Pseudo Loser

November was National Novel Writing Month. During NaNoWriMo, hundreds of thousands of hopeful novelists representing countries all over the globe endeavored to write a fifty-thousand word novel in thirty days. I was one of the hopeful.

This was actually my second NaNoWriMo. Last year I didn't get past the registration. I didn't read the email pep-talks the organizers and other writers sent. I didn’t write anything—not one word. I rationalized it away with my surgery and recovery, but truth be told—I forgot about it until midmonth—and when I finally did remember, I had no idea where to even start the process of writing a fifty-thousand word story. What on earth was I thinking?! Rather than admit I was woefully out of my element, I decided surgery and recovery were much more acceptable reasons excuses…and they might even garner sympathy if told in the right circles—not a writers circle for sure—but perhaps in a non-writer circle.

This year, I pre-registered for NaNoWriMo. I eagerly anticipated the November 1st kick-off. In preparation, I read the pep-talk emails from last year—they had been sitting unread, in my NaNo mailbox. They were inspiring. They were timely. They offered awesome strategies and encouragement. I grew teary-eyed thinking, I can do this.

The pep talks this year were equally awesome and inspiring. I already had a working outline, notes and ideas, and almost 10K words—they would not be counted in my NaNoWriMo word count. I was motivated. I was inspired. I was ready. I thought I was in a pretty good starting position. Adding 50K words would make my work in progress (WIP) a respectable 60K and give me plenty of material to rework and tighten.  I don't intentionally over-write, but in re-reading, I will often find ways to say the same thing with fewer words (writing “tight”). And there are always ideas or subplots that just don’t belong—especially when the story takes on a life of its own and does not want to be told the way originally envisioned.

In order to write 50K words in thirty days, the daily goal is 1,667 words. It turns out on my laptop, which is defaulted to 12-font Times New Roman, 1,667 words is roughly 3 pages. That’s a totally do-able goal—even if a day or two is missed, playing catch up is still very doable. This will be a piece of cake…or so I thought.

NaNoWriMo has a few “rules” writers are encouraged to follow. I broke every rule.

Rule Number One: Write with Consistency and Discipline.
Consistency and Discipline have never been staples in my life, so I was pretty sure from the start I would not be following this particular rule. Not a problem. Many NaNo-ites write inconsistently. They might write a few hundred words on days they work their day jobs or take care of their families. On catch up days, when they are off from their regular job, or someone else, like a neighbor or family member, has charge of the kids, they might advance their story by several thousand words. Because I lack discipline, and knowing my schedule and writing habits, I planned on being a burst writer. As part of that plan, I took the last week of November off to celebrate my birthday at my Moms house in Florida, and work on my novel. Mom goes to bed when the sun goes down, and does not have Internet or TV—there would be few if any distractions. I envisioned pulling all-nighters reminiscent of my college days. Not only would NaNoWriMo be a piece of cake—it would be a fun piece of cake.
Rule Number Two: Silence your Inner Critic.
Not only did my Inner Critic voice her thoughts, she did so constantly—when I wrote, when I read, when I plotted and planned, when I experienced creativity block, and when I thought attempted to think about non-novel ideas—she was vocal even when I dreamt. She Who Would Not be Silenced became non-affectionately known as MICE (My Internal Critical Editor). Not only would she not be quite, she ran treadmills in my head…Going nowhere…Non-stop.

Rule Number Three: Just get the words written.This proved to be impossible for me. I rewrote my pre-NaNo words at least six times. I lost major word count each and every time. Rather than moving forward, I spent valuable writing time losing ground. Not exactly the forward movement I had envisioned. Granted I was tightening up the work, and that’s always a good thing—except during NaNoWriMo.

Rule Number Four: Stockpile Creativity Block Busters.
Creativity Block, sometimes known as Writers Block, will hit. It’s a fact. The pep-talks in last years NaNo Mail warned me: Be armed and ready. I read several wonderful posts on how to handle Creativity Block. Too bad I failed to heed the excellent advice they gave: If you are stuck in a scene, move to another scene and worry about connecting them later. If the words are just not coming, do something different. Go for a walk, read a book, watch a movie, take a power nap, play with your dog—what ever—just stop trying to force it. I forgot this and sat staring at a blank computer screen for three hours one night. Almost in tears, I finally remembered to walk away, then come back and try again. I was still blocked. I finally broke through when I remembered there are eleven other months in which to iron out wrinkles and fix problems. I free texted a different scene. It worked. I wrote a second scene. And I wrote a third scene. In a matter of a couple of hours I was able to write several thousand words. Break-through success—I like that.

My goal was to finish my novel during November. I failed that goal. I had a specific genre in mind, but the novel refused to be written the way I originally envisioned it: as a 35-45K word Cozy Mystery—kind of a light-weight piece of fluff that you look forward to spending time with at the end of a long work day, or a vayca read while relaxing by the fire or on the beach. Pre-NaNo, I had been kindly informed  it was not a Cozy. It was more straight Mystery. Okay. I’m flexible I can change direction. I decided I would write a 50-60K word Mystery. (The word counts are rough industry averages.) However, my Novel intervened and she refused to be written as a Mystery. It seems she wants to be an Adventure.

NaNoWriMo is sort of a pseudo-contest. Winners are authors who cross the 50K word finish line before the clock strikes midnight November 30th. One of the reasons, it's a pseudo-contest is because the only prizes are the ones you purchase for yourself from the online store—that and the intrinsic knowledge that you have written a novel, and the experience you gain from completing a goal. I didn’t cross the winners finish line in this pseudo-contest, so I won’t be purchasing a “winner” t-shirt. But I don’t consider myself a loser either—I’m a pseudo-loser—one who has learned a lot about writing in the last thirty days.

And that, in and of itself, is a form of winning.

Love At First Viewing

Last year I stayed at Linda's house while I recuperated after surgery. Having nothing better to do, we watched a marathon of "The Closer" episodes.  I was easily hooked. Incidentally, she's also the one that got me hooked on "Monk." Now, with the passing of TC, we are watching "Major Crimes" which I love. The only problem for us is both "The Closer" and "Major Crimes" cut into our long-standing Monday night Spades game. Linda solves that little inconvenience by recording the shows and we watch them on Tuesday or Thursday. This week she introduced me to another show she recorded: "Revolution."

It was love at first viewing.

I love the symbolism.
The "o" in revolution is the power button symbol--the power that has been lost seemingly forever. Ahh, but forever is far too long a time. The title of the show is "Revolution." The flickering  "R" leadings to a play on words: evolution and revolution. We know both are occurring 15 years PTSF (post-traumatic-solar flare). There has been a world-wide power grid loss, in which all electrical power ceased to exist. Humankind is in the process of evolving--only time will tell into what. We see the stage being set for a revolution in the camps of good (our unlikely heroine is Charlie, a virginal 18 year old leader of a ragtag group I think of as Charlie's Angles) and evil (the betraying General Monroe). Interestingly, General Monroe has orderly tent camps reminiscent of civil war camps.

I also love the characters. I can't remember their names--but I love them anyway.  In my head I've renamed almost all of them:

Charlie--the daughter of a peaceful man murdered. Her initial quest is one in which she will find and save her kidnapped brother. Subsequently, they, and the ragtag band of freedom fighters they assemble (Charlie's Angels), will fight the forces of darkness and oppression known as General Monroe's Men, and save the world in the ultimate quest: the march against evil. The added bonus will be avenging the death of her Father.

Uncle Stroh--(sorry, I'm a "Closer" fan--he will forever be Stroh to me)--is the flawed and reluctant hero dragged kicking and screaming into herodom. He may or may not have the third pendent--I believe he does have it as well as the knowledge of how it works.  (We know there are at least three pendents--maybe more--but not too many more as that would make them too accessible. They may also take on slightly different forms-two appear to be pendents, the third may be fashioned into a ring or a wall ornament, etc. Whatever form it is, we will recognize it--at least when it's glowing power is unleashed.)   Uncle Stroh also  has key inside information on General Monroe's past. Information which will lead Charlie's ragtag Angels to victory.

Daddy's BFF (aka GoogleBoy)--the most unlikeliest of heros--a wimpy, overweight, un-athletic man afraid of bees, but possessing loyalty and a heart of gold. He is intent on watching over Charlie, much to her chagrin. While she loves him for his fatherly care for her and her brother, she sees him as a liability, someone she will have to protect.  BFF is the current possessor of Daddy's pendent. His inner journey is one of courage. He will face death. He will be tested and found worthy. The assignments with which he has been tasked are twofold:  keep the pendent and Charlie safe, and find Daddy's Brother (Uncle Stroh).

LoverGirl--Daddy's love-interest after the death of Charlie's Mama. She is honor-bound to accompany Charlie and keep her safe on the quest--even through the resentment Charlie feels and expresses as only a teenager can do. Like all women, she fights for keeps and may fight dirty if thats what it takes. She has skills and knowledge that will have come in handy.  She and Charlie will form a bond as strong as the one between Charlie and her biological Mother.

Asthma Mom--keeper/guardian of the second pendent. She is a lookout--a sentry--for the Freedom Fighters.  Although she saved Charlie's Brother only to betray him, she's not a bad person, she just realizes Charlie's Brother can not jeopardize the Movement working against the forces of evil. She will redeem herself when she reunites Charlie and her kidnaped asthmatic brother. Later in the show, she will also face the same decision again: give up one for the safety of many. I believe the second time, against all odds, she will find a way to accomplish both.

General Monroe--Uncle Stroh's BFF (well, maybe Former BF--since he and Uncle Stroh have had a falling out and he is utilizing all of his manpower and resources to locate his former BFF--and not for a happy reunion). Monroe is evil and ego personified. He likely had something to do with the current stats of affairs (perhaps an experiment gone awry led to the loss of power)--at the very least, Monroe has used his insider knowledge, not to aide society, by to personally capitalize on, and profit from,  the situation. He is a sleaze-bag that will seemingly always get away with his exploits. However, he will ultimately be defeated--but not without an epic war--in the series finale years from now.  Even as the final credits role, a disturbing bit of information or innuendo will surface thereby paving the way for a sequel--or at least leave the viewers wondering if it could really happen...

Archer Non-Nate (aka ANN)--one of General Monroe's faithful few.  He is a high-ranking member of Monroe's men--perhaps even a member of Monroe's inner circle.  Non-Nate had been sent on an undercover mission: to find Charlie and bring her to Monroe alive. Non-Nate  appears to be in league with the devil-Monroe, which could explain the reason he saved Charlie twice in the premiere episode alone. However, that would be much too simple. I believe Non-Nate will actually be a mole for the Asthma Mom . I believe he has the fourth, unknown, power pendent.

And there you have it: my predictions for "Revolution."  We'll see how close--or far away--I am to the truth...

Window Cling Stick People

Have you ever bought those stick people window clings for your vehicle windows?

I have. In fact, I've bought them twice. I've bought both a girl to represent me and a dog to represent Bandit.  The problem is my windows are never "clean enough" to apply them and I forget I have them.

When the SUV is dirty, I think about washing it and...and I even do...(eventually)...but then it's too wet to apply the clings (the dryer at the car wash never gets my SUV completely dry, so I drive around and let the air finish the job I paid for).  By the time they are dry enough to apply the clings, I have forgotten why I'm driving around town in a freshly laundered SUV.

I have actually remembered I have the clings on a day when I have clean, dry windows. Unfortunately, by that time I've usually forgotten the "safe place" I placed the clings--so I wouldn't lose them between the time I bought them and I had clean, dry windows on which to install them. That would be  why I've bought them twice.   I've even toyed with the idea of washing the SUV, completing the air dry on a drive to the store to purchase a  third set of clings, and applying them in the store parking lot. But that would announce to the world--at least the world of the parking lot:

 I can't make the short trip back home with my memory intact. 

I justify my forgetfulness by rationalizing to myself:  I really prefer the Chinese Crested Window Nose Art on the inside portion of the windows.  After all, it's the original artwork of Bandit--my spoiled rotten baby!  Justification and Rationalization are two of my specialties. Another specialty is my ability to throughly spoil Bandit rotten.

BTW, I do give Bandit a  clean, blank canvas on which to create his masterpiece from time to time--I wouldn't want to stifle his creativity.

I usually wait until his masterpiece of the moment is so thick neither he nor I can see outside.  :~)

Over The Top--That's ME!!!! :~)

"OTT" (Over the Top) That's me. Yesterday was Spirit Day at the VA. The theme was "Pet Pride"--right up my alley. I made a modified "PetMum" complete with photo, streamers, and bling. OTT. I also blingged up a photo travel mug. OTT. I also took a Bandit Brag Book (everyday ott). I was set to razzel-dazzle with my awesome baby.


Arrived early to my first meeting. No one remembered Spirit Day. Went to my Ward. No one remembered Spirit Day. Went to my second meeting. No one remembered. Went to lunch and the Canteen (retail store). No one remembered.

In the entire hospital I saw NO ONE that remembered Spirit Day. I take that back--there were several Hawaiian shirts worn--last months Spirit Day theme.

Rather than take my PetMum off (it was pinned to a 3/4 sleeve lightweight Zebra print sweater over a lightweight purple top--picking up the purple and zebra theme of the PetMum--and I was burning up all day!) I wore it all day. It was my Jr High School "Odd Man Out" Dream come to life. Back then I would have been mortified, hidden it, and slunk to t hiding place for myself. Luckily for me I am sooooo much more mature now. ;~)

Not only did I embrace being the only one that remembered--I posed outrageously everytime someone asked about it--and now I'm brag-posting on FB! :~)

Okay, so maybe "mature" was a euphamusim. LOL

No Longer "Twisted"

I had my first colonoscopy yesterday--(yeah, I know I'm a couple of years overdue). Piece of  cake: that's what I had as my reward afterward--actually, it was a mini cupcake--thank you Sharon!!!

Although the prep was not a piece of cake--that's prohibited--it wasn't all bad: I had no cramping and no suddenly frantic dashes to the potty.  Of course, that may be due to the fact I didn't have to drink the dreaded "GoLYTELY®"  like we use at the VA. (Scott and White had me use "Dulcolax®" and "MiraLAX®.")  Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that I put myself on a liquid diet after Spades on Monday--several days ahead of schedule. Or maybe it's because I did "extra" prep--I had a reason other than torturing myself.  :~) Or maybe it was a combination of any or all the above.

On Tuesday, I vacillated between cancelling the procedure and going ahead with it when I realized this was the week of both Bunco AND Alicia's first time to ride in the Saint Patrick's Day Parade (she informed me months before I WOULD be in attendance).  During one of the vacillation periods I ate a handful of peanut butter filled pretzels, and that night I had a cup of ramen noodle soup--and feeling deprived, I  added a cup of mashed potato's as a bedtime snack. Mashed potato's are my stand-by comfort food.  I also decided for sure that I WAS going to go through with the procedure even though I had been looking for every opportunity to avoid it.

Because I didn't want to be playing Bunco DURING the bowel prep, I started it a night early--and did extra.   On Wednesday, after Choir Rehearsal,  I took four dulcolax, resumed  the strictly liquid diet, and drank 32 oz mirilax  in reduced calorie/reduced sugar apple juice (which is the ONLY time I drink juice made from concentrate---it's watered down). This is the normal first part of the prep--but because I would repeat it after Bunco, it was the "extra" I referred to earlier. The mirilax didn't alter the taste of the reduced sugar apple juice at all, and it didn't give me cramps like too much sugar will. So far, so good.

Thursday I remained on the liquid diet, and whilst my Bunco friends were enjoying taco salad, I sipped beef broth with garlic and yearned for ramen noodles. LOL

I waited until after Bunco to start the rest of the bowel prep (which was actually the bowel prep most folks follow--just my times were altered).  I took the dulcolax as well as the  mirilax--this time in G2 (the reduced sugar Gatorade). I chose the only flavor I have been able to tolerate: Glacial Freeze--the blue stuff--it's actually pretty good as far as Gatorade goes. Again, the mirilax didn't alter the taste, and I experienced no cramping or bathroom dashes--it just made my poo look a little wonky-or more aptly--it looked "smurffy."  :~)

Friday morning I awoke to black skies, very cold temperatures, and pouring down rain. It matched my disposition.  At work, not only was I kicked out of my office because the nursing students were there--it was their last day and they brought food--LOTS of the yummiest smelling food ever cooked--in crock pots so the smell was overpowering all day long--and they placed candy on the table where we have our Interdisciplinary Team Meeting (which I have to facilitate--so I couldn't avoid the smell-good room). I was now drooling at the mouth, growling in the stomach, being food-assaulted at every turn,  on clear liquids, and drinking the remaining mirilax while at work. Oh yeah, my disposition was definitely not sunny. To top it off, I knew I had some Crystal Light in my desk and was planning on mixing it in the final 32 oz of mirilax (that's what S & W tells you to do anyway)--but when I looked at the packet I realized although it was lemon--it was not strictly lemon--it was lemon-berry--BERRY=RED--which is PROHIBITED on the final day of the prep...so I drank it in water. Not terrible, but not nearly as pleasant as when cut with something else.

So I have now starved myself all week, but I've been able to work (even the morning of my procedure), attend Choir Rehearsal, and play Bunco--all with out cramping or urgent bathroom runs.  I stepped on the scales to see if I had lost any weight...two lousy pounds. That was all. I guess ANY weight loss should make me happy, but it didn't. Of course, it DID confirm my theory that I am NOT in, fact "FOS" (FOS= full of you-know-what) as so many folks believe!   :~)

The only hitch with the colonoscopy was it started later than planned. The results were mixed: The good news is, it was clear, no polyps, I don't have to repeat it for 10 years, and I don't remember a thing (thank you IV fentanyl--due to my medical history they didn't want to do the regular knock out drugs--Versed and Demerol). The bad news is I was "twisted"--well, not me--just my bowels--but my Doctor was able to untwist me.  :~)

So, I guess you know what this means:  I am neither twisted nor FOS....and I now have medical proof!  :~)

I'm madder than a tightly-wound, nail-spitting, wet-hen, in a hornets nest!

After an extremely stressful day at work, I finally remembered a co-workers recent rave review of an expensive bra she had purchased at the mall, and I decided to stop and check the bras out. I found a style and color I liked, and it fit really well, so I bought it--at twice the cost of the most expensive bra I've ever purchased--and almost three times the cost of my average bra. In the process of purchasing this golden bra, I also signed up for the stores mid-March "Bra Event." Signing up consisted of  supplying the saleslady with my contact information: telephone numbers, snail mail and email addresses, and my name. Since I rarely go to the mall, I thought while I was there I would check out the costume jewelry, hats, and scarves--I'm in the process of looking for the elements of my costume for a Murder Mystery party I'll be attending in the near future.

While browsing, I realized a cop was standing in the ladies accessories section--and he was "watching" me! I have never stolen anything in my life--well okay, I did steal that small brown paper bag that Mama wouldn't-buy-anything-from-the-grocery-store-to-go-inside-it-so-I-could-take-it-home-honestly--but when Mama "discovered" the empty bag under my shirt in the parking lot, she whipped my 5 year-old butt and marched me right back inside to confess my sin to the store manager. Object Lesson learned!!! I never again even thought about taking anything that was not my own. In fact, I buy and use my own office supplies to ensure I don't mistakenly take home a facility pen or paperclip.

My Mama also worked in store security, and she drilled the following into my psyche: never wear bulky or loose fitting clothing when shopping; take off all jewelry prior to playing at a store's jewelry counter; and carry only the essentials when shopping (which means: only your wallet, keys, and phone--leave the purse , heavy/multi-pocketed jackets or coats, as well as any  tote bags etc. in the car).  I  still abide by those guidelines. Additionally, when I do carry a shopping bag, it goes in one hand and any unpaid merchandise I touch or pick up is only touched by my free hand. If an object requires both hands, I place the shopping bag on the counter and step away from the counter/bag before I use both hands on the stores unpaid merchandise. If I am trying on earrings, I hold only one of the pair up to my earlobe rather than actually try it on (I don't want someone else' "ear goo" in my ear--besides,  I'm scatter-brained and I fear becoming distracted and walking out the door with one of their earrings still hanging off my ear).  In short, I give store personnel and security absolutely no reason to ever suspect me. Therefore, when I realized the cop was "watching" me I got really pissed off.

In fact, I was so pissed off, when the bra saleswoman tracked me down--at the jewelry counter three sections away from the lingerie department--to "see if she had given me the flier for the upcoming bra event," I not only opened my bag to show her the flier and the receipt, I seriously considered taking the bra out of the bag, and shaking it with a flourish in the cops face, before placing it on the jewelry counter in his full sight--or better yet--I should have enlisted his assistance in holding the darn thing for me!

However, much as it pained me, I decided to play nice. I smiled and pretended I had no clue that I was being watched, then continued to saunter around the store browsing all sorts of stuff I had no intention of purchasing, and even though I didn't have time or the desire to go mall shopping, I entered the mall to do just that (I was shocked to learn that the Hallmark/Gift store that used to be two stores away is no longer there!). Then, rather than going to the parking lot from another exit point, I walked back to the offending store, and once again sauntered through it fingering all manner of merchandise I had absolutely no interest in, before exiting the store to my car--still fuming.

First, and foremost, I do not steal.
Second, do you really think I'm stupid enough to give store personnel my contact information, set-up a future purchase,  and purchase merchandise today with my credit card (which confirms at least the name I gave the salesperson)--prior to  stealing something from the same store?!  

Hey "Mall Cop," I'm neither dishonest nor stupid--but I am still angry...I think I've cooled down considerably, because I'm no longer tightly wound--correction--I'm no longer as tightly wound.

I'm a Writer..So Says My Manicurist

I had a manicure tonight and I was passed off from one guy to the next when a lady came in wanting a full set and needing it now. Normally I would have taken offense; however, tonight the Host first sat me with a guy at the front of the shop, in the hot evening sun. I don't do hot graciously. When, in order to accommodate Ms. FullSetNow,  the Host changed me to the guy in the back of the shop, out of the sun, I was okay with it. I actually preferred it. The Host, proceeded to give New Guy my instructions. New Guy repeated the key words, "manicure, buffed, no color." I assumed New Guy spoke broken, or no English, or he was not the sharpest cuticle cutter in the nail implement holder. I assumed wrong.

I placed my wallet and book on New Guys table. I keep my drivers license inside the wallet in a non-matching holder, rather than in the viewer on the side of the wallet. Cops and Retail Merchants want to hold the license anyway, and it's easier to either hand them the holder (Merchants) or remove the license from the holder (Cops insist the license be free of anything else). In the outside viewer I have kept a varriety of photos, reminder notes, or soon-to-be-expiring coupons in hopes of them cueing me to use them--I usually remember to check them the day after they expire.

Currently, the viewer holds the business card I printed for the Writers Conference I recently attended in NYC--the same conference where we were told to refrain from handing our cards or manuscripts, or anything, to the Agents present--if the Agents wanted us to contact them, they would give us their cards (I received cards from two of the three  Agents I "pitched").  So,  after having a rush printing job, delivered to the hotel the night before the conference, I ended up using my $10-turned-$60-cards as memo cards to myself, and passing a few of them out to aspiring authors, friends and family, and strangers on the street, as well as dropping one or two of them in fish bowls in hopes of winning a free "whatever" was being promoted by that particular fishbowl--usually a monthly contest for a free hotel stay or  meal. So far I've not won anything; however, I still have two-hundred or so cards left and hope springs eternal.

Near the end of the manicure New Guy looked at my wallet and uttered his first complete sentence of the night,  "You're a writer."

I was almost speechless--almost. And just a little ashamed of my assumption because the border of my wallet obscured everything except my picture, name, and email address--none of which conveys the fact that the card is in fact a marketing tool for pitching my as-yet-unfinished novel.   When I found my voice, I responded ever so humbly, "Why yes I am!" He then proceeded to tell me to write him a poem to get his wife back. Little does he know the only poetry I write are Limericks and Haiku's. Badly. Neither of which, even when done well, lend themselves to wooing a disenchanted lover back. I explained to him I am really an RN and I only write as a hobby.

He then stated I looked different from the picture. Since the picture was taken less than three months ago, and my hair, makeup, and clothing were almost identical to today's ensemble, (a black long sleeve sweater, which then covered a fuchsia scoop-neck top, and today covered a red v-neck top) the Qs that popped into my head were, "How do I look different? Better? Worse? Younger? Older? Fatter?Thinner? Happier? Sadder?" and the Qs continue to plague me even as I type this. I try to quiet those Qs as best I can, as I cling to the one really important thing he said...

"You are a writer." 

I guess staging the photo in front of a wall of books actually accomplished my goal:  to give me the appearance of being a "Book Person" in general....and dare I type it specifically?...An   Author!