New Year, New Goals

It's been so long since I've posted on here, I forgot my password. Eek.

As you can guess, one of my New Year resolutions is to blog more often. *g*

I love January first. I begin every year by eliminating clutter--both literally and mentally. I clean junk drawers, search the kids rooms for broken toys or clothes they've out grown, and try to find ways to make my life more organized, all the while thinking of ways to keep my life in order. This year my main challenge is nothing new - scrunching more into my already tight schedule. With my job, the kids, writing, and farming, I get easily overwhelmed. So while I was tossing broken crayons and pens without caps today, I came up with an idea I hope will help: I created a weekly checklist.

I broke my life down into three categories: family, personal, and writing, and chose resolutions for each. Then I made a checklist of things I needed to accomplish each week in order to achieve the results. I kept the tasks simple and open ended--listing only the words "weekly writing goal" instead of naming a specific page or word count, for example, so I can adjust my weekly goal according to the shenanigans in my life.

And of course, since I only work for rewards, I decided that if I do make these goals, I won't have to cook on Fridays. That's pretty phenomenal motivation, in my humble opinion.

So what are you doing to help you meet your resolutions this year?

Blocked

At the beginning of the month, I attended a wonderful seminar - Story Masters - given by Donald Maass, James Scott Bell and Christopher Vogler.

Any writer - aspiring or published - should go to this if possible. There's another seminar being held next year around the same time in Seattle. Check out free-expressions.com for more info.

Because let me tell you...The first HOUR of  this seminar was worth the money. My friends and I spent three days with three incredible, intelligent men who all had a slightly different approach to improving the craft of writing. All of us walked away with knew knowledge and ideas.

I walked away with too much. And a really bad sore throat.

By the time I got home Sunday night, my mind was spinning with possible adjustments to plots, characters who wouldn't shut up, ideas and ideas and IDEAS galore. I couldn't wait to sit down and start typing.

Problem was...I was really sick, and really tired. And to top it all off, I started a new job the very next morning. NEW JOB, guys. I haven't worked outside of my home in 4 years. And the day after the Story Masters blew my mind, I had to put aside all of those beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous things swirling like a tornado through my head, begging me to get them down on paper, and go to work.

Writing had to wait. And wait. And wait. I obviously couldn't write at my new job. My throat wasn't getting any better, so I had to spend half of an evening in urgent care. And I also had to get my house back in order after being gone for five days. In the meantime, I was gaining a plethora of knowledge during training for my new job.

And did I mention the NEVER ENDING HARVEST SEASON FROM HELL?

When I actually had time to sit my butt in my chair...

Nothing happened.

I. Mean. Nothing.

This has NEVER happened to me before. Sure, I've had a case of writer's block here or there, but every time  it's ever occurred before, I got past it quickly.

This block lasted for DAYS.

You see, I have always considered myself a pantser. But lately it occurred to me plotting more would help me edit my work. So I mapped out this beautiful story. Had all of the elements of Christopher Vogler's The Writer's Journey. Used Donald Maass' prompts and James Scott Bell's advice to better my plot and characters.

This story was golden.

And I couldn't write it. Not a SINGLE FRICKEN WORD.

I fretted for days. I thought that by going back to work I'd lost the creative part of my mind. I started to believe I wasn't a writer. That it didn't matter how hard I tried because I sucked.

Long story short, I got over it. Er...kind of.

I'm still not sure what happened. Maybe my brain had shut down after being overloaded with knowledge from both the new job and Story Masters. It's possible I plotted this book too much for my muse's liking. Whatever the reason, I knew I had to get past this. So I decided to start a different story. I have no idea where this one's going. There is NO PLOT. I have a few characters in my head. This could turn out to be a nightmare.

All I know is this - words are flying, spewing, BLEEDING onto the page.

Whatever works, right?

What do you all do when you've gotten a case of writer's block? Do you plot? Or do you pants it?

Live YOUR Life

A recent conversation (with a somewhat narrow minded person who I still love despite his downfalls) got me thinking about my life and what people see.

For a fleeting moment, I considered defending myself to this person. But then I realized no matter how I justify what I do on a daily basis, people who don't want to see me for who I am will never see me for who I am.

I love my life. I'm happy. I have an awesome husband who supports me, great kids who are an absolute joy. I love my job--well, jobs. I'm a mother, a farm wife, a writer, and as of Monday, Nov. 7th, a part time customer service rep at a bank. I am those things in that order. Mother first, wife second. My children and husband are my priority. Our family farm is a very close second. I work hard at those two things so I can do the rest--work on writing and at the bank.

But I'm also a person. I need down time. I need nights out with friends. I need to pursue what makes me happy. This doesn't make me LESS of a person. It just makes me a PERSON.

Long gone are the days where women stayed at home with the children and the man brought home the bread.  Some say those days were simpler. I say family dynamics doesn't define simplicity. How you live your life does.

I'm not a great cook, but my family eats dinner together almost every day. It might be mac-n-cheese or McDonalds, but we're at the table and conversing. I'm not mother of the year - I'll be the first to admit, sometimes my kids drive me crazy, but I love them with every part of my being, and I make sure they are fed, healthy, happy, and DISCIPLINED. My husband and I argue, but we know every little bump in the road is just that - a bump in a life long path we're committed to walking, driving, or even running together. TOGETHER being the key word. Our life and our decisions are just that--ours.

My husband cooks and does laundry. I unload corn and mow the lawn. If my husband needs help in the shop, you better believe I'll be out there getting my hands greasy. If I need time to write, my husband takes care of the kids without question or complaint. We don't define our roles as husband/wife or mother/father. We are PARENTS. We are PARTNERS. We step up when it's needed. Fill in the gaps. Support each other. There is one END RESULT - and that's happiness. Who cares if the man of the house is sorting socks or the woman of the house is using a chainsaw? We don't, and neither should anyone else.

While some may fail to see anything other than a woman sitting behind a computer toying with words, the people who know me for who I am see a hard working woman who is pursuing a dream. While some may think my husband is pawning off his responsibilities to his wife when they watch me pull out of a field with a wagon in tow, those who know him for who he is have no doubt he appreciates all of the things his wife does for him so he can pursue his dream.

I won't let ANYONE stop me from pursuing my happiness, which is a balance between family and career, for both my husband and myself. And I will NOT allow myself to come to a conclusion about anyone else's life. What they do and HOW THEY DO IT is their own business.

I am living MY life. And I'm not letting anyone's expectations or unfair judgement get in my way.

Are you living YOUR life?

Life is Like Laundry

There are two chores I absolutely loathe. Laundry and dishes.

We live in an old farmhouse, and our laundry room is in the basement. There's a convenient little chute in our bathroom, so all we have to do is toss our dirty laundry down and forget about it.

Well, the problems is just that. I forget about it. Until I reach into my closet and realize there's no jeans left for me to wear, I have no idea what's going on downstairs. Then I saunter down into the basement, past the pool table that's only used for storage, past my scrapbooking area that I have no time to utilize, and into the laundry room. My washer and dryer look at me accusingly. I've left them down there alone for days. They're dust covered and most likely filled with laundry I long ago forgot about.

Then I make a slow turn to the right and a pile as tall as me of dirty laundry sits in the corner.

It's overwhelming. It's heartbreaking. I'd give almost anything for the pile to magically clean and fold itself.

But alas, no one has invented that handy dandy contraption yet.

Sometimes life is like that dirty pile of laundry. It can accumulate. Take you by surprise. Overwhelm you to the point of tears.

But I think it helps to 'separate the loads' so to speak.

Separate that laundry pile into loads--two loads of jeans, one load of towels, one load of whites, etc--and toss one load in. See that now empty spot on the floor? That's an accomplishment.

When I look at my MS as chapters instead of a book, and I get through one chapter, I have that same sense of accomplishment. Likewise with harvesting. One field down--huzzah. It could be a six acre field for all I care. At least it's one accomplishment. One success.

And we all want to be successful, right?

So next time your life is like that six foot high pile of dirty laundry, separate it into small accomplishments. It's less daunting.

A Different Kind of Deadline: Take a Ride With Me!

Writers know about deadlines. I think, in most cases, even unpubbed authors give themselves deadlines. I do.

Yesterday, here on the farm, we faced a deadline of our own: Beat the rain.

It's a deadline we've dealt with a lot this harvest season. Actually, we dealt with it most of planting season too. This has been, by far, the wackiest year in Northwest Ohio that I can remember.

So, with the weather radar showing a huge blob of green slowly making it's way toward us, we headed out to the field to get as much done as possible. Normally, I work in my office during the day, but when things are hectic, I'm glad to help out in the fields. My husband was harvesting a field that we have to cross what is called a 'low flow' to get to. Basically, it's a fancy word for a place in a ditch that a vehicle can cross. It looks like this:

Yep. That's my Expedition. I took this picture while sitting in the combine.
The reason we wanted to get this particular field finished before the rain is because this small trickle of water:

Would no longer be a trickle after it began raining. And even once the water cleared out, it would be a muddy mess. Since rain is predicted for 40 days and 40 nights--kidding! But we did have a lot of rain in our forecast, so we decided this field was a priority.

The hubs crossed the low flow in the combine and started shelling corn. For those of you who've never ridden in a combine before, it looks just like this:

When the hopper is full, the corn is dumped into a wagon:

Sometimes we use our trucks--in this case (above), the load was light, and my Expedition could handle it. In other cases (below) we string 3 wagons together, and a tractor is needed to pull them. We also have a semi, but since we had to drive through the low flow, using the semi was not ideal.

And then we unload the grain:

The grain goes down into the pit, and an auger pulls it away, then up the grain leg and into what we call the drying bin. The heating system dries the grain while stirring it, and then the system transfers it into a storage bin when it's dry.

Here's part of the heating system. It gives us a read out of the corn moisture and temp every five minutes.

So, that's a somewhat typical day on our farm. Hope you enjoyed working with me!

Well...this blows

It's windy here in NW Ohio. Very windy. And it's put a cramp in harvesting.

Combines are sort of like a digestive tract: everything goes in the front, the good stuff is 'absorbed,' and the rest is spewed out the rear. It's this waste--a mix of dry plant particles and fine dust that can be flammable--in combination with the wind that makes harvesting on days like today scary. When we were combining earlier, all of the stuff that was supposed to come out the back wasn't--the wind was blowing it back inside the combine, near the hot engine compartment. It's a potential fire hazard and if the combine were to catch fire, the field would catch fire as well. The high winds would spread it rapidly. We've already had one smoldering incident this harvest season and didn't want to risk another.

So we walked away.

Sometimes, when writing or editing, I feel the need to push myself. To keep going, no matter what kind of crap I'm putting on paper. No matter how tired and cranky I am. I frustrate myself and get to thinking my MS will never be worth anything more than kindling for a bonfire. I know at that point, it's best to just walk away.

What's the point of harvesting a few acres on one windy day if the end result is a fire that puts you out of commission for days or more?

What's the point of continuing to write if nothing is meshing and the end result is a bunch of sewage that leads you to believe your a horrible writer that will never get published?

Sometimes we need to back up. Take a break. Re-energize and re-group. Have some fun. Have a few drinks. Get lost in a book or watch a movie.

Today, I'm setting aside both writing and harvesting, and I'm heading to the big city for some retail therapy.

What have you done lately to re-energize?

Hey y'all! So glad you've joined me. Let me start this blog by telling you a little bit about myself.

I live in northwest Ohio with my husband and two children on our family farm. We don't have any livestock, unless you count the numerous cats who roam our property.

If anyone would have told me 15 years ago I'd still be living in Ohio, I would have laughed in their faces. I didn't want to live in a rural area. I wanted city lights and late nights. I didn't want to get married until I was at least 30. I wanted kids, but not for a long time.

Well, at the age of 21, I married the love of my life, who lived on a farm in northwest Ohio. I had my first child at 22. Weirdest of all--I love, LOVE farming, almost as much as I love writing.

I only began writing with the intent to be published about two years ago, and it's been a wild ride. I wouldn't have made it without the help of a great group of people - my critique group, my mentor, and my bfff (best 'f***ing friend forever) - and my wonderful, supportive husband, who often listened to me ramble on about writing. When I didn't believe he would fully understand the hell I was going through, I'd say, "It's kind of like farming. You know, when *this* happens."

So that's where the idea for this blog came from.

Writing and farming are extremely rewarding careers that may make you crazy in the process.

I hope you enjoy, and maybe even get a laugh out of it.

--Kim