I Am Working On It, I Tell You!

My little book is 9/10 of being a reality. There. I've said it.

What about the other 1/10, you ask? Sigh.

In case you haven't noticed, I am not the most "techie" person around. Sure I can navigate my way around most programs and devices with deceptive ease. I can figure out documentation systems, and basically put my 2c whereever I can plug it in, but when it comes to html, zip, unzip, jpg, tif etc, I am clueless. Actually, it is more accurate to say that I just don't care about that kind of "stuff." It's much like legal jargon. Whatever.

Anyway, my attempts to self-publish have resulted in several headaches of the "techie" sort. After formatting, uploads, corrections, re-uploads, cursing, and proofing (not necessarily in that order), I have the non-virtual version of my little book ready to rumble. The virtual version...well, that's just sitting in it's own special barrel of pickled monkeys.

Someone please 'splain to me how the perfect spacing and font-sizing that appears in the non-virtual version, can get so royally screwed in the virtual version. Hmmm? Anyone? Yes, I am aware that the different screen sizes might make minor adjustments, but to take ONE section (and only ONE section), change the font size (New Times Roman 12 to New Times Roman 20ish) and recenter the text into a non-sensical mess DOES NOT COMPUTE, PEOPLE!

I tried to correct the mess. Following the instructions under the supervision of my techie-ish spouse, the html shows that all is perfection. No problemo. So...I upload again (6 times)...Now the one section font change has expanded to the next paragraph, which was perfect before the corrections.

So...Here I sit, waiting for a response from the help desk...twiddling my thumbs. Slowly going insane.

Stay tuned.

T.

Patient? By What Definition?

Hey! It's been a while. Been busy on all fronts. It's tough keeping seven (yes, seven) jobs in line but it keeps the hubby in chips and salsa with a roof over his head. Anyway, KB has kindly reminded me to blog something, so here it be...

I. Am. Not. A. Patient. Person. Period.

This tiny bit of information may surprise some of you, especially those who are used to seeing me crochet quietly in a corner pew on Sunday morning, but it be the absolute truth. I hate to wait. I hate lines. I hate sitting still. I must be doing something or I will go ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. Hence the crocheting.

Crochet is probably the one thing that keeps me out of prison. With a hook and yarn, I can sit for hours, listening to the TV or a sermon or whatever. I can even allow people to ask me what I'm doing and not go insane. (Can't do that with a book) Crochet clears my head and can follow me where ever I roam: sitting, standing, walking, and driving (Uh-huh. Don't judge, you texting fiends!).

But crocheting cannot help me now. I must play The Waiting Game. Why? you ask (out of fear of an answer).

Because...I am waiting for my proof to arrive. Yes, folks, my little contemporary romance novel, with its pretty little cover designed by Myrtle the Younger, is in the hands of an independent publisher and I anxiously await the arrival of my little proof. I received an email this morning that it is being shipped as we sit. (I chose the cheap delivery, which of course takes longer.)

So here I sit. Blogging. I should be leaving for work. Now.

T.

Time to move forward.

Update on the writing contest: I didn't win.

Am I glad I entered the contest? Yes. Did I get a good critique? I think so. At least my feathers are not too ruffled.

I did get a passing grade (if you will call it that). The lowest scored item related to my synopsis which I must admit I threw together in about ten minutes. I got several top marks in some important areas. Yea me!

Ok, moving on. It's time to get to work. I have some good critiques to think about. I do not agree with everything mentioned. But that's good. The critiques are opinions and I have my own. For the most part, I'm going with my gut.

So be on the lookout for a forthcoming announcement in the hopefully not too distant future.

Now to figure out how to publish this puppy.

Go me!

T.

Texas Springtime Road Trip

I just returned from another trek around central Texas. It's good to be Texan.

Last fall, my grandfather passed away at the ripe age of 93. It is through his family that I have roots growing in Texas since the 1830's (Texas became an independent republic in 1836.) After he died, the family decided to scatter his ashes at the old family plot on privately owned land and scattered wildflower seeds in the plot and along the highway to make the location of the plot a little more visible. (We hoped.)

With wildflower season in swing, we decided to make an Easter weekend trip south. Luckily for us, Myrtle the younger announced she had an extra credit assignment due for German III, giving us the opportunity to kill multiple birds with one stone. How, you might ask? German settlements are scattered throughout central Texas with a famous German restaurant in Walburg and a large settlement in Fredericksburg which also happens to be the wildflower capital of Texas.

So off we go with our first stop in Walburg to fill up on saurbraten, schnitzel and a few other German delicacies which I can't spell because I never studied German. Myrtle took her assigned selfie with food and off we went on our quest for wildflowers.

Along the way, Mimi (the resident genealogist) realized we did not have pictures of her grandparent's gravesite in her database (72K names, people!) and guess what happened to be on the way to Fredericksburg--you guessed it--the cemetery.

I love cemeteries. The older the better. In fact, I have a peculiar talent. I find dead people. Put me in the middle of any cemetery and give me a name to hunt for and I will find them in record time. Turn up the heat and humidity and I will find them even faster. It's fun and it drives Mimi crazy. (How do you do that?!? IDK.) The last time I was at this cemetery was in 1985 when my great-grandmother passed away. I did not go to my great-grandfather's funeral in 1992 (Mimi did). That being said, an argument ensued about where their burial plot was located. Guess who found the marker in less than one minute? Yup, went straight to it.

Mission accomplished, we proceeded to Wildseed Farms to see fields of poppies and bluebonnets. Absolutely gorgeous!

After spending the night overlooking Lake Marble Falls, we headed north to Burnet (pronounced burn-it) County where the family plot is located. Since we did not get permission to go to the plot beforehand, we just looked through the fence. No sign of wildflowers in the plot, but along the highway there was plenty of evidence that our seed scattering was productive. Yea!!

Now Mimi wants to get five pounds of seeds for each departed family member and scatter them at the highway and at her property. Stay tuned!

T.

When I grow up...

Like many people I know, I am at a crossroads in life. Since 2012, I have been laid off from two jobs and have spent the last year and a half trying to find the right opportunity.

Now, I hear what you are muttering under your breath. "But, T., you are an occupational therapist. There are tons of jobs waiting for you out there." Yes, there are tons of jobs. (well, not TONS but several) About half of them are pediatric (which we established a few months ago that I am NOT a pediatric therapist--see You're Going To Find Me A Job, Right?) or they are places which I have said I would never consider for multiple reasons.

I get calls from recruiters daily. Some are really entertaining. All of them make me wonder how recruiters make a living. (No, I am not interested in an ock-u-pat-shun-ale ther-a-pest position in my neighborhood...in TEXAS. Do these people know how big Texas is? San Angelo or Corpus Christi is a LONG commute from the Dallas area.) I also find it somewhat amusing (not really) that all of the job descriptions advertised are interchangeable so I can't tell what skills are being sought. (Am I a fit? Can't tell!)

I have been on several interviews and I even walked out of one because they were insane. What I have learned is the healthcare climate has changed so much in the past five years that the company either wants a license with a pulse (which means I don't want them), or they want a new graduate that they can train the therapist to jump through their hoops (One of my soapboxes. Don't get me started.)

So, this leaves me wondering what my future as an occupational therapist might be and asking the question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" I've been asking this question for longer than I'd care to admit and still have no definitive answer.

For now, I continue as I have. I am on the books with three companies as PRN (as needed) of which two give me somewhat steady work. I have an interview in the morning and one next week for two more PRN positions. I am looking at private practice (which really goes back to the question about growing up). And I am writing and still waiting to publish the first novel until I hear back from the contest. (I have two more novels in the hopper. Obviously, I have too much time on my hands.)

Stay tuned!
T.

Just a Normal Saturday

Yesterday I spent an exhausting day with brilliant teenagers. It made my brain hurt.

Myrtle the Younger is in her high school's version of gifted and talented coursework, called Phoenix. She adores her Phoenix classes because they allow her to think light years out of the box. (And she is pretty darn good at that. I haven't understood a word that child has said since she was hatched.)

Every year the junior and senior classes spend months putting together a Phoenix simulation day for the sophomores and freshman. (The best part...everyone wears a costume.) The hosting classes have a theme (untamed forces) they work around, each with a theme within the theme (greed, dreams, fear, survival instincts, psychology, etc.). Her class theme was social hierarchy so they chose to create a prison complete with gangs and a tattoo parlor. (Isn't that what you think when you hear the phrase 'social heirarchy'?)

So yesterday I proudly send off my baby prison guard with a cute little bun. All I know was she was thrilled to be a prison guard so she could swat people with a foam noodle. (A mother's pride knows no bounds, despite having little understanding of the baby girl's thought processing.) I was assured that no one was hurt by her swats and she had a blast.

Now because I am the supportive parent, I was volunteered to be a chaperone. And upon arrival, I was informed that I was responsible for NOTHING. Yea! This event was completely run by the kids and my role was that of general adult. I can do that! And in return, I get pizza!

So I dutifully follow the three groups I am assigned to and we see the creative results of ten different Phoenix classes including Greed (a giant Monopoly game with robbers), Psychology (a psych ward where the students got to yell "give me my meds!"), Social Movements (a communist spy/blow up the Berlin Wall simulation), Finances (a stock market crash), Natural Disasters (a tornado clean-up), Failure (Amazing Race), Dreams (from happy rainbows and unicorns to LSD-inspired weird stuff to really bad burrito nightmares), and Survival Instincts (plane crashes into the jungle and now the animals are going to eat you). Yes, I have forgotten two, but that was the middle of the day and my brain was on sensory overload. Be assured they were fun and creative.

I came home and took a nap.

Otherwise it was a normal Saturday for me. How about you?
T

Confusion Is The Norm, Right?

I attended my first ever writer's critique group last night. It was an interesting evening to say the least. The instructions were to bring a chapter of approximately 2500 words to share and discuss.

There were five others present with material to discuss. One was new, like me, and the others were old hats with either published materials or at least few rejection letters under their belts. Overall, I was impressed by the amount of work they had completed and their feedback.

Now, I must explain a few things before I continue. Firstly, I am an introvert. Meeting new people--not my cup of tea. Meeting new people for the express purpose of criticizing...excuse me...critiquing my work--OMG! Secondly, I am a speed reader. It wasn't something I learned, nor can I really explain how I read, but one thing I do know--reading out loud is akin to torture. I do know I tend to omit or stumble over descriptors and words like 'the', 'to', 'a/an', etc. They are a waste of my time and energy in reading, so when I read out loud, I have to force myself to recognize their existence. (Books with a lot of descriptions get skimmed or put down pretty quickly. Give me action and dialogue! My brain will fill in the rest.)

Back to the group. After I read my prologue, discussion ensued. Major discussion. There were two or three different factions. Now I realize that many will not like my story (genre, concept, style, etc) and I should not take that into consideration or be offended. But on my right was someone telling me my prologue had no hook, that it sounded like a ghost story and mystery rather than a romance, didn't understand who my audience was and she would put the book down. (Not helpful!!) The person on my left said she had no problem with the hook and liked the intro but needed see how the prologue tied in with the rest of the story.

Now I think the person on the left had a reasonable arguement and is often how I approach a novel. How does the opening/prologue tie into the rest of the book? I often don't see the connection until mid book or the end, but that's part of what keeps me going. One of the comments was that the character in the prologue needed to be the main character of the book. I've never heard that before and have read many prologues which did not include the main character. The prologue should tie into the main concept, but not necessarily the main character.

Thoughts?
T.