Staring at a blank page

Here it is...9 PM...do you know where your novel's words are? Nope. My silly, busy day resulted in a wonderful new laser mouse and new desperately needed eyeglasses, but not a single word on the Vine.
Makes me upset with me.
And what's worse...I opened up a page upon which I can usually spin a tale, but nothing came...not a word, not a gesture, not a thought.
So, I shall do what writers sometimes do best...procrastinate. *grin* And write a blog. I think that's who designed blogs, you know...procrastinating writers.

Tomorrow...there is always tomorrow.

~~Sheree~~

Shot outside West Edmonton Mall...this AM...while on my way to tutor two new students on a Sony camera.

I'm here for the party!

I am often asked where I get my ideas from...how I plan the plot twists...the characters...and the storyline.

My answer: I don't. That's right, I don't.

I went for dinner with a friend, who is also a fan of MV, last night...and she asked me about how I write. Here is what I told her:

Everyday, when I face my computer and my open Word program, it's like facing a set of barred doors, thick doors, butcher block doors, the kind of doors that would guard a castle keep. Behind those doors, I can hear people's voices, people arguing, people laughing, people having a party. And I so want to get to that party, but I must push my way into the room first.

Some days, the doors are easy to open, but some days they take everything I've got inside me to push them open so I can take part in the party. So, I push as hard as I can. Once those doors open, and I enter the party, the rest is pretty easy. I just become part of the group, listen in on conversations, and watch interactions. Like a movie in my head. Then I write as fast as I can type.

The worst is when I manage to push the doors open, but I am in my shower or driving my car. Then I go half nuts trying to memorize everything I am hearing and saying. That part makes me panic.

I made my quota again today. And that's after getting a very slow start on my day. But luckily today, the doors swung open with a single push. And that's such a good feeling.

I am close to 1/2 way through the book. I am finding Ruth's life to be totally intriguing, but the wild dogs back on the compound are giving Matthew's people a very hard time.

~~Sheree~~

Do you know of someone else who has read Martha's Vine, but who isn't reading this blog? Would you please send them the link? Thanks.

Isn't she sweet...I shot this little mother fox two springs ago. She was injured, but she was so involved with her babies. I found her courage to be awe-inspiring.

How did the pioneers do it?

Today's forecast for Edmonton is very moderate...almost tropical at -1C. (That's about 30F for my American friends). But the coldest temperatures recorded for this day was -43C back in the 1800s (that's 45 below in Fahrenheit.) Yikes. How did the pioneers survive? No modern conveniences. No quick warm-ups at the nearest coffee shop. No idling and running the heater on the horse and carriage. No electric buffalo blankets. Gross. How did they do it?

Makes me stop and wonder at the prospect of Martha's world truly existing. What if the power grid disappeared? How does one cope with wickedly cold winter temperatures? The pioneers did it, but how? How would the modern day descendants of those brave souls survive such cruel temperatures? Is there something inside us, something intrinsic, we could or would tap into? Scary thought.

Just getting through a day, and managing to get a night's rest would be a major accomplishment. How dramatically priorities would change. Food, water, shelter, warmth, and protection from those who would like to take what you have struggled to find would far outrank American Idol, hockey scores, and the latest camera gadget. Not a nice prospect at all. 

Back to writing on the Vine2 today. Things are not looking good for Martha and her people. And it's only October for them.

~~Sheree~~

Here is a view of what -40C looks like in northern Alberta.