My female creative writing teacher at NOCCA once told us about a writer who had to write ten pages a day. Even on Christmas. With a wife and kids.

One classmate went “Wow” in respect and awe. And I think that was the kind of reaction she wanted, because why else tell a story of extreme dedication to a group of young writers?

But part of me frowned, contorted in discomfort, and thought, “What about his family?”

Family is second only to God for me. And God requires that we love others, that we honor our parents and spouses above ourselves and our desires. And Ms. G’s story was tailor-made to turn me off.

Family, even if it’s not a biological family but one that you make for yourself, must come before yourself. That man was a moron to ignore his family on Christmas in order to write. A. Huge. Moron. And a few words on paper, even if they’re the best words ever written, aren’t worth giving up the important moments in life. They aren’t worth ignoring the people you claim to love.

NaNoWriMo: Write 50,000 words from November 1-30.
Story: Deathlock

I gave up on hitting the 50,000 word mark early last week because I hit a snag in the story and I got all my birthday presents and wanted to play with them. I managed to get 18,211 words (36 pages, single-spaced), which is still pretty good. I’m sad I didn’t make the deadline, but I have discovered that I’m a sprinter, not a marathon runner. I can do lots of writing all at once and then have a dry spell for several weeks, just mulling the story over in my head. I need to learn to take full advantage of these sprinting periods, though. I don’t always.

Something I did notice is that people who write a lot don’t necessarily write well. I read an excerpt by a girl I don’t know at all, who stayed ahead of me in word count the entire month, and realized that even though she was “winning,” her excerpt was badly written because it was too wordy — it suffocated me with description.

My story has shorter paragraphs and quick dialogue. I’ve even pared down a paragraph or two because it needed it, forget word count.

So I guess, in the general sense, I’m a winner too. Not of the contest — no, I won a brand new 18,211 words that didn’t exist last month. 18,211 well written words.

Well, most of them. ^_^

Every now and then, something comes along that people get up in arms about. For example, some Christians were really anti-Harry Potter because of the magic and, more recently, because of the creepy tidbit about Dumbledore.

Obviously, if magic bothered me I wouldn’t be writing. And if the books contain hints so vague about Dumbledore’s gender preferences that I didn’t even notice them, so what? The books are more than whether or not the wise old mentor used to wear flamboyant purple suits.

Tunnel vision that refuses to see anything but the problem really bothers me, because the people who have tunnel vision often refuse to acknowledge anything positive, as if praise would make them a traitor to their own cause. They aren’t “convicted” if they bend even the littlest bit. And that way of thinking can grow to be very dangerous, especially if it morphs into a hatred of other people.

But you do have to step back and decide whether or not to support things. Even with Harry Potter, I made a choice, to support the book in spite of its flaws. I may not read them to my kids as early as I would have, but I still think the books are worthwhile.

The Golden Compass is the first in the His Dark Materials trilogy, written by Philip Pullman. Pullman has stated clearly on his website that “if [God] is keeping out of sight, it’s because he’s ashamed of his followers and all the cruelty and ignorance they’re responsible for promoting in his name. If I were him, I’d want nothing to do with them.” He is powerful and well-respected in the atheist community and has publicly stated that His Dark Materials is a rebuttal against the “religious propaganda” of C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia.

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This is my favorite poem that I’ve written. Please note that I’m thinking of the zombies in “Resident Evil” and “Shaun of the Dead” and pretty much any zombie movie, which infect you through biting. (Some people assume biting is a vampire trademark, which it is, but zombies have biting rights too, thankyouverymuch.) Also, Searcy is the town where we went to college.

Undead Devotion
by EA Blevins

I woke up
convinced
that every Searcy-man
and -woman
was a zombie.
You lurched to get me the milk;
I told you, Honey,
if you’re bitten (now
or ever), tell me
and I’ll get bitten too.
Because whether
we’re picking produce in the grocery store
or ripping the flesh from our neighbors’ bones,
I want to do it together.

I’m a low-maintenance girl. Growing up, as long as I got the newest book by my favorite author, I was happy. (At least as happy as a teenager could be, with all those hormones making me cranky.)

These days, now that I’m “free” to do what I want, I don’t even go shopping unless I’m visiting my mom down south (so . . . once a year).

You see, when I was young, my family worked off of a preacher’s salary, which paid the bills, and whatever my mom could make from her BeautiControl job. I never regretted coming from a modest home, and I never envied people richer than me. I had everything I needed in life — loving parents, a couple of cats, a brother I idolized, and relatives who doted on me.

I’ve always had the things you can’t buy. And over the years, I’ve only gotten more thankful for them.

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