K, so I decided that I seriously need to stop making excuses about not writing on my blog during school. I mean honestly, what other time of year do I write more? Or learn more about my craft? Do not all writing books suggest that writing at least ten minutes everyday will help any writer improve their craft? Is not a blog the epitome of puke on a page (a.k.a. practice writing)?
That's what I thought.
But you can't really blame me for being a little scatter brained. It's hard enough for me to concentrate on homework, much less blog time when I'm at school. I can barely concentrate on story writing to the point where it actually get's written down somewhere.
Once school is over my self diagnosed ADD gets even worse.
For example, today I made several goals which include but are not limited too: writing, sewing, knitting, shopping, cross-stitching, painting, drawing, hiking, planning, making workout flash cards, getting a job, cleaning the house-basement-kitchen-yard(not necessarily in that order), read, practice martial arts katas, study scriptures-anatomy-athletics-creative-writing-and-other-random-topics-that-I-find-interesting, calling my sister about her kids (glad I didn't get to that one since she's now past her due date and ready to shoot the next person who asks her about when her babies are coming out), study up on all kinds of folklore for the rewrite of Midnight Manor, and complete my 1500 piece new puzzle for the second time this year. It took me two months to finish it the first time and that was with help.
See, I'm full of plans and have time for little else. Most of the beginning of the list happened because I went to the fabric stores with my mother today. I'm hoping that it'll wear off in about a week or so.
Note to self, look up that cute blouse dress in that one sewing magazine and make a miniature for doll to see how it really looks.
In the mean time I've invented this.
The Creative Writers Guide to Combat ADD
1. Make a plan that includes writing. I drew up a schedule that includes a list of hours and what I plan on doing when. I have a whole hour set aside for just writing in the morning. It really makes the rest of my day.
2. Make sure the time you pick will involve no other distractions, set an alarm and let yourself drift into writers mode that feels so much like a cat-nap.
3. Play music. I find that music keeps my (Didn't I have something that needed to get done) thoughts preoccupied and otherwise sets the mood for a scene I'm writing.
4. Close the door. No distractions means no distractions. Face a white wall if you have too. Focus.
Coming Soon
Creative Writing lessons I've learned this year from one of the best Professors I know.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Writing Advise
One of the advice tips in "The Art of War for Writers" is to practice, practice, practice. Practice writing all time, every single day, especially practice writing things you don't feel presured to make "publish perfect."
That was part of the reason why I started this blog. And now that it is a personal blog that is mostly safe from the world (nothing online is truly 'safe')I think I'll use this as my base of operations. I'm a better type-writer than pen-writer anyway.
Lately, a story has been floating around in my brain. It's based in series that I love so I can't ever really write it, but I could still use it for practice.
Probably another time though, since it is late and I'm really tired.
Midnight Manor update. The third revision is done and set out to some trusted friends for review. A little nervous, but I've riding this horse before. He's stubborn and hard to stay on, but enjoyable once you get used to him. Another writing tip book that I'm reading suggested that I join everything from writing clubs, to coffee shops that allow for novices to read their work out loud. I already have support groups in my Creative Writing classes, my job, and my brother-in-law (bless his heart.) Group sessions, I can understand, writing support persons, I can understand even more, but reading out loud to strangers in coffee shops?
Scary.
This same book also suggest that maybe three revisions isn't good enough. But as someone who has finished novels in the past, I know that if I keep working on a story it will just keep morphing into new story after story and the revisions, additions, and cuts will never end. At some point, someone has to say stop. Print. Send. This is what my peer review is for, to see if my book is ready for that kind of attention.
Even if its not I think I'm going to try it. Just to get the rejection letter and feel like I'm at least trying to enter the writing realm. Seriously, some of these help books are making me more nervous than I already am. I'm a bit of a worry wart as it is.
What happens, happens. That's all I can say about it.
That was part of the reason why I started this blog. And now that it is a personal blog that is mostly safe from the world (nothing online is truly 'safe')I think I'll use this as my base of operations. I'm a better type-writer than pen-writer anyway.
Lately, a story has been floating around in my brain. It's based in series that I love so I can't ever really write it, but I could still use it for practice.
Probably another time though, since it is late and I'm really tired.
Midnight Manor update. The third revision is done and set out to some trusted friends for review. A little nervous, but I've riding this horse before. He's stubborn and hard to stay on, but enjoyable once you get used to him. Another writing tip book that I'm reading suggested that I join everything from writing clubs, to coffee shops that allow for novices to read their work out loud. I already have support groups in my Creative Writing classes, my job, and my brother-in-law (bless his heart.) Group sessions, I can understand, writing support persons, I can understand even more, but reading out loud to strangers in coffee shops?
Scary.
This same book also suggest that maybe three revisions isn't good enough. But as someone who has finished novels in the past, I know that if I keep working on a story it will just keep morphing into new story after story and the revisions, additions, and cuts will never end. At some point, someone has to say stop. Print. Send. This is what my peer review is for, to see if my book is ready for that kind of attention.
Even if its not I think I'm going to try it. Just to get the rejection letter and feel like I'm at least trying to enter the writing realm. Seriously, some of these help books are making me more nervous than I already am. I'm a bit of a worry wart as it is.
What happens, happens. That's all I can say about it.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Back to the Basics
I may be back in school and I may be taking one of the most time consuming classes of my life (Human Anatomy and Physiology) but that doesn't mean that I don't have time for the occasional spark of inspiration every now and then. One of my English classes "Themes in Literature" has already proven to be an experience. At first I hated it. The lines in which my thinking for the class so far differed from my science class that the body and soul rebelled from the whip lash. And yet I trusted my teacher and when it came time to do his assignments I let go...and that's when the class became worth it. It became more of a learning process rather than a swallow and regurgitate session.
Lately, my creative buzz has been going like crazy and I came up with this poem in just under five minutes. I call it "Congress" but I think the end result is open to multiple interpretations.
Empty mouths go up and down
Meanwhile, the hidden snake goes round
good men's feet and binds them fast
cowards faces turn to ash.
Round and round it turns
men watch as standards burn.
Throttling slowly, only death awaits
for those who do not beware the snake.
If good men struggle the coils will choke
to silence them beneath black cloaks
All the while fires appear
in the eyes of men the cowards fear.
Gleefully the snake winds tight
Waiting to make the lethal bite.
Ancient stewards struggle in graves
but no longer are they the ones who save
Only babes in dream like sleeps
can stop the venom within the keep.
For truth alone shines in their eyes
reflected from angels in the sky
who shout warning to those below
who do not fear the scriptures woe
"Fear God," it says, and not the snake.
For God alone can your life make
and take it again, should ye falter
from the Father's Holy Alter.
Lately, my creative buzz has been going like crazy and I came up with this poem in just under five minutes. I call it "Congress" but I think the end result is open to multiple interpretations.
Empty mouths go up and down
Meanwhile, the hidden snake goes round
good men's feet and binds them fast
cowards faces turn to ash.
Round and round it turns
men watch as standards burn.
Throttling slowly, only death awaits
for those who do not beware the snake.
If good men struggle the coils will choke
to silence them beneath black cloaks
All the while fires appear
in the eyes of men the cowards fear.
Gleefully the snake winds tight
Waiting to make the lethal bite.
Ancient stewards struggle in graves
but no longer are they the ones who save
Only babes in dream like sleeps
can stop the venom within the keep.
For truth alone shines in their eyes
reflected from angels in the sky
who shout warning to those below
who do not fear the scriptures woe
"Fear God," it says, and not the snake.
For God alone can your life make
and take it again, should ye falter
from the Father's Holy Alter.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Study in English Folklore
Midnight Manor takes place in a world where monsters and legends exist as part of our world but separated by secrecy. So far I've gotten by using basic generic monsters and a few hodge-podge creations of my own from stuff I already knew, but learning more legend and lore wouldn't hurt anything either. I've already thought of a good line, "You know those old wives tales? Those are our history books." And if that's true and since the main bad guy is a creature of legend and history I should have a good idea of other legends and history of the area I'm trying to represent.
So my focus lately has been English, Scottish, Irish, and Greek folklore and legends. But mostly Scottish since that's where the Academy is. I think it would be good to bring in more history and legends into the book to add texture to the culture of the monsters.
So far I've only been able to study English, but they have some really good ones. I'll share my favorite for today. I got it from "English Folktales" edited by Dan Keding and Amy Douglas who went all over England and composed these old oral stories into a book. This is my retelling of one of those stories.
The Old Woman Who Lived in a Vinegar Bottle
Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a vinegar bottle. One day a fairy heard the woman bemoaning her lot in the world so she took pity and granted the woman her wish to have a cottage. The woman, so glad to have her own cottage, forgot to thank the fairy.
The fairy liked to travel and every now and then would stop by to see how the old woman was doing. However; every time the fairy came back it was only to hear the old woman complain about how she still didn't have enough and how happy she would be if only she had a little bit more. The fairy kept granting the thankless woman her wishes to have more and more property and even noble titles until finally she was the queen of a whole country. But it still wasn't enough!
The woman, now so full of pride and entitlement, couldn't see why she should have to look up to or answer to anybody, even other countries. After all her country was so small, why shouldn't it be the biggest country in the world? So the next time the fairy came by and the woman whined that she'd be happy only if she became the empress of the world. The fairy, finally fed up with the old woman’s ungrateful attitude, stuck the woman back into her vinegar bottle where she belonged.
A very good story. I highly recommend getting in touch with the storytellers roots in the old oral traditions. They hold the answers to why we human believe many things and act in many ways. Haven't you ever wondered where the phrase "Knock on wood" came from? You should look it up. Then you'll know why we do it whenever anyone doesn't want to be jinxed.
So my focus lately has been English, Scottish, Irish, and Greek folklore and legends. But mostly Scottish since that's where the Academy is. I think it would be good to bring in more history and legends into the book to add texture to the culture of the monsters.
So far I've only been able to study English, but they have some really good ones. I'll share my favorite for today. I got it from "English Folktales" edited by Dan Keding and Amy Douglas who went all over England and composed these old oral stories into a book. This is my retelling of one of those stories.
The Old Woman Who Lived in a Vinegar Bottle
Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived in a vinegar bottle. One day a fairy heard the woman bemoaning her lot in the world so she took pity and granted the woman her wish to have a cottage. The woman, so glad to have her own cottage, forgot to thank the fairy.
The fairy liked to travel and every now and then would stop by to see how the old woman was doing. However; every time the fairy came back it was only to hear the old woman complain about how she still didn't have enough and how happy she would be if only she had a little bit more. The fairy kept granting the thankless woman her wishes to have more and more property and even noble titles until finally she was the queen of a whole country. But it still wasn't enough!
The woman, now so full of pride and entitlement, couldn't see why she should have to look up to or answer to anybody, even other countries. After all her country was so small, why shouldn't it be the biggest country in the world? So the next time the fairy came by and the woman whined that she'd be happy only if she became the empress of the world. The fairy, finally fed up with the old woman’s ungrateful attitude, stuck the woman back into her vinegar bottle where she belonged.
A very good story. I highly recommend getting in touch with the storytellers roots in the old oral traditions. They hold the answers to why we human believe many things and act in many ways. Haven't you ever wondered where the phrase "Knock on wood" came from? You should look it up. Then you'll know why we do it whenever anyone doesn't want to be jinxed.
Timing is key
So I'm having a really really hard time FINDING time before I go back to school to finish everything I want to. I still have books from the library I need to review and return, a manuscript to finish rewriting, and oodles of packing to do by Saturday when I go back to good old BYU.
Midnight Manor Update. I've finished going over my hard copy print outs. It needs some new funny scenes here and there to help balance it out and a bit of rewording here and there and I need to completely redo the ending, but other than that it's going along great. I have my characters established and a good idea of what I want the finished product to feel like. I need to get to know my characters a little better. But that's a project I could easily save for when I'm at school and have an odd free evening or two.
The books I'm using for research now include many mythological books and some philosophical ones, Confucius, Socrates, and Plato hello, and one fun book that I finished yesterday called, "The Desert of Souls," by Howard Andrew Jones. Very excellently crafted book and reminiscent of the the Arabian Nights. (Another book I need to finish.) I loved the story, there was intrigue, forbidden romance, sorcerous powers, and best of all a heavy dose of action/swashbuckling adventure. My favorite kind of book. Another serious with many of the same qualities is the Obsidian Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey. Also highly recommended, but if your of a more sensitive nature you probably should skip the demon parts. Trust me, you don't miss any crucial plot points there, just a lot of sensual and disturbing images you don't want to revisit. But hey, they're demons, what did you expect?
One thing that struck me about the "Desert" book was the simplicity of the language and the setting descriptions. It made me think that maybe I have TOO MUCH in Midnight Manor as far as words go. That's actually on my to do list once I am positive I have all the scenes. I'm going to go through and cut things back to the bare essentials and then build the book back up again into a mostly perfect form. That's the idea anyway. I also liked that the book was written in first person like my book so that inspiration will be very helpful. I'm been struggling with first person because my natural point of view is third person. But Midnight Manor really would work best in first so what can you do?
These have been the further ramblings of a first time novelist.
Midnight Manor Update. I've finished going over my hard copy print outs. It needs some new funny scenes here and there to help balance it out and a bit of rewording here and there and I need to completely redo the ending, but other than that it's going along great. I have my characters established and a good idea of what I want the finished product to feel like. I need to get to know my characters a little better. But that's a project I could easily save for when I'm at school and have an odd free evening or two.
The books I'm using for research now include many mythological books and some philosophical ones, Confucius, Socrates, and Plato hello, and one fun book that I finished yesterday called, "The Desert of Souls," by Howard Andrew Jones. Very excellently crafted book and reminiscent of the the Arabian Nights. (Another book I need to finish.) I loved the story, there was intrigue, forbidden romance, sorcerous powers, and best of all a heavy dose of action/swashbuckling adventure. My favorite kind of book. Another serious with many of the same qualities is the Obsidian Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey. Also highly recommended, but if your of a more sensitive nature you probably should skip the demon parts. Trust me, you don't miss any crucial plot points there, just a lot of sensual and disturbing images you don't want to revisit. But hey, they're demons, what did you expect?
One thing that struck me about the "Desert" book was the simplicity of the language and the setting descriptions. It made me think that maybe I have TOO MUCH in Midnight Manor as far as words go. That's actually on my to do list once I am positive I have all the scenes. I'm going to go through and cut things back to the bare essentials and then build the book back up again into a mostly perfect form. That's the idea anyway. I also liked that the book was written in first person like my book so that inspiration will be very helpful. I'm been struggling with first person because my natural point of view is third person. But Midnight Manor really would work best in first so what can you do?
These have been the further ramblings of a first time novelist.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
A Writers Weekend Joys and Weekday Woes
First the woes so we can get it over with already.
My poor computer caught a virus....a BAD one. And just before I was going to back up my freshly finished first draft of Midnight Manor too. So I spent the week on pins and needles waiting for the Geek Squad to call me and tell me that my baby was o.k.
Ok, now the good news. On Friday my mom told be about a group of writers, lead by a co-worker that was getting together to write some prompts in a writing marathon. I went and it was a blast! The whole thing stretched over two days and we wrote in about three different places. I give credit to my creative writing class for helping me to get more confident about my work. We first met at Zulu's, a new bagel shop, and while eating trays of cheese and fruit we wrote based on prompts and shared them. No one was allowed to make official critiques good or bad, but when someone laughed or smiled you knew you had something good!
I kept getting complimented by the senior guy in our group. He used to work for this group called "Writing Project" something or other. When I told him about my stuff and what I wanted to do he told me that the Writing Project would probably give me a grant to publish something. Yeah, that felt good.
Everything I wrote in the Marathon had a journalistic ring too it. Here are my three favorites.
1.) (prompt: using a place you have visited describe what happens after murdering your best friend without using thoughts or emotions. I used Angels Landing in Zion's National Park.)
It's strange how you can be so high up, and yet one false step can plunge you to the bottom. I stand where angels have stood. I should take that single step that would take me straight to the bottom. My very breath desecrates this holy ground. Time to try and fly. Though everyone knows that sinners can't fly. That's alright. I'll probably puncture straight through the earth and meet the devil himself soon. How long? At most, 20 seconds. That's justice I suppose. It took twice that long for her to die. Once I step forward, there's no stepping back. No chance for regret. It's silent and lonely up here. Time to join the demons downstairs.
2.) (prompt: we first followed directions to draw a picture. I used a blue crayon and followed the instruction like "draw a straight line to a corner," "write the persons name who you last talked to in the circle." In the end, my picture looked like an artistic boat. I wish I was more tech savy, then I could post it, but you're just going to have to trust me that it did look like a boat. Then we were supposed to write about it.)
I like my boat. My boat can hold the moon. On the main mast the vessel declares itself as "Becky." The captain's cabin is dark as this boast drifts through the sky. It's mast lays across the deck unused. Mice pilot this boat. I guess that's why they wanted the moon. The cheese would provide enough food for the journey across the sky. I hope they bring me back some cake. Enough to fill the whole curved hull. A fly flies from the cabin to the top of the mast. The only one awake on this ship of rodents. He expertly dodges a tangled rope of words to reach his destination. All is quiet on board the ship that sails through the blue night.
3.) (prompt: we had to come up with a list of things in nature, things we used everyday, and words we liked, then we had to put a few together and write a story about it. My words were 'brush chairs scrupulously,' 'flowered towels have moxie,' and 'rock doors are degenerative.')
Living underground is hard work! No one appreciates the time and effort needed to open the crumbling stone doors alone. Dust is a constant problem. Not to mention the worms. I have to scrupulously brush the chairs at least once every hour and twice before company calls. It is dark in the underground. In wintertime it is especially depressing, but at least it's warmer than a tree-house. I try to brighten every room with colorful pastels and light woods. Even the bathrooms have festive flowered towels hanging on the walls. Mrs. Peanuckle complimented me on them last Tuesday. I think I'll keep them for at least a month before changing them out again. She says I decorate my modest home with artful moxie. What could I do but blush and reply that spring would outdo even my best efforts? I hope that spring comes soon. The colors of the flowers always turn the roof of my house into an exquisite shade of red.
During the second day Best Buy called to let me know that my baby was ready to come home! So excited to work with the first draft, especially now that I feel like I have an 'in.' The best way to get into the publishing world is to "know people." I've already printed it off so I can do some real checking and cross-checking. Wish me luck!!
My poor computer caught a virus....a BAD one. And just before I was going to back up my freshly finished first draft of Midnight Manor too. So I spent the week on pins and needles waiting for the Geek Squad to call me and tell me that my baby was o.k.
Ok, now the good news. On Friday my mom told be about a group of writers, lead by a co-worker that was getting together to write some prompts in a writing marathon. I went and it was a blast! The whole thing stretched over two days and we wrote in about three different places. I give credit to my creative writing class for helping me to get more confident about my work. We first met at Zulu's, a new bagel shop, and while eating trays of cheese and fruit we wrote based on prompts and shared them. No one was allowed to make official critiques good or bad, but when someone laughed or smiled you knew you had something good!
I kept getting complimented by the senior guy in our group. He used to work for this group called "Writing Project" something or other. When I told him about my stuff and what I wanted to do he told me that the Writing Project would probably give me a grant to publish something. Yeah, that felt good.
Everything I wrote in the Marathon had a journalistic ring too it. Here are my three favorites.
1.) (prompt: using a place you have visited describe what happens after murdering your best friend without using thoughts or emotions. I used Angels Landing in Zion's National Park.)
It's strange how you can be so high up, and yet one false step can plunge you to the bottom. I stand where angels have stood. I should take that single step that would take me straight to the bottom. My very breath desecrates this holy ground. Time to try and fly. Though everyone knows that sinners can't fly. That's alright. I'll probably puncture straight through the earth and meet the devil himself soon. How long? At most, 20 seconds. That's justice I suppose. It took twice that long for her to die. Once I step forward, there's no stepping back. No chance for regret. It's silent and lonely up here. Time to join the demons downstairs.
2.) (prompt: we first followed directions to draw a picture. I used a blue crayon and followed the instruction like "draw a straight line to a corner," "write the persons name who you last talked to in the circle." In the end, my picture looked like an artistic boat. I wish I was more tech savy, then I could post it, but you're just going to have to trust me that it did look like a boat. Then we were supposed to write about it.)
I like my boat. My boat can hold the moon. On the main mast the vessel declares itself as "Becky." The captain's cabin is dark as this boast drifts through the sky. It's mast lays across the deck unused. Mice pilot this boat. I guess that's why they wanted the moon. The cheese would provide enough food for the journey across the sky. I hope they bring me back some cake. Enough to fill the whole curved hull. A fly flies from the cabin to the top of the mast. The only one awake on this ship of rodents. He expertly dodges a tangled rope of words to reach his destination. All is quiet on board the ship that sails through the blue night.
3.) (prompt: we had to come up with a list of things in nature, things we used everyday, and words we liked, then we had to put a few together and write a story about it. My words were 'brush chairs scrupulously,' 'flowered towels have moxie,' and 'rock doors are degenerative.')
Living underground is hard work! No one appreciates the time and effort needed to open the crumbling stone doors alone. Dust is a constant problem. Not to mention the worms. I have to scrupulously brush the chairs at least once every hour and twice before company calls. It is dark in the underground. In wintertime it is especially depressing, but at least it's warmer than a tree-house. I try to brighten every room with colorful pastels and light woods. Even the bathrooms have festive flowered towels hanging on the walls. Mrs. Peanuckle complimented me on them last Tuesday. I think I'll keep them for at least a month before changing them out again. She says I decorate my modest home with artful moxie. What could I do but blush and reply that spring would outdo even my best efforts? I hope that spring comes soon. The colors of the flowers always turn the roof of my house into an exquisite shade of red.
During the second day Best Buy called to let me know that my baby was ready to come home! So excited to work with the first draft, especially now that I feel like I have an 'in.' The best way to get into the publishing world is to "know people." I've already printed it off so I can do some real checking and cross-checking. Wish me luck!!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
A Study in Humor
(Stay tuned for an attempt at comedy that will probably only be funny to one person in the entire world, but one is enough. Thanks for the support mom. :)
So one of the things I've been doing to become a better writer is making a study of different types of entertainments. There's: horror, humor, love, adventure, paranormal, literary and pretty much any other subject that happens to interest me at any one time in my ADOLS life. (ADOLS: Attention Deficit Oh Look Shiny!)
Lately, my study has shifted from horror/paranormal/scare fair to humor. Mainly because my current manuscript is really depressing and my nature is humorous so I want to infuse some of that into the book.
My subject of choice?
Bill Cosby
Hello, is there anyone else nearly as funny who doesn't cheapen their acts with sex, drugs, and alcohol all padded with a covering of swear words? His humor is the kind I understand because it doesn't depress me at the same time with negativity but makes fun of real life just the same. I'm not saying Bill Cosby never had any of those things in his acts, he just presented them with more class than most comedics today with the possible exception of Gabriel Inglesias, but even he's still a step or too down from Cosby.
Actually, I would probably put Brian Regan up there with Bill Cosby because he can be funny without using any of those cheap fall backs. You know you've got some high class comedy when they can make you nearly pee your pants without using anything crude. I mean the guy had me rolling on the floor with his walkie talkie gag. Who laughs about walky talkies? Oh, just the guys who've never heard of the "wammy cablamy," or the "rooty tooty aim and shooty."
I've been thinking about comedy so much that I think I've gone a bit nuts. Last night I couldn't go to bed because I was too busy writing my own comedic skit in my brain. My brain went everywhere from car rides with my dad to college roommates to Alma's Pizza because it baked not broiled like the other guys! Unfortunately only my family members would get that last one and that's ok they're probably the only ones that ever read it. Sarcasm is great.
Ok, just because I have time I'll tell one of the skits I made up.
Here we go.
I had a roommate my freshman year. I'd already been to school before so I felt like I kinda knew the territory and I was excited to meet my next batch of roommies. My mom and I walk in the door and there are my three new roommates standing in the kitchen. I said, "Hi! My name is C and I'm your new roommate."....you could hear the crickets in California. They gave me this sweeping glance that girls do when they're checking to see if you're prettier than them, you know that comparing wrinkled nose glance that makes you go, "What? Did I step in something stinky again?" Yep, I'd obviously missed the bonding party. But I was still optimistic because I thought that since we'd be stuck in this little apartment together for three months somethings bound to click sometime.
Yeah, I was pretty naive. I grew up rather shelter, I didn't realize just how two faced girls could really be because I was brought up to be straight forward and obvious, also known as HONEST, not devious. I had been living in this little shoe box of an apartment for three days when one of the girls decided she would die if she did not call a roommate meeting. You know, those meetings where you sit and talk and try to resolve problems in a civilized manner. Girls are the only ones who do these meetings guys don't do these meetings guys just punch it out and that's it, girls....we have to "discuss things" to make ourselves feel better.
So we had this meeting because this girl had also established herself as the strongest personality in the apartment. Just like guys follow the lead of whoever can beat the snot out of everyone else, girls follow the lead of whoever can bind the most people to her will....yes, girls are scary creatures. I know I am one.
She said, "O.k." like a cheerleader with attitude, "O.k. we have a problem here. You see, I grew up with my own bathroom and I really really (two reallies, that's serious) appreciate clean bathrooms."
I was thinking, "We've only been here three days? What could have possibly happened in three days? Who do you think we are, sasquatches?"
She said, "Our bathroom is disgusting. There was a hair in the sink this morning and I would just appreciate it if you guys took care of your messes before leaving in the morning o.k.?" A single hair? Are you kidding me? Most girls I know would call a meeting if their stuff had been taken or there was trouble with a friend stealing their boyfriend not for a single follicle of the human body. Seriously, it was only about an inch long. But she was the strongest personality so we just nodded our heads and said whatever because nobody else wanted any trouble we just wanted to get along and live peacefully.
We didn't understand, you see this girl didn't know how to live peacefully with anyone! Another reason why parents should never have single children! With their own private bathrooms. Can we spell spoiled? I grew up the youngest of five sisters. No hair in the bathroom would have meant my family would have been eligible to win the Noble Peace Prize! There was a reason my dad built a second bathroom when he found out he was going to have five teenage daughters about the same time. He knew he would never even see the john unless he did.
Anyway, in the same meeting she says, "Oh and one other thing. I have a small bladder so if I need to go, ya'all need to vacate so I can go." She has a small body so it was easy to believe that she has a small bladder, but using that same logic I could have easily said, "Psh, well I have a large bladder so if I need to go we're all in trouble! What about our other roommate she had one of her kidney's removed at birth I think she should get priority over all of us!"
This roommate didn't like me. I was nice, that's why she didn't like me. I swear her favorite game was to watch and see when I was going to use the bathroom. Because every time I went and closed the door not two seconds later, BAM BAM BAM. "I have to pee!" eyes roll. I'd call, "Just a second." two seconds later BAM BAM BAM "I have to pee now!"
"Hold it!"
"No!"
I have a weird personality. When someone tries to push my buttons like that I like to push them right back. Now I never did anything that could be blamed on me for ruining the peace of the apartment, but I had my moments. I started locking the bathroom door when I went to brush my teeth. Well she couldn't PROVE that I wasn't peeing. All the rushing noise from the faucet could have easily been me.
"BAM BAM BAM! I need to pee!"
"Well, chuckle" rushing water, "just what do you think I'm doing?" brush brush.
She hated it when any of us left our stuff lying around in the living room even if it was just for an hour. I took great delight in leaving my homework stacked NEATLY by the couch waiting for me when I got home from school. Stacked neatly and out of sight, because then she couldn't really say anything about it without sounding as crazy as she was. All she said was, "C, would you pick up your mess?"
I'd ask all innocent, "what mess? I don't see any mess? Do you see any mess? I don't see any mess....Oh...do you mean that stack of neatly piled books and paper that only take up the space of a single page behind the couch? Oh well why didn't you say so! That's a traffic hazard right there. I better get right on it so I don't get a ticket!"
And so this thing just kept escalating. And it was getting to the point where I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand I wanted peace in the apartment and I could understand her need for a clean house. On the other...she was a control freak with entitlement issues that liked to tick me off. The straw that finally broke the camel's back involved my laptop. I liked to work on my homework on the kitchen table and this table is fairly large for the apartment we are in and my laptop barely takes up a sixth of surface. My computer drove her INSANE!!
She said, "C, would you PLEASE put your laptop in your room at night? I don't want to see it in the morning when I eat breakfast." Seriously? What are going to cook yourself a banquet that requires the use of the whole stinking table in the morning? Didn't your momma EVER teach you to share? But again, I want peace in the apartment. The request seemed reasonable. I started taking my laptop into my room, not because she told me too, but because I was afraid that one day I'd come out and find it smashed on the lawn outside.
A few nights went by. And one night I was working late and forgot to put my laptop away. The next morning, my laptop was gone! I panicked. I looked outside. I looked in my room. I demanded from each of my roommates a confession of where my laptop was. This girl didn't even look at me. She went out the door to class and didn't say a word to me. The only reason I didn't jump her then and there was because I knew that kicking her butt with my awesome black belt Jujitsu skills, yeah, that's right I know how to kick butt, well that would only get me expelled and she would win. Can you imagine that?
The police come to my door, BAM BAM BAM.
"I'm peeing! Come back later!"
I finally found my laptop.
In the microwave.
Are you freaking kidding me? At that point I knew for certain. My roommate was insane. She was an egomaniac and she was insane and rule number one with dealing with insane people. Don't do it. You start trying to deal with insane people and you become crazy yourself and then everybody goes nuts!
Somehow, we survived the semester without killing each other. We were both extatic to to get out of there and away from each other and I was one of the first ones to leave. I packed all my stuff, got into the car with my mom. And the first thing she says is, "Hang on, I've got to pee."
"Don't go in! You'll never get out!!"
Thank you.
So one of the things I've been doing to become a better writer is making a study of different types of entertainments. There's: horror, humor, love, adventure, paranormal, literary and pretty much any other subject that happens to interest me at any one time in my ADOLS life. (ADOLS: Attention Deficit Oh Look Shiny!)
Lately, my study has shifted from horror/paranormal/scare fair to humor. Mainly because my current manuscript is really depressing and my nature is humorous so I want to infuse some of that into the book.
My subject of choice?
Bill Cosby
Hello, is there anyone else nearly as funny who doesn't cheapen their acts with sex, drugs, and alcohol all padded with a covering of swear words? His humor is the kind I understand because it doesn't depress me at the same time with negativity but makes fun of real life just the same. I'm not saying Bill Cosby never had any of those things in his acts, he just presented them with more class than most comedics today with the possible exception of Gabriel Inglesias, but even he's still a step or too down from Cosby.
Actually, I would probably put Brian Regan up there with Bill Cosby because he can be funny without using any of those cheap fall backs. You know you've got some high class comedy when they can make you nearly pee your pants without using anything crude. I mean the guy had me rolling on the floor with his walkie talkie gag. Who laughs about walky talkies? Oh, just the guys who've never heard of the "wammy cablamy," or the "rooty tooty aim and shooty."
I've been thinking about comedy so much that I think I've gone a bit nuts. Last night I couldn't go to bed because I was too busy writing my own comedic skit in my brain. My brain went everywhere from car rides with my dad to college roommates to Alma's Pizza because it baked not broiled like the other guys! Unfortunately only my family members would get that last one and that's ok they're probably the only ones that ever read it. Sarcasm is great.
Ok, just because I have time I'll tell one of the skits I made up.
Here we go.
I had a roommate my freshman year. I'd already been to school before so I felt like I kinda knew the territory and I was excited to meet my next batch of roommies. My mom and I walk in the door and there are my three new roommates standing in the kitchen. I said, "Hi! My name is C and I'm your new roommate."....you could hear the crickets in California. They gave me this sweeping glance that girls do when they're checking to see if you're prettier than them, you know that comparing wrinkled nose glance that makes you go, "What? Did I step in something stinky again?" Yep, I'd obviously missed the bonding party. But I was still optimistic because I thought that since we'd be stuck in this little apartment together for three months somethings bound to click sometime.
Yeah, I was pretty naive. I grew up rather shelter, I didn't realize just how two faced girls could really be because I was brought up to be straight forward and obvious, also known as HONEST, not devious. I had been living in this little shoe box of an apartment for three days when one of the girls decided she would die if she did not call a roommate meeting. You know, those meetings where you sit and talk and try to resolve problems in a civilized manner. Girls are the only ones who do these meetings guys don't do these meetings guys just punch it out and that's it, girls....we have to "discuss things" to make ourselves feel better.
So we had this meeting because this girl had also established herself as the strongest personality in the apartment. Just like guys follow the lead of whoever can beat the snot out of everyone else, girls follow the lead of whoever can bind the most people to her will....yes, girls are scary creatures. I know I am one.
She said, "O.k." like a cheerleader with attitude, "O.k. we have a problem here. You see, I grew up with my own bathroom and I really really (two reallies, that's serious) appreciate clean bathrooms."
I was thinking, "We've only been here three days? What could have possibly happened in three days? Who do you think we are, sasquatches?"
She said, "Our bathroom is disgusting. There was a hair in the sink this morning and I would just appreciate it if you guys took care of your messes before leaving in the morning o.k.?" A single hair? Are you kidding me? Most girls I know would call a meeting if their stuff had been taken or there was trouble with a friend stealing their boyfriend not for a single follicle of the human body. Seriously, it was only about an inch long. But she was the strongest personality so we just nodded our heads and said whatever because nobody else wanted any trouble we just wanted to get along and live peacefully.
We didn't understand, you see this girl didn't know how to live peacefully with anyone! Another reason why parents should never have single children! With their own private bathrooms. Can we spell spoiled? I grew up the youngest of five sisters. No hair in the bathroom would have meant my family would have been eligible to win the Noble Peace Prize! There was a reason my dad built a second bathroom when he found out he was going to have five teenage daughters about the same time. He knew he would never even see the john unless he did.
Anyway, in the same meeting she says, "Oh and one other thing. I have a small bladder so if I need to go, ya'all need to vacate so I can go." She has a small body so it was easy to believe that she has a small bladder, but using that same logic I could have easily said, "Psh, well I have a large bladder so if I need to go we're all in trouble! What about our other roommate she had one of her kidney's removed at birth I think she should get priority over all of us!"
This roommate didn't like me. I was nice, that's why she didn't like me. I swear her favorite game was to watch and see when I was going to use the bathroom. Because every time I went and closed the door not two seconds later, BAM BAM BAM. "I have to pee!" eyes roll. I'd call, "Just a second." two seconds later BAM BAM BAM "I have to pee now!"
"Hold it!"
"No!"
I have a weird personality. When someone tries to push my buttons like that I like to push them right back. Now I never did anything that could be blamed on me for ruining the peace of the apartment, but I had my moments. I started locking the bathroom door when I went to brush my teeth. Well she couldn't PROVE that I wasn't peeing. All the rushing noise from the faucet could have easily been me.
"BAM BAM BAM! I need to pee!"
"Well, chuckle" rushing water, "just what do you think I'm doing?" brush brush.
She hated it when any of us left our stuff lying around in the living room even if it was just for an hour. I took great delight in leaving my homework stacked NEATLY by the couch waiting for me when I got home from school. Stacked neatly and out of sight, because then she couldn't really say anything about it without sounding as crazy as she was. All she said was, "C, would you pick up your mess?"
I'd ask all innocent, "what mess? I don't see any mess? Do you see any mess? I don't see any mess....Oh...do you mean that stack of neatly piled books and paper that only take up the space of a single page behind the couch? Oh well why didn't you say so! That's a traffic hazard right there. I better get right on it so I don't get a ticket!"
And so this thing just kept escalating. And it was getting to the point where I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand I wanted peace in the apartment and I could understand her need for a clean house. On the other...she was a control freak with entitlement issues that liked to tick me off. The straw that finally broke the camel's back involved my laptop. I liked to work on my homework on the kitchen table and this table is fairly large for the apartment we are in and my laptop barely takes up a sixth of surface. My computer drove her INSANE!!
She said, "C, would you PLEASE put your laptop in your room at night? I don't want to see it in the morning when I eat breakfast." Seriously? What are going to cook yourself a banquet that requires the use of the whole stinking table in the morning? Didn't your momma EVER teach you to share? But again, I want peace in the apartment. The request seemed reasonable. I started taking my laptop into my room, not because she told me too, but because I was afraid that one day I'd come out and find it smashed on the lawn outside.
A few nights went by. And one night I was working late and forgot to put my laptop away. The next morning, my laptop was gone! I panicked. I looked outside. I looked in my room. I demanded from each of my roommates a confession of where my laptop was. This girl didn't even look at me. She went out the door to class and didn't say a word to me. The only reason I didn't jump her then and there was because I knew that kicking her butt with my awesome black belt Jujitsu skills, yeah, that's right I know how to kick butt, well that would only get me expelled and she would win. Can you imagine that?
The police come to my door, BAM BAM BAM.
"I'm peeing! Come back later!"
I finally found my laptop.
In the microwave.
Are you freaking kidding me? At that point I knew for certain. My roommate was insane. She was an egomaniac and she was insane and rule number one with dealing with insane people. Don't do it. You start trying to deal with insane people and you become crazy yourself and then everybody goes nuts!
Somehow, we survived the semester without killing each other. We were both extatic to to get out of there and away from each other and I was one of the first ones to leave. I packed all my stuff, got into the car with my mom. And the first thing she says is, "Hang on, I've got to pee."
"Don't go in! You'll never get out!!"
Thank you.
Resolutions Revised
The Tri thing is still on, it's the "sending something into a publisher by December 31" that I'm having trouble dealing with.
The thing is, I truly know nothing about the biz in published writing. The more I read and study on the subject the more I realize this fact. Many people can do what I do. They can come up with exciting stories with good plots and great climax's and endings....hundreds of these stories are turned down every year. So what makes a good book fresh and exciting to someone who sees millions of manuscripts a year? How do you entice the people who have seen "everything!" before? Because it's those editors and agents you really need to impress, not just an audience percentage.
So I've changed my goals to include a deeper disciplined study into the writing and publishing field. When I bought those other books I also bought, "The Art of War for Writers" by James Scott Bell. I haven't really gotten into it yet, but the concept is fascinating to me because it is based off of the Chinese General Sun Tzu's "Art of War" concepts. I've always had a healthy interest in Asian and other ancient cultures. General Sun Tzu was the great strategist who lived between 400-320 B.C. (the exact dates are still debatable) So I expect some great things from this book.
"Do not repeat the tactics which have gained you one victory, but let your methods be regulated by the infinite variety of circumstances." - Sun Tzu
The thing is, I truly know nothing about the biz in published writing. The more I read and study on the subject the more I realize this fact. Many people can do what I do. They can come up with exciting stories with good plots and great climax's and endings....hundreds of these stories are turned down every year. So what makes a good book fresh and exciting to someone who sees millions of manuscripts a year? How do you entice the people who have seen "everything!" before? Because it's those editors and agents you really need to impress, not just an audience percentage.
So I've changed my goals to include a deeper disciplined study into the writing and publishing field. When I bought those other books I also bought, "The Art of War for Writers" by James Scott Bell. I haven't really gotten into it yet, but the concept is fascinating to me because it is based off of the Chinese General Sun Tzu's "Art of War" concepts. I've always had a healthy interest in Asian and other ancient cultures. General Sun Tzu was the great strategist who lived between 400-320 B.C. (the exact dates are still debatable) So I expect some great things from this book.
"Do not repeat the tactics which have gained you one victory, but let your methods be regulated by the infinite variety of circumstances." - Sun Tzu
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Enduring
I gotta say, I am SOOOO grateful for all the prep work suggested by the "First Novel" book I bought the other day because I nearly had a meltdown and almost gave up my current story entirely. Doubts kill creativity faster than a bullet to the brain. You can't write with it. You can't have it looming in the back of your mind or it weighs the story down. Best advice? Shove it out of the wagon and press on. Who cares what's been done or what anyone else thinks? No one knows the story exists but you. You're the one who ultimately decides if it lives or dies.
Yeah, I say that NOW, but what about the near meltdown?
You see, when you're in the middle of composing a first draft sometimes the characters and "logical" circumstances wrest the book from your grasp and the story evolves into something entirely new and fascinating....just not exactly what you had planned out.
I basically had a meltdown after three such scenes exploded from my finger tips and I was wondering if the current stage of progression my "child-to-adult" character would allow for this mini-climax I had planned and was so excited about.
Due to the nature of my story, my protagonist needed to have a catalyst to make her frightened out of her wits after spending the majority of the first part of the book in a slight panic/survival mode. She needed to be in a state where she felt that her life was honestly and immediately threatened by the terrifying people she's going to eventually come to understand and befriend. I have three problems.
1.) These people are turning out to be not so terrifying and obviously helpful. Problem: it is difficult to intentially make a character very stupid and self-centered without making her completely unlikable. And unfortunately she'd have to be to not notice their niceness. They're supposed to be strange, not brutal.
2.) Terrified protagonists are OK to heighten tension for a while. Problem: it eventually becomes old and you need to have a moment when she actually grows a spine and stands up for herself. Again, the problem is likability, you're supposed to like her, not be annoyed at her.
3.) Scenes typed are often the best and purest forms of the story. Problem: due to the newly spawned scenes "time" has passed too much and she has grown as a character in such a way that keeping the other people terrifying and making the crucial scene believable has become three times as difficult. I need to start the second driving engine sooner and I need this mini-climax to happen the way I'd plan it or it doesn't fit with the characters or the ending.
Now you see why I was having a melt down.
My solution? One of the "pre-game" tips was to write the individual scenes onto note cards whose order could be shifted quickly and easily. I simply had to remind myself that the chronological order wasn't necessarily set in stone and that making that mini-climax work (with some tweaking) wasn't completely impossible and, with some creative adjustments, it could still work and might come out more dramatically than plan if I get it just right. She could grow a spine for awhile, then have a sudden fear and reminding of her mortality and the fact that she really was playing with fire.
So it is that I find myself on Chapter 4 of Clarissa's journey into a Monster Academy where she must not only survive, but find the threat that haunts even the monsters themselves and deal with it before they all end up dead.
Yeah, I say that NOW, but what about the near meltdown?
You see, when you're in the middle of composing a first draft sometimes the characters and "logical" circumstances wrest the book from your grasp and the story evolves into something entirely new and fascinating....just not exactly what you had planned out.
I basically had a meltdown after three such scenes exploded from my finger tips and I was wondering if the current stage of progression my "child-to-adult" character would allow for this mini-climax I had planned and was so excited about.
Due to the nature of my story, my protagonist needed to have a catalyst to make her frightened out of her wits after spending the majority of the first part of the book in a slight panic/survival mode. She needed to be in a state where she felt that her life was honestly and immediately threatened by the terrifying people she's going to eventually come to understand and befriend. I have three problems.
1.) These people are turning out to be not so terrifying and obviously helpful. Problem: it is difficult to intentially make a character very stupid and self-centered without making her completely unlikable. And unfortunately she'd have to be to not notice their niceness. They're supposed to be strange, not brutal.
2.) Terrified protagonists are OK to heighten tension for a while. Problem: it eventually becomes old and you need to have a moment when she actually grows a spine and stands up for herself. Again, the problem is likability, you're supposed to like her, not be annoyed at her.
3.) Scenes typed are often the best and purest forms of the story. Problem: due to the newly spawned scenes "time" has passed too much and she has grown as a character in such a way that keeping the other people terrifying and making the crucial scene believable has become three times as difficult. I need to start the second driving engine sooner and I need this mini-climax to happen the way I'd plan it or it doesn't fit with the characters or the ending.
Now you see why I was having a melt down.
My solution? One of the "pre-game" tips was to write the individual scenes onto note cards whose order could be shifted quickly and easily. I simply had to remind myself that the chronological order wasn't necessarily set in stone and that making that mini-climax work (with some tweaking) wasn't completely impossible and, with some creative adjustments, it could still work and might come out more dramatically than plan if I get it just right. She could grow a spine for awhile, then have a sudden fear and reminding of her mortality and the fact that she really was playing with fire.
So it is that I find myself on Chapter 4 of Clarissa's journey into a Monster Academy where she must not only survive, but find the threat that haunts even the monsters themselves and deal with it before they all end up dead.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Awful Trend of New Years and Diving into the Publishing World
Just once, I'd like to go through a New Year without having to hear about all the awesome easy quick ways to loose weight. As if losing weight is the only resolution that could be made in the world. I'd like to walk into my local bookstore and find a table of, "Seven Rules to being a Good Person" or "Twelve Weeks to a Cheerful Personality" now those are worthy goals. Anyone who read my triathlon segment knows that I have nothing against good health and nutrition. I just think New Year's resolutions should be more inclusive than just the circumference of our waist lines.
For example, one of my goals is to get a million rejections this year. And that's good. Because what that statement really means is that I will do my best to enter the publishing world. It's time to stop dreaming and to start doing.
I find it ironic that I had to find the 'how to be an author/publishing 101' books in a dark lonely corner in the back of a bookstore that markets the hard efforts of millions of authors on every shelf. They were even next to the college textbook section. The NERVE of those Barnes and Noble people. Don't they know that they're only in business because young hopefuls like me are reading books like those? All kidding aside, I discovered some great finds.
First "Your First Novel: a published author and a top agent share the keys to achieving your dream" by Ann Rittenberg and Laura Whitomb. Basically its the conceiving to adulthood step by step guide for any published creative work. So far I'm loving it. With every tip I have to kind of grin to myself and say, "Oh I do that...oh do that to....that? psh, I figured that out when I was ten!....woooo, good idea, I'll use that later."
The other two I bought; "The Art of War for Writers," by James Scott Bell, and "2011 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market," I have yet to deeply look over. The first looked interesting so I got it. It will probably tell me a lot of what the current book I'm studying will tell me, but it's good to get that from more than one point of view. As for the "Market" book, that one was the reason behind my visit. It was suggested by my English professor who dabbles in the publishing industry. He all but said that "any serious author would benefit greatly from buying a current edition of this book." We'll see, Brother H, we'll see. I hope you're right.
For example, one of my goals is to get a million rejections this year. And that's good. Because what that statement really means is that I will do my best to enter the publishing world. It's time to stop dreaming and to start doing.
I find it ironic that I had to find the 'how to be an author/publishing 101' books in a dark lonely corner in the back of a bookstore that markets the hard efforts of millions of authors on every shelf. They were even next to the college textbook section. The NERVE of those Barnes and Noble people. Don't they know that they're only in business because young hopefuls like me are reading books like those? All kidding aside, I discovered some great finds.
First "Your First Novel: a published author and a top agent share the keys to achieving your dream" by Ann Rittenberg and Laura Whitomb. Basically its the conceiving to adulthood step by step guide for any published creative work. So far I'm loving it. With every tip I have to kind of grin to myself and say, "Oh I do that...oh do that to....that? psh, I figured that out when I was ten!....woooo, good idea, I'll use that later."
The other two I bought; "The Art of War for Writers," by James Scott Bell, and "2011 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market," I have yet to deeply look over. The first looked interesting so I got it. It will probably tell me a lot of what the current book I'm studying will tell me, but it's good to get that from more than one point of view. As for the "Market" book, that one was the reason behind my visit. It was suggested by my English professor who dabbles in the publishing industry. He all but said that "any serious author would benefit greatly from buying a current edition of this book." We'll see, Brother H, we'll see. I hope you're right.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Life is an Adventure: My Exciting Weekend
My week started with me getting a call from Brother W to give a talk this Sunday. You know me, if it's from the bishopric I've been taught to never say no. I put off writing my talk the whole week because, hey, I'm a busy girl trying to stay in shape and find a job AND study up on the art of publishing. It's a lot of hard work. I did get a small job babysitting 9-11 some days and some random evenings for a lady with three kids. The youngest, S, is adorable!
I should have known that procrastination would have its penalties, what I didn't know is that they'd be this severe.
I knew that a stomach virus has been going around the entire west coast for a while, but for some reason I thought I'd be safe from it. Nope. Friday night I was waking up every hour on the hour to wring out my stomach of something it clearly didn't like. Earlier that night I had made chocolate chip cookies and had only one, count them, ONE cookie before feeling ill while my mom had five and was fine. For the next 24 hours I couldn't look at something with chocolate in it without wanting to gag.
For a while I thought I was safe from giving my talk on Sunday. Wrong again, by Saturday afternoon it became fairly obvious that I wasn't going to be sick enough to miss church. So I cobbled together a few quotes and ideas about following the Willingness of the Lord and passed them through mom until I felt ready.
You'd think that'd be the end of it. Nope. I convinced myself that church started at 9:30, double checking that online Sunday morning I found out that it was actually at 9:00. Rushing to get ready I ran out the door with all my bags to discover frost on my car. I scraped and silently grumbled about being late to a meeting where I was supposed to give a talk and then when I reached for the car handle I realized one very important thing. Turning on the ignition may help you scrape off ice, but locking your door does not get you to church any faster.
A kind neighbor, a locksmith, and a lot of frustration later, I was walking into the meeting a whole hour late. The bishop decided to be nice to me and let me speak for about ten minutes anyway. I was so jumbled and spoke so fast it was a wonder anyone got anything out of my talk. I got a lot of, "there were good messages" and "good job" afterwords. That unfortunately doesn't say anything. You're required to be polite at my church.
I did find a English tutor job for someone who's taking their GED on our bulletin board though. And I met C again. C is a guy I've met all of twice and went on one date before leaving for three months. I had to ask his name again because he changed his hair and I didn't recognize him. Oops. He's working 50 hours a week and going to school full-time. I wish he'd give me some of his hours.
All in all, a very adventurous weekend.
I should have known that procrastination would have its penalties, what I didn't know is that they'd be this severe.
I knew that a stomach virus has been going around the entire west coast for a while, but for some reason I thought I'd be safe from it. Nope. Friday night I was waking up every hour on the hour to wring out my stomach of something it clearly didn't like. Earlier that night I had made chocolate chip cookies and had only one, count them, ONE cookie before feeling ill while my mom had five and was fine. For the next 24 hours I couldn't look at something with chocolate in it without wanting to gag.
For a while I thought I was safe from giving my talk on Sunday. Wrong again, by Saturday afternoon it became fairly obvious that I wasn't going to be sick enough to miss church. So I cobbled together a few quotes and ideas about following the Willingness of the Lord and passed them through mom until I felt ready.
You'd think that'd be the end of it. Nope. I convinced myself that church started at 9:30, double checking that online Sunday morning I found out that it was actually at 9:00. Rushing to get ready I ran out the door with all my bags to discover frost on my car. I scraped and silently grumbled about being late to a meeting where I was supposed to give a talk and then when I reached for the car handle I realized one very important thing. Turning on the ignition may help you scrape off ice, but locking your door does not get you to church any faster.
A kind neighbor, a locksmith, and a lot of frustration later, I was walking into the meeting a whole hour late. The bishop decided to be nice to me and let me speak for about ten minutes anyway. I was so jumbled and spoke so fast it was a wonder anyone got anything out of my talk. I got a lot of, "there were good messages" and "good job" afterwords. That unfortunately doesn't say anything. You're required to be polite at my church.
I did find a English tutor job for someone who's taking their GED on our bulletin board though. And I met C again. C is a guy I've met all of twice and went on one date before leaving for three months. I had to ask his name again because he changed his hair and I didn't recognize him. Oops. He's working 50 hours a week and going to school full-time. I wish he'd give me some of his hours.
All in all, a very adventurous weekend.
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