The Jaded Texan.

After spending my whole life here, I've grown pretty fond of my state. Even though I've travelled around a bit, there's no place I'd rather live (though Northern Ireland or Hawaii run a close second). Sure, us Texans get stereotyped. Some of those are valid. Others are annoying (lookin' atchu, Geico commercial).

Biologically, we're a diverse state with a whopping 12 ecoregions, in which there are many distinct sub-regions. You can go to the mountains, the beach, the forest(s), the hill country, or the desert--just not all in the same day. We've got lots of endemic species of plants and animals. Como se dice 'biologist's dream'?

I grew up in a really rural area, on a commercial cattle ranch. This past weekend a friend from the Dallas area came to visit and 'experience the country' (her words, not mine). I always feel like a hayseed whenever she's around. Hayseed may be my Granddad's vocabulary...

Country bumpkin, maybe?

Anyway, we loaded up in the truck and headed out, me thinking all the while how she was going to be bored stiff for the next three hours. Granted, she's a biology nerd too, but what can I show her that's 'country?'

A lot, apparently.

Seeing her joy at the landscape and wildlife made me realize (again) how freaking lucky I was to grow up where and how I did. Lucky that I could see something like this every day. My friend loved it all, and her enthusiasm was madly contagious. Not many people get to climb to the top of this...

Yucca aloifolia, more commonly known as Spanish Dagger. In some places
it's common to fry/cook and eat the blossoms. No idea as to the taste but,
until I get really hungry, I'll pass.

and see for miles, like this...

My dad found this several years ago, while he was riding horseback and
looking for some missing cattle. This picture doesn't even
come close to doing it justice.

Or quite literally stumble upon natural wonders like this.

I believe this is some kind of Ferocactus, but maybe it's Echinocactus texensis.
  (If that's the case, the common name is Horse Crippler...pretty flowers, serious name.)

Or get pictures like this, which, even though I'm not much into plant biology, are beautiful to me.

I'm not sure what kind of flower this is, but I've got a date with a botanist later this
week to find out. I've never seen this before.

 



What good would pictures of Texas wildflowers be without some bluebonnets?
Hello, Lupinus texensis, good to seeya. 

Reminders to stop and smell the flowers are always a good thing.

As always, if you like the pictures, please feel free to share them--linkage back to this blog much appreciated!

Currently listening to Nottingham Burns--Marc Streitenfeld

In which I have nothing to say, but pictures to share.

I'm in the throws of despair from constant thesis work, so I thought I'd cheer myself up.

Is there anything more cheerful than puppy pictures?

Yeah.

I think not.

Yes, I was born without a tail. I'm a genetic weirdie, but still adorable.

Flying Leap!

This is how I feel.

The good news is I'm done with my thesis in no more than 30 days.

The bad news is that 30 days is a long time.

I will make this thesis my #)(%#&^#

That's a promise.

Run, thesis, run.

Currently listening to: Meghan Tonjes--This Year. <3

Old Soul.

I've always been told I have an old soul.

It's true that my 'Buelo was my best friend growing up. My great-uncle told the most amazing stories about things he did and places he lived that I'll never see. That my basketball coach was (and is) like a surrogate grandfather. Old things--people, places, things. I love them. I love old stories, and to hear about how things were for my grandparents when they were growing up. The struggle during the Great Depression. The Dust Bowl. The war stories. How my 'Buelo cowboyed back in his youth. How my Mimi didn't speak English until she was 10, and what a challenge it was to learn English in her very traditional Czech family. How her dad (who I never met) walked 20 miles to work every Sunday, lived on the jobsite until Friday, and then walked home on every weekend.

If loving those kinds of things make me an old soul, I guess I am.

It doesn't hurt that I enjoy hanging out with older generations more than with my peers. Or that it makes my heart swell when I see an older couple walking in the mall, hand-in-hand. I don't care that they're going slow and holding up traffic. If I'm blessed with a marriage that lasts long enough to make me a slow morning mall-walker, I'll consider myself lucky.

It's also no surprise that my YA WIP centers around the relationship between a  nursing home-bound war veteran and a juvenile delinquent. Or that letters factor heavily into the story, because I can't imagine a time when people actually wrote out missives longhand, instead of sending a Wht r u doin text. (Is there anything more romantic than handwritten love letter? Not that I can think of.)

Anyway, at one time there was a point to this blog post. I think it was because this has been plastered all over my facebook wall.

They're adorable. And I bet they've got some great stories.

Currently Listening to: Meghan Tonjes' cover of Africa (by Toto)

The Struggle.

Currently listening to Jason Isabell--The Devil Is My Running Mate.

Today it took me two hours to write 600 words.

For the record, I'm a pretty speedy typer, so it wasn't the mechanics holding me back. Nope, it was the unflexed writing muscle. Unfortunately I've been on a bit of a self-inflicted writing hiatus ever since the new year rolled around. I've got this pesky thing called a thesis that REALLY needs some attention. Like, if it's not done in the next six weeks, I don't graduate in May. *cue panic here*

Given options, I'd much rather write from-my-head fiction than thesis fact. (Yeah, hybrid zones, I hate you.) Rather inconveniently, my fiction writing isn't looking to pay my bills any time soon, so thesis it is. (Why I'm in a science master's program is anyone's guess. 'Cuz I've got absolutely no friggin' clue.)

Anyway. I made myself a deal--No novel until the dreaded thesis is done.

I've already broken that contract, of course.

Citing good behavior (I've been studying and generally being super--and unnaturally--productive), I gave myself a little reprieve today.

Too bad it sucked.

The 600 words today were a struggle of epic proportions. Were they epic words?--oh hell no. But perhaps they were functional. I'm afraid to reread them, so I can't tell. I'm not the type of writer who can go for extended periods of no writing without it showing. It's painful, really. But hopefully it'll be over soon and I can get back into the groove.

Only six more weeks to go.

How's your writing going?

Writing Perks.

I don't tell many people that I write.

Firstly, I'm a pretty private person. (Odd, maybe, for a blogger. Clarification: I enjoy the anonymity of the Internet, but try not to hide behind or abuse it.)

Secondly, I can often do without  people's odd/ignorant/stupid comments. (only one of those type comments is a bad thing. still, I'd rather avoid all of them.)

I'll probably tell curious people I'm a writer when/if I'm published. Until then, I won't say much about it. But inevitably you've probably got to tell someone what you're doing, if only to justify why you're spending X number of hours locked away with only the computer for company.

Eventually your significant other/grandma/etc. isn't going to believe that you're actually watching porn*. (Though, depending on your relationship with said person, you may only have to use this answer once...but I digress.) So, when they get too curious for their own good, you've got to fess up.

In my particular instance, the people who know I actively write in hopes of publication include one of my sisters and the loverman/fiance thing. Both are wonderful, nonjudgmental people. One found out because she has the nosey Czech gene from our grandmother. The other knows because he hoped it was actually porn (<--joke.)

Given that I see the latter every day, it's often that he's around while I'm writing.

Then, on days when I'm a little out of sorts with him (like today) and he pokes his head in my office to ask what I'm doing, I get to answer with delicious honesty.

Plotting, I'll say.
Add smile.
Turn back to computer.
Then let him wonder.

*Speaker discretion advised.


Currently listening to Nothing Else Matters/Despedida Medley--Shakira

Why I lack productivity.

 I have a good reason--I swear.

(Double swears!)

PUPPIES! :)

Get something done with these guys yipping and squirming around?

Right.

Puppy Jumble. :)



Since this photo, all their little noses have turned black.
In Rhodesian Ridgebacks, liver/brown noses are resultant of
a homozygous recessive pigment gene. The sire of this litter has a
brown nose, meaning he is homozygous recessive for that particular gene.
The dam has a black nose--meaning she could either* be homozygous
 dominant or a heterozygote (one 'brown copy' of the gene and one 'black copy').
However, given that all the puppies wound up having black noses, it's highly
likely that the dam is homozygous dominant (and therefore the puppies are heterozygotes).



She may seem content, but in reality she was growling at me the whole
time I was snapping these photos. Basically, the ideal momma dog.





Alas, even playing the puppy card has its limits. So now I'm back to work in this area.

(Is it any wonder I don't get much done?)

Hope everyone had a fantastic holiday!

~l

*given that I don't remember what her parents were--otherwise the alleles would have been pretty easy to figure out, once you do all the probability stuff.

It's Okay to Suck. (Seriously.)

No matter how you say it, nobody wants to suck. At anything. I'm one of those people. Blame my perfectionism, my INFJ personality, whatever. Long story short, that trait is very deeply ingrained within my personality. It's there for the long haul, baby.

And you know what?

It's something I/you/we need to get over. That's right, I said it. You've got to be willing to suck at some things before you can ever get better.

Several examples come to mind, ranging from musical instruments to sports. Regardless of the scenario, however, the idea holds true. Ask yourself this question: 'What things am I naturally good at?' Got a scroll-like list yet?

Then try this one on for size: 'What are the things that I really love doing?'

Odds are, between the two questions, you'll have some overlap. But there may be a few things you love and maybe aren't so naturally good at. (This is where the musical instruments analogy comes in.) Some people are musically inclined. My family (largely excluding me) is one such group--everyone plays at least one instrument, usually two. My mom is just amazing--she plays piano, guitar, flute, sings....

But she didn't get to be seventeen kinds of awesome overnight. (I think it took two nights.)

*...maybe she's not the best example....*

A long, long time ago, I asked my mater familia to teach me her wicked-awesome-guitar/singing-jedi-ways. She obliged, began speaking in reverse syntax like Yoda and calling me 'grasshoppa'.

Wonder of all wonders (not), I sucked. Something about strumming and singing at the same time blew my mind to the point of short circuiting. I was pissed. First (bratty) reaction went something like this: Whatthehellwhyisn'tthisworkingi'msupposedtobeawesomeliketherestofmyfamilyamIadoptedthissucksIquit.

Yoda...erm, my madre, just laughed and handed me back my guitar pick after the ninth time I'd launched it airborne. And you know what she said?

Suck you do. Hopeless you are not.

And that gets us to the point of this whole rambling blog post: It's okay to suck. Seriously. Most people throw in the towel in the early stages of learning to do anything new because they can't handle not being awesometastic immediately.

To get to Jedi Master levels, you've got to be willing to suck first. To not be naturally awesome or a virtuoso. And that fact, well, sucks. But those people who do stick it out, deal with the ridicule, ignore the family members who point and giggle, eventually stop sucking. Maybe even get to the point where others consider them to be impressive. Maybe even Yoda-like.

The same theory can be applied to many different fields. Because it's on this blog, you can bet I'm going to relate it to writing. Many moons ago, once I decided I was going to get serious about writing, I found this awesome writing forum. I learned a ton immediately--the amount of Jedi Master Juice there is fantastic. I prematurely posted a snippet of a WIP up on the Share Your Work section, and promptly got told that it needed work. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary. I was told I sucked, but I wasn't hopeless. There might have even been some potential hidden in there.

Flashback to the mom and guitar session.

Through some self-motivation, I'm still writing. I can now say with complete honesty that I've gotten better. I understand the craft more now. Nowhere near an expert, but I'm learning more and more everyday just because I want to.

Most people think that writing is simple, that anyone can do it. They're only partly right.

All it takes is dedication and patience.

And the willingness to suck.

Why hello there, stranger.

Admittedly, I know it's been about four million years since my last post. I know that's not good. It's not because I haven't had much to say. Quite to the contrary: I've had A LOT to say...just not really about writing. This mainly because that evil monster called School consumes my life. She let me out for a short reprieve, however, so I'm here to make the mostest of it.

So, what have I been doing in the last two months? Well. I've--

1) Written 3 not-for-funsies papers*

2) Completed a rough draft of my thesis proposal

3) Completed AFLP analyses on 40 of my 130 specimens

4) Created presentation over completed research

5) Presented presentation at BigScaryScientificConference (Subtitled: PlaceWhereGraduateStudentHatersCongregateAndAnnihilate)

6) Collapsed with relief once BigScaryConference was over

7) Had a drink. Or three.

8) Made and presented another presentation.

9) Collapsed. Drank.

10) Attended music festival. Did not drink.

11) Ate copious amounts of candy

11.5) More candy/caffeine here.

12) Studied and took 3 finals.

13) Collapsed.

14) Preoccupied my mind by surfing youtube. (This is fantastic. I ran and bought several of her originals from itunes after finding this cover.)

15) Realized I haven't really done crap in the way of Actual Writing**

The good news is, however, that I've spent most of the day alternating between AW surfing and glorious WIP-writing. (AKA, It's been a damn good day.) I've basically outlined 3/4 of my romance novel, and that's something that makes me verrah happeh. I've also figured out a queue for my WIPs and set some goals. (Goals are a good thing.)

I plan on finishing two WIPs this year: my historical romance and my YA Contemp (which basically just needs a middle-section-rewrite), come hell or highwater. It's going to be tough, but I think I can do it.

So. hello! More stuff coming here (hopefully good stuff) soon, so check back!

Up next: It's okay to suck.

*Not-for-funsies=anything school related. Usually dry, boring, scientific style writing that sucks my soul.
**Actual Write=well, basically the opposite of above.

Working the angles

So, it's been a long time since I've posted on here. That's the thing with school--it consumes my life. I may be female, but I'm not a very good multitasker or time-manager (don't tell my bf...he believes the facade).

Anyway.

I recently took on some major house-renovating tasks. Like the kind that should probably be done by someone with, oh, I don't know, a contractor's license. Yeah, I go big.

One of the most minor tasks I began was pulling up the atrocious moss growing on the stairs. Although it's not a good picture:

  
Those lovely stairs are encased in fungus...erm, I mean carpet. Carpet samples, no less. Orange and green, of a really fuzzylicious composition. (Yes, today 'fuzzylicious' is a word. Work with me here.)

It was a bit more of a task than I anticipated. It was sweaty, dusty work. There's no telling how long how those samples had been there, and it seemed like they were rebelling against removal. Like, growing and becoming one with the wood beneath. *Refrains from 'you complete me' joke*

Somewhere around halfway down the staircase I started thinking about writing. (Mainly how I would much rather be writing, but that's not the point.) Pulling up ancient carpet on stairs is friggin' work. I found out the hard way that you can't just pull in side-to-side (aka, safe) motions. You've got to work the angles when tugging on that carpet to achieve maximum rippage, and that means occasionally pulling in non-safe (or not smart) directions.

Namely in a downhill direction, but I digress. 

The point of this rambling post isn't about potentially dangerous home improvements. It's about writing. 

Yep, there's a correlation between effective carpet removal and enjoyable and effective storytelling. Whudathunkit?

Working the angles is a good idea in carpet removal. The same goes with your writing...you've got to explore alternatives to fully evaluate your plot. You've got to scrutinize your story, find the nails (plotholes), and then figure out the best way to remove them. Brainstorm. Pick your nose. Stand on your head--whatever works for you.

Once you find the problem(s) in your story, often you've got to change your approach. Don't just keep pulling/writing in the same direction. It'll just frustrate you, and probably make you want to quit and drink a bottle of wine in a bubblebath. Don't be afraid to take a (short) breather, either. It's better to step away for a bit than to get so irritated you end up leaving the stairs half molded, half not. Or to keep writing aimlessly, with no real direction. Find the angles that work. Look for alternatives. Ask yourself "what if?" And by all means, change for a different tool from your writerly utility belt if your need to. (No sense in using a hammer if a crowbar is what you need, or vice versa.) The harder you examine your plot/characters/theme, the stronger you can make it.

If you're struggling, often you'll find those alternative angles (after a lot of painful brainstorming, of course) are the ones that tell the story best. And isn't that what we're all after here?

The only difference between writing and home improvements in an ancient rent house is, after working my novel's angles and removing plotholes, I don't feel the need for a rabies/hepatitis/tetanus cocktail vaccination.

Usually, anyway.

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Flames?

Hello, bloggosphere

Yep. It's happened. After all this time resisting, I've finally decided to get a blog. (Obviously.)

Welcome!

I won't say that this will be one of those profound, deeply terrificallywondiferous blogs. Quite to the contrary, in fact. I’m on a journey to become a published writer, and I’m sure there will be huge potholes along the way. Like monumental, ginormous quicksand-filled pits with vipers at the bottom.

Pit vipers.

But I digress.

However, like most things worthwhile, the work is worth the gain (fingers crossed). I’m currently working on a time-travel romance. Writing a straight-up romance is new for me—I’ve tried my hand at UF, YA, and thriller/suspense. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to make up my mind. Stick around here long enough and you’ll see that for yourself.

Anyways. My dog (LittleMonster) is eating one of my shoes. Until next time,

~l