I’ve been trying to write this post for weeks. The words just didn’t want to come. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe I needed to feel it all first. Or maybe I needed to say goodbye before I could say goodbye.

Whatever the case, I’m trying again. We laid you to rest a week ago, so I think this will be the last attempt. It’s time.

Dear Lou,

We met as kids, acknowledged each other’s existence with shared nods as teens and fell in love as adults. We then grew up, got stupid, fell out of love, hated each other and eventually defaulted back to nods of acknowledgment. We both knew it would never again expand past that point, but in honor of what we once had, we agreed to let things be the way they were.

But, the heart is a strange muscle. It has a memory. Just as it remembers how to beat, and knows which part has to relax and contract to make blood flow, it also remembers other things. It doesn’t just remember, it feels.

It feels. 

That is the only explanation I have. It’s the only reason why, since the day I found out your heart gave out and you were gone, mine has been in a million pieces. 

It doesn’t make sense. We spent most of the last decade throwing shots and jabs at each other. Snarking on Facebook. Relaying less than kind comments through friends (sorry guys!). And that’s when we weren’t just trying to forget the other actually existed. We weren’t at each other’s throats, but we were far from the best friends we once were. That seems like a lifetime ago.

Seemed like it, until it ended. Your passing brought the end that we never managed to achieve. Your heart said enough and was no more. It was tired of remembering. It was tired of how it felt. It beats no more.

Mine however, still beats, and with every beat, it mourns. Because it not only remembers, it feels.

It remembers how it felt the day we realized that our meetups for coffee were about more than coffee and idle chit-chat.

It remembers how it felt the day we went to see Independence Day.

It remembers the day you proposed.

It remembers the day we got married, our honeymoon and the crazy days that followed because I lost my job and you got yours.

It remembers our first Christmas. Our first birthdays as husband and wife. Man were you sweating that. I remember you said you’d rather shop for my Christmas gift five times instead of finding the right gifts for my birthday (which is also Valentine’s Day). It remembers our first anniversary. And the fifth and the ninth.

Our ninth anniversary. A seven-course gourmet dinner at a five-star restaurant and a trip to the comedy club to see Dave Chappelle. It was the best anniversary ever. It was also the last one we celebrated.

My brain knows why. It remembers the fights, the silence, the nasty notes we exchanged with each other. And for a while, the brain had the heart in its camp. But once you were gone, my brain said, “Well, that’s over” and moved on. My brain is okay. We hadn’t been together for over a decade. We were never going to be together again. We were friends and we had to work our way back to that. So, my brain said goodbye and moved on.

But my heart…

It didn’t get the same memo. The only thing my heart knows is that a person I loved and at one point was my best friend and partner in crime was gone. My brain knew it was over long ago, but apparently my heart did not. So it’s broken. And I’m sad. You’re gone. We’re over. All that’s left is what my brain has stored of us. 

I hope one day those memories will fill the void. But for now, my heart remembers. And it aches. 

I’ll always remember you, Lou. I will always remember our good times. All those hours sitting at the kitchen table listening to music. Playing trivial pursuit. You teaching me how to play Axis and Allies. Listening to you play guitar. Shooting pool.

Pink Floyd and Babylon 5 will never sound or look the same.

I hope you have finally found the peace that alluded you.  Please know that even though things did not end the way either or us planned, I regret nothing.  

I loved you.

Godspeed.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

I Don’t Like Music in Major Keys

So last night I was writing and listening to music. One of my favorite songs, “Shatter Me” by Lindsey Stirling and Lzzy Hale came on. I decided to share the chorus as a Facebook status because I happen to think it’s great:

“Somebody shine a light
I’m frozen by the fear in me
Somebody make me feel alive
And shatter me
So cut me from the line
Dizzy, spinning endlessly
Somebody make me feel alive
And shatter me!”

Here’s a link to the video for the song.

The next song came on and I continued with my work. When I checked my Facebook later, there were several “sad” smileys on the post.

I was confused. I wasn’t sad. I was in a perfectly fine mood. But since the lyrics were conceivably sad, then I guess people thought I was sad too.

Nope. What is means is that I’m not a fan of happy songs or music in major keys.

Okay, so there are some exceptions. “Happy Birthday.” Some Christmas carols. A couple of classical pieces.

But for the most part, I am all about sad music in minor* keys.

Not sure how or why it started, but I’ve always had a thing for seemingly sad-sounding music. The first song I remember singing along to aloud is “Two Outta Three Ain’t Bad” by Meat Loaf. The next? “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I was 8 and 10, respectively. There were others, I’m sure, but I have clear memories of both of those songs.

Then came Metal.

I think there’s a rule that no metal song can be composed in a major key. And I’m okay with that. Imagine “Alone Again” in a major key. Or “Fade to Black.” Or any Queensryche song (Promised Land and back).  Even 5FDP would sound ridiculous in a major key.

There is just something about music in a minor key that makes me feel…I don’t know…alive I guess.

I also tend to find solace, peace and enjoyment in songs that have seemingly dark subjects. Take “A Tout Le Monde” by Megadeth. The gist of the song is a guy’s farewell to his friends. Whether he dies or just goes away has been debated for years, but either way, he’s gone and he leaving final words for his friends and family. My love for this song knows no bounds. the aforementioned “Fade to Black” has the same effect on me (though admittedly, my attachment to that song is connected to a friend who passed away way too soon. But it still brings me solace and makes me feel better).

But it’s not just metal, though it is my genre of choice most of the time. As I type this, I’m listening to rap. T.I.’s “Big S*it Poppin'” to be precise. Awesome song. Minor key.

If I’m listening to music, you can almost guarantee that the songs on my playlist are in a minor key. Take my current playlist:

30 songs, all minor key.

Not sure what it says about my overall mental state, but I greatly enjoy the playlist.

So am I alone in this? Anyone else out here prefer minor keys over major keys? Anyone prefer major keys over minor keys? Feel free to explain in the comments.

I’m going back to my depressing music so I can be happy. “Bartender” by Lady Antebellum just came on. Okay so technically it’s in D major, but its relative key is B minor, so it still counts.

*I’m aware that several of the songs I’ve mentioned are actually in major keys (A, C, D and G mostly). But they’re played in relative minor keys (the minor keys in the scale are emphasized the most) so they sound like minor keys.

 

 

$92 Million

22 military vets commit suicide each day. That’s one soldier every 65 minutes.

23,000 active military members access SNAP to help feed their families.

Over 40,000 veterans are homeless on any given night.

The White House and Congress are headbutting over how to fund the new Veterans’ bill, with the WH wanting cuts to come from other places in the budget, excluding defense.

So, to summarize, we have vets killing themselves because they can’t get the mental health assistance they need, vets sleeping on the street because, mental health issues and poverty, and some who are still serving don’t make enough to feed their families without government assistance.

But we do have $92 million to throw a parade to stoke and stroke the ego of a man who did everything possible to avoid serving. According to what is being reported, $50 million is for personnel and equipment being used in the parade. The other $42 million is going toward security.

Yeah, I’m sure it’s going to cost a pretty penny to sweep the streets of the homeless that are living along the parade route. I wonder how many are vets with mental health issues?

How many marching in the parade will go home to meals prepared with the help of SNAP benefits?

But yes, by all means, let’s have a parade. We don’t have anything better to do with that money.

My father, who served in Korea for over 2 years and then served an additional 31 years in the Army and National Guard is fond of pointing to his dog tags and saying, “I am the property of the United States government.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, you need to take better care of your stuff.

 

 

Miss Me With That

I was going to do a big ‘ol set up and gently ease y’all into this topic, but nah. I’m too old, too tired and quite frankly too ticked to extend that courtesy right now, so I’m going to jump right in:

Y’all* need to miss me with this “Oh, you understand that mindset, you must be like that or agree with it”…

Nonsense. (Not the word I wanted to use.) It’s both asinine and insulting. I’m going to start with asinine because it’s easier to explain.

The fact that I understand how people whose views you find distasteful, disgusting and even horrifying doesn’t mean (and I really cannot believe I have to actually say this) I agree with those views. It just means I took the time to try and figure out WHY these people hold these views. I’ve said this a dozen times, but what the hell, let me make it a baker’s dozen: You can’t fight what you don’t understand and you can’t win a game if you don’t know the rules.

Oh…I said baker’s dozen…must mean I agree that bakers can discriminate.

I can’t even…

Sigh. Anyway.

When a person goes to medical school it’s because that person wants to learn how the human body works and what it looks like when said body is malfunctioning so they can fix it. Mechanics learn about engines and other parts of vehicles for the same reason. It’s why stylists go to cosmetology school. Teachers get education degrees. Accountants study and take the CPA exam. Writers study English and grammar. The point is to learn about the subjects so we can…say it with me…UNDERSTAND.

You can’t help solve a problem if you don’t understand the problem. You can’t help people see things differently if you can’t see what they see, or understand why they it. Posting on social media how horrible you feel about how things are and that you “just don’t understand how or why people can be like this” without trying to find the answer is just words. Empty gestures. Close to meaningless and just short of useless. Are you willing to do the work to get to the point of understanding? If you aren’t, then I politely ask that you take several seats and let those of us who did the work DO the work.

As for the insulting part, do you know why I learned to try and understand why and how people think they way they do? Do you think I woke one Tuesday morning and decided , “Hey today would be a great day to learn how racists, incels, and homophobes tick. Let me head to the library!”

Uh, nah, bro.

I learned because for most of my life I’ve had to quickly determine if the person walking toward me means to harm me or is just being friendly. I’ve had to quickly decide whether the house/bar/ store I just walked into was safe for people like me or not. And I’ve had to decide whether or not a person was actually my friend or was trying to set me up for something horrible later. So, if my having this understanding and ability to see things and people for what and who they are bothers you that much…

You can miss me with that too.

*Y’all = “some of y’all” in this instance, but that phrase would have ruined the flow.

 

 

 

 

So I’m Still…

trying to figure all this out. LOL

I get asked a lot of questions.

What’s your favorite color?*

Who’s your favorite band?**

Do you prefer Pepsi or Coke?***

Why do you always wear bandanas?****

For the most part, I just answer the question and keep it pushin’. But there’s one question that makes me cringe when dread whenever it’s asked because I never know how to answer it.

What do you do for a living?

UUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

Now you might be wondering, “Kim, why is this question so hard? Surely you know how you make a living!”

Well, yeah, of course, I do. But explaining it to people…

UUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!

So, why is answering this question so difficult? Let me show you:

Person: Hi, Normal Person, what do you do for a living?

Normal Person: I’m an accountant.

Person: Oh, cool.

—————————————-

Person: Hi Another Normal Person, what do you do for a living?

Another Normal Person: I’m an attorney.

Person: Oh, okay. Cool.

———————————————————-

Person: Hi Yet Another Normal Person, what do you do for a living?

Yet Another Normal Person: I’m a teacher/ mechanic/stylist/Walmart Greeter’

Person: Very good.

———————————————————-

Person: So, Kim, what do you do for a living?

Me: Do I tell them I’m a writer? If I say I’m a writer, which kind do I tell them? Copywriter? Articles? My books? Do I tell them I’m a mystery shopper? A former teacher turned craft pro? A YouTuber? What? WHHHAAAAATTTT?!?

Person: You DO know what you do, right?

Me: <laughing nervously> Of course I do! I’m an animal anesthesiologist.

No, I’ve never actually told anyone that, but I’ve been sorely tempted. It would be easier for me to fake my way through that conversation than to explain how one person has five different professions (with countless subsets). Because that’s just not normal.

Yeah, I know, neither am I, but that’s not what we’re talking about right now.

Or is it?

Sometimes, and especially when I have my planner sitting in front of me, I wonder why and how I manage to juggle all this. Some days are better than others, but for the most part, I manage it. (I’m kinda taking a break from YouTube at the moment until I can upgrade my equipment or at least settle on a place to film on a regular basis.) I guess I am not a one job/career kinda person. I’ve got too many interests and way too short an attention span to just do one job every day for the rest of my life. I thrive on trying to write blog posts and articles, complete mystery shops, and still have enough time to get my items made so I can sell them (and donate part of the proceeds to charity). I’m no longer in an actual classroom anymore, but writing, YouTube, and even mystery shopping to an extent help to educate people. I cannot imagine my life without all of these things in it.

So, instead of fighting the steering wheel, I’m going to turn into the skid. The next time someone asks:

Someone: Hey, Kim, what do you do for a living? I’m going to respond with:

I’m an unconventional educator who uses words, videos and covert operations to inform the masses. Oh and I make and sell stuff.

Then while they’re unpacking all that, I’ll run away.

*Red

**Too many to choose.

***Coke

****Stay tuned…

 

My Return to the Beginning of the End of the Start

Hi everyone,

They say the first step to conquering a problem is admitting you have one.

I’m floundering.

There I said it.

I have spent the last couple of years going through the motions. I’m all of the things I said I wanted to be, but low-level and or barely. I’m kinda tired of being a “kinda” writer. I’m tired of being a “sorta” jewelry/accessory designer and creator. I’m tired of “kinda” dating, being “sorta” social…

This ish is getting old. No, it’s been old, I’m just owning up to it.

I thought posting videos on YouTube was the answer, but all it really did was illuminate the fact that I had NO IDEA where I wanted my life to go. I want the platform to mean something, to stand for something. I want to use my channel to ultimately help those who need it.

But damn if I can figure out how to get there.

So, I’m starting over. No “sorta” or “kinda,” just “.”.

However, I’m not sure where THE beginning is. If I take it ALLLL the way back, I caught the craft and writing bug practically at the same time. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 10, and I first discovered crafts were cool that same year as well.

I honed my writing and I know that my passions lie in personal essays and How-to/Help topics. Anything that helps someone is fair game. Craft wise, I lean toward crochet, chainmaille and Native American loom beadwork. I do other crafts as well, but these are the ones I always have supplies on hand for projects when the mood strikes.

As a weird aside, I include commentary on political and social issues a form of helping people. We’ll never get along without an open dialogue and free communication.

So, to summarize:

I’m a crafty writer who enjoys helping people via crafts and social commentary via YouTube.

A video of my making scarves with beaded uplifting quotes for everyone coming soon!

I kid…I kid.

Sorta.

I do want to figure out a way to combine all these interests. So, maybe I’ll record (a how-to?) me making a craft item that ties directly into a social issue I want to discuss, sell it and donate part of the proceeds to a charity.

Huh…

That just might work. What do you think? Let me know!

Anyway, this is my attempt to figure out my life and help others at the same time. Think it could work? Think it has a fighting chance? Again, let me know.

 

 

So…About These New Ideas…

I’ve been hinting at these new plans and ideas I had about my career, so I figured I’d let you all in on the secret.

Those of you who are friends with me on Facebook might remember that I said I was thinking about starting a vlog about my dating experiences. The idea was met with high praise.

Well…

I’m gonna do it. I’m going to start a channel on YouTube called Unapologetically Mocha. In case that sounds familiar, that’s also the name of my Instagram page. It will also soon be an active Twitter account and a Facebook page.

Yeah, I’m going big with this one.

…

Provided I work up the nerve to post a video.

Those of you who know me realize that I hate Hate HATE how I look in photos. Well that goes double when it comes to video. I just think I look goofy.

But…

I truly have a lot I want to say and I really think video is the perfect format for it, so I’m taking the advice from a book that I recently read How to Be a Bawse: I’m going to step out of my comfort zone. It’s the only way I’m going to accomplish what I want to achieve.

Sidenote: Read this book. It’s awesome. Lilly is awesome. I’ve watched her videos a ridiculous number of times.

Back to my plan.

I’m writing the script for my first video now. I’m picking out my outfit. I’m deciding what to do with my hair. I might even get a manicure.

Yeah, it’s THAT serious. 🙂

But once I get past the first two or three videos, I’m gonna need help from you guys. I need ideas. What do you want to see? Anything in particular you want me to talk about? Keep in mind, this won’t be just about dating…

Have you ever been in the middle of a conversation via email, text, or Facebook and while you’re typing out a lengthy reply you realize, “This would be so much easier if I just picked up the phone?” Well, consider my vlog that phone call. I’m going to talk about my dating adventures plenty. But I’ll also rant about other things….think of my vlog as an extension of my Facebook page. Same content, just in video format.

Anyway, I just wanted to *finally* let you in on what I was planning. Like I said, I’m writing the script now, so watch this space and my Facebook page for the launch date.

I hope you come with my on this new adventure. I haven’t been this excited about a new venture in a long time. And seriously, if you have ideas about what something you want to see, let me know, either as a comment here or on my Facebook page.

Chat soon! 🙂

 

 

Two Weird Experiences and the Lessons That Came with Them

Hiya peeps!

I’ve had an interesting (last) week. Things have happened that have made me really think about what I want to do with my life and my career. I’ve done a lot of soul searching and I think I’m formulating a great plan that will allow me to accomplish my goals while contributing to the greater good. I can’t wait to tell y’all about it.

Next week. Later this week.

Sorry guys, but I have other things to discuss today. Don’t worry, they’re just as important and interesting.

And if not, you’ll definitely be back next week later this week to hear all about my plans.

<insert evil genius laugh here>

Anyway…

I want to talk about two things I experienced in the last couple of weeks that have made me wonder about the state of the world. I’ll explain and then offer commentary at the end.

On Mother’s Day, I was coming back from a trip to the store to pick up aluminum foil. We were having a cookout and you can never never have too much aluminum foil. As I drove, I noticed a man who was surrounded by scattered grocery items and a bicycle that was sitting on its side. I surmised that he had fallen off his bike and his purchases had been tossed during the fall.

There wasn’t any place for me to pull over and he was standing in front of a driveway so I had to drive to the end of the block, turn around in the gas station parking lot, double back and park in the lot next to the one where the man was standing. As I pulled into the lot, another car pulled in in front of me. We both got out and approached the man, both of us armed with an empty plastic bag. By the time we got to him, another  person was helping him retrieve his groceries. We joined in and helped pick up his items. The whole time the man just kept saying, “I can’t believe I fell over like that.” While we were rebagging his items, a car slowed down and lowered its window. A woman offered the man a canvass shopping bag. He tried to turn it down, but she said, “so you have something sturdier for the next time.” As we all walked away in our different directions, I felt like humanity wasn’t all lost and that humans still had a fighting chance.

And then I went to Sheetz.

Now, I’m not bashing the entire company. I’m not even bashing everyone at this particular location. But I am bashing one employee from now until the next 6th Saturday in June. I ordered food online from Sheetz. As I was leaving to pick it up, the daughter’s boyfriend asked if I would grab him a beer. I said “sure,” he handed me the money, I left and headed for the store.

I get there, and it’s business as usual. Lots of teens and 20-somethings. Gas and oil workers grabbing their greasy food and cases of beer. Exhausted looking parents getting gas and snacks and doing a last potty break before getting on the road.

I get in line so I can pay for my food. There’s three or four black guys in line in front of me. Probably Diva’s age, or a little younger. Well one of them apparently didn’t have an id, so the cashier refused to serve any of them. They were annoyed and disappointed, but they weren’t making a scene.  While I was waiting in line, I remembered I actually wanted a raspberry ale, so I jumped out of line, got my ale and got back in line. At this point, the guys had left.

I get to the counter and I pay for my food and alcoholic beverage. The cashier was pleasant enough to me, but I could tell he was agitated about the previous customers. At this point the guys had left the store and were outside, standing by what I am guessing was their car. The cashier gave me my receipt and I ventured to the food side to wait for my order.

Once I had my food and was leaving, I realized that I forgot to buy J’s beer. Not only that, but I had left his money for his beer in the car. So I went to my car (which was parked directly in front of the doors), dropped off my stuff, grabbed J’s money and went back into the store. I walked directly back to the beer cooler, grabbed the beer and walked straight to the checkout. I said, “Okay, this is the last time you’re gonna see me in this line.”

And then then wheels fell off the bus.

Cashier: Sorry but I can’t sell this to you.

Me: Why not?

Cashier: Because if one person in the group doesn’t have ID, then I serve anyone in the group.

Me: What group? I came here by myself.

Cashier: I saw you talking to someone outside. I can’t sell this to you.

Me: No, you didn’t see me talking to anyone outside because I didn’t talk to anyone. I went to my car which is (pointing out the door) right there, dropped off what I had already purchased and came directly back in to buy what I forgot.

At this point, the realization of what he was implying set in.

Me: Oh, I get it. Since there’s a group of black guys and I’m black, we must all be together, right? So, I’m buying this one, lone 40 ouncer so they can pass it around among tbemselves?

Cashier: I can’t sell this to you. You can get as violent as you want, but it’s not going to happen.

Admittedly, I was mad. But violent? Seriously?

Me: There is nothing violent about me. I’ve said nothing violent, I’ve just called you out on your racist profiling. Funny…you didn’t have an issue with selling me the ale, but the beer is a problem? Why? I can’t drink a 40? You said you saw me talking to someone outside? Point them out. Where are they? You’ve got cameras? Let’s look at the footage. Show me who I was talking to. Please, I’m dying to know!

At this point, the manager comes over and asks what’s going on. The cashier tells him that he saw me talking to someone outside and because of that, he doesn’t want to sell me the beer.

Manager: Sorry ma’am, but if someone in the group doesn’t have id, no one in the group can be served.

This again. So, once again, I explain that I came in alone, made a purchase alone, realized I forgot to buy the beer came back in (say it with me) alone and was trying to make this last purchase…alone.

Me: And like I told the cashier, if you’ve got footage of me talking to someone during the 15 seconds it took for me to walk to my car, grab money and reenter the store, then I’d love to see it.

Manager: (looks at cashier) go ahead and sell it to her.

Cashier: (shakes head and backs away from the register): If you want to sell it to her, then you ring her out. I’m not a racist.

Me: Maybe you aren’t. And if that’s the case, then stop acting like one.

So now I’m boycotting this particular Sheetz location. I have no problem with a store adhering to an underage drinking and tobacco purchase policy. But I do have a problem with someone who uses that policy to be a douche at best, racist at worst.

So, my takeaways from these two encounters:

1. there are still good people in this world who see the good in others and are willing to come together for a common goal.
2. There are still jerks in this world who will look for any reason to promote a stereotype or make negative assumptions…and then lie about it to cover their own butts.
3. The gas station down the street from Sheetz has the same beer.

Later this week I’ll be back with some announcements and to fill you in on some other things going on with me. Until then, have a good week! 🙂

Hi!

Yeah, I know…it’s been awhile. If you follow me on Facebook, you’ve read posts there that I probably should have put here. I mean it was high-quality content, why not share it with the world instead of just my FB friends and followers?

Because I’m lazy. I mean, to post here, I have to open a browser window, type http://www.wordpress.com/wordsfromawriter and then wait for the page to load, log in click “Write” and finally *finally* I can share my thoughts. Then I have to choose the platform on which to share, create tags…blah blah blah. It’s just easier to post to Facebook.

Just one problem. As much as I love Love LOVE my FB fam, posting there is a lot like preaching to the choir. When you post something and either everyone’s going to agree with you or those who don’t just keep scrolling sans comment…it becomes an echo chamber.

Now, as much as I love it when people agree with me, it quickly becomes boring AF.

So.

I’m going to make a conscious effort to post on this blog more often. You know, I’ve started two other blogs since this one and they are even more woefully neglected. If blogs were children, they’d be in foster care. If blogs were goldfish, they’d be dead. If my blogs were a carton of milk, the contents would be curdled and my face would be on the carton.

Have I sufficiently beaten the concept into the ground? Cool.

But I digress.

As usual.

Anyway.

I’m going to commit to posting here once a week, most likely on Friday. It’ll probably be some sort of round up regarding how my week went and updates about my writing work, you know, since the blog IS called Words from a WRITER. That being said, I’m going to do that right now by answer some of your most pressing questions.

Hey Kim, where’s the dating book?

I’m working on it! I vacillate between “The world could really use this book, if for no other reason, so some know they aren’t the only ones going through this,” and “What’s the freakin’ point? Our society is doomed.” The stance goes the way of my messages from guys on dating sites. This week I’ve started an interesting experiment that was based on a post based on a Twitter thread. The results have been….interesting. The experiment is ongoing, so I’ll post more about it next week, but the waves just keep ebbing and flowing in the dating pool. For example, this “gem”: (WARNING: scroll through and read this part later because *NSFW*)

I bet his mother is so proud.

Anyway, I’m sifting though messages I’ve received and putting together the dos and don’ts now. As soon as I’m done with that, I can work on the other portions of the book, such as success stories, etc.

Okay great Kim…now what about the sequel to Words from the Rents? There was supposed to be a sequel. Where is the sequel???

….it’s coming too. You see, I used up a HUGE chunk of Skip and Mary Belle’s witticisms writing the first book. They’re older…crankier…and on to me so now if I laugh at something they say, I get a stern look and “Oh sure, this is going in your next book, isn’t it?” So, I have to be covert in my collecting methods. Also, I’m thinking of incorporating more personal essays into the next one. So there will still be plenty of Skip and Mary but a. not necessarily in conversation form and b. more me. Diva coming along for the ride (grudgingly) and the grandkid is at the age where she’ll make a debut as well. All in good time, my friends. All in good time.

There is so much more I could share, but this is already a novel (with pictures!) so I’ll save them for another post. Until then (most likely next Friday but could be sooner we’ll see), thanks for sticking around and reading along. Enjoy your weekend! 🙂

 

 

 

Seven (7) in (in) Five (5)

Seven in five.

September, 2016 to February, 2017.

That’s my timeline.

“For what?” you’re wondering.

I have seven books in the works and my plan is to have them all written and published by February, 2017.

“Seven books in five months? Are you nuts?” you might be asking.

Yes, it does seem daunting. A novel length book is a minimum of 50,000 words. Multiply that by 7 and you get 350,000 words. That’s a decent amount of words.

Unless you’re a writer. On average I write 5,000-15,000 words a week, not including Facebook posts, emails, blog posts or messages. That’s 20-60k words a month, mainly about stuff I really don’t care about. In five months, that’s 100k to 300k words.

But the good news is that I don’t have to actually write that many words. Three of the books are at various stages of completion (two over 50 percent completed). Two of the books are going to be more novella length (less than 50k but more than 25k). I guesstimate having to write around 235k words between now and late January, early February. Which is more than doable.

Well, don’t overwork yourself. Don’t burn out. Pace yourself. This has been the advice from many. I appreciate the words, I know they are meant to be helpful.

But hush already. LOL This is how I want to make my living. I don’t want to write for mills and impossible clients anymore. I don’t want to spend my days writing about stuff I don’t much care about. I can deal with doing it for a few hours a week, but not all day, every day. Not anymore. I’m starting to view my work with the same disdain reserved for “traditional” work gigs. And I can’t allow that to happen.

So, I’m diving in and getting these books written. This is what I want to do with my life, it’s how I want to make a living. Are the next few months going to be easy? Nope. Have I bitten off more than I can chew? Perhaps. I can always change my schedule if I need to, but I’m going to try like hell not to do that. I’ve been saying “I’ll do it later” to my career for more years than I even want to think about. I’m staring at 50. If not now, when? If not me, who?

So, wish me luck. Ask me how things are going. Say prayers, light candles, think good thoughts as I dive into my career, the career I’ve always wanted, for what feels like the first time. I’m excited. Let’s do this!