Obligatory Fangirl Squealing

First off, before I start, a MASSIVE fangirly “Thank you” goes out to my big brother and his family for loaning me their seldom-used VCR. Because of their generosity, I was not forced to choose between new episodes of Grimm and the final six episodes of Nikita, a decision that would have wounded my poor heart.

Now, on to business:

Soooo, a few interesting things have happened on TV since I last posted. And by “a few” I actually mean “a lot.” And by “interesting” I actually mean “OMG, is this the best season of television ever????”

Castle continues to rock Castle and Beckett’s relationship with style, always finding new issues to explore between the two of them so that things never get stale. The death penalty episode was intense, and the 3XK ep with the dead Esposito and Lanie look-a-likes was downright chilling. My favorite of the bunch, though, was the one about a dying man who staggers into a church and hands over an adorable baby before collapsing. Castle and Beckett changing a diaper together? Consider my heart officially captured.

Over on Beauty and the Beast, the conflict rose to new heights when a very pretty female beast entered the picture. The addition of Tori was a great way to keep things fresh and add a little more girl power to the show. Vincent is bugging the crap out of me right now with this whole beasts vs. humans shtick, making Gabe look more and more attractive (not that Gabe really needs help in that department). Gabe’s continued honesty and devotion to Cat – not to mention his knock-a-girl-to-the-floor handsomeness – are making it awfully hard not to root for a Gabe/Cat hookup. And speaking of hook-ups, did JT and Tess really lock lips? Interesting. Not sure yet if there’s chemistry, but it was definitely a cute moment between two unlucky-in-love characters. Can’t wait to see how the group’s dynamics change now that Cat’s father has officially gone down and Cat actually – gasp – shot Vincent in the process…

Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD had great fun with one of its special box office tie-in eps, an exciting romp about humans with objects they shouldn’t have, and a non-violent Asgardian on Earth. (I love that actor, too, so I’m super-glad they didn’t kill him off). The surprising May-Ward hook-up at the end was just one example of the wild curve balls this show likes to throw. We had some laugh-out-loud male bonding scenes in the ep where Fitz and Ward infiltrate enemy lines together, and numerous jaw-dropping, holy crap! moments in the thrilling mid-season finale. I still can’t believe the Centipede people took Coulson! And right after that, pretty much everybody and everything exploded! Talk about the mother of all cliffhangers… 🙂 No, actually, I’ll save that distinction for Supernatural’s winter finale.

Speaking of which: OMG. Seriously – O.M.G. That is the only way I can describe the most recent ep of Supernatural. It left me lying on the floor with my guts scooped out. Cannot believe they actually killed Kevin. Sweet, beloved Kevin. That final image of him is burned into my head in the worst way, proving that this show is once again at its very best. Metatron, an angel I still liked, even after he deceived Castiel, is now numero uno on my hit list. He will suffer and die for killing the prophet he was supposed to protect. Gadreel will die, too, but he doesn’t need to suffer quite so much – he seems like one of those lower-intelligence, easily manipulated angels. I still blame him for his appalling actions, but not as much as I blame Old Meta-Evil.

Shame that the highlights of this show usually tend to be the must soul-wrenching moments. It’s not always true, though, and before we had the wonderful awfulness of the winter finale, we got some true gems in the form of a born-again virgin episode with Sheriff Mills, and my absolute hands-down favorite episode of the season so far – an emotional, flash-back peppered ep about Dean’s stay at a boys home when he was fifteen. That ep, more than any other, will give me the strength to keep watching through the painful aftermath of Kevin’s death.

Chicago Fire is a good show to watch after Supernatural, because all the action and drama are a nice distraction from having your heart torn out. CF hasn’t had a single dip in quality yet, and I expect more of the same when it returns in January. The network’s continued faith in this “little show that turned big” makes me smile. They’re even giving it a spin-off now, focusing on the police side of the story. Way to go, NBC! 🙂 Lots of excitement in November and the first part of December, from political drama to roommate dilemmas to long-lost sisters, racial tensions, and rekindled romances. This show knows how to bring it in every way possible, and I am so totally hooked. The fact that they had a wonderful Severide-centered episode was chocolate frosting on an already delicious cake. I am a Severide girl, through and through, and watching him work so hard and long – by himself – to save that boy was enough to make this fangirl’s heart sprout wings and lift off into the sky.

Coming back down to Earth, I have to admit I haven’t been loving Elementary quite so much this season. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s still must-see TV and everything, but it just felt like something was missing. Sure we got some stellar eps here and there, including a gem focusing on Captain Gregson (adore him) and his troubled marriage. Overall, though, it just didn’t have the same feel as Season One, and I didn’t know why until the recent, gripping episode which detailed the events leading up to Detective Bell’s shooting.

And it dawned on me – that’s what’s been missing: an arc. Something to string the episodes together into a cohesive whole. Something to prevent Season Two from being a mish-mash of barely-related to totally-unrelated stand-alone stories. Sherlock’s road to recovery, and the Moriarty storyline, did this for Season One. And now we have the much-needed arc for Season Two: the fallout from Bell’s shooting. Sherlock’s guilt. Bell’s struggle for recovery. Gregson and Watson caught in the middle between these two characters. This storyline made me sit up straight and take notice. It made me excited to see what happens in the next episode. It gave new breath and life to Season Two, and I’m happily falling back in love with one of my favorite shows.

If there’s one show you can’t accuse of not having an arc, it’s good old Grimm. Try multiple season-long arcs, intricately interwoven. Nick’s still rocking the zombie powers, Hank has happily ditched the crutches and is back knee-deep in the action, and Monroe and Rosalie are so cute it should almost be outlawed. Having Juliette and Nick back together this season is also a bonus that adds a big old dose of happy to my Friday nights. Couple that with a delightfully different episode featuring mer-people, a really bad-@$$ old lady on neighborhood watch patrol, and a freaky exorcism, and, to quote several McDonald’s commercials, I’m loving it. 🙂

To make my Friday nights even more awesome, one of my all-time favorite shows, Nikita, returned on November 22nd with both fists swinging. As I sit there watching movie-quality explosions, quiet moments of unresolved feelings between Nikita and Michael, sparks flying between Alex and Sam, and a whole slew of girls kicking butt, I can’t help but wonder – for the millionth time and counting – why the CW is canceling one of the most stellar shows on TV. Seriously, what brain-sucking amoeba infected the top dogs at that network and made them say, “Hey, let’s cancel Nikita?” It’s one of those sad cases where a brilliant show is dumped in the world’s most heinous time-slot, and then left there to rot. Most people don’t know that Nikita even exists, never mind that they’re missing out on something spectacular by not watching it. **Sigh** But at least we got six final episodes, and so far, I’m the exact opposite of disappointed. I long for Nikita and Michael to find their way back to each other, for Sam to be redeemed, for Amanda to get what’s coming to her, and for all of our heroes to get the happy endings they deserve. Only two eps remain for all this to happen, and my fingers are crossed like pretzels.

And now we come to The Mentalist. Which, if I’m being honest, is probably the one most worth talking about, simply because of the dramatic changes taking place all across the board. Since I last posted, Patrick Jane identified Red John, murdered him, and fled the country. The CBI closed down, and two YEARS passed. (Time jumps – especially unexpected ones – always throw me like a football). Jane spent the time on an island with tough extradition laws, Lisbon became a small town Sheriff, Cho joined the FBI (which is cool, because it goes with a fic I’m posting), and Rigspelt started their own investigative software (????) company. (That’s just a guess – all I know is it had something to do with law enforcement and computers.)

In any case, it was a lot to digest in a few short weeks. It hurt seeing FBI goons dragging Jane’s brown couch away, and watching his favorite blue teacup smash to the floor. I think I knew then that nothing would ever be the same again. Change is hard, but in this case I think it was necessary. The Red John storyline had dragged on for too long, and it was pulling the rest of the show down with it. The future of The Mentalist depended on a fresh start, and the showrunners boldly wiped the slate squeaky clean.

But before they could do so, they had to wrap up Red John, as quickly and satisfyingly as possible. I like that Red John was not Bertram, who had an odd pleasantness about him that did not quite fit a serial killer. The Sheriff had a little bit of that manic gleam in his eyes that went a long way to convincing me that he could, in fact, be a homicidal maniac. I like that Red John’s death was slower and more drawn-out than the mall shooting. I like that he said he was sorry for killing Jane’s family, and that he was also afraid to die. I like the moments of genuine fear I felt when RJ ran right through a home with a family inside, and a yard where a little girl was playing. I like that Jane said he felt a little bit disappointed, because the writers knew the audience would feel that way, too.

After all those years of build-up, how could the moment ever live up to our expectations? For me, the only real letdown was that Red John did not seem to have any special connection to Jane, or any attachment to him. I did not get a sense of their relationship – Red John has saved Jane’s life numerous times, and also killed for Jane on several occasions, yet I felt none of that twisted “bond” when they finally met face-to-face.

Like I said, though, it never could have lived up to everyone’s expectations. I’m pretty happy with what we got, especially the emotionality of Simon’s performance in those final moments, almost turning the gun on himself, and then making the decision to live and be free. Amazing stuff.

And now we have The Mentalist: A New Beginning. Honestly, I felt so much more excited about the previews for the “New Beginning” eps than I did for the “Red John: Final Chapter” eps, and that alone told me how much I was ready for Red John to be over. I feel like the show can finally breathe. It was crippled and tied down, and now, at last, it can spread its wings.

Some people will probably hate the show’s new direction, but I, for one, can’t wait to see how far it will fly.

Up Next: The Race: Week Twelve – with most shows in reruns, the few left standing battle it out for the top spot!

And also: Great Reads, Volume One: Superhero Stories. As the title suggests, I’ll be sharing some of my favorite superhero tales – whether you’re a lover of original short stories or a fanfic-aholic, you’ll leave a satisfied customer.


Reflections on NaNoWriMo

First of all: I did it! Woo hoo! I met my goal! 🙂 Well, kind of. I wrote 50,000 words of fiction in thirty days, which was the main challenge. Unfortunately, the 50,000th word did not neatly coincide with the end of my book. So technically, I can’t claim that I wrote a complete novel in one month – which would have been awesome. Nonetheless, I feel like a winner. 🙂

A Crazy Idea

Last year, writing 50,000 words in a month seemed crazy and unattainable. I didn’t even consider participating. This year, things felt different. I felt different. Early in the spring, I started flirting, only semi-seriously, with the idea of going for it.

Then came the story idea. I was reading my copy of Chicken Soup: Inspiration for the Writer’s Soul (which, incidentally, features a wonderful story by one of my very own writing group members!) and this awesome plot just came to me. I knew right away that it was too involved to be limited to a short story. I also knew that I was too busy with other projects at that particular moment to write it. But November, aka National Novel Writing Month, was only seven short months away… 🙂

A Rude Awakening

By the end of May, I was strongly committed – in my own mind, at least – to writing my novel during the NaNoWriMo craziness. Little by little, I was figuring out who the characters were, how they related to one another, and how the plot would unfold. The more planning I did, the more excited I became. Then, on the very last day of May, life took an unexpected, high-speed turn: a bolt of lightning struck my parents’ farmhouse, destroying the place we had called home for over a decade.

No humans or pets were harmed, which is the only thing that really matters. But many of our possessions were lost, and the house itself was not habitable – both of which put a major strain on our day-to-day activities. For weeks, just getting through my chores, getting to work, and getting back to my brother’s house (where we were given every amenity and kindness you could imagine) took all the strength I had. Writing every day became a dim memory. Writing once every two weeks or so became the new, discouraging norm. And NaNoWriMo, that precious promise I had made to myself, started to look like it was never going to happen.


They say time heals all wounds. I don’t know about that, but time did, at least in my case, make things better. Although we could not move back into our home, we were able to move back onsite, which eliminated the grueling back-and-forth travel time that was eating up all of my potential writing sessions. I began to produce stories again, and my heart sang like an un-caged canary. Little by little, November, and everything it stood for, started coming back into focus.

No Excuses

Of course, as with any plan, there were some complications. The biggest one was our estimated move-in date: Thanksgiving. Moving back into our house at the very end of NaNoWriMo seemed like a recipe for failure. I would be scrambling to finish a 50,000-word novel while simultaneously attempting to pack up and move my belongings, clean out our temporary house, and make sure all of the pets felt settled and safe in their new/old home. I hadn’t yet told anyone in my family about my planned NaNo participation, and the timing was a big reason why. They would think I was nuts! That, or, they would tell me not to do it. (I think I was more afraid of the second thing.)

Nonetheless, my commitment continued to strengthen throughout August, and by the end of the month, I’d made my decision: I didn’t care what the move-in date was. I didn’t care what anyone said. I wasn’t going to let the fire – or anything else – be an excuse for giving up on something that important to me. I was going to do it.

Breaking the News

So, you’ve decided to participate in National Novel Writing Month. What are you going to do next? Break the news to your family and friends that you’ll be uncommunicative, tired, grumpy, stressed, and pretty much constantly on the verge of tears for thirty straight days. Sound fun? 🙂 Not really, but it has to be done.

I told my mom, first. I told her in that soft, hesitant voice I always use when I’m saying a secret out loud for the first time. It made me sound weak, even though I wasn’t. I was strongly committed, and by mid-September, Mom was coming to terms with my decision. I asked her quietly for support, and she said she would give it. By the time that month’s writing group meeting came around, I was ready to make my announcement.

To my surprise, though, somebody else beat me to it – right near the start of the meeting, one of my group members asked, “Is anyone doing National Novel Writing Month this year?” My hand shot into the air so fast I could feel the breeze. My group member told me she’d already signed up online. She also told me some of the official rules – like, that I could have an outline for my story already written, and that I could also write character descriptions prior to November 1st. Just no actual prose. Now, I had a writing buddy to conspire with, and a new short-term goal: get my outline and character descriptions charged up and ready to launch by the first day of November.

Buckling Down

At home, I languished over the physical, mental, and emotional details of each of the characters who would populate my novel. Two new characters sprang to life unexpectedly, one of whom became vital to the story. I basked in the joy of his discovery. At writing group, I used our October session to hand write a complete outline for the novel – something that I never enjoy doing, but am always, ALWAYS grateful for later on. I also took the time to think about my weaknesses as a writer. I narrowed the list down to three main things that I wanted to improve on during the writing of my NaNo novel: writing better character descriptions, using all five senses to describe scenes, and keeping up a fast and exciting pace throughout my story. Having all that “grunt work” out of the way only made me that much more excited to start writing.

Near the end of October, I took the final step. Maybe the biggest one of all. I signed up online as an official participant in National Novel Writing Month. Finally, after months of hoping, dreaming and planning, there was only one thing left to do: wait.

Galloping Out of the Gate

There are several things that helped me succeed in reaching my NaNoWriMo goal. The most important one, I think, is that I LOVE my story idea. I could not wait to write it. I physically ached at having to hold myself back. In the weeks prior to November 1st, my excitement grew to the point where I felt ready to pop like a pin-stuck helium balloon.

Another helpful element (though this was not entirely intentional): I had not written any new fiction in months. That’s right, MONTHS. Since April, I’d been focused on writing and submitting a series of non-fiction stories for the Chicken Soup books. And, much as I love all the unique challenges of writing non-fiction, fiction is where my heart truly lives. And by November, my heart was starved for it. My heart was shriveled and barely beating, it needed fiction so bad. So when that starting gate finally opened, and I sat down for that very first writing session, my heart swelled back to life, and my fingers flew. I easily made my first day’s goal of two thousand words, and by Day Five, I’d exceeded ten thousand.

Writing With Wild Abandon

One of the challenges of NaNoWriMo is that you’re supposed to write with wild abandon. I really think I embraced this…on Day One. I threw myself into the story and told myself not to delete anything, not to go back and edit, to just set the words free and keep going. It was the only way I thought I’d be able to reach 50,000 words.

When I reached my Day One goal so easily, though, I started to think, maybe, just maybe, 50,000 wasn’t going to be so hard, after all. By Day Four, I was pretty much back into old habits. I spent extra time fussing over the perfect adjective. If something didn’t sound right, I went back and rewrote. The result: my writing sessions got longer and longer each day, even though I was producing the same number of words. I was trying to create a better product, but it definitely cost me.

If I had managed to hold onto that carefree style of Day One, I might have completed more than just 50,000 words by Day Thirty – I might have completed an entire novel. There’s more to it than just length, though – I had an opportunity to try something bold and new with my writing, and instead I retreated back into the warm safety of my comfort zone. I wrote, for the most part, as I have always written. Whether my novel is better or worse because of that is something I’ll never know.


Of course, if NaNoWriMo was easy, then it wouldn’t be considered a challenge. After essentially breezing through the first week of writing, the stresses and commitments of real life – work, school, family events, chores – started to take their toll. I also began to feel the fatigue associated with my long-@$$ writing sessions. Family members lost patience with me for interfering with their daily schedules, and I began to wonder if it was all worth it.

By mid-month, I’d completely abandoned the two thousand words per day quota, and had simply written a few new goals on the calendar: 30,000 words by November 21st, 40,000 words by the 25th, 50,000 by the last day of the month. If didn’t matter that I was no longer meeting my daily goals – as long as I could dig deep and reach the goals written on the calendar, I’d still make it. And, as a matter of fact, I did reach the 30,000 mark on schedule. But somewhere between 30,000 and 40,000 my new system fell apart. I did not hit 40,000 on the scheduled day. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

Desperation began to creep over me like cold egg yolk. I started getting up crack-of-dawn early to hammer at my manuscript. It helped somewhat, but with a special family gathering on Thanksgiving, plus work the day before and the day after, my word-count deficit continued to grow. When I woke at six a.m. on Saturday, November 30th, I still had over 6,500 words left to write – and only one day to make it happen.

Race to the Finish Line

6,500 words in under eighteen hours seemed impossible. Seriously, climbing Mount Everest was looking like a more realistic goal at that point. Never mind that I couldn’t even spend all of those hours writing – my chores weren’t going to go and do themselves. I got my farm work done as quickly as possible and settled in to write. And write. And write. I chipped away at my word count in little chunks, writing for as long as I could bear it before checking the numbers again.

Sixty-five hundred gradually became six thousand, then fifty-five hundred. My back started to ache, and I got up to walk around every hour or so to prevent blood clots. My dad’s 13-year-old laptop became so overheated that it took several long moments to respond to commands. But it wasn’t crapping out entirely, and neither was I.

When I reached the two thousand word mark, I had a decision to make. I knew I could finish, but it would take several more grueling hours of work. By the time my word count reached 50,000, it would be too late to drive to someplace with Internet access and upload my novel to the NaNoWriMo site for validation. And I really REALLY wanted validation. Like, SO bad. I had given up so much for this. Time, energy, food, sleep. My mom had grudgingly watched hours of TV on mute so I could work. And now I wasn’t even going to get my prize for finishing?

It was a hard pill to force down, and I admit, some dirty thoughts entered my head. It would’ve been easy to tack on a few previously-written short stories to the end of my novel, drive to McDonald’s, and use their wi-fi to upload my “50,000 words.” But doing so would have wasted time – time I needed in order to finish writing my 50,000 – for real – by midnight. So, I could cheat and get my prize, or I could let go of the prize and keep the commitment I made to myself.

In the end, I guess it wasn’t such a hard decision after all. At a little after 11:30pm on November 30, 2013, after nearly eleven hours of continuous writing, my novel’s word count read 50,005. Proud and exhausted, I announced to my mother I had done it, backed up my work on my flash drive, and let my dad’s poor decrepit laptop have its much-deserved siesta.

Life After NaNoWriMo

The first thing Mom said to me, after “Good job,” was “You are NEVER doing this again.” Initially, I agreed with her assessment. It was a wonderful and unique experience, but it definitely didn’t come free. All of the things I let slide for a whole month came back to haunt me with a Ghost Of Christmas Past vengeance. It was overwhelming, trying to make up for lost time in other areas of my life. Reality bites, and sometimes it’s rabid. I’m STILL not all caught up on everything I neglected last month.

But I do have to admit, as things start to calm down and normal life filters back in, that a part of me actually misses those crazy-long writing sessions. I miss galloping through the set-up portion of my book and diving headlong into the action. I miss watching my story grow like a Chia Pet on fast forward. As difficult and insane as NaNoWriMo was, it did something for me that no one or thing had ever done before: it gave me permission to put my writing first. For thirty whole days, I got to say “yes” to my novel and “no” to almost everything else. Dictionary.com should write a new definition for “liberating.”

I’m still working on my NaNo novel, but progress these days is slow. Like, glacier-mates-with-a-snail slow. Before NaNoWriMo, I would have been happy with writing four or five hundred words a week. Now, I know just how much more I am capable of. And it might be nice to push myself like that again someday, to really crack down and get things done. So, yeah, now that I’ve had a few weeks to recover, I’d totally consider doing NaNoWriMo again. No question.

Just, uh, don’t tell my mom…