Month: August 2013

Hold My Hand Until I Can Fake It, Please.

There was a time in my not-so-long-ago past when I wept without shame on an airplane, terrified to the point that a stranger (bless her heart, I’m so grateful to her to this day!) held my hand across the aisle to comfort me until we began to descend and I calmed down. Was this a horrifically turbulent flight across the Atlantic? Hardly. It was 45 minutes from Austin to Dallas. No bumps. It might have been cloudy, which probably hurled me into the panic attack in the first place. And I was on Xanax, people.

I’ve come a long way. If that same woman saw me now, she would beam with pride. Hey, I’ve flown to Hawaii since then – sans Xanax! Yes, I was nervous, but I acted like I wasn’t. That’s the key. You just have to fake yourself out – tell yourself you are a pro. Put your head up and walk right in there like you’ve done it a million times. Eliminate any doubts that pop up immediately – SQAUSH! Because you don’t have doubts, you’re a PRO. Stewardess, can I have a pillow? Me sleepy – YAWN.

My point is, sometimes I require hand holding.

Which brings me to the now. I have a finished novel. For two years it’s been my WIP, and now WTF? I’ll tell you WTF. An OCEAN of information. An ocean in which I am a drop of water. The good news? I have found writers to be the most generous and supportive people on the planet, and I’m not just sayin’ that. I have connected with dozens of dynamic, talented, brave, amazing writers who are now my lighthouses. And they just keep comin’. I’m beyond grateful.

After two years of researching the subject, I’ve decided to self-publish. It’s A LOT of work (no matter which publishing route you take) but I’m determined to put the best possible product out there. I want it to be a labor of love, a collaborative effort with a team of people to help me with the stuff I can’t do (professionally edit, cover design, etc.) and I have a lot to learn along the way. But I have a plan…

BABY STEPS.

If I look at the big picture I’ll end up on the floor in the fetal position hyperventilating in a puddle of my own drool. So I’ll take one step at a time. Right now I’m revising and shopping editors. That’s IT. I’m not allowed to think about anything beyond that. I can read about the beyond all I want; I can flag links about formatting, or cover design, or whatever… but I can’t DO. I won’t dilute the quality of what I’m doing now with stress about the future.

I’m going to stick my head up and walk right into this process, baby step by baby step, and if I get confused or overwhelmed – and I will – I know I have an incredible community around me to light the way, or maybe even hold my hand for a little while.

A Stitch in Time…or however the hell that goes…

So I’m supposed to be having this stellar writing day. The kids are back in school (happy dance!) and now I can be one of those mythological creatures: a *productive writer*. I have so many things on my writing to-do list it resembles a page from a phone book: everything from posting (this counts), to working on smaller writing projects, to editing my novel (haven’t even cracked it open and it’s nearing 2:00), and a slew of non-writing to-do’s.

I thought – no brainer. Kids are gone by 8:00. I’ll dabble online, finish a few little things, work on a short story, then lunch, then edit for 3 solid hours.

That
did
not
happen.

Where did the time go? Did I really just lose an entire day? I answered emails and tweets, made a few tweaks to my blog, and all the sudden it’s well past lunchtime! And I think I ate – but I’m not really sure – it’s all sort of hazy. There’s a blop of dried salsa on my sock and chip remnants near the couch. What kind of lunch is that? OH GOD, What else did I eat?

My sink is full, my laundry’s overflowing, I haven’t showered, the dog isn’t walked, and I’ve accomplished no errands. I’VE HAD ALL DAY. Oh, crap, I just realized I forgot (again) to take something out for dinner. Meat can thaw in an afternoon, right? I’m good, I’m good.

The takeaway here is NOT that mass amounts of salsa results in chin acne (but it does), it’s that I need a schedule. (you thought I was gonna say a shower, didn’t you?) Yes. A new, bright, shiny writing schedule. I can’t fall into the abyss of emails and tweets for 3 hours anymore. And editing is my priority – it HAS to come FIRST.

Okay, ready gang? Tomorrow – PRODUCTIVE WRITER: Take 2!

Do you have a writing schedule that helps you stay on task? If so, PLEASE SHARE!

**Why didn’t you remind me to take the meat out! I still haven’t done it. Honestly, you are no help sometimes…

No wig needed – I’ve got mascara

If you’ve been to this blog before you’ve probably seen one or two photos of me floating around somewhere. THEY’RE ME. I swear. That’s something I’ve actually had to say to my family.

I think they look exactly like me. I’m mean, it’s frickin’ ME. I turned the cell phone around and snapped the photos myself – that’s how I know it’s not an imposter. That’s also why it shocked me when my husband AND CHILDREN repeatedly swore the photos didn’t look like me.

uh…how am I supposed to take that?

After hearing my husband say it again, I had to ask him: in what way do they not look like me? Like, they are pretty photos and I’m a barker in real life? Or, they are awful and I’m prettier than that? Or, they are weird and not a representation of me at all? WTF?

He said, “You look sexy. You have on lipstick and stuff.”

ME: “Oh” *puzzle pieces click* “You mean I usually don’t look that made up?”

HIM: “Not really. If you have a bra on in that photo…that would pretty much be our wedding day.”

Well shit. I realize I’m a low-maintenance, crunchy granola type gal, but it’s more than a little disconcerting to know I could disappear into the witness protection program with a little mascara. I mean, I put no effort into those photos.

No really. I took my hair out of a ponytail and put on tinted chapstick. And my children think it looks like someone else. Some other lady.

ahem. Perhaps I should put more effort into my everyday appearance.

*braids hair* *climbs into tree house* Nah.
tree-house-5264768

Chaos Elves: 2: Collections

The 6yo has a strange habit. A collecting habit. But he’s not collecting toy cars, or video games, or baseballs. No, that would be too…predictable. He’s just collecting.

We’ll be at the park/zoo/beach and he’ll run at me with feverish intent, only to hand me a small length of broken shoe string, or a feather, or a bottle cap. “Here, for my collection,” he’ll say before running away. He collects anywhere inspiration strikes. Small piles of these random accumulations sit in various bowls, drawers, and niches all over our house.

treasures

There seems to be no specific criteria for what makes it into his trash hoarding stockpile: anything goes. He’s even handed me wet, wilted reeds from the bottom of pools. When asked what purpose these items serve, he answers simply, “To remember.”

I’ve come to realize these tiny tokens enshrine moments. They are his way of keeping memories alive, which makes the piles around my house (and bottom of my purse) like little photo albums, filled with special snapshots of his life.

Well damn.

That tugs at my heart a little. I might even be tempted to use the word endearing.

And then I recall that this is the same child who – at the age of four when I told him he couldn’t have candy at the checkout counter of Target – screamed repeatedly, “YOU’RE A PENIS!”

Not so endearing anymore. Nope. Notsomuch.

Oh, please share with me your kiddo’s worst, most embarrassing tantrum! Mine have done it all…and I mean ALL. I LOVE hearing from you! You all make me laugh more than anyone!

Happy Birthday, Sweetie…

TODAY is my husband’s birthday. That poses more problems that you would think. It’s very hard to buy for him. Why? Because he shops for himself so damn much he has freaking everything. He is a deal-hound with shopping tenacity that beats me down to NO end.

I. Don’t. Shop.

THAT IS WHY when he told me last week specifically what he wanted: the brand, the size, color, and where to buy it, I said, “done and done!”

FRIDAY, I took the Chaos Elves into a store (this is ill advised) and we picked out several of these *special* workout shirts for him per his very specific instructions. We were in/out in ten minutes. Frickin’ brilliant.

PLEASE recall this was Friday, after a week of being home with the elves for five days – 11 hours a day – and it was now evening and I’m wondering where my husband is at 7:00, starving-because-he’s-supposed-to-be-picking-up-our-food, when I get this text:
(mine are in green)

photo

A) Yes. Those shirts he’s asking me about are precisely the ones he told me to buy for him. AND he’s out shopping when he should be home. With food.
B) Note that my needs have heavily prioritized to food at this point.
C) I am very cranky when I get hungry.
D) We have been together 17 years. How has this man not learned when it is time to feed me?
E) You’re right, that was a harsh word to say to my husband on his birthday weekend. He’s such a great man, really. Okay, I take back “Duh”.
EFF!) It took me 17 times to get this text photo to upload right. I said bad words. I hope I get more tech-savvy soon.

What are YOU reading?

It amazes me how I can spend half an hour pouring over book jackets, paying special attention to editorial reviews and five-star ratings….blah, blah, blah….only to finally narrow down what I think is THE book, read it, and end up disappointed. Not horribly disappointed; just not WOWED.

I WANT TO BE WOWED.

Don’t we all? I want to have what I heard my friend refer to as a book hangover when I’m done reading it. I want to miss the characters…bad. I want to be bummed as hell it’s over.

It occurred to me that almost every single book I’ve ever LOVED was a referral. I don’t think I ever just picked up a book at random that ended up being on my “I freaking love this book” list. I guess I just SUCK IT at picking out awesomeness. (friends and husbands excluded)

-SO-

What are YOU reading right now? Please comment and share with me…