Be Careful What You Wish For

So, with a month from the end of this year, I have been thinking about my 2012 Goals. Take a look at them here.   Here's where we stand...

1. Book Deal: not yet (but read on)
2. New car: very likely (read on, I told you...)
3. Skyfall: OH. YES. (wiping drool off chin)
4. Exercise: not every day, but most days, and I've lost weight this year.
5. Spine: Stronger, maybe mild scoliosis (figuratively, new readers)
6. Dates: we've been pretty good, actually, in the latter half of this year.  Nights out are happening!
7. No apologies:  kinda like the spine--that is a work in progress.  Apologizing is part of me, but I am starting to accept who I am, and forcing others to when I am right.
8. Writing: well, that one has been a weird one.  I was writing every day for 2+ hours in the spring.  Got shot to shit during the summer (move, summer class, grandmother's funeral).  Fall started okay, but the Boy is in afternoon kindergarten, which is making it more challenging to actually get my writing time in.  Plus, the current home's desk set up is less than inviting.  I may start doing more on the laptop (shudder).

So, that is where I am.  Pretty good.  Now... about that book deal.  I finished Book 1: "The General's Heir", and passed it along to peer readers.  Got some great feedback... and decided that I had to rewrite the whole thing.  I needed to focus on my heroine.  So, rewrote the book into first person.  She's telling her story.  I expanded scenes, trimmed others, and finally told the story of what happened in Tejhaus before and after the rebellion, and how she came to decide to go to Stone Country.  The book is so much stronger.

I finished the rewrites at the end of August, and then started editing.  I finished the week of Thanksgiving, and promptly emailed David Hazard for a recommendation for a professional editor: I am funny with hyphens and ellipses...as my regular readers (ha!) know.  We set up a meeting to discuss finally working together (since I have money coming from my grandmother).

And then Wednesday struck.  I had a car accident.  My lovely little Honda Civic has been a loyal member of my family, but she's on life support, and her age ain't making it look good.  A 1997 coupe with 170K miles... if they don't declare it totaled, it will be a miracle.  I love that car.  It was the first car I picked out and bought.  She was overpriced, and used.  But I paid her off slowly (with the Husband paying as well after we got married), and she's been faithful and dependable.

So, yesterday, instead of focusing on the fact that my body had had a shock, and I needed to just read, I spent most of the day beating myself up for the accident.  Sure, I wanted a new car, but not til the money was there.  She was supposed to outlast the Saturn.  I went from quiet mourning to anger and back.

And then, late last night, I remembered my 2012 Goals.  I really had met some of them.  Maybe...just maybe, the stars are aligned, and I will meet the first goal.  On Monday, I plunge into revising my query letter and creating my spreadsheet for literary agents to hit.  When the editing is done, I am unstoppable.

I will it to be so.

Writing and Boob Jobs

Husband has been on the laptop, surfing, I guess.  I haven't been paying attention.  He notices me busily typing on my birthday present, a Kindle with keyboard.

Husband:  You like your birthday present?
Me:  I love it!
Husband:  So, you browsing Amazon or something?  Don't spend too much, ha ha!
Me:  No, I am working on my book.
Husband:  (finally looking up from the laptop, where he's been looking at  motorcycle pictures on Faceborg .  Don't know why--he'll be able to get a motorcycle the day after he buries me.) Wait.  You uploaded your book onto the Kindle?
Me:  Yeah!  I love reading it there!  It is so cool--
Husband:  You are just reading it?
Me:  Well, not really.  I am editing it.
Husband:  You are still editing it?
Me:  This is more about sentence structure, and verb agreement--
Husband:  Verb agreement?
Me:  Well, two revisions ago, I played around with writing it in present tense, so I missed stuff--
Husband:  In the last round of edits.
Me:  No!  In the last revision!
Husband:  What is the difference between editing and revising?
Me:  Hmmmm.  (thinking hard about how to answer this) Revising is making changes to the body of the literature.  Editing is making corrections.
Husband:  Okaayyy.
Me:  Oh!  See, revising is like getting a boob job, and editing is more like just wearing a better bra.
Husband:  ...I'm sorry, what?
Me:  Okay, bad example.  Revising my book involves me changing characters, or expanding scenes, or fleshing out backgrounds.
Husband:  Uh-huh.
Me:  And editing is fixing sentence structure.  Or something.
Husband:  So...
Me:  I started a revision back in January that didn't work out-- the whole present tense thing.  But I canned that and just went with making the story told from Elena's point of view, in first person.
Husband:  And...
Me:  I finished that in August, and now I am doing the last round of edits, so I can send it out again.  I am hoping by November?
Husband:  Okay.
Me:  So, yeah.  I am editing.
Husband:  ...Do you want a boob job?

Thank you for the Kindle.

Stress

I am stressed.  I need to learn to let things go.  Seriously.  I am cranky, and unable to sleep, and don't enjoy my meals.  I enjoy my wine, but that could also be the company.  I am daydreaming constantly, and reading to escape.

Supposedly, writing a list of stress factors can help bring them to manageable proportions.  Here is my list of things that are stressing me out.  I hope that writing them down will set them loose into the internet, where they can spawn and create a worm that will infect the very lifeblood of Monsanto.

1. Sleep-- I am not sleeping well, and taking lots of pills to try to make sure I am sleeping.  I am not sure the pills are getting me good sleep, but they do make me sleep....if I've taken enough of them.
2. Medical-- I had an ER visit recently.  I had some chest pains-- probably not heart related.  I have a stress test soon, and my regular GP put me on anti-heartburn medication.  In addition, I need to get to the eye doctor (18 months since last visit).  The Husband probably needs some dental work done.  My son's belly is still distended, and it should have healed by now.  And we keep having minor medical expenses to the tune of $200-$500-- they add up.
3. Move-- I am moving in about 60 days.  Have not packed a single damn box.  Why?  Well, I didn't want to live with a bunch of boxes, thinking a normal looking household would be a better choice for living.  Yeah, it looks pretty, but it also stresses me out...all those empty boxes, just waiting to be filled.  "Fill me!"  On top of that, the house we are in is about to be on the market for rent... which means I have to have the house nice for that.
4. Money-- I have no right to be stressed about it, I guess.  There are people in this country who are un- and under-employed.  People are buried in underwater mortgages, credit card debt, student loans, and no savings.  We have no debt, are downsizing, and have a decent sum in savings.  But we used to have LOTS more in savings.  We have two cars which are 15 years old, and groceries are more expensive than ever.  A lot of my clothes are old (ie, don't fit, have little or big holes, etc) and then there is the medical stuff.  So, I am stressed about it.
5. IRS-- We just got a letter from the IRS, claiming that we owe like $8K in unpaid taxes and penalties.  We were sensible in 2010 and finally rolled all our various retirement accounts into a single account.  One of the rollovers was reported as taxable income to the IRS... so it looks like we got a huge sum of money.  And we didn't.  I understand it is all a matter of filling out the forms and such, but FUCK... You get a letter from the IRS demanding more than I have earned in any year since my son was born, and tell me that your heart isn't leaping out of your chest.
6. Book-- good god, I want to finish my book.  If I can edit 15 pages or so a week, I will finish by the time school ends.  But after that, I will get NO regular writing time until September.  Unless I can manage to begin writing at night again.  I just don't know how, especially with a move looming, and a summer camp planned in July.  I really want to finish-- I know it can be published, and will be good.  
7. Volunteer-- I am still active in the community, but it is hard work, and I am not enthusiastic about it right now.  I really should make this my last time... but then what am I doing for the community?  And what else do I have to show for myself in this time.  Everyone says motherhood is noble/ necessary/ etc.  But no one PAYS you for it, and potential employers look down their noses at it.  And I have to do something until the Boy is in school full time... unless my book sells.
8. App-- The phone app is fun to work on.  But it is work.  And it is unpaid work for now, and maybe forever, unless we can increase sales.  So, all that writing and entering is free.  And after the move, I will no longer be able to just walk two houses down to work with my partner.  I will have to drive across town.  
9. Work-- My theatre class is not stressing me exactly, but there is a lot of work to do that requires me to focus and be creative... and I can neither well until I can let stuff go. 
10. Politics-- The War on Women, the attack on the environment, the economy... I actually have to make myself STOP reading the news sometimes, or logging on to Faceborg.  I try to have a wide variety of friends- they range from libertarians to socialists, radical feminist lesbians to religious conservatives.  It used to be nice, because I would be exposed to a lot of different ideas and perspectives.  Food for thought, ya know?  Now... I just get scared.  The hate and anger and fear have reached terrifying levels.  Where are all the moderates?  Running scared, just like me.

So, there they are.  All my stress factors.  Not a terrible list, I guess.  I mean, I didn't actually HAVE  heart attack, did I?  I don't have to get a transvaginal probe, and the IRS issue will be resolved without having to write a check for $8K.

But I am still stressed.

A Writer's Contract

I just spent four days at a writing workshop.  I have lauded David Hazard before, but I am gonna do it again.  It was amazing, and I learned so much, and this is the SECOND time I took it!  If you write, or think you might have a story to tell, go look him up.

There is a lot to talk about, but I am only going to address the Writer's Contract right now.

If I am going to acquire Space to Write...
WHERE:  at the desk
WHAT needs to be kept out of that space:  the email, the phone, the bills, non-writing work
WHO are the potential intrusions:  the family, the dog, work and volunteer associates  (I can avoid them all by just not answering the phone!)
WHEN will I write?:

• Primary time- Monday-Fridays, while the Boy is at school (8:45-11:15), as soon as I walk the dog.
• Secondary time- After Dean goes to bed.  If I CANNOT do the primary for whatever reason (meetings, doctor's appointments, etc.), I WILL use this time, even if it only for an hour or so.
• How I will make this happen:  I will get up at 5AM (when the Husband leaves) to do the other stuff:  the email, blogging, work and volunteer stuff, even the bills.  I will do this upstairs on the laptop, and put all the applicable materials in one binder with pockets, along with my thumb drive, so it is all contained and cannot take over.  So, I will have that stuff done before the Boy even wakes up, wanting to have his Mummy Cuddle Time.

WHAT are my objectives for my Writing Time?:

• Sunday evenings/Monday mornings, I will set the objectives for the week.  One of my goals for today, for example, is to create a task list based on my to-be-completed storyboard, with the end of May being my deadline.
• Minimum-- is there research I can do?  Writing prompts I can create or find?  Storyboard tweaking?
• Medium-- Am I working on incidents and scenes?  Am I expanding or focusing on characters?
• Maximum-- Did I meet all the goals and then some?  Am I moving forward?

It doesn't look much like a contract, but it has solidified some things for me. I felt a lot of pressure, because I had no time allotted for the non-writing stuff, but I still needed to do it!  It would make it tough for me to get into my zone...And the evening is becoming less of a productive time for me.  Getting old, I guess!


Now, how is this morning thing working out?  Ha!  I am bleary eyed, and every third word contains a typo.  My sense of humor is still in bed, apparently.  However, I have just checked off the second item from my early morning Task List. Tomorrow's task list will include coffee...

Writing Time

Did you ever see The Shining?  I love this scene.  Yeah, the film isn't as good as the book.  And there are gems about writing in the book-- LOTS of gems... But watch the scene.

As a woman, I used to hate the scene.  I mean, who the hell would want to be married to someone who talks to you like that?  Oh wait!  Wendy can't get away!  She is stuck in a snowbound hotel with fucking Jack as an asshole husband...  Except, he is kind of an asshole even in their first scene together, in the car.  Jump out, Wendy, jump out!  Rolling down a mountain has to be better than being married to him.

Feminist interlude over.  Yay!

Ahem.  As a writer, I have come to understand, and even appreciate the scene.  Watch it again...  Go on.  I will wait.

I get it.  Every time I am in the zone, and something interrupts, I think of it.  I want to throw my phone across the room for daring to ring.  I would rip the brains out of the telemarketers who start calling at 9:30AM, if they had any...and if they were within range.  I yell at the dog for barking.  I loathe the clock for going so fast.  I get to write 9-11:10 every weekday.  I get an extra hour on Fridays.  My writing time is precious.

So, yeah, I get cranky when I have to do non-writing things during my writing time.  Bills, doctor's visits, volunteer meetings, answering stupid emails from jackasses...

So.  Here is my solution.  I am going to ignore the phone...both of them.  I will not turn them off, in case the school calls-- I am not an unnatural mother.  I will NOT do email, or Facebook, or anything non-book related during my writing time.  I do have the occasional meetings or appointments, and will suffer through them.

Oh, and I love this clock.

The beginning of a beautiful relationship

     Let's talk, 2012.  See, I made an arrangement with 2011.  I told 2011 what I wanted, and I thought 2011 and I would have a nice time together.  I didn't realize that my expectations, while communicated clearly, were not clear expectations.  It was a "Hey, let's have a nice date" versus "Hey, I want a fancy dinner with good wine, and then a movie with Daniel Craig or Hugh Jackman."
      I realize that this is a failure on my part.  I didn't specify what it was that I actually wanted.  This should not be a surprise to me... what with the whole "Not Doing It" being the name of the blog.  2011 could not read my mind.  How could 2011 know what I wanted if I wasn't even able to communicate that to myself?  And yet... did I not mock 2011 on Facebook? I did, I am sorry to say.  No one deserves that, especially when it is my fault.
     So, 2012, I am going to try to communicate my clear expectations.  I want you to know what will make me happy.  Some of the items on my list may strike you as unrealistic, or silly, but if you know, at least you might have a better idea of the kind of thing that might make me happy.

What I Want Out Of 2012

1. A book deal.  It doesn't have to be Stephanie Meyers size... but I would love at least to be able to buy a new car, which leads me to...
2. A new car.  Both of the cars in my household are almost three times as old as my son.  And he's about to start kindergarten.
3. To see the new James Bond film in the movie theater.
4. To make exercise part of almost every day-- strength training, walking, hitting balls at the driving range... whatever it takes.  Finishing 2011 with physical therapy kinda blew.
5. A spine.  I rarely speak up for myself, and when I do, I inevitably cave.  
6. A date, once a month, when I go out, looking lovely, wearing a pair of killer heels, and forget that I am the mother of a 5 year old.  Don't care if it is with my girlfriends, or a big group of people, or just me and a lucky guy.
7. To stop apologizing for who I am.  It is one thing to apologize for a specific action, something I said or did.  It is  a whole other thing to apologize for not being the way that someone else wants me to be, or for not thinking what someone else wants me to think.  I am valid, and so is my point of view.
8. To write five days a week.

     So, 2012.  How does that sound?  I hope I have given you a much better idea of my expectations than I did 2011.  I suspect 2011 might have actually been less of a disappointment if I had been as clear with him as I am being with you.  Let's work on it, shall we?

Hugs and kisses,

Zombie Grrrl  

2011: A Year in Review

..." I see this as a place to journal, a place to jump up and down, a place to vomit, a place to celebrate, a place to collaborate, and maybe, a place to make my decisions final."

Here I am, almost a year later.  The quote above is from my very first blog post.  I would say, based on that quote, that I was very successful...except that the blog was supposed to be about my three goals for 2011...

Plan for 2011

1. Figure out what you are NOT going to do, make it happen, and move on.

2. Walk three times a week.

3. Schedule two recharge breaks a month.

Anyway.  Plan 1... I figured out a lot of things... Meaning, I quit a number of things.  Arts council...  gone!  Acting... retired, mostly.  Art model... not pursuing it.  Teaching... winding down.  Volunteer... still going, but will be finished in June.  Writing?

That is what I decided I AM going to do.  Write.  I love it, and I am good at it.  I spent the last of my mad money to attend a hardcore writing workshop (4 days, all day).  I wrote and submitted a play for a playwrighting competition.  I have worked hard for most of the year, and have revised "The General's Heir" into a much tighter and stronger novel.  I not only finished it (mostly), but have three new readers in the process now of giving me feedback.  There is small stuff to fix, but they are easy fixes.  Additionally, I wrote my query letter, and sent it out to six literary agents.  Two asked to see my work, and ultimately passed, two sent form rejections, one sent a personally worded rejection, and I am waiting to hear back from the sixth.  Finally, I have begun to work with David Hazard, an amazing writing coach, who believes I have talent, and is pushing me in directions I need to go.

Otherwise?  Still married and mothering.

Plan 2... well, I went back and forth on the walking.  I pushed myself to walk the dog far more frequently than I used to... but does that count as good walking?  On one hand, I think no.  But, on the other hand, I have been walking longer walks with her than we used to, and I read somewhere that even an extra five minutes a day adds up over the course of the year.  So, I am going to give that one a VERY qualified success.

Plan 3... Well.  Hmm.  Not so much.

Okay, so thank you, 2011.  Next time... my Plan for 2012.

Don't Let The Door Hit You In The Ass On Your Way Out

I am not sure if I have an appropriate mindset for blogging, truth be told...  I have been treating this as an online journal, which works for me.  I have told almost no one about this blog.  And I get kinda cranky when unknowns stumble across it.  Mostly because they comment by leaving SPAM.

SPAM sucks.  So, SPAMMERS... this is for you... (she says with an evil smile):

Dear Jay /Mike /Other "casual" name,


Yeah, I kinda noticed that no one reads my blog.  Do you really think I ought to use the service you used to increase your hits?  'Cause, wow, wouldn't it be awesome to get a dozen or more hits in a day!  Zowee...  Where have I been going wrong?  


Oh wait.  I know.


I don't promote my blog.  Anywhere.  Not on Faceborg, not to my friends.  Hell, most people don't even know I have a blog.  And, see, you just MIGHT have noticed that it is kinda hard to comment on my blog.  I set it up that way...so not just any jackass can leave comments, or, for example, SPAM on my on-line journal.


Huh.  Do you kinda see where this is going?  Yeah.  I don't give a shit if you think I can increase my traffic.


I haven't exactly laid out the welcome mat, have I?


Thanks ever so!


Yours truly,
Zombie Grrrl

The inability to focus

I should be writing.  The Boy has been in school for over two weeks now.  The Husband, although home sick, is upstairs.  I have a new phone, but I figured it out.  The dishwasher is empty.  The library books are read.  The dog isn't bugging me-- she is sprawled out on the floor, not even snoring.  The weather is kinda dreary-- not enticing me to go outside and weed at all.  The house, although in clear need of the vacuum, is not terrible, and there is no one coming to visit any time soon.

So why am I blogging instead of tearing into the book?  The book is done.  Yeah, I have lots of things I can keep working on.  But, I could edit until the end of the world.  I just need to send it out to the people who have agreed to read it.

I am feeling unfocused, kinda blurry even.  I cannot keep from daydreaming.  I have no real desire to do anything.  I am not depressed-- I know what that is.  I am just going through the motions right now.  Part of me knows I need to recharge my batteries.  I have failed MISERABLY at Plan 3-- the whole taking time for me thing.  And this last two months have been terrible for that.  The OAP festival, the wedding, the houseguests, the illnesses, the Husband being gone for ten days and now ill for the third week running.  I am getting to take two days in October for myself, but not until the fourth weekend of October.

People can live for like six minutes without oxygen.  A day with no water.  A week with no sleep.  A month with no food.

How long can a person live without a recharge?  My guess is a long time.  But is it really living, or is it just living?

Irony

I vowed here to give up acting, right? I read it here. And here. I shared how suddenly I got some offers. Granted, they were for unpaid work. But, still, there they were. But that was gonna be it, right?

And then I checked my email that afternoon.... "Blah blah blah. Hey, will you be one of the actors in the new Christmas Follies?"

And then this week. "Hi, I own a murder mystery company,and would like to bring you on board, if you are interested."

So, here, I publicly declare: I no longer want a million dollars. Nope. I will give up my dream of a million dollars.

Oh, wait. That doesn't work. I have to reluctantly give up something that I care about, like acting, in hopes that the itch of something new, like writing, will be scratched. Remember what this blog is about, remember? "Not Doing It"

I really enjoy writing, and feel great satisfaction when I am writing. I feel this low grade urge ALL THE PHUCKING TIME to dive back into The General's Heir and finish that mutherphucker. I also have this new writing idea about zombies. I know, old hat now, but the itch doesn't care. This idea is simmering just like The General's Heir did. How I want to dig in...

And yet, acting calls, if you can call the clamoring a 'call'. More like a brick of noise to the side of the head. I won't do the follies, I think. One, I don't really want to, even if I love the producer. Two, really, if I am going to get pulled out of my writing from now on, it DAMN well better be for a paycheck. I am a mercenary, if nothing else. Or maybe a whore? Ha! I can see it now....

ME: Sorry, honey, no sex tonight-- I have to write.

HIM: Write? But I just put on the camo briefs you like!

ME: Think of this as my job. Just like the acting gigs.

HIM: Nope.

ME: What?

HIM: You are gonna have to spell it out for me. If I'm not getting any tonight, you have to explain.

ME: Okay, so, when I am sitting at the computer from 8-12 tonight, I am writing my book.

HIM: I thought you were finished with it!

ME: You are right. I am trying to finish the edits!

HIM: How is this like the acting gigs? I haven't seen you depositing any checks.

ME: Think about it like the rehearsals for the acting gigs. The paycheck just comes a little later.

HIM: I can buy that, I guess. But what is your time worth?

ME: Huh?

HIM: So, you have an acting gig. How much do you get paid?

ME: A hundred, I think, usually.

HIM: Huh. And how long are you gone when doing the acting gig?

ME: Oh, the usual? Two hours for the actual gig, but add another two for travel. So, four hours?

Him: So, you get twenty-five an hour for your time. Is that right?

ME: ...Well, I guess... when you put it like that...

HIM: And that doesn't include the rehearsal time, does it?

ME: ...Not as such...

HIM: 'Cause, hell, I have a twenty in my wallet, and we can be done in half an hour.

ME: ...Uh...

HIM: And, I will throw in a big O for you! You cannot get that kind of satisfaction from your paid gigs!

ME: ...But I am an Artist!

HIM: Artists gotta eat. Or, well, you know what I mean.

ME: But-

HIM: And you won't have to travel any farther than upstairs. And when we are done, you can go back downstairs and write!

ME: But I have to be in the right frame of mind, in the zone! I cannot just get on the computer and go through the motions, and fake it....

HIM: Uh-huh? What were you about to say?

ME: ...Um, get upstairs. And I will put on the sexy shoes.

(Apologies to the Hubby. He is incredibly supportive. Oh, and Happy Birthday to me. I am officially old now.)

God (or whomever) loves to make a liar out of me

Ha ha, so remember when I said no more acting until I was done with my book? That very week, I was approached to fill out an incomplete cast in one of the One Acts... and then as soon as that was done, I got begged to fill out another incomplete cast... for the very show that made me realize I needed to get serious. Did I say no? I sure tried. Shit.

But, now to brag a bit about how successful a month as an I artist I have

had. First, the visual art, the sculpture I mentioned awhile back, SOLD!!! And apparently, there have been lots of inquiries about it, people disappointed that it sold already, and wanting to know if I make them regularly. Hilarious. Take a look at it. I LOVE how a snarky piece about women being slaves to fashion, featuring a freaking HANGING... is in demand. Oh, and that red dot? That would be the SOLD sign...

And, the OAP festival went really well for me as a director. One of my plays was awarded the Golden Cow (yeah, really!) for Best Production, my lead actress was named Best Performer, AND the other script I directed won Best Script. So, my script didn't win anything, but I am over it. The production left quite a lot to be desired-- the actors were kinda all over the place... Oh well.

Now, I am winding down from the invasion of family, and should be able to dive back into writing, especially once school begins. I am so close to being done I can TASTE it...

Nut up or Shut up

I have been writing every day for the past week. Classes are over, I am free of the arts council stuff, and my two current directing projects are soooo much less consuming than my class projects. I think I can actually see me finishing the edits this week or next.

But, 'finishing' the book is just one more step. I have a shortlist of folks to read the book (I am aiming for mid-August, my friends), and then I'll get to do another round of edits, I suspect. I am hoping it is mostly small stuff-- clarification and continuity details, and grammar/spelling issues. I am HOPING that by the time the Boy begins school in September, I will be working on the soul-killing part-- the research on publishers and agents, the solicitations, and, of course, the rejections.

Frankly, I am looking forward to that part. Once the research is completed, and I start sending stuff out, I can jump back into working on Book 2, which now has a title!! I wrote my "Long Term Story Arc" (code for very loose outline) for the five novels. Book 2 will need a LOT of work now-- some things have changed in Book 1 since I split the two, so there are some slight alterations to characters, relationships, and also some BIG shifts for characters, plot, and relationships... It will be fun, I think.

But, now for the hard choice. A show that I have ALWAYS wanted to do is going up in October. I actually auditioned for a different company's production of this show about a year ago, but they couldn't get the men they needed (ha!). I was preparing to think about auditioning for this one, and then I stopped myself. If I do that show, it would seriously cut into my ability to work on my writing....

So, I am not doing it. And, I decided that I won't be acting until I at LEAST get Book 1 out the door. And that is that. One of the things from the March writing conference I attended in March, I keep on a sticky note on my computer monitor. I can see it right now. It says, "Make this a priority or don't."

I am not giving up acting. I love acting. My abilities as an actor are part of what make my characters the way they are. However, I began writing Book 1 on December 31, 2007. In the immortal words of Tallahassee (one of my favorite films Zombieland), I need to either "nut up, or shut up."

So, I am nutting up. No more acting, no more arts council, no additional volunteering opportunities, no more art projects....

Nut up or Shut up.

uh... heh heh

Since no one reads this anyway, I guess I can feel free now to just go with the flow. I blame my lack of productivity on the Boy, the Dog, the Air Conditioning, and... and hurricanes.

The book is getting there. Really. School is out, the studio tour is done, and I finished my last mutherphucking board meeting last night. I do have a summer class to continue prepping for, and I am directing two shows for that one act festival. Oh, and the script I submitted is being produced. Creativity is flowing, along with the wine.

I entered an art show. I am supposed to make art out of some odds and ends from a hardware store. So far, I have constructed a female figure out of copper wire, and have built her a skirt out of window screen material. I have a metal corset top planned, and cool accessories out of nuts. But I am not having fun. Nope. Not even

a little. I always hated costume design, and sewing, and constructing stuff. And how I loathe having to be creative, and finding that I have the mental capacity for creativity.

This may be a wee bit of sarcasm, but I am not certain.

Let summer come. Nothing that a glass of sangria won't fix. And if not a glass, then a pitcher... You see, I am happy.

Shocking, I know. All I do is bitch and moan about not having time to write, or time to care for my Boy, or freedom from shitty meetings with people I loathe.

But... Plan 1. I did it. I have decided what I want to do. I have decided what I care about. And, I decided what I didn't want to do.

Now, I have moved on. I can have a glass of wine with my friends, or write, or flex my creative muscles in creating my incredibly bad art. Or, maybe, I can work on my art. Because I can now. I have the emotional energy for it. For the first time in quite a while, I might be able to practice my art, rather than just 'support' it.

Never fear. I am not descending into narcissism. I have decided that I do care about the studio tour, and will serve on that committee. And yeah, I will spending time with my friends and my family, but I will not be 'Networking' now. Rather, I will be 'Building Relationships'.

I have this sneaking feeling that some of my friends have enjoyed my company, and didn't care what I was doing on the arts council.

Here's to the more relaxed and happy me. Yeah, this was a rambling post that didn't really address a theme. Hence the dumb title.

Sangria, anyone?

Anger

The end of the school year approaches. The Boy will be home, and then I will be teaching over the summer. No more regular writing schedule.

I am terrified. I get seriously cranky when I have an appointment that interrupts my writing schedule. I don't like the routine breaking down. And the routine is going to be GONE for three months.

I want to write. I find myself secretly hoping my classes don't make, so I can just write while the Boy is off attending the summer camps I signed him up for. I entertained a thought recently about ditching the classes altogether. I am pleased as punch to be around my family, friends, hell, even walking the dog... but I would rather be writing.

And that is kinda why the blog has been neglected recently.

Sorry-- blogging cannot compete with the book. I am over halfway through my revisions. I feel the final draft coming closer. I don't know if I can get it done before the end of this month. Argh.

Progress

First thing, dear Readers. Many of you have complained about the comment verification thing. I will attempt to dislodge it. I did add an easy feature, kinda like 'liking' on Faceborg.

Well. I did it. I sent my resignation letter. Even that made me anxious. I cannot wait 'til June 13. I believe I made a good decision, but I cannot help but worry about it. What can I say? I am a worrier.

The title of this post is 'Progress'. I believe I am making progress toward Plan 1: "Figure out what you are NOT going to do, make it happen, and move on."

-I have put my acting on hold for now. I can come back to it someday, but now is my time.

-I have set an end date for my arts volunteering. I may continue to serve, but not on the board.

And, on the positive side of my plan, I have settled into a nice writing place. I have been hard at work editing, simmering ideas, and strengthening my work. I have written a short play, a few short stories, and keep on working on the novel. Additionally, I have attended a writing workshop, and am part of a newly formed writing group. We just had our first meeting on Friday, and I got some good feedback.

I will admit, I am a little worried about this summer. The Boy is done with school at the end of May, and that means my 7.5 hours writing a week will be gone. I am scheduled to teach 5 weeks this summer, and during that time, I will make little or no progress on my novel. Before the end of June, I need to re-write a short play, and create a new melodrama... from scratch. Writing it will be... but not what I want to be doing. I am torn, frankly. I want to teach this summer-- it is my best earning period-- but I also kinda find myself hoping that maybe one class won't make.

Which brings me back to the last outside activity that steals my time and mental energies. Teaching. I love the teaching-- it keeps me in the theatre world, and challenges me. But, one of the pearls of wisdom I gathered from my writing workshop was this: Make writing a priority or don't.

Should I jettison EVERYTHING to give this my hardest effort? It would not be a bad thing to get this finally off my plate, and see if it is worth my time. Hell, if I could sell it in the next year, it would certainly come at a good time. My husband and I just agreed to rent our house for one more year, and that would get the Boy through his last year of preschool. If the book sold well enough, it could help us afford to buy what we are holding out for: a modest home on 10+ acres. (10, so the Husband can hunt, and I can garden.) It would be nice to be able to buy a new car (or two) since our cars are both approaching fifteen years...

I will have to think on it. In the meantime, I need to work on the 'move on' part of shedding the arts council. I woke up at 2AM this morning, and didn't go back to sleep until after 5AM.

Move on.

** Note about what you are about to read. At the writing workshop I attended, at one point, we were directed to look at pictures scattered on a table, pick one, and write a scene in fifteen or twenty minutes or so. I looked, and found a picture of a cloister hall, perhaps not a cloister but a Moorish palace? (not the image you see here). The beauty of the architecture struck me, as did the lighting. However, what struck me most was the sense of emptiness in the hall. I sat down to write, and here you have...

THE CLOISTER

The days had been quiet of late. Sister Marguerite had grown tired of watching from the walls of the cloister, her sanctuary. Sounds no longer echoed, and she passed her days quietly, tending the garden and praying.

The halls were not traveled, for there were no more. Father Emilio returned every day before sundown, and would shake his head sadly. Sister Marguerite would nod her head, and serve the père the meal for the day, a simple soup and fresh bread.

This afternoon, she waited as usual, watching from the walls. Father Emilio should appear on the road, and he would be alone, as always.

Today, he was not.

He hurried up the road, pulling his wagon behind, a draped human form clearly visible alongside the usual bundles of cans and packages of food and supplies.

Sister Marguerite hastily descended the narrow staircase and crossed the hall to the reinforced gate that protected the cloister.

“Open the gate, Sister, for God’s sake, open the gate!”

Sister Marguerite paused, her fingers resting on the heavy mechanism of the lock. She peered through the small pass-through and studied the père.

“Father Emilio, I ask forgiveness, but you must show me.”

“The sun is setting, Sister, please!”

Sister Marguerite’s suspicions increased.

“Father, you must show me.”

Impatiently, Father Emilio opened his robe and exposed his body. His thin frame appeared unharmed, no obvious wounds.

Sister Marguerite averted her eyes only once as he demonstrated that he was clean. She turned her eyes to the cart.

“What is there, Father?”

“Sister, I beg you, give me entrance! The sun will set any moment!”

Truly, the walls around Sister Marguerite were golden with the fading sun.

“Father, you must show me who you have brought.”

Father Emilio’s hands closed his robe, and he looked at her imploringly.

“Please let me in, and I will explain all.”

There was a small noise from the cart, and Sister Marguerite saw the bundle of rags move.

“You must abandon the body.”

“Sister—she is only a child. We can help her!”

“No. I will not open the gate until you have saved her soul.”

“Sister—please—we can help her!”

“I will not open the gate until you save her soul, Father.”

The sunlight had all but vanished, and the halls were no longer orange, but growing cooler in palettes of blues and grays. The torch she had lit in the dining hall did not provide any comfort.

Father Emilio banged on the gate, almost weeping.

“Father, do it! I will pray for you and for her.”

Sister Marguerite, neglecting to drop to her knees, crossed herself and began her prayers.

Father Emilio gave her one last imploring, desperate look before whipping the cloth from the stirring body.

The child, a young woman really, lay as if sleeping. Angelic blond hair curled gently around her face. Pale limbs shifted slightly. One detail marred her beauty: two mangled marks on her neck.

Father Emilio made the sign of the cross. From his belt, he withdrew the large wooden cross which dangled on small wooden beads. He kissed it, and then unwound the leather thong which bound the two points together. He now held a long, sharp wooden stake.

The child suddenly stretched, and her eyes opened. Blue. She turned to face the père.

Before she could smile, or speak, the Father raised his hands over his head, and thrust the stake into the child’s breast.

Her shrieks were terrible.

Sister Marguerite doubted only a moment as she continued her prayers, but then the form began to crumble, and she crossed herself as the blood drinker died.

Sister Marguerite unlocked the door, and pulled the cart inside as Father Emilio gave the crumbling corpse her Last Rites.

He brushed the ash away from his robes, and glared at the Sister.

“We can try to cure them. We must try!”

Sister Marguerite shook her head sadly.

“We can save only their souls, Father Emilio. Ashes to ashes…”

Long after Sister Marguerite had wheeled the cart down the darkened halls to the kitchen, Father Emilio remained at the gate, praying that the body could be reclaimed from the evil as easily as the soul.

[this is MY story, and if you steal it, mutherphucker, I will HUNT you down.]

Daylight Savings Blows

I got out of my routine for almost three weeks! First there was the writing workshop, which I will talk about later. Then there was the trip to Texas... which I will talk about later. And then there was the whole 'I-chose-to-travel-outside-my-time-zone-right-when-Daylight-Savings-hit,-and-now-have-no-freaking-clue-what-time-it-is-now-that-I-am-back' thing. Which I won't talk about later, because I am going to talk about it now.

Yeah, so all last week, the first week back, neither the Boy nor I had any clue what we were doing. We were sleeping ridiculously late every day, we could not quite figure out what day it was, and we dragged like a Stanley Kubrick film. It was a surreal week, lemme tell you. The Boy actually napped a few afternoons, just because he was so confused and tired. Poor us.

But the trip to Texas was the best I have ever had since moving to Yankee land. Really. I crammed in a lot-- the first full day there, I spent with my parents, but crammed in four other sets of relatives, and also traveled from San Antonio to Temple. I got to see family and friends that I hadn't seen in years. Some are college buddies that I have seen fairly recently-- one I saw in February, and another last summer, and the last a few years ago, although we have spoken on the phone. Two sets of family I had not seen since my wedding-- almost ten years ago.

And, then I managed to also see two friends that I had not seen since high school... Both knew me back in the sixth grade. I hated Temple, and Central Texas, and really cut the chords as fast as I could. But, Facebook reunited us. And so I got to have lunch with Karen in Waco, and then hit the zoo with my folks and the Boy (I saw two rhinos!). And I got to go have a grown-up evening in Austin my last night in Texas, dinner and then karaoke, and had a great time singing old show tunes with Dylan, several college buddies and the two bridesmaids from my wedding. We did every show tune we could think of and also did a lot of Queen, and the requisite 80s crap. Good times.

Before the trip, I attended the writing workshop. I loved it. Not only was one of my best friends attending as well (so we got to carpool), but it was just a great time. I have a lot of concrete steps to use in my editing process, and.... as part of a writing exercise, I wrote a short story that kinda floored the rest of the class.

Lest it appear that I am bragging, let me hasten to share something that FINALLY sank in. I have been writing constantly for years. I thought I had just done it here and there. I thought that because I didn't count the play writing I have done for my classes. But I have written TONS of scripts. Enough that I really ought to collect them, edit them, and publish a collection of children's scripts. They've all been produced, and many of them re-written. So, was I able to spit out a nice short story that didn't require much explanation? Yep.

Anyway, the workshop was a great refresher for me as a writer, in that it reminded me of the basics of writing, and all the little elements I should be thinking of and working on. I also got some really new ideas, and I am excited to be using them as I work on my book.

My next blog, I will simply share the short story I wrote. I like it, and I hope you enjoy it too.

You can never go home

This week I attend the writing workshop I signed up for. I also will (I think) receive input on the three chapters I submitted as a writing sample. I am a bit nervous, but I am mostly excited. The workshop is scheduled for Thursday through Sunday... although I am a space cadet and booked a flightfor Sunday morning. I already spoke with the instructor, who told me I would be okay missing the last day. It makes me a little cranky that I will be missing it, but I planned a trip to Texas and cashed airline miles BEFORE I looked at my calendar. Like I said, space cadet.

Texas? Oh, yeah, I am going to Texas for a week with the Boy. I have not seen my grandmother since 2007. She is about a million years old, and ornery, and really doesn't like little kids. So, why am I going? Because I need to (read: guilt). Funny thing, seeing her is the reason I have to do this trip-- I cannot take time later on this year because of work and school-- but I am only going to be seeing her for an hour or so on my first full day in Texas. Otherwise, I am cramming in lots of other relatives, friends, and sightseeing.

I have not spent any time tooling around my hometown since I was still in college. I found out, while booking this trip, that the public library building is now a branch of the local college. That building was beautiful. It had a windy staircase to the second floor (adult fiction), and a creepy little hidden stair to the basement (juvenile books). There was a creaky old elevator, and a wide open, sunlit foyer just inside the front doors. There were two entrances to the building.... Yes, that building made quite an impression on me.

There are also parks, restaurants, a train museum, and all sorts of other things. My hometown has changed a lot. I don't miss it. Trust me. I don't miss being a freak of nature-- hating football and country music, dreaming of culture and valuing education. I have no interest in seeing most of the people who are still around. I have a few friends from those times that I rediscovered on Faceborg, and I will be attempting to spend time with them.

I dreamed of nothing else in high school than escaping out of Central Texas. I studied hard, did lots of extra-curricular activities, and bugged the college counselor endlessly-- all to get the hell out of there. I now avoid all calls for class reunions, or homecoming crap. God, I hated high school.

But, sometimes, you just gotta go visit. Maybe I will find that having grown up will make me a little less antagonistic to Central Texas. Maybe I will find that both the town and I have changed. I will never be a country music loving, football game attending kind of girl, but maybe I can appreciate the opportunity to at least see what I escaped and what I miss.

Like what hell happened to the public library.

Anyway, I will be in the writing workshop all day on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and then gone March 13-19. I may or may not post during that time. Who knows.

My final news is this-- I wrote my ten minute play. It was cathartic, and not just because I managed to cram in all sorts of awful topics into ten minutes, all while avoiding any nudity, cursing, or blood on stage. Anyway, I have to re-title it. The current title is the only thing that displeases me. And then I have to finish formatting it, and then submit it. I hope to do that before the Wednesday, so I can be done with it, and move on to other projects.

Cheers!

Bad, Naughty February!

February wasn't a good month for my Plan, apparently.

I didn't walk regularly. Now, there were some weather issues, and health issues, but still. I took no recharge breaks either. And, I have gone no further in figuring out what I am NOT going to do than setting a date for either resigning from my board or going inactive (June!).

However, I am pleased to report that I did finally finish the body of the book, and even added a prologue/short story. I don't know if the short story will be able to stand alone, but I am pondering it. Is there editing to do? You bet. I am also having to figure out some formatting issues. I plan to read the whole thing aloud in my final edit, before I get copies to my peer reviewers. I think I have them all picked out.

Additionally, I have a trip planned to Texas for the middle of the month. I need to see my grandmother. It has been four years since I last saw her, and I haven't visited my folks in about as long... I will also be seeing some high school and college classmates during the trip, which will be cool. It will also be a bit weird, methinks.

Let's see, anything else to report. Oh, yes, the 10-minutes one act play festival. I was asked by my boss if I would submit a script for this festival, and of course I said yes. I found out yesterday that submitting a script would mean not acting in any of the plays; and that it all has to be 'family friendly'... whatever the hell that means.

Rant time! Yay!!! I am so FREAKING sick of 'family friendly' theatre in this county. WHY does everything have to be family geared? Are adults second class citizens? I like dark humor, and language, and 'adult situations'... but can I see that on a stage in this county? NOT BLOODY LIKELY.... And it is not just the theatres.... it is everywhere... I cannot TELL you how many times I have gone to my favorite bar, after nine PM, and found CHILDREN there with their parents!!!!

I have reviewed grants for arts funding for the last five years. There are a handful of theatre companies that apply for funding.... and in their FREAKING mission statements they state 'wholesome, family friendly entertainment.' Guess how many list 'morally suspect, adult themed entertainment'.... NONE.

Either I am so far out the norm that I am definitely going to hell, or there is an UNTAPPED market in this county. I hosted a play reading (Anti-Valentine's Day was the theme), and it was an afternoon of Christopher Durang one-acts. We all had fun.

Maybe I should just create my own theatre company, and put in the mission statement: To foster an irreverent, mildly salacious culture and entertain grownups.

Okay, rant mostly done. Now I need to look up a website for creating voodoo dolls before writing my 'family friendly' script.... with zombies....

Hi. My name is General Madera.

I started writing the short story/ prologue. It could be its own novel. It could be. But, I am working to keep it manageable. Rather, I plan to mercilessly slash it down after I have it all done. It is around ten pages right now. I like editing down. I think this will be interesting. It is fun tweaking words, compressing information, and leaving what is important.

I am learning a lot of things about the world, and what happened. I actually had to take the time to write down a timeline of events. This involved flipping back and forth through a lot of material. It was worth it. I suspect the timeline for this world will become ever more detailed.

Oh, I didn't mention the really interesting part of this story. It is written in first person.... from General Madera's perspective. I started writing it in omniscient third person. Something was bothering me about it, though. It was reading as a really dry summary, in my opinion. I needed to spice it up, give it some personality. And the idea suddenly hit me. We have not met General Madera EVER. We only hear what other people think or say about him.

I rewrote it all. I am excited about this. But it made me realize something about my writing. I rarely use first person. Really. I cannot remember anything I have written in first person. I must have written in first person as part of a class, or something. I use first person in poetry, when I decide to make my sorry attempts. Rather, when I made my sorry attempts. I don't write poetry anymore. I don't really even like to read it.

Sidetrack. So anyway, I have a ten page short story written from General Madera's perspective, and we finally hear some firm information about what happened to the world, how he rose to power, and (drum roll) the Chihuahua rebellion. I am in middle of it right now.

I cannot wait to find out what happens.