I was at my computer, but my mind was in a secret lair in a butte in Idaho. The scene was tense the words were flying...
Vern's been captured. He's injured, bound and muzzled, poisoned and surrounded by seven minions armed with machine guns. Even more, he's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.
Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.
He's caught in its beauty--
"Hey, Mom, when will Dad be home?"
"uh... let me e-mail him, k?"
Vern's injured, bound and muzzled, poisoned and surrounded by seven minions armed with machine guns. Even more, he's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.
Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.
He's caught in its beauty--
"Mom? Did you e-mail Dad?"
"Yes, I did, and I'm trying to write!"
Vern's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead. Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.
He's caught in its beauty--
"What's Liam doing outside, Mom?"
"I don't know! I'm writing. Go look out the window--the other window."
Vern thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him. He's caught in its beauty--
"Say, Mom? Can I borrow your mike to record something?"
"Yes! Fine!"
He thinks he's going to die--
"What's the program I need?"
"Audacity! And if it's not downloaded, you have to wait!"
Then he sees--
"Hey, Mom?"
"Please! I'm trying to write! This is a tense scene and Vern is very caught up in his feelings. He's drooling and everything. Just give me ten minutes to drool with Vern!"
"Oooo-kay."
Vern's been captured. He's injured, bound and muzzled, poisoned and surrounded by seven minions armed with machine guns. Even more, he's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.
Then he sees it. A dragon stone.
The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.
He's caught in its beauty--
"Mom, can you help me with this one thing? Please?"
OK Deep breaths. These are your children. They're more important than any old story. Just walk away from the computer, help your daughter--
"Never mind! I got it."
"aaargh!!!"
Word Count: 41, 832. I need to stop for a couple of days and write some articles and a story I want to submit to an anthology that's filling fast.
Fave Phrase: There were so many this time! However, here's how the scene I was trying to write finally played out:
There's a difference between letting your enemy think you're weak and helpless and actually being so. Picking these guys off one by one or driving them to distraction and getting Charlie and Heather to run for it wasn't going to work. Plan. I needed a new plan. I couldn't think; couldn't focus. Stupid henchmen with their stupid stars and stupid beards and stupid iron bullets...
McThing finished his McBreathing. "Why don't we start again? I think we're losing our focus." He spread his hands placatingly.
I saw it. On his pinkie.
"That's an interesting ring." My voice was hoarse, and I swallowed hard.
"Do you like it? A present from my superior. With this, we will power our plans and rule both worlds."
"Some present. It's hardly a pebble. Any idea how big the ones in my treasure pile back home are?" I forced myself to sound disdainful. I tried not to follow it with my eyes, or one eye; I had to twist my head to keep McThing in my site.
A dragonstone. The most treasured gemstone in my universe. Forged from the beginning of time, so beautiful, bearing the kiss of magic.
I wanted that kiss like I'd never wanted anything in my life. I shivered with need.
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Spoiled Kids
As a mom of a teenagers, one of my biggest challenges is to convince the kids that they have no real reason to be dissatisfied with their lot. Every time one of them starts with the "I'm depressed" or "Life stinks," I'm right there to disagree. Whether the serious lecture, the sarcastic speech or the rhetorical questions, the points don't change:
1. You have parents in a happy, loving, committed relationship.
2. They love you and do their best for you, listen to you and play with your more than their parents did. (Sorry Mom and Dad, but it's true.)
3. You have siblings who, even with the standard arguments get along with you better than a lot of siblings we know.
4. You have a roof over your head, so much food you can afford to not clean your plate, desert and junk food far too often.
5. You have a good school with teachers that care and kids that, even when snobby, are kinder than many we grew up around.
6. You have computer games, MP3 players, TV and all forms of entertainment in addition to a plethora of other board games, crafts, science kits....
7. Your dad's in a stable job that brings in a good paycheck and gets him home to us, even if not always at a reasonable hour.
It seems to me that the more people have, the easier it is to feel dissatisfied. Now, I've read I'm not the only one to see that. A Generation Tries to Imagine Life Without iPods.
I love the last line in the article:
If it had been me, I would have told her, "OK. empty your wallet and give me your cellphone and iPod so I can hock them and get the money to people in real need." I'll even go one further and find someone who actually believes, despite their impoverished situation, that they are blessed to be alive in this century and this country.
1. You have parents in a happy, loving, committed relationship.
2. They love you and do their best for you, listen to you and play with your more than their parents did. (Sorry Mom and Dad, but it's true.)
3. You have siblings who, even with the standard arguments get along with you better than a lot of siblings we know.
4. You have a roof over your head, so much food you can afford to not clean your plate, desert and junk food far too often.
5. You have a good school with teachers that care and kids that, even when snobby, are kinder than many we grew up around.
6. You have computer games, MP3 players, TV and all forms of entertainment in addition to a plethora of other board games, crafts, science kits....
7. Your dad's in a stable job that brings in a good paycheck and gets him home to us, even if not always at a reasonable hour.
It seems to me that the more people have, the easier it is to feel dissatisfied. Now, I've read I'm not the only one to see that. A Generation Tries to Imagine Life Without iPods.
I love the last line in the article:
After my lecture, one young woman walked up to me on her way out and huffed: "What I favor is a radical redistribution of wealth in America." I tried to tell her that America's greatness is a result of our focus on creating wealth, not redistributing it. But it was too late -- she was already tuning in to her iPod.
If it had been me, I would have told her, "OK. empty your wallet and give me your cellphone and iPod so I can hock them and get the money to people in real need." I'll even go one further and find someone who actually believes, despite their impoverished situation, that they are blessed to be alive in this century and this country.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Lunchbox Notes
This is the first time in 5 years that our children have not homeschooled, and I've had to deal with packing lunches. One thing I felt was important--as much to me as to them--was that I include a little note. After the first week, "I love you" and "Have a great day" got tiresome, so I started writing pithy quotes--funny, profound or Biblical.
Yesterday, Steven, my 8th grader, asked me to stop including noted in his lunches. It seemed one kid had made a sport of snatching them out and reading them aloud. (You can guess the tone he was using if it made my usually oblivious child embarrassed.)
This started quite a discussion on lunch box notes. I didn’t want to stop writing them--it was my way to let them know during the school day that I loved them, and I found that is very important to me. Amber said her friends often pass them around and have told her she's lucky to have a mom who packs her lunches and gives her notes. Alex told me he saves his to he can re-read them. Rob, my husband, wanted to know why Steven wasn't defending his lunchbox better.
In the end, we came up with a better alternative. The next day, I packed his lunch with this note:
Of course, Steven, somehow not getting the concept to the Gotcha! Factor, warned him and the kid has decided to lay off lunchbox notes. In the meantime, one of Amber's friends whote "HI MOM!" on one of Amber's notes.
Guess I've got another person to write for.
Yesterday, Steven, my 8th grader, asked me to stop including noted in his lunches. It seemed one kid had made a sport of snatching them out and reading them aloud. (You can guess the tone he was using if it made my usually oblivious child embarrassed.)
This started quite a discussion on lunch box notes. I didn’t want to stop writing them--it was my way to let them know during the school day that I loved them, and I found that is very important to me. Amber said her friends often pass them around and have told her she's lucky to have a mom who packs her lunches and gives her notes. Alex told me he saves his to he can re-read them. Rob, my husband, wanted to know why Steven wasn't defending his lunchbox better.
In the end, we came up with a better alternative. The next day, I packed his lunch with this note:
Eavesdroppers are seldom admired, but people who steal lunch box notes to read aloud are especially pitiful! Merry Christmas from Steven's Mom
Of course, Steven, somehow not getting the concept to the Gotcha! Factor, warned him and the kid has decided to lay off lunchbox notes. In the meantime, one of Amber's friends whote "HI MOM!" on one of Amber's notes.
Guess I've got another person to write for.
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