at the library.
I have one and a half hours before my first PTO meeting.
Must. Write.
Will have 2 hours after PTO to write.
I’ll check in later. After I kill the guy two tables over listening to Usher on his MP3 player so loud that I can sing along…
Writing
I almost made my goal yesterday. I actually completed a scene which completed a chapter, but I did not write an entire chapter.
As my daddy always said, “Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”
So, today’s goal: complete 1 chapter.
Other
It’s storming today in Arkansas, and boy am I glad. We’ve desperately needed the rain as well as the cooling temperatures. It came a quick flood yesterday afternoon. A short burst of angry rain that nearly washed us off the road as we drove toward Rader’s soccer practice. Of course, by the time we arrived at the fields, the rain was over, which was great, because Rader really needed to practice.
He did well during practice but when the coach made him run a lap of the 3 fields, he nearly died. We told him during the last part of summer during his slouching, eating, and video game phase that soccer was gonna kill him if he didn’t get outside and run a little. Well, he figured it out real quick last night.
Ian started Cross Country yesterday, too. His coach said he hit that 1st mile with no problem, but about a quarter into the 2nd mile: problem. It seemed the summer couch potato lifestyle came back and bit him on the arse as well. LMAO. He runs 3 days a week at school. They’ll both be running with me the other days. I’m thinking being out run by your big momma might be incentive to get into shape. We’ll see.
Last night, after the kids went to bed, I settled in with my Kresley Cole book (I’m so gonna stalk her. She’s like awesome and totally in need of a new BFF. ) I was reading about this hot Scottish Vampire while the rain drummed soothingly on the tin roof of the porch when all of a sudden this loud freaking CRASH and BOOM shook the house. I thought a deer had crashed through the back porch. I turned on the light with the full expectation of finding a terrified 30 point buck thrashing around the patio.
Nothing.
Hmmmm.
So, we traipse into the backyard with our flashlight and began to investigate. We saw a very large tree limb on the roof of the patio. As we’re standing there, we hear a very loud CRRRRRRRAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKK and another limb falls, scaring the piss out of us all. Thankfully, nobody was hurt, well except for the patio roof.. It was so loud it woke the kids, but they quickly got over it and went back to sleep.
And I settled back in with my sexxxxy vampire and the steady drumming of rain. With a glass of wine for my nerves.
I write. My goal: 1 chapter.
I’ll report back when that chapter is completed. If you don’t hear from me in a couple of days, you’ll know I’ve drowned in the white space.
After 12 hours and one book on CD…I made it home. Funny how the trip down didn’t take near the amount of time the trip home took. I guess driving while juiced up on adrenaline makes a difference.
Last week was an unbelievable blast. Debauchery and gluttony ruled the roost and a blood oath was taken by each of the very willing participants that details of the trip would never be given to any outsiders.
It’s a shame I can’t speak of such things. Truly. I have great pictures memories.
Today is my official first day as a fulltime writer. Of course, I had to fix Mom’s computer and I have to buy groceries, but my goal is 3 hours of writing today. I wrote some last week…not nearly as much as I should have though. I did discover that it is difficult to type while holding a beverage in each hand.
I went back to the gym today. My week of sin carried over to my eliptical time. I could only do 20 minutes today and it felt like I was slogging through wet sand. I’ll work my way back up to the half hour. Maybe tomorrow.
Today is the end of an era. I’m leaving the cozy comfort of a steady paycheck and jumping head first into the murky pond of full-time writing.
It’s bittersweet, really. I have been working at the same place for almost 7 years and I’ve been in the corporate world for much longer. Those of you who have worked in Corporate America know that the movie Office Space is unfortunately, very true to life.
I won’t miss that part.
But I will miss my friends and daily human interaction. Starting next week, I’ll have lots of daily interaction with imaginary people…many of whom happen to be vampires. Could be tricky. Especially when the line between imaginary and real begins to blur…
This is the beginning of a dream come true…but in many ways, it’s a scary dream. I have to watch my spending (what???? I’ll be in a city with malls and a Target and I can’t shop???) I’ll have to put myself on a writing schedule (what??? I can’t do the when it feels right I’ll do it method anymore?) and I’ll have to be a single parent for a while until the house sells. Totally weird.
Anyway, to my friends: Don’t forget about me! I’ll miss you!
This is my last week at work and it feels a little weird. As of August 6, I will be a full-time writer and I almost don’t know how to process that.
I love the idea that I’ll be able to take my kids to school while wearing my pjs, come home, stay in my pjs, drink coffee, and daydream. Then write my daydreams down.
Totally a dream job.
Try not to be jealous. It’s hard, I know.
Meanwhile, this will be my last week to deal with expense reports, sales guys, accounts payable, vendor billing, and cash receipts.
I’ll miss my co-workers…but I won’t miss my job. (sorry, boss. I know you understand. Love you, mean it…)
1 day down…4 to go…Not to rub it in or anything, but
IN YOUR FACE! IN YOUR FACE! IN YOUR FACE!
I did a bad, bad thing.
I misspelled my new BFF’s name in my former posts. What kind of BFF does that make me?
Michael Hauge (nice ass) is allowing me to make it up to him. He is a much better BFF than I. (Even if he is a pushover for any broad with a boa….) Who can blame him, though? I’ve touted the magic of the feather boa for as long as I can remember.
If you are a writer and you haven’t checked out his nice ass books because you think they are for screen writers only, then you’re missing out.
So to wrap up the groveling. I’m a tart with a boa and I misspelled his name. He writes awesome books and has a great ass sense of humor.
How’s that for an apology?
I loathe packing. I loathe unpacking even more. Usually, Fishdog packs /unpacks for me (cuz I’m a spoiled little princess diva…but at least I know that about myself and am totally okay with it. And c’mon, you’re only calling me names because you’re envious. It’s okay. I totally understand. You can’t help it that you’re a hater.) Anyway, since I’m going to RWA’s conference next week without the Fishdog, I’m packing solo. It sux. So I thought I’d procrastinate take a break from packing to blog about packing.
People tend to get a little knotted up about what to wear to these conferences. We’re all writers. Many of us roll out of bed and into the chair only changing clothes when we have to leave the house. So it cracks me up when I hear the “this is a professional conference so you must dress as a professional writer would” argument. Um. You know I write in my underwear, right? does that make me less professional because I sit at the computer wearing my Hanes Her Way? Frankly, I’m thinking that you guys want me to wear more than that when I’m at the conference. I could be wrong. I suppose we’ll see next week…
Professionalism is in the eye of the beholder. It’s in how you carry yourself. It’s not in what you wear. I promise. If you’re confident and happy, you’ll present yourself as such, even if you’re wearing a potato sack. If you’re a dried up negative bitty who can’t bother with a sincere smile but you’re wearing couture, the only thing people will notice is your grim attitude and then comment on what a shame it is to waste such nice clothing on such a rotten egg.
This year I’m packing a few dresses and skirts because those are the clothes that fit me. (did I meantion I’m a size smaller this year?) The last two years I wore jeans and capri pants and nice shirts. (usually low cut shirts because that’s how I roll. When you have tits like mine, it’s best to show them off–you know what I’m sayin’? And I’m not the only one, as witnessed from last year’s conference… Don’t hate us cuz we have great cleavage.) So I’ve packed my nice clothes in my hang-up bag and now I’m working on the suitcase. Did I mention how much I hate packing?
Okay, I’m done. I’ve procrastinated put off packing long enough. I’m totally looking forward to the conference but I’m not looking forward to the rest of the night filling my suitcase.
Yeah yeah, I know. Bad Mel.
Sorry.
I’ve been really busy. REALLY busy.
Mark had his 20 year reunion, so we were in Little Rock for that. We were busy all weekend long and frankly, I could’ve used another couple of days to recover.
The next weekend we drove the boys to camp, also in Arkansas. So we drove to Little Rock, spent the night, then drove to Subiaco to drop the boys off. Rader for 1 week, Ian for 2.
During the week without kids, we started working on the house…because we’ve decided to move and we want to put the house on the market by the middle of July. Where are we moving? you ask. Well, back to Arkansas, of course. It’s not like we’re not really living there already this summer.
Since Rader was only going to be at Camp for one week, we had to go back to pick him up the next weekend. Mark went so I could stay and paint trim and clean.
We had to clean because that next week, we were hosting the British Soccer Camp coaches again. Remember last year?
So, all last week we hosted Rob and Del. They were super great guys. I’ll be posting some pics soon. I faltered in my British Lad blogging this year. I feel like I failed our newest family members. Sorry, guys. There were 6 coaches this year, and one night, they all came over for pizza. (we were supposed to grill out but Mother Nature had other plans, so Papa Johns came through with some online ordering and pizza delivery…) The other guys were Blaine, Danny, Chris, and Eddie. A good lot, but not as rowdy as last year’s group. Probably a good thing since I never quite recovered from last year. LOL
I left early Friday to head back to Little Rock (seeing a pattern here?) I did a little shopping because I am one size smaller and don’t have a lot of clothes. (Yay me. Like how I worked that in?) On Saturday, I picked Ian up from camp and we had lunch with my BFF from high school and her son, then we went to the liquor store to pick up some economy size booze for my other friend here in Oxford (not good prices here in town) then drove the 6 hours home–where we proceeded to have a Die Hard movie marathon to prepare ourselves for hitting the late matinée today for Die Hard 4.
Next weekend I drive back to Little Rock for a baby shower for my college roommate and then fly to DFW for RWA’s National Conference. I will be blogging much more regularly, I promise.
So–if I have any readers left, tell me, what’s new?
While I’m at home trying to heal myself, I thought I’d order you guys to buy my friend’s book. We call her Naughty Kate for a reason, you know…. Buy it now:
Where Have all the Cowboys Gone? (Cheek) (Paperback) by Kate Pearce (Author)
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, unless you’re Lauren
Redstone. In her case, a little klutziness at a hotel bar turns into an unexpected opportunity to indulge in her most erotic fantasy – sex with a real, honest-to-goodness cowboy. When Lauren wakes up the next morning, she discovers she’s gotten more than a night of incredible passion – she’s also sporting a brand new, sparkling gold wedding band.
Grayson Turner never expected a woman like Lauren to literally fall into his lap. He may have only recently traded his pinstriped suits for a dusty Stetson, but if the lady wanted a cowboy, he figured he fit the bill well enough. This was Vegas, after all, and marriage to this sexy woman fits his goals even better than a single hot night in the desert.
But Lauren’s plans don’t include a lifetime commitment to one man. Not when she has a nice safe life with her retro props business and a firm desire to stay far away from controlling men like her father. Love isn’t even a factor in her game plan. But her sexy cowboy isn’t ready to fold his hand just yet. Can he convince her that true love always wins the game in the end?
Bitchin' Fiction: Musings by author Melissa McKenzie / Melissa Francis 