So over the weekend I identified for sure my two loaded questions: how are you? and how’s your writing going?

The first one I appreciate, but find annoying to answer; the second one I find aggravating to no end.

I always lie when I answer the first question and never reveal how I’m actually doing so I don’t have to elaborate. The second one I usually get tricked into revealing too much than I meant to about what I’m working on so I try to avoid altogether by either changing the subject or now recently just awkwardly telling the interrogator I don’t really tell people about my writing process.


I’m scared to eat in front of you.

I try to think of something witty to say every time you come near me, but I end up with a pounding heart and a frozen mouth. I’m hoping you can’t tell how nervous you make me, but sometimes all it takes is for a little pink to show to give me away. And after all this time, months and months, seeming like years and years, yet like nothing at all, you still make me feel this way. I want to stop before I sound like a repetitive pop love song, but it doesn’t seem possible. So I keep going, day after day, hoping you will come over, yet not really, not wanting to talk to you, but hoping you can read my mind, that my sign of no attraction is a sign of attraction. I don’t want to have to spell it out for you, I just want you to already know. I make no sense at all, but I’m hoping that makes absolute sense to you.


in fashion

Screw it all. You try to eat healthy and exercise to stay in shape and then you lose out on writing time. You try to maximize your writing time by setting goals and meeting a word count every day and then you lose out on staying in shape. It’s one or the other. You can’t please everybody or you’ll turn into a donkey. I’ll just get fat and TB and write the best novel I have written in a long time and then croak and only become famous posthumously because I couldn’t do it all. That’s in right now, isn’t it?


I know you can keep a secret.

There are times when I sit down to write and just want to scream my head off, not because I have writer’s block (even though sometimes I want to react like that too when I do), but because all of a sudden I am thinking about something that irks me like this morning when I was unable to disable Skype from my email. It’ll be something out of my control for the moment and it’ll just bother me and bother me until either I figure it out or turn to writing and just want to scream my head off.

I think this feeling is akin to wanting to win every time you do something that has a win or lose outcome or wanting to do something new right the very first time you do it. I suppose I have those flaws too now that I think about it. The perfectionist in me won’t stop clawing at me like a grizzly bear protecting its cubs from a hunter. I can even play dead and it won’t go away. (It’s very possible I saw The Revenant today.) The stubborn in me becomes defensive and I lash out, regretting it immediately. My thoughts are not just screaming at this point–they want to be let out and do a Show and Tell until understanding is achieved. Chicken would be involved.

My character doesn’t accept defeat. That one is a strength and a weakness. (My, that would be a fun interview question answer now wouldn’t it?)  My character keeps her mouth shut when she should have said something, but there were so many thoughts running through her brain it was easier to stay silent because she didn’t want to confuse anyone even though mainly she’s just confusing herself. And hurting herself. And sometimes dragging others with her unintentionally by remaining quiet.

I like to solve problems, but when there’s something I can’t fix within the time limit, let the banshee loose and rip up the cash.


welcome to writer’s block, baby

There are times I want to leave where I am and go live somewhere far away from rules. I want to escape to some exotic island where it’s sunny most of the time, peaceful, and I can do whatever I want without worrying about paying the bills, driving from place to place, and not feel judged for doing whatever I want. No thoughts about planning for the future. That’s not allowed on this island.


Which is it?

I burned my hand this morning at work so tonight I had an emergency Eminem party. I think that’s a pretty good reward for my left hand that I had to leave out the shower like I’m the Statue of Liberty or something. Oh wait. I think she had her right hand up. Well, that’s okay because you know what I mean. There’s a red mark where the hot water burned me. Too bad there wasn’t any aloe around, but at least there was cold water I could wash it with. And that’s not all the burn left behind. Now I’m left wondering if this burn is supposed to be some sort of life metaphor related to what’s currently going on in my life. Or maybe I just need to be more careful. 😛


dangerous mind games i play with myself

How many times have I told you your worth is not measured by how flawless your skin looks or how symmetrical your face is? Yet a myriad of thoughts and questions run through your mind every time someone is looking at you while speaking. Perhaps the same thoughts and questions are a nuisance to the person facing you. Perhaps not.

Chances are they are questioning themselves on their appearance. If they are, you have nothing to worry about. If they are not, more power to them. But who are we kidding? Of course they are worried about your perception of them. So why do you still feel self-conscious? Do I need to slap your face every time you think like this? Is that it? Do you need aversion therapy?

Pull yourself together! Or maybe I need to bring out a cat o’ nine tails. That’ll learn you.

One week later…


How many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about what you look like?

But you know I do because inside this terrarium everything’s shallow.


welcome to my twisted brain

After watching The Other Woman again today, I wanted one of two things: either to get married so I could get cheated on so I could become friends with my husband’s mistresses or to build a house with an all glass window room (I know, this is not the best description ever) where I would put a table right where the sun would blast me every morning as I drank my coffee. All of this just so I know what it’s like and then it’s on to the next experience I could potentially write about. Don’t judge me.


Crazy Writer Time #3: You Gotta Eat!

I still feel the same way about relationships as I did a little over a year ago with the exception of now taking it down a notch where I don’t even desire one anymore, it has just chiseled down to if it happens it happens, if it doesn’t it doesn’t and that’s a wrap. All I care about is writing. Good or bad words, just getting that ink on paper. And moving forward, wherever that is.

Last year I also went through a life-changing experience and said I would keep my followers updated on this crazy writer process. Well it’s time for another update. Because my gut told me so and you’re not supposed to ignore your gut. So there.

There is no clear path like med school or law school, but like med school or law school, there are many different kinds of writers you could be. And even though writing involves a lot of sitting, you’d be surprised at how exhausting it can be to get words on a page to make sense in an entertaining fashion. So you have to make a choice: get a day job and work on your creative pieces at night or get a full-time writer job and work on your creative pieces whenever you have some free time when your brain isn’t thinking about work.

There is no guarantee you will publish anything of significance and heck, maybe you will only be known for your pieces posthumously. But what good would that do for you? As Checkers always says, “you gotta eat!”

I suppose it all depends on what’s important to you and what makes you happy, blah blah blah. Either way, this ain’t no easy life, but at the same time, I wouldn’t have it any other way.