Witches are Women, too

Friday the 13th, perhaps more than any other day of the year, makes me think of my mother.

It's a strange sort of association, and not one she intentionally worked to create. In fact, I think she'd be surprised to learn that every single time the 13th of the month falls on a Friday, I hear her voice singing, "Happy Women are Powerful Day, darling girls!"

I'd be willing to be this occurrence was unique to my house. This is the sort of story that I think captures the essence of my mother.

We didn't always go around calling Friday the 13th Women are Powerful Day. In fact, we probably didn't call it anything at all until I was in elementary school and capable of bringing home scary ideas like viruses. One day, I came home with Friday the 13th in tow - there was one on the horizon and I'd learned they were dire things. I remember explaining to my concerned mother that there was a list of things we needed to avoid: black cats (and we had three!), ladders, the color red, and umbrellas. When she asked me why we needed to be so careful on the 13th, my answer was obviously, "Because of the WITCHES."

"And what," she asked, "do witches do?"

"BAD THINGS." I was horrified that she, a grown adult, was clueless.

Since this was also the time in my life when I discovered a love for books by R. L. Stein and Christopher Pike, I'm sure she was already looking for signs of trouble. I know this to be true because whenever I picked up one of their books, my mother transformed into hag from 'The Princess Bride' and shouted, "Boo! Boo! Booooo!" She'd continue until she ran out of breath, at which point, we'd enter negotiations, which usually ended up with "If you get two MORE books and read them BOTH before that one, then you may get it." 

(Man, I miss that sort of negotiation.)

So! What this meant was that mom was tuned into things like useless fear and degradation of women (yes, witches are women, too). She wasn't going to stand for my blaming all the bad luck of Friday the 13th on a group of women, so she reclaimed it. 

"Natalie," she said. "I'll tell you a secret. Many people are afraid of witches because they were powerful women. Just like you. So, you don't have to be afraid of Friday the 13th. It's not actually bad luck. Not for us. It's our day because we are powerful women."

Well, you can bet I went right out to convert my friends over to this way of thinking (an unsuccessful campaign). I also started looking forward to the 13th because I thought, surely, on one of those days, my magical ability would present itself (still waiting...).

So, Happy Friday 13th, everyone. Live it up. I hope you go out and cross the path of a black cat, walk beneath a ladder, and that you're wearing red. 

I don't do memes...except this one

Not long ago, I was tagged by Ruth Lauren Steven (who, by the way, is running a very, very interesting contest on her blog for writers - one that involves agents and queries and pages - go here for all the details) in the Lucky 7 meme. But I was busy and didn't post, and a short time later, was tagged again by Myra McEntire. I'm not usually one for memes. In fact, I never post them because they invariably take me back to grade school and the excruciating pain of hand-written chain letters. However, I've enjoyed seeing this one on the blogs of friends and fellow writers, so I'm dipping into the meme world for just a second to play along.

If you’re tagged, you have to do the following:

1. Go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript 
2. Go to line 7 
3. Copy down the next seven lines/sentences as they are – no cheating 
4. Tag 7 other authors (I've reserved the right to edit. If you want to post, consider yourselves tagged by virtue of stopping by to read my blog.) 

I have two works in progress at the moment, so I asked Twitter to help me decide between options 1 (click) and 2 (click) and they picked the first. The following drafty excerpt is from page 7 of the wip I'm calling WATER for now:

Half a mile below, miles of dusty karst-invested hills swept past. Perfect territory for finding hidden pockets of water in one of the many cave systems, but every last one I passed was as dry as the sky above. I didn’t need the constant reporting of the ship’s radars to know it. The only water I sensed was pumping through the veins of the ship. With the sun already past its zenith, I was looking at yet another night in some cracking valley with who knows what for dinner and a dwindling ration of water. 


I’d already been away from camp for five days. I carried enough drinking water for ten, twelve if I pushed it and was careful. 

/end Lucky 7 meme

Thank you for reading. To show my appreciation, I'm going to save your life. BOOM. You're welcome

So, come here often?

A few days ago, I was out for a run with my dog, Grendel (so named for his monstrous seven-toed feet). I've lived in my neighborhood for nearly six years and in that time, I've run my three-mile path hundreds of times. I feel good on this path. I recognize the other joggers and walkers, I know which dogs Grendel does and doesn't like and cross the street if needed - it's my path. But on this day, something totally unexpected happened.

Not zombies, though I understand why it would be your first, rational guess.

It was later in the afternoon, so the main street was busy. I passed a man who was walking in the opposite direction, but I stopped just a few feet away because I'd reached the point at which I always cross the road. But there was traffic and as I waited I heard, "Hey, what kind of dog is that? That's a good looking dog."

I turned to see that this man had stopped and was walking back toward me. He was not looking at my dog.

Three things I should have said?

1. DEADLY.
2. Oh, he's just a pit bull/rottweiler/german shepherd mix, but his mama was a dire wolf.
3. This, right here? Best argument for earbuds I've ever heard.

But instead, I said, "Just a mix."


I thought that was it because I was clearly exercising and ready to cross the road, but he had a follow-up question. Get ready to marvel at how smooth he was...

With a vague gesture, "Hey, I just moved in over there. What's your address?"

Three things I should have said?

1. How about directions? Second star to the right and straight on til morning.
2. I think you'll have better luck with the lottery.
3. 555...

But instead, I said, "Oh...somewhere..." 

I know. Marvel at my smoothness. This terribly clever remark was combined with vague hand twirling in the air above my head, which I'm sure was intimidating in some way. BUT this was also about the time I was sizing him up and deciding I could out run him if it came to that. I may have also started to imagine he was in the early stages of zombie-infection...

Traffic, thankfully, paused just enough that I could dart across the street and put several tons of fast moving steel between us.

Oh, but that wasn't enough of a deterrent for the bold street stalker! As I began to jog away, he yelled, "What was that? What was that?"

Three things I should have said?

1. All the answer you're gonna get!
2. Evasive maneuvers. I'm sure you've seen them before.
3. THIS IS WHY I NEED A SWORD.

But instead, my wit failed me, yet again. I shouted, "See ya!" And ran away.

Of course, this whole time, Grendel was standing idly by, pondering clouds and bugs alike. At least he's cute.

How Zombies Will Save the World

You may be aware of the fact that I find zombies to be utterly, engrossingly terrifying. It's fair to say that I think about them at least once a day. Not only because Socrates stands guard on my desk, but because my imagination simply will not let fantastical creatures be. To the piece of my brain that processes fear, zombies are something I should fear approximately 17 times a day. 

There's a reason I can't run outdoors with music on, and it isn't because I'm afraid of being hit by a car or that I've watched way too many episodes of Criminal Minds or even that I've watched those episodes 5 or 6 times a piece (don't judge). It's because I need to be able to hear the zombies when they come up behind me. This isn't true for treadmill running. Because if a zombie sneaks up on me on my treadmill, then they deserve my brain. 

What I'm getting at is that my brain is powerful. For the sake of argument, let's just say there's no rational reason I should be afraid of zombies. Let's just pretend for a moment that I wasn't actually in danger of having to outrun the horde anytime soon. In the absence of Real Danger, my mind has done a fantastic job of believing in something that doesn't exist. So well, that probably 80% of my physical fitness is a direct result of that fear. 

You think I kid? 

There's only one other thing that could possibly motivate me to hang from my pull-up bar or hold plank pose for longer than the 5 seconds it takes for me to remember how HARD those things are, and that's cookie dough (or possibly Damon's eyebrows).

(I deny your accusation of gratuitous Salvator Brows).

I used to think I was alone in this strange reality of Zombie! Terror! But it turns out, I'm not. 

There's a professor at Michigan State University teaching a course called, "Surviving the Coming Zombie Apocalypse - Catastrophes and Human Behavior." The full story is behind that link (sent to me by my little brother), but basically, this prof is using zombies to make social science immediately intriguing to students. It's a perfect blending of imagination and scholarly pursuit! 

Another recent exercise of Zombie! Terror! as motivation is the Zombies, Run! game, which is basically like a real life video game. I suspect that the majority of people playing the game won't actually experience the sort of terror I do even without the aid of an app, but that doesn't negate the power this has to change someone's reality. 

Both of these are tapping into the idea of the Zombie to change the world in a positive way. I find that to be pretty amazing. So. Imagination is powerful stuff. It can make the mundane exciting and turn every single day into an adventure, which is pretty much what I've been trying to do my entire life.

When does your adventure start?

The second you imagine it.

What happens at retreat...

...ends up in one of Jackson's videos. This is something of a cautionary tale.



As you may have deduced, this was the retreat at which I learned I love to chop firewood, some houses really are like little countries, and nothing delights like Carrie Ryan story time.

Busy weeks are for links...

...and I have two.

Link, the first!

If you'd like a few more details on how I found representation, fellow Greenhouser Ruth L. Steven is running a "How I Got My Agent" series on her blog. My story went up last week. You can find it here.

Link, the second!

Lori M. Lee is having a blogaversary contest. It's major. There are tons upon tons of prizes and I've contributed a crit. Go here for details. 

I promise a post of more substance in the future. Just as soon as I recover from revision brain and paint my nails again.

Happy Mardi Gras!

So, I'm Revising

There's nothing quite like revision to make me wish the world and all of my daily responsibilities would quiet down for a while. It's not possible and perhaps it's not ideal (I've always responded well to a fair bit of pressure), but it means I become rather limited as human beings go. My answer to everything is, "I need to be writing," because every time I disentangle my mind, even a little bit, from the twisted vines of my manuscript, I have to fight to find my place again.

This means I've started doing things that are entirely unlike me. I've dropped bowls of dog food all over the floor. I've stopped organizing my bills. I've privileged getting home faster over stopping for essentials like milk, eggs, or vegetables.

I've stopped painting my nails.

This is serious stuff. Anything that doesn't appear immediately useful to my revision process gets tossed if possible. But there are some things that do help my revision process and yesterday contained so many that I'm taking this moment to share them with you.

First! The Shearwater album, Animal Joy was released, which meant it was on my iPod nearly as soon as I woke up because someone who loves me very much preordered it for me. I've only recently discovered this band via NPR, but oh, how I love them. The album was on repeat nearly all of yesterday. Here are two tracks for you to sample:

ANIMAL LIFE  

BREAKING THE YEARLING  

Very soon after receiving this musical delight, I visited my local coffee haunt and was treated to this peach of a latte (a-ha ha ha) by our regular barista. He says he didn't do it on purpose, but I prefer to think he's just this talented.

And finally, a little bit later in the day I got something I've been anticipating for weeks and weeks, which will make my hours of staring at the screen much more comfortable...

 And with that, away I go, back to work so I can get back to work.