Stay Still, Damn it

So, let’s see:

I’m technically on the second draft of my still-nameless, formless WIP (novel? short story? novella?), although it’s the third time I’m rewriting the first part. I can’t seem to nail it. The characters keep changing, like they want to be someone different everyday. It’s frusterating. But I think I’m closer. This last rewrite (again, only the first few pages) actually has pretty words that mean something, and not just the filler blocks that get you from A-Z in your first draft so you know what the story is about. Which, again, is slightly changing.

Why did Josh barge in with all this nonsense?

It’s okay though because the first draft of anything is a piece of shit. Am I right, Mr. Hemingway? And oh boy did mine stink something fierce. But you keep going, you keep writing and peeling back the layers and you find that beating heart deep below. I’m at the pulse stage – I think. I’ve got a few more layers (who doesn’t rewrite?) but I’m starting to feel more comfortable. Hallejluah. Because I was just getting to that  you suck you suck you suck phase.

And I really hate that phase.

How’s everyone else’s writing/artistic pursuit/life challenges going?

Cinderella, Bitches.

And who’s registered for the Writer’s Digest Annual Conference this summer?


Watch out fugly stepsisters – the pumpkin carriage has arrived.

I did it. Registered. Picked my workshops and even signed up for Pitch Slam, which will most likely give me a panic attack day of, but for right now, excitement’s the main emotion, not dread. I’m weird (I think the word is technically awkward) with public speaking or promoting myself or doing anything other than being silly and telling jokes. But with Pitch Slam, you can actually pitch your idea to like, a real agent/editor. Who’ll listen! And think about your work! And actually give you feed back! Which seems pretty important when you’re craving cubicle escapism to sit (or stand) all day at your home keyboard.

I just hope I don’t throw up on them.

To be honest, I’m nervous. Scared. Terrified even that 1.) I’ll get on the wrong plane which will take me to Thailand or Croatia or some far off place and I’ll be forever lost in the world or 2.) I’ll actually make it to NY but the taxi will drive through the ghetto and I’ll be like “this doesn’t look like the Roosevelt” seconds before I’m looking down from a white cloud and shaking my (angelic?) head in disappointment because I really wanted to go to this conference. But basically it’s that  3.) I’m doing this by myself. Most likely. Batman may come but if he doesn’t, it’s on me, which means navigating the hotel and workshops (seriously, I’m DUMB with direction) and doing the Pitch Slam without support. You know, like, right then and there support. The hugging and the quick drink (chugging) to suppress rising nerves. I’ll be fine. I know I will. And I’m excited. Super excited, but I just don’t want to freeze. And I’m a freezer. I’m a turn tomato-red, heart-exploding, body-freezing pansy that nearly had to run off stage during my soliloquy in Drama Class. Yeah right that prepared me for the real world. More like secured my distaste for the spotlight. But it’s okay, because everyone has fear sometimes right? And it’s your choice to:

Forget Everything And Run.


Face Everything And Rise.

I love this. I saw it on Pintrest recently and was like omg, totally my new mantra. Besides, “Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” – someone important. (I love quotes about fear. It’s like saying it over and over will make it easier to face, like using ‘Voldemort’ instead ‘he who shall not be named’ because you’re finished giving him power. And you’re not scared of his creepy, snaky face anymore.)

So I’m going to step outside of my freaky-breakdown-reaction mode and rock it. I’m going to rock this conference and the Pitch Slam, even if nothing comes out of it other than a lot of useful information and a serious minibar charge.

So watch out, NY.

Cinderella’s going to the ball, bitches.



So far the leading post that directs people to this page was when I wrote about Edward Scissorhands having a penis. And why would it not? It’s an important question of our age. But Wednesday (how is it already Saturday? What the hell, father time) I had more views than ever before, by like, a lot. Which is awesome, and which made this up and down week actually okay since there was a lot of sobbing, a lot of cursing and a lot of new things and devices to get adjusted to.

And it all started with a damn car accident.

I’m fine. Batman and I are okay, but after realizing everyone was basically uninjured and alive, I was like what the hell you giant asshole? Didn’t you see I was stopped? And now my milk and cottage cheese and creamer which JUST went up in price had to sit in this FL heat while the Sheriff took his sweet time. Morons. They’re all over the place. And then there were the insurance companies. This guy tells me one thing and that guy tells me something else and then Enterprise was all “We’ll get you into something you’re used to driving.”

“I drive a Kia Sportage.”

“I think we have a Dodge available.”


And I’m kind of stupid when it comes to operating new machines, so I had no idea how to turn on the lights and set the radio stations even though Batman explained it was really easy and all I had to do was look at the pictures. I looked at the pictures. It was like fucking Arabic. Not to mention all the tears blocking my vision because money was FALLING out of me since I made the smart decision not to have rental car coverage and am now paying everything out of pocket. I have no pockets. My pockets are patches of fabric with bad stitching. There’s no money in there. Which I told the enterprise lady who looked a little uncomfortable handing me the keys.

And then a duck flew into my car. A DUCK.

The downpour came when I realized the conference was off. The Annual Writer’s Digest Conference which, two posts ago, I’d expressed really, really wanting to go to. A dear friend–let’s call her the world’s coolest fairy Godmother– read my post and offered to pay for me. “You’re going to the ball!” she said. “I’m going to the ball!” I cried, which, of course, led to spilling tears of absolute disbelief and happiness and checking the itinerary and planning what workshops I’d be attending. It was all good.

And then that stupid GIANT man in his TINY ass clown car hit me.

And now he’s disputing fault. And the roadwork on my street isn’t finished, even though the note indicated it would be done today. And my car’s not going to be fixed for two weeks. And a duck flew into my car. So yeah, there was a lot of sobbing this week.

BUT the same fairy godmother who, let’s be honest, is TOTALLY amazing, offered to help me out even more because I was going to that conference damn it. It was happening and she was making sure of it. And I wrote my IWSG post which I got a lot of positive feedback on and one commenter saying she’d read whatever I wrote (awww… thanks Karen Walker!) and then today, I joined the rest of the modern world by getting a phone that actually functions and isn’t just a crappy paper weight that sometimes calls people, whether I’m dialing or not. It has shiny new apps and I can check my bank account and play minesweeper and know the weather and call people on their shit because the internet browser actually works now.

So yeah, it’s been an up and down week for me. And I’m still out a stress ball.

How’s it been going for you?

Monogamy Issues?

The first Wednesday of March is here (Good God) which means one of my favorite posts to write has arrived. Woop for scheduled posts and actually remembering to write them! If you’re an aspiring author, you need to check out IWSG right now so you can see that this crazy affliction called “being a writer” has a treatment. It’s called support. By other writers. Who suffer the same ailments as you. Fear. Doubt. Anxiety (for those of us who get anxiety in sharing our stuff. Seriously, pass the wine.) It’s an awesome blog hop designed by Alex Cavanaugh that helps you meet other people enduring this same, crazy lifestyle. Go  on, check out other blogs and make some friends.

This month’s doubt/fear/reason for biting my nails (squeezed the shit out of my stress ball until it broke. Second one this year) is this:

What if I should be writing something different?

I think this all the time. I’m reading, I’m listening to music, I’m off in La La land again and a new character pops in to say hello. AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THEM. Damn. It’s like being flirted with by the Arrow when you’re already dating Batman. Should you flirt back or come clean about prior engagements? Look, Oliver Queen. You’re adorable, but I’ve got a serious thing going. But when/if Batman and I end, I’ve got your number.

And on the ride home you’re tempted to call. Just to say it was nice meeting them. Because it was, right? It was awesome. But you’re already in a committed relationship and that’s that. You’re happy and life is grand. Then you think come on… they didn’t just pop in for no reason. I guess I’m having monogamy issues, which is pretty clear since I’m nearly 80,00 words into my current WIP (still going strong and nameless!) and haven’t touched the fourth book of my series since last year. LAST YEAR. And I LOVE my series. But then Josh just dropped in on me (kind of rude, like he didn’t care I was already entertaining), cursed a bit and was out of control interesting that I simply *had* to put my current project aside to listen to him. I know. I’m cheating on Reid with Josh. I should feel ashamed…. shouldn’t I?

Oh, I plan on returning to Nerwolix or Mybyncia or wherever Fallon and Reid and the others end up (I know and you don’t – Bwahaha!) but I couldn’t swat Josh away. He was too demanding – you know how those characters can be, like they think the world revolves around them and everything going on in their messed-up universe. It’s kind of arrogant, actually. Like dude, take a chill pill and I’ll get back with you when I can. But I didn’t. I obliged. I OBLIGED.

*hangs head in shame*

So is this wrong? Writing Josh and Marie when it should be Reid and Fallon? Am I cheat-writing? Or is it okay to have multiple projects going at once?


I need a new stress ball.

Or wine cellar. A wine cellar would be nice.