Tag: dreams

feelings

love child

abby mumford

i’ve decided that if i could be anyone when i grow up, i want to be the spawn of LINDSEY LEAVITT and JANDY NELSON. well, to be precise, i want my writing to be a combination of the two. think of the amazeballs books i’d produce if jandy’s luscious and vivid prose + lindsey’s startling and hilarious life lessons = MY WRITING.

i’ve still got time to grow, right?

although, if that dream doesn’t work out, i wouldn’t mind becoming a chef so that i could make myself a different type of pizza every day. and i also assume my taste buds would be more worldly thus removing the embarrassment of having to say, “eww, spinach? broccoli? mushrooms? pineapple?” so perhaps what i need here is for my taste buds to hit maturity rather than my cooking skills.

if you could be anyone or anything but yourself when you grow up, who would you be?

feelings

the princess & the space shuttle

abby mumford

i was trolling through twitter looking for blog ideas. adriana suggested i write more book reviews, which triggered an idea, but before i could get into the office to write that post that idea was obliterated.

let’s back up a minute. once upon a time…

*the sun rises* *an alarm clock screams* *abby wakes to an overcast, but not yet rainy, day*

somehow, despite the gloomy morning and late bedtime the previous night, i manage to finish my morning routine 20 minutes ahead of schedule. (i know! great day, right?) i skip out the door and head to the bus stop. i’m almost there when i see the shuttle pull up (note: i like to call it the shuttle because it makes me think i’m boarding a spaceship and isn’t that infinitely more interesting than a bus? yup, i work on mars.) so i’m at the intersection and have the stop lights working for me, but still, the shuttle revs its jet engine and i’m forced to make a mad dash (frogger style) across the street.

i catch it.

as i hop on, i see the little girl who’s often on the same bus. she looks at me, grins, and turns to her father. “look, it’s the princess.”

her father laughs. “i guess you’re a princess,” he says.

“only on thursdays,” i say.

this little girl, who is between the ages of two and three, and i, we’ve never spoken, only exchanged smiles, so i’m not sure where she got this idea from. but hey, who am i to argue? if i can take a space shuttle to work, then her imagination’s allowed to place me amongst the stars.

feelings

indulgence

abby mumford

a birthday. my birthday. coming soon. i can’t avoid it, so all that’s left to do is embrace it.

*hugs*

yeah, so today, on the eve of my 30th birthday, i’m going to keep this short. i’m not going to wax eloquent about leaving one decade (my 20s) and entering another (my 30s). i’m not going to whine about getting older. nor am i going to brag about how i really am still quite young. i am, however, going to share these with you:

looks like not much has changed in 30 years, except for the fact that i can’t sit like that anymore. in fact, looking at those pictures makes my hamstrings hurt.

ANYWAYS, there’s one little thing i need you to do. one little question i need you to answer…

what is your favorite post from my blog?

that’s it. that’s all you have to answer. dear readers, this is cake. so easy! it won’t take long. consider it your present to me. and don’t forget, i know who you are. i know where you live. i just may come find you if you don’t answer. it may not be tomorrow. it may be today. or a week from now. or later this year, but i will haunt you. you know what a scary thought that is. i know you don’t want to live with the fear that i’ll be just around the corner waiting, watching, ready to pounce, so spare yourself and just answer me now.

indulge me, won’t you?

(oops, that was two questions. looks like turning 30 hasn’t help my math skills.)

(just to be clear: today’s not my birthday. tomorrow is. JANUARY 8. learn it. know it. love it.)

(yes, i share a birthday with elvis. no, i can’t swivel my hips like he does. guess i’ll have to find my fame and fortune another way.)

feelings

fountain of inspiration?

abby mumford

i’ve reached a point where i think it’s time to address a long running fear of mine. i think we’re ready for that, oh dear blog reader. so, this fear of mine? it’s a fear of no new inspiration on what to write next.

my current WIP has a character that deals with things i understand explicitly. those things might be irrational, but she feels them and i feel them and as a result, writing this was a bit like therapy. the thought of starting a new piece with new characters completely unrelated to me is startling and confusing. i feel like i’ve been plopped down in a foreign country and i’m the only one who speaks English.

it seems like people are always talking about this dream they had that triggered that massive selling book, or even a mildly selling book. i have a lot of dreams, but none of them are publishing worthy. i wonder if it’s because i dream in the first person. i dream about situations i am in. and yet, so far, everything i’ve written has been in the third person. perhaps. just perhaps, i’ve been looking at my dreams from the wrong angle.

all i know is that i had a dream, a horrifying dream, last night that involved lava and cages and me and children i was responsible for and no way out. is this the sign of the apocalypse? or that i’ve spent too much time following Eyjafjallajokul on Twitter? or could this be a scene from my next novel? or could this be, plain and simple, just a dream?

dream or not. first person or not. you see, i have a hard time getting to know my characters. it seems unfair to pluck one character trait out of my imagination and force it onto someone. yet, that’s kind of what (i feel like) i have to do because (so far) i’ve never been one who “has the characters speak to me”. it’s never like i’m “channeling the story that the character had to tell”. i have to think and process and plot every sentence that i write, whether it’s dialogue, narrative, or something in between.

maybe it’s a sign i need more work as a writer. maybe it’s a sign i’m a one and done-r. maybe it’s a sign my fountain of inspiration is drying up. or, it might be that my map leading me to the next well is outdated and the path has grown over with weeds. since i’m dehydrated and without a weed wacker, it makes sense i’d feel a bit timid.

(ok, terrified.)

how come words can flow out of one person, while numbers can inspire another? how come i seem to be nowhere on that bell curve, that graph, that chart? how can i claw my way there? better yet, how can i find a new muse?

general

the point. the purpose.

abby mumford

what is the point and the purpose of this blog? i’m writing it so YOU (whoever that may be) can get to know more about me.  so i have a forum to rant and rave about whatever strikes my fancy. to wax poetically about life lessons. or rather, to wax on and wax off. to work on my writing and develop my writing habits. (both clearly need a lot of work). to practice putting myself out there. to give myself a deadline to stick to (one post a week). to pass along tidbits of news or articles that i found funny, illuminating, ridiculous, or smart. to be a little self indulgent. to work through the self-doubt that comes with being a writer or really, doing anything creative. to get to know myself. to document my process from semi-adulthood to FULL adulthood (and i’m hoping that’ll actually happen). to figure out what post will get the most views. to join the 21st century. to give my long distance family and friends another way to know me (and they can read this on their own time).

i also HOPE that someday, once/when/IF my writing career takes off, i’ll be able to turn my blog into one of those “i’m a published writer, let’s talk about what works for me”. or a “this is how i felt when i signed with my agent”. i love those blogs. seriously. i’ve come across so many good ones. like this one. or this one. or this one and this one’s great. this one is very educational. as is this one. i have blog envy of this one because even though i’m not a mom nor am i married, her words are gorgeous and i treasure each word as if it was a hershey’s kiss slowly melting in my mouth.

but what i’d REALLY like is this: since i’m introducing myself to you every post, i’d like YOU to do the same. who are my readers? who are YOU? write a little something about yourself in the comments so i can get to know YOU as well as you know ME. even if YOU tell me in passing conversation when YOU see me that you read it all the time. or even if you’re related to me. i want YOU to comment. kthxbai.