Library of Congress

One of my goals for vacation was to get a reader card for the Library of Congress. Guess what? I got one. And so did my daughter.

Here's the ceiling of the Reading Room.

Here's the Reading Room.

I'm perusing the second story stacks, which were amazing. I saw lots of books I could use in my novel research.

My daughter loved it and said, "I could live here."

This is one of the public areas of the Library of Congress.

After visiting, I have to say that the LoC is the most amazing library that I have ever visited. I thought it would be great, but it was better. 

If you're planning a visit, you don't have to have a reader card. You can get a lovely tour and even see into the reading room. If you do want a reading card, you have to apply at the James Madison building. And you have to give a reason for needing a card, they don't issue them for souvenir purposes. 

And now, back to real life.

Vacation, Part 2

More Washington, D. C., vacation fun.

A friend recommended that we go to the National Museum of the Marine Corps. I'd never heard of it, but the friend highly recommended it (it was free) so we went.

It was a fantastic museum. It told the history of the American Marine Corp. But it also taught us so much history. I learned so much more about World War I,WW2, the Korean War, Vietnam, etc. And I came away with a profound respect for those who gave their lives--yet the museum did so without glorifying war. The cost was evident.

The museum was amazingly interactive, plus they had real footage, maps, artifacts, etc.

If you're interested in visiting, it's in Quantico, VA.

Here are some photos.

                      The museum is modeled after the design of the Iwo Jima Memorial.

Here's a type of armored cannon. 

Here's one of the first machine guns.

Here we're learning about the Battle of Belleau Wood.

This is the first armored car.

This is an I-beam from the World Trade Center. I remember looking across Long Island Sound and watching the smoke rise from towers.

National Zoo

Yesterday we had a great time at the National Zoo. Here are some photos. (If you get a chance to go, it's free and completely worth your time. Parking is pricey though.)

The lion was actually roaring. What an amazing sound! You can hear it all the way on the other side of the zoo.

Baby gorilla. His parents are just off photo, watching over him.

This was in the aviary. The bird was only inches from me.

Hot and tired after a long zoo trip

There's nothing like taking little ones to see wild animals for the first time.

Contemplation.

DIY Kitchen, part 3

On Monday, Cal and I painted the walls. Yesterday while Cal ran errands (including getting Jacob his driver's license, credit card, checking account, and registering to vote), I painted trim. Yeah, I know, we really know how to "vacation." Here's the result.


I took these photos with a flash, so the color looks a shade lighter--but during the afternoon, the light is so intense, the paint does look royal blue. In the morning and evening, the color looks navy blue. I love the fact that the character of the room changes based on the time of day and lighting.

 Thus far in our kitchen update.

1. Replace windows (they leaked).

2. Refinish cabinets.

3. Paint walls and trim.

Next up, tile behind the stove for a backsplash. Our plan is to use one real Delft tile and surround it with smaller white tiles.

I'm also going to repaint my office the same colors after the sequel to Screwing Up Time is published.

Shakespeare Photos

We're going to be on vacation for the next two weeks, so my posts might be sporadic. But here are some photos to enjoy from Shakespeare performances.

The Lovers: Benedick (Jacob) and Beatrice: "Come, come. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably."

& Hero and Claudio (Matthew): "Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. If I were a little happy, I could say how much."



The Happy Couple. "Didst thou note the daughter of Signor Leonato?"


Benedick: "For which one of my bad parts did you first love me?"
Beatrice: "For all of them together. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?"



"If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory can be ours, for we are the only love gods."



"For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion! Come, let us have a dance 'ere we are married so we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels."

Editing for Modern Writers

I think most people know what writing looks like--an author stares into space, mutters/gestures, and types. But when the first draft is over, the editing begins. This is what editing is like. At least, this is what it's like for me. So if you’d like to look over my shoulder, here’s Editing 101.

Text:  “My heart pounded.”

Me: Ugh. Cliché. This needs to be deleted entirely. Oh, wait, I can’t. It’s a physiologic response to time travel. Some reader will remember this from book one and email me if I leave it out.

Text (unchanged): “My heart pounded.”

Me: Okay. Let’s expand it. This is a pivotal moment and a chapter ending. So I should stretch the sentence, make the reader linger over the sentence to give it gravitas. I should…add a simile.

Text: “My heart pounded like….”

Me: Like a what? A drum—cliché. A kettle drum—synonym cliché. Delete “like.” Let’s try a physical cue.

Text: “My heart pounded so fast it burned for oxygen.”

Me: Do people know that if your heart beats too fast, you get chest pain because it beats less efficiently? Better yet, would my main character know this? His dad’s a doctor…would they discuss this over dinner? No. His dad is a psychiatrist. More likely they’d discuss projection responses—and my MC would zone out anyway.

Text: “My heart…”

Me: Try a synonym for “pounded.”

Text: “My heart hammered/thumped/thrashed/beat.”

Me: YUCK! Time to clear my mind, feeling emptiness, listening to nothing, and waiting for the muse….clearly, the muse has been booked by other writers.

Text: “My heart…”

Me (Time for a new approach): I imagine my heart beating painfully fast in my chest, hoping that reverse biofeedback doesn’t work. I feel the pressure in my chest. The tingling in my fingers. The roar of blood in my ears. “My heart…nothing…

Me: At this point, if I were Hemingway or Fitzgerald, I’d down a shot of bourbon. But I’m not...Instead, I click a link to see if any of my friends have posted on Facebook.

Cone of Silence

Absolute quiet. (Except for the ticking of the clock and the click of our Lab Jezebel’s nails against the wood floor.) Never, ever is our house absolutely quiet. With six adults living here and their crazy schedules, someone is always in a hurry to go somewhere. But today after my husband went to work, everyone else went to Shakespeare rehearsals—two sons are acting, the other two kids are coaches/stage managers.

So I now have four, almost five hours of utter quiet. I’m going to edit. I’m working on the last changes to the sequel to Screwing Up Time. After I make these last few changes, I have one more read through and then a proofread.

I’ve never written/edited in quiet before. I’ve always been a snatch a minute here and there kind of person. I write during music lessons, while cooking dinner, etc. It’s strange to listen to the quiet. To notice that my laptop makes a quiet hum. That my nails tap against the keys. I can even hear myself swallow and breathe.

Will I hear my characters better in the quiet? I can’t wait to find out. My kids would say it doesn’t matter what the noise level is—once the writer’s bubble is engaged, I’m shut off from the world. (It’s kind of like the Cone of Silence in Get Smart.) Once I enter the world of make-believe, nothing else exists. They can ask for just about anything and my answer is “Uh-huh.” And I have no recollection of the conversation. In fact, I used to wonder if I was being scammed. For example, I’d emerge from the bubble when sweat began to roll down my face in February. I’d check the thermostat, and it read 94. My eyes would bulge and smoke would pour my ears and I’d find the culprit. Usually Jacob. I’d be ready to read him the Riot Act. But all four kids would say, “Mom, you said we could turn up the heater to 94 degrees.” (I keep the thermostat set at 67, which I think is generous. But since the circulation in our 70+ year old house is poor, our bedroom is known as the Ice Pit because you can see your breath during the winter. When we watch movies in our bedroom, the kids swathe themselves in blankets with only their eyes peeking out.)

So now, that’s all about to change. The question is can I write/edit in silence?

What about you? Do you prefer quiet or noise when you write?

Here’s the Cone of Silence from Get Smart.