writer

December 7, 2014

Weed be gone!

I am torn. For as long as I can remember understanding what pot, weed, marijuana, is and used for I have had no inclination to try. In fact I have always wanted to stay away from it because I always respected my mother and her ability to say “I’ve never tried pot.” I don’t know why that meant something to me. Maybe it’s because with all of the social pressure and standing against the stream made me respect her. When I think about it now she probably never had any opportunities due to the fact she was VERY religious and her whole youth was either church or family. So her social circle was pretty fucking small.

As I’ve gotten older (and have mentioned on previous posts) I find my friends to mean more to me than family. I think it stems from wanting what I can’t have. I am notorious for feeling that way. It’s really bad. And now one of my friend who I treasure more than most and means so much to me, used to feel the same about weed as I had. But it appears that this is no longer the case for him. And now I find my own perception faltering.

My husband has said that my opinion changed because my last hold out companion changed his tune and now I have to follow the flock. And… He’s right.

It’s funny to me that I went all through my teenage years being bombarded with warnings of “peer pressure” and never once did I experience it. Not fucking once. Get into my late twenties and I have had another close friend push drugs into me. (I say drugs because that’s what they refer to them as. No joke.)

In the end I find my perspective changing. Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe I’ve built it up in my head to be something else entirely. Maybe I devoured the anti-drug propaganda so much that it has destroyed every ounce of free will. I don’t know. All I know is… I feel pressured to do something I’ve fought so long not to do. And yes, weed isn’t bad. It’s nowhere near the other harmful things that destroy your mind and body. I get it. Weed is barely a blip in the radar. For me it’s about the principle and obviously they’re failing.

November 21, 2014

The Striptease of Writer’s Digest, “Don’t touch the dancers.”

As much as I love Writer’s Digest they are in fact the devil.  Yes.  The dark lord from the pits of hell.  They are very persistent with their e-mails and I find myself opening almost everyone lured by the subject line or the hope of getting published.  Here is the thing, my novel isn’t anywhere near ready, and the ones that are the most enticing are “Get an agent to read your first 10 pages” or “2nd draft critique” or “Query Letter critique.”  Two of them also bill the chance of the agent doing the workshop “might ask for more!” I doubt it ever happens, but could.  It’s mainly a way of selling more of the workshops.

My husband pointed out that they have an amazing business model and they really do.  They are playing on peoples hopes and dreams.  It’s equivalent to “talent” agencies that charge a fee to represent you in the hope to “make it big!”  It’s horrible.  Now I don’t think that Writer’s Digest is at all malicious.  I think they’re truly offering “opportunities” but whether or not it goes anywhere is unlikely.  And that has nothing to do with Writer’s Digest, that’s just the nature of the beast.

I have to keep repeating, everyday, every morning, every minute, to be a writer one needs to WRITE, not sit back and dream of seeing one’s book on a shelf.  That’s not how it works.  It takes time, dedication, and persistence.  Even when confronted with adversity external or (most likely) internal, one pushes past keeping in mind their ultimate goal.  And once that manuscript is gleaming and has so much promise will these offers from Writer’s Digest be worthwhile.  Until that time they are like a stripper to me.  They are pretty and flashy, dancing seductively from a platform with no potential to touch.  Once I put in for a lap dance, maybe the dancer will like me and things will be different.

November 4, 2014

Cemetery Birthday Bash

This is the last birthday of my twenties. In just one more year and it’s all down hill. To get the ball rolling the common theme of this years trip to London has bee death and the after life. For instance I went on a ghost walking tour of London and that was exciting and today I went tromping through a grave yard in the pitch of night, but let me explain.

The man I claim for my want and desire to be a writer is C. S. Lewis. After I read “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” in the third grade I’ve wanted to be an author. Since then I’ve read all of the Chronicles of Narnia and some of his religious studies but… Those are not my cup of tea considering I’m an atheist. (Haven’t always been.) Regardless of my dogmatic views I value the man more than anything. So for my birthday I wanted to take a day trip to Oxford. It’s where Lewis studied, taught, and lived. We went on a bus tour which was lovely up until it began to rain. To escape the wet weather I forced my husband into the shelter of Blackwells book shop where I bought a journal he swears will sit unused and two autobiographies I can’t get in the states. I had intended to buy another copy of “the lion…” But my husband asked “how many copies would that make?” “4.” Yes that’s excessive but it was purchased in Oxford! Whatever.

Finally I ate dinner at the pub he, Tolkien, and others of the Inklings met every Tuesday to discuss their literary works. And serendipitously it just so happens to be Tuesday. And to top it a off, the table I chose at random was 12, which holds no significant meaning to Lewis as it does to me. (It’s my lucky number.) After our meal I was ready to go. It was getting dark and my plan to visit his grave seemed like a pipe dream. So, I accepted the pub visit to be it, but my husband attempting to make my birthday special offered to walk to the cemetery where he had been buried. I warned him that it would be a long trip but he assured me that it’d be fine.

Before we had gotten even a quarter of the way there it was night, since it gets dark at 4:30 in the United Kingdom. Fun. And hoofing it at our quickest speed wasn’t cutting it so luckily we caught a cabby and he took us to the Holy Trinity churchyard. He dropped us off and backed out the long single lane drive.

Using the light of my phone we searched the cemetery reading every headstone. After going to every single market it wound up being the final one. Isn’t that typical? I said a few silent words thanking the man for giving me a dream and held back the tears. There’s nothing more than my husband loves than to see me cry. He’s a freak. (Says the guy who wanted to spend his birthday in a cemetery searching for the grave of a man he never met.)

At the end of it we are both exhausted, but it was fantastic and a trip I won’t soon forget.

March 27, 2014

Every journey… small step… you know the drill

It’s been three days since I first stated that I would begin working on a chapter at a time on my lunch break, and already I have completed my revisions of chapter one.  Now, that’s not anything amazing because prior to this assignment I had edited the shit out of it.  This is just another once over. 

I took some advice and printed out the entire chapter and began with reading it over and marking my edits.  And though I had my doubts that seeing it on paper would be any different than seeing it on a screen I was proven wrong, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.  It’s almost like I have two very different personalities while looking at a screen and looking at a printed document.  While at a computer I am the writer, splashing my thoughts into text and seeing where my images take me.  But looking at it in black and white on a crisp sheet of paper I was Mr. Critique and approached my project with the same attitude I give to anyone who happens to hand me their work and wants notes.  I was harsh but fair all at the same.

After finishing up with my handy pen work (I have to note that it looked like I took a razor blade to my paper and it was bleeding) I spent my lunch entering my changes. The feeling of accomplishment is truly surprising.  I’ve only finished one chapter, but the fact that I stuck to it and achieved my goal is where my pride resides. 

On to chapter two!