Insecure Writer's Support Group

Insecure Writer's Support Group

It's SOOOO freaking unreal how much  can change in a month!!!

 Last month (here) I wrote about how bummed I was. Revisions to Book 1weren't going worth a shit. Really.  Yeah, that book. The one no one was interested in. I was convinced it was crap. My writing was crap. My writing career would never happen. It was all crap. 

Sort of like: 

In fact, I became so unhappy with the whole concept, I shoved it off to the side and started working on some new projects. And, like the dumb-Ass I am at times, I also did this completely lame #Pitchmad thing on Twitter for my second book. Why not? I was already prepared for the inevitable response - 

But here's the thing - the publisher liked it. THEY LIKED IT! I was all "OMFG" and "ROFLMAO" and - well... it wasn't pretty. Happy, very happy, but not necessarily pretty. 

And then... AND THEN!!! I was offered a contract. Not just for Book 2, but the entire trilogy. THREE BOOKS, people. A THREE BOOK CONTRACT!!!

 Well knock me down with a shot of Scotch -  You can read all the details (here). 

Which of course, made me all - 

So yeah, a lot can happen in a month! 

And what am I doing now? Well, I'm well into the second book in the PHASMs trilogy, with a deadline that seemed "do-able" at the time but is starting to make me cringe. I'm also working on the developmental/content edits my editor sent back last week - I love saying that - "MY EDITOR" and I'm also outlining book three in the series. 

I've sent in my cover design questionnaire, my author questionnaire and my bio and I'm working on a list of places for book signings and other publicity for my publicist. Yes, I love saying that too - "MY PUBLICIST." I'm such a fucking geek.

My publisher (another thing I love saying) is anticipating a March/April release, with a preceding cover reveal and lots of fun to get everyone excited and chomping at the bit to read the book. 

Because... 

And do you really need a reason for a Chuck?

I'm doing my part as well. I'm running a contest the entire month of August to let YOU guys - all of YOU - pick my author photo. Hey, you might win an Amazon Gift Card too, but you have to leave a comment or "like" my Facebook page to do so. You can go (here) for the contest. After all...

And, because I don't have enough going on in my life right now, I've also joined the Masquerade Crew as one of their talented, multi-faceted and always helpful book reviewers. Yay me! 

So, am I still an Insecure Writer? Oh, HELL yeah! I probably always will be. In fact, Sunday I was all freaked out and trying to figure out how to get the damn edits done: by line? By page? By issue? Crap - I had no freakin' idea where to start. I mean, my editor was nice enough to color code everything and send a master list - sort of like a "cheat sheet" for completely trashed authors to go by - but still, where the hell do I start? 

It came dow to this: 

Fortunately, I was commiserating (without alcohol, thank you very much - she lives too far away) with my friend JD (NO! Not Jack Daniels - didn't you read the whole "without alcohol part?) and, being the author/mentor/fellow OCD personna that she is, she pried me off the ceiling once more and gave me sage advice. Which I never would have figured out myself, because I was too busy hyperventilating and squee-ing like Miss Piggy at a bacon sale. 

Tackle the big things first - the content stuff. The adds and deletes. The rest will follow. 

So simple. So direct. So - JD! Oh - did I mention her third novel is coming out at the end of the month? Yeah - she's pretty awesome. And she has a contest going as well - check it out: (here)! Between her and my cp CP, I'm actually getting some work done. Of course, my Scotch input has drastically declined. But don't worry - my Rum intake is making up for it! 


So - I'm off to the editing cave to do more damage revisions... in the mean time, help me pick my author pics! Tell your friends! Tell your neighbors! Just don't tell my ex-husbands! Yes - plural. Let's not go there, 'kay?  Go here -----------> CONTEST!!!

Mornings - FAAAAAAACK!

Yaaaa -eeeaaaaawnnnn.

Have I told you how much I dislike mornings? I would say "hate," but being a hater is on my list of things deemed socially unacceptable. Yes, I have a list. My husband updates it for me on a regular basis. I'm not the most socially adept person out there. Guess that's why I write.

So, mornings - yeah. One of the reasons I don't hate them is 'cuz I figure any day on the right side of the grass is a good day. One of the reasons I do hate them is 'cuz it takes me about 3 cups of coffee before I'm sure I won't bite the heads of small dogs and children.

I am the definition of "Not A Morning Person."

Well, except for one particular activity - which I have to say is always best in the morning.  But don't make any mistakes; this is NOT me int he morning (or anytime, for that matter):

If you've been reading along, which I KNOW you have because you love me and find me totally awesome in all my drunken drivel, then you know I was supposed to start driving in to work even earlier then the totally FAAAACKING insane hour my job requires. 

I was going to go straight to work, thereby avoiding all the traffic in the morning and go for a run. We have showers at work. We have coffee at work (if you want to call it that). We have no traffic at 0400 in the morning at work. 

Right? What the hell was I thinking? I haven't made it yet. I tried, but my ass was so firmly glued in bed all week, it was NOT happening. I'm sure it was pretty funny to watch as I shoved my work out clothes on to the closet floor and hit the snooze button. Several times. Because...

FAAAAACK. Oh, said that already. Sorry - still on that first cup of coffee.

I do actually plan on trying again this coming week. Hopefully things will fare better and I have a little less stress on the writing front. Speaking of which, here's where things stand:

First Book - received four pages (in minus 16 font) of questions, comments and revisions from an esteemed colleague that I am trying to incorporate. I'm about a third of the way through on that.

Second Book - thanks to the considerable effort and talents of CP, book 2 has been sent to the industry professional who requested it. Cross your fingers!

Short Story 1 - no takers yet. I have three more submissions pending and if they don't pick it up, I will *as promised* publish here.

Short Story 2 - yes, there is a short story 2. I just wrote it the other day. Needs some polish - and I'm sending it to CP so she can rip it to shreds (she's good at that, she's like a Komodo dragon on word steroids or something), then I'll shop it around.

I have a third story I'm dying to get to - got a few pages down so I can keep the *feels* before I get the chance to work on it. It's going to be fun, too - a real ball-busting riot, so I can't wait to go to work. I'll probably play with it later on today. After I've had more coffee. And some Scotch. 

Meanwhile, The Terrorist is growling and fanning me with his tail, which means he either needs coffee or a walk. So, that's it for now.

Oh, except for Saturday Faves! Happy day - I'm going to hook up the caffeine I.V.!!!

Careful what you wish for...

This whole week has been screwy.

Not in a "slightly off kilter, can't get my feet on the ground" way, but in a "what the fuck did I think I was doing?" way. Add auditory hallucinations and you've got screwy.

It didn't start out that way. In fact, it started out pretty normal. Like, June Cleaver normal. You know, kind of a mash-up of Brady Bunch, Gilmore Girls, It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia? Because that's how my life rolls, most of the time.

Work was normal. My minions attempted to tell me how well they were managing and I conveyed my usual faith in their abilities.

My husband was overworked, overstressed and overly horny, and I employed my always hugely supportive tactics to help him relax.

And I continued on in my normal, professional and efficient way ...

So, what's so screwy about that? Well let me tell you: I got another request for a full manuscript. At 5 o'clock in the morning. I know, what the hell am I doing up at 5 a.m.? Honey, if I have to explain my normal biorhythms to you, you ain't been readin' my blog enough!

Anyway - so, there I am, reading this request, freaking out because I only pitched it on a whim and totally didn't expect to get a request for a full (there's a serious life lesson there, folks!) and my CP is off partying her brain to slush while I've got a manuscript to polish. 

No, I don't blame CP - well, except for not taking me with her, but that's another story. 

I've got six loads of laundry to do, toilets to clean, a dog to walk, victuals to procure and oh, by the way, I'm hearing random buzzing sounds throughout the house. 

Like, bee buzzing sounds. 

Have I told you I'm allergic to bee's? As in, "free trip to the hospital" allergic? 

And before you ask, hell no, I do not have one of those cute little Epi-pens because in 52 years of living I've only been stupid enough to get stung once. Hence the awareness of the allergic reaction. Yeah - makes me look all: 

So - yeah, it's a weird fuckin' week. And I'm sitting here, trying to ignore the buzzing sound, trying to polish my manuscript before I submit it, wondering how long I can delay sending it in and, oh yeah - I'm outa scotch. 

Fuck. It's going to be a bitch of a weekend. 

Late breaking news: The Man Behind The Curtain has returned from slaying dragons, bearing bottles of scotch and rum. My attitude (and the buzzing in my head) has melted away. 

The one that was supposed to be about writing...

Today I was going to do another post about writing. You know, that thing I do when I'm supposed to be doing other stuff? The thing that (I hope) will let me retire in a few years and just DO IT?

But here's the thing - writing is also reading. Reading your own work, reading other people's work; published, not published, fiction, non-fiction, editorials and tweets. You can't write without something to write about. Maybe something you saw or heard or read yourself. Because there are no original thoughts.

Think about it - what's the last original thought you had? I'm willing to bet that, given time and resources and the willingness to really look inside at the source of that thought, you would found it came from somewhere else. Some external trigger.

Sure, you put an original spin on it; you personalized it and colored Barney orange instead of purple, but in reality, all you're changing are the details.

People have been arguing this for years, but when you look into it, it's depressingly real. A good discussion on the subject, and a list of the seven original plots, can be found at Poe's Deadly Daughters, but for the sake of simplicity, I'll list them here:

1. [wo]man vs nature
2. [wo]man vs man
3. [wo]man vs. the environment
4. [wo]man vs. machines/technology
5. [wo]man vs the supernatural
6. [wo]man vs. self
7. [wo]man vs God/religion

There is also some argument that this list should be expanded to include an additional seven, as follows, but I see these more as adaptations of the same, original seven:

1. Overcoming the monster
2. Rags to riches
3. The quest
4. Voyage and return
5. Comedy
6. Tragedy
7. Rebirth

I know what you're saying: wait a minute, I thought you weren't going to write about writing? I thought you were going to write about reading? (say that three times fast, in your head, with a double scotch in your gut. THAT will get you going!)

Ahem - back to the subject at hand: the reason this came up was because I had finished reading two books that I thought were remarkably similar to my first book, only the details were different. Then I got to thinking how those books (and mine) were similar to a play I watched. A play by that good time bard, Will S. 

So, when I'm reading (which I do voraciously), am I just absorbing another telling of an existing plot? Is it reinforcing that plot line in my head? Maybe - it's certainly a possibility, but if that were the case, why would my story be any different than any other story? Why would I read multiple books in the same genre? 

Because of the DETAILS - those sneaky little things like setting, period and character that really make the book, or anything else, worth reading. If I don't create a unique character with quirks and traits and GROWTH (you have to admit, Justine; that was well played!), then there's nothing new to read. It's my manipulation of those elements that make MY story better or different or funnier or more poignant than somebody else's story. 

So, what are you doing to turn your "recycled" plot into something fresh and new? I'd love to hear about it!

Of roller coasters, hipster boots and Whore Awards...

So, first of all, not only did I totally crap out on you and not post yesterday; I crapped out on the Insecure Writers Group as well. See, at least you're in good company!

Mea Culpa.

Yesterday was just one of those days when I couldn't find my ass with two hands and a flashlight. Yes, I know, an object that big should have landing lights, but they wouldn't have helped either. It was just one of those days - and it kept getting better.

In fact, the last thing I did yesterday (before crawling into a corner with my bottle and a pillow) was absolutely the worst and the funniest - I guess it got all the stupid out of me, because today was sooo much better. Not really, but that's another story. At least it wasn't as bad.

So, about last night: I met my Critique Partner, CP; for dinner. Nothing out of the norm there. We were talking about different things and somehow we started talking about sex scenes. See, my current WIP doesn't have one. Nary a pube in sight. HOWEVER, my last book has what I would deem an awesome, totally 'wait for the significant other to go to bed or read it in the bathroom' sex scene. So she demanded insisted asked I send it to her as soon as I got home. And I did.

I cut and pasted it right into an email and sent it straight to her. At her work account. With the Government. Doing highfalutin, extra secret spy stuff. With a sex scene in her inbox. Bwah ha ha!

She did NOT finding it amusing. Well, she sort of did. I re-sent it right away to her home account. Thank god there are no anatomically correct body parts listed in the entire scene. Except 'breast.' And 'butt.' And to think, I almost put "porn" as the subject line. THAT would have been freakin' hilarious!

Ahem. CP did not find that part amusing. At All. She did, however, greatly enjoy the scene itself, which she took a helluva long time reading. In the bathroom. While her husband slept. And then emailed me this picture:

So, I'm guessing she liked what she read. But I digress. Not really, but I like saying that: "I (pause for affect) digress!"

Where was I? Oh, yeah: what I'm saying is, even if I'd had the time (which I didn't, unless I skipped that first double-Scotch. Like that's ever going to happen) I didn't have any ideas for the blog post due yesterday. 

And today, as a comment left on yesterday's completely unsatisfactory "hey, I'm screwing you out of your Wednesday reading material" post, Kelly at dysfunctionallyfun gives me the Whore Award (see it, in the upper right corner? Awesome, right?) and the following visual prompt:

Now, what the hell am I supposed to write using that? I could go so many directions with this, none of them rated "G"! I'm gonna have to take a couple days to wrap my brain around this one (get it: corkscrew, round-wrapping rollee coastee picture and brain?). So, no. You still aren't getting THAT post. Check back Saturday. I should either be drunk enough Friday night or hungover enough Saturday morning to make something of it. Evil bitch from the depths of hell. 

Crap - did I write that out loud?

Now, on to the award, which is so totally awesome, even though I could never get my made-for-supporting-bridges-and-tunnels legs into them. 

Dum Dum DUMMMMM: The Whore It Up Award

Yes, there are rules. Even whores have scruples or guidelines or something. Don't worry, I checked with the muse (that slatternly slut) and she says they're cool:

Rules:

1. Upon receiving this award, you will receive a prompt. You are to write about said prompt. (Whenever you feel like it)
2. Link back to who gave you this award and include the picture of the award in your post.
3. Pass it to just five bloggers. (You can tag back if you want to read what your presenter has to say about the topic you come up with.)
4. Come up with a prompt for the five bloggers you chose.
5. When you do finally get around to writing the prompt, let the blogger who presented you this award know. So they can read it.

Now, for my victims awardees:
1. My CP, CP at n00bishdelight - cuz she's my bud and she's into Zombies and shit!
2. Stacey at maplesyrupland - because she's smart, funny and likes has plays with balls
3. Sporkchop at roflinitiative - I thought it would be hilarious to see a guy in these boots - maybe with something else on but not necessarily, and he posts some weird shit I really like.
4. Valerie at flyingplatypi - hey, anyone that licks anything like she does DESERVES these boots! Git yer mind out of the gutter and read her blog, damn you!
5. Summer at fizzygrrl - cuz since I started following her on Twitter, my life hasn't been the same. In a good way. Unless you have an issue with snorting coffee out your nose.

And here's your prompt: You just swallowed the most potent aphrodisiac known to womankind (no, it was not an American Express Centurion card). It lasts 72 hours MINIMUM. You are trapped in a room at the North Pole, with one other person. There is no hope of rescue, no place to hide. It's one big room. What happens?

Here's your companion:

Could be worse. Could be Taylor Swift.

Muah ha ha!

Early post because ... errr, ummmm... I'm a bitch.

Okay - because I won't be anywhere near a computer this coming weekend, I'm posting today and Thursday instead of my usual Wednesday and Saturday.

So, the events of the day have once more reminded me that I am a bitch. Really. Not exaggerating here. I really am. People make the mistake all of the time of thinking I'm a nice person. I'm sorry - I'm really not.

I like to think I have it in me to be all: 

But in reality, I'm more like:

I don't do it on purpose. It just sort of works out that way. I'm too honest. Too realistic. Definitely too sarcastic. The reminder came due to events which I shall not bore you with. Let's just say that I drove for four hours (round trip) just to screw myself out of what could have been an okay time. Yup. I'm even a bitch to myself. 

See, I can't help it. It's like a chronic affliction. Like, dandruff or something. There's shit I could probably do to keep it under control - but it only covers up the symptoms. And you thought the name of this blog was just some catchy phrase? Hell no! My boss will tell you that. My husband, child, mother, sister and best friend will tell you that. 

Because when you remove the filter, you come across as bitchy whether you want to or not. So don't ask me my opinion if you don't really want it. Don't ask me to help/do/plan something if you aren't prepared for me to say "no" or tell you it's stupid. Okay, I may not tell you it's stupid right away - but if you keep bugging me about it and want to know why I said no, I'm gonna tell you it's effing stupid! 

STOOOPID!

So don't ask!

Ah. Now that we have that cleared up - please pass the scotch!

Revising and Editing...

Okay. I HATE editing. Really. It makes me feel like this:

 

 

 

Don't get me wrong; I do edit. I just don't LIKE doing it. When I write, it's verbal vomit. It all comes out in a rush (or several periods of rushing) and I just go with it. I don't worry about grammar or punctuation or spelling. I let the story and the character and everything else flow out; all the emotion and the world building and the vision exiting my finger tips and magically appearing in black and white on the screen in front of me.

I run spell check. I even run the grammar check tool. But at some point, I have to break out the red pen and read the damn thing. And I still don't mind that part. I do like reading what I wrote. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cringe. Sometimes I even wipe tears from my eyes. It's the pen, and the marks on the paper and the notes asking myself why I wrote something or marking where I need to add more. It's the time that I have to put into the process that I resent. Time taking me away from the creative element, from crafting new stories and tales. That's the part I really hate about editing and revising.

I want it perfect the first time, every time. Like this:

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

But more often it's like this:

 

 

So what's a writer to do? Well, there aren't that many options. Oh, sure, if I had the bucks, I could hire an editor. But I don't. I could subject my Critique Partners to my first drafts. But that's a good way to lose CP's quickly. I could write slower or more carefully or with less Scotch. Naw. We all know THAT'S not going to happen!

So, I'm stuck. And I'm revising. And editing. And learning to appreciate it as part of the overall process. To see it as "IMPROVING" instead of tedious, time-consuming, brain-draining necessity.

And hopefully, in the end, I'll end up here:

 

 

 

But until then, I hate it. Really. And I put it off as long as I can. And even when I do it, I miss stuff. Even when I revise, I feel like it could be better. Or I shouldn't have cut/changed/added what I cut/changed/added. Or like I'm never going to get it done. Get it good enough. Get it out "there." After all - I'm one of them, one of you, one of us. I am, truly, an insecure writer.

 

Guess I'm in the write place.

 

Whiskey... (For Steve - can we do Norfolk again?)

I mean, really? If you've been following me for ANY amount of time, are you surprised at today's topic?

You know I love my scotch. It is the second pillar of my existence (after coffee). It makes me so much nicer than I am in real life. It soothes and calms, de-jangles nerves and whispers sweet nothings that entice me to speak sweetly to my husband, pet the dog, smile at the neighbor and survive another day at  work.

I'll drink any kind of whiskey, too. Bourbon (American or Kentucky whiskey), Irish, Canadian. It's all good. But my sweet spot, my heart and soul - ah, now you are talking SCOTCH.

There are over 4 million "hits" on Google for "quotes about scotch." I've included a few of my favorites below. But here's why I love the stuff: it melts over my tongue like liquid gold, gently warming and infusing me with it's mellow, round, fullness. It instills a sense of well-being and tranquility with it's soft smokey character and round, peaty essence. It never makes me sick, gives me a headache or has me asking where I left the car, the purse, the ... well, never mind.

It's just good!

My preference is single malt; Oban or Glenlivet. In fact, the Glenlivet 15 (French Oak aged) is my hands-down favorite. I've had top shelf, bottom shelf and everything in between, but I have yet to find anything that beats the half-empty bottle of Haig & Pinch I inherited from my Grandfather.

It had to be at least thirty years old when I got it, the paper label peeling, the wire cage around the glass tarnished. I don't remember ever seeing him pour from it, but slowly, ever so slowly the liquid was consumed. Only after he had died did I learn he sipped once a year, on some unknown anniversary or otherwise special event and he never, never shared. It was the first, the finest and the most memorable Scotch I ever drank. And I've yet to find another that compares.

When it became my very own, my darling, my PRECIOUS - oh, how I coveted and safeguarded! I would hide it away in the deep dark corner of the closet, not letting any fellow Scotch drinkers know of it's existence. It was mine, MINE! And I would walk to the gates of Mordor to keep it safe...

Wait - that's another story.

So, Scotch. Yeah. I'm having a nice tall one now. No one ever said which two fingers to use when pouring a dram, right? And it's so simple; no mixing, stirring, blending or shaking.

A glass. A bottle. And me.

Happy Friday to all and as my good friends in Scotland would say Sláinte!

“She poured us some more Scotch. It didn't seem to affect her any more than water affects Boulder Dam.”
- Raymond Chandler

"There were years when I was a beer and tequila guy, then I got real fat. And then I found that you could actually go on a diet and drink scotch. Then I got hooked on scotch, and if you get hooked on scotch, then everything else just tastes wrong."

- Ron White

"Whenever someone asks me if I want water with my Scotch, I say I'm thirsty, not dirty."

-Joe E. Lewis

"Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good whiskey is barely enough." 

Mark Twain.

Surprising success and an early "S" post

Okay, I'm not really known for my humility. Not that I'm egocentric or vain, but I'm definitely confident and assertive. With that said, I must admit to being pleasantly surprised at being nominated by TWO fellow bloggers and writers for the Liebster Blog Award! Yay! I'm especially thrilled because I've only been at this for a little over a month.


I have been nominated by both MadelineAnn of "Reincarnated as a Writer" and Bridgina Molloy of "The Wicked Writer" - many thanks to both of you!



The Liebster Award is passed around from one blog to another, with the following rules:

• I have to give 11 random facts about me
• I have to answer the 11 questions the presenter of the award has asked
• I have to nominate 11 new bloggers to receive the award, they must have fewer than 200 followers
• I have to ask my nominees 11 new questions of my own

So, 11 facts about me:

1. I believe coffee, scotch, chocolate and popcorn constitute a well rounded diet.
2. I knew how to fly a small plane before I knew how to drive.
3. Tall, dark and built with a scottish accent will get me to do almost anything. 
4. Although a native Californian, people think I'm from Canada All. The. Time. Something with my "o's" being too round. 
5. I've been married more times than I'd like to admit. 
6. I ran my first half marathon at the age of - OLD.
7. I'm a sucker for anything small and furry with big eyes - including the odd child.
8. I was the first female Quality Manager of a major shipyard - ANYWHERE
9. I really don't have a filter between my brain and my mouth - ask my husband, mother, child and boss.
10. I returned to writing fiction after a 20+ year absence and am finding reasonable success. 
11. I've been accused of being fearless, but I do have a few fears: being on a precipice, the dark and cockroaches. Especially cockroaches. And Janet Reid.

MadelineAnn's questions:

1. How much do you like your steak cooked? Uh, dead?
2. Tea, coffee or something else? Oh, please - you know the answer to this: Coffee, with scotch. Often.
3. How much was your first pay -packet for, and what was the job? Gawd! Okay, I think around $30 - delivering pizza. I got fired immediately. It's hard to deliver hot pizza when you don't know your way around town. 
4. Favourite film, and why? Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure - I swear, all they did was film me and my friends while we were in High School - and Hello? Keanu Reeves much?
5. How long does it take you to read an average length novel? This is almost embarrassing - around 2 days. 
6. Was your school co-educational or single sex, and do you think that was the better option? Oh, definitely co-ed. We all had sex more than a single time - wait - did I misinterpret?
7. Which emotion do you feel the most easily/most often? Do you enjoy it? Wow - tough one...I'm pretty happy and upbeat, though come across as cynical. I'll go with happy. 
8. Has anything out-of-the-ordinary wonderful ever happened to you? Can you tell us about it? More than I can say - but most people wouldn't believe me if I told them. And I'd have to kill you, what with working for the government and all.
9. Left or right handed? I'm so right-handed, I can't even brush my hair with my left. 
10. What's your favourite kind of holiday? Anything with a beach, warm weather, water and Cabana Boys bearing endless adult beverages. Or is that an endless bearing of Adult Cabana Boys?
11. Do you have a pet, what is it, or if not, why not? Hmm, I'm guessing you mean of the four-legged kind? Yes - Charlie. My Terra-shit. Read my post "Meet Charlie - a Terrorist". He's also the fuzz face mascot on this site. But I do love me some two legged pet as well!

Bridgina's Questions:

1. If there was any one point in history you would like to visit, where and what would it be? Tell us why in a couple of sentences. My thirties - most historical times really suck for women. I like my own "when" and can't imagine me surviving very long in a previous time (that whole "no filter" thing would have been a real problem in, say, the inquisition).
2. Tell us the name of someone that has inspired you in your life or craft, living or dead and in a couple of sentences explain why? Oh, wow - my husband. Really - not being "sweet" - it's not in my nature. He always said I should write a book, always loved my writing and encourages me. I couldn't do it without him. In fact, I couldn't do much of anything without him. He's my glue.
3. What is your most favourite item of clothing? Why (in a couple of sentences)? Yoga pants. They're comfortable. They look reasonably good. They go everywhere. They don't show sweat/coffee/chocolate or scotch stains. They hold the jiggly parts in.
4. Where is your favourite place to write (sofa, bed, bath, desk, library, cafe...etc.,)? My office at home - with music blaring, window open and Charlie at my feet.
5. Are you a morning person or a night person? I am soooo NOT a morning person! But, my job requires me to be up at 0330 (GAWD, right?) - so for this part of my life I guess I'm neither!
6. Has your life turned out the way you had imagined it would as a child? Um, I don't think I really thought about it then.
7. How do you stay motivated when writing your blog/novel/short story/article/poetry etc.? Music, laughter and scotch.
8. Are you a planner or a seat of the pants(er)? Definitely a pantster.
9. What was the first music record/tape/cd you bought? Rod Stewart - I forget the album.
10. What is your favourite Genre to write and read? Why (in a couple of Sentences)?  I don't really have a favorite...I guess I lean more towards fiction with some romantic element, though not definitively romance.
11. What is your pet Peeve? Stupid people. We all have brains, but few of us use them.

Now, for my nominees: Um - this is hard!

1. Susan Adrian at Susan Adrian - she's just too damned funny, especially on Twitter!
2. Susan Scott of Garden of Eden - amazing new friend who has an absolutely ethereal way with words.
3. L.G. Keitner of Warped Nerdversity - Okay, beside the cool blog name, she has trippy stuff to play with on her blog!
4. Sporkchop at ROFL Initiative - He (?) just makes me roll on the floor (and LMFAO)!
5. Burkester at Seethethingaboutthatis - Really - you have to ask? She has bright, shiny THINGS and I, oh - grab. Missed, grab again - where was I?
6. Kristina Pinto at Mother Running Rampant - Okay - I've been known to run. I've been known to cuss. I've been known to do many things Kristina does, just not as well as her. I have a feeling she may not qualify, as I'm sure she has more than 200 followers, but still...
7. My friend and CP, CP! at n00bishdelight - she's cool. I like that.
8. Rhondi at Ya Gotta Laugh About It - I swear, she must be my brotha from anotha motha! Except we're both girls. Still, you get the point.
9. Lisa Zadok at Whatthefeminist - if I have to explain, you clearly have never met me or read my blog.
10. Networked Twins at This May Cost Me an Appliance - okay, the name intrigued me, the snark made me a fan.
11. Ummm - honestly, can't find another one. See, I have this problem - I think most people are too pompous and full of shit to write a truly amusing blog. I struggled to find these 10 - and I'm sure there are 10 more out there, let alone 1. But, I almost puked at the sweet, kind, flower and butterfly laden sites I found, so - there ya go.

Now, for MY Questions (Bwa-ha-ha!)

1. How old would you be if you could pick any age? Why?
2. When you close your eyes, do you look like the person you see in the mirror or someone else? Who?
3. Describe yourself with four words that begin with the same letter. Why did you pick that letter?
4. What book has had the greatest impact on you/your life and why?
5. What makes you laugh-out-loud-snort-coffee-out-your-nose?
6. What makes you squirm with embarrassment?
7. (a) Girls: Christian Bale or Hugh Jackman and why? (b) Boys: Halle Berry or Jessica Alba and why?
8. All - Bad boy/girl with a heart of gold or Good boy/girl with a wicked streak?
9. Tattoos? What and where? 
10. Best, last drunk?
11. If it were up to you, the Wicked Smaht award would go to? 

Gee, that was fun! Next Sunday I'll answer my own questions - Batter up!

Minding the Muse...

Ah, Monday. Day of new beginnings, of a return to the relative peace, rhythm and sanity of work. A day when I get up early to go to the office, while my muse sleeps off another wild weekend.

Really - what is her problem? She's been particularly difficult to live with lately. Staying out all hours of the night. Drinking whiskey like there's no tomorrow. Hitting on all the cute guys and leaving her lipstick smeared on their shirt collars. I'm beginning to think she's a regular tart.

Uh, wait. She is.

My muse is a perpetually intoxicated, scantily clad, overly flirtatious and violently charming bit of wit and humor who scarcely stays in place long enough to be of real help to me. She is much that I used to be (in my younger days) and all that I wish I still were.

She doesn't look very muse-like, either. More like a Valkyrie with a pen instead of a sword. Cuz really, words can do more damage then long, sharp, pointy things.

Yeah - my muse is a bad-ass.

She's short (like me), has dark hair (like me) and green eyes (also like me).  She's wicked smart, has a truly evil and childlike sense of humor (think eight year old boy jokes) and refuses to eat anything green or hairy.  She has a penchant for black leather, silver piercings and too many tattoos. She likes bad boys, good scotch and warm beds. Other than that, we're nothing alike.

Okay, we both love watching The Voice. Because really, who wouldn't want to be caught between Blake and Adam? But that's as far as our similarities go. Honestly.

Her head never pounds with the thread of regret from an evening too well enjoyed. Her joints never argue with her, regardless of weather or position, no matter the ridiculous pose she tries to hold. She never picks her bra off the lamp shade or her panties off the floor. She never even worries about clean underwear. If she doesn't have any, she goes without.

Yeah - commando style. No wonder the guys love her. Even my husband loves her, because he knows when she's around, I'll loosen up, relax, unwind and have some fun. With him. She does that to me. She kicks me in the head with a story idea so stunning and original, I fly up the stairs and let it rain from my fingers to the keyboard.

When I finally get it committed to paper, I am still so wound up I turn to him for the kind of release only he can grant. The easing of ache and tense muscle and highly awakened, rapidly firing neurons only he can soothe.

Oh, come on - your mind is in the gutter again. Back rub, people, back rub! Geesh - what, you think I'm like my muse? Oh, wait. I am :-)  And now I've enthralled Ya'll~ Hooyah!

"C" is for Creativity...

Today's post is a "two-fer"; as part of the A to Z blog challenge, it begins with the letter "C." As part of the Insecure Writer's Group, it addresses a common concern/fear amongst us mere mortals: creativity and the lack there of.

If you've been following, you know that Monday I blogged about abundance - the abundance of ideas flowing from my head. And you also read about my fear that I would lose some of those thoughts, thus a need to catch the ideas in some way, shape or form. You may also remember my "BOLA" post from March 20th ... a humorous and honest post about my need to write it down NOW.

Creativity is a funny thing - dancing in and out of life when we least expect it, most need it and can't find it. We've all had days where we've stared at a blank sheet of paper or a stark, white screen on the computer and the little pointer blinks. And blinks. And blinks. And nothing comes to us. And we've had those days were our fingers can't possibly keep up with the flow of words trying to make their way from our brains to whatever mechanism we use for capture. The problem is, there's no way to predict or identify what sort of day we'll have.

It's not like the weather (which, by the way, I wouldn't mind having a job where I got paid for a 60% accuracy rate) - we can't forecast "good" or "bad" writing days. They just happen, and we have to cope with them.

I've had stories hit me like a lightening strike while walking the dog. My first novel came to me over Christmas and was complete (first draft, anyways) in a little over two weeks. And I've had ideas for stories that I don't even seem able to begin, even though I captured the premise on a sticky-note and stare at it daily. Then there are the days where you know where the story needs to go, but the only thing you manage to write is a string of periods. Not even ellipses! Just period, after period, after period.

That's where I'm at with my latest WIP. I'm probably two or three chapters from finishing, and I can't seem to get it done. I sit at the computer and review the preceding chapter or two. I play at editing the front end. I tweet, facebook, blog and surf. And it's still waiting for me. The main characters hang suspended, frozen in time in awkward positions, waiting for me to tell them what happens next. And I tweet. Surf. Facebook.

I shouldn't be surprised - the WIP began with me typing "what if" over and over on a clean sheet of electronic paper. Apparently, creativity has chosen this moment to go on her own vacation, leaving me high and dry. All I can do is keep trying. Keep sitting in front of the computer each evening, drinking Glenlivet and hoping she'll come back to me, or the Scotch will kick in. Of course, with Glen keeping me company, I'm not sure how much I miss that muse!