On good writing days, my Wizard of Oz door-hanger faces Glinda side out, welcoming all and sundry to celebrate the joyous explosion of creativity within:
On bad days, it’s 100% Elphaba.
Even the youngest of my grandchildren knows to stay away from that.
Among my many character flaws, the one that has caused me the most grief over the years is probably my impulsiveness. I’m not good, even at the ripe old age of 65, at thinking through potential consequences before I act.
Because I’m so weak on the strategic side, I’ve developed a lot of skill at tactical reaction. Most of the time, no matter how poorly thought out my original plan, I can wrangle it into something less than a total failure.
But not always.
Last fall I decided I wanted a dog. Because of my age, and because of a strong need in the community, it seemed like a good idea to adopt a rescue dog. I’ve owned a couple of Australian shepherd mixes over that years, and I’ve always wanted a full-bred one, so I applied to an Aussie rescue group. They sent a flock of pictures and my husband and I picked one out and went to meet him the day after Thanksgiving.
Welcome to the last post of 2018! Hard to believe, isn’t it? And you know what the end of the year means. Recaps and reviews of 2018. Resolutions and predictions for 2019. Here at 8LW, it also means discussing our writing plans for the new year. Today, I’m keeping up that tradition, and expanding it to other important areas of life.
You might have noticed over the past year that I’ve set lots of writing goals, accomplished several of them, and missed the mark on others. Overall, I made good progress, but in the coming year I hope to do better. But I also burned out when we reached December, and next year, I’d like to avoid that end-of-year collapse. You’ll be shocked (shocked, I tell you!) to learn I have a plan to do better in 2019. And it all begins with balance in a few key areas of my life. Continue reading
Last week at this time, I was on day five of a virus from hell. A little less than three weeks ago, I was in a doctor’s office learning that, according to some X-rays of my hip, I have an issue that requires a change to my workout regimen for the foreseeable future. And a few weeks before that, I’d had a stiff neck/pinch nerved – possibly related to having my alignment thrown off by the bum hip – that made it difficult to climb out of bed. What all of these ailments have in common, other than making me feel like I’m approximately one hundred years old, is they were, to some extent, preventable.
Given these circumstances, a normal person might think, “What am I doing that’s making me so physically vulnerable?” I, on the other hand, thought, “When will all this be over so I can get back to my normal, totally unrealistic, and probably unsustainable schedule?” At some point, maybe it was around day three of the virus, I knew it was time to abandon my mind-over-matter mindset and listen to what my body, my orthopedist, and the universe were trying to tell me. Assuming you’re less obtuse than I, you can probably see where this is going.
It’s time to slow down a bit. Not forever. But for a while. And probably time to come up with a more sustainable long-term approach that builds downtime into my plans.
So today I present myself as a cautionary tale. Behold what happens when you set up unmanageable expectations. I’ve spent the past nine months riding hellbound for leather to reach a multitude of goals in 2018. And I’ve met most of them, so yay! But follow my lead at your own peril, because you could break something. Quite literally. Continue reading
So, how was your week? Mine started well, but from there it’s been downhill all the way.
The good news is that I successfully uploaded my *three* entries to the RWA Golden Heart Contest website. Two of them still require tweaking, but they’re close to ready, and seeing the titles set up on the contest system gave me a huge sense of satisfaction. 😀
I celebrated by hurting my back. Fortunately it was muscular, and a few sessions of physiotherapy have helped no end, but while it lasted the effects were spectacular. Getting out of bed was a four-step process, with screaming. Sitting at a desk was impossible, so no GH tweaking happened this week 😦
I marked the improvement in my mobility by cracking a tooth. I’ll have a new crown for Christmas, please, Santa 😦 😦
And to put the lid on things, I somehow acquired a bonus ear infection 😦 😦 😦
They say things go in threes, so I’m hoping that’s my last nasty surprise. All being well, I’ll have butt in chair/hands on keyboard soon, and I’ll see you all back here in two weeks with this year’s Christmas Short Story.
Here’s hoping your week was better than mine. Did good things happen to you?
I finished my last book. I’ve revised it. It’s done.
Usually when that happens, I get a new idea. For a long time now, like clockwork, when the old book ends, the new one appears. It’s like the Girls were thinking about it while I was concentrating on other things, and when I’m ready, they send up the next demand, er, suggestion. The transition is flawless. The second I type “The End,” I can type “Chapter One.”
Not this time.
This time, I the Girls are on vacation, asleep, or, heaven forbid, dead.
I’ve got nothing.
There are ideas I could pursue, extensions of ideas I’ve already worked on. For example: Continue reading
The scene of the crime
This week I finished a subpar mystery and promptly wrote about it to fellow Lady Jilly. I spared nothing. I revealed clunky plot points, egregious characterizations, poorly constructed story arcs, and, perhaps worst of all, the irritating and unrewarding ending. Not only that, I said that had I known how the book ended, I wouldn’t have started it.
This discussion was all in the name of science, of course: I read bad books so others don’t have to.
But then the story broke about the Russian scientist stationed in Antarctica. You’ve probably read this one. Sergey Savitsky stabbed coworker Oleg Beloguzov in the heart for revealing the endings of books.
Okay, then! Continue reading