Performace Review

What am I supposed to be doing? Am I doing ok?

Without a boss to say 'good job' or 'wtf do you do all day?' I gave myself an evaluation to make sure I'm on track or can at least see the track.

I'm supposed to be writing a book. check.

Am I doing ok? I've learned a lot, and the current work is still living and showing promise. It's not done but I'm confident I can finish it.

What would I like to improve? Less anxiety, improved efficiency base don learning from the past months, and more income - preferebaly from a BIG HUGE advance, but more realistically from freelancing.

So how am I? ok.

As I've said before, I am apparently less of a freebird, rolling stone than I thought. I'm more Rain Man than Kerouac. I need a little more routine and stability.

I'm working on finding the perfect balance. Same old same old day in and day out doesn't work. No fixed address is better but not quite right.

E Meets the Family

Currently in Ashtabula. The book is with me but still in a bag. Linda, QNE and Grandma Dorothy are all at the Amelia house. Boba had to go to London and couldn't make the trip. E drove down to meet the family and take a bunch of my stuff back. He was a big hit, particularly with Emma. At dinner the first night, Emma announced that she liked e, and Linda reminded her that e. is Aunt Karen's boyfriend. Emma replied, "but I'm cute, and I have fancy pants - she's just wearing gray pants."
Emma kept sitting between us and pushing me away. She is some serious competition! I need to watch my back. E left this morning so I will be re-opening the book bag soon and setting up the laptop to get some work done.

Prioritizing

When you have a lot to do and have deadlines quickly approaching, it's important to prioritize to make sure the important things get done. I have to pack for a visit to Ashtabula and pack for a transfer of some of my stuff up to Parrot Island. I have to figure out how to keep my car legally registered and insured if I want to bring it to Canada and spend the majority of my time there. I also have this freaking book to finish revising - I'm going to a conference at the end of April and would like to be able to give a coherent answer to the question, "So, what's your book about?"

I woke up crabby and feeling overwhelmed. Linda and I stayed up until midnight last night digging through a giant box of clothes. Although my savings is dwindling and I have no steady source of income, I still do not want to hold on to all my possesions as though it were the depression... because it's.... depressing. I kept handing her things saying, "Here - take this." L: "Why don't you want it?"
"I don't want to pack or unpack it ever again."

Honestly, I've had it. My packing role model is Steve Martin from The Jerk. ALL I NEED IS THIS----
I'm going to stumble over the border dragging a chair, but I am not re-sorting and re-packing all those friggin' boxes.

So I'm still a little crabby, but I did get a haircut :)

Oh - remember the critique group I joined and then abandoned because someone was mean to me? Someone else wrote a nice review of one of my excerpts. Thank you, Robb from Texas :)

This thick skin of mine is really helping me handle criticism of my writing.

Ms. Fix-it Strikes Again

In the last week, my computer stopped making a horrible fan noise and started taking increasingly frequent unauthorized 'breaks'. I tried AVG-checking for viruses - no, I tried Spybotting for adware - no. I tried 'jiggling' the power cord - no. I had to actually take the cover off the thing and look at its innards. Dusty - yuuuck.

e: use a q-tip to loosen the grime while using a vacuum to get it out.
me: ok, still powering down

e: are all the fans working?
me: all but the one on the power supply

e: do I need to put 2 and 2 together for you?
me: could you? I hate this project. I'm in the middle of Emily Giffen's 2nd book and this whole 'fix the computer' routine is getting old

e: I'd love to help you but you're there and I'm here, but it's good, this way you'll learn how.
me: yeah, great.

e gave me detailed instructions about disconnecting the power supply. I called him back 3 or 4 times to get further clarification, particularly on cutting tie-wraps and on how much I was supposed to pull to get the connectors to 'just snap right out'. Good thing he isn't a busy person and doesn't have many hobbies or projects of his own or I might have been bothering him.

I took the disconnected ps to the Geek Squad at Best Buy, and they helped me find a new one. So it cost $56 but I probably saved a little on labor and a lot of time. I am up and running the same day. : )

As long as e's patience holds out I could get used to this handywoman stuff.
I'm sure there's no correlation, but he is not answering my calls right now.

Hardy Boys Cliffhangers

aka chapter-ending hooks.

Are they essential?

Yes, they keep me turning pages, BUT if the hook turns out to be fake or easily/quickly resolved right away in the next chapter, then I'm annoyed.

I will keep turning the pages of a book without hooks if I like the book. I prefer that the chapters end cleanly so I can slip my bookmark in and know where to start up again.

Both of the judges from that contest told me I need chapter-ending hooks so I've been trying to end my chapters mid-scene, where the crisis is unresolved, but I don't like it. I think I am going to put it back the way it was.

Please tell me your opinion: Do you need hooks to keep reading the next chapter, or do you prefer clean chapter breaks?

My Yoda!

I went to hear author Emily Giffin talk last night and she was amazing! She grew up in the Chicago suburbs, went to law school, hated being a lawyer, quit, moved to London to write, gave herself a year deadline and managed to produce a New York Times best-selling chick lit book. That book was just optioned for movie rights, she's published two others and is working on a fourth.

I love that story.

I also enjoyed the chocolate cupcake with pink frosting, chit-chatting with other writers, and going out afterward for an Espressotini.

mood: inspired, motivated

Kidding Myself

I keep telling myself that once I get rolling, get experienced, get published, I will learn to trust the process and get less freaked out when I'm stuck. According to Tess Gerritsen that's not necessarily true. Her post is freaking me out a little. I did wear the same outfit two days in a row last week because it was on top of the pile...

GAH. Well, I'll worry about that tomorrow. Right now I'm happy because I finally figured out a quirk for a character who needed one. She's going to constantly ask for my main character's opinion of two choices and then instantly tell mc she's not taking her advice. I HATE that.

Can't you advice never-takers quietly go back to your corners and re-consider your options and then quietly do whatever the hell it is you wanted to do instead of rejecting my advice in my face? Don't waste my time. When someone does that to me repeatedly I'll say "I dunno, whatever the first thing you said was" if I can get away with it (if the person isn't my boss).

Out of Sick Mode, Back in Stuck Mode

After spending much of the weekend recovering from a bout with some sort of intestnal virus - yuk, I'm faced with what exists of my book - a rough sort-of first draft printed out in a binder. I do not feel like celebrating. There is a lot to fix here. The middle sags, the end is still a question mark. I am nowhere near the dotting the i's and crossing the t's stage.

Confidence lagging...
Self-doubt creeping in....
Must move forward...

Winter Camping

For everyone who thinks "are you crazy?" when you hear 'winter camping' - go look at the photos in my flickr account. The scenery is beautiful, and you'll see we aren't huddled around a makeshift fire inspecting our frostbitten fingers trying to keep warm. It's not like that at all.
I love the photo of e. above. I snapped it during his only 10 minutes of downtime the whole weekend, but it makes him look like a real slacker - sunning himself with snacks. I should crop the shovel out because it hints at the fact that he just spent the last hour building an igloo.

Another Good Thing About Canada

The asshat (great word!) Bill Napoli isn't there.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Laura, you don't need to be in Namibia to make a difference - we need you here!

Getting there

I'm in the middle of tax hell - trying to figure out which forms and schedules I need to fill out to account for my 1/2 year of employment and 1/2 year of self-employment. While desperately searching for a tuition receipt, I ran across this old story I forgot about. Now I can see serious issues with this piece that would need revising, but I'm leaving it as is for the purposes of this blog. I'm happy I found it because I can already see improvements in my writing. Unfortunately my bookkeeping skills are still pretty bad. I haven't found that tuition receipt yet...

Chocolate-Coated Destiny



I was tired of work, tired of errands and tired of the same old scenery. I needed a quick lift, a little treat. I needed a road trip. I impulsively decided to get in the car and get out of town for the afternoon to wave at the farm animals and breathe in some fresh country air.

Smiths Falls was the destination of choice because it was within a 1-hour drive limit of Ottawa and the name sounded quaint. I thought I would wander around the main street and grab coffee in a diner until I saw the cover of the visitor’s guide–I was in the Chocolate Capital of Canada! Hershey Canada is in Smiths Falls and there were free tours of the manufacturing facility
running for the next 90 minutes. I felt like Charlie when he found the golden wrapper that sent him on a tour of Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory.

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot at 1 Hershey Drive and stepped out of the car, I was in heaven. The air was dripping with the inviting chocolate scent of a fresh cup of hot cocoa or brownies being pulled from the oven. I could spot fellow chocolate lovers by their dazed, dream-like expressions. I made my way into the building and started the tour, moving slowly, savouring each step. Bins of freshly roasted almonds sat next to vats of rich, gooey chocolate. Long, rectangular pools of melted chocolate appeared to serve no business purpose other than to encourage fantasies of diving in. I devoured every morsel of information: the complex
chocolate-making process, explanations of community fundraising done by Hershey Canada, and tidbits about each type of candy.

The Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups production line made me question my destiny in life. A huge quality assurance sign showed the difference between an acceptable cup versus an unacceptable cup. I couldn’t believe that anyone would need a sign for that. I could spot a good cup from a bad cup without any assistance. Years of eating peanut butter cups would finally prove worthwhile – I was now highly trained and qualified to be a quality assurance tester on the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup assembly line. I knew that the filling had to be perfectly centred–no leaners. I also knew that each cup must be filled right to the top–no waste. I felt uplifted as I daydreamed about my new job and made my way to the last section of the tour.

I paused to clear my head so I could appreciate the last little bit of chocolate-making magic. I was not prepared for the horror at the end of the line. Workers were pulling used moulds for full size bars off an assembly machine, and there was still some chocolate left in the moulds. Broken
pieces were heartlessly brushed aside as the cruel men stacked the moulds on racks. My heart pounded and I felt anxious watching them. What was going to happen to that excess chocolate? Would they take it home? Could they melt it down and re-use it? Were they just going to throw it away? I was distraught. My euphoria from the earlier part of the tour quickly wore off, leaving me feeling sad and empty.

The tour was finished, and I was consumed with guilt about witnessing chocolate going to waste. I was determined to leave without stopping in the souvenir shop, but a display rightby the exit caught my eye. Gleaming racks were filled with big bags ofunlabeled, uneven chocolate pieces for sale–it must be the excess from the end of the line! I felt a wave of relief sweep over me as my faith in the chocolate industry was restored. My earlier swearing-off of chocolate was
forgotten and I looked around the souvenir shop, eager to make my selections.

I needed to please my inner chocolate lover without awakening my inner chocoholic demon. I shuddered at the thought of the maniac who goes crazy when there is chocolate around and can’t think straight until she finds herself in a daze surrounded by a sea of wrappers. I considered trying to appease my desire for Hershey gifts with non-edible mementos. The refrigerator magnets and key chains looked cute, but I was afraid they would serve as bitter reminders of the time I visited the Hershey factory and deprived myself.

I devised a strategy to limit my purchases to a manageable amount–I would only buy things that I had never heard of before, and I had to be able to carry my purchases in my hands. No basket allowed. As I walked up and down the aisles of temptation, I reminded myself that buying in bulk would not save me money–it would cost me money in diet and exercise programs. Even with my strict rules, I found several must-buys: Hershey Nuggets with Raisins and Almonds. It said right on the bag, “One of life’s little rewards.” I deserved rewards. I also deserved new Hershey’s Kisses Filled with Caramel and new Hershey S’mores. The Eat More Original Dark Toffee Peanut Chew wasn’t chocolate, but it was featured as a major Hershey Canada brand, so I considered it a cultural experience to try one. My ultimate find was a Limited Edition Inside Out Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Some visionary decided to put the peanut butter outside and the chocolate inside. It looked like candy from the bizarro world. I had to buy it. The total was only $7.18 and the cashier treated me to a full-size OhHenry! I wrapped my arms around my purchases and walked out feeling elated.

As I drove away I looked wistfully at the factory, wondering if it was fate that sent me there. Of all the small towns within 1 hour of Ottawa, why this one? What could I take away from this experience? Immense treasures are everywhere if you just look? Slow down and enjoy life’s little rewards? I’d have to give it some serious thought, but first I had a more important decision to make: which candy bar to eat first.

---

off-subject note: I deleted the Z Method post because I'm afraid of Z retribution.

Trinity in Trouble

Poor Trinity. I just noticed her hand reaching from behind my desk. I hope that isn't a metaphor for me and my book project. At least she still had her gun when I fished her out. She is now ready for action. Ok, yes - I have a Trinity doll. I liked the character in the first Matrix movie. Then she got irritating.

Remember the Contest I Didn't Win?

Remember that contest I entered back in September? I didn't expect to win, but I wanted feedback from people who aren't my friends or family, but who do read and like chick lit. It finally arrived!

I received feedback from two judges, each including detailed comments within the text of what I sent, plus a scoresheet plus overall comments. My scores were 126 and 103 out of a possible 135. None of the individual scores were below average.

Here the best and worst (in the requires the most work sense) comments:
"...You really seem to know Alison. I think characterization is your forte....I think you have loads of talent. In general, the ms seems somewhat unpolished to me (needs better hooks, needs less telling, needs more dialogue). But when it’s fleshed out and polished, I think this ms will be a knock-out!"
"There seem to be too many secondary characters who serve no purpose. Why do we need to know about everyone who works at the restaurant? What is Toni’s purpose? Do you need all 4 sisters?"

That last comment is unfortunatly still somewhat of a problem. For whatever reason, I overcomplicate the story by adding in too many extra people. I'm going to need to ruthlessly cut some of them out.

For those of you who read the Valentine excerpt and are wondering who Alison is, this feedback is for an earlier story. The main character has morphed into Louise.

Disclaimer: yes, I realize that contests want to encourage wanna-be novelists because they pay to enter contests and it is a self-serving cycle. However, the editing comments were valid and the criticism hits areas I know are weak, so I do think this was worthwhile.

I am on track to finish draft #1 this week and start revising next week.

Did I mention I'm happy?

Back but Busy

I made it back to Plainfield and am back in the Speeway coffee/library groove. I have photos to upload, but I'm focused on book first, blog next. Linda and I are signed up for a conference at the end of April and I have to be ready and I'm not ready and I'm freaking out because this garbled jibberish is what my book looks like right now.

Aunt Karen Mania

I finally reached Linda despite their cordless phone breaking down, leaving one functional corded phone in the house with a low-volume ringer. I begged her to be my book-writing buddy in the afternoons and she agreed if I would help with house maintenance in the morning. In the background Emma said, "NO- she's going to play Barbies with me!" I miss that kid : )

Sleeping With the Astronauts

I tried out the memory foam bed last night - you've seen the infomercials - these are the beds created with Nasa technology. They're supposed to repsond to body heat and provide better, more even support.

I liked the feeling of sinking into it, and I did sleep for 10 hours, but I'm still not sold, particularly considering the astronomical price tag. My favourite bed ever was the heavenly bed in a Peach Tree hotel in Atlanta. Now that was a comfortable bed.

Driving Myself Over the Edge

The trip from Ile-Perrot to Ashtabula was not that fun. It started ok - hit the road at about 8 am, stopped for a cup of Tim's and a cran-bran muffin on the 401, crossed the border no problem, but then things got ugly.

Maybe I built up bad karma by not feeling bad for New Yorkers after their snowstorm, or maybe the national weather isn't planned around me, but either way I drove right into the middle of a huge freaking snowstorm on I81. It was awful - I couldn't see anything - the road wasn't plowed at all and everything was white. The scariest part about that is driving a white car and wondering if any trucks driving faster behind me could see me. I got off the Interstate as soon as I could, but was in the middle of nowheresville. I finally found a Deli/Bait Shop where I picked up the lunch special (mistake) and called e. to get a weather update.

E. assured me that according to the weather network, I was NOT in the middle of a snowstorm, only flurries and fog. I felt like a character in a war tv show who calls in to report taking heavy fire only to be told that there is no enemy activity in the area. I'm not saying that driving in a snowstorm is like being shot at, but I am saying that standing at an outside payphone while snow is piling up and and whipping around you and being told that there are only light flurries in your area is extremely frustrating.

I finally got back on the road and hit sunshine, then more snow. Had to pull off again, but this time at least I found a service area - much better than the store in Creepy Corners. The entire drive was a bit nerve-wracking. It's not that fun to never know how long the decent weather will last and to pass signs saying "Correctional Facility Nearby Do Not Pick Up Hitch Hikers" Not that I normally would pick up hitch hikers, but I'd prefer to think that they are Jack Keroacs, not Ted Bundys.

By the time I got to Ashtabula last night after 11.5 hours of driving, I was drained. Thinking I bought two slices of Hawaiian pizza only to discover that the yellow stuff was cheese, not pineapple was just the icing on the cake. Luckily I had plenty of Healthy Choice Rocky Road ice cream to ease my pain. I am trying to wean myself off the Ile-Perrot truffle diet.

I know this whole 'woo-hooo look at me - I can go wherever I want since I no longer work for the man' thing was my idea, but sometimes it really feels awkward adjusting to a different place and establishing a different routine. I am getting writing done, I just feel a little out of alignment today. On the bright side, it is sunny and warm and since 'woo-hoo I can make my own schedule', I went for a nice run during peak sun hours. nice.

Freelancer is on the move

I'm heading back over the border today. I'll be on OH for a few days and then back in Pville.

I can't wait to see the LSQNE gang, go to Speedway for 50 cent coffee, return the library books I checked out before I left ($$), have Dominicks pizza and sushi, go to SuperKicks and watch netflix.

I will miss e. very much. Maybe fits can keep up with my handywoman training.
"Here's some CLR - you can go unclog all the drains in the house"

Quick, Sacrifice Something to the Weather Gods!

I am eternally thankful that they smiled on me last weekend when I was curled up in a tent outside, but today the portal to Hoth re-opened. Freezing rain on top of snow, then sun, but not a kind sun, just enough sun to illuminate the havoc wreaked by the fearsome wind.

Since I had no paying work today, I was available to chisel the ice off of the sidewalk and driveway. (Not requested by e-he can walk on it no problem as though it were gravel. I see an icy sidewalk and cower inside, throwing salt at it, praying it will melt.)

After de-icing I went back inside, sat back down at my desk and heard a horrible noise - bad noise, chunks of house being torn off noise. I went to investigate and saw big pieces of fence down. See photo exhibit.

If I thought de-icing was bad, it was nothing compared to fence piece gathering. Keep in mind the wind was still whipping these giant fence pieces around as I picked them up and untangled them from the wire baskets protecting the neighbours' prize-winning rosebushes. Then I got to drag them and try to stash them under the back porch so they can somehow be salvaged. I have no idea what snappy tool in that toolchest will repair ripped plastic fence pieces, but I'm sure I'll find out. THIS drawer is for miracle fence repair tape...

It took 3 truffles, a 45 minute conversation with Linda and my camping booties to help me recover. Enough with the wind already. My plan for the weekend is to barricade myself in the basement and watch the all chick flick channel on the satellite.

Someone come get me in April.

Opposites

e: "want to do a little electrical work for me?"
me: "no"

e: (thinks I'm kidding.) gets out strange tools, walks over to where wires are sticking out of the wall in the basement, looks back and is surprised I'm not following him. "come on, I'll show you how."

I walk over and take my time getting comfortable sitting on an exercise ball while he starts explaining things. blah blah strip it like this blah blah hot wire is black blah blah turn it here

me: "what if I do it wrong, electrocute myself and set the whole house on fire?"
e: points to another, bigger wire in the ceiling "it's disconnected so you can't"

me: pretty comfortable on my seat and afraid of what other worse odd jobs might be waiting in the workshop. "ok." strip this, twist that, tighten that. wait - black is hot or white is hot? shouldn't red be hot? I shout to confirm 'hot' color - black. right. done and done.

e: "this looks pretty good, but ..." ok I messed up one small thing about the wire going in the direction of the screw that in my defense he hadn't even explained.

me: finish screwing the socket to the wall and the face plate to the socket and the result was, well, Picasso-esque.

e: undoes and redoes what I just did, but it still looks Picasso-esque. he shrugs and says "come on, I'll show you where this stuff goes. THESE go in the tool belt. THESE go in this drawer with pliers, THIS drawer is full of..."

At that point my head starts buzzing and I start to panic wondering what in the hell I would ever be using these tools for. I've made it 39 years without them, couldn't I hold out a little longer? I hate to be a girly-girl, but... but...
Actually I'm not even a girly-girl - I don't really cook or sew or hot-glue fringe onto lampshades.

Now that I can install a socket (well, as long as the power is off), maybe the sky is the limit. I managed to master the snowblower - I'm tempted to take a picture of today's effort - beautiful, symmetrical - I think I will put orange cones at the base of the driveway so no one parks on it and messes it up.

Maybe I'll soon be complaining about all the tools missing from that massive multi-drawer tool chest. or maybe not. can't tell yet.