_     I've decided I need a dry erase board in the shower. I have some of my best ideas in there. What is it about the shower? Is it the water or the shower itself?
    I've got a great shower room, area, whatever you want to call it. My completely fabulous DIY husband took out our super small plastic shower cell as well as the plastic bath tub and replaced them with an enlarged shower area complete with floor to ceiling travertine and two shower heads. Oh yes. Be jealous! Two shower heads people! It's a beautiful thing.
    So the atmosphere is indeed conducive to allowing one's mind to wonder, but truth be told, I had some great ideas in my old shower too. That brings me back to the water although I'm not sold on that theory either.
    I've lounged on sun-soaked beaches with my toes dangling in the water yet my ideas then were never as good as the ones in the shower. Okay, maybe the adult beverage of choice had something to do with that, but the fact still remains that my best ideas have come while I'm in the shower.
    I'll go a step further and say that I have clarity of thought while I'm in the shower. I can completely make sense of my plans for the day, week, and even month while I'm in the shower. But the moment I step out, I'm blank. Why? Why, why, why?
    I don't know that I'll ever get the answer to that question, so I must move on to the next best thing which is to put up a dry erase board in my beautiful shower. I wonder if the super-DIY-husband can make it blend with a frame or something. It's either that or some kids bathroom markers. It'll be just my luck that the water will deflect and spray off one of my incredibly fabulous ideas, but even then, I'm ahead because at least I'll still have some notes scribbled across my shower. Then I can quickly dry off, pick up my notebook, and transfer my shower notes to a more permanent locale. Hmm, I may be onto something and I wasn't even in the shower.

_List-making is an attempt to organize chaos. I've always said I live in organized chaos, but even then I use that term loosely. I am not an organized person. To me, an organized person knows where the hidden things are. An organized person will remember there's a pack of frozen peas in the freezer. I need to see that package of peas every time I look into the freezer lest I forget it's there. In my closet, if I don't see my clothes hanging in front of me, I'm very likely to forget I have a particular garment until something triggers a memory or I find myself in need of soemthing similar and remember that I actually have that item.

Lists are for the compulsive or for inflicting pain on oneself. Why remind yourself of the things you aren't going to have time to get to? That's such a downer. I've tried the list route. I end up writing lists on top of lists or I continue adding to my list until the items left to do are three pages apart and I need to move items to a fresh list which brings me to the moment that I feel like I am spending more time staying organized than actually doing the things that need to get done. All this list-making builds and stacks on itself (quite literally) until there's an explosion and list after list floats down around me on the currents of chaos.

Rather than fretting about lost or unorganized lists, I just start over with a fresh list of things that need to be finished. I am well aware that some items may be dropped and never returned to the list, but I figure that is the universe's way of letting me know that a little bit of chaos is a good thing.

_    Laundry piles up, dishes go unwashed, dust collects on the picture frames, toilets need scrubbing, etc. A domestic goddess I am not, but I have a hard time moving into my creative place when all these things are out of sorts. One or two, even three messy items if they are well hidden, is all right. I can handle small doses of chaos.
    “Set yourself a schedule,” you may suggest. That seems like the best answer, doesn't it? Here's part of the problem. Schedules are very hard for me to keep. I don't mean forgetting a hair appointment or even a dental appointment. I mean an hour to hour type of schedule. A time management type of deal. When I finally get focused, I don't want to stop to fix a meal or let the kids out of their cages.
    Although I'm not one to wait for inspiration, a quiet mind is essential for me to easily enter my mental creative place, and that's a rare occasion. I usually have to work my way into creativity - butt in chair, etc. and when my entire world is tilted, I can't get my special door open. I can write and write and write and the rest of my world falls into disarray. Then it hits. The spheres of domestic chaos converge and I can't move back and forth between my creative plane and my everyday life; it becomes easy for me to get side-tracked and lose focus on the task at hand.
    At that point, I can't focus on the writing. I spend the next number of days doing the laundry which of course turns into needing to purge and organize shelves either in the laundry room or in a closet. Dirty dishes expose the need to wipe out cabinets and drawers. Or a quick dusting job throughout the house turns into washing floor boards and corners. Although for some reason, I don't feel the need to scrub any more than absolutely necessary on the toilets.
    But once things are clean again or “airy” as that is how it feels, I can take a deep breath and begin working on characters, plot, scene development, etc. I wish I were the type of person who could do a little each day and therefore be able to almost continuously work on my writing, but I guess that's not in my personality. So the best thing I can do at this point, is embrace my faults and somehow turn them into positives. Of course, the problem is putting that theory into action.

    I followed my dear friend Ash Robbins (www.wckedwords.com) to Fen Con this year. I only attended from late Saturday morning through that evening because of prior commitments. Honestly, the big draw for me was the opportunity to experience dressing up in a thrown together steampunkish costume for the big party and get a feel for what is steampunk. I've never written anything remotely steampunk although I've enjoyed what I've since learned are steampunk classics. Being a fan-based conference, I thought it would just be a kick to check it out, observe, and leave, but OH MY GOD AGNES, now I wish I had planned to stay for the entire program.
    From a monetary angle, I wouldn't know where to start in beginning to explain what the pay-off would be for the amount of money invested. I paid $40 for access to the entire weekend's events. $40 people. Fen Con (www.fencon.org) is a totally fan-based event yet there were writer specific panels. The authors who came to Fen Con, and some were NYT best-selling ones (Gail Carriger – www.gailcarriger.com), did readings (Rachel Caine - www.rachelcaine.com, Rosemary Clement-Moore - www.rosemaryclementmoore.com), sat on panels (Phillippa Ballentine – www.pjballantine.com, Tee Morris - www.teemorris.com), general hanging out (O.M. Grey - www.omgrey.wordpress.com, author Teresa Patterson, and fan Beth Case - www.bethcase.com) walked amongst the fans (all of those listed) - all the normal stuff you'd expect, AND they were approachable - they hung around and talked to people. I can't begin to tell you how valuable that time was. I honestly feel I gleaned as much information at this fan-based event as I have ever gathered from a writer's group event. I must say the absolute highlight was being asked by Tee Morris and Pip Ballantine to sit in on their podcast (www.theshareddesk.com) which was recorded live that Saturday night.
    Please don't think I'm bashing writer's groups events. I'm not. A fan-based conference is probably not going to bring in big name agents and editors and that's part of why the cost is significantly less. There is crucial information to be learned and networking to be done with these agents and editors, but from a monetary, personal, and even profession angle, I met more approachable authors who were more than happy to impart their wisdom. I met more genuinely enthusiastic fans who knew exactly what they did and didn't like about books and genres, than I have ever met at any other conference. It was an enlightening day. Never underestimate the power of the fan based con, especially Fen Con.

A few days ago, a friend told me that I didn't like being outdoors, that I wasn't an outdoor kind of person. Really? Hmm. I had no idea that I didn't like life outside of my house. I've always thought I was an outdoor kind of person. So of course I defended myself with, “What do you mean by that? I love doing outdoor things.”

My husband jumped in with, “No you don't. Even the kids talk about how you don't want to go outside and ride bikes with them.”

“In the two years I've lived here,” my friend said, “I've never seen you outside doing things.”

I have to go outside to tend a vegetable garden and an herb garden. Of course I don't have a veg garden this year, but I have had one every other past summer. I have to go outside to play with the dogs, or shear off their coats, or clean the fish pond. And I love, love, love sitting on my patio and writing – especially when it's raining. So what's with this 'lack of outdoors' accusation? Granted, it's more difficult doing these outdoorsy things when you have to move around on crutches or on a scooter (broken foot), but still.

I mulled on this. I chewed on this. Then I spat it out. It's because I don't enjoy the same outdoor activities they enjoy. For example, they like to go on the boat and ski or tube or fish. I like to go on the boat and read or swim. I also prefer personal watercraft to skiing or tubing. Do we have those? No. But we do have a boat and skies and a tube. Oh and of course we have fishing gear. The husband, kids, and neighbors like riding bicycles. I prefer off-road motorcycles. Which do we have? Bicycles. They all enjoy tent camping, I like cabins. See a pattern developing?

It's not that I don't enjoy the outdoors, I don't enjoy the same outdoor activities they want to do, therefore I don't like being outdoors. When I was riding and training horses, I was constantly scrambling to get caught up on the daily grind so I could get back outside to the horses. Below freezing temps? I was out there. Sweltering heat of the middle summer? I was out there. I loved being around the horses - either working with them or cleaning around the barn or hacking away at building trails.

This brings me to another emerging pattern (if you've been keeping up with my blogs). Perspective and perception. Their perspective of outdoor activities was different from mine. As a result of their perspective, their perception of me was 180 degrees off from my perception of myself. This begs the question, who is right? I may be on hiatus from the world of horses, but does that mean I'm suddenly not an outdoor person?

As far as I'm concerned, my perspective is the right one. After all, it was my label that was under discussion. Who knows me better than I do? But then that may be short-sighted, which is exactly what I'm accusing them of being. Perspective and perception are ultimately personal and subjective ideas. Can both sides be right?

When worlds collide, or at least opinions, it can cause some interesting fallout and hopefully healthy debate. When those polar opposites meet on the home front, some serious tension can be created. I had no idea that my support system had a hole in it. After all, two of my works-in-progress have controversy potential. Not that I'm looking for a fight. It just so happens that the subject matter at the heart of my stories, stories that I need to tell, is in and of itself, controversial.

“What hell are you talking about, Machelle?”

I am referencing nothing less than censorship, the evil of all evils. I had just read the article in the Wall Street Journal about how dark YA has become, about how we need to paint the world in rays of sunshine and rainbows and butterflies for our kids, how we need to ban these “step by step, how-to destroy yourself” manuals we call kid lit. I was ranting and raving through the house about it. I was steaming mad at the total and complete ludicrousness, the unbelievable short-sightedness, the stick a needle in my eye stupidity of saying that YA literature today is too dark. You know what? Sometimes you have to explore the dark in order to find the light. But I'm getting off topic here.

I've read a lot of the “ban list” books. Laurie Halsey Anderson's SPEAK and Cheryl Rainfield's SCARS are two of my faves. Would I let my kids read them? Of course - once they are older. My kids can read well enough to understand the language, but they are too young to fully appreciate and process the subject matter. They know what the subjects are. They understand the mechanics involved. They can't completely comprehend the emotional impact. Really. They aren't even tweeners - they're pre-tweeners. But I guarantee you, when they are old enough to grasp the emotional intricacies of these books, you better believe I'll be there holding their hands and handing them these books. But again, I digress.

My husband disagrees with my stand. Usually I'm fine with him taking another view point. This isn't one of those times. Again, I can't even begin to understand why some people believe that they have the right to decide what my kids can and cannot read. “But he's their parent too.” Yes, yes I get that. But the problem is, he sides with the premise that books about the ugly side of life have no business being in a library, especially a school library. Did I mention we homeschool?

To be fair, because I don't want anyone husband hating, we haven't discussed it further because I can't seem to talk to him about this subject without getting so wound up I stumble over myself. Maybe this essay is part of my therapy.

It's an understatement to say I am extremely passionate about no censorship. Youth today face a seemingly never-ending supply of crap to deal with. They need access to everything that can help them deal with issues. I thought I faced a tough road, but life appears more difficult today. Or is it? Let's step back a moment. Between my friends and I, we faced all the obstacles that face kids today – bullies, divorce, death, drugs, rape, incest, etc. I'm sure all of us have experienced some of these, at least to some degree, if we really look back at things. So what's different? Awareness and exposure. And that's both good and bad.

What should I use for an example? Since I've touted SPEAK, how about rape and/or incest for good measure. Rape and incest have been around since the beginnings of human beings. So why was SPEAK controversial? Is it controversial because it makes us face something horrid? Wouldn't it be nice if we could employ an “out of sight out of mind” mentality. Denial. If we don't admit to it then it never happened. You know what? Rape and incest are nasty. They aren't pleasant to look at. They aren't pleasant to talk about. They are uncomfortable as hell to deal with. But. And it's a BIG but. But talking about things helps us to deal with the repercussions and work through the fall-out.

If you were raped, would it make you feel a little less dirty, a little less ashamed, to know that someone else experienced those same feelings? Even if that story were a fictional one, would it make you feel a little better about yourself? Or would that story be a “How-to” manual in the art of being raped? What? A ridiculous analogy? I don't think so. It's no more a ridiculous analogy than the accusations thrown at today's YA lit in general.

Again, I've veered off course. Sort of. The bottom line is this. As adults, we tend to look back at our childhood through a differently colored lens. I guarantee you, if we could truly access the feelings we had then, we would realize that life wasn't really as peaches and cream as we'd like to remember. I'm not saying that all of us are repressing memories of torture. I'm saying it is more difficult to remember the full impact of the bad times. It's a much more accurate memory when we remember the good times. I believe that's why it's easy for us to say times are harder now for kids.

One of the bonuses of the present time is the availability of literature that these kids can relate to. Hell, I dare say that all of us can relate to, regardless of the age of the protagonist. And this is what brings us back around to censorship. Why, why, why, would anyone wish less assistance to those who are experiencing any hardship? If a kid wants to learn how to do something, they don't need to pilfer through a novel to learn how to rape someone or how to cut themselves without being found out. There are much easier ways to get that information. The only thing censorship does is cordon off avenues of help, assistance,and acceptance.

So yes, I agree with my husband that our almost tween and under kids don't need to read a SPEAK or a SCARS at their age. But don't you dare deny my kids or anyone else's the opportunity to access these learning tools, these chances to learn they are not alone, these avenues to a path of healing.

I've been thinking about my blog. Do I write only writing things? Do I keep it impersonal – professional stuff only? I read blogging do's and don'ts until my eyes crossed. I don't want this to become a “mommy rant” or a “wife rant” or any kind of “rant”, although I seem to be ranting right now. I don't want to keep a journal of my writing ups and downs. Does anyone really care that I squeezed in some writing between two and three in the morning or loads of laundry or teaching my kids geometry and world history?

I'm not good with writing about how to write. I don't want to lift others suggestions even if I give them credit. I feel fake doing that. Maybe someday I can write those things, but not here, not now. Since I'm a writer, not writing about writing rather limits my choices. Then I came across Natalie Whipple's entry on her blog, “The Truth About Blogging”. The universe has spoken. My questions have been answered. http://betweenfactandfiction.blogspot.com/2011/04/truth-about-blogging.html

So here I am, feeling fake, but this one time I'm all right with it. Thank you Natalie. I now have the courage to share bits of me. If I do my job right, sometimes you will laugh, sometimes you will cry, sometimes you will ponder, but I hope you will always be satisfied.

It doesn't qualify as an epiphany, but it was a definite eye-opener. Not an answer moment though it certainly was an awareness moment. My writing has been pushed aside while I work on my websites, one website for my writing and one website for my Spanish Water Dogs. I don't have much for my writing website which frustrates me. Everything for my dog website came easily. That's partly because I've been showing and breeding these guys off and on for about seven years, so I have a lot to draw from. There are pictures galore and of course tons of stories from living with these beautiful creatures.

I've even started a blog on my dog website. I posted three entries in the course of two weeks. That may not seem like a lot, but those entries were written on the fly while editing photos and videos and learning the video editing software. Why, why, why do ideas concerning the dogs come so much easier to me than things for my writing website? I have a theory. A scientifically based theory. Sort of. Here it is:

The dog's website, in and of itself, was much easier simply because I already had a history with my dogs. I had a history cataloged in photographs, videos, ribbons, and trophies. The most difficulty came from narrowing down which photos to use. I could write pages about each photograph because each of them flooded me with memories.

But I don't have memories or photos detailing my writing history. There really isn't a history. Or is there? What about funny anecdotes from my critique group? What about the frustrations or the excitements of trying to write every day? Part of the problem is I can't imagine anyone being interested in my mundane musings over the daily grind of a no-name writer. Confidence much? Plus anyone reading my writer's blog would tear it apart grammatically as well as editorially. Right? Again, confidence much?

As I stated earlier, I also started a blog on my dog's website. I must have gotten a wild hair or a momentary lapse of reason or something. Seriously. I can't even keep up with the blog on my writing website. So why do I post to my dog's blog at a comparative warp speed to how quickly I post on my writer's blog? It's the ease of familiarity. The comfort of knowledge. Wow. What a difference that makes.

Where does that leave me? It leaves me pulling on my big girl panties and facing my fears. And that right there should give me fodder for at least a hundred posts.

I'm really torn between rewriting my “finished” novel or starting on one of my new ideas. I've plotted out a couple of new stories. I visualize spending hour upon hour typing away. I am having a personal na-no-wri-mo, a per-no-wri-mo if you will. Yep, a goal of two thousand words per day. Luckily we're past the measly 28 days of February. Otherwise I'd have to ramp up to twenty-two or twenty-five hundred a day. And that's just too hard to do. Right? Right? Give me an amen! Or not. I know, it boils down to how badly do I want it.

This ponderous position derives from my writing research and binge reading. Binge reading. Is that considered a syndrome or a personality disorder? Or worse – an addiction? Either way, it's what I've been doing, so label me what you will. After all, labels make the world go round.

Starting a new project also gets you excited. Simmer down – not that kind of excited. In a way, it renews your faith in the process. You also allow yourself to see the world from a different perspective. Sometimes it's a fresh perspective, sometimes it's an old and haggard perspective. Even a tired perspective is interesting when viewed through the eyes of your character.

The plus side to revision is that I now understand what I need to do to make this WIP the best I possibly can. Which, by the way, changes about twice a year as I receive new/better input/information from the world around me. So at what point will I truly have it in its peak form? I guess that's one of the questions of the universe. My universe at least.

Working on revisions still keeps me within the framework of the per-no-wri-mo. In fact, I'll revise my new goal and label it rev-no-wri-mo. Obviously my word count goal will need to be adjusted, but that's no big. Maybe hours per day or pages per day is better than words per day. That's a tough one.

So which way to I go? Revise or new? I think I'll flip a coin.

    I am a fangirl at heart. My heart races. My adrenaline soars. I love that feeling. It's a basic physiological response that can be summed up in that I feel like I'm thirteen years old again and getting to see the latest teen heart-throb in person. That's how I was today - totally fumbling over myself, as if my crutches didn't make that an easy move anyway. I was talking too quickly, saying stupid things that made no sense to anyone but myself, explaining in detail about things that were irrelevant. I was embarrassed at how nervous I was. Here was my chance to rub elbows with my hoped-for peers and I was behaving like a bumbling idiot. Need I go on?
    “Wow Machelle, what gives? What made you all twitterpated?” you ask. Well, sit down and and let me tell you. Tera Lynn Childs (her latest book, the merlicious Forgive My Fins will be followed by the release of Sweet Venom this fall, http://www.teralynnchilds.com/), Tracy Deebs (her Tempest Rising debuted this past May! http://www.tracydeebs.com/), and Jennifer Archer (Her YA debut – by no means from a newbie author - Through Her Eyes http://www.jenniferarcher.net/) were at A Real Bookstore in The Village at Fairview (Allen, TX) for the CHILLS AND THRILLS TEEN BOOK SIGNING TOUR. As if that wasn't enough, Rosemary Clement-Moore (the brains behind journalist Maggie Quinn's adventures and the author of The Splendor Falls, http://www.rosemaryclementmoore.com/) was hanging around for good measure.
    I had missed Rachel Caine (author of Bite Club, part of the Morganville Vampires' fame, http://www.rachelcaine.com) both at A Real Bookstore and at The Smith Library in Wylie, TX. Geez! Can you believe it? Two different nights and I couldn't make either of them. It's all good. I'll catch Rachel on the flip side.
    To meet the Thrill and Chill authors was a thrill for me. Let me tell you, these ladies had to be tired, but they were beyond nice to me and the remaining stragglers. I arrived fifteen minutes after the signing officially ended (sometimes life puts little road bumps in your way), but I persevered. And I was rewarded. They were still signing, chatting, standing for pictures, and they were all smiles the entire time.
    Fangirl! Through and through! I have followed these ladies via social media for a long time. Now I can associate actual, touchable humans to the pictures on twitter, websites, and blogs. I was on a writer's high. Respect ladies, respect.