Wednesday, September 20, 2017


Every time I type the word query I type querty and then we're back to qwertyuiop. This is what happens when you learned touch-typing at an early age.

Anyway query! I wrote my dang query eight million times and then finally got it to a good place yesterday. And then! Sent it off to two choice agents! Today I sent it to two more!

In a shocking turn of events, I have not yet been showered with negotiable currency and offers of twelve-book deals. But I'm sure their email boxes are pretty full.

I give it a week.


Maybe two.

I think one of them promised to respond within two weeks, one within eight, and so on. I did not keep track, but I DO have a spreadsheet telling me who got queried on which day and which agency they're from. Because I have no memory and don't want to screw up by doubling up.


That was huge. And every time I research a new person and write a new version of the letter for them and get ready to send it out, I'm completely squirming and sweating with anxiety and stress, to the point where people were looking at me. I'm like wringing my hands and muttering and looking crazed.


So that's four out. I guess I'll try to send two a day every day? If it doesn't make me into an insane person. I'm hoping that I'll get SIGNED soon so that I can quit.

The excellent side effect of this is that I'm absolutely raring to get the twins book finished and sorted out and fixed up and DONE and then I'll have a lovely YA ready to query and send out. This New Adult thing is sort of odd and borderline, especially since I'm nearly always a YA writer.

It's bananas to start out with a non-standard novel, but oh well. It's the best one and it's ready to go.

I'm frantic about my twins novel because it has so many issues and I want to fix them all RIGHT NOW but there's this pesky angle where I have work and things to plan and prep and present and all that kind of stuff. Work!

I love the work, but it's distracting, you know? To be going back and forth. At least I can stop writing this dang query though. That's one big thing off the table. Hurray!

BOOK. I have to find a way to tell myself, "Self, this is the time to spend on this book. Do not think about work. You already did that. It's ready. It's done. You are off the hook with that. FOCUS ON THE BOOK."

That's my biggest challenge these days, with the fragmented attention.

You know what I really liked? WRITING FULL TIME. That was the BEST. It was a huge pleasure and I just did it and I loved it and the writing was amazing because of it.

That is why people become full time writers.

So I want to do that. Okay? Let's do that. Sign me, agents. Sell my book. Get me buckets of the cash. Take away all the other distractions. And I am a book-writing machine of happiness.

I have pink grapefruit juice, too, because I got totally sick and have a buzzing nasty bees' nest in my chest, all inflammation and asthma and pointless coughing and misery. If all goes well, it won't turn into bronchitis or pneumonia or any of that nonsense. But, pink grapefruit juice!

This is how I am: I couldn't remember if any of my meds meant I couldn't drink grapefruit juice, so I asked the pharmacist and she checked my records and then I went and bought pink grapefruit juice. It turns out I *used* to take something where it wasn't allowed. So it was good that I checked.

Anyway. BOOK TO WRITE. Aside from dog walk and feeding the cat, this is all I have to do until bedtime, so let's make it count, eh? Yes!

Thursday, September 14, 2017

The sun's going down

I'm about to turn into a pumpkin, so I have to hurry.

I go to bed at sunset now because I have to get up at six. It's a whole time zone switch for me. Or like six time zones. I moved to Estonia, basically, while staying here at home.

It's nice in Estonia! Stress levels have plummeted. My blood pressure is low even for me. Like, lower than they like it to be. And I never eat anything. It's a whole turnaround kind of thing. Since I started back at the bricks and mortar, I've been dropping weight like nobody's business. Kind of cool.

I'm struggling to finish Summerlands, the book about the twins, but also fighting hard with the query letter for Landslide, so there are two headaches I'm having at the same time, in the time allotted for headaches, which is to say: NOT MUCH.

Because I'm fully booked with the work, boy oh boy. It takes up a lot of time. And energy. Both, actually.

I'm also fighting hard not to let the real world get away from me like it did for the first two weeks, like the lawn mowing and dish washing and stuff. I still need to vacuum. I just never vacuum, when I ought to do it religiously. I guess I vacuum the way other people do religion. Twice a year, at Easter and Christmas, whether I need to or not.

The great part of work is I get to read all kinds of wonderful things and hang out with smart people and talk about books and stories all day long. I mean, dream work! It's all good! It's just a lot and I'm still getting used to how much it is. Oof!

Book writing is suffering for sure. Must get back into a thousand or two thousand words a day without fail. I was doing it up until about Monday when I realized I was deep in over my head. Also last weekend I had niece's birthday so I was out of the house for like seven or eight hours Saturday, which did not help with the mountain of work I had to do, and then I went out again Sunday to intervene in her musical instrument selection for band, which she had due for Monday. I didn't want her to play saxophone, for no clearly defined reason. Instead, I took over my French horn and let her play with it, and play it.

First of all, she's a natural. She played it better in the first five minutes that I've played it since I got it. She started playing SONGS when she barely knew which hand went where. So that's amazing and terrifying and wonderful. Go niece!

I left it there. I think she should play French horn if she wants to play French horn. We didn't discuss like if she's keeping it or borrowing it or what. There is plenty of time for that later. It's not like I've been playing the thing.

Plus she LOVES it the way you should absolutely love your beautiful brass instrument! I loved my baritone the same way. Just adored its glossy brass and smooth curves and complex valve mechanism. Beautiful.

I'm working up a new book idea full of lost plane crashes, trailrunning, divorced parents who want to hear about each other, incompatible household demands, borders, boundaries, land and sea, land and air, sea and sky, Maine and Canada, things you do that you can never do again, first times, last times, only times, missed chances, and migratory waterfowl. Among other things. Also who other people see when they look at us and whether that's on us at all.

It's in the planning stages is what I'm saying.

But that's okay because I have like 13k still to write of Summerlands. It keeps wanting to veer into this territory that does not work for me. Then I avoid it out of awkwardness. Then I come back and delete that stuff out and start going again. Must keep a firm hand on the steering wheel! That route is not productive!

The hardest part, oddly enough, is writing about their filmmaking, even though I've totally done that. It's hard to write about somehow.

Well. I will keep at it. The only way writing gets done is if you write.

Also flipping NaNoWriMo is coming up in November, six weeks away. Not sure what I'm going to do for that, but maybe the borderlands one. I don't know. I'll for sure have to start sooner than that. But I can always just start a new file and word count for November.

Query letters, man. I'm trying to rethink this terrible one in terms of character and conflict. That seems to help.

And the sun is sinking fast. So am I. Sleepy. Off to bed.

Monday, July 31, 2017



I dread the heat. It's already going to be in the mid or high 80s all week and I'm not really down for that at all. HOT. Do not like!

I'm nearly done with all of the training and paperwork and stuff for fall. Eesh. It's been a whole day of this kind of thing. I mean, I made that happen. I decided to do it all at once because stuff like that sucks and so I wanted to limit it all to one day. It's nearly done, but there's one more big project I have to do.

Then it's back to Booksville for me. So close to completing the draft of this book. I'm close enough that I'm reading the home renovation book for the next one that I want to fix and finish.

Completing a first draft is awesome but it isn't a finished book. There are stages.

1. Finish the book.
2. Make the book make sense.
3. And then make the book awesome.

You really, really, really, really have to complete step one before you even think about going on to the next steps, or you will never ever complete step one.

At least when you're me.

Maybe I can go on and finish the draft tonight, though. I went out of town over the weekend and got super flipping exhausted swimming in lakes and pushing a giant floating raft out into the lake while swimming and then treading water and rotating and relocating the giant floating raft. And then I got to stay awake most of the night because my arms and shoulders utterly freaked out and kept on going numb and waking me up.

Wake up! say my shoulders. Wake up, because we're asleep! Switch!

So I've been stretching and whatnot to try to restore human functioning to my physical self. And hopefully make it so that the next time I do an actual thing it doesn't render me dysfunctional in the physicality the way it always does these days. Hike up a mountain? Busted foot for two weeks! Push a raft with swimming legs? No more shoulders! Also I oughta get back on the trampoline and all that like I was when Perfect Dog-man Boyfriend inspired me from Jupiter Ascending.

My niece had my phone and was looking through all my pictures, most of which are so very boring, trees and rocks and my dog and cat. But then she found one of Perfect Dog-man Boyfriend and said, "Who's that?" And I had to explain that he's half wolf or whatever and flies around on space rollerblades and he's super loyal and protects his person and all that.

She totally got it.

I tend to save pictures of anything I like. A corgi dressed as Thor! A bunny dressed as Sherlock Holmes! A cool tiny house! Some stripy rocks! I think those are the ones she was looking for.

Yep, life sure is exciting! I liked swimming in the lake with the kids for sure. But the rest of the time it's sitting at the desk and writing things all day long. Whee!

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

I would stab this novel but it might still not die

I'm fighting this book and it's fighting back hard. I've done SO MUCH WORK but that doesn't matter. I mean I have to say that to students all the time. "But I worked so hard on this!" Yes, but it's still terrible. As is this book!

It has major logic problems because it started out as a genre/mystery and I took that out and replaced it with this property thing and that sucks so I've been undercutting that and now it's just these two big mysteries that our main character should have figured out years ago but has to stumble backwards into while freaking out over twenty-one other major crises.

Okay, that's not so bad. I mean I like that kind of story. Fine! It's okay.

It's not DONE though. Instead of writing it right now, I'm doing this! Hahahahaha! Oooh. Because I'm listening to some old MBMBAM episode with Lin-Manuel Miranda before he even put Hamilton out there. In other words: procrastination!

I have a list of scenes I need to write. I'm just going to write them. And then there's a couple of long talky sections that make me want to slam my head in a drawer, but instead I'll just sum them up in my mind and cut them out and rewrite them from scratch. That's what you have to do pretty much.

Must not ooze over to this terrific 30k draft and work on that instead...noooooo!

Must say to self: "Self, go write the damn book. Just write one of those stupid scenes. Then go punch the speed bag for a while. Then come back and write another one of those stupid scenes."

Don't wanna! It's so weird, I don't even know why. It's not that I'm avoiding work. I went through this entire book multiple times day after day fixing major things, like doing a pass to remove the mystery plot and doing a pass to change this one character from one thing to another, and another pass to remove these other dudes and a subplot, and another one to completely change and massage the shape of the relationship arc. SO MANY MORE PASSES NEEDED.

It's just so much better to write a book straight through in a row without pretzeling yourself into an infinity shape where you have to keep going around and around and over and over everything.

This isn't even about making it GOOD yet. This is all about making it hang together and make sense. UGH.

I just really prefer telling a story in a straight line, where someone makes a choice and that has consequences and then they make more choices to deal with the consequences and that causes more consequences and so on until boom!

I've noticed that someone I like to have books and stories end with someone very high up. Like, physically high up. It's kind of a funny thing to discover. One ended up on top of a tall building in Burbank. One had someone climb a mountain, get taken off in a helicopter, then land on the roof of a hospital. Hard to get higher up than that. Maybe a balloon or plane or spacecraft.

I'm feeling a PROFOUND pull toward space opera after soaking in and delighting in Jupiter Ascending and being reminded that my favorite thing is space opera. I live for Farscape, dude! And I have this whole series of books that are space opera! I think I wrote two complete ones and then half of three others.

Just thinking about tackling rewrites of those antiques makes me want to lie down with the covers pulled over my head.

Whereas thinking about writing fun new space opera makes me tired but also happy?

Anyway I'm all wobbly and boneless today again because I took one of my prescription non-freakout pills per night for the past three nights. I'm going to have to quit taking them because I have gotten slightly more than zero writing done since I started. Sure, they allow me to sleep, and I'm all mellow and happy and sleepy and dopey, but I have things to do, dude! Time is slipping away! Work starts in a month and I have meetings coming up for both places I'm working, online and real world.

I'm already pretty happy about all of the work I've gotten done in this middle time. I mean, I wrote a whole novel that I'm pleased with. That's fantastic. But I judge my days by how much I get done and I'm getting nothing done.

That's not quite true. A couple of days ago I got utterly fed up with the stupid metal bed frame. I haven't been sleeping well on that bed, even buttressed with bookcases, so I took apart the day bed that pulls out to be queen sized from its resting twin size (Hemnes daybed at Ikea if you're curious) and brought it back into the bedroom and moved the metal frame/feet back to the guest/writing room, and it was all brutally hard work and my back is killing me.

And THEN I discovered that the new mattress is much heavier and made the slats sag, so I had to buy a bunkie board and do all this surgery on it. I had to take apart one end and saw the boards and shorten it and then reassemble the end and staplegun the covering back on. It was kind of brutal. It fits exactly perfectly now, though, and the bed is fabulously, gloriously comfortable and secure feeling.

It's hard to explain what was wrong with it before. It was a mattress on a bed frame. Like normal. I mean. It's just a bed. But it was too high and too narrow and too scary and then when I buttressed with bookcases it was too closed in and too stifling, and I hated having my back to the doorway. I kept feeling like someone was standing there. I had to take down my bathrobe that usually hangs over the door because I thought it was someone, even though that robe has been hanging there for fifteen months.

So I moved the bed 90 degrees, back under the eaves, and put it on the old daybed, which is much wider than the mattress, so I have a headboard, and walls at both sides of the head, and extra space to the side, so dog doesn't feel like he has to cram himself against me all night or risk falling off.

In other words, I probably don't need the anti-freakout pills anymore. I'm supposed to take 1-2 every night as needed but I would be just a puddle on the floor if I did that.

I'm just hoping that there's enough air flow under the eaves when it heats up again. That's why I moved it out in the first place. But oh boy is it ever louder by the door! Something about the angle to the window, I guess? The road noise was unbearable. It hasn't gotten any quieter but it bothers me much less under the eaves.

Someone is doing construction maybe a half mile directly in front of me as I sit at my desk. Speaking of loud intrusive noises. I cannot wait until I'm able to live in my very own house in a quiet place. I'll just peacefully fantasize about moving over there by loading up my trailer each day and driving over and unloading it. Mmmmm. Yes, very nice. Ooh, it's a good triangular house.

Now I want to make weird animal heads out of metal and weird stuff to hang up like those mounted deer heads. That would be AWESOME. Fun art project for me, eh? Like my ongoing lamp-making situation.

There's a cardinal outside! I haven't seen one of those here before. Look out for the bobcat, cardinal! Though the barred owl has been eating all the little critters, so maybe the bobcat has relocated to easier hunting grounds. Twice in the past week the barred owl has swooped down right outside my office window at night to eat the mice that run between the woods and the house, scaring the heck out of me both times. First there's a rush of ammonia out of nowhere, then there's some sudden loud hooting that seems to be coming from inside the room. Gaaaaaah!

Some mourning doves were doing something in the yard when we went out today, too. Or possibly that neighbor cat was messing with them? I don't know. We went out, there was a ruckus on the ground, two birds flew away, and the dog went crazy running around and sniffing everything. Could also have been a hawk that had caught one of the mourning doves, though they seem big for a hawk. I heard them calling after, though. The mourning doves, not the hawk.

Isn't life just scintillating around here? I know! I also moved a round rug from one room to the other!

It's okay, the more writing I'm doing, the less interesting life is, so it's all a good sign. And I keep completely forgetting to drink my tea! And then it gets cold! Can you imagine? Dude.

I looked at too many timber framed A-frame designs and I can tell you this: they are all badly proportioned. The ceilings are far too high. The rooms will be uncomfortable to sit in, like you're in the bottom of a bucket. And definitely they'll be drafty and impossible to heat. We don't normally hang around in rooms with twenty foot ceilings for a reason, especially in colder climates.

I'm so sore from heaving that mattress all over creation (off the frame, from bedroom to writing room and back to bedroom, on the frame, off the frame, back on the frame) that I can hardly put my hands on the keyboard, which might be another factor in the non-writing. Though I sure managed to drivel on here forever, huh?

Fine. ONE SCENE. I'm on it.

Saturday, July 15, 2017


Oof! I'm so tired! I'm tired deep down. I finished the first draft of my novel yesterday, 75k words in two weeks and two days, which explains why I'm flipping EXHAUSTED. That also includes two major road trips to farflung ends of Maine and one day off, last Sunday.

I am wrecked.

But! I'm very happy to have finished the draft. I have a lot of work to do still, obviously--it's just a first draft. I need to go back and flesh out my main character much more, especially in the beginning, and make sure that fundamental drive is there. You know, the one that will make the whole thing go? And there's a part I need to swap out, but I know what needs to go in there. I might do that today while it's fresh in my mind.

I am thrilled to discover I can do this quickly once I have the essentials in my mind. Ugh, all the rewriting is such a slog! It's all I've done for ages!

So here is how to do it:

1. Main character must have a huge drive toward a goal and no way to attain it.
2. Main character must have AGENCY in what she does and cause what happens to her.
3. Dominoes. Everything has to cause the next thing. Even if that is a revelation of new information.

Agency, goal, dominoes.

I don't know if I learned this at school, but I certainly learned it during school. I'm not sure what exactly I learned at school, which is not to say I didn't learn anything, just that it's so well assimilated that I don't know what it is anymore. Bluh? No idea. I could go back and read all my notes from all the craft talks and that would tell me.

Honestly I think I learned the most from studying all the books closely. What did they do and how and why and what worked and what didn't? Write that down and articulate it clearly and learn from it.

In my final review thing, in the little fishbowl room, one thing I said as far as goals was that I wanted to figure out whether all my old drafts were worth fighting with or whether I should just write new things. I think both! But the boggy nature of old drafts is exhausting, as is writing new ones. Basically I'm just worn out by all of this! But that's because I'm doing eight or ten hours a day of writing some days. Some days two. Yesterday I did a lot.

Also the parts based on reality can pretty well suck. I think it's because I'm thinking about that and not about storytelling. It starts to read like somebody's boring hiking blog. I'm not sure how to integrate that stuff into real writing. I mean, when you're out somewhere, say driving from point A to point B, you're not really thinking primarily about that drive. You're all wrapped up in your inner thoughts and what's going on in your life. The drive is such a distant fourth or fifth or twentieth in importance in that scene. It's like writing descriptions of the inside of the car. Yes, it's there, but NOBODY CARES.

In other words, nobody cares about the scenery or any of the technical aspects of things except as they pertain to the story. So the last block of writing needs to get that part fixed. If it's not relevant to the story, leave it the heck out. I think I'm trying to be true to the scene or something.

That said, I don't want to say it's a desert when it's a forest or whatever. I'm glad I went on those trips. Ugh, Flagstaff Lake! I need it so much! I didn't get to use it at all!

There's an excellent awful historical bullying thing uncovered in the book. I find it exceedingly compelling. One of the things about being this character's age (18 and not going to college) is that you start to find out that adults have these stupid ugly pasts that nobody told you about and you've been going around treating them like solid reliable people all this time. Which makes you feel like you've been duped.

I like watching someone find out that adults are just people who are trying to act like adults and be responsible. They don't know until they know! It's one of the big turning points of that age.

Oh! I also have to rewrite to change the track of these other kids who really screw things up. I was suddenly remembering only yesterday about these freshman girls I went to college with. I was about six years older I think? Because I had left and come back. And they just suddenly discovered around Halloween (they were 18) that they had these bodies that would get them a lot of attention. It was gross and upsetting to me at the time, and I told them so, to see them suddenly objectifying themselves and using that to manipulate people. I kept saying, "You're a person!" and things like that. They didn't get it. I couldn't explain it. We had a whole conversation that I remember in the dorm. And then they went on running around half naked and enjoying how it made everyone jump.

It's such an odd thing. I think it's been nagging at me since then, since 1991. There are lots of articles out there about this now, about these girls that age who go and take off their clothes in public. It's so interesting psychologically, because it means one thing to them, various forms of empowerment and whatnot, but it means something else entirely to the ravening hordes who watch them, and there are all these other consequences. Like my old neighbor who was in one of those gone wild videos and whenever employers Google her, that's what comes up, so she doesn't get the job. Anyway I've been reading the articles to try to figure out this other character, not the main one. Her friend.

There are so many different ways of acting out to test the waters of adult life.

I really enjoyed the challenge of writing this draft, oh boy! I had it figured out in my head (and written down) beforehand, the outline of it in general, though that changed and I ended it before the point where I had planned to end it.

Really it was all about sticking to the chair for the requisite hours per day. If you put me in a comfortable chair in front of a laptop every day, you will get a book, apparently. This chair! What a great thing it is. With its ridiculous sporty race car wheels. And it's red. Red! And so comfortable. Made by Sealy, the mattress people. It came with a little block of the foam padding with their name on top in case I ever forget. I keep it on the desk and squeeze it and watch it reinflate, like a stress ball.

Between my awesome chair and the loss of my job and the habit my job gave me of coming to sit in this chair in this office every day for many hours without fail, it seems I have a system figured out.

There's finishing a first draft, and finishing a book completely, though. That's the next step. HUP HUP.

Friday, July 7, 2017

Sky rollerblading loyal wolfman boyfriend for the win

I watched Jupiter Jones on the fourth to help the animals not freak out from fireworks. It worked very well! But also: OH BOY!!!

I would strongly advise you to see this movie before reading any further, because I'm probably going to spoil the heck out of it.

First of all, Jupiter herself is a terrific heroine, a fish out of water who adapts and figures things out and overcomes. The Wachowskis said they always start with Dorothy in Oz, and that makes perfect sense. Jupiter is Dorothy in Oz for sure.

But Toto is a six foot one inch utterly gorgeous wolf/human hybrid shaped like Channing Tatum, which is to say, he moves in this wonderful way. Like a dancer, I guess. He's a dancer, isn't he? This guy knows how to move. You can't take your eyes off him.

So then he's on these sky rollerblades and flying spaceships and having shootouts and beating up dinosaurs, and he keeps on crashing in and saving Jupiter from situations where the evil jerks have been lying to her and she's doing exactly the right thing except it turns out she's not because they lied. Ah!

She beats up the last guy herself. It's utterly awesome.

Also she falls out of the sky about a million times. This is such a vertical movie!

There are all kinds of fabulous aliens and in the end, Jupiter herself saves the world. And then Caine, the wolf guy, saves her. He keeps on having to rollerblade through space toward a destination he can't possibly reach. Ahhhh!

And then at the end, she has managed to negotiate to get him (and Sean Bean) back their ACTUAL WINGS. And then they fly off into the sky. Fabulous! Glorious! Amazing!

I watched it again today. It seemed much shorter and made much more sense. Also I kept having to exercise, meaning run on the trampoline, or do this step thing I'm supposed to do for my knees. (It's a step aerobics step. I have to do this: step up, step down. Repeat. Exciting, no?)

I finally stopped going down stairs sort of sideways to save my knees, with the result that they're getting much better very fast. Wearing shoes at my desk seems to help, too. Who can possibly know the ways of knees?

What else? Oh! My local NaNo person asked if I was doing Camp NaNo, and I was like, "Huh? What?" as I was just back from school. And then I had this idea, and I drove around and researched it really fast, up by Sugarloaf, and then I started writing at perfectly normal speed, and then I started writing more and more hours per day. And the upshot is, I'm at 42k words already.

It was flying along and then I wrote this sort of iffy part today, but I know how to deal with that: pretend it doesn't exist and keep going. Then I'll wake up in the middle of the night with a solution, no doubt. Or I'll think of one while writing this.

Very odd to be writing 8k and 10k words per day. Physically it's fine. I just don't usually know all of the "what comes next" that fast. But this book keeps planning itself out in my head when I'm not looking. I appreciate that very much, book!

Today I managed to get more steps than words for the first time since I started the book. 6205 words, 7791 steps. Jeez, that makes me want to write another 1500 words, but that way lies madness. Anyway it's almost midnight.

You can credit the steps to Mr. Channing Tatum and his zooming around on space rollerblades.

I don't think I would want to watch other movies just to see him. It's that he's a DOG PERSON in this that makes him so awesome. I mean, he's all loyal and wonderful in all the ways that make dogs so wonderful. So although he's highly decorative and compelling to the eyes, I could easily see that turn awful if he was being or playing a jerkface. Which would ruin Caine for me. So no thank you.

I will happily watch this movie every day if that's what it takes for me to commit aerobic exercise. Sure! Why not! Or my other go-to similar space opera, The Fifth Element. What others are there, even? I should think about this.

I realized forty thousand words into my novel that it was playing on Anna and Elsa from Frozen in a whole lot of ways, so that's very funny. I only realized it when a character pulled a Frozen dvd off a shelf. Ha! I love that. Nice one, subconscious! Their names are even similar. It's someone else who shuts herself off from the world for safety, though. See, thematic.

Today I went out and bought seven yogurts and seven boxes of tissues. Two fezzes of cat litter and two boxes of Wild Berry Zinger and two cans of cleanser and two royal blue towels and two blue camping pads. One step aerobics step. I really hope my knees don't rise up and throw a revolution against me tomorrow. They have to get stronger so they will stop hurting. It's a thing!

Anyway I have to go up near Katahdin to explore and research for the other end of the book. It'll be awesome! I need other resources, too, but maybe they're in the library. I should go there and look, eh?

School is coming for me. It's all going to start at once. I have big plans to get so many things done first, most of them books that need to be put into order and sent on their merry ways. It's infinitely easier for me to write whole new novel drafts than work on rewriting old ones, of course, but the way this is going...I'm not going to say in case it makes it not happen. Lalalalalalalalalala! Anyway let me just say I'm happy with how this is going so far and looking forward to the rest of it. My poor character went through some of the worst stuff ever in the past few days and is about to come into her own whether she wants to or not, kicking and screaming if necessary.

I just figured out how to fix that section I didn't like. Aha! Thank you, sky rollerblading loyal wolfman boyfriend from space! Oh boy, that character! He's like if you mixed my dog with a hot guy. Also, I seriously suspect his ability to move like that makes the whole character, because he's so unselfconsciously physically comfortable in a way that animals are and we lesser humans aren't. I only usually see this in athletes, but then again, I never see dancers. So there you go!

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Misery loves more misery

I am actually not miserable, because I got AWESOME NEWS on the job front. Hurray! Two jobs! Happiness loves more happiness!

But I am miserable because of the stupid heat and humidity. It was 88 yesterday and today with high humidity and a million biting bugs, so you can do the math. = BAD. Do not like!

When it gets super hot, I won't cook, so I don't eat, because I'm not allowed to eat bread or whatever, even though sometimes I totally forget and go eat a lot of pizza, and then I feel like I'm going to die for three days, so then I don't do it again for a long time. When there are no sandwiches, what easy fast cold food is there that takes no effort because I'm not doing anything because it's hot?

Well, today I made a massive salad out of irritation with that lying crook, the attorney general. Oh my goodness. He's a liar and a gaslighter and a racist and a misogynist. Half of those he would admit proudly, too. YUCK. I hate his little pink goblin face.

I was languishing in front of a fan and doing absolutely nothing but watch that testimony when it irritated me beyond endurance and I got up and chopped up everything in sight and made it into a the aforementioned massive salad. Which I then ate up, every bit. Yum.

Salads aren't as good without apples. I really like an apple in a salad. Plus bell pepper, cucumber, chicken, and whatever else is around.

I don't know what I'm supposed to eat before going on the plane. I might make a mess of eggs with horseradish cheese in them, on the understanding that I won't be hungry again for a very long time. (It's true.)

Things I did today out of sheer irritation even though it was too bloody hot to move:

vacuumed the whole house
moved the tv so I could get into the yarn trunk
trawled the yarn trunk for travel yarn
picked out a pattern
took the dog for a walk through tick-infested woods and down the black fly infested road
changed the sheets

Irritation apparently motivates me quite effectively.

I'm having yogurt for a late dinner because I'm still not going to cook anything. Forget it. Though in retrospect, rice sounds nice.

Ever since I took those ridiculously huge doses of antibiotics FOR NOTHING on the word of a nurse who didn't know what she was doing, I've had to eat very plain food like rice or yogurt or fruit or my innards get very upset with me. I hope that things will calm down eventually. Maybe they'll even forgive me for the pizza!

Oh boy, it was good, though. At least the first two pieces that I had for dinner.

Anyway the dog loved our walk and the house looks very nice.

I'm on a mission toward increased fitness, though my mission has to battle extreme desire to do nothing at all physically. I mean I do tons of stuff, just I prefer to be sitting in the comfy chair with an iced beverage while I do those things.

Anyway, that's the plan. Egregious sigh of dismay. I'm hoping to use the pool at school, in my absurd bathing suit with the red and white striped cups and the navy blue dress part. It's not exactly low profile, but it's on MY terms.

So that's my day. Incredibly uncomfortable weather and annoying pests, not to mention the bugs (ha ha) resulted in a tremendous amount of work getting done. For which hurray!

I want a bath, but not a hot bath, and not a cold bath, and also not a warm bath because those are just cold baths waiting to happen. Maybe what I want is a shower, come to think of it.

Meanwhile I keep remembering about job thing and yippeeing to myself. I get these little jolts of excitement. Eep! Yay!

Maybe I can reintroduce my stealth fitness methods to my life, like the rule that I have to do jumping jacks while the kettle boils for tea, plus standing up at my desk. Ugh...I have no desire to do any of those things. Where is my get up and go? Did the antibiotics kill that too? I've been downing tons of probiotics every day, both the gummies (which survive best into the gut) and the yogurt. I suspect my meds need to be tweaked, by which I mean lowered, because I'm mellow to the point of zombification now that the severe pressure is off. MFA is over, training for Online Job is over, I'm hired officially, and now Traditional Job has hired me also.

It still won't be as much work as old Online Job plus MFA. Or like in the past when I worked full time in an office AND did a full four iterations of Online Job, back before they hired me on full time.

A couple days ago I wrote a story about that whole thing blowing up, how that horrible lady made me change my name and manipulated everyone and bullied everyone and then turned vicious on me when I got sick and got the full time Online Job, and got me pushed out early. Boy was she a piece of work. And I mean, from the beginning. All the signals were there. I just pushed past because I needed the job.

I do that a lot! I'll put up with badness for my own ends. It's kind of a form of not listening to yourself. I've been realizing I am super bad about that. I don't know when I'm hungry or thirsty because I learned from a very early age that what I wanted didn't matter. I'm not even aware of those signals. It takes feeling woozy to notice I haven't eaten all day, for instance.

Luckily I have tea! I want tea, boy oh boy. But I have to eat first, or it will make me throw up. So I do eat breakfast. And then I want another cup of tea so bad in the afternoon, so I have to eat again. Dinner, however, often goes forgotten.

I suppose being more active would make me hungrier, too. YAWN. It would be easier if I could go outside, but thirty seconds out there and I'm covered with black flies, whose bites leave insanely itchy welts the size of quarters. Now the mosquitoes are starting, too. GOOD TIMES. Frelling Maine, I tell you what.

Today I wondered why black flies don't live further south of here, like in Pennsylvania. They seem to be a northern thing. Do they not like the heat? If so, maybe we'll be rid of them, because it's hotter here every year.

Though it's lovely and cool right now. 70!

One of the fun things about Maine is talking to cashiers about our perfect temperature. We all agree on 65, in my limited survey. I think that's awesome. 65 is cool enough to wear long pants, while 70 isn't. For me. And other cold-adapted life forms.

It's supposed to get down to 52 tonight. Yes, please! And 45 tomorrow night. Oh boy!

Maybe I actually can have a bath. Glory!

This yarn I'm taking with is fine and soft, sage green. I'm going to knit some pretty lace for a scarf. Ooh, must remember stitch markers, thanks for reminding me! I was afraid my knitting days would be on pause because I crushed my right middle finger's last segment (what are finger segments called?) pretty good today putting the lawn mower into the shed. The mower has an end section that tilts up 90 degrees to self-propel. Well, you can lock it, or you can forget it's not locked and use the handle to push the mower up a steep ramp, upon which it will slam down that 90 degrees and crush whatever digit happens to be in the way. It's not broken or anything, and didn't damage the joint, but it sure hurt a lot. I thought it would stop my knitting but that seems to be okay after all. And writing with a pen. Both useful activities!

Stay safe, little bunnies! Eat your salads and drink your water and do your jumping jacks while the kettle is on to boil. I'll certainly try--cue exhausted eye roll--but presumably it'll get easier each time. Oh YAWN!