Sunday, February 28, 2016

Too pooped to pop

Something my Mom used to say when we were frazzled.  And I find it still holds true.  Yesterday was a busy lovely day of the foul-mouthed merc and Patty Wagon for dinner.
Then, instead of actually resting, I found myself awake more than asleep last night/this morning.
I'm so paying for it.

Editing my second book.  I stop at a spot where I'm adding a bridge scene to link two different scenes, and all I could think about was laying my head down on the bed in my office/The Sanctuary and sleeping for a couple of hours.
Not too mention I forgot an important couple of pieces of paper at the day job.
So that all greatly inhales.

I'm just so damn tired.

Instead of finishing the edit, I think I may watch a mindless movie or read a book.  I'd like to watch "Rogue Nation" again.  I own it.  Thanks, Honey.  Or I could read the latest Rainbow Rowell.  Or maybe I could watch "The Magicians" on-demand.  The Lev Grossman books are brilliant.

Yet here I sit.  Brain-dead and too tired to do much about it.  I don't want to lose two or three hours of my day sleeping.  But I don't know if I have the werewithal to do much of anything else.

Last Sunday I wrote 5000 words.  This Sunday?  I'll be lucky not to drool on myself with my eyes open.


Sunday, February 21, 2016

Whole New World

Not going to break out into the classic "Aladdin" song.  Tempting, though it is.

I've been querying agents.  Necessary process when you want representation.  Not so necessary if you want to self-publish.  And while I don't write for financial gain, nice side effect, I need a broader audience to read my works.
Therefore, I require an agent.
When I truly began writing over a decade ago, I hadn't a clue what I was doing.  Now, with a little experience under my belt, I have a small semblance of a clue.  *grins*
I remember querying agents when I didn't have a book published and wanted representation.  It was...painful.  Some were outright rude.  I remember it well.
But as I query for my five-book series, I've found it's a different ball game.  I've received five rejection emails so far.  And that's fine.  I comfort myself with the fact that I haven't found a good fit yet, and then I pull up the sites that tell me J.K. Rowling was rejected in the double digits.
Here's the difference:  These rejection letters are basically NICE.
Who knew?
I think it has to do with the fact that the Internet is a hell of a record keeper.  Agents and agencies that were rude are being called out on sites.  There is no need to be cruel to make a point.  There's never been a need for that.  So now they are apologetic, for the most part, and you don't feel like you've been emotionally eviscerated.
It's quite refreshing.
I've also grown as an artist that I don't take it personally.  That's what a decade of writing will do to you.  It thickens your skin and hones your skill.  Sharpens your wit and gives you enough distance from your work that you don't feel kicked in the nuts when someone doesn't want said work.

I'll continue querying.  I'm not even through one of my tiers yet.  And I'll keep writing because me not writing is something no one wants to be around.

For those that are also querying agents and looking for a literary home, good luck to you.
Keep writing.
Keep querying.
And for goodness sake, don't take the rejections personally.
If your story is ready, it will find a home.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

My Friday

Oh, yes.
I'm off tomorrow but have to work Saturday.  By the time this fourth Friday rolls around, I'm on the cusp of forgetting my humanity.  I'm tired and restless and need time for myself.  I don't think a lot of people understand that.
I need down time.  Even from myself.  Time to let my mind wander and pluck and embrace.  Time to breathe and know that I can wallow in the moment instead of having to be somewhere else doing something else.

Do I have big plans?
Um, no.

Next week is birthday week, and I have enough things planned for that, apparently, that I believe my day off tomorrow will be one to take it as slowly as possible and enjoy every minute.
And that becomes lost so easily in the day-to-day living.  Hamster wheel on high.  Gotta do.  Should have done.  Going to squeeze as much as I can into this 24 hours because I didn't have time before and OH MY GOD I don't think I can!
But, really?
That little thing your lungs do to keep you alive?
It needs to slow down.  It needs to even out.  It needs to be a priority.
It needs to influence the day more than the day needs to influence it.

I have literally had clerks ask me if I'm in a hurry because I'm twitchy and in fast mode.  And guess what?
It's my day off.
I have nowhere to be.
But I'm still in manic mode.

Have to work on that one.

Friday, February 05, 2016

Pieces of me

Hard at work when all three of my babies, and my baby's baby, came to see me.
Did you ever have that feeling that heart was literally going to BURST with love?
I was close to my mother growing up.  That went away for quite some time.  Now we're back to being amicable, but there's still distance.  My father passed away a few years ago.
But my children?  My 20, 21, and 22 year old???  And my 9 month old grandson?
Holy shit.
They are my world.
I look at them and know that I've done something right.
I'll have bestsellers.  I'll work too hard not to.
But the best parts of my life live in my babies.
They are smart and beautiful and flawed and sarcastic.  They always hug and kiss me and tell me they love me.  They're good people who help others and work hard for themselves.  And no, they're not perfect.  I love them.  I'm not struck stupid by them.  *grins*

So the best part of this incredibly long week happened about two hours ago.  When my beautiful babies and one grandbaby graced me with their presence and spent some time with a woman who loves them more than life.


Thursday, February 04, 2016

You don't know fear

You don't know fear until your youngest child calls and tells you she's been in a wreck with your grandson in the back seat.  She's incredibly upset.  Some high school chick ran a stop sign, and my youngest clipped the chick's back tire while the entire left side of her bumper/lights/fender are fucking toast.
The Baby Chicken had to go to the ER.  Her shoulder and collarbone are separated.  She has her wing in a sling.
Little Man is fine, thank God.  He was, however, quite put out that when BC called the police, he had to stay in his car seat.  Which, thank you God again, was on the OTHER side of the car.
So my adrenals hit overdrive early, and I'm dragging ass right now.
Went to boy child's daycare and took pictures of BC's car.  Contacted the other insurance agency to make a claim.  Hoping this is handled fairly expediently.
*deep breath*

So glad tomorrow is Friday, and there's a weekend on my horizon where I know that MC will be staying with BC and helping with Little Man.  I'll be able to sleep in.  So on and so forth.  It seems lately that every day is fraught with all sorts of hectic.  I'm ready to slow down a bit.  Watch some Thunder basketball.  THUNDER UP!!!  Edit my second book and work on some writing.
And let's hope, unlike the past two weekends, that I actually feel like I've had one, shall we?
Because that would be oh-so-new-and-different.

Totally random.

I like to cook.  I mean...I LIKE it.  And I absolutely love the Pioneer Woman's cookbooks.  The recipes, pictures, and little comments are great.  I currently have her Dinnertime book on my desk.  I shall drool over the pictures and convince myself I'm capable of making at least a couple of dishes.
But let me tell you something.  When I'm a little better off, I'm hiring a cook.  It's just going to happen.  I don't mind laundry and vacuuming and dusting, but by GOD!!!  I need someone to slave in my kitchen and make me delicacies.
From her books.
That is all.

Tuesday, February 02, 2016

On the hunt

I remember beginning my writing career hellbent on finishing my first story and then wanting so badly to have it somewhere, anywhere, readers could enjoy it.
I'm a bit older and wiser now.  I've actually finished two of a five-book series and am about twenty percent through the third.  And only now have I polished the pieces to begin searching for an agent.
Some of it stems from my home burning to the ground after I committed to a four-book series with time commitments and having my life fall apart.  The other?  I'm giving myself breathing room, and I love it.
There are people I come across that have asked me over the span of these past couple years about my writing.  I tell them, quite honestly, that I need to finish at least the first two of the five before I'll even begin searching for the proper agent.  I also have an Erotic Paranormal and a work of Philosophical fiction on my plate.  Both are started with around ten thousand words each.
It's not like I've been twiddling my thumbs.  But after having books come out sometimes twice a year, I've decided to concentrate more on several projects.
I'd go mad if I couldn't write.
Hell, my family would have me committed, I'm quite sure.

So I'm on the hunt for that perfect fit that I'm sure I'll find.
Because not only am I a writing fool, I'm an optimistic fiend.