Wednesday, January 26, 2011

012611 The Editor's Lexicon 68

My mother bought me the Editor's Lexicon for Christmas.

I have almost read through the entire thing but really it is a book to be visited and revisited during the writing (and editing process).

I am going to add a review from Amazon.com that explains it perfectly and why you should own this if you write fiction.

"This is a very helpful book. It gives names to many of the pitfalls we try to avoid in our writing, such as scope (which I would call "getting bogged down in one little detail") and info-dump (nobody wants to know that the conference table was rectangular or the taxi was drive-by-wire). The author even has the courage to use a passage from Stephenie Meyer's Twilight to illustrate weak style! She includes typical editorial comments to demonstrate how one might come across the terminology, as well as book excerpts illustrating good and bad execution and concepts that might otherwise seem obscure. It is a very short book, but its treatment of editorial lingo gives writers another tool for looking at their work with a bit more objectivity." -- Libby Cone (press her name for Amazon link with her review)

Sunday, January 23, 2011

012411 Cold Again 64

I'm home now! It has been VERY busy. I have been VERY busy and VERY distracted. I have not written as much as I would like, but I have written every day. I have told a few people I am writing. I told a friend that I named a character after her. That she wasn't the character but they had they same attitude and beauty. That they reminded me of each other.

There are a few reasons things have slowed down.

First and foremost, though I am embarrassed to say, I have been spending way too much time on the internet. Over the past months, especially since becoming so serious about my novel, I have spent much less time on the internet. I have wasted a lot of time on the internet in my life. I don't even like to think about it. I have also invested a lot of productive time on the internet. But lately I have just been loading and reloading facebook... Why would I do this? Well, my first day back at work I get pulled into the front office. Long story short, I receive an iPad. This is what they do for us instead of a bonus. Instead of a raise for taking on a huge project, and especially for me, who covered all of the Spanish accounts in the company as I was the only person who spoke any Spanish. I realize they saved a lot of money by doing this and though it is unfair, I would never buy myself an iPad, EVER. I don't buy myself gifts. I don't have a smart phone, I don't even have text messaging on my 4 year old flip phone. I rarely buy myself clothes. I hate malls (but I love fashion). I like window shopping and long wish lists on amazon and what have you. But I don't spend money that way. I travel and I invest in my passions and my husbands passions and our business. Our education. I invest in good cuts of meat. Good wines. Nights out. I try to enjoy life while allowing only a sliver of my overall happiness to belong to material objects. But...

OMIGODICAN'TBELIEVEHOWAMAZINGTHISTHINGIS
ANDEVENTHOUGHIDON'TKNOWHOWTOUSEITIAM
ALREADYSOADDICTEDIHAVEBEENREADINGIMDB
MESSAGEBOARDSANDSPENDINGALLOFMYFREETIMEON
FACEBOOKJUSTTOUSETHEGODDAMNEDTHINGGAHYOU
HAVENOIDEAWOWOMIGOODNESSGRACIOUSGOLLYGEE
WILIKERS.

Yes, my feelings about the thing are that intense. This is the first time I have been introduced to this whole touch screen thing. Apps. All that. I swear. I am a complete novice. I am a poor and simple girl. I prefer to hand write. Or not speak with you at all. Okay, that is an exaggeration. Anyway, point being, I feel like I have jumped forward in time or maybe it is that I have been far behind times. I'm thinking it's the latter. It's most certainly the latter.

But, I am giving that up now. Tonight. Only fifteen minutes a day on Facebook from here on out.

But, the iPad is not the only thing that has kept me busy. Of course working. We are still working on the same project from the summer. The VISA project is what we call it, you can speculate as to why. And though it has downsized, the DOB project has been jacked on.

I also got hired at a new club. I work in clubs as a dancer. A gogo dancer but a good one. I am a real dancer. Before this I have worked for a few years as a belly dancer and have a job lined upon our move back down south. I started gogo dancing because when I drop this god damn weight I can probably get a job down there doing this as well. It would be awesome to only be working as a dancer. All that time to write. Sleeping in late, beach during the day! The life! What a life!!!! I am such a dreamer. I have worked every weekend doing that. Waking up early the next day, going to work, taking a nap in the afternoon. I am running on four hours of sleep a night. Codeine cough medicine. I am high 24/7.

Also, one day this week I did a photo shoot with another gogo. This was the first time I had met her. She had an amazing body. Beautiful face! I told her she should keep modeling and I meant it. She was nice. A little shy but she opened up at the end. I tried my best to make it as comfortable for her as possible and I think we got some good shots. However, I planned to have this shoot in the day light but the sun sets early this time of year, she was running late (I told her not to worry) but it was dark when we started. I don't have any equipment to facilitate this process, like an external flash, for instance. But in the end I am happy with a couple and that is fine. At least I am investing my time in creativity instead of the internet.



Anywho, those are all of the reasons I HAVEN'T been writing as much as I have wanted to. Also, I have been doing a lot of editing lately. Really enriching the story, trying to add a bit of truth and a lot of beauty to my prose. Actually, much of it has gone very well. I am very happy with the story and my writing. My satisfaction surprises me.

I opened up the first first draft yesterday after a few days sticking only to the legal pads but the inspiration I felt was not as powerful as my exhaustion. I passed out soon after I turned on my lap top!

I will begin writing................. NOW!

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

011311 Stranded at the Drive In, Branded A Fool...

I've had too much wine tonight. I am a bit sad.

Coincidentally, I am the one who got stranded. My connection flight into ATL got canceled. My new flight out is Friday morning and the connection is JFK, so there isn't much hope that will happen either. Ironically, my lover's connection was in Denver, he landed in snow and made it home local time 9:00pm Wednesday evening!

How am I to sleep without him tonight? I wont be able to. Even though I only got four hours of sleep today (after staying up all night to take him to the aeropuerto at 5:30am). I was so worried about him traveling alone. Maybe it is obvious, maybe it is not, but we don't spend much time apart. In the four and a half years we have known each other maybe we have spent twenty nights apart. I don't know how to sleep without him. Ever since the the very first night I slept in his arms, I have never remembered how not to.

So, now I have had four or five or six glasses of wine. Soon I plan to disconnect from the internet and go to bed to write. Well, maybe I will have one more glass of wine. Okay, maybe two. I am not going to sit here and deny that I like to drink. That I don't like to alter my conscience with one drug or another. Alcohol usually when I hurt.

I saw a movie tonight, with my mother in law, and it has deepened the sadness within me. I've Loved You So Long, written and directed by Philippe Claudel, touched me in a way few films do. Though, not a romance, like my novel, still a great character study and it had me thinking about how, why and when we forgive people, which will be important in my story. As forgiveness is important in life.

Also, today I joined writersbeat.com forum to help immerse myself in the writers culture. I made an introduction post and replied to someone else's. I have to reply to five posts before I am granted permission to start a new thread and I am interested in seeing how many people use substances to help them write, like I do.

Writing is still coming along well. I still feel confident. And besides missing my lover, my thoughts are consumed by my story. I am proud of myself. Really, I am!

Monday, January 10, 2011

011111 Peter in Media

Every chance I can get I have been writing but I haven't had many chances. Our last few days down here have been hectic. I leave tomorrow (well, today, technically). I have to pack. I have to clean the apartment (a little). And my lover has already fallen asleep.

We have septate flights 17 hours apart yet arrive at our destination within an hour of each other. And because we will have to be apart my lover has been testing my love. What if there is an earth quake and I am stuck here, no planes can leave or come for a month? I would take a boat to be with you. What if I get injured and have to stay in the hospital and you don't find out until you are already home? I'd turn around take the next flight out.

I am feeling much more confident and motivated since starting this journal. Writing has been coming to me easier. Some of my prose are turning out to be really beautiful. I am pleased.

In this entry I want to collect some songs and poems and pictures that evoke the idea of Peter.

____________________________________________________

A Case of You
Joni Mitchell




Just before our love got lost you said
I am as constant as a northern star
And I said, constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar

On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice

Oh you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I would still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time

Oh you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed

Oh but you are in my blood you're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

____________________________________________________

I don't know the authors name
At home I have her poetry book
I will update this part then

Today was insane
not knowing my name
I took the giant step
while a giant slept beside me
cozy, come darling
today was eternity
in the realm of reality
I took the giant step
while a giant slept beside me
cozy, come darling
Inside gave way as I asked permission
to go beyond
where a giant's steps invade
A giant slept beside me
Yes I'll always be
forever living free
under giants heavy steps
a giant sleeps beside me
cozy, come darling.
____________________________________________________

Now, that poem had a lot to do with the character of Peter. First and foremost, when my aunt gave the book to me that this poem was in, I immediately fell in love. I must have been sixteen or seventeen years old. My mind and body filled with romance! This was my favorite poem in the book (except for the special hand written poem on the inside of the cover, written for my aunt by the original gift giver). I loved the idea of the woman being so small in her femininity. And a man being so large he was a giant. That imagery is so masculine. The two sexes contrasting with each other as much as they compliment each other. This poem is sexual and mysterious and was written about Peter, I have no doubt!
____________________________________________________

The Ballad of Peter's Lovers:
Hyperballad
Bjork




We live on a mountain
Right at the top
There's a beautiful view
From the top of the mountain
Every morning I walk towards the edge
And throw little things off
Like:
Car parts, bottles and cutlery
Or whatever I find lying around

It's become a habit
A way
To start the day

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

It's early morning
No one is awake
I'm back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow with my eyes 'til they crash
Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks

When it lands
Will my eyes
Be closed or open?

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

____________________________________________________

And, lastly some still images from X-Men Origins: Wolverine that I watched on TV a few weeks ago. When I saw this scene I immediately thought of Peter and his home.



____________________________________________________

And, lastly I will leave you with my favorite line I have written today:

"You can fall in love with simple things like snow, and the heat of a man’s skin against yours after he’s just made love to you. The tenuous rhythm of the swirling snow can hypnotize you. And even a good girl can be convinced to do a very bad thing."

Friday, January 7, 2011

010711 Peter Discovers a New Path 63

I have been thinking about Peter more, as was my intention. I began to write a short story about him that I intend to include in the novel. Quite soon actually. A story about him and another lover.

It has been helpful to write about Peter when Angela is not around. Just to take a break from the first draft has been helpful because it has been frying my brain. Also, through writing this, I have learned to better understand why a woman would be attracted to this man. For instance, if I met him in a bar or if I were at his house for a party, how would he seduce me? How would he seduce you? Because he would.

So, this is what has been on the fore front of my mind, this is what has been keeping me up at night. And when I began to understand Peter, he became more real. He became whole. And my short lived writers block was gone, the first draft began to move forward once again.

However, since understanding Peter, I have discovered a huge flaw in the first draft that sooner or later I am going to have to go back and fix. You see, the story begins as Angela is leaving her husband. You don’t know why, at first you don’t even know she is leaving him at all, you don’t know why she is packing, or why she is drunk or why she is putting on stage make up. Then suddenly a new timeline begins and Angela is a young woman in a bar, being picked up by a handsome giant. These two stories are told simultaneously, jumping back and forth to and from one another.

In the second story line, Angela meets Peter in a bar and then stays locked in his house for a week. I know why she would do this, as impulsive as it may seem, it is because she falls in love, madly and deeply in love, so much so that she is obsessed, almost depraved! But, as I was writing it, I was having trouble presenting a scenario in which this would happen that was believable. The problem has been the fluidity of the scenes that deal with her deciding to quit her job and basically become this man’s sex toy.

BUT NOW I KNOW HOW TO DO IT!

It dawned on me as I was tending to the first (typed) draft that all I need is a snow storm. The snow storm of the century, they will be trapped in that house for a week and there they will fall in love! It’s perfect, it’s romantic, it will provoke beautiful imagery to tease the senses. It may be a bit cliché, yes, but I think it will work. I think it may but just what we need.

I am about to go back up North to my parents’ home. I hope it snows, a big snow storm. A lights out, constant fire, candles lit, blankets on, no contact with the world kind of snow storm. I hope, I hope! Regardless if there is or if there isn’t, I am going to do the things Angela and Peter would have done. I am going to sit next to the fire place, I am going to cook grand breakfasts, I am going to make love in the cold, gray afternoon. I’m going to soak it all up, paying close attention to how it feels to exist!

P.S. I am adding this as I post this to the blog, because it took me two days to write this and another day to post it. And before I wrote this I wasn't on the writing streak that I am now. Non stop, all day! I don't know how I am going to sleep tonight but I must because tomorrow is Friday, our last Friday down here, and it will be busy. Anyway, I just wanted to add that the words have been flowing, looking back over the first full draft has been a real success. I have begun weaving in the snow storm and I do think it is perfect. Anyway, it is 3:20 in the morning and my husband is already in bed. Goodnight!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

010311 “Nice to Meet You, Peter” 56

Who is Peter?
That is the topic question for the day!
Where did he come from? What motivates him?
And, if it were 1997, what makes him tick?

I am thinking that Peter is one of my main road blocks in completing my first draft. When I first started this project Peter was a side character. Angela was a side character. But, as Angela grew so did her story and then her story became an important part of the over all message of the novel. Adapting and changing as stories and characters do when you write. The sensation is like coming to an understanding about someone or something. Except this something only exists in your mind. Well, in my case, on paper, in text and now on the internet. Anyway, the thing is that I have come to know Angela, the way I know Beatriz, maybe even a little better, but Peter is still a delicate acquaintance. This is what the love story is missing. It’s missing Peter.

When I began scripting their love affair I wrote down words as quickly as I could.

I said to myself, in my inner voice, Courtney, just write, it doesn’t matter what it is or how it sounds, just put it on paper, there will always be time to look back on it later, to improve it, to make it flow. (Yes, I always speak to myself in run on sentences)

So, I have sketched out the first four days of their love affair. This is significant, because in total, before the first week at her sister’s is up, I hope to have completed the first week of their affair, minute for minute. The two story lines will be ridding on each other’s backs.

So we are four days typed, and 8 hours to go before she reaches her sisters house. That is where the typed version stands. But where is Peter?

Here is what I know about Peter. I know how he looks. He is tall, broad, and all around large (and large all around, if you know what I mean). Actually he is a giant, at least he will be referred to that way in the text. He is strong but not like a body builder. More like someone, or something, with a natural brute force. His hair is red and wiry. He has a red beard and mustache, and bushy eyebrows too. His eyes are green. He is a little bit dirty, like a wild animal who only bathes in springs and lakes, but mostly he is devastatingly interesting, so to Angela, beautiful!

Like any classic bad boy he is narcissistic, charming and manipulative. He doesn’t mean to be, he just is, naturally. He is almost abrasive in his mannerisms, but it is part of his charm. He is as strong in his presence as he is in his physic. His energy is demanding and exciting. He can seduce anyone and he knows it. He likes to. Outwardly he is warm and inviting but inside he is cold and solid to his core. He fancies himself a windy island lost at sea. Or perhaps a puppeteer, performing a play for his audience. He fancies himself a type of god figure, but he’d lever let the thought slip to the front of his mind. He controls himself because he knows where those kinds of ideas can take people. Instead he indulges this fantasy sexually.

He is confident with women. He has never been turned down by a woman. He first slept with a woman (well a girl) when he was 13. She was two years his senior. He continues to meet and sleep with her sporadically throughout his life. At fifteen years old he seduced a woman his father was dating and this is when he discovered his power.

He has a power over women that he can’t explain and he doesn’t understanding but that has served his ego well. He exercises this skill every chance he can get. He has had affairs with several women in his close proximity. Angela will meet at least one. Peter makes it a habit of sleeping with the women who belong to the men who are close to him. Sometimes the girlfriend of a friend or the wife of a coworker. He’d steal them and return them, before the man ever caught on.

One time, before Angela, he takes another girl in to live with him. The circumstances will be similar, he will use and reuse methods of seduction for all of his conquests, Just like with Angela he feels a deep, sexual connection with the woman and forces his will onto her. She will be taken for the love affair of her life and then be tossed aside when he becomes bored. In retrospect Peter will have minimal feelings of loss and anguish, unlike with Angela, who will leave him devastated.

He was raised by his dad from the time he was seven. His mother died. I am not sure how yet. Together, he and his father would often go hunting or fishing or camping. Growing up he loved the outdoors. Loved to climb trees. These passions remain into adulthood. His father taught him a lot about different types of meats and how to prepare meat dishes. As Peter ages he refines his cooking skills. Learning how to bake even. Just like the outdoors, he also love food. The taste of food, the smell, cooking food, eating food off of a woman. Food and the preparation of food are common themes throughout the story.

_________________________________________________________________________________

I don’t think There is much more I can write about Peter, now. This is all I know of him so far, but I am going to start to keep him at the forefront of my mind, focus on him for the next few days, see through his eyes, so to speak.

This was another exercise I read online. To write a character summery. I have an incomplete one of Angela on a legal pad. I think I might steal some lines from this one for the story, so not only was it helpful to me in understanding my character but also in constructing my prose about Peter.

I said in my first entry that, that would probably be the longest entry but now I can see that wont be the case. Below I am going to attach a poem (A LONG POEM) that I wrote about 4 ½ years ago, it is in a man’s perspective as he witnesses the last days of the relationship with the woman he loves.

_________________________________________________________________________________

I want to remind you that I love her
Or, rather, I loved her
It became so hard after a while
I tried and I tried
It wasn’t her fault, it was mine.

She did everything for me
As I asked everything of her
She never bat an eye the other way
Or sighed at any request.

Dinner was ready when I came home
The house clean
She would always be freshly showered
And her face painted just so

I should have been thankful
I should have said I love you more often
I should have run down the bathroom door
When I heard her crying on the other side

But, I didn't
I never did
I wanted to
But, I couldn't

It must have been three years down the line
When I had finally distilled our life down to
My late nights out
And her keeping dinner warm in the oven

Though, one early Saturday morning
I crept over the threshold
No earlier than three-thirty
Shutting the door behind me ever so quietly.

I tip-toed past the dinning room
Noticed that dinner was set for two
Candles lit
And wine poured.

I stopped and stared at this for a moment
Found myself getting angry at the fact that
My dinner wasn't in the oven
That it was sitting out cold.

I left the room angered and entered the bathroom
Looking my face over in the mirror
My gray skin greatly contrasted to my bloodshot eyes.
The image I saw was surreal

I stared back ay myself for a good ling time
Trying to recognize this person in the mirror
I turned on the facet and let the water pool in my palms
Leaned my head down and splashed my face.

Looking back up, I still didn’t know who I saw

Tonight, more than ever
I reeked of the bar
Cigarettes, beer, and stale cheap perfume
I chocked on it all as I pulled off my shirt to step into the shower.

Not even the hottest water could cleans me
Not tonight
Not ever
This was ingrained in me

I breathed the bar
It had sunken into my pours
Grown out my hair
And was stuck between my teeth

The water had grown cold before I was satisfied
So I stepped out
Grabbed a towel
And made my way across the heap of clothes I left on the floor

Assuming she would pick them up the next day…

It was well past four now.

I made my way into the bedroom we shared
Noticed her laying on the bed
Holding all the pillows the way she always did
When I wasn’t laying next to her

But when I crawled in she always held me.

Being as it was mid summer
Even the dead of night
Was smoldering
She lay atop the covers in a small pair of underwear
And a T-shirt of mine

I traced her body with my eyes
And truly noticed her for the first time in months
She was sunken into herself
I hadn’t noticed before
But, it suddenly occurred to me that she couldn’t weight more than eighty pounds

A few weeks earlier I snuck away from work on a lunch break
Thought I might stop off at home for some food
I was relieved to find that she was in the shower
Never knew I was home

I passed by the porch
She had obviously been sitting outside not long before
There was half a cigarette in the ash tray
Still smoking
I didn’t even know she was a smoker
A mug of black coffee sat on the arm chair

I thought back to the first day she came to me
The tiniest little girl sipping on coffee
Fluttering her gray eyes
Over a book.

I couldn't pull my eyes off of her
And when she caught me staring
She’d smile or blush then drop her head back down to her book

I went over to her
Sat down across from her
Stumbled over my words
Assumed that I had made a fool of myself

I thought she would stand me up
When I suggested we meet the next day
But, she was there
Dressed in black
And sipping on a coffee in the back corner

We met everyday for weeks
And fell in love

What a beautiful affair we once shared
She inspired me
Instilled worth
Having something so beautiful under my arm…
I guess you could say, I felt accomplished

I can’t recall when it changed
If it was something she did
Or if it was all me

I am fairly confident, it was all me

Presently I turned toward the dresser
Stepped into a pair of boxer shorts
Turned back around to face the bed
About to crawl in next to her
When something on the corner of the room caught my eye

A small suitcase sitting on a chair
Half filled with neatly folded clothes
And a couple of pairs of pants
Strayed over the back rest

Her back was facing me
But, I leaned over her little frame
To take a look at her face
Her eyes were stained black
Even the pillows had black splatters
She had been crying

I pulled myself away from her ever so gently
As to not wake her
I laid on my back and put my hands behind my head
It wasn’t but a few seconds later
She woke

‘I love you, Honey’
She whispered as she kissed me on the forehead
Laid her arm over my chest
And snuggled her head into the curve of my neck

I never replied

Somewhere deep down
I wanted her to be angry with me
I wanted her to yell
Or hit
Or throw me up again the wall
Put me in my place

‘I hope you had a goodnight’
Her tone was not sarcastic
She wasn’t upset with the fact that we were an hour shy of sunrise
And I was just now getting home

I usually found a way to sneak away for the weekends
Not this one
I woke up mid day Saturday
To a clean house and lunch for me on the table

I sat down
She stalked up behind me
Rubbed my shoulders as I ate

We spent the rest of the weekend together
Making love
Laughing
Even caught a movie

Hardly a regular occurrence

Monday came too soon
And for the first time in a good couple of years
She wasn’t up before me
I kissed her back
Rolled out of bed
And made my way to work

I came home on time that night
The house was spotless
The table was set for one
I could smell dinner in the oven

I Walked into the kitchen
Expecting her there
But, no

I opened the oven and pulled out my dinner
Sat it on the counter
But, decided to check on her first

However, I couldn’t find her in the bathroom
Even the bedroom proved to be a worthless pursuit
She wasn’t on the porch either.

Oddly, there was a butt of a cigarette in the ash tray
Coffee on the arm chair
And a note sitting on the table

I felt weak in that moment
My stomach churned
And my palms broke out into a sweat

I grabbed the folded paper
Sat down in the chair
And read:

‘I’m sorry
Love was just not enough…’

Saturday, January 1, 2011

010111 "Happy Dos Mil Once" 56

I'm still at fifty six pages typed... But, I haven't started writing yet today. I have a three hour block of time reserved to write that will begin as soon as I smoke a bowl!

Last night was amazing! The club was PACKED. My man performed like GOD would've! Every time I see him perform I fall in love more. His energy and the way he can take control of a room astounds me! I think I love him most because of my curiosity of him. I have known him for four an a half years, almost, and I am still learning about him. Still trying to understand him and the power he has over me. Logically I know he is just a man, but I can't believe 'just a man' could have this much power over another human being

Power is a tricky when it comes to relationships. Maybe before feminism couples didn't have such a power struggle between them! Sometimes we do, but mostly I let him lead me, I consider myself to be in his power.

But, not the way Angela is under the power of Peter. Angela has no understanding of herself, which is why she completely lets go of her identity to become a reflexion, or rather a shadow of her husband. She identifies herself through him which is why she breaks when he begins to fall out of love with her. She has to discover herself before she can heal and this will be important in the latter half of the first part of the book. Nothing cataclysmic needs to happen to her, her story is about the healing powers of time or rather that time is just the distance between events, time is where change happens, and in time she will heal.

I think I will propose this as Beatriz starts school. Angela will jump from identifying herself through Peter, to identifying herself only as Beatriz's mother. She'll have to let go of Peter and Beatriz to discover herself. Respectively she will do so by moving out of Peter's home, and putting Beatriz in school a year later.

Since I haven't written anything yet today I will leave you with a random quote!

"Old letters written in haste between mother and daughter, sister and sister. Hand written on antique parchment filled with pain and sadness, and what’s worse, love. "