kellementology

life according to me

Author: K. Peacock Wright

  • What was I thinking? Round Two.

    What was I thinking? Round Two.

    Last year as response to a request from a friend, I committed myself to 30 days of writing my first novel during National November Writing Month, lovingly referred to as NaNoWriMo.  Fifty-thousand words written in 30 days qualifies anyone as a winner and outside of being diligent enough to actually write those words, the resulting manuscript file must also be uploaded to qualify your effort.

    Check to all of the above and I was a certified winner last year.  I wrote my 50,000+ words with only a few hitches in my giddy up:  we visited our son in San Francisco for Thanksgiving and were stuck there for two additional nights due to heavy fog up and down the coast.  We love San Francisco and visit frequently, but this was not one of our best travel memories.  Nevertheless, I did write during our delay, then after arriving home, pounded out the rest of the required word count.

    Of course I wasn’t finished.

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  • What routine?

    A year ago January, I made a commitment to lose 50 lbs.  After five months of diligent progress, I successfully achieved a 25 lb. loss and was perfectly on schedule to make my goal, still 25 lbs. away.  But here I sit, probably 15 lbs. heavier, thinking about that and other aspects of my life which continually present challenges.

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  • On getting a puppy.

    On getting a puppy.

    Somehow, during the not so dog days of August this year, I thought it was time to get a dog.  I know how that sounds, but please know the two are not connected. Or perhaps they are, the humidity this summer as opposed to the dry heat we’re used to saturating my perspective on daily life.

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  • Fridays and What Ifs

    I missed yesterday’s writing, but it should count that I spent a good amount of time discussing writing with a friend — someone who is also working on his first novel.  And the entire experience left me remembering how much I used to profess that thinking is the most important aspect of writing.  Of course, that doesn’t make much sense if I never actually sit down to write after that thought, so here I am.  Processing.  And I’ll do that through this weekend considering my novel, moving things around, adjusting bits of my character’s life — bits of ideas that only come with letting writing sit for a while.  Letting it sit for as long as I have is probably not a good thing, but that will change in a few days.

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  • Kickstarting a new routine

    Mid-week taking stock of things reveals I’m here and for the third day in a row, writing.  And clearly, writing here means I’m not writing my book, but it’s not going anywhere.  It will be much better waiting for me to establish a routine — even a glimmer of one before I sit down to finish it.

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  • The Last Summer Vacation

    It seems no matter where I am on the web right now, someone somewhere is headed Back-to-School.  Mothers are sad summer is over (or secretly not), healthy lunches are discussed (or those not so healthy tsk-tsked over), and teachers are settling in with yet another year’s classroom full of children.  The smell of crayons and freshly sharpened pencils waft through the streets.

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  • One step at a time. Maybe.

    I woke up well before I normally do today, willing myself to stay in bed and lie still, listening to the fan whir back and forth, the puff of air it creates just reaching me.  I watched the brightness on the walls created by the streetlight outside slowly fade as the dark sky made its way toward morning, but grew bored after a while and decided to get up.

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  • DIY: Travel Planning

    In less than a week, we will be on a non-stop flight to London, then take a short flight to Paris. Yes, Paris.

    I’ve been many places before — many —  but think I’ve been saving France in general for when my husband and I could go alone.  We’ve enjoyed trips to England and Wales with our youngest, then another fabulous road trip there with his parents.  We’ve also traveled through Italy with one of my older sons, but we’ve never been with each other — alone.

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  • To write, or not to write…

    To write, or not to write…

    I’ve learned that where I write has just as much to do with whether I write than anything else.  Where as in sitting in front of my Mac instead of outside on my tree shaded patio complete with morning cup of coffee, a pen with the just right feel, and my turquoise Moleskin (which is full of thinking about my novel and various explanations of why I’m not writing it).  But that isn’t the kind of writing I’m talking about.  It’s more what I’m doing right now.  The sitting in front of my Mac kind of writing.

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  • Thirty-four years ago, tomorrow.

    Thirty-four years ago, tomorrow.

     

    Tomorrow my oldest will be 34 years old.  My first boy.  The one I remember thinking wasn’t real when I found out I was pregnant.  I was unmarried, and not quite 22.

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