For now...but only for now...

The clock is ticking. I promised this would be the year. I pat myself on the back when I finally input 4300 words several days ago, but then can't find time to do another 4300 and another 4300.

I want to believe I'll finish it this year. I want to believe that what I consider to be important, not just for me but for many people in my situation, that this will make it worth finishing. Why can't I make myself?

So, for now, I seem to be in a holding pattern, wanting so much to finish so I can move onto the next thing, but not being able to let go until this thing is perfect.

Any ideas are welcome... I can't say I won't scoff at them or nod my head then not put them to use, but I can try, just like anyone else. I can try.



Tomorrow, I finish a sculpture due for the appropriately titled, "Sculpture" class. I have hesitated telling people what it is until they see it because, as I tell them, I don't want to influence their critiques. I'm hoping to post a picture of it when I finish tomorrow.


copyright - All rights to the work posted on this site are retained by Cass Van Gelder. If you'd like to use some of my work, please ask. To do so, the permissions must be spelled out in writing...from me...I mean it. I have horribly mean cats; don't make me use them.

CD Wright, anyone..? (originally posted 04-21-11)

I'd never heard of C.D. Wright until last night when I stumbled into a reading of hers - which was good - but weird. The list of weirdness goes on for a foot, but it at least generated an equally long list of my own writing. (Yea, a lone cry comes from the stands).

So, new parts to add to Ruby, and a new story line for The Sun. (And even bigger Yea!)

F**ked Up Days Happen All The Time (originally posted 02-02-11)

Writing today seems nearly impossible. I don't know that I have it in me to even look at the pages. I've spent my day, buried in someone else's work, fixing it so it's readable. They appreciate my work, so it makes it easier to take in the fact that I'm tearing down and rebuilding someone else's words rather than creating my own.

I wrote an entirely different post that I gave a few moments pause to posting, but I decided against it.

It was neither funny nor inspirational. It was just sad. Deeply, deeply sad. And there's enough sadness. Just take a look at the news. Or inside Lindsay Lohan's house.

Chalk it up to a sucky, fuc*y day, and let it slide on down.

I leave it with this - I wish there were more people in my life who could look at me and believe in me, believe in what I had to say, rather than to disregard the truth and believe something that has no proof and no weight.

It broke my heart today to have no benefit, that loveliest of benefits, the one of doubt.

Benefit of doubt.

It is, isn't it? A great benefit.

Anyway, I have to get this finished or I will be stuck doing this work for the rest of my life.

THAT should be motivation enough. But it isn't. Oooh, look, the laundry's backing up again.

Twilight did what...? (originally posted 02-01-11)

(This was supposed to be posted 2 days ago... yeah, this blogging this is already a flaming success...grr...)

For the last few days, Olivia (my ten-year-old daughter) and I have been sick with the latest round of the loveliness that is The Flu. I stayed home originally to take care of her and then to take her to the doctor, but by the time we made it in, she and I were vomiting in complete synchronization. There was such clarity to it, I thought we might suggest an event to the Olympic committee, however that would have meant tearing myself out of bed, which by 4pm was impossible.

Instead, we laid in bed, sleeping while the tv played random HBO and Showtime movies throughout the day. I woke up around 4 am on one of these mornings to New Moon from the Twilight - The Emo Years series.

For those who haven't seen it, it's this very moody misty gray to-doing about very moody misty gray teenagers and a few people posing as teenagers. I watched with my eyes half-caked with sick crust and a haziness to the world around me. Funnily enough, between where my little sicky head was and what was being projected, everything felt like it melded together in this druggy melted collage. In this dreamy state, I let myself listen and experience all things that are Twilight without pooh-poohing it, as I might have done if fully awake. And as much I want to hang myself for now being forced to say so, I found the answer to one of my problems in my novel.

I have had difficulty getting the actual story line of my book written out. Partly, I've had this problem because I've forgotten what it's like to be 17. So much happened in my life since then - not to mention there's a lot that I don't want to actually remember - that I haven't been able to grasp what it was like not to have to work, to wake up and only worry about how I was going to wear my hair (and making sure I wasn't repeating myself over the last 2 weeks), to be excited about seeing that guy near my lockers, that guy that laughed the way that made me want to dance and vomit all at the same time. I just forgot the simplicity and the complexity of it all.

One of the things I also started with was an old trick of mine - writing backwards. This isn't where you go all Beautiful Mind on the world and start writing gibberish that only makes sense to farm animals and Hawking's nurse.

Basically, I start with the event where I wanted to end up, then I go backwards to the chapter before it and write that. Then the one before that and on and on. It's a trick my uncle taught me about mazes. He said, "Start at the Finish Line. Know where you want to go and then figure out how to get there by going backwards." It works every time - in mazes and in writing. I'm not kidding. Seriously, never challenge me to a maze race on a restaurant placemap - I'm that good.


Anyway, so it's a start. A good starts...