NaNoWriMo uh oh

LOOK OUT!  It's almost November....

DinerGirl....Let's Go Wendy!

Full time writer it is

I'm happy. Okay, I got some horrible news yesterday, but trying to remain positive.  

I'm terrified.  Free as a bird, yes, but nervous.  Let me tell you why.

Until yesterday I was a medical secretary.  Yours truly has been hiding out in a doctor's office, pretending to be someone else as most writers - sans the Stephen King types - have to do.  At least part-time jobs anyway.   

Then, WHAM, yesterday afternoon the doctor's wife takes me outside and I knew it wouldn't be good.  "Your position is turning in to a full-time one.  The fall gets really busy here.  And we need a full time person."

"And you're not offering me that position?"
"No."  She answered flatly.

"So....you're firing me?"  I asked.  Thinking of all the times I stayed after work, busting my ass to get them caught up.

"Well...basically, yes."  She let out a nervous little laugh.

As she stood there looking at me I realized mistakes aside, the medical secretary world wasn't my gig. But for Pete's sake, I tried. I typed faster than anyone else, was cheerful on the phone, nice to the patients. I scanned and photocopied as fast as I could. I would stay late to get piles down, get scanning caught up and things in order. All they saw were my mistakes, but if anyone tried hard, I did.

I kind of saw it coming, with each time the token bitch (there's always one, isn't there?) would throw me under the bus and say 'we really need someone full-time' or 'of course you get the chart, Wendy!'  It's like I had a Bull's Eye for her anger every day on my forehead.  I thought someday I'd be asked to leave. There was a clock ticking, the rotten apple didn't like me.  I figured what she wants she gets, she had been there 12 years and all.  Yes, mistakes are one thing, but the employee with seniority rules.    

Even as I sit here, I'm still processing how my world changed in an instant yesterday.  Great!  I can write all day!  But, eh, ah, er, how will I pay our bills?  My fiance can't work right now and my royalties don't even cover our rent.
Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssshit!
As I bite my fingernails, well a little anyway, I wonder what's around the corner. Sure if I picked up my book of checks and the apron, I can live DinerGirl while I finish writing it, but it's so damn unappealing.  I can't bring myself to waitress again unless we have no food in our cupboard and our rent is late.  Which in four weeks is a distinct possibility.


So let me get back to why I'm happy.  

It's really very simple.

Once I put my pride aside, they were after all firing me for making too many mistakes, I realized once again: I'm an author.  I've been broke before and dammit I can be broke again.  I'll never starve, I'll never be homeless.  (I have too many family members in the area! ha!)  

Now I've got the time, I can get back to finishing DinerGirl.  Oh, sure, I'll be a little broke, but not for long.  Things always have a way of turning around.

Change position title to:  Full time writer?
                                     Check.

                                     Full time starving artist (well, not starving yet...)
                                     Check. Check.

                                     Things'll be turning around soon.
                                     Check. Check. Check.

 

peace out,
me

Summer mania vs. summer sadness

Today's blog:  scattered with a chance of storms.  Wait, that's the weather outside.  muah ah ah.
Well, the scattered I can deliver.

Welcome to my little life.  My little corner of my little room of my little life that is. 

Wow, sounds like I live in a 10x10 studio.  Or that I'm hunkered down at a desk in that little studio.  Then again, if I lived in a tiny studio, that would probably mean I live in a city, alone, and that's far from the truth. I'm blessed to be in love, living in a spacious 1 bedroom apartment overlooking a serene river.  Sometimes I forget all of the above when I dream of having more.  Then I remember again all I need are my girl, my shelter, my laptop, some food and my kitties.  It's really that simple.

Gratitude. 

When will I live this, rather then have fleckers of moments of it, life is beautiful.

But I digress from the thoughts that made we want to blog to you today.

Summer mania vs. summer sadness

Usually summer for me means madness.  That is, I'm usually up, manic, a tad over the line if you know what I mean.  I get on a roll in the spring and get too much sunshine at the beach.  Then poof:  I'm a wee bit too happy.  Well that was last summer at least.  But that's my pattern.  Seasonal conditions (late fall and winter) no sun, dark and gloomy and very depressing.  It reminds me of the shrink who diagnosed me (though I despised her at the time), did suggest to my parents that I live in a warm climate.

Most summers simply amazing.  The sun and my mood and my life feel 100% comfortable.  No matter what is going on. Happy. Sunshine. Beach. Peace.

But if there's too much, it's madness.  I never knew too much sun could do that.  Until last summer.  And if you add a tad too much pressure, not good.  Not good.  Case in point last year.

This year I'm way under as we head in to July.

I've had a few deadlines in May and June.  Usually I go out hunting, knocking on doors to write articles for May, mental health month.  I wasn't terribly motivated early this year which didn't worry me, I was busy with my new job.  Focused on that and on my little life.  Moving along, moving along.

Then a few knocks came, the article for BP Magazine and an offer to write for a book (title undisclosed until I'm allowed.  But for me, both are a big deal.  Last year, two years ago and certainly five years ago when I began writing, no one was knocking.  All I had was a schlew of emails everywhere trying to get in places.  Not many of which materialized.  I was really focused on the book, my little baby, the only being I've ever given birth to.  And it is as close as I'll ever get,  cutting the cord figuratively of course.

Anyways, I don't know what the next project is.  But I'll keep ya posted.  I promise.

peace.
wendy

Time to write again.

So, here I am, it's March 4th and I only know this because we always pay rent 3 days late.  Sad to say, it's my gauge to figuring out the date for at least the first two weeks of the month. 

I wear no watch with the date, have no calendars nearby and write it at work about fifty times a day.  Even at my desk at work, I've got to  twist to see the clock and stretch to see my tiny-free-from-some-pharmaceutical-company calendar behind my computer.  For me time, dates and most things factual aren't as important as the abstract, the ideas, the feelings we have and the thoughts that occupy our minds.  This is what I try to pay attention to.  Most other things in life are necessary evils to me.  This probably explains why history and math were my worst subjects. 

This March is unique for me.  This month presents me with  a renewed sense of interest in my book.  And this is huge because for a while it felt as important to me as where it stood, on the shelf, collecting dust and in the back of my mind. 

Let me explain my digression from the book, as there are several reasons for this.  I just began a new job as a medical secretary (no experience, had no clue what I was doing).  So I have been very focused since just before Christmas to right about now when I feel I have the swing of things.   It was necessary to keep my much needed job.
 
Also, last year you should know last year I came close to hospitalization because I was trying so hard to make this book successful.  I finally pulled out of it with medication tweeks and a lot of love and support around me.  A big help was finding a job.  I felt I had a purpose once again.  It's hard to feel good about yourself while sitting on the couch, replying to ads, day in day out.  Mainly though, I was trying too hard to make this book and myself as a writer, successful.  Which was a recipe for disaster.

Here I am though, thrilled to begin writing again.  Spring is my most productive time.  The time of year before summer is mania and the winter is depression. It's the perfect time to get going. I have to avoid too much pressure though, that's my biggest enemy. 

So, here's to writing, or doing anything that makes you happy and gets you off your couch.

Happy (almost) spring.  I'm thrilled the winter is almost gone.

peace,
wendy

Where have I been?

Here's the update:

1. I'm working on blogging more.  Thus, the blog today.  All my journalling, facebooking, tweeting, and writing exercises need to be stepped up.  Though, I know it's progress not perfection.
2. I completed my deadline for I'm Not Crazy Just Bipolar to go to a large publishing house. Had to put together a press kit (Thanks, Kim!) and scramble a bit.  Made it and a big load was off.
3. Two weeks after deadline, we moved.  Always a nightmare to move, but it went pretty well, sans one bag that looked like trash but actually had things we needed.  So, there was a casualty but oh well, what can you do?
4. I had a little episode.  Okay, not little.  It was my worst since 2005. I avoided the hospital, but it was up and down, down and up, all over the place.  I'm doing much, much better now, thank you.
5. I am done with my interview for women's health.gov.  Click here: http://www.womenshealth.gov/news/spotlight/2011/9.cfm.

The Red Bank Writers Group is going strong, almost 3 years now.  We had a great meeting the other night and I always learn something new.  Also, I just joined the New Jersey Author's Network and am excited to contribute there.  Hoping to do a panel/discussion at the Middletown Library early next year.

Stay tuned.  And to my writers:  keep writing!

; )  wendy

deadlines

Ah the joy of a deadline....

Now don't get me wrong. I live to be a writer.  It's what I want, what I've always wanted (whether I knew it or not), and what I aspire to keep doing.  It's who I am.
But let's not confuse the positives and the negatives of the job.  And the negatives are, most definitely, deadlines.

For you see, I am not one of those creatures who handles pressure well.  I know, I know who does, right?  Well there are those who do. That thrive on it.  I shrink. I get the job done, yet. But I have a lot of anxiety,  do you?  I never realized how bad it was.  I get myself into a tizzy really. 

In college, while everyone around me was freaking out, stressing and studying their asses off, I was not.  I kept repeating my mantra:  "stress is counterproductive."   I had it figured out then. I also drank and smoked pot quite a bit which helped deflect the whole responsibility issue.  But I had the right idea in there somewhere.  Stressing out will only go against everything.  I need to practice that now. (Sans the alcohol and pot of course!)

Anyhoo, thanks for stopping by.  I'm going to relax and get busy on my outline and summary for DinerGirl.  Deadline is looming.  I'm gonna breathe.  Maybe now is a good time for yoga again!

 

Editors, Criticism and Growth

 
This morning, after re-reading a lost chapter from my book's rough draft, I cringed.  I had turned it in to my writers group last night and this morning had that "morning after guilt."  I had haphazardly chosen this sample to pass out and couldn't believe how well... bad it was for lack of a better term.  True to my procrastination defect of character, I waited until 1 hour before the meeting, printed the chapter from an old rough draft and barely re-read it before printing ten copies.  This morning, when  I sat down to my emails, there it was on my monitor.  This simple, repetitive sample of work that displayed every bad habit I have.  What must my writers think of my abilities (or lack thereof)?  I was mortified.

You see, I'd written it four years ago (tisk tisk...I should've turned in a new article) and although my style is admittedly straightforward, I kept repeating the same words over and over.  It's something I can be guilty of.  Although I'd like to think I've grown as a writer since the first rough draft of my book, who knows the true measure.  Please tell me I have.  It's funny because all of this self doubt is coming one week after my first national review. I was chosen as one of thirty something self-published books to be reviewed by Publishers Weekly. And it was a great review!  So what is my problem?? http://www.publishersweekly.com/978-1-4520-6851-0

Why am I beating myself up for something that I wrote four years ago that wasn't so fantastic?
Is it this masochistic, perfectionistic nature that is eating me up today?  How can I shake this negative inner critic?  (I wish I could put it on a one-way plane ride to Tahiti.  Or, better yet, the North Pole.)  Still, I have to learn to live with this inner critic and tell it to take a hike when it's driving me nuts. Like today.
  
After last night's writers meeting, and upon this morning's reflection, one thing is abundantly clear:   we need our editors.  Of course by that I mean someone other than ourselves. I can edit the heck out of an article eight times, but someone else will give me the perspective and ability to make it a better one.  We need to be able to, and open to, accepting criticism.  It makes us better writers when we do.  Every article I write, every chapter and even the occasional long, important email gets run past my editor.  (Unfortunately for you, not this blog! haha) 

As I write this to you, Simon's (we have a "Simon Cowell" named Bob in our writing group) advice is echoing in my mind: "get rid of every form of the verb 'to be' in your story."  I crutch on the easy words and a lot of learning, practicing and catching up to do.  Some people have been writing, professionally or otherwise, all their lives. Not me.  My past is filled with hiatuses here and there.  A long time poetry and journal writer, I am consistently inconsistent.  The story writing, book writing and even article writing are new to me.  So I realize I'm a little behind here...

Perhaps I'm ahead of the curve in one respect. Being so new to this industry makes me extremely open to taking criticism.  I absolutely take my editors' suggestions.  And, I believe that's what makes a good writer.  Or, shall I say I believe that's what makes us better writers.  You can argue with me all you want.  Sure, we've all been told by someone we have raw talent.  Everyone has their story of teachers, friends, reviews, etc.  But if you think you never need editing or feedback, I'm here to say: your writing will suffer for it. 


To goal is, and always will be, to keep growing.  When we listen to our editors, we make better writers.  It's that simple. 

I for one, would be lost without them.