Archive for January, 2014

I read this blog a few days ago — What Do You Want From Your Writing In 2014– And Beyond.

Truth is, I don’t know. I cannot for the life of me boil it down to one sentence, and that’s fine.

The insanity that is publishing usually makes me feel like this:


Even so, I’ve cleaned my room a bit, started revisions on the rejected MS, and even mucked about with the sequel. Why?

Because even though I scream more than I laugh, I still keep coming back.




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Atermoiement is a fancy French way of saying procrastination. According to a Facebook meme, the plural of the word (add an ‘s’, yo) means the distractions and hesitations leading to procrastination.

I’m a fucking champion at atermoiement. Obviously, because I spent time Googling that shit instead of doing anything productive.

After the GTS olympics, I decided I didn’t trust the digital thermometer on my large fish tank, so I went and bought two new ones and an algae scraper. Then I went to the dollar store and bought stuff we did need, but also bought more books for the TBR shelf that I really fucking didn’t need. I sat down and got this far on the blog when my bird starts PEEPING, so I gave him food and the PEEPING became a contented thank you of a peep, so now he’s happy. Then I see this outside the window to my right:


So, I let the dogs in and gave them treats. I looked around at the fact that I still have not finished cleaning my room, or setting up the spare fish tank. Frown over the fact that the fish store didn’t have any Emperor Tetras in stock (mine had six babies recently, so I’m *SQUEE* and want more for the tank in here). I’m looking at my desk when I notice the printout of my WIP is missing (I still cannot find that fucker), so how the hell am I supposed to work on that? May as well wash clothes. Or mop. Or sweep. Christ, my desk is a mess of crap that I piled up over the holidays, so I better clean this room. Wait. Where is my drink? *eek* Forgot to put the clothes in the dryer. Forget that I’m working on a blog, forget to find my drink, remember I never put the cat food away. Go do that, turn the dryer on, find my drink and come back here.

Do you see a pattern? CHAMPION.

I mean, seriously, LOOKIT!



No, that’s not a finger shadow. Sh’up.

I have a mess. I genuinely have shit to get done. But let’s talk about why I have shit to get done? K, let’s. It’s because I’ve not done it. It’s because I know when I get this mess cleaned up, I’ll have to get back to writing. I said I didn’t let that “Big House” rejection get me down, but it did to an extent. I know what the issue with that MS is, and with no idea how to fix it, I’ve been avoiding working on the second in the series because if I don’t know how to fix that first one, what on Earth makes me think I should be working on the second one?

*deep breath*

I think I suck, every day–every day! Every day lately, I’m like ‘what the actual fuck are you doing?’ and I either lean back in this chair and stare at the ceiling, or just get the hell up. And don’t clean up my shit so I can keep my excuse not to write.

I met A Morning Grouch today on Facebook when Katy, from I Want A Dumpster Baby, commented on AMG’s wall post about, more or less, sucking as a writer. I had to butt in, you know me. There was this link, and this link. In my head I was all THANK GODS WE THINK WE SUCK, because if we ever stop thinking that we suck, we’re screwed. I thought about this blog. My own good taste is what holds me back. That first chapter? It’s not up to par, and I know it, I’ve been told so, and obviously “Big House” knew it, too. We three gals in that Facebook convo? We don’t suck, we just care. 

Then I went to the aforementioned dollar store and picked up a hardback. As I’m glancing over the first pages of this book, trying not to be distracted too much by it so I don’t forget half of what I came to buy, it hits me–I know how to fix the first chapter. There’s too much narrative/info-dump, and not enough dialog. Instead of all that narrative, make it happen. SHOW don’t tell, for the love of all that’s holy. 

I’m cleaning up my shit today; it’s a bloody fecking mess. My reward when it’s done? Writing.

And placing a special order for Emperor Tetras.



I noticed the last blog about the new pooch was posted Xmas Eve. You guys might be glad to know he found a forever home later that same day, so we had to hug him and let him go.

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