Wordless Wednesday: Baby Jedi

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NaNoWriMo procrastination!

All right, I've found a few things to keep me busy so I don't have to just, you know, write all the time.

I've put my NaNoWriMo word count badge on the sidebar, so you can keep track of my (lack of) progress. Another example is to the left in this post, though that one's not really working right. (Don't ask me to figure it out. I've procrastinated enough as it is.) Get yours on the Word Count Widgets page at NaNoWriMo.org.

I've also discovered a sweet Excel spreadsheet that calculates your word count for each day. Download the word count calculator at Hillary DePiano's site.

I'm also racking my brains, trying to decide how much to donate this year to keep NaNo running. Click over to the donations page and check out the sweet swag you get according to the level of your donation. Corin, operating as my Magic 8 Ball, randomly clicked on $250. That boy's generous! With that choice, I would get a link to my site on the Brought To You page, a rock-and-roll NaNoWriMo poster, and...a window cling "for your car (or most favorite home window)." But I'm worried that that will make all the other windows jealous and lead to tension in the home.

Well, there you are. Three ways you can avoid writing and yet still feel you're doing something NaNoWriMo-ish. That should keep you busy.

You're welcome.

In the throes of NaNoWriMo!

I can't believe I forgot to post this in advance, but:

NaNoWriMo is upon us!!!

I won last year, which I would link to, but apparently I didn't have this blog last year. Because I was too busy writing my first novel.

Oh, wait, this will do.

Ok...start writing! You're behind, but you can catch up. I started last year on Nov. 5 and still made it through, with literally hours to spare.

Wordless Wednesday: Low-res Halloween

My sixth-favorite costume from this Halloween is Low Resolution from kindacarsick.

First through fifth, naturally, belong to Corin, Corin, Corin, Corin, and Corin.

More Wordless Wednesday

Concerned citizens for raw umber

Having a 2-year-old means spending a lot of time with crayons. I forget now how I came to this info site about Crayola's version, but it was probably through one of the humor sites Steve's got me hooked on. (Let's blame Steve for everything, shall we?)

I learned so very much. For instance, there used to be a Prussian blue. Sounds fancy. I knew about flesh becoming peach, though I preferred apricot to represent my own dewy skintones. I always did love Indian red, and now it seems I love chestnut. I can live with that.

In 1990, eight colors were permanently retired: raw umber, maize, lemon yellow, blue gray, violet blue, orange red, orange yellow and green blue. Eh, fine, I say. Raw umber kind of sucked, maize was an ugly yellow, and the last four had alternate versions with the names switched around that were so similar it was hard to tell them apart. Now, I'm no big fan of the neon replacements that in 1990 were probably considered appealing, and I did enjoy me some blue gray (for coloring in West Point uniforms, natch), but all in all I can deal.

Not everyone took this change so well, though. These two sentences, offhandedly inserted into the middle of a paragraph, threw me:

"This was the first time Crayola retired colors completely and it drew some protest. In response RUMPS, the Raw Umber and Maize Preservation Society, was formed."

I have to hope that a group that would choose to name itself RUMPS wasn't taking itself too seriously, but I don't know.

Here's a New York Times article from 1991 on the retirement ruckus.

For a limited time, Crayola offered the eight retirees in a special, overpriced commemorative tin. (Those Binney & Smith folks is smart.) But that wasn't good enough for RUMPS.

"It's a limited victory," said Kenneth E. Lang, the founder of Rumps, the Raw Umber and Maize Preservation Society. Mr. Lang, from Locust Valley, L.I., said he felt cheated.

"Raw umber and maize represent a bygone time in America," he said. "You can't draw a picture of Nebraska or Kansas or South Dakota without using these colors."

Sally Thurston, a 43-year-old artist from Arden, Del., who sometimes sketches with crayons, said, "I just wish they would make their decision based on need for certain colors versus what will sell."

The retired colors are among the first colors a painter mixes.

"I think it would be important for kids interested in art to have those colors right away," Ms. Thurston said. "You don't find Day-Glo colors in any of the Old Masters' paintings."

A couple notes:

1. How many third-graders draw pictures of Nebraska?

2. If you're a 43-year-old artist, they have this little thing called art shops, where you can purchase the appropriate tools you need. You probably even have a driver's license to transport yourself there and a credit card with your name on it. No call to rough up a Kindergartener for her green and yellow box with the sharpener on the back.

3. Still, how interesting to think of wax crayons as being for artists. I never used crayons artistically. They were for coloring in or drawing simple outlines and shapes and figures. I didn't know anything about shading or mixing. I remember a c.group meeting where everyone was coloring their binder covers, and one person in the group out of all of us actually did shade and create gradients and art with her crayon choices. I'm curious now how many people use Crayola crayons artistically, and if it's something I should somehow, despite my lack of artistic training or talent, teach Corin.

4. I never used my sharpener. I never wanted to remove even a shred of paper, because then my crayons wouldn't be perfect. I also always put them back in the same spots. I was a little CDO. (That's OCD in proper alphabetical order.)

5. The Old Masters didn't know what they were missing. They also didn't have glow-in-the-dark stuff back then.

6. Cool. I especially like that one's titled Self-Portrait as a Foot Massager.

7. I was moved to the back of the class by an elementary-school teacher who optimistically thought I'd be a good(y-two-shoes) influence on the crowd who frequented those desks. My new wild friends taught me to eat crayons and Elmer's glue. I checked with my mom after the fact to confirm they weren't poisonous. "They're non-toxic," she told me. "They won't hurt you, but they aren't food." Good enough for me. Party in the back of the class, BYOC.

Muphry's Law and graciousness in copy editing

I came across Muphry's Law today, which states, in part:

(a) if you write anything criticizing editing or proofreading, there will be a fault of some kind in what you have written;
(b) if an author thanks you in a book for your editing or proofreading, there will be mistakes in the book;
(c) the stronger the sentiment expressed in (a) and (b), the greater the fault.

As a sometime copy editor, I've often fallen prey to, or been anxious about, some version of Muphry's Law. The more I argue a point about grammar or usage or spelling, the more likely it is that I'll have to eat my words. I chuckle along at TV shows or books, generally murder mysteries in which usage of the English language forms a clue, where nitpicky characters go out of their way to point out someone's errors, while making dozens of their own. I cringe at overly zealous real-life correctors, who point out every comma and apostrophe gone wrong. I know that even I, with my English degree and professional history, make plenty of stupid mistakes along the way. Unless the errors are persistent and egregious, I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. And if the errors are truly pervasive, I assume that the writer or speaker in question really doesn't know the English language all that well, and refrain from judging further. The people who irk me most are the pretentious types who would say "pretentious types whom would say" and then make other people feel bad for an isolated misspelling.

I wonder if, back when I would introduce myself as an editor, people guarded their language around me, the same way people get nervous in conversation with officers of the law or tax auditors, or eating around dietitians, or dressing up for a lunch meeting with a fashion consultant. I used to be kind of a jerk about correcting people, when I would actually correct conversational speech to people's faces — but this was back in junior high, when there was some liberty to be juvenile. I've reformed now, and I apologize if anyone reading this has been criticized by me, unasked for. That said, if you want some writing proofread or looked at with a new set of eyes, feel free to send it my way, gratis (within reason).

Here are some facts that copy editors may not want anyone to know:

(1) Just because a particular style guide says to do something a particular way doesn't mean it's "right," or the only way to do it.
(2) No one can memorize a style guide completely and follow it correctly every time (barring some Rain Man-like copy editor).
(3) Just because Mrs. Englishteacher back in third grade told you could never, never write something like that, or that you must always, always do so, doesn't make it so.
(4) There are different standards of correctness for different types of writing and speaking.
(5) Copy editors and grammar gurus don't all agree with one another.
(6) The content is more important than the wrapper.
(7) Everyone makes mistakes.

All right, bonus points for anyone who can find all the mistakes in this blog post.

(Just kidding. Don't be a douche.)

(Just kidding again.)

Photo copyright Rodolfo Clix via stock.xchng

Enjoy some pictures

In lieu of actual content, since I'm busy moving and auditing...

Make a Smilebox slideshow

P.S. Yea — we got the house! And yea – we have clean laundry!

Pillow talk

Not to go on and on about the laundry thing, but one thing I could never justify in a coin-op machine was fluffing my pillows in the dryer.

One of the first things I'm gonna do is fluff those suckers right on up.

Photo copyright Penny Mathews via stock.xchng

A vow of funk

All right, waiting on that washer/dryer has become sort of like a resolution now. If I haven't given in by this point and used the laundry room (and I haven't, since we're keeping score), I might as well keep my track record going.

We did get sad confirmation that our laundry service guy has quit the biz, by the way, so I have resorted to doing mini-refresher loads in the bathroom sink and then hanging them over the shower rack to dry. I did quite a number before my parents came to visit, because, you know, I didn't want them to suffer. But, hey, they're gone now, and the only people who will see (smell) us are (a) our friends (sorry, guys, but you're in this with us) and (b) all the loan people who have been holding up the process in the first place, so some of them kind of deserve it. That's not actually true, because it's really just the innocent escrow folks and our loyal and awesome agents who will see us next, but I'll pretend. I'm in this for the long haul, see, and if I give in now, maybe I'll be punished by not getting our condo after all.

If I say it's a vow, a dedication to waiting until we get those sacred keys in hand, then I've upgraded my smelliness from laziness, or stubbornness, to something holy.

Or maybe not.

Photo copyright Marjan Noback via stock.xchng

I have an Author Page on Author Central

I joined Author Central on Amazon and have a brand-spanking-new author page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002NCD2RQ

No, I didn't name it myself.

But if you visit, you get to see:

      1. My lovely mug
      2. A list of ALL my published books (some authors' lists go on to 2 or 3 pages — show-offs)
      3. My mini-bio (some authors' biographies are full of all the highfalutin awards they've won)
      4. The scintillating discussions in the Amanda Caldwell forum (some authors actually do have some discussion going...but not many, so I don't feel too bad)
      5. And theoretically also...I tried to link my RSS feed from this AmandaCaldwell.com blog to my profile, but I have to post something to see if it shows up.

To wit, this post.

Oh, the synergy!

Fat is a don't

I came across this nice article from Glamour magazine about "the woman on p. 194."

Basically, Glamour was doing an article "on feeling comfortable in your skin, and wanted a model who looked like she was."

The model in the photo they commissioned is plus-size model Lizzi Miller. Reader comments were raves:

"This beautiful woman has a real stomach and did I even see a few stretch marks? This is how my belly looks after giving birth to my two amazing kids! This photo made me want to shout from the rooftops."

The response was overwhelmingly positive, even by the editors:

So let's start off this week with something we can all get behind: a toast to the woman on p. 194, and to the spectacular sexiness of owning who you are. Trust me, Glamour's listening, and this only strengthens our commitment to celebrating all kinds of beauty.

Inspired, I started poking around on the site and remembered that, back in the days I used to subscribe (high school? college? something like that), I enjoyed the Dos and Don'ts feature, where they take clandestine photos on the street of looks both good and bad, obscuring the embarrassing fashion victims with black bars over their eyes.

Apparently, now you can upload your own surreptitious shots and rate and comment on others' contributions. Not sure which gallery to browse, I settled on "Worst Don'ts" and "Best Dos."

Let me offer you a couple screen shots of what I found:





Guess which is the do and which the don't. It's easy, folks — fat people shouldn't be allowed in public, and thin, young, pretty people are popular. I remember in the magazine version that the emphasis was on fashion faux pas, not just on what body shapes make people feel pukey or happy. There are a couple exceptions of making fun of specific features in the Don'ts, and there is a focus on skankiness, but...every single full-bodied shot is of someone who's overweight. There are women wearing very little fabric in the Dos, but that's allowed. Because, you know, fat people are gross. Gee, I'm so glad there are online galleries to point that out to me.

The more things change...

Photo copyright Walter Chin for Glamour magazine

A preview of my mystery novel

In writing news, I thought I'd bring you a very small sample of my mystery novel in progress, working title Poisoned, by God.

If you're playing along at home, I wrote the first draft during NaNoWriMo08, so last November. I finished the second draft this spring. Steve read it for the first time at that point and gave me lots of good critiques. I intended to spend July finishing the third draft, but alas, we decided to buy a house instead. Stupid, stupid. So after we move, I will finish the third (final?) draft, have Steve read it again, plus some other beta testers, then do another draft or a final polishing, depending on critiques. And then it's out to agents, with fingers and toes crossed for good news.

Do let me know if you want to be a beta reader of my novel. Helpful qualities include the ability to read critically and offer constructive advice about plotting, characterization, theme, and/or details like whether I changed someone's haircolor or name halfway through. Also helpful would be a familiarity with the genre of mystery novels, particularly cozies, a la Agatha Christie or similar; having seen movie versions qualifies, as long as you enjoyed them. I mean, you don't have to be an expert — or even conversant — in the cozy genre, as long as you're willing to accept that there are conventions that fit the form and ask for clarification if needed rather than just deriding the conventions out of hand. If you want to do some homework, here are some of my contemporary faves that are similar in various ways: Jo Dereske, Janet Evanovich, Gillian Roberts. If you try them and find you detest light-hearted mysteries, probably don't bother reading this one. Because another helpful quality is not making me cry by saying my novel is utter tripe. That said, I will gratefully accept any helpful criticisms. Ask Steve — I was entirely courteous and appreciative of his suggestions. Oh, and if you're worried you'll you have to slog through the mystery genre's answer to War and Peace, it's only about 220 pages and it reads fast, because there's lots of dialogue, not to mention all that good old "who's going to be killed next" suspense. Steve got through it in a day or so, with ample bathroom and eating breaks.

So, here's the sample page. To give the basic background: Christine is the praise team leader at a Midwestern church, and a member of her praise team is killed during practice by a poisoned cough drop. Hilarity ensues.

I don't know if it's bad form to give out samples of an unpublished manuscript, but I like to live dangerously. Besides, it's mostly just to show you that the characters are funny, with little plot to distract you. Steve's favorite character is Rob, Christine's husband. Guess why.

****

Rob called from work while I was looking up the name of the poison online.

“I’m bored,” he said. “Talk to me.”

“How can you be bored at work? Aren’t you doing work?”

“I’m waiting for a meeting to start. I already went to the bathroom and got some animal crackers from the vending machine. I’ve run out of ways to amuse myself.”

“I’m glad to know I’m your last hope.” I got up and walked to our little one-butt-wide kitchen. Animal crackers didn’t sound half-bad.

“I figured you might have something to amuse me with.”

“How do you know I wasn’t hard at work editing?”

A sound suspiciously like a snort came over the line.

“Well, you’re not exactly Mr. Productivity yourself today,” I said. No animal crackers in the junk cupboard. I settled on Doritos.

“What are you crunching?” Rob asked.

I told him. “They’re Nacho cheesier.”

“Good idea,” he said. I heard a faint jingling. “I have just enough change left. Do you mind if I spend a Nevada quarter?”

I thought over our collection. “No, we have Nevada. It’s New Mexico I’ve been looking for.”

I heard the clanging of coins into the machine as Rob went after his prize. In between our crunches, I broke the bad news.

“Tammy died,” I said. Rob could handle blunt.

“Oh, no,” he said. “That’s too bad.”

“There’s more,” I said. “She was murdered.”

“Murdered,” Rob echoed. “Well, that’s not amusing, but it’s certainly intriguing. I’ve never known a murder victim before.”

“You couldn’t even remember who she was, so I don’t know that you can say you knew this one, either.”

Rob gave a verbal shrug.

“She was poisoned,” I added. I could hear Rob literally chewing things over. “Don’t you want to know how I found out?”

“I assume Barb called you,” he said after a swallow.

“Don’t assume,” I chided. “Barb’s left me in the lurch. It was a detective.”

Rob gave a little choke on the other end. “From the actual police?” he said. “Are you a suspect?” He sounded much too enthusiastic about the idea.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think so. Or maybe we all are.”

“Did you ask for a lawyer?”

I gripped the handset tighter. “Should I have?”

“We don’t know any lawyers.”

“No, I know.”

“Murder.” Rob breathed out heavily.

“I know.” I hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else all day. How could someone have been murdered, and right in front of me, too?

“Well, I have to go,” Rob said, suddenly brisk. “Our meeting is starting.”

“Bummer for you,” I said, snapping back to the immediate. “See you later.”

Rob tossed off a “later” and disconnected. I tongued the last of the orange crud off my fingers and tried to ignore the lure of crime solving via Google and get some work done.

****

So there you are. Intrigued? Want to read more? Sign up now to read the next draft!

Photo copyright Anna H-G via sxc.hu