Hi there. Long time no see. It’s me, not you. I’ve been slack.

But tonight I’m putting a hold on the smoothies I promised to make for D and myself, in order to write this post. So listen up. Because it’s important. And because smoothies are on the line!

Lately I’ve been feeling down in the dumps, and it’s not just because of my recent terrible haircut. It’s also because of a project I’ve been working on, which is not going quite where I want it to. It’s gotten so that the last few days I’ve been trying to think of a reason not to quit. Because somehow I got to this point where quitting doesn’t even feel like quitting. It just feels like not continuing, which doesn’t really sound as bad. Does that make sense? It does to me.

But I’ve put a lot of time and effort into this project. You always hear stories where people were so close to quitting when they finally met with success, so I thought, maybe that’s where I am. Maybe I should hang in there a bit longer. But what’s the point? I need a reason. A really rock-solid reason not to quit–something that will actually force me to keep going. Because this is kind of new for me. I don’t quit. Never. Not really. I’m not even bragging because honestly, sometimes it’s a curse. If I get it in my head to do something, then I JUST. WON’T. LET. IT. GO. So ordinarily what keeps me from giving up is that I can’t admit defeat. But this time that isn’t enough.

Because I kind of want to quit. I’ve turned it into something other than defeat. I’ve turned it into the realistic, responsible thing to do. It would save me a lot of grief (read: feeling depressed at my lack of success and guilty for doing anything besides working on my project). It would be easier.

So, while I was washing dishes tonight, the answer kind of came to me in the form of this blog post. (It seems like I always get half-decent ideas while I’m washing dishes. You might think that’s a good enough reason to wash dishes more often, but I’m still not sold.) Anyway, I was trying to think of one good reason not to quit and I realized it was actually pretty simple: If I quit, then I’ll definitely be in the exact same place that I am right now. Forever. My project can’t possibly succeed. And the disappoint that I feel right now will never go away–why would it? But if I don’t quit–if I keep on trying–then there remain two possibilities ahead of me: One is that I might never succeed. I might remain exactly where I am right now. Forever. With one exception: at least I would know I didn’t give up. But the other possibility is that I will eventually succeed. Until I eliminate that possibility, it’s still out there. It could still happen.

If I quit, then all I do is eliminate hope. I control the future by closing off all possibilities except the one I don’t want.

And hope is enough to keep me going. I wouldn’t condemn anyone to disappointment–I want all your dreams to come true. So why would I do any less for myself?

One of my college professors paraphrased Thomas Edison, and I’ll never forget it. At the time, I thought he made it up. I thought he was a genius. So I will always think of R.L. before poor T.E. when I hear the words, “Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”

I guess what I’m saying is, don’t give up. I won’t if you don’t.

What keeps you going on your low days?

Summer is officially in swing, at least it is here in the South–and I guess it must be gearing up pretty soon in the rest of North America. Sorry Australia. As the weather warms up and my nephew collects spare change in his vacation jug, it puts me in mind of some of my best vacations. Actually it’s hard to choose a best. I’ve been pretty lucky.

Definitely one of the best vacations of my childhood would be the combined summers at Space Camp. I was technically a teenager, technically a middle-schooler, but I can be nerdy enough to admit that space absolutely turned me into an excited little kid and although it wasn’t really anything like the movie, Space Camp was an incredible adventure.

The first year was a whirl-wind. I didn’t know anyone, but it didn’t matter because everyone was a lot like me. I met Heidi right away, a girl who became a very dear, lifelong friend. Much from the two years actually blurs together now, in fact every time I think of a memory from the first year, I start to wonder if it was actually the second year. Which year did I get my head stuck between the bunkbeds? Which year did we build the rocket that was rather hideous and was named The Load Toad? Which year did we look at Jupiter in the giant telescope? Which year did we tour the training facility where astronauts practice weightless maneuvers in dive suits inside a ginormous tank?

I honestly can’t remember anymore. (My memory is terrible. Just ask D. He’s my official memory-keeper. As in, “Remind me to go to the bank. Remind me to eat dinner. Remind me what day it is.”)

What I do remember is that I had so much fun. Every moment was as thrilling as the breathless 4Gs of the Space Shot. Technically, it wasn’t Space Camp. Technically the first year was Space Academy (Level I) and the second year was Advanced Space Academy. Heidi and I were the only girls on the “pilot” track that year, but we hung tough with the boys and loved it. We trained hard and then executed 3 separate missions: We flew the shuttle, we performed experiments on the space station, and we assisted the other teams from the safety of Mission Control. I swear it was exactly like Apollo 13. Except without, you know, Gary Sinise. Or Ed Harris.

There were movies in the OmniMax and private tours of the museum. And So. Many. Dippin’ Dots. We even had our own turn in a big “weightless” metal water tank. Unfortunately I had allergies and was terrified of getting the benz (in 30 feet of water…), so I  snorkeled instead. Probably for the best because a tornado choose that moment to make an appearance, and we were unceremoniously hauled from the tank early and sent down to the safety of the basement museum, our wetsuits still dripping. I am, however, slightly haunted by my fear of scuba diving, and as I have never had a good snorkeling experience (stories to come, I’m sure), I hope some day to scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef.

One of the highlights of camp was meeting an actual astronaut, and somewhere there may still be photographic evidence. I wish I could say that Space Camp was where I learned not to lose my camera, but alas, remember what I said about my memory? If not, then perhaps your memory is worse than mine. That’s a scary thought.

I can’t speak for other programs, but my time at the Huntsville Space and Rocket Center was truly unparalleled, and I would encourage everyone to go–at least for the day. In fact, given what a good time he had at the Ren Faire, it might be time to haul the Star Wars obsessed E down to Alabama for the day.

What are some of your favorite vacation spots? Best memories? Feel free to share–I’m always looking for someplace new to go. As my dad always says, “You want to do everything.” Well maybe not everything–bungee jumping just doesn’t sound like something I should do.

I didn’t post on Saturday because the weather was gorgeous and the Ren Faire was packed. In my 7-year-old nephew’s words, it was his best day ever–in his entire life. I wish that I could say E got his flair for the dramatic from me. But it was a really fun day, and E was hilarious as usual.

He’s also a big reader. He read every sign at the faire, and when we turned on to Castle Rd he said “Oh this must be where the castle is–no, wait that’s cas-T-le, never mind.” When we told him he was right and the T is silent he said, “Oh! Like Django!” Yep. Just like that.

When I was a kid we would spend lots of time at the library each summer, and we would read books off a list our teachers sent home. But E’s 1st grade teacher is pretty great–she set the class a challenge to read 100 books over the summer, and he fully intends to (when he’s not in the pool or hacking apart worms). It got me thinking about how I don’t read nearly as much as I used to, even though I still love it.

Here are my top 4 favorites so far this year (in no particular order):

• The River of No Return – Bee Ridgway: chosen purely because the time period interested me, echoes of Downton Abbey but earlier, more Austen, with time travel and bad guys and intrigue and love. It was brilliant and exciting–impossible to put down.
• Invincible Summer – Hannah Moskowitz: Contemporary YA from a boy’s perspective, which is a rare find, and the writing itself is so achingly beautiful I couldn’t look away. I read the whole thing in one day.
• Quintana of Charyn – Melina Marchetta: hands down my favorite author these days, Melina Marchetta gives life to the most wonderful characters that I adore for their flaws and yearnings as much as their strengths. She’s a master of depicting social groups that you get drawn into and become a part of, and I am only sad that this trilogy has drawn to a close.
• Letters from Skye: a novel – Jessica Brockmole: I picked this up for 2 reasons. It is about an author living on the Isle of Skye, which we visited on our honeymoon and I have since fantasized about having a writer’s retreat there. And it is partially set during WWI, which is a time of particular interest to me at the moment. The narrative unfolds through a series of letters across 2 World Wars, making the story feel both grand and intimately nostalgic at the same time.

Of course I have a massive to-read list to keep me busy for the rest of the year. Who are some of your favorite authors, and what are some of the best books you’ve read this year? I always love suggestions!

Last weekend was my alma mater’s high school graduation. A thrilling, momentous (and gorgeous) day! It made me think back to my own graduation and the fact that what scared me at 18 scares me still: moving forward into the unknown. In fact, if I could go back and give myself advice it would probably be this: The future is scary. It never stops being scary. Get used to it. And don’t be scared.

Don’t get me wrong, I was excited to leave high school, to venture out of state to college, to make new friends and take classes towards two majors I was passionate about (screenwriting! creative writing! so much writing!). But I was also terrified. My high school was a cocoon of all that was familiar and comfortable and good. Not that every day was bliss. There were fights and tears and stress. But what I realized on graduation night was that I wasn’t ready to leave. I’m never ready to leave: not school, not a party, not vacation. I’m not ready to leave for work in the morning, and I’m not ready to leave work in the afternoon. And I’m NEVER ready to go to bed at night, no matter how tired I feel.

I spent much of the summer before college doing what I loved: reading–and finally there was no required reading. Free to read what I wanted, I think I read nothing but Orson Scott Card. I’m not going to get political here because this was during an innocent time before the internet gobbled me whole, so these books were merely the words on the page and what I brought to them.

I remember it so clearly. I was sitting on the deck at my parents’ house, feeling sorry for myself because in a few months time I would be far away from the beautiful rolling hills, when I came to one specific passage.

Alvin grimaced at him.  ‘Taleswapper, I’m not ready to leave home yet.’
‘Maybe folks have to leave home before they’re ready, or they never get ready at all.”

I stopped and read it again. Because although I had not named it out loud, that was me. I was Alvin. And Taleswapper’s words were exactly what I needed to hear: it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to not feel ready. Because if you wait to feel ready, then you’ll be waiting forever. Sometimes you have to jump out of the plane and trust that your parachute will open.*

*(Please note, I have never been sky diving, but I know someone who has, so that’s almost the same thing, right?)

It’s funny to think back to that day, because it it planted a seed which has motivated me many times since. Not always, of course. Sometimes I still chicken out. But sometimes when anxiety refuses to release its stranglehold: a new relationship, a new job, a new adventure–I find myself thinking back to those wise words, and I realize that I will be okay, because I’m always okay.

And if Orson Scott Card is not your bent, a good friend of mine recently gave me a new mantra, one that she repeats to her daughter whenever she is scared worried. “You are BRAVE. You are STRONG. You are WONDERFUL. And YOU will be fine.” What better words could you ever need?

There are so many things I could have missed out on, if I gave into fear:

So do you embrace the future at full tilt? Or are you worry-wart* like me?

*(Officially diagnosed by my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Burton. Thanks for that.)

What gets you through the scary times?

And so begins my blog anew, retooled and with a new focus on things that make you lose your breath. Moments that make you stop and say to yourself, “Yes–this is what life is for!” And all that mundane stuff in between.

Renaissance means starting over, refresh, reboot. So it’s only fitting that it’s that time of year again: Renaissance Faire time! I know, technically it’s always that time of year somewhere, but here it happens throughout May. Sadly there has been so much rain that we have not yet dragged my nephew off to the land of jousts and turkey legs and the king’s roasted nuts, but there’s time yet.

Gentle readers, in the spirit of the Faire, I ask you: have you ever attended? Participated? Do you think it’s ridiculous? Do you go every weekend?What is your favorite part?

I have two favorite Faire memories–from the first I ever attended and from the last.

The first was in Deerfield Beach, Florida, and it was magical. My friends are crazy, and they love to make costumes. I call this crazy because I cannot sew and would never deliberately make myself an outfit that involves boning in any way. But they are amazing, talented individuals, and they love to dress up, so we all put on their incredible handmade costumes and went to the Ren Faire. The weather was perfect, the dill pickles were icy cold, and we stayed until the sun set over the lake at the edge of the Faire grounds. And as we took emotive pictures together against the pink-orange sky, an old drunkard came up and attempted to urinate in the lake. (That isn’t my favorite memory, by the way, that is just the fittingly inappropriate end to a lovely day at the Faire.)

The very last time I went to the Faire, I went with a different group of friends, including D. Some dressed up, and some did not. Once again I found myself in borrowed bits and pieces, because I like to immerse myself. D showed off his axe-throwing skills, and attempted to climb this tricky rope bridge, and I swooned appropriately. Then he got dragged up to dance (because there are never enough willing gentlemen) so of course I had to join him, and we shared our first dance. It rained and it poured, because apparently May is the rainiest month of the year in Tennessee, and we got soaked to the bone and ditched our friends to change clothes and watch movies all afternoon.

I would love to hear about some other favorite Ren Faire locations and memories, so be sure to leave a comment! Tell me what takes your breath away?

Vegas. Sin City. Glitter Gulch. What happens there stays there.

It’s not a place I ever really thought I’d go. Until I saw the Ocean’s 11 remake and fell in love with the Bellagio fountains, the city held no allure for me. I’m not one for bright lights or hard living. But a dear friend from Australia texted to say she’d be visiting Las Vegas this month, and so the hubs and I decided we could spare the time and money to meet up with her.

Herein lie my thoughts on the Second City That Never Sleeps:

I don’t know what I expected, but I had no idea what I was in for. I still don’t quite know what to make of the place. It’s such a microcosm of contrasts–and of what the American Dream has become. There is so much greed, so much excess, so much opulence–living side by side with more homelessness and desperation than I’ve encountered in any city before, and I’ve been to some big ones: New York, Chicago, Toronto, London, Sydney. Here people throw away money for fun, while just beyond the glittering doors, others sleep in the middle of the sidewalk and in elevators in broad daylight.

There was a time when the American Dream was the idea that anyone could become whatever he wanted, through hard work and dedication. Some would say that dream is dead. I say it’s still alive and well–I see it in many recent immigrants to our country–but for many it has been replaced by something else: quick riches and easy fame. The hard work aspect has been forgotten, and the allure of the Vegas Jackpot embodies the new American Dream: anyone can become rich and famous through very little effort, if they play their cards right. It was not the dream of our grandfathers, and I hope it will not be the dream of my grandchildren, and of course this is a generalization, but one has only to look at the vast number of reality programs on TV to realize that it’s true of many, many people throughout the world today. It draws some visitors to Vegas in droves. And of course there are those who merely go for the experience, to see what it’s all about, to drink and smoke and play, to have a good time.

I did not adequately anticipate the amount of smoking. As one should probably expect, it’s allowed throughout the casinos. Quite honestly, what isn’t allowed in Vegas? (except sitting on the floor, which is apparently strongly prohibited). I learned 3 things: 1) Cigarette smoke still bothers me as much as ever, but not as much as: 2) Cigar smoke, which is infinitely worse and initiates an almost immediate gag reflex, and yet: 3) Close proximity to marijuana is even worse. Yes, I escaped college without ever realizing just how strong and vomit-inducing the fumes can be. Sorry Colorado.

My Australian friend was quite surprised by the indoor smoking, as well as by the outdoor drinking. Not so much that people walked down the street or boarded the monorail drink in hand, but that they left their empty beverage containers–be they restaurant glasses, bottles, or gimmicky yard-long glasses–just any old place they pleased. In fact on my first outing to the Strip, while crossing a street, I stepped straight down onto a glass, just an actual drinking glass. The top had been broken, leaving a circle of jagged glass, and it was sitting on it’s bottom, so when I stepped straight down, glass wedged in my sneaker. I had to walk another mile or two before prying the glass out with a fork. Happily I was wearing sneakers and there are no hospital visits or stitches in this story. Considering some past adventures with D, I consider this a win.

And yet, despite all of this, I found that I rather liked Las Vegas. By and large the people were some of the nicest I’ve ever met. I am aware that servers make about $1.50/hour and live off their tips, but even so, they seemed genuinely nice, genuinely helpful. Not faking it for a tip, not at all crushed by a soul-sucking job. And this includes service staff that I wouldn’t think of tipping: hosts/hostesses, airport info “volunteers,” hotel check-in staff, casino concierges. Everyone was polite, friendly, helpful. Where I often find that service staff seem sick of tourists, in a city inundated with tourists I did not feel like an inconvenience. I could be wrong, but I believe to an extent it’s because these are not just jobs to these people. They are not biding their time–these are their careers, this industry is what the town is built on, and this is what makes it thrive. And other than the man whose job was to tell me I could not sit on the floor despite their being no bench to rest on while I waited for my friend, I appreciated every single one of them.

We didn’t gamble much. Before we went, the hubs and I discussed the fact that I should be very careful about gambling. I have a never-say-die attitude towards just about everything. Whether it’s fixing the wifi or getting glass out of my shoe, I just don’t believe I can’t do it, and I won’t stop until I do. That could be dangerous when large sums of money are involved. And D is the opposite. He doesn’t think he can win, so he doesn’t try for long. But we didn’t have much time to gamble anyway. I’m not one for poker, because I am a terrible liar. Blackjack isn’t really my game. And I’m not one for the slots because pushing a button bores me silly and the spinny parts make me dizzy. But I loved the Big Wheel, and the Wheel of Fortune slot gave me my biggest win, and despite gambling very little, I came out $26 ahead. Call it beginner’s luck. Or my lucky nail polish.

We were only there for the weekend, and we kept busy. We investigated, if briefly, many of the famous hotels along the strip. The Flamingo was a must, of course. And I was delighted to see their live Flamingo habitat, although I think it was far too cold for the poor birds to be out. The Paris was very unique, if chaotic, and the Venetian was beautiful. The inside of the Wynn was amazing, with these incredible flower bouquet balls that I was too astounded by to actually photograph. Saw the Mirage Volcano, and the city lit up at night from the Stratosphere observation deck. We even took a day tour to the Hoover Dam which was quite impressive and well worth the trip. (And–HIGHLIGHT!–We saw wild Mountain Goats!)

And, of course, the Bellagio Fountains were even more breath-taking than I could have imagined. Had it not been freezing outside, and the temperature quickly dropping, I probably would have wanted to stay and watch them over and over again.

For a place I never imagined I would go, we were sad leaving Las Vegas behind on Monday. At times tacky, at intervals surreal, and quite often beautiful–surrounded by a blanket of bold, hearty mountains–I now understand the draw, and I think it’s safe to say that some day we will return.

Tagged: American Dream, Gambling, inspiration, Las Vegas, Opulence, perseverance, Vacation

Every year it’s the same. I whine. I complain. I rail against the man.

I friggin’ hate daylight savings time. Going on it, coming off it–doesn’t matter. It messes with my schedule.

But this year I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m trying to beat the winter blues, trying to avoid my natural inclination to hibernate (although a colleague and I have come up with a delicious plan that involves feeding the “powers that be” to the lions after they bring us bon-bons which we will eat while lying on the settee, reading and watching Downton Abbey. Okay, I added the part about Downton Abbey, but I’m 100% certain my colleague will agree).

So this year was going to be different. I would go to bed at a reasonable time, and instead of getting up at my usual (of late) 5:30, I would get up at my preferred 5:00. But since it would really be 6:00 to my internal clock, it would not feel as horrible and would thus ease me back into the routine of getting up at 5:00–for the rest of the winter.

But Sunday came, and Sunday went, and I went to bed late not early (shock!), and I cannot get out of bed at 5:00. It just. Won’t. Happen.

So I’m giving you this one, Daylight Savings Time. You’ve bested me once again. And if I ever get elected to public office, my first act will still be to abolish your ridiculous practice–closely followed by all my other feelings: elector college reform, campaign finance reform, term limits for senators–oh who am I kidding? I’ll never run for public office. My poor little soul couldn’t take the trampling.

On the bright side, I’m sort of managing my anti-hibernation-league-attempts pretty well. I finished my novel (FINISHED!), which has basically made me feel that I’ve earned the right to hibernate all I like. So I’ve read 2 books, and started 2 others that I’m not totally sold on. The biggest problem is deciding what I want to read next.

It’s funny though. I thought that having a million anti-hibernation techniques would get me through the winter and help me keep writing. Turned out–well, maybe it was our lovely Indian summer and gorgeous but warm fall–or was it entering contests and writing writing writing that got me all excited and chased the winter blues away? Maybe that’s why NaNoWriMo is in the fall. Maybe everyone knew these secrets and I’m late to the game.

Either way, I’m going to go try to banish my headache and hope for good things as the election results roll in.

Just finished a revision, and I’m working like mad to enter the Hook, Line, and Sinker contest (see right). 

Here is something lovely to keep us all calm:

I just love it too much.

My husband says it’s because I’m a story person. I love stories.
That’s true. But I also have a problem. I get way too caught up in the lives of fictional people. (I make up stories for them in my head all week long).

You see, the greatest flaw in my great winterization scheme, the one to prevent me from hibernating, was that I didn’t throw out my TV.

I was writing really well this summer. But then came Rookie Blue. And I said, “That’s ok. When the summer is over, there won’t be any Rookie Blue, D will be in school, and I will go back to writing.”

There was a week off between Rookie Blue ending and the new season premieres. I watched Downton Abbey (season 2). I watched it to help me get over Rookie Blue. The flaw in that plan was that I remembered how much I loved Downton Abbey. I have now rewatched both seasons. That’s it. No more until January. Because I could easily watch it over and over and over. And never write again.

Because I love the stories.

And then there’s the regular lineup. Copper on Sundays, Castle on Mondays, New Girl on Tuesdays, Modern Family on Wednesdays, and the Thursday night comedies. But it has gotten to the point where I’m basically disappointed with a lot of the usual suspects (not necessarily those named above. Don’t jump to conclusions). Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m wasting my time not writing, so they better be worth it, darn it! But even shows that I love have kind of disappointed me thus far–not all of them–not entirely–but maybe things just don’t feel fresh anymore. And let’s face it, we’re only still watching The Office because we feel like we have to.

I don’t have time for obligatory TV watching. Not when there’s so much Downton Abbey to obsess over. And Rookie Blu-rays. And oh yeah, I’m supposed to be writing.

I got some feed back from my CPs this week, on what little writing I have done since summer vacation, and it was pretty positive. I found a great depth that I’m adding, and it was nice to see that they agreed that it fleshed things out well. It was the right choice. So tonight (after I watched Downton Abbey… and forced my husband to eat leftovers for dinner…) I sat myself down to write. And I wrote for 3 hours. And it was fabulous (except that my hand aches). And I realized how close to the end I am. Of course I still have to go back to the beginning, go through it again, add some things in, revise revise revise. But if I would just stop watching television and DO IT, it wouldn’t take that long.

So I’m sorry dear TV, but my DVR is going to fill up. Some things, I will probably quit watching altogether, because it will sit on the DVR until I just don’t care or until I have to delete it to make room for Downton Abbey (or until I have a sick day… but then… I could just watch Downton & RB…), but I guess admitting you have a problem is the first step. I LOVE TV. I love it too much. I watch it even when there’s nothing on to watch. And yes, I know that 30 Rock will be back soon, and so will Psych, and then it will be Christmas Movie season and don’t forget Downton in January. But if you love something, you have to let it go, right? Because if I’m loving other people’s characters so much that I’m wrapped up in their lives instead of the lives of my own characters night after night, then something is seriously wrong.

On the other hand, sometimes the things that you watch can be totally inspiring. I had an idea today that I’m extremely excited about, for my next project when WIP goes on submission, and it has fantastic potential. But I’ve got to actually finish WIP and get started with the research if it’s ever going to see the light of day.

And that means I need to shut off the TV and write.

It has been a very short two weeks! And during that time, I have done almost nothing on my check list. I think I got up early once. I think I went to bed early zero times. And it turns out, that is the key to everything.

But no excuses. All the plans in the world won’t do much good if you don’t follow through on them.

I did manage one thing besides yoga, which just reinforces the notion that I can either write or do everything else: I revised my screenplay. Some very positive and encouraging feedback led to a powerhouse revision session and now the script has been passed along to someone else, and I’m practicing the art of patience (and of holding my breath every time an email comes in).

Then there’s the novel. For some reason the ending doesn’t want to be revised. Even though I like the ending and it also desperately needs revision, what’s in my head is being very annoying about not wanting to leave my head for the page. It wants me to start over at the beginning. But it’s not going to win. I’ll get it down eventually. I’m excited to go back to the beginning again, but I refuse to do it until I get through the end.

I cheated last night by sitting down to revise and getting frustrated. Finally, instead of rewriting a scene that I knew I should rewrite, I took the scene out altogether and sent the rest to my crit partners. It’s cheating because I ought not move forward without that scene or I’ll just be back where I started the next go-round, but their response to receiving pages after such a long hiatus has already provided some of the desired motivation. Moral of the story: cheating worked.

And then I watched Mad Men and Arrested Development and actually went to bed early! And you know what else? I got up early and wrote this blog.

So maybe, like my dear Minerva the peace lily, maybe I’m starting to get back on track!

Gotta go make a grocery list. Have a lovely week and be well.

Yes it’s still technically blazing hot summer, but it’s never too early to start. The ant and the grasshopper, right?

So here is where I stand:

1. Yoga: enrolled and attended 1st class. Teacher is very accommodating of my spinal limitations. Once a week for now.
2. Early to Bed: 3.5 for 7. Needs improvement.
3. Early to Rise: 4 for 7. It’s amazing how much you can get done in half an hour! I have twice folded laundry, cleaned off the kitchen table, written (but not edited) this blog post!
4. Recipes: Peanut Chicken Lo Mein, Ham & Asparagus Frittata, Chicken and Artichoke Pasta. Mostly quick and all quite delicious.
5. Crockpot Weekend: did not happen last weekend, but this Saturday Osso Bucco Milanese is planned, provided I can find beef shanks on my second attempt.
6. Cozy House: no Rookie Blue last week, so bedroom received impromptu cleaning. Front door is mostly painted. I don’t recommend extra high gloss, but if you ever can’t get oil based paint off your hands, I have 2 words for you: vegetable oil. Harry Potter level magic.
7. Sunshine: Not really an issue yet, as it’s August. Have discovered that it can be quite lovely (all be it warm in the summer) to open the blinds in the house. Who’d'a thought?
8. Plants: repotted and named my poor old miraculously half alive African Violet, and we added 4 plants off the NASA list to the household. Slightly concerned about their survival chances post-repotting.

Writing: attended a fantastic query webinar. Discovered I lost sight of my inciting incident somewhere along the way. Oops. Found it. Received inspiration and formed new plan of attack with crit partner. Excited again.

Happy Wednesday!

This one goes out to my dad who said, “Sounds like there’s a blog post in that,” during our dinner conversation last Sunday.

Last year I had the best of intentions. I finished up grad school in August and fully intended to have my manuscript agent-ready by the end of the year. 2012 was going to be the year of agent searching. Of course as anyone who’s ever revised can probably tell you, the more you do, the more you realize there is yet to do. But that is neither here nor there, because when the days got longer and darker and colder, I surrendered to my inclination to hibernate, and I don’t think I wrote again until April.

Yes, I had some good excuses: round 1 of gum surgery, a death in the family, a trip to Hogwarts, interviews for a new job, starting the new job, traveling for the new job…

But the point is this: I can feel it coming. School buses are back on the roads and the days are getting shorter. It’s already dark too early in the evening, and it’s already dark when I wake up for work. It’s still hot as heck most afternoons, but I already want to come home from work, climb into my PJs, and hibernate on the couch until spring. And it’s not even autumn yet.

So I’m putting a plan in motion to keep the wintertime blues at bay. Call it my new-semester resolutions, if you will. Also, my progress will give me something to blog about.

1. Enroll in a yoga class one night a week. I hate to exercise, and I never do it. And I’m lousy at yoga videos because I don’t know if I’m doing them right. Since I have adamantium rods in my back (what, you didn’t know I’m part Wolverjean?) it seems prudent to get some instruction. And, bonus, if I’m paying for it, I’ll actually go.
2. Go to bed earlier. I don’t think I need to explain the fact that I ALWAYS get too little sleep. Even on the weekends–no more staying up until 1 or 2 AM doing nothing. I’m going to bed close to my weeknight bedtime so that I can actually get stuff done on Saturday and fall asleep on Sunday.
3. Get up earlier. We are routinely pressed for time in the morning. Partly because I keep getting up later and later. In the winter it will be worse because you have more layers of clothes to wear and someone has to remember to defrost the car. I thought about getting up early to exercise, but I know that won’t happen. I also know that I only have a 30 minute window to work with because I refuse to acknowledge an hour of the day that begins with 4. I plan to use the extra time to straighten up around the place. Oddly enough, while exercise will not get me out of bed, for some reason cleaning tends to work pretty well. I’m even going to start making the bed again. Because a tidy house does a LOT to chase away the winter blues.
4. Quick healthy recipes. I’m head-over-heels in love with Cooking Light’s 20 minute recipes. They’re all online, and so far they have been pretty quick and very tasty. The bacon mac ‘n cheese was nothing short of fabulous! Something new, and the promise of something fast, because I’m just not going to try to deal with long and complicated this winter.
5. Crockpot weekends. Because the most tasty crockpot meals are pretty long and involve pre-cooking, they will be reserved for weekends. And I’m going to start early and freeze stuff so that we will have lots of options.
6. Winterize the house. Get my ducks in a row. Make things cozy. Married 2 years, we still don’t have curtains up in the bedroom. (We have blinds, just no curtains.) The hall closet is a disaster area. (Things literally fall on you when you are looking for first aid supplies.) So I’ve a few things to organize, give the place a good scrub, paint the front door, and when it gets cold we’ll be snug as a bug AND tidy.
7. Sunshine. I often take an afternoon walk at work, but once it’s bitterly cold this is hard to do. So this year I have to go out of my way. I have to MAKE it happen. Even if it means not walking, just finding a sunny spot out of the wind and standing there. But cats have it right: daily sunshine is a must. (And so is afternoon exercise, in the sun or out of it.)
8. Plants. Husband and I do not have green thumbs. We have killed a lot of plants together and apart. But I’m willing to try again, because I think if we manage to keep a few house plants going this winter it will do a lot for the feng shui. What is more anti-winter than living plants? Maybe if we name them they won’t die… we managed to keep our nephew’s fish Cookie alive when we pet sat.

All that leaves is the writing. Obviously that’s one of the most important parts. But the beauty of my plan (I hope) is that with a few minutes to straighten up in the morning, and getting more sleep and exercise, I actually think I might have the energy and the time and the inclination to keep going with this revision. It’s all obvious stuff, sure, but it’s things you can forget. Things that can get lost in a slippery-slope type of way when all you want to do is curl up on the couch and watch How I Met Your Mother reruns and shotgun TimTams.

It helps that my husband and I mostly watch the same shows, which means that we will be watching most of them by DVR on the weekends because of his school schedule. More time to write!

I’ve given up setting a deadline for when it will be done, though. That just makes me disappointed when it’s not. Right now it needs to be the best that it can be, and I don’t know how long that will take. It can’t be rushed. It will take how long it takes. Instead of setting a deadline, I’m going to plan to get back to where I was this summer: writing every day.

Writing because I would rather write than do anything else.

First it was mayhem: The Great Ant Invasion, culminating in ants pouring from a kitchen electrical socket, resulting in a non-functioning garbage disposal. (They actually ate through the wire).

And then my car wouldn’t start.
And then the toilet broke.
And then I got braces. Again. (3 Day Headache)

Oh the joys of home and auto and TMJ ownership.

But the real reason it’s been so long is this:

I will try my best not to let that happen with his blog. In fact, I have great hopes that it will keep the fire lit when winter comes and I would rather just hibernate on the couch with Netflix and Newman-O’s.

My revision is going very well. Historically, revision was not an activity that I particularly enjoyed. But then, I don’t think I knew what I was doing. This particular go-round, however, has been exhilarating, made even better by my delightful new critique partners. Now I’m not only enjoying the process, but although I’m 3/4 through the manuscript, I’m already looking forward to going back to the beginning again. The feedback has been that inspiring.

And by the way, dear writers, get used to the fact that you’re now seen as an authority, or you soon will be. Get used to the fact that people assume you have some magic knowledge that in reality you wish you had. Everyone has a story to tell. Everyone believes that their story is worth telling, and until someone tries to write a book, they don’t realize how ridiculously hard it is. Get used to the fact that they will ask you to look at their work. It’s no different than when you go to your friend the computer whiz looking for help with your mysterious computer problem. It’s no different than when you call up your relative the plumber to ask for suggestions for your broken toilet or clogged up drain. Everyone does it. It’s called networking. They’re not looking for a handout, they just want to tell their story as well as you tell yours. If you enjoy any amount of success, this will undoubtedly happen. Sometimes it might be awkward for you, but it’s your choice how to respond. This isn’t directed at anyone who has ever asked me to read anything for them, nor is it directed at anyone I’ve ever asked to read anything of mine. It’s directed at an article I read yesterday, and that’s really all I have to say on the subject.

Now to be completely random: when you’re feeling overwhelmed by life or work or your revision, look for joy anywhere you can find it.

Things that made me happy today:

• The chocolate cookie crumbs that ended up in my car seat after a work meeting didn’t melt into the fabric or stain my khakis
• Chocolate cookies
• The uncharacteristic moment when I ironed my shirt this morning, perfect for the unexpected meeting at work
• Receiving galley prints for other people’s new books!
• NO CAVITIES
• Rainier cherries
• Terminix
• Salad (but not kale)
• The moment when all the traffic turned off the road so I could finally drive the speed limit
• Discovering that if you say the name of a punctuation mark, Siri puts the mark, which makes run-on notes much easier to interpret later [period]

Also, I pretty much wrote this entire blog by giving notes to Siri in the car while I sat in traffic.

Today I’d like to write about another topic that is near and dear to my heart: oral hygiene. By the way you know those words that you can just never seem to spell correctly? Hygiene is a word that I have refused to learn to spell since middle school because of its unfortunate similar sound to my own name.

What does this have to do with writing? Nothing. Except that if you practice good oral hygiene you might lengthen your lifespan, so say the @SklarBrothers

I’ll admit it: until recently I rarely flossed. Only if something was really stuck in my teeth or I was going to the dentist the next day and didn’t want to bleed and give away that I was too lazy to floss. Now that I’m obsessed with flossing, I don’t know how I ever wasn’t before. Also the Sklar Bros say you can add years to your life just by flossing!

I’ve had a lot going on with my craniofacial area the last year and a half. TMJ treatment, 2 gum surgeries, and soon I will be getting braces (again). I don’t think any of this is due to not flossing, but it has certainly sparked my love for the activity.

I also have strong opinions on mouthwash. This is a necessity. We switched off of regular Listerine to the alcohol free. I do not recommend. Nor can I recommend Crest Pro-Health, at least not the kind we tried. Neither of them kept my mouth as clean as regular Listerine, in addition to other problems. So we’re back to the old tried and true.

Today I got my (hopefully) last round of stitches out! Huzzah! In just a few days I’ll be able to chew on both sides of my mouth again.

Now that we’ve covered that, other words I cannot spell: apology (I think it needs 2 p’s), cemetery (I believe it longs for an a), embarrass (really it has too many r’s and sometimes too few b’s), guarantee (honestly I don’t even know where to start), harass (It wants the extra r from embarrass).

The ones I’ve finally learned to spell after many years of practice? Medieval (lots of college lit classes), independent (10th grade bio teacher), restaurant (my mother). And of course I will never misspell lightning or irreparable after losing separate spelling bees on them.

What words do you have trouble with? Thank heavens for spell check!