finally, some thoughts about writing.

Step #1.  Go to the library.  Check.

Step #2.  Locate nook.  If occupied, locate next available nook (there are several to choose from, here).  Check.

Step #3.  Drink white chocolate/macadamia nut latte.  Double check.

Step #4.  Disconnect from the internet.  Um... no check.

Step #5.  Write with abandon.  For the first time in two weeks, check.

Step #6.  Have an interesting thought.  Take a break to blog about it.  Unfortunate check.

This is usually how it goes for me.  My brain gets so excited, thoughts start going out all over the place.  It's the opposite of how I focus on something.  I remember learning that women can concentrate on or notice multiple things at a time, like they have millions of antennae coming out of their brains.  On the other hand, men generally only concentrate on one thing at a time, like they just have one big tube on their forehead that sucks up the information right in front of them.  Well, if this is the defining quality of gender, then I am a very confused girl.  I have remarkably few detail-receptors gathering information from all around me.  I have the man-tube.  I am a horrible multi-tasker.  Reading more than one book at a time feels like a thrill ride.  I don't really know what's going on around me, especially if I am particularly absorbed in something else.

But writing today was different, somehow.  I mean, the man-tube (the more I type that, the more awkward it sounds) is definitely in action.  I can't STAND ambient noise, especially in the form of children.  I am either going to be a horrible mother one of these days, or realize how horrible I was before becoming one.  Probably both.  I usually can't stand to listen to music, either, though today I did.  I think I have two qualifications for that:  it must be instrumental only, and it must be relatively unfamiliar, lest I get annoyed.  Also (okay, three qualifications), if one song works, I have to play it over and over again until the mood changes, and then find another song.  If there's not a song that fits the mood of what I'm writing, I can't listen to anything.  Boy, am I picky.  In six months of drafting (has it been that long?), I've only listened to music about twice, so that proves it.  But it really worked today, so that was... sort of fun.  And really weird.

Who am I, all of a sudden?

And then I started thinking about things.  So, I have a completely unrelated question for all you writerly-types out there:  What the heck makes boys cry?  I mean, I was about in tears writing just now, and so it seemed super-natural (not to be confused with supernatural) for my character to cry, as well.  But... but... he's a boy, and boys don't cry, right?  Do boys cry?  Over being reunited with their family?  Is that something that would make a boy cry?  Wouldn't I get mad if I read this from someone else and the boy didn't cry?  Or would I get annoyed that he did?  [If you can't guess, I married a very non-emotional boy.  We make a bizarre pair.]  OH MY GOSH!  WHAT MAKES BOYS CRY?!?!

According to the majority of my Google-image findings,
the only boys who cry are under 12,
impoverished, or artistically rendered.
With one possible exception:

This came with the explanation, "Stock photo,"
meaning it was likely staged (thus, artistically rendered).
You can't even see his face.  Is this a real thing?
Or only an idea perpetuated by
 emotional women trying to write male characters?

Think back to high school, Julie.  What made boys cry then?  You had enough guy friends to see it happen.  Hmm.  Death?  Accepting Christ?  Yes, those things.

Anything else?

Someone help me before I turn this into more of a crisis than it is.

Step #7:  Publish post, get over the thought, and go back to previous writing.  Hopeful check.

a daisy in a velvet box.

I finally read Vessels & Flowers.  I'd been wanting to for a long, long time.
And you know what?  I really liked it.  :)

After much deliberation, I am fairly certain that I am a Daisy.  But without needing to deliberate at all, I am hands-down a Velvet Box.  And I wish the first thing that came up for "velvet box" on Google Search wasn't an adult superstore in Texas.  Sigh.

I read the whole thing in one night, which wasn't too hard to do.  I was so intrigued by the different Vessels (Vase, Basket, Pitcher, Velvet Box [me!] and Golden Pouch), and then by the Flowers (Tulip, Iris, Rose [me?], Orchid, Dogwood [me?], Daisy [me?... me.] and Pansy), I couldn't put it down.  I even read while in the bathtub, which is difficult to do.  Especially when the cat comes and sits on your chest.  In the bathtub.  I couldn't make this stuff up.

Sidenote:  I don't know what it is with Oliver wanting to sit on my chest while I'm reading.  Only while I'm reading!  He loves to do this so much, he'll even brave a tub full of hot water for it.  I'm entertaining the idea that he wants to read books, too.  I wonder if there have been studies done about this.  
Prediction:  There haven't.
Link:  Prediction confirmed.  He must just be jealous.
Sidenote out.

So, anyway, Vessels & Flowers.  In case you've never ever heard of this book before, it was written by two women, Sally Pickard (a Daisy in a Velvet Box, like me) and Brenda Dulmage (a Daisy in a Basket), who are passionate about helping Christian women understand themselves better, and thus solve issues in their lives.  A true Daisy quality, now that I think about it (but I promise, not everyone is a Daisy).  It confirmed my personality as a part of who God designed me to be, and that thrills me.  It also encourages me to be better (that elusive better we all want), and I highly recommend it.  To everyone.  Especially if you're a woman who loves the Lord.

To learn more about it, go here.

So, this was kind of a weird post.  I'd go into more detail about my experience with the book, but then I would be telling you everything, and this is something you should do for yourself.  The Daisy is an encourager and a motivator, so go forth!  Read Vessels & Flowers, you beautiful women of God!  And then tell me which ones you are, so we can learn more and understand each other better.  :)

P.s.  If only I were a Pansy in a Velvet Box.  Not because I want to be or feel that I am a comforter, but because then finding these photos would have really made me cry:

Edited to add:  Hello, I didn't even explain what a Vessel or a Flower was.  I must have been tired when I wrote this.  The Vessel is your temperament, based on whether you are an extrovert or an introvert, and differing characteristics within each.  The Flower is your function, the way you relate to other people.  There.  That makes more sense.