More antics

So today I'm feeding the baby when my husband leans out of my sons room and calls "honey, do you know what the hell is all over in here?" Knowing my children, I can only imagine. I go back to spooning Gerber spaghetti into my hungry little one, hoping my husband will handle it.

Two hours later I go in to help my son clean his room, and there it is... Diaper innards... Everywhere! I'm talking the little absorbent beads that suck up the pee. They're stuck to the wall, splattered on the window, ground into the carpet, and my personal favorite, dripping from the ceiling.

My husband comes in when I start yelling. I tell him what they are and watch the horror creep across his face. He shudders and says "good luck with that." And then he leaves.

Just another day in paradise!

-Ali

Creative Juices

I am always in awe of my children, but there are some days where the things they do and say have me scrapping my jaw off the floor. My three year old daughter, for example, has more creativity in her little finger than I do in my whole body. And more personality than a prime-time sitcom.

Yesterday my husband and I took the kids to the store to get them out of the house. This in itself is an ordeal. Before she makes the thirty foot trip from the front door to the truck, my little girl has to pick every single dandelion in the yard. Said dandelions must fit a certain criteria. The ones that haven't fully bloomed yet are deemed "mommy's." All the rest are bunched up in her left hand.

It is tradition, and it must happen for her to function. So just imagine her shock when she walks outside to find a freshly mowed yard and (brace yourself) no dandelions. Baby girl stops in her tracks, scans the yard again to make sure she saw things right, and bursts into tears.

"Daddy killed my flowers!" she screams. The man walking his dog turns to give me a knowing smile.

"It's okay, honey, they will grow back," I promise.

Another high pitched sob echoes down the street. "But I want those flowers!" The neighbor checking his mailbox stops to watch. "Where is the lawn eater? Get them out!" She is so devastated that the "lawn eater" has her weeds that I can't even get mad at the foot stomping.

It is time to think on my feet, because it is getting late, and if we don't get to the store, my husband insists he will wither away to nothing. I do a quick scan of the yard myself, and thank the good Lord, there is a small patch of yellow under the boat trailer. I wiggle myself underneath, trying to ignore the horror movie-like spiderwebs next to my left ear, and pick every last one.

I hand them over.

She gets in the truck like nothing ever happened.

Calgon take me away! And bring chocolate...

And Vodka...

-Ali

The Writer's Voice

Somehow, with a child on my lap and another tugging at my arm, I managed to squeeze myself into this awesome contest called "The Writer's Voice" at number 98. I'm quite literally scared out of my mind! Oh sure, I want others to meet my characters, but I feel a certain vulnerability in sharing my query letter. So it is with shaking hands that I post it here, along with my first 250 words.

Hooray for doing something bold today!

Query

     Being a third generation Enhanced, Clair Donahue's future has already been written. Thanks to genetics and the WTPC, she would turn eighteen and become a car mechanic like her mother. But after testing much too high for her parentage, Clair jumps at the chance to choose a career all her own. She knows rejection means placing her occupation in the hands of the World Technological Pharmaceutical Corporation.

      What she doesn’t know is how long they have been waiting for her to take that risk.

      Now that Clair’s dream of the medical profession has been refused, the WTPC reveal that she is to become a Harvester of Phenomenon, to rid their new world of supernatural fear. The serums used to Enhance one’s physical aspects needed in their specific fields have kept many from passing on after death, creating a fortified soul capable of entering the human body and erasing the person inside.

      And now it is Clair‘s job to collect them.

      Flanked by her deadly smart boyfriend, Evan, and her ever-present best friend, Matt, Clair has two weeks to choose between facing her future head on, or leaving everything she has ever known behind her. Staying means being internally assaulted by the Phenomenon; running means sacrificing what is left of her family and her freedom.

 

 

 

 

First 250

The voice of the news anchor droned on in the living room as we waited. Superior hearing aside, I couldn’t make out his words over the pounding of my heart. Each minute felt like its own hour as I stared at the inoffensive white envelope resting against my untouched water glass.

            “Clair,” my mother soothed in her melodic voice. I had forgotten there were other people in the world, let alone the stuffy little kitchen. “It doesn’t matter what it says.” Her emerald green eyes held the same certainty as her words, but they did nothing to calm me. It did matter.

            “That’s right, silly girl,” Matt grinned, his rumbling baritone filling the room. “It’s not like this is the deciding factor for the rest of your life or anything.” My mother shook her head as I let a nervous chuckle slip.

            “Gee, thanks, best friend,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster, placing both hands over my heart to keep it from busting through my chest.

            Matt peered over his habitually worn sunglasses, his dark eyes alive and penetrating. "That thing has been sitting there for a week. Staring at it won't change what it says."

            I let his truth sink in for a moment, cursing myself for the thousandth time for being foolish enough to request a career outside of my bloodline, no matter how badly I wanted it. No matter the fact I had been instructed to do so by each of my professors, hearing them say over and over how my intellect was rare for my parentage.

Best of luck to those who entered!

-Ali

A little alone time...

In my house, the hope of privacy is so long gone that it's comical. I can't remember the last time I took a shower without a baby monitor or a toddler checking to see what I was doing. And potty time? Let's just say even a locked door can't keep my little ones (or my husband) at bay for very long.

That being said, my writing time usually consists of me juggling a child or two on my lap while they juggle a bowl of cereal and a cuppy. I'm getting rather good at typing with one hand, and even better rushing pages out in the twenty or so minutes my kids are distracted by the television. Right now, my little girl is lounging across me, holding her mouth open so I can feed her cereal, even though she is fully capable of doing this herself. And since I am Mommy, that is exactly what I am doing.

And I don't mind one bit, because childhood is fleeting. Next thing I know, my babies will be teenagers, and these precious moments will be nothing but fond memories. Maybe it will be easier to finish a book with a quiet house and an empty lap, but I am more than wiling to wait fifteen years to find out!

Enjoy those little moments!

-Ali

Managing the Madness

It may come as a shock to some people, but I am only human. I say this because most people know me as the "smiley girl who works midnights at Wawa, who then goes home to a houseful of children." I absolutely love my kids, and I truly enjoy my job, but there are times that tubbies and meals and peek-a-boo and hide and seek and dress up and laundry and dishes and vacuuming and mopping and cutting the grass and making coffee and scrubbing the deli at work and walking the dogs and keeping that smile on my face all while trying to keep up my marriage and writing a novel really gets to me. I mean, a girl can only run so far on a pot of coffee.

I write this because it feels good to admit weakness sometimes. It's almost therapeutic. So here is me, lying on the ground with life laying across my chest, tapping out. I am down for the count, at least for today. But tomorrow? Who knows!

I hope good ol' life gives you a break today!

-Ali

NaNoWriMo

Yes, it is that crazy time of year once again where writers all over the world try to write an entire novel in just thirty days. Am I going to participate? Absolutely. Am I going to finish my novel in thirty days?

Ha! (picture me rolling on the floor in a fit of hysteria.)

I think the main goal of this exercise is to stretch yourself as a writer, commit more time to actually getting work done. Now this is something I can handle. So happy writing to all who are participating, and good luck to all the agent who will be bombarded next month!

Back to work!
-Ali

My friend, the delete button...

I can't tell you how many times I've heard- or read- people say that you need to write whatever comes into you head, no matter how bad it is. Regardless of the fact you know you will never use any of it. And I, being the good little "follower" I am, listen. I write whatever crappy idea happens to pop up. That is why no one could ever read my first drafts. I jump from the end, to the middle, the the middle-end, back to the beginning, and so on and so on... Riddled with holes, my pages read more like Swiss cheese.

And stink like Gouda.

The real magic is going through and finding those little jewels hidden in the mud. I think every author has that moment when they re-read their work and think "I wrote that? Really?" Personally, I love it when that happens. It makes it that much easier to sit back down and try to do it better.

My point is, nothing in this life is easy. It all takes time and patience and practice. That, and a heck of a lot of good luck. And now, I'm off to add some more awful ideas to my painfully terrible WIP.

Hooray for progress!

-Ali