Sunday, January 18, 2015

A HUMONGOUS Leap of Faith

I have a confession to make: I should have myself committed.

No. Scratch that (although my family might think otherwise). Really, I have just made the biggest leap of faith I think I have ever made. And my mother knows nothing about it. (I am in so much trouble.)

It's confession time. I have been writing. (Duh! What do you think this blog is?) No. I mean writing. Like screenplays and novels writing.

Yeah. I've got about 5-6 projects in varying stages of development for about 1 1/2 years of work. (I kinda let my ADD out of its litter box and it made a big ol' mess.)

So...what's the leap of faith? Well...for one thing, just admitting what I'm up to is not second nature to me. Telling family, friends and strangers...that's HUGE. (I don't know why. It just is.) Secondly, and the biggie, I just hit the SUBMIT button on a writing contest. My first novel-child will be given to an anonymous judge for critique (MY BABY!).

Inquiring minds might wonder what the novel-child is about. I'm calling it a psychological romance which loosely includes sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. It is NOT a bodice-ripper/smut book/whatever you call it. Body parts and functions are mentioned, a few descriptives are provided to create the situation, but otherwise I figure (most of) you are adults with an imagination that may need to be exercised (if'n you so choose).

So far I have had three trusted souls read the entire manuscript and the responses have been encouraging. My baby brother was forced (and I do mean forced. Did I not mention this is a romance?) to read said work no less than three times. Aside from the fact that he abhors my main male character's name, Beau (which I offered to change to Horace exclusively for him. He declined.), his initial review included the words "oddly compelling" and something about paybacks for making him shed a tear (which he will deny to his dying breath but I have it in writing).'s out in the open. All I know is that sometime between now and June, I should have a critique that will help me finalize my novel-child for publishing. In the meantime, I must remind myself to not fantasize about winning the contest (but that would be SOOOO COOOOL!!!)

I'll keep you posted.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

I Have Been Chastised.

As I warned in my first post, I may not stick with this blogging business regularly. Between Holiday 2014 festivities, steady work during December and my multitude of other activities, I have been busy. Really, I have.

So when my baby brother, K.B./Daddy Hawk, demanded I get to posting on this fine day, I responded in my usual fashion-"I ain't got nuttin to say." His response was...uhm...encouraging (yeah, that's the word).

Anyhoo. He suggested I post a picture or something amusing. I would if I knew how.

So I sit here in my chair with my glass of wine (birthday prez from the hubby, Llano Gewuerztraminer, unpronounceable but very nice), listening to Treehouse Masters (I wanna treehouse!) at 9:30pm and my beloved fur baby (Chewy, Prince Mutley, Lord Chewmeister, formerly known as Joe) is whining. He wants to go to bed.

Did I mention it's 9:30? At least it's better than last night. Last night he wanted to go snoozeville at 7:30.

Chewy is a lab mixed with something, we know not what. He has achieved the ripe young age of 10 1/4 years and has refused to grow up. Except when it comes to bedtime. Do not confuse the dog with the facts. Bedtime is whenever he deems it appropriate.

So what happens when the hubby and I ignore the dog? Well...He mopes around for a while, looking longingly toward said bedroom until he realizes that Mommy and Daddy will not be coming to bed forthwith. He then goes to said bedroom, dismantles the linens and makes his hairy self cozy in one of several locations: Mommy's pillow, Daddy's side of the bed, or (his personal fave) the exact center of the bed.

The real fun begins at Mommy and Daddy's bedtime. Need I say that Daddy is usually the loser in the battle for real estate? I thought not. Alpha Mommy can usually walk in, thank the dog for warming her side of the bed and get in, but Beta Daddy is not so fortunate. The ensuing discussion between mutt and male usually consists of a staring contest, eye-rolling (on the part of mutt), begging (on the part of male) and laughing (on the part of yours truly).

About the time an accord is made and Beta Daddy is getting comfortable, the beloved canine insists he must investigate the great out-of-doors.

I'm not sure which will go first, but I have promised to bury them together.