Interview on The Author's Show and Book Release for "Makeup Your Mind"

So many great things have been happening in the past few weeks I hardly know where to begin!

Let’s start at the shortest update about the longest string of words I’ve put together in a long, long time. NaNoWriMo. I won!

At 50,169 words I validated my “novel” on November 22, 2017. It felt great getting this win for multiple reasons.

First, I found the beginnings of the next Shaw McLeary Mystery, Missing Miles.

Second, I had a CRAZY BUSY month and still managed to pull out a win (more on that in a minute…).

And, finally, this is the first time I’ve won in seven years. Holy crap that’s far too long! I’ve taken part in the challenge 4 times over those 7 years (2012, ’14, ’15, ’16) but this is my first real win since 2010.

Which leads me into other intertwined updates of course…

One of the main things I did over the past couple months, aside from NaNo, was some marketing and promotion for my recently released book 30 Chapters in 30 Days: Write a 50,000 word novel without feeling blocked.

First, I shared some of my personal and professional advice with the readers of the NaNo blog in my article: NaNo Prep: How to Write Believable Characters (and Push Your Word Count!).

With that article looming out there, plus a book telling people how to make it through the challenge of NaNoWriMo I kinda figured I should get through it this year as well. I mean, practice what you preach, right?

Right!

In the spirit of that, I also took part in another internet radio interview. As mentioned in the title, my interview giving even more detail and info on 30 Chapters went live on The Author’s Show TODAY!

I’m going to do my best to create a link to the interview so you all can come back and listen anytime you like but the first broadcast of the show is a brief 24 hours and then, poof, it’s gone off their website.

Listen to my Author’s Show interview here until November 30, 2017, just click on my name in the gray box.

What a crazy experience that interview turned out to be behind the scenes. And you know I’m all about the brutal honesty over here, especially about myself, so here’s the tea.

I nearly fucked up this entire thing.

Okay, that could be a bit over-dramatic but not much. The day I was supposed to talk there were timing issues (in AZ we don’t do DST but at the time of scheduling neither of us realized the clocks would flip). All of that was my fault for lack of preparation. Ugh. What I will blame on myself, but still hold a grudge against technology for, were my issues with Skype.

When I thought I was calling Don, my interviewer, I tried about ten times and Skype kept kicking me off/out and forcing me to log back in. I rebooted multiple times but my laptop is a dinosaur and takes FORever to do anything.

I was already 30 minutes “late” and panicked because I had a chiropractor appointment right after our interview. One more reboot and Skype seemed to finally want to work. But it was already too late. I had to jam.

I called from my cell and left Don a rambling, probably incoherent message about how sorry I was. As I pulled up to my chiro, I picked up the message he left while I was driving.

The one that said I was a full hour EARLY. Like I said, DST.

After all the confusion we managed to reschedule (bless him!), and on that day I tested Skype minutes before the interview (Matt is my hero!).

Don called, we chatted, I was prepared AF and feel like it was one of the better interviews I’ve ever done. Talking about that book while in the throes of NaNo reminded me I needed to open her up and take my own advice for how to get through the challenge.

It worked!

I have so many chapters that will be cut when I edit but it helped me better see the characters and where they were going. It also helped me step away from caring if my novel was perfect. And, not gonna lie, it felt great to rack up another NaNo win!

So, of course, because I didn’t have enough going on already, in the midst of NaNo I also listed my latest, book 3, in the California Dreamin’ Series, Makeup Your Mind for preorder on Amazon.

Click the title in that last paragraph, or right here to pick up your copy today!

My nail art at the beginning of this post is my nod to the book cover:

And I’m soooooo excited to get this one out there. Cherry Davis might be my favorite character I’ve written since Perth. She’s spunky, sexy, and self-sufficient. She’s a young retail whore living and working in the mid-nineties in coastal Cali.

I’m in love with her. Seriously. I might need to see a therapist.

But, regardless, her story officially hits the digital shelves tomorrow November 30, 2017 and I couldn’t be more excited!

It has been a fun, frustrating, but overall totally satisfying career month.

I’d love (LOVE!!!!!) you forever if you’ve already read either 30 Chapters or Makeup Your Mind if you’d be so kind as to review them on Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews don’t really count for an author until there are at least 25 so please tell your friends, share the book love, share your opinion (even if you hated them both, I literally don’t care just review!).

Thanks!

And now, look out December, I’m coming in hot for a vacation. After the month I’ve worked, it feels like I’ve earned a week off.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Words are the Worst

I’m cranky. And if you’ll allow me a small moment to have a little pity party, the crankiness is all because I decided to take part in NaNoWriMo this year. So, like I said, you have to allow for the part where I’m all ‘woe is me’ because I’m fully aware I brought this pain on myself.

According to my page, this is my fifth time participating in the challenge. That equates to (as of today) two wins, two losses, one in process with potential to win, and, are you ready for this craziness, 176,266 words. So far. If I happen to pull off the win, add another 24k to that figure for a cool 200,000.

Since 2009.

And that figure only accounts for the words written for NaNo. Toss in anything I did for clients, blog posts, articles, everything else and no doubt I’ve written well over a million words in my lifetime as a professional writer.

Damn.

So it goes to reason that some days, no matter how badly I want to shape any combination of the available words in the English language, I just don’t have the creativity to form sentences.

Fun fact? When I looked up how many words exist in the English language it turns out the Oxford Dictionary says there are 171,476 available for use.

Less than the number of words I’ve written over the course of four and a half NaNos.

Again, damn.

Anyway, today is one of those days where I have time to spare, nothing to do but write. But something inside tells me I should be penning words for anything other than my book today.

That something is one of two things: fear or exhaustion.

I’m going with exhaustion and here’s why.

Back in 2009 when I sat down (on my mom’s suggestion, BTW) to tackle the motherfucker that NaNo actually is, I had no clue how to write a book. I’d never finished one before. So I opted into the challenge just so I could finally say I crafted a long form fiction story and typed The End for the first time.

Goal achieved.

And then some. Because, since that month seven years ago, I’ve finished and published seven titles. Five fiction, two reference.

Some of those titles came out of my NaNo experiences. One of them in particular, Reckless Abandon, came out of a Camp NaNo in August. A year I actually lost the challenge.

But I won my own challenge.

As a kid I was always a procrastinator, floating aimlessly along some vast ocean of possibilities and never wanting to choose a path. How limiting, I always thought, to pick just one thing to be. Couldn’t I be anything, everything I wanted to be like everyone told me back then? Sort of.

Wheee! Never settle into anything! Stay in the background of life so you never really need to commit to anything! Skate by! Hooray for choices! So many shiny choices!

And then I woke the hell up. Because no matter what I’d ever done to “pay the bills” (or more accurately, what I did for work and play without a care in the world for the future) it didn’t matter to me at all. I met some terrific characters at all those jobs, in all those clubs, at all those parties, but the only thing that stuck with me before, during, and after that time in my life, was writing.

There are few months, let alone years, in my past where I didn’t write. If I let myself dwell on the number of trees killed and ink expelled for my love of words over the years, it would scare me on an environmental level.

Bottom line, no matter what else was in or out of my life – love, money, work – I always had writing.

Right before Matt and I got together in fact, I was dating a guy who asked why I was home on a Friday night, writing, when I could be out doing whatever was cool to do back in those days.

We broke up shortly after that question arose.

Because if you don’t get why I’m doing that then you don’t get me. And I don’t need to waste my time being with someone who doesn’t get my love-hate relationship with words. The place inside me that is words.

Once I finally found myself able to say The End on a long story I knew it was all I would do for a career for the rest of my life.

I got over the fear of turning my deepest passion into a career years ago. That’s an entirely different blog post, one I’ve probably already written so I won’t write it again. But, suffice to say, the fear is long gone.

Honestly, I think that moment came when I finished NaNo in 2009 when I came away with the rough first draft of a finished book. It all became clear, I realized I could actually do it. Not just dream about being an author but I literally just made it happen.

With a shit ton of support, love and encouragement of course but in truth this is a very solitary profession.

I don’t get to take vacations while other people pick up the slack. I don’t get co-workers unless I decide to write a book with someone else. And even then, it wouldn’t matter because words are constantly forming in my head. Wherever I go, whatever I’m doing, I’m always working.

Last night a friend came over to give me a haircut and we got to talking about jobs. Matt mentioned how crazy his work is while he’s at work but that he gets to leave it behind at the end of the day.

I had a bullet of emotions pass through me. Jealousy being the predominant feeling. A little bit anyway. Because I’m never “off” in this life. I am my job and vice-versa. Every conversation I have, class I take, person I meet, job I do, everything in my life is tied to the work I do. Because how else am I supposed to create fictional characters that feel real without soaking in all that life shit from actual real people?

And that’s the hate side of things sometimes. I can’t just go out every Friday, sometimes I need to slave to the words because I’m already at capacity. Instead of overflowing from collecting, I need to drain a little off the top. Or the bottom I guess.

Either way, it’s like a sick form of bulimia being a collector of information from the world and then using it to inform an entirely new world. Binge and purge.

People who get me understand when I disappear that binge-purge is likely the cycle I’m going through.

So now I’m in NaNo and I’m not sure I really need the word-count accountability anymore. I love my process. I like taking a day off to refill the cup then shoot it down the next day only to vomit it all out onto the page in grand fashion the next.

Writing everyday isn’t a problem for me anymore. But sometimes I need to mix up what I write.

Once I broke through my own proverbial glass ceiling – finishing just one - there was no stopping me to keep going. Using NaNo like I used to seems unnecessary. So I’m flipping it over to the B side and using the challenge the way I need to in order to type The End once again.

Character and story development has me just over halfway on word count. Funny. Even though I’m not thinking I need the NaNo challenge with this book I might just harness my third win anyway.

But I’ll never get to that point unless I force myself to love words today and go write some about my characters.

You bet your ass that means I’ll be copy-pasting all 1350ish words from this blog in at the bottom of my manuscript. December is for edits!

Just kidding. I won’t even cheat that bad.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Off the Deep End

So here we are again. And by “we” I mean me and all the characters that live in my head. It’s November and for the first time in four years I’m back doing NaNo.

Yup, that’s right kids. The time for fiction has returned!

What’s that you ask? Have I gone off the deep end? Let’s just get all the questions out of the way now so we can push on unfettered:

“Um, are you crazy?”

“Didn’t you just start a business with a partner?”

“Aren’t you already working as a writer?”

“How do you plan to find the time?”

“Won’t you miss showering?”

“Won’t you miss your friends?”

“You won’t try to sell this thing you think will be a manuscript, will you?”

“Um, are you crazy?”

For those not in the know on the NaNo skinny (and why any and all of those questions up there are totally valid points)…

The challenge is to write a 50,000 word novel during just the month of November.

Sounds scary right? Well trust me, it is every bit as scary as it sounds. But I’m doing it anyway because fuck it. If I’m going to be a writer then I’m going to be the type of writer I want to be.

That I’ve always wanted to be.

But, there are so many reasons I gave up on the whole idea of being a freelance writer after 3 years. I had to have a long sit-down with myself to figure it all out. Which wasn’t too challenging considering I broke my wrist at the beginning of October. I had more than enough time to ruminate on life and career while I sat around doing nothing.

And, boy, do I ever mean nothing.

I was in a ton of pain, could not type, and I could barely move my left arm at all. Hell, I’m still in a temporary cast right now!

Last month was really a wakeup call in so many ways – personal and professional. I discovered many things that I never would have thought about before the moment when I incapacitated myself.

The biggies:

- Freelancing is not for me after all. Hey, I tried. Honestly I threw everything at the wall on that one and really wanted it to work out because it would’ve been nice to make a steady paycheck as a “real” writer. Alas, no matter what I did or what wall I tossed it at so little stuck that I just couldn’t justify wasting perfectly good shit like that anymore.

- I’m way to narcissistic to be a ghostwriter. Yeah, I really do need to see my own name, in print, on the cover of some amazing book that I wrote. I was good at ghostwriting but part of what I discovered is that my ego needs to release work into the world and, when people read it, they’ll know I wrote it.

- My words are worth more to me than the frustration of working like a dog for peanuts. I can make that writing fiction and have more fun in the craft again. I did make some money as a freelancer, that’s true, which of course was nice because I worked my ass off for it. I just couldn’t ever feel what I was writing.

- Freelance ghostwriting is essentially all marketing all the time. Sure, marketing is super important no matter what field you’re in, but I was always writing with a spin in mind – be it for a product or service – everything I wrote as a freelancer had the end goal of bringing in a sale. Hey, I’m all for that because I have shit to sell too. Which is why I’m glad I took a few years to really learn the concepts so I can now market my books instead of someone else’s product or service I have no vested interest in.

- I was reminded of something I’ve been saying since I worked in retail (circa 1996-ish.) I hate people. Most people are crazy, only out for themselves and pay no mind to your schedule, your business needs or anything else that matters in your life because they’re too busy worrying about all that same stuff for themselves. Just like me. It was time to get out.

Bottom line was that I missed writing from the imagination and not the wallet, I’m glad I learned better ways to sell my books though, and I’m using NaNo as the catalyst toward getting at least four out next year.

Yup. Four.

My goal is to get the heroine from my second book into a series and have her solving crimes all over this great nation for the next year.

Which reminds me…

Side perk of fiction I don’t get as a freelancer? A trip to Colorado can be a write off. Or a trip anywhere for that matter. Score.

By the way, I’m totally using this as word count today.

Just kidding.

No I’m not.

Or am I?

• • • • • • • • • • • The gods of blog comment technology are being big fat bullies - I can't comment on blogs unless they have a pop-up window comment form. So a new window opens when you click to comment here; sorry if you haven't seen me at your space for a while.
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Insert Sound of Chirping Crickets Here, Again

It’s the obvious question, ‘where the hell have you been?’ I’ve been working like a little maniac that’s where! Yesterday I uploaded my deposit, as it’s called, to the copyright.gov website so my novella, Reckless Abandon, is officially on its way to completion. And I’m thoroughly exhausted mentally and physically after getting this thing ready for release.

Driving back from a hike with a friend yesterday I told her that I’d been working on this since August 1, that it’s been slow and steady, and she said no way, rather that I pulled it together really fast. I started wondering – was it fast? Sure didn’t seem like it on this side of the fence.

Admittedly there were days tucked in there when I felt like a slacker who did a whole bunch of nothing but sit on my lazy ass and watch cheezy cable television. But for the most part I’ve been putting in ten hour days, on average six days a week, for the past twelve weeks to get this thing hammered out.

That’s a sixty hour work week for three months straight. 720 hours of needing to become multiple other personalities as I tell their story. A distinct lack of anything on my calendar other than ‘write & edit MS’. With the obvious exception of promoting my Blog Tour for Ripple the Twine back in August, a couple critique meetings editing 10 pages for 3 people, a few Writer’s meetings, my ten year anniversary, some happy hours with friends, trips (though not many) to Tucson to visit family, and starting up a workout program again. I’d say on average I write about 25-30,000 words a week between all of the above plus blogs & emails, etc. Um, uh-huh.

I’m fucking exhausted!

Can you blame me?

But two people have now told me how fast I pulled this novella together and it got me thinking. If I need 720 hours to complete a 30,000 word novella and worked like a normal person of 45 hours, 5 days a week, it would have taken me a full month more to complete the manuscript. And if I had an Agent/Publisher that’s about right for getting the book pulled together enough to send out (and have it ripped to shreds by their editor then sent back to be re-worked for production within the following two months).

The thing is, this is my job. I write full time. I don’t go leave my house to do other things during the day and I generally don’t fuck around. There’s a laptop or keyboard attached to my person all 720 of those hours. I have a career and this is it. So I dedicate myself to it all the way.

To do this job full time without making more than $4 a month in royalties is a mental siege, believe me. I struggle every day with wondering if I’m doing the right thing. If I should be out there in the trenches. Workin’ for the weekend. Workin’ for the piece of paper everyone else gets on a Friday afternoon that says here’s what you’re worth for the hours you put in. The validation that what you’re doing is worth something through financial gain. I admit, there are times I miss that.

But does it make me more valid to have a job that has a guaranteed number of hours with a guaranteed commute and a guaranteed paycheck? Does it matter that people don’t understand that I do work? That I work hard. Every day. Because see the real trick is dedicating myself to doing it. That’s where the real work comes in.

Most people would have trouble working the way I do - from home with no boss, no schedule, no set plan of what they’re supposed to do every day. Most people need the routine. And don’t get me wrong, “some money would be nice” but above and beyond that, this job feeds my soul. And not too many people can say that. I hate even admitting it out loud but I know for a fact my husband can’t say it about what he does for a living. But he has graciously given me the flexibility to do this job full time by going to a job he’s flipping amazing at but has no personal connection to doing other than the number of years he’s been doing it. And he does it partly to allow me to work my career with no promise, no guarantee that it will ever produce financial gain. And I couldn’t begin to thank him enough for that gift.

But of course we’re both secretly (okay, not so secretly) hoping that I will become the bread and butter maker in this household. I’d love to make more money than he does. He’d also love me to make more money than he does. And it isn’t exactly like we’re rolling in the dough over here. Quite to the contrary there are more times than not when our budget doesn’t allow for us to do the things we want to do.

Knowing that if I was making a paycheck we’d be able to do them, but that if I was making a paycheck I wouldn’t be writing books, is a constant battle I have to rise above in my mind. Because if I let that spin I’d go insane. Not to say it hasn’t happened. At least twice a year I have a nervous breakdown over what I’m doing. That conversation tends to go like this:

“At least when I was running Chucka Stone I was making some semi steady income.”

“Yeah and your writing took a back seat.”

“I know but…”

“But nothing. Shut your pie hole and keep writing damn it.”

And that’s not the conversation I have with Matt (though those usually end in a similar fashion) this is the one I have with myself. Yeah writers do tend to not only talk to but answer themselves. We have too many characters floating around in that brain of ours not to.

Anyway.

One of my very favorite Authors, Jen Lancaster, came to read in Phoenix recently and announced that she’s on a two book per year schedule. It isn’t unheard of in the industry these days. In fact I imagine the ability and dedication to pumping out two books a year keeps you pretty active on the internet. And we all know the internet is the way to market these days right? Wait, it is, isn’t it? Because I keep hearing these rumors…

I’m doing NaNo in November so this week I’m using to my advantage in catching up with some people, blogs, guest posts and completing the formatting of Reckless Abandon for Amazon. It probably sounds like a lot but to me, well let’s just say I’m looking forward to what will surely be a slow week in comparison to the usual.

Pretty Vacant…

Being a Writer, being a rock star…what’s the difference really? For me, I’m not sure there is much of a difference. We’re both out there workin’ it to try to sell some kind of image or piece of work that we poured a big chunk of our heart and soul into creating. The sweat, tears, frustrations, celebrations, nights out, nights in, flexing of that creative muscle all blend into one carefully crafted piece of artistic expression.

Ugh, even writing that last line kind of makes me want to gag it sounds so cheezy (though it’s true). Which makes me notice one very important fact.

This week I’m starting to feel like the hotel trashing, punk rock type.

I’ve got a deep desire to toss television sets off of tenth story balconies and its starting to boil. I have to do something with it before it blows. Before I go and throw something, anything, that is.

I’m at the part of my manuscript where I’m trying to break through the plastic wrap that’s stretched across the train tracks of word count. I’m pushing and pushing at what feels like full steam but it seems the wrap is too thick to break through. It’s like I’m fighting the man.

Facing that makes me want to do one of two things. Either give up entirely…or say fuck it, I will write that scene and to hell with you if you think I can’t. That’s right bitch. You heard me.

Don’t I sound all gangsta and shit?

Did I spell gangsta correctly?

It pretty much all comes down to this - even though I would personally never do what they’re about to do, I’m not my characters. They would do whatever it is. That’s the story that needs to be told. I can’t let my personal feelings interfere with their personalities. Not everyone is the same. My character in this most recent manuscript is similar to me in only the following four ways – she’s late thirties, married, is a writer, and lives in Phoenix.

But she’s like a rock star – up all night, globe-trotting, moving and shaking quick, quick, quick! Well she has to be (details on that later) and I have no choice but to tell exactly what she needs me to tell. This isn’t my memoir, mofos, if I’m going to tell someone else’s story then I can’t let my own infiltrate the pages.

But I’ve also come to learn that I’m also just like a punk rocker right now. Well…sort of.

• I am in dire need of copious gallons of certain substances just to keep going.
• I would, of course, be referring to coffee.
• There are days when I’m cool while other days I say fuck the man and skip my gig on purpose just to screw with the system.
• When the faucet’s off you’ll find me strung out on almonds and blueberries, sitting on my sofa all day long, watching the Lifetime Movie Network. This is no different from days where I’m inspired, of course. On those days I have a laptop in my lap so I click away for eight hours with granola and LMN.
• My co-workers have been known to kick things, break stuff, and/or punch people.
• Of course all my co-workers are located in my head so I can pretty much let them run amok without real things, stuff or people being kicked, broken or punched. But it’s still fun even when it’s not real.
• I go to bed and wake up at ungodly hours.
• Lately I’ve been known to fall asleep at 10PM and wake up before 6AM. Watch out, I’m crazy like that. I may even stay awake until eleven. Lock up anyone you’re close to…I’m obviously way out of control.
• Sometimes I go almost full days without eating and rely on drugs to get me through.
• Caffeine and nicotine kept me alive over the Christmas seasons in the early nineties while working at Victoria’s Secret , so its sure to be enough now too, right? Well, that and the granola.
• I portray the image of a crazy as hell fantasy world because I live it, yo.
• All day long I have to allow my mind to embrace an entirely different life so I can accurately express the story my characters are trying to tell. It’s like being an actor without a camera. That shit can be exhausting.
• I’ve been known to trash a room or two in my day.
• You should see how much dust there is on my entertainment center and seriously, there isn’t a single dish in the cabinet because they’re all either clean in the dishwasher or dirty beside the sink waiting for the dishwasher to be emptied and refilled. When I’m on a roll writing 3500+ words in a day there’s not a minute to spare to deal with real life. Pffft.

So maybe I am a little punk rock after all. At least in my own way.

Anyway, the writing in this case is actually going pretty well. I’m behind the CampNaNoWriMo goal by a little over a day’s word count, but I’m not all that nervous to be honest. Making it to 50k by the end of August isn’t my main objective. It would be cool, sure, but what I really want is the bones for a solid book concept not just 50,000 useless words I never end up doing anything with.

For those of you that aren’t writers (or have even a teeny bit of interest in hearing about the random day-to-day of one) I’ll apologize right now. Because over the course of the next month or so that’s all you’re likely to read about over here. If I write anything here at all. MS3 is in process and lit up like pyrotechnics on the big stage right now.

On second thought, forget that. No I’m not really sorry that’s all you’ll be reading about. I take it back, this is my blog and I’ll write about writing if I want to. So there.

Yeah! That’s right! Punk rock, bitch!

It Starts Tomorrow

If you've been hanging around these here parts long enough you know about my crazy past two years doing National Novel Writers Month (NaNoWriMo, or NaNo, for short) during November.  For those who haven't been reading here since at least last November, NaNo is a thirty day challenge to complete an entire 50,000 word novel during just the month of November. 

Yes that's only thirty days, in case you thought you read that wrong, you didn't.

Its a brutal siege on your mental energy.  People in your life don't understand why you haven't showered in a week and a half.  Spouses figure out ways to automate the coffee pot to drip directly into the mug in your office which you haven't left for three straight weeks.  You learn impressive new techniques for ways to sleep while you type.

As I said to someone earlier this morning, I've never taken part in something so challenging yet equally (or more) rewarding in my life.  And I've been lucky enough to do it and win the challenge for the past two years in a row.

But not this year.

It pains me to even think that I'll have no excuse for being crotchety this November, that I can't play off my pale skin and wide eyed insomnia on character development, but with the new challenge of school plus a little travel in my plans next month NaNo just wasn't in the cards this year.

I have a manuscript that I wrote during NaNo in 2009 that has been edited to hell and is now being shopped for representation for publication.  I also met the goal last November but despite hitting something like 58,000 words last year, that one hasn't been opened since.  And you want to know what is so strange about that fact?  I love my characters in that book more.  Sorry RtT but my untitled second manuscript has my heart.

Probably because it hasn't been finished.  Once I've read it that many times I'm sure my feelings of murderous deletion of every single main character will take hold.  But until then I'm savoring them all.  So during November I plan to bring my MS along for the ride and do the re-writes I've been so desperate to begin as well as the necessary edits to what I've currently got in order to spring this book back into life.  It won't be the same but at least it will be writing.  And if all goes according to my nefarious plan I'll have two manuscripts complete by early next spring.

And be a red carpet walking mega writer type by next fall.  Ah yes, dare to dream.

The insanity begins tomorrow.  I'm pretty sure a couple friends are doing it again this year and I not only applaud you but also, picture me holding pom-poms in the shape of a typewriter and giving you the old college fight cheer.  Okay, the typewriter thing is dorky I know but seriously Wrimos, best of luck for a successfully completed challenge in 2011! 

Go do some finger exercises, finish those outlines and pick up your 10 pounds of coffee grounds now then get typing tomorrow!  Looking forward to being back to joining all of you next year.

Badge retrieved from the NaNoWriMo Website & doctored by me to include the word "non" in Photoshop.  Sadly.

Truth Be Told, It Is Time to Transition

It is time to stop doing all of the old and tired things I used to do and move my energy into new things so I can create the life I want to lead. This is the thesis statement, the item I need to prove. Most writers take the entire length of the article to do so but I can prove it within the first paragraph. Why do I say this? Because if the old stuff was working toward me living the life I want I’d pretty much have it by now, don’t you think? And I don’t. Guess its time to move on.

(As a side note…Do me & my thesis amuse you? Those of you who don’t understand the reference should go and buy this album right now.)

And now back to my regularly scheduled rambling on…

Three of my friends -- my drum instructor, mom’s best friend and Trayce -- all got in touch with me in various ways over the past week with links to self publishing houses. All different ones, some local, some authors who’ve done it, some who are attached to big name houses. I’m thinking that maybe it’s a sign.

I’ve been asked if I ever considered self publishing before (and the answer is yes) so it’s not like this light bulb over my head where I thought ‘A-ha the golden ticket to Wonkaville!’ or anything like that. The suggestions to try it were just more scattered, not coming at me in one big rush before, so I had pushed it under the rug. But the pile of dirt under there looks like a mountain now so I strongly need to consider giving it weight. Of course other stuff needs to happen before I even consider doing anything with Ripple the Twine.

First, if I start looking into self publishing, every single thing I’ve ever read suggests that writers still get an agent. So I’ll be starting up that process again. Query, query, query until my little bitty fingers become nubs on the keys…and then I can probably still bang out a few more. But that’s in December (better known to us WriMos as NaNoEdMo).

Second, my very good friends Dianna and Ginger recently suggested that perhaps I should be writing short stories for magazines. It’s a great idea and will keep my creative muscles flexing even when I’m not working on something lengthy like a book. I have an account with HUB Pages and it will be a good start to post stuff there until I can acquire a few magazine subscriptions to various publications where my work might fit in.

(“What am I gonna do with 40 subscriptions to Vibe?” -- You know you were thinking it!)

Something that needs to go, sad as it may be, is any and all distractions that keep me from my goal of being a full time writer. Yes, this quite likely includes my company. I won’t close the doors of Chucka Stone Designs decorative paint treatments, I just won’t be out there pimping it. But what will be closing is my Etsy shop.

I plan to hang onto it through the end of the year but it really isn’t benefiting anyone so its just a time suckage that I don’t need anymore. No one shops there and the rent is getting a little high. Of course with the closing of the shop also comes the withdrawal from the team I’m a member of, EcoEtsy. This will be tough because there are so many awesome people in this bunch but I can still keep up with most of them in Greenpreneurs on Facebook so it won’t be a total loss.

That also means I’ll be giving up writing for their blog. And this is the reason I’ll be sticking it out until the end of the year, I’m committed to writing all the Monday News & Views posts for December because my co-editors were kind enough to give me November off for NaNo (♥LOVE♥).

Things that I will still keep up with are this blog of course and Facebook, sometimes twitter although I can’t always access it, and in writing here I will definitely still read all of my favorite bloggers.

But…and this is a big but…other than all of you awesome people that I read all the time (and you know who you are by now I hope) any new blog reading I take on is going to pretty strictly have to do with writing -- getting published, self publishing, published writer’s inner thoughts, etc. I have to start immersing myself into the life and culture or else I will only flail about even more.

And this brings me to my final, and probably the biggest, transition I plan to initiate. Within the next eight months Matt and I are moving to Arizona. His line of work is huge in the Phoenix area, prices for housing are much cheaper, my sister and friend and his dad and step mom are close by plus there’s the weather…oh the weather!

It isn’t even about the temperatures so much as the constant sunshine. Okay, it’s a lot to do with the temperatures too. I’m really just weary of it here. There is nothing for me here other than my family members that I still see and those people are mobile (and so are we) enough that we can go back and forth to spend time together as often as we can. Not to mention by keeping social networking sites I’m instantly connected.

No, its not the same as being in the same room, I get that, but the room we have here hardly fits half of them inside it anyway and its costing us an arm and a leg to pay for (and getting rid of those pesky appendages is about the only way we could fit more people in here).

I’m just seriously coming to the realization that Matt and I do not fit here anymore, in the physical or spiritual sense, we’ve moved into a different phase of life than everyone we know. Truth be told, I really have nothing in common with my friends anymore except a very rich past. Not having kids puts us in a completely different place than most of them but I stand by my choice not to bring more babies into this world. That’s me. But without that to schedule play dates around or whatever its just more and more difficult to see the parents of those wonderful kids because they get involved in the activities their children take on as they get older.

And yea for them, its encouraging to see that some people still take an active role in raising their children, its just that I do not fit into that world. Being an Auntie only takes you so far and then its best to give up being a hanger-on. Ya know?

Anyway, I’m just babbling as usual but suffice to say the next year will be producing a whole lot of interesting changes in my life and I’m fully ready to embrace all of them. I’ll be sure to share the links to my short stories when they’re up over at HUB pages.

Thanks for sticking it out with me, leaving comments and showing your love and support all this time everyone. I hope that I’ve been even half as supportive for all of you!

Spelling it Out on Eleven Eleven

This is not going to be about my book and the hell known as week two but I still want the search engines to find me if its related to writing, so bear with me while I pimp it for a second then read on for something really swell...

NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo10, National Novel Writing Month, writing a book in 30 days is a freaking recoculous idea, wtf did I get myself into (again), I hate all my characters, I think I’ll kill off all my characters in a tragic blimp accident, let’s see what’s going on over at Facebook/twitter/blogger/NaNo forums/my eBay watch list/the inside of my refrigerator/the Wiki about common beans, perhaps this writing thing is a load of crap, I suck at typing, word count can kiss my big old ass, dictionary.com is my homepage…

Okay, that’ll do.

Now onto other more enjoyable topics such as the fact that today is my very favorite day! Today is eleven eleven! (Yes, I spell everything out for word count now). It isn’t my favorite day because it’s Veteran’s Day (which would have been sooo fitting to have been yesterday on the anniversary of the Marines inception don’t you think?) but because of the number itself: 11/11. Isn’t it just cool?

Mystical, magical, I don’t know. There has just always been something about the number eleven since I was a kid. A little kid. Recently I was sorting through a whole bunch of crap that I’ve held onto over the years and I found this wonky survey that I made up that only my sister and I took. Of course favorite number was one of the questions; I wrote 11. I don’t think I was much older than that at the time.

Let me back up for a second and explain, for those of you who didn’t spend half of your tween years folding up pieces of notebook paper into clever little fortune telling devices, just what the survey was. Remember that scene in Sixteen Candles where Samantha (Molly Ringwald, before the dance so aptly named for her became a global phenomenon) is answering the ‘have you ever done it’ survey and then she’s supposed to pass it on to a friend? Yeah well it was just like that only for ten year olds so ya know, the sex questions turned into stuff like ‘who’s your favorite movie star’.

Okay in all fairness I know that most ten year olds these days know more about sex than I probably still know, but back then we were all idiots and stupid surveys were our version of the internet.

But, as usual, I digress.

When Drew Bledsoe came to New England as our quarterback pretty much the only reason I liked him at first was that he proudly wore number 11. Of course when he started to kick our sorry ass team back into gear he became that much more awesome but still, the eleven was what really compelled me. I guess you could say it Drew me to him…haha, oh I just kill me.

It is pretty much a daily occurrence that I look at a clock at 11:11. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night. Sometimes both. And I always point it out by literally pointing at it and saying ‘oh look, its 11:11, well of course it is.’

Nothing major happened when I was eleven…

Okay wait, that might not be entirely accurate.  That was the year I met my BFF who is still my oldest and closest like-family friend in the world, I finally left the hell known as grammar school (truthfully my least favorite years, I even enjoyed junior high school more) and I also went to Disney World for the first time so I suppose one might argue that I had a pretty significant year that year. 

Significant, at least, to an eleven year old who’s sitting around making up silly surveys that I intended to pass around to my friends but never did.

There are some who say I should make wishes when I see something that reads 11:11, that it is fortuitous, coincidence, or really special.  But to me it is simply a time of day, another reason to notice my favorite number.

Then again, maybe eleven is the magic number.  My magic number.  Guess what time I’m going to schedule this to post today?

If I Were A Plot Point Where Would I Be?

I suppose about a quarter of the way finished that’s where. And that’s good because a quarter of the month is already gone. Just like that…poof! But don’t worry faithful readers who would rather hear about anything other than my word count (9238 currently, I’m just sayin’…) I won’t go on and on about NaNoWriMo today. There are so many other topics to cover! Right?

And suddenly my mind goes silent…birds start chirping, I hear the empty void of a hollow brain, filled only by the sweet sounds of my character’s voices and start to think, what would Donna write in a situation like this?

Donna McCarthy is a 42 year old widow who lives, works and blogs in Boston. She suffered a fairly painful past that included losing a child at age ten to a drowning incident which forced a wedge between herself and her husband where he became verbally abusive and she sat back and took it because she was so lost she felt there was nothing else for her to do. Ten years later she loses her husband suddenly but instead of withering into a puddle of goo she rises to the occasion and slowly begins to claim her life back over the next three years.

On the advice of her boss as well as her best friend, she ventures back into the world of dating. On the advice of her therapist she starts taking numerous random classes to discover just what she really enjoys in life. When Donna starts writing a blog to chronicle her foray back into the world of the living she discovers an entire community of people who share her feelings of loss and life. One man in particular, Jake, seems to be coasting right along her wavelength and she starts to fantasize what life might be like if they were together.

Only problem, he is in Arizona and she is in Boston. So they continue flirting mercilessly online for months and share in each other’s love woes until one day when Donna meets Doug. For the first time in years she feels like maybe there could be a guy out there in the real world. After all her botched attempts at meeting people online and the countless string of bad dates she has been a participant in over the years, Doug seems, dare she say it, normal.

But no matter how much fun they seem to have, Donna is always waiting for the other shoe to drop and she never allows herself to really get close to Doug. So why is Jake acting like a jealous boyfriend in every comment he makes on her blog? And what will Doug do when he discovers she has put their entire dating history and all its steamy details online for the whole world to read? Could Donna be pushing away the one man who really loves her to live in a fantasy that lives 3,000 miles away?

Or something like that.

In fact none of the development above is really set in stone right now except the character names and the potential for a love triangle. I might make Jake a liar and Donna finds out he’s really a 27 year old Accountant living in Vermont (but only after she really figures out that she loves Doug of course). I might make Doug run away when he discovers her blog. I might make Donna fly to Arizona for a week at a spa with her best friend and have Jake blow her off the whole time she’s there so we start to hate Jake (because we’re really going to need to hate him so we get why she’s with Doug). For a while I kicked around making Jake & Doug the same person which means Jake lied about his location and all but the way the characters were unfolding it just didn’t fit. I can’t decide if her mom is evil or not and I can’t decide if she keeps in touch with her former in-laws. Opening up a sister-in-law character could add the conflict this happily ever after story will need.

Because regardless of what happens within the story you and I both know she will live happily ever after. My characters always do because I like sunsets and people riding off into them. I like kisses that fade into the soft glow of a candle’s flame. I like tying things up that used to be a big old mess into a neat and tidy perfectly pressed bow of awesomeness. Call it the romantic in me.

The thing that really surprised me this week is (dare I say it out loud without hundreds of torch carrying NaNoWriMo participants hunting me down?) how easy it was to write. Last year’s was not bad, I hit my word count or above everyday and the characters definitely developed personalities and all that happy crap but this year I feel like they’re just...I don't know, I guess, for lack of a better description, real.

It is so hard to describe but I know the fellow writers around these parts will understand. I’m loving it, truly, because it means my writing is short and sweet bursts of really lengthy stuff that actually flows. It reads well, every character seems to have a very distinct voice and my count just keeps ticking up. I love NaNo10!

Okay that is all, don’t hate me. Please?

Working Title 2010

Wait…Monday is the first of November? Oh surely you must be mistaken, it can’t be the first yet, I don’t even have a complete outline or more than two characters developed. It can’t be time for NaNoWriMo 2010 already silly, I must have at least three or four more months to go.

Don’t I?

No, really, don’t I?

No, I don’t. The stark reality hit this morning that it all starts Monday…holy crap. I just read through the latest newsletter from the Office of Letters and Light and all of a sudden my palms got clammy. Yes for real. Immediately following the drops of beaded sweat on my hands my stomach did something resembling Shaun White ripping a big backside rodeo 540 and I got all nervous like I was about to try pulling one off too.

And no, don’t ask, I don’t really have a clue what a big backside rodeo 540 is, I just know that it very likely involves flipping around in mid air while plummeting downhill at an insanely fast rate of speed.

I’m in alright shape compared to last year when I didn’t have a single name, profession, or any other character point written, other than my female main character’s name and what she did for a living, but somehow by the end of it all I managed to write in the neighborhood of fifty three thousand words. And when it was finished just a couple months ago it registered at something like fifty eight thousand. (I’m also practicing writing out everything now for word count so instead of only one word by typing '53,000' I get three. Clever, eh?)

And 58,000 is not bad.

So why am I freaking out? I know who my main character is and I have a pretty good handle on her back story plus I already know who her best friend is going to be and I got the super duper inspiration not too long ago for exactly how this story is going to unfold. Oh and yesterday I came up with a pretty good title for this thing based on her profession and station in life.

Um, yeah, I’m way further ahead this year than I was last year. So what gives huh? Maybe I’m nervous because I’ve already done it so now the pressure is on to win again. It's one thing to quickly vomit a whole bunch of words onto a page and call it a book, it's quite another to realize this is the career I want and all that puke is going to have to be cleaned up into something respectable afterwards right?

Or maybe I’m just afraid that I won’t hit fifty thousand words and that whole fear of failure thing is taking a foothold.

That’s much more likely the case. And you know something? I am okay with that because if I don’t go and hold myself accountable for the way this thing pans out no one else will. It isn’t as if the people from the Office of Letters and Light are going to send a torch carrying mob to my front door demanding I finish on or before November thirtieth right? Right. And it also isn’t as if I have an Agent (yet) who is holding a big fat advance check in their hands with my name on it that they aren’t allowed to turn over to me until I finish.

I guess I just need to start writing and let the chips (and mugs full of coffee, plans with friends, droplets of water from the non existent showers in my future, rays of sunshine I won't see for a month…) fall where they may.

After all, it is only a book.

Right?

Beautiful Transformation in the Neighborhood?

Insert sarcasm here.

Your landscapers showing up at eight o’clock in the morning with their leaf blower right outside my window is super inspiring.

Ugh. Its times like this that I usually turn on music or the television but at eight in the morning I just refuse to interrupt my own desire for silence. The sound outside is making its way into my house and all the way down to my nerves, this is true, but I’m not the one who was in charge of that noise. Eventually I know it will go away and I can go back to my little Zen space where the only noise I hear is me cutting and pinning a bunch of fabric.

Most days I don’t turn on music. I got out of the habit last year when I did NaNoWriMo because when I listened and wrote simultaneously the emotion in each song started coming through in the narrative and dialog and my characters started sounding completely schizo. Obviously not a desirable outcome in a 230 page book, unless one of my characters happened to be a schizophrenic. But they weren’t. So I turned off the iTunes and opted instead for crime dramas (which now I’m so hopelessly addicted to I should be writing mysteries or cop books…but I digress…)

So most days I revel in the silence of the morning, and sometimes part of the afternoon, until I either start stitching on the machine or clicking the keys to write. Either way, I wouldn’t be doing those things right outside my neighbor’s window at eight o’clock in the morning because, hello, not everyone is on the same schedule as me. Is common courtesy of waiting until a decent hour (say, nine or later when people are typically up and at work) asking for too much in the city? Perhaps, I think with a sigh, but that doesn’t mean I have to be one of those people who are blind to everyone else.

After they turned the blower off all I could think about was the whirring sound of the motor and wondered how much gas/electricity it was burning with every spin of the blade. It made me wonder if they give a crap about the planet at all. Maybe they really do but they have to do that kind of work to survive; no matter what they have to do they will go out there and do it in order to feed their family.

Compromised values in the name of food on the table and mortgages paid? The stark reality of today’s society.

But that is just too deep for such an early start to the day…seriously, shake it off! I know life isn’t light and roses and rainbows shooting out one’s ass at all moments but I can’t bring myself down with thoughts so depressing so early or I’ll end up getting nothing done today while I lament the pains of the world.

Instead…

Let’s talk about the ways I love the planet. I’m using up the last of a whole slew of fabrics to make all kinds of stuff for the craft fair, but you already know that if you’ve spent any time over here in the past couple weeks.

Want to hear something new? Well okay…a few months ago I got turned onto this gal’s blog, New Dress A Day, which is one woman’s journey to spend no more than $1 per day on a dress or similar thrift shop item that she then transforms into something modern and wearable.

Think 2XL muumuu that she ends up wearing with boots and tights out to a bar that night. I know it probably seems impossible but she pulls it off and with only a minimum of instruments -- scissors, seam rippers and a sewing machine. Not to mention her vast imagination to take the ugly and shapeless and turn it into something amazing and one of a kind. Seriously inspiring stuff!

Because I’ve been inspired by her awesomeness I decided to give it a try. Now I didn’t spend any money on the first 2 items I plan to transform, they came from my grandmother’s old stash of stuff but we’ll see what I can do with them.

First is an animal print top in black and white with a thick, black, mock turtleneck collar, long sleeves, shoulder pads and belt loops (but no belt). I might go sleeveless with that one but no matter what, the shoulder pads will be g.o.n.e. by the end of its transformation.

The other is a top and skirt in a taupey tan made out of a T-shirt type knit. The top has a collar and long sleeves (and absolutely no shape at all) and the skirt has an elastic waistband. If worn like a skirt it would fall at just about my mid shin (the worst spot for me because it makes me look even shorter) so I’m planning to add halter straps or something to the neckline to keep it up and then use it as a sleeveless long shirt dress over tights.

That’s the plan right now anyway. But all that will have to wait until craft fair madness is behind me. Just 4 more days and I can stop making these:

And start selling them instead. Hey I’m going to need a bunch of room in the sewing closet for all of those inexpensive thrift shop finds I scour. Maybe extending the lifecycle of some truly awful clothes in my house will make up for the planet stomping that occurs outside of it. One can dare to dream.

A Time to Every Purpose

Does it always have to be so perfect and lengthy? My blog that is. More specifically each post. The realistic answer is probably not. I’d likely get a whole heck of a lot more comments if I didn’t ramble on for 1500 solid words every time.

But that just wouldn’t be me now would it? Comment whore or not I will suffer with the lack of them to put my verbal vomit out there.

Who knew one could use the words ‘whore’ and ‘vomit’ in the same sentence? Oh wait, Vegas…

So there are a whole lot of happenings going down, stuff I’ve joined and things going on so it makes me wonder if I really can get back to posting more regularly (?). First of all there is the Book Club which is so rad. I always wanted to join a book club and now I did so yea! We read & reviewed Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert last month and September is all about The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bend. I’m looking forward to that one on mere title alone.

Because, really, who doesn’t love lemon cake?

Then again maybe I have eaten too much of it lately because exercise is about to take up a whole big chunk of the page in the current chapter of my life. I finally got back on my treadmill (now that temperatures in Boston have calmed back from the upper 90’s and humid) and on the suggestion of a good friend who is doing and sticking to it, we’re picking up P90X in a couple weeks with the next paycheck.

I have to, really, because no matter how much I avoid looking at my stomach, every time I do catch a glance it baffles me how it can possibly have morphed into the shape of an entire pizza plus a five piece chicken selects. Or maybe the selects went to my ass? Huh, no, that’s probably due to all the cheese and fries. (Ooh, cheese fries…)

Fast food. My one true nemesis on this planet.

So because a few of us were feeling a similar need to shed there is the new Fitness Club! Basically we’ll all talk about our good, healthier habits and give each other some virtual high fives for the efforts we’re all making toward being healthier people. No weigh-ins, no weight revelations, no pressure. And I love that.

While I’m spending all that time on the gerbil wheel I might as well get some kind of benefit so I’m reading a lot of Chick-Lit too. I really forgot how much I loved reading stories about dynamic women. Back when I was younger we simply called it ‘Fiction’ but the aforementioned mildly misogynistic catch phrase gained momentum and stuck.  So now, according to the industry, that’s what I write.

Some of the books I’ve read recently have been memoirs. I gobbled up all but one book by Jen Lancaster so far. She is hilarious, open and really, really good at conversational voice. I identified with her style and situations right away. Well, except I never owned & had to sell anything by Prada and I’m not a Republican but otherwise I get everything that flows out of that woman’s fingers. Right down to the constant cursing.

Though, unlike Word who has just presented me with a little red squiggle, at least I do know what Prada is.

Faux has trailed off again and honestly that is fine. After six straight weeks of body breaking labor work I’m fully content to not have to climb, roll, cut, pounce, sand or tape anything for a while. Plus, NaNoWriMo is coming up and I really have to start thinking up some baseline character stuff.

We went out a week or so ago with a friend of mine and I had one of those nights where my little notebook and pen got whipped out so often with hilarious inspiration that I should have had a mini voice recorder instead.

And FYI? People in locals-only type bars give very odd looks to 37 year old women in sweats and a bucket hat who “take notes” all night. But ask me if I care. I have another novel to start in less than sixty days people! There is no time like the present to create a character.

Oh, and FYI x 2? People in bars are some seriously interesting characters.

With NaNo comes the lack of ability to focus on pretty much anything else so before that whirlwind begins it seemed right to do one craft fair this year. It’s the same one I did a couple years ago in Melrose and I’m looking forward to it, mostly because I plan to whip up a whole bunch of fun home décor from fabric and faux and sell the pants off it.

Two goals achieved -- 1. I make something out of all the reclaimed fabric I have gathering dust in my craft closet and 2. all the fabric in my craft closet finally goes to a good home that isn’t mine.

Which leads me into the next eight week project. Not only creating craft fair merch but really organizing my entire crafty life. (Now all I hear in my head is the Beastie Boys…) I have so many old photographs just dying to be attached to the pages of the umpteen half filled or empty scrapbooks taking up space in yet another cabinet. Something tells me I’ll gain space by putting them together.

So in short (not) I guess its time to reorganize and reclaim my life back. The physical, mental, intellectual and spiritual. Not to mention financial or any other ‘al’ that happens to pop up.

Only 965 words this time, not too bad.

En la Puesta de Sol

Pretty much all the Spanish I know I retained by repeatedly watching the scene where Mouth translates to Rosalita for Mrs. Walsh in The Goonies. And also, of course, Sesame Street. Which means I can muddle my way through the Español version of ‘One, two, three, four, please can I have some cocaine & heroin so I don’t have to lock you in the closet for two weeks without food or water? Thank you, friend!’, but anything else is a stretch.

So when I found myself sitting home on a Saturday afternoon with nothing better to watch than The Day After Tomorrow on the Spanish channel (seriously, not even some really good infomercials, WTF?), I knew it was time to start writing again.

Either that or maybe I should just learn Spanish so I have a clue what they’re saying.

Without understanding the words during the commercials, I rely on pictures, inflections and facial expressions to tell me what’s going on. What I discovered is the Spanish population is really excited about everything that’s for sale, and most often I was told how much they love their Fiber One cereal.

I was proud of myself that I completely understood that ‘ochenta cero dos ochos uno ochenta cero cero’ meant 800-881-8000. Maybe more sunk in than I originally imagined back in high school.

It isn’t as difficult to figure out what’s going on during the movie because I know it pretty well, but not well enough to quote it (like The Goonies). It’s cool to watch knowing the premise and general storyline though. I can just listen and try to pick up some words without having to strain too much.

This is the way I want to relate myself to the world of being a writer -- not really understanding much about the process, but a fairly avid reader who is still, for some reason, drawn to it. Enough to keep pushing forward, even though I often feel like I’m flailing about in confusion and haven’t yet made any real progress.

I guess there’s a learning curve with every new job I’ve ever done so this is that time for me when I look down at my business card that says ‘Writer’ and I wonder what in the world I’m doing. But then I remember that what I’m doing is what I always wanted to do so a few learning experiences in the process shouldn’t throw me for that big a loop. Right?

Hell, I was the co-manager of a Victoria’s Secret store for two years and when I started there not only did I have no clue how to fold a bra (yes, there is in fact a correct way) but all my skivvies came from Bradlees.

Now when I go into Vicky’s, I can easily spot who the shoplifters will be and sell not only a new bra and matching panties to whomever I’m with, but also a bottle of body lotion as if I still worked there. Not to mention if the employee in the front room doesn’t say hello as I enter, I want to call the president to report them.

How’s that for embedded into the company culture, seeing as though it’s about ten years since I left that job. Plus I will never wear cheap undergarments again, that much I know after working for a foundations company.

The one thing I know with absolute certainty when it comes to visual media, however, is that I have a soft spot for happy endings. Okay, it isn’t so much a soft spot as a twisted need to have everyone ride off into a sunset and live happily ever after. Yeah, and not always metaphorically speaking either.

Seriously, a setting sun in the final scene of a movie is so cliché but from all I’ve seen in this world, the more commonplace, comforting and familiar, the more it tends to resonate. In other words, I just don’t care if a 75 foot wall of water wipes out most of lower Manhattan then freezes the entire northern hemisphere, as long as those helicopters arrive to pick up Jake, Dennis and all their smiling friends at the end. As they pan out, there better be some orange in the sky reflecting off the snowy white backdrop or there is no satisfaction for me.

I would end every single movie exactly how Grease ended with the teenage sweethearts literally flying into the sunset and waving, smiling in perfection of perfectness, to everyone they are leaving behind as they head off to make their perfect way in the perfect world. Sigh.

And I always cry at the end of cheesy teen movies where the protagonist and antagonist both discover themselves, discover that they are now best friends (and make no apologies for it) so the entire school falls in love with them, even though everyone picked on them incessantly for the first hour and forty minutes (Can we say Made: The Movie anyone?).

The ‘going after what they want and coming out the other side smiling’ spirit forces the liquid salt every time. Even in Spanish, “we’re saved!” is the most recognizable human emotion to register on the face and my belly gets all warm and squishy.

Now I am at this place where I have to keep pushing for publishing of my first manuscript, to have my own ‘go for it’ moment if you will, but in less than sixty days NaNo begins and I start the process all over again.

Wait, what? I have to start writing another one before the first one has come to any sort of resolution?

Well, in short, yeah. After all, someone who doesn’t keep writing doesn’t make a very good writer do they? Huh. Funny how that works.

So now what? Now I have to come up with an entirely new cast of characters that I can channel into a whole slew of words while still keeping the old ones inside. This directly competes with what an old boss once called my ‘completion syndrome’. She was so right.

All I really want is for my first cast to be released into their happily ever after, their sunset. To go get a beer and watch a game and forget all about any of the troubling situations I forced them to experience for 200 some odd pages because they are ready for the world to see that they do in fact live happily ever after. (Seriously, it doesn’t really ruin the ending to tell you that most of them do, if you read this post you already pretty much know that’s going to happen so I make no apologies because it really isn’t a spoiler now is it?)

But life rolls like that sometimes, if I try to follow all the rules so stringently I’ll never really get anywhere. I’m the one who taught me that (or was it Ferris?); I said those words once or twice some time ago, long enough ago to feel like forever.

Of course at the time I was probably referring to why I was speeding or weaving in traffic, but why quibble over little details like that right?

In the spirit of being a writer I’m coming back to this blog again full force this fall. In fact I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about all the balls I tossed about. The ones I spontaneously threw up into the air before I learned to juggle.

Yeah, those balls. Not the ones I need to make it in the literary world. Those I already have, in droves thank you very much.

I still don’t know how to juggle so it’s pretty much inevitable that a whole bunch of them are going to have to hit the ground. Which, after months (maybe years or even decades if I’m being really honest with myself) of trying to head-butt all the ones I couldn’t hold just to keep them airborne, I have to say isn’t bothering me as much as I thought it would.

All the ones I find still in my arms, after dropping my chin and abandoning the ones barely escaping gravity, are the ones I’m keeping close. I’m not positive of all the things that will fall just yet and that doesn’t even freak me out. Probably because I haven’t had to let go of them yet but again, details.

Guess I’ll just decide later if I’m interested enough in the Spanish channel’s weekend programming to learn more than sentences containing illicit drug names. Maybe I’ll check out a few more Jake Gyllenhaal movies while I mull it over. Donnie Darko had a happy ending right?