Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Team Writing

When you are just a few words away from hitting 45,000 words and want to get there fast, enlist the help of your husband. Magic will happen:

Miss Farley sniffed. “He did—though through letters from a supposed ‘Aunt Eleanor.’ He offered me twenty quid for every bit of gossip I could procure. I refused, of course!”
And then, Darth Vader beamed into the room and strangled Emile with his dark force!
“GAaaack,” he wheezed through the death grip.
“Give me a cupcake if you want to live!” Darth Vader intoned.
Just as he was about to die, Thor flew in with his might hammer and golden locks, and said, “Darth, I am your father!”
He hammered his head off, and it was gross—all over the rug.
The pursuit of the terrorists continued.
That’s when Thor turned to Madeline. “The black plague has taken almost the whole community. I no longer believe in God.”
“Thor, you are a God!” Madeline exclaimed, clutching her bonnet.
“S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t think so,” Thor said, poutily, his red cape flowing in the Victorian zephyr.
I'm pretty sure this passage will secure me a book deal.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

New Phone New Phone

After dropping my red little "Rant" one too many times, the screen broke and I had to live with the white screen of death for a few days while Nathan came to terms with signing another two year contract with Sprint so we could upgrade our phones.

The "Rant"--always reminded me of Lindsay Lohan for some reason.

Behold, the replacement. The Sanyo SCP-2700:

I never text, "C U 2nite." Shudder.

This wannabe Blackberry beauty is fun. What makes it so fun, you ask? Let me tell you. It's not the useful keyboard, or the moody dark blue I love, or even that the screen works. Here's why the Sanyo SCP-2700 is the coolest phone I have (at least until Nathan gets me the iPhone of my lustful dreams).

1. The Ring Tones. I have so many to choose from--all in addition to the classics like "Asian Bell" and "Ring Tone 7" (don't we all just love "Ring Tone 7"?) There's "Luxury Time" that's just begging for a Beyonce voice-over. And what about "Invisible Emotion" (as opposed to that visible emotion that floats around our faces like mist) ... I'm pretty sure it was thisclose to being the backup beat to a TLC song. But my personal favorite is "Gloomy DJ." I can just see him in the club, recently dumped but showing up to work anyway because he's devoted to the music--but he's down, he's depressed, he's ... gloomy. Like a little rain cloud he conjures fat beats and scratches wicky wickies. And then I answer the phone and talk to my mom. Except my mom hates calling people on the phone so I probably talk to someone else.

2. This isn't really about the phone, but it's in the phone, so it's pertinent. Apparently I put Cinnabon in my contacts list when I lived a few blocks away from them in Seattle. I would call them right before they closed (usually when the craving struck) to make sure they had one left for me to come buy. I would beg them not to close and then rush across the freeway to secure that Mother Theresa of all buns. Then one time I went there with Nathan while we were dating and they recognized me as "the girl who always calls ahead." Gah.

I would date this.

3. Something else in my phonebook: "Computer KASS." This was the computer-automated phone system that would call me at six in the morning to see if I was willing to substitute teach that day. Too bad after substituting three times (once each in kindergarten, middle school, and high school) I decided that I hate children, education, and doing anything while pregnant.

Graham and Nate laughing at a blonde joke.

So that was more about my phonebook than about my phone ... but really, the phone is pretty average. It calls people. It rings when people call me. It has a little Gloomy DJ living inside it, crying.

Thursday, September 15, 2011


Tonight I played soccer for the first time since having Graham.

My touch was off.

My lungs were burning.

My legs were weak.

My joints were loose.

My knees are bleeding.

I scored a goal.

It was awesome.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Writing Tips for the Bump on a Log Inside

1. Exercise. I'm currently in a health competition with some family members, so I've been exercising a lot lately. Partly for prize money, but mostly for the sake of the poor jeans I've been squeezing my motherly thighs into. Guess what has been increasing along with my max number of push-ups (currently about eleven ... sheepish). My number of words written a day! My brain feels better and I feel more motivated in all areas when I exercise.

No more lounging in my sherpa boots! Jillian would kill me.

2. Rachel Portman station on Pandora. Excellent soundtrack for my historical novel. Find the soundtrack to what you're writing and play it while you work. It keeps me focused and inspired.

Rachel looks like a writer. Mus be the cardigan.

3. The "Don't Stop" Rule. I feel one of the biggest hurdles I face while writing is my tendency to write a sentence ... hit a blank ... and then go surf the internet for ten minutes because I "deserve a break." It's ridiculous and fueled in part by my silly desire to have a perfect first draft, and also in part by my lazy and easily distracted nature. Worst distractions: Facebook and blogs (two great literary agent blogs, by the way: pubrants.blogspot.com and bookendslitagency.blogspot.com). Lately I've been self-enforcing the "Don't Stop" rule ... meaning I don't stop writing. I worry more about getting it down instead of how I'm getting it down. That's what my second draft is for. This is really helping me move along in my first draft, it increases my confidence that I can get it done, and sometimes what comes out of my head, unrevised, isn't so bad after all.

NOT the soundtrack to my novel.

4. Having a set time to write. While I don't keep this religiously by any means, I try to write from 8-9pm. Nathan has graciously agreed to help me set aside this time, and that helps a lot. Waiting until I have absolute free time to write meant never writing. Yes, there are dishes in the sink (smelling pleasantly like curry coconut shrimp), but I'm 1,500 words closer to being J.K. Rowling. Ha!

Coolest watch I ever owned. My parents gave it to me for my birthday. They put it on my wrist while I was sleeping and I didn't notice until I was eating breakfast. Nathan won't let me buy a replacement online for $20. Boo. Actually, he just told me to think about it for a couple days. Here is the link in case I forget.

5. Concept Map. I made these in eighth grade biology--they are basically a visual representation of your subject (my novel, in this case). Seeing the whole plot laid out in front of me helps get me excited about the scope of my work, see holes and opportunities in my plot, and plan future scenes.

What helps you write?

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Carbonated Pasta

Allergies are grating my throat and purging my sinuses ... so nothing brilliant here today.

Random Thoughts:

Poor Graham has a little cold and I'm feeling guilty that he may have given it to his little friend Heidi.

When I hear the words "pasta carbonara," I can't help but think of pasta with a bubbly sauce. I imagine pasta that tastes like Pop Rocks, but without the crunch.

I love things that make me happy (duh). Like this fabric, for example.

It's Kaffe Fassett's Paperweights in Cobalt. I used it to make Graham's baby carrier. Or rather, my baby carrier that I use to carry Graham.

Babywearing Fashion

Every time I start considering putting more time/energy/money  into what I wear I come across a scripture about the fashionable ways of the wicked. So I use that as an excuse to continue wearing nothing but t-shirts from high school, old jeans, and flip flops (from JCrew! I'm turning into a Zoramite!).

I want to be this woman. She's spicy, intelligent, and the wife of my favorite writing teacher. She read some of my writing once, and I'm sad to say that if the material I gave her had a body, it would be an angsty teenager's body, wrapped in used Kleenex, a copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul clutched tightly in its black-nailed fist. I want to take her (Louise, not the teenager body) to lunch and learn her secrets of awesomeness.

I need these shoes:

I'm small I know but wherever I go the book deals come all day.

Also, last night I had a dream about an old homeroom teacher slash boy's varsity soccer coach. I was in his class in 8th grade ten years ago when Alex Bylund, the news junkie of the group, announced that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.

I'm convinced this is no longer just allergies. The pill I took three hours ago has had no effect. I believe Graham and I are suffering the effects of the same race of bug. I've discovered that flannel burp rags are a great alternative to handkerchiefs--much softer and with fun baby-themed prints to cheer me in my weakened state.

Off to eat some soup dear husband brewed for me in the microwave.

Friday, September 9, 2011


The MBAA (MBA Association) opening social was last night at Rock Canyon Park in Provo. A sign at the bottom of the park said "MBAA at top pavilion." So we went to the toppest pavilion we saw. A crowd of obviously BYU students were milling about, eating BBQ food.

Nathan: I don't see anyone I know. Are you sure the second years were invited?

Kimber: Yeah, and what's with the only soda available being caffeinated Dr. Pepper, caffeinated Mt. Dew, and Sprite? What kind of school do you go to? (caffeine=darkest sin)

Nathan: Seriously.

So we grab one of the few remaining Sprites and decide to set up camp next to a friendly-looking couple before we grab burgers.

Nathan (addressing couple): I've learned my lesson enough times to ask which one of you is in the program.

Man (smiles): I am.

Nathan: Are you a first year or second year?

Man: Second year.

Nathan: Which track?

Man: Uhhh, what?

Nathan: Which track are you? (the MBA program has several different emphases to choose from)

Man: (confused look)

Kimber: We might not be at the right party. Is this the MBA social?

Man: No, this is the construction management party. The MBA party is up the hill.

Nathan and Kimber: Ohhhhhhhhhh. Well, thanks for the Sprite.

Kimber (once we are out of earshot, judgmentally): That explains all the caffeinated soda.

Because we all know people in construction are coarse and caffeinated!! Bah.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Yes, Get Rid of the Postal Service


Two reasons. Two pieces of mail, specifically. They were both lurking like toads in my mailbox yesterday.

1. A notice reminding us to renew the registration on our car = inevitably safety check fail = $$$

2. A ticket from running a photo-enforced red light = $$$


Ready to forgive, I went back to the mailbox today. What did I find? Ads.

Die, USPS, die!

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Awww Man

The blog, once again, has been neglected like an ugly old hamster owned by an ADD child. I hope that metaphor rings as true with you as it did with me. The child loves the hamster, yes, but does he feed it? No. Then the hamster dies and becomes "saucy" and is buried in a neighbor's yard, its grave marked by a Sharpie'd piece of cardboard. Semi-true story.

Not related to my hamster metaphor in any way, but you all come here to see pictures of Graham, right?

I've been having some blog-stalker moments. No, don't worry, no one's stalking me. I'm not that cool of a blogger. But I am that cool of a stalker! Let me explain.

Please, Mother, explain!

Last weekend Nathan, Graham, and I visited Nathan's brother and his new esposa in Washington, D.C. As in, the home of this awesome blogger who inspires stroller/fashion/food/hair-envy in me. Her little baby girl is just a few days older than Graham, so naturally they'll get married and Graham will have some really awesome in-laws. Anyway, we were also there because Nathan was presenting a paper at an engineering conference that weekend. The rest of his lab would be staying at a hotel downtown and attending church at ... the Capitol Hill Ward ... potentially the ward of the stalkee!!

Look! I'm a Nephite!

Would I see her at church? Sit in the pew behind her and let Graham charm her daughter with his two-toothed smile? Discreetly touch the sleeve of her boutique vintage blouse and be instantly healed of both my seasonal allergies and my addiction to basketball shorts? One could only hope.

Mom just gives me this old toothbrush to chew on.

Then this stupid thing called Hurricane Irene happened. And church was cancelled.

Psh, stupid hurricane.

So I'm still wearing t-shirts and dressing my baby in second-hand clothing (not even thrifted, people, I got his whole wardrobe for free!). I'm still sneezing and not wearing mascara because it's harder to rub/itch my eyes with makeup on. I'm still frumping it up in Provo.

And loving it.

Because of these fellows: