (Highlander and Moonlight vying for second, for those who care about these things.) Currently working my way through the Season One DVDs, planning to rewatch all six seasons, adding each season as I finish the last one. Discretionary budget permitting. Must check library. One more time through for pleasure, then time to break out the notebooks and start studying; what works for me in Lost and why does it work and how can I adapt parts of that for my own use?

During dinner with one of my critique partners, Melva, last week, we discussed current and upcoming projects. After regaling her with the big hairy jumble of stuff I’m working on now (I am the queen of multitasking; I’m happiest and most productive that way) she asked “what after that?” and I had a :blinkblink: moment. Yep, time to start thinking ahead for future stuff, even though I have days of thinking I’m drowning under what I’ve got. Refer to parenthetical comment above.

Which means it's time to start gathering inspiration; paying attention to what I'm reading, what I'm watching, the music I play over and over (apart from the playlists for each story I'm writing; every story has its own playlist) and indulge my TVTropes.org addiction. In short, time to put another pot of Idea Soup on the cooker. If one must know, the stove where these stories cook is an Aga. One of these, in pillar box red.

Haven't made icons in a while, but that may cycle around again. :pets Photoshop Elements: Though most of my Sims2 time recently has been devoted to Asylum challenges (I'm twisted that way) I do have plans for photoshoots so that's another reason to break out PSE and play.

New artistic kid on the block is beading; the necklace in the picture above reads "more," and is my favorite piece I've made to date. There will be, ah, more.

I’m blogging more, and I like that. Many thanks to those who comment either here or on Facebook. Since theming my Fridays and Saturdays seems to have lit the fire, I am considering other themes for other days. Maybe a similar look at keeper shelf or TBR books? TV? Writing process? Anything you’d like me to blab about? Drop a line and let me know.

Obligatory Lost Post

At least the first one. There may be more, because not only did we have six years of amazing storytelling, acting and speculation, but now that the finale has finally aired, there may still be as many questions as answers. I consider that a good thing. Fittingly enough for Lost, I'm of two minds about the finale.

One the one hand, and I think DH will side with me here, I still have questions. Whatever happened to Mr Abbadon (other than his actor's migration to Fringe) and what was his function? Who was Jacob and MIB's adoptive mother and how did she get there? Stuff like that. Must confer with DH on specifics before blabbering further.

On the other, this show has always been about the characters for me, and on that front, the finale excelled. I cried. A lot. It felt good. I think I have a better grasp on the whole flash sideways world/holding area/let's all meet at the church thing after I've had a couple of days to ponder it. My personal theory on why Ben wasn't ready to move on yet is that he wanted to stay longer in his flash sideways world and I can't blame him. The guy never had it so good as he did there. The flash sideways world gave him as much peace as he'd ever been able to have, but I still missed having him with everyone else. I like to think that, at that point, he would have been welcome.

Now that all's said and done, I have to give the romances on Lost an A+ overall. Sun and Jin. Rose and Bernard. The Jack/Kate/Sawyer/Juliet quadrangle, though I'm still not sure if everyone landed where I wanted them to land in that one. Maybe they did, maybe not. Sayid and Nadia. Sayid and Shannon were good, and a very interesting pairing, but Shannon rather than Nadia in the end for Sayid? Really? Really? :headshake: Eh, if it was plane people only, I guess. Hurley and Libby. Daniel and Charlotte. Charlie and Claire. Not to forget the big, big, pull out all stops romantic pairing of all, Desmond and Penny. If you aren't a slobbery pile of goo after watching this scene, I doubt your humanity:

Desmond and Penny's phone call

The last two lines between Sayid and Desmond can also apply to my overall impression of the Lost journey.