Nano by Bonnie Le Hamitlon

National Novel Writer’s month is fast approaching, and I don’t have any innovative ideas for a story. In fact, of late all the stories I seem to be formulating have the same basic premise. Maybe if I ever manage to finish one of these stories, I’ll get that idea out of my head and I can move on to other things.

And I can’t get over how fast this year has gone. It seems like one minute it was June and I had plenty of time to come up with a premise, and the next it was October. Of course, back in July and August I did do a lot of writing.

I did do Camp Nano this year for the first time, and I worked on the story I started last November (the Nano I didn’t complete because a speeding drunk didn’t see the red light.) I did get quite a bit done on that story during Camp Nano, and I even finished the challenge, big time. I just didn’t reach “The End”.

And I should have continued working on it during August, but well, even before I dove into that challenge, my mind kept going back to another story of mine. (I know I already mentioned this.) I liked the premise for the story, I didn’t like how I had it opening.

Anyway, come August, I started over from scratch on that story and beat my July totals in like two weeks! I was moving right along, then long before I finished that story (though making more headway then I had previously) I got to thinking about another one of my unfinished stories.

All through the month of September I tried to stick to the August story, but kept going back to my latest one.

Frankly, I’m beginning to wonder how I ever managed to get any stories to “The End” at all the way I keep coming up blank on the story I’m trying to work on while yet another story invades my imagination. I have so many unfinished stories you would think I never finish anything.

But I have. I have reached “The End” six times, though I then later lost the first six chapters of one of those and I’ve yet to recreate or fix that problem. And I have a few which are way over the preferred word count for my genre, but they aren’t anywhere near a stopping point. And frankly, I think that might just be why I’m blocked on those stories, which is rather dumb after all the times I told Konnie not to worry about her word count and to just get her story down.

Maybe it’s time I took my own advice.

Happy writing everyone. 😊

Morning Thoughts by Konnie Enos

Try this morning. You get up at your normal hour and start waking teenagers up. Ten minutes later you hear activity but it isn’t your son getting in the tub so you go investigate. Oldest son, who doesn’t have to be up just yet, is getting food while youngest son is still in bed. You wake him up again. He finally gets up.

He can only find two pair of pants. Being on the autism spectrum he is picky about his pants. One won’t due because their pockets are too small. The other pair has big enough pockets but has a nice big hole in the crotch.

So you have dig out your sewing supplies and stitch up his pants while you make him get in the tub, already later than he should have. Situation handled and you can still get them to class on time.

Then you realize that it’s garbage day.

Now since the garbage man doesn’t come until after the sun comes up and you have to get people out the door well before that it’s likely the cans can get to the curb in time but as you are realizing it is indeed that day it dawns on you that it is also blog post day and guess what? You did not write your post.

Your choices are hope it isn’t your turn to actually write the post or wake up dear husband and hope he takes the children to school so you have to time to write, should you come up with something.

As luck would have it, it’s your turn and dear husband is willing to drive. Yeah!

Now to get an idea.

Unfortunately instead of coming up with an idea yesterday you spent the whole day paying bills, balancing checkbooks and running errands. You tackled quite a bit of your to-do list, just not that part of it.

So you get on your trusty computer and start looking but the clock is ticking then your phone rings. It’s your youngest son and you are positive he is going to say his headache won’t go away and he wants to miss even more school. You’re actually prepared to fight him on this one.

No. The car won’t start. Dead battery.

Now this poses a problem not only in getting your two teenagers to school but your youngest daughter needs to get to her college classes and she has mid-terms today.

So instead of writing you are calling to get them some help hoping it is fast enough so people aren’t too awfully late.

Then your son calls again. The car finally started.

Whew!

Now you have to pray the car stays running long enough to get all the kids where they need to go and nobody is late, and you still need to write your blog, with no ideas.

And the clock is still ticking while you are facing the very real possibility of having to drive your daughter to school. So you are trying to type some stream of thought in hopes of inspiration and still praying that dear husband will actually take daughter to school, you know since he is already in the car. Not to mention dressed.

Then the phone rings again. This time it’s your husband, only if he says anything you can’t hear him. Your daughter goes out front and checks. He’s home.

She says she’s leaving. Oh good. He did drive her.

Guess my morning is taken care of now.

I hope that’s the end of the problems today.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Trouble by Bonnie Le Hamilton

It seems I’m going through another streak of health issues one on top of another. I injured my foot, and I’m still limping, healing from that when my arm started bothering me, it seems I have a pinched nerve in my neck. And I’m having trouble getting on my computer, because I can’t raise my arm high enough to work on my computer when it’s on my table/desk. Right now, I have this balanced on my stomach, and that isn’t going to last long, this isn’t easy typing this way.

And its driving me nuts not being able to write, but this isn’t easy.

And here’s hoping everyone else is doing better than I am.

Happy writing everyone. 

The Tech Issue by Konnie Enos

Did you ever think about how much time people nowadays spend on tech? How much time they spend connected? Can you even remember what life was like before we had all this tech? What would you do if your internet went down for a day or longer?

For some reason, a couple of days ago, our internet went out. Turns out it was our phone lines completely so it wasn’t a quick easy fix. They had to send out someone. We’d already gone the whole day without being able to get on and they told us it would be late in the day the next day before a technician could get here. So two days without tech.

For me the first day had been busy enough that I didn’t really notice the problem until late in the day. (Which explains me not calling for repairs until late.) The second day was a different story.

I got up as usual and as is my normal routine I picked up my laptop. After looking at it for a moment without opening it and put it back away. What was I supposed to do on it if I couldn’t get online? At the moment I needed to do things but every last thing I needed to do required me to have a at least a minute or two of connections to check something, online.

The only other thing I could have possibly done on my computer at that time was write. The problem was I didn’t have a few hours to delve into any of my stories and I didn’t have a connection so I couldn’t surf which is how I often get inspiration for my posts.

Being limited in time, I pulled out my Kindle. Still tech, but it had things on it I could do without getting online. I could play a game, or do all the Sudoku puzzles for the day, or read a book. Oh fun and joy, I had time for all three yesterday, since I couldn’t get online, couldn’t check my emails, or banks, or prepare this post head of time since my Wednesdays are hectic.

Anyway, as I thought about all the things I couldn’t do that I would normally do each day, I realized I’m too connected. I’ve never considered myself to be addicted to tech. I certainly don’t spend most of the day surfing the net or playing video games. However, yesterday each time I reached for my laptop, I realized I did spend a great deal of time online most days.

I read some headlines, check my emails, and see what is on Facebook (way too often). But I also balance checkbooks, and do other banking transactions. I shop online. I’ve been getting ready for Christmas. I also do surveys for which I earn a small amount of money.

But what I think I do most online is contact with other writers. I’m in critique groups and I wanted to post some work for critique and couldn’t yesterday. There is also my chat groups, which fortunately I didn’t have to miss because that interaction with other writers is important.

And the biggest issue for a writer.

How are you supposed to get information to help make your writing realistic if you can’t google it?

Yes, yesterday was a frustrating day for me. It still made me feel we are way too dependent on technology. Anybody else agree with me?

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Twins in Stories by Bonnie Le Hamilton

I’m a twin. I am not just a twin, and not just an identical twin I’m a mirror twin, hence the name of this blog. I’m also a writer. As a writer, I’m supposed to write what I know.

And it’s not as if I don’t write about twins. I have twins in fifteen of my stories (technically sixteen, but they’re less predominant in book 2 of that series, and yes, it’s the same twins, more than one set even.) Fifteen, or sixteen, out of fifty, and in only one of them is the main character a twin. And in all of them, the sets of twins present in the story are younger siblings, and or nieces (excluding that second book where they are the older cousins of the heroine).

I know twins. I know what it’s like to be a twin. I don’t know what’s it’s like to be a singleton because I am a twin. That’s just part of who I am. Yet as often as I write heroines who look like me, I’ve only written one who is a twin, and that was a fraternal twin, and said twin is dead.

I’ve written, well as I said, sixteen stories with twins in them, but I don’t have their POV’s in the stories (excluding the one story). I don’t have scenes where someone mistakes them for their twin.

Okay, maybe I don’t have that, because I consider this a bit cliché. Not that I’ve actually read them, I generally don’t read beyond the blurb when I realize it’s another switched places or got-mistaken-for-the-other type of story. It’s more than a little overdone.

But how to do you write stories about twins without mixing up or switching them?

In ways it makes since writer’s who have twins in their stories follow that line, but I’m getting the feeling that’s the only thing authors think of when they write about twins.

Off the top of my head, I can think of four published books with main characters who are a twin, which doesn’t do this. In two of the ones I can think of the main character is Kit Fielding, i.e. one of Dick Francis’ characters, and Kit is a fraternal twin, so mixing up and switching places is out of the question. One is a romance where the hero’s identical twin brother is brain damaged. No way to get them mixed up, despite how much they look alike. And the fourth is “And Jacob Have I loved.” Again, not about twins switching and getting mixed up.

In other words, I feel the getting-twins-mixed-up or the twins-switching-places stories are overused, overdone, and need to be scrapped.

And that explains why I’ve never had an identical twin as a main character.

Glad I finally figured it out.

Happy writing everyone! J

Of Holiday’s and Other Memories by Konnie Enos

There are some holidays you can remember for months, even years afterwards. Then there are others that seem more like normal days and within a couple of weeks you’ve forgotten exactly what transpired. For me Labor Day falls in the latter category, generally a very forgettable day.

Generally.

To this day, thirty-eight years and counting, I still remember a good deal of what occurred the morning of Monday, September 3, 1979.

I can remember my bedroom. It was so pink. Pink walls, pink dresser, pink carpet. I even had a pink bedspread. I’ve always assumed the total pink color of the room is why I didn’t have to share with anyone. At the time I had two brothers, and though the youngest probably didn’t care, he was sharing with his older brother. I can guarantee our oldest brother wasn’t going to sleep in a pink room.

As for my two sisters, well neither one of them have ever liked pink. So yeah, I had the luxury of a whole room to myself for the first time in my life. I even had a nice big full sized bed to myself. (My siblings all had single sized beds, and roommates.)

So on this particular morning I slowly came to realize the sun was peaking over the distant mountains. I looked up for a moment noting how the cloud cover turned everything into more hues of pink. I was appreciating the view and the thought came to me that I normally didn’t have time to see it because I was getting ready for school.

Wait! School!

I very nearly jumped out of bed before I remembered it was a holiday. Sleepy me snuggled back down for some more sleep.

A few minutes later Dad appeared at my bedroom door. “Get up.”

“Why? There’s no school today.”

“To help Margo.”

“Help her with what?” Bear in mind that Dad was a pro at forcing us kids to do someone else’s chore because he thought he had the right kid doing it. I was not budging unless it really was my chore.

“Pack.”

“Pack? Why? Where is she going?”

“The hospital.”

Well that did it. I bolted up telling Dad I was coming and he could leave so I could get dressed. I finally realized my stepmother, Margo, was in labor with her second child.

To this day I don’t understand why he didn’t just come right out and tell me what was happening and why she needed help. But I also find it funny that I went from groggy still snuggled in bed to wide awake in a split second when it finally hit me.

And I did go downstairs to help her, though I don’t remember what exactly I did to help. Most women are smart enough to pack go bags well in advance so all I can think of was I gathered a few last minute items for her then helped Dad get her to the car.

It was much later, after we got to see our newest little brother that Margo told us about the funniest part of the day. You see she delivered in the same tiny hospital she worked in. Her co-workers were snickering clear through her labor about her being in labor on Labor Day.

So for me our youngest brother’s appearance into the world is a day I’ve never forgotten.

Then about nine and half months later the little squirt made Father’s Day memorable by walking, for the first time, clear across a country kitchen and into Dad’s arms. Made Dad’s day.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Stubborn by Bonnie Le Hamilton

With Labor Day right around the corner, I find my thoughts turning to a certain someone who entered this world on Labor Day many moons ago. Enough time has passed since that day that said little boy is now the father of a teenager, but when I was a junior in high school, he was the little imp I wrote the following anecdote about.

* * *

The bus pulled up in front of our house, and as I got off, I could hear Patty giggling, and Ben yelling excitedly that the bus was here, but the one I heard most was Danny’s jubilant, “De! De!”

I knew that when I opened the front door, he’d be there to greet me with the same cry as always, “Hi, De!”

Pesky stubborn old rat anyway.

Sure enough as I opened the door, he bounds off the last step and flies into my arms, loaded down with books, and nearly toppling me over. “Hi, De,” is all he says as he gives me a great big hug and kiss.

“Dan, I love you, but I’m not De!” Then I gladly hand him over to the girl behind me.

Why don’t I ever come in the garage door, so Konnie can get attacked?

Danny gives Konnie the identical greeting, but he’s not satisfied. Five minutes later, he wants a drink and can’t find anyone who isn’t busy? So what does he do? Simple, he picks up his cup and trots in the living room, where I’m on the couch reading, and tugging on my pant leg, begs, “De, De, dink, peas.” And he shoves the cup up to me.

This time I get smart. “Konnie, Danny wants you to get him a drink.”

But to no avail. When Konnie tries to get him, and the cup, into the kitchen, he pulls away and, pointing to me, yells, “No, dat De!”

Dag blain brat anyway!

“All right, I’ll get it. But I’m not Konnie!”

This still isn’t the end for today. When Ben comes in my room to tell me Mom wants me to peel potatoes, he’s right behind Ben calling, “De.”

This isn’t her room.

“Just a second, Ben.” I ignore Danny.

All through dinner, he calls everyone by the name he uses for them after someone else says their name.

“Pass the potatoes please, Bonnie.”

“De, De, De.”

“Pass the Kool-Aid please, Bryon.”

“Be, Be, Be.”

“Hand me the beans please, Konnie.”

“De, De, De.”

If I recall correctly, when Ben was Danny’s age, he could tell us apart, he just couldn’t talk. I’m not sure I’m glad Danny can hear.

* * *

J Anyway, Happy birthday, Dan. I love you. And I’m glad you finally learned my name.

Happy writing everyone. J