Perceptions and Illusions

Writing process

2008-10-04T10:12:00.000-07:00

Writers are often asked what process they go through when writing.

Me, I rely on multiple rewrites, which each change the text quite a bit.

For example, this morning these paragraphs:

     I opened my eyes and looked at my husband lying beside me. Memories of wonderful times we have had together flooded my mind, and tears began to stream down my face.
     What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
     And I forgot their existence for an entire day.

Became these paragraphs:

     As the light of morning sun hits my eyelids I decide it must be time to leave the land of slumber and start a new day.
     If I could convince my eyes to open, that is. They really don’t like that transition period when they are forced to leave the relaxing darkness of night to be assaulted by that bright orb which sometimes shows itself in the morning sky.
     My eyes tell me that they find the whole process extremely unfair!
     I convince them to open a slit, and both my eyes and I (or should I say the three of us?) are pleased to discover that there is no pain waiting to sneak in with the sun’s rays.
     A little at a time I persuade my eyes to open, until they are finally fully open and ready for a new day. Now all I have to do is roll over, sit up, and get out of bed.
     But my movements are arrested as my eyes decide to focus on the man sleeping beside me.
     As if someone had started playing 20 different movies in my head at the same time, memories flooded my brain, engulfing me with a kaleidoscope of images made up of the wonderful times I’ve shared with this man. Interspersed among the picnics, movies, berry picking and long walks were discussions about everything under the sun. Discussions I have enjoyed very much.
     My heart swells with love as the realization hits me that I truly enjoy being with this man who is my husband. It swells even more as I think about how amazing it is that I can talk to him about absolutely everything.
     Tears pour down my cheeks as my heart becomes overfull with emotion. This man is not simply my husband—he is my best friend!
     I’m such a sap.
     What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
And I forgot their existence for an entire day.

And who knows what the final text will be after a few more rewrites!

By the way, it feels really good to be writing again. I've been so busy that I've barely written for about a month and a half. I think I was having withdrawal pains.

I told you those Jupiterians would find a way to slow me down!

Tears of...

2008-09-20T07:46:00.000-07:00

So where exactly is the dividing line between joy and sorrow?

Odd question?

Maybe not as odd as you might think. Because even though joy and sorrow are considered opposites, they often exist in our hearts side by side.

Take, for example, today. I am helping one of my children move out of the house, and into the dorm.

My heart is heavy with sorrow because I fear that I might lose her. I know that once she moves out of the house our relationship will never be quite the same again, not to mention that I won't be there to protect her.

From now own, every solution she discovers for herself, every bill she pays without my help, every experience she has without my presence moves her more firmly into adulthood. And everyone knows that although most adults love their mothers, they don't really need them. (Being somewhat self-sufficient and responsible for yourself pretty much defines adulthood.)

Besides, I won't get to joke with her about her day, tease her about her hair, give her a hug right before bed.

But here is where my question comes from. Residing right beside the sorrow is that other strong emotion, joy. I can barely contain how elated I feel that she has grown to be such a wonderful, mature young woman. I rejoice in the thought that she is about to begin the journey into adulthood, where she really gets to spread her wings and find out exactly what type of person she is (which is, of course, wonderful, talented, fantastic, etc....).

So when I cannot contain my tears any longer and I break down and cry--which I know I will--where will those tears come from? Where's the line? Will they be tears of sorrow, or tears of joy?

Cerulea is on Amazon!

2008-09-16T18:14:00.001-07:00

The writing continues

2008-09-15T20:44:00.000-07:00

The book I'm currently working on is not written for the same audience as my first three books. While the Behold the Eye trilogy books were written for the middle grade/young adult group, this new book is more for adults.

Why the change?

Well, probably because I enjoy trying new things, finding new ways to do the same thing, and pushing myself to grow as a writer. My goal is "test the waters" in different genres by writing different types of books. I currently have the beginnings of a mystery, a series of ghost stories, and a science fiction.

Of course, the only one nearing book quality and length is the science fiction. I enjoy writing it, and it is coming along rather well. It is now 120 pages long and....

Uh oh, did you hear that?

When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut! Now the Jupiterians know about the next book, and they'll never let me get any peace.

Sigh. Here I go again!

I Remember 9/11/01, and more

2008-09-13T06:55:00.000-07:00

I remember...

Being awakened in the early hours of the morning by my husband. My 15 year old daughter had woken him up because of what she had heard on the radio.

I remember...

Looking at television, horrified that a pilot had made such a terrible mistake and crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings. My heart ached as I thought of the families of the unfortunate who were either in the plane or in the section of the building that had been hit.

I remember...

Watching the second plane crash into the World Trade Center. My first thought was that the whole scene was surreal. It had to be some kind of publicity stunt for a new movie. One plane hitting was a trajedy, two was impossible.

I remember...

The sudden realization that this was no accident, this was no stunt, this was real, and this was an attack. Innocent people going about their daily lives had been attacked and killed. In America.

I remember...

The feeling of fear. Would more attacks follow? How would I be able to keep my family safe? How could life continue?

I remember...

Hearing of the attack on the Pentagon, and of a plane going down in a field. I'll never forget the look on my husband's face as we talked about what might come, especially after the plot against our country was discovered and then publicized. Suddenly the world had became a much more dangerous place.

I remember...

Realizing that this was not a series of events that would mark a single day, this was a series of events that would change every day. It was a lonely time. It was a stressful time. It was a time I never want to relive. Many things happened then, and in the days that followed, that I would rather forget.

But I'll remember...

That I am fortunate. I can empathize with the families of those who died on September 11th, but I cannot truly feel their pain. My loved ones were safe on that eventful.

And I pledge to remember...

That it was not buildings that were attacked, it was my country. And though it took a little longer than I would have liked, America took action. I'll continue to be proud of my country. And I'll continue to be in awe of the selflessness of people like my husband and other members of the military who regularly sacrifice to protect my country.

I sincerely hope Americans always remember what it really means to the an American.

Revisions, revisions, revisions!

2008-09-06T07:17:00.000-07:00

How is it that no matter how hard I try to perfect the manuscript, when I get the proof I always find something I need to change?

Is there a gremlin in my computer that makes changes just as I finalize my final draft?

Or maybe I was hypnotized sometime in my past, and I am the one sneaking in little mistakes that need to be corrected.

Oh, wait, now I have it figured out. It is those pesky Jupiterian aliens! They must be really slow readers, and they want to have the book in hand well ahead of anyone else in their bookclub!

Lost in the mail

2008-08-30T08:23:00.000-07:00

Can you believe it! My proof was lost in the mail!

I wonder if it was delivered to the wrong address, and the recipient has not even looked at the package yet. After all, I'm sure there are many people who only open their mail once a month or so.
-or-
It may have fallen off a conveyor belt in the post office, and it is gathering dust behind all the noisy machines. But since my book is a friendly book, so I'm sure it will be making friends with all the other lost packages that have fallen behind the machinery throughout the years.
-or-
Aliens from Jupiter had read the first book, and just couldn't wait to read the next one!

Naughty aliens!

Impatience

2008-08-24T21:34:00.000-07:00

I should have known! Today is Sunday, and the proof copy of Cerulea isn't here yet.

Doesn't it seem that the more something is anticipated, the longer it takes to arrive? Like...like...Christmas, or a loved one who has been away, or maybe a vacation. You wait, and wait, and wait and it seems that you have to keep waiting FOREVER.

Things that are dreaded, well, there is no slowing down how fast they come! A test, morning after a long night, and Monday appear magically. Blink your eyes, and there it is!

Five days

2008-08-15T08:48:00.001-07:00

Five days! That is all I have to wait until I have the Cerulea in my hands!

The proof has been printed and is on the way. The feelings I am experiencing are just like those I had with the "birth" of Braumaru. Anxiety, excitement, fear, joy, etc.

Yes, yes, yes. I know that publishing a book is not the same as giving birth to a baby. I do have 4 children after all! I have experienced the joys and pains of childbirth.

But still, there are some similarities....

Schnoodle

2008-08-11T17:34:00.000-07:00

After years of listening to begging, pleading, and cajoling, my husband and I have caved.

We now have a Schnoodle. Not that it was particularly a Schnoodle that our kids were asking for, a Schnoodle is just the particular breed we chose.

What is a Schnoodle, you may ask? It is the cutest puppy in the world. Part Schnauzer, and part Poodle. She is 9 weeks old, soft, friendly, and cute.

We have had her 3 1/2 hours, and we have already taken her outside 3 times. So far, so good!

I hope we're not in over our heads!

Plastic monster, myth or reality

2008-08-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

Plastic. Everywhere I look there is plastic. Plastic bottles, plastic table cloths, plastic plates, plastic chairs, plastic spoons, plastic forks, plastic tables, plastic shoes, and on and on and on.

I wonder if the inventor of plastic ever imagined what a monster he/she was creating.

Plastic seems harmless enough. It's easy to clean, resists breaking, is light-weight, and can be make into any shape desired. And oh, it can last virtually forever.

Which is the biggest problem of plastic. It seems that creating things out of material that lasts forever may not be such a good idea after all.

But when it comes to environmental lore, how do we separate fact from fiction? Which stories are true, and which have been constructed to push an agenda forward.

Take for example the following story about the world's dependence on plastic:

Somewhere out there, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, there is a place where the water swirling clockwise meets water swirling counterclockwise, and a vortex is formed. This vortex has acted as a natural vacuum cleaner for the ocean, pulling in bits and pieces of plastic to this one location. The accumulation is said to cover an area the size of Texas.

My first thought is:

Texas! Couldn't it at least be a smaller state, like Rhode Island, or maybe Connecticut? And who, pray tell, is going to take on the gargantuan task of emptying the trash out of the vacuum? I can just hear the echoes across the world of "It's not my mess".

But then I begin to analyze. Who says this plastic Texas exists? Do they have an agenda they are trying to push? Has any reasonably unbiased group studied this?

So now I am reserving judgement. The report comes from a group that is not known for being unbiased.

This doesn't necessarily mean that the story is untrue, it just means that I cannot yet accept it as fact.

Image of second book

2008-08-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

Cerulea only needs a few finishing touches and it will go to the printers.

I am so excited. I can't wait to get the proof in my hands!

Here is a preview of what the front cover will look like.

First person vs third person

2008-07-26T10:16:00.000-07:00

I am working on my newest book, and I just cannot decide if I want to write it in first or third person. I originally wrote it in third person, I then converted to first person, and now I've converted it again into third. I need to make up my mind soon.

So here is the same text, in different 'persons':
********************************************************************************
“Look! There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!” I yelled.

I realized that yelling in an enclosed space like the car probably wasn’t a good idea as I watched my husband jump at the sound of my voice. He swerved to the right to make the requested turn, and then turned to look at me in surprise. I am usually much calmer than this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” I admitted sheepishly and cringed at the expression on my husband’s face. I glanced toward the back of the car to see if my loudness had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.

“I am just so frustrated,” I continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”

“We still have another half hour before her appointment,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”

I turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because my oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When I had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, I had immediately called to make an appointment for my child.

The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed me that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Pride had flown out the window as I had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for my child.

So I knew that it was paramount that my family arrived for the appointment on time. If we blew this chance, there was no way we would be given a second chance. Which is why I had allowed a full hour for what should have been a 10 minute drive.
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
“Look! There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!” Vanessa yelled frantically.

Tony jumped at the sudden loud sound of his wife’s voice, swerved to the right to make the requested turn, and then turned to look at her in surprise. Vanessa was usually much calmer than this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” Vanessa admitted sheepishly as she noticed the expression on her husband’s face. She glanced toward the back of the car to see if she had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.

“I am just so frustrated,” Vanessa continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”

“We still have another half hour before her appointment,” Vanessa admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”

Vanessa turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because her oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When Vanessa had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, she had immediately called to make an appointment for her child.

The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed Vanessa that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Vanessa had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for her child.

So Vanessa knew that it was paramount that her family arrived for the appointment on time. If they blew this chance, there was no way they would be given a second chance. Which is why Vanessa had allowed a full hour for what should have been a 10 minute drive.
********************************************************************************

I have to choose the person before the next rewrite, because it is time to choose a path.

In first person I can be friendlier and let the reader really know what is in the Vanessa's head. But I won't be able to give other people's points of view.

In third person the reader will be kept at a greater distance, but can see from more angles.

What to do, what to do!

Censored Post about Cracker-related-catchphrase

2008-07-25T10:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes there are inside 'jokes' that just need to be explained.

Take for example the following conversation I heard in my house last night.

Daughter: Let's watch a movie.
Dad: I'll go for that. What do you want to watch?
Daughter: Well let's see. We have 3 Netflix movies...'4 Muskateers', 'License to Wed', and 'National Treasure: Book of Secrets'. With a sneer Who put those movies on the list?
Dad: Let's watch 'National Treasure: Book of Secrets'!
Daughter: Let's not, that would be like cracker-related-catchphrase, which has been deleted per daughter's request.

We immediately understood what she meant, but anyone outside our family hearing this conversation would be seriously confused. So let me explain what 'cracker-related-catchphrase' means to my daughter.

All of my daughters love to snack on crackers of all kinds, so we typically keep several different types in the house. The two types we keep most often are Cracker brand 1 and Cracker brand 2.

A short while ago, Cracker brand 2 started appearing on store shelves in a variety of flavors. We, of course, had to try them all.

My daughter took one bite of cracker-related-catchphrase and was immediately hooked. These crackers burst with an overabundance of flavor, so there is little wonder that they can be immediately addicting. She was so enamored with the flavor that she ate almost the entire box in one sitting (unusual for her).

She then proceeded to become very ill. She has not eaten a cracker-related-catchphrase since.

So if she says something is like cracker-related-catchphrase, she means that it is overkill. Too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing. It's just too much.

All instances that might lead to the discovery of the cracker-related-catchphrase have been deleted at the request of my daughter. There is nothing wrong with the catchphrase. She just likes to protect her privacy.

Travel to the Land of Illusion

2008-07-23T17:36:00.000-07:00

I visited Universal Studios with a few members of my family. My favorite 'ride' was the tour of the studios.

Did I see any stars? Not to my knowledge. But I must tell you that people might look different in the real world than they do on the screen. The sets certainly do!

The truly amazing thing is that we took several pictures of the sets, and they look like they do on the big screen! Our camera is just as fooled as the more expensive, professional cameras. Can I ever again trust what the camera tells me?

Probably not, now that I've seen with my own eyes how easily the camera lies (or is fooled).

I particulary liked one of the older sets. The tour guide told how one side of the street has all the windows and doors smaller than normal, while the other side has larger than normal windows and doors.

Why you ask?

They would film the men in front of the smaller than normal doors/windows, so that the men appeared larger and more masculine. The women would be filmed in front of the larger than normal doors/windows so that they would appear more dainty.

Who knew?

Dreaming

2008-07-06T18:02:00.000-07:00

Spiders, everywhere I look there are big, black, long-legged spiders. But none of the people around me, all wearing matching Hawaiian shirts, seem to be the least bothered. They just go about their business, oblivious to the possible dangers that abound.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain on the palm of my hand, immediately followed by another. I look at my hand in horror, because there, on my open palm, are two of those horrible creatures injecting me with their venom.

I frantically shake my hand to dislodge the spiders and look to see what damage is done. Already the venom is beginning to take effect. Two large, white bulbs of goo are growing, expanding like balloons on a helium machine. The pain becomes almost unbearable.

What can I do? I know there is an antidote for the venom. I must find it fast. I must find the antidote before...

And I wake up.

But even awake, the anxious feeling stays. For the next few hours, the world is still populated with oblivious people in Hawaiian shirts. The spiders still abound, and I still need to find the antidote.

Anxiety

2008-07-03T15:36:00.000-07:00

My heart is racing, and I have to constantly tell myself to breathe. Because if I don't take a deep breath every so often I know I'll faint.

Several times today I have been so distracted that I did very stupid things, like trying to open the wrong car door with my keys, or attempting to walk through a closed door.

Why am I so anxious? What horrible event is occurring in my life that brings me to the edge of unconsciousness?

That's the sad part! No horrible event, just the natural anxiety I feel when one of my children is fortunate enough to take a trip without me.

I am such a wimp!

Blog changes

2008-06-30T12:28:00.000-07:00

It is time for me to do a little more work to integrate the blog more fully into my website. I don't think changing the background to black is enough.

So if you visit and things look odd, please have patience. I'll probably have to try several different versions before I get everything looking exactly how I want it.

Wish me luck!

Serene family life

2008-06-24T11:42:00.001-07:00

Years ago, when I was a child dreaming about my adult life, I had a vision of a life full of peace and serenity.

Oh, the dreams of childhood!

I love my family dearly, but they certainly don't bring peace and serenity. There is always something going on. Today, my oldest daughter is moving out of her apartment.

I don't mind helping her, but it sure is hard work!

Maybe I can count it as my daily workout. Lifting couches should be the same as lifting weights, right? And climbing stairs repeatedly is the equivalent of the elliptical trainer, wouldn't you agree?

High Praise

2008-06-14T06:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the last day of school, and I received one of the nicest compliments that a librarian can get. A mom told me she was so glad that I was their librarian, because I was so hip.

Why is this such high praise?

A moment of thought about that tired old stereotype of the cranky librarian wearing boring clothes, boring glasses, and a boring bun in her hair should make it perfectly obvious why I think it praise.

I mean, doesn't everyone like to hear that they are not boring? And if I'm not boring, doesn't that mean that I have a better chance of reaching the kids, and really teaching them?

Yes, it made my day!

And no, I don't try to be hip. I'm actually rather strict.

Writing has changed how I read

2008-06-07T08:06:00.000-07:00

Writing has opened my eyes in a way I never expected.

I have been known in the past to get so caught up in a book that I could not hear any noises around me. A train could be barrelling down the track, me sitting on the rails, people screaming for me to get out of the way, and I would continue to calmly read. The train, the screaming people, imminent death--all of that would have become the fictional world, and the book in my hand the only reality.

But now I read differently. Now I notice how the plot is structured, how dialog carries the story along in a way that pure text never could, where the author utilizes foreshadowing in just that perfect manner.

But most of all, my eyes have been opened to exactly how much of the author is embedded in the story. How old hurts, joys, thoughts and dreams appear on the pages and become part of the story.

As soon as I began to write seriously, as soon as I realized just exactly how much an author must give up of themself, I knew that there were certain types of stories I would never be capable of writing. Not that my imagination is not rich enough to write a psycho-thriller or a horror story, but my life experiences are fortunately lacking in that arena.

And that is just the way I want to keep it!

Seattle weather

2008-06-03T09:08:00.000-07:00

There are days when I wonder why I'm living in this area. This is one of those days.

Here it is, June, and not only is there no sun, but the clouds are weeping!

What do the clouds have to be so sad about? They have no stress, no worries. All they do is float around all day looking at the view.

Come on clouds, get a grip!

Progress of Cerulea

2008-05-26T09:12:00.000-07:00

I've been working hard to get Behold the Eye: Cerulea ready for publication. My oldest daughter is doing the illustrations, and I have no idea how far she has gotten.

Which makes me anxious.

She's told me many times that she is working on them, so I guess I'll just have to trust that she'll get them done on time.

On second thought, I bet if I ask nicely, she'll let me see what she has done so far. After all, I do have a vested interest in the illustrations. I can't publish without them.

My plan is to publish late July, early August.

Press Release

2008-05-20T20:28:00.000-07:00

New Book for Young Adults Traversing the Landscape of Dreams

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Braumaru, a new book for young adults by first-time author Veronica Tabares, takes its readers on an expedition through the magical world of dreams.

"A fortunate few get to experience the rarest dream of all," says Tabares. "This brand of dream has no connection to the imagination and does not occur in the human head. Instead, it happens in a realm of its own - in the baffling, mysterious, and dangerous land of dreams."

Braumaru, the first book in the Behold the Eye trilogy, follows Micah, a young boy who lives in a world very similar to our own. Micah has completed his Rite of Passage, but he awaits true manhood, when his birth gift reveals itself.

Meanwhile, Vickie, a 6th-grader in our world, wants some excitement in her life. In her attempt to write a ghostly bestseller, she begins to truly observe her world and its mysteries. That is how she crosses paths with an unscrupulous janitor who hopes to travel to Micah's world and satisfy his quest for power.

"What happens when someone discovers how to travel through the land of dreams, and the lives of our world become entwined with those of the other dimension" says Tabares. "Read Braumaru to make that timeless, magical journey yourself."

About Veronica Tabares

Raised in Memphis, Veronica Tabares has traveled across many states and career fields. She has sold artwork to businesses, produced web content for a tech company, performed story time as a children's librarian, and taught 6th graders how to be safe on the Internet. Tabares has a Bachelor's in Anthropology and a Master's in Library and Information Science from the University of Washington. She currently lives in Seattle with her husband and four lovely daughters. For more information, please visit Behold the Eye: Braumaru (http://www.veronicatabares.com).

Anniversary

2008-05-19T20:17:00.000-07:00

I celebrated my anniversary this weekend. I have now officially been married more than half my life.

When I met my husband, I realized very quickly that he was the man I wanted to marry. I don't quite know why (we came from different backgrounds), but we matched perfectly. We liked the same things, had the same interests, enjoyed the same foods. We even had matching fingerprints!

Probably most important of all, we could talk for hours and hours. We still can.

There is no doubt that my husband is my best friend.

After all these years, he is still the only man I've ever met I can imagine as my husband.