Research Rule #1: Don't Believe Everything You Read on the Internet

I've learned to check and double-check information gleaned from the internet. If somebody forwards an email touting the cancer cure Johns Hopkins has been hiding, I'll check the content at both Johns Hopkins and Snopes before spreading the good news. If I learn something brand spanking new about a research subject, I'll make certain the source is unimpeachable, and that I can reliably validate that information.

There are some things, however, that I do not question. If I read on the Fandango website that I can catch a showing of Iron Man at the Ioka Theater at 8 p.m., I'm going to believe it. And if I read on the Rebecca Nurse Homestead website that the hours starting June 15th include Thursdays from 10 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., I'll believe that, too. Silly me.

When I arrived at the homestead to sift through the remnants of Rebecca's life, it was closed. The two cars parked outside Rebecca's door lead me to believe somebody must be there, but my repeated knocks and calls of hello-oo went unanswered. I tried phoning the office on my cell, but got little satisfaction from the tinny voice on the answering machine. I left a slightly miffed message, then began roaming the homestead, snapping pictures.

Several clapboards had been replaced and not yet painted, the untreated wood slashing the home's red facade. A kitchen garden was unfolding outside the doorstep, it's neat little rows of corn just about knee high. Except for the two cars parked in the dooryard, I suspect things looked pretty much the same through Rebecca's eyes as they did through mine.

I wandered out to the cemetery where Rebecca's monument dominates the surrounding headstones. A second largish monument sits close to Rebecca's. It lists the names of the people who stood at her trial publicly testifying to her exemplary Christian character, brave souls all.

A pile of Putnams were buried over on the far side of the cemetery, direct descendants of the Putnams who accused Rebecca of witchcraft. How could such a revolting development not leave poor Rebecca eternally rolling in her grave?

As my visit wore on, my slight miffedness melted away. I was happy for the solitude and the chance to walk in Rebecca's footsteps. So what if I didn't get to go through the house? I had the run of the rest of the homestead. And I didn't have to pay $6.50 for the privilege.

Getting to Terse III

Attended my first Kindling Words conference this past January. Had an awesome time.

March Novel Madness (MnM) was born from that event. Based on National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), MnM had several of us committing to a set goal each day for the month of March. Spunky cheerleader that she is, Alison James got us up and running. She sent everyone a little calendar to keep track of our word count. She also sent 31 M & Ms to each of us so we could reward ourselves for every day we completed our goal.

I committed to 1,000 words a day, and since I also teach two days a week and wouldn't be able to write every single day in March, I started my stint in February.

I'm a middle grade novelist, who has never written a novel. Go figure. But I do indeed figure – full-time teaching, life, other writing interfered. Fear of the blank page had no small part in it, so I decided to take the zero draft approach for MnM.

As mentioned before, a zero draft is basically dumping everything that you have in your head onto the page. This approach seems like the right one for me, since I'm a tinkerer. A tinkerer who hates to start, because everything I always write seems like junk as soon as it's on the page. As soon as I start tinkering, I lose the momentum of my writing. You lose so much when you lose momentum. If you're a coward and a tinkerer like me, having something to work with is everything.

I came up with rules for myself pretty quickly. Don't use my wireless mouse or the little finger mouse-pad type thing on my laptop. No using the pg up or pg down key. I did allow myself to backspace, but only just a few backspace taps. No correcting spelling mistakes unless I had a really good reason to do so – like I'd never be able to interpret it once I went back to read it.

That was the other rule. I didn't allow myself to read anything I wrote the day before. To combat any memory loss from the day before (funny how that happens), I usually ended the session with a little note to myself where I might start the next day. I did allow myself to read that.

I set a time limit for myself. 1,000 words or 1 hour, whichever came last.

And, so, I began. I'll write more about this on Friday. Don't worry, I am getting to terse. It's just that you have to be so verbose to get there!