For some time now I've been trying to decide who I was and why I was put on this earth. I'm not sure if it's only writers and other creative people who struggle with this or if it's just me. I have noticed over the past years that only those individuals who have really suffered in their life make anything of themselves. At times, I think this must be my problem, I've not suffered enough. And then, I look at my life and think maybe I have suffered too much and am just not willing to deal with it.
I have come to terms with a few things in my life. Other things I am trying to deal with. I use the word 'trying' because mostly I 'try' to ignore the situations in hopes that they will go away.
I dream of a perfect life. I know that is not possible. In lieu of that, I have decided to start a 'Suffrage Club'.
If you've ever watched the first and I mean 'original' Star Wars, that would be Episode IV, then you will know immediately of what I speak. C3PO and R2D2 have gotten themselves in to a fix. C3PO turns to R2D2 and says, "it's our lot in life to suffer." That's me.
I don't want or expect you to feel sorry for me, just understand me. On the outside, I have a pretty good life. It's inside where I suffer. Things I wanted to do, things I wished I'd done, things I'd like to do, but afraid I never will. Sometimes it feels like someone has attached a vaccum cleaner hose to me and is sucking the life out of me.
And Lord knows if it's not the family out to get me, it's the government. Currently with gas prices the way they are and various other things going on (you know what I mean), I think the government will probably win. But that's another blog.
For now, I'm off to write in my journal. See if I can make any sense of this day.
Until next time, keep writing.

Jumping Jiminy! I can't believe two weeks have passed. I guess that's what happens when you are busy. I just got back from the Oklahoma Writer's Federation Conference. It turned out to be an interesting weekend. Met a lot of wonderful editors and agents. Not sure that I will ever have anything to send them, but they are nice to know. Really a great group of kids. Met another sweet, sweet writer. He was an editor, but left that job to write full-time. Good for him.
Since I got home late Sunday, I have been trying to get through my email. Good grief. I have been offered a penis enlargement, an 8.5 million dollar recovery fee from the Sudanese Prime Minister, aaaannnnddd have been told I applied for a bonus job and got it. Can't remember applying, sure don't need a penis, and about the 8.5...weelllll, I'm not going to touch that with a ten foot poll. Yes, interesting emails indeed.
While I was gone, my grandbaby had an accident. He broke out one of his front baby teeth. He also ran a low grade fever (102) all weekend. I swear. I leave for four days and the world falls apart. Have been having to coddle baby. He is very, very grumpy. Oh well, that's what grammy's are for, to make the world a better place.
Must run. He's up from his nap and needs a little loving.
Next time I'm on, I'll give you an update on the word count of the trucker book. It's slooooowwwwly coming along.
Until then, keep writing~

For those of you who follow this blog, you know I have been watching my grandbaby. He is such an inquisitive little man. Recently, when he started talking, he came up with a phrase that now he is saying it, we hear everywhere. He'll see something he's interested in and he'll point with his pointy finger and ask 'what'z dat?' Of course, we tell him and he'll study whatever he pointed at like he's taking it all in, seeing it for the first time, even if he sees and asks the same question every day.
Now, whether we're watching a movie or the news, we all laugh when we hear "what's that?" My husband and I even catch each other saying 'what's that?'
I find that an excellent phrase for writers. Sometimes we need to see things with new eyes like a baby, ask 'what'z dat?' and study the item until we are satisfied and ready to move on.
Until Next Time~

Just when you think your life is safe to start living, reality comes and punches you in the face. Isn't that the way it always is?
I recently watched an episode of "Boston Legal" where Allen Shore was afraid of Bobo the blow-up Clown. For those of you unaware of who or what Bobo is, let me give you a description. He is a blow-up clown with a weight in the bottom. When someone hits him, he reels back falling to the ground, but always pops back up with a cheesy grin on his face.
I have been on both sides of Bobo, feeling I was like him and now feeling the world and life's trials are like Bobo. I know everyone faces difficulties, but lately it's like whatever I do, how ever hard I hit the world in the face and knock my problems down, it pops back up with that stupid grin, mocking me and saying, 'here's something else.'
Then there are the many years, I have felt like Bobo, getting knocked down, but then popping back up. I consider myself to have a thick skin, but even thick skinned people can wear thin. It's not that the publishing world has been cruel to me. Quite the opposite. I know rejection will happen there. I accept it as part of the job. It's family I'm not sure I can recover from very much longer.
Yesterday, my husband walked through the house griping about all the stuff he was having to do with this new business he is trying to start. I told him I knew what he meant because it was tough my trying to keep all the balls in the air with my writing business. He said, "yeah, we all know and if we waited for you to become a success in your business, we'd all starve."
That's the kind of attitude I've lived with for the past 15 years. He expected me to make a million dollars those first five years and when the six and seventh came along, then eleven and twelfth and I was only up to thousands, he wasn't interested in what I did anymore. As a matter of fact, I believe he has done things to purposely sabatoge my career.
These days to keep him from griping and saying crude remarks, I sneak around and write. I get up at 3 in the morning, wait until he goes to bed, or when he is gone. It's not a perfect life, but rarely is life perfect.
Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can keep bouncing back or how much longer life will keep popping back up laughing at me. And somehow, somehow, I always come back to my keyboard, ready to go, with a renewed sense of purpose, willing to try again, no matter what gets hurled my way.
What about you? Are you willing to keep popping back up, no matter what?
Going to get more consistent here. I promise.
Until Next Time, Keep Writing~

I've been intending to post here for over a week now. Like I've always said, where does the time go? I'm still behind on my current writing project. I don't know what I'm going to do about that. I woke up this morning at 2 A.M. and couldn't go back to sleep for thinking of everything I had to do today and then the book. I really do and am working on it. It is just becoming more of a chore than anything else. I think if I had more time, I'd feel better about it. As it is, I'm worried about how it's going to read and everything.
Am reading the book, "Write is a Verb". It's pretty good. Learning some things and there are some things I need to pay attention to as far as I am concerned. Currently, I'm just extremely tired, but one of these days, I'll be able to sleep all I want. I think I could function better if I could sleep. But it seems not to be in the cards for now.
Guess I better go and get on the project. I'll try to write next week.
Til Then Keep Writing~

Life is somewhat back to normal. I started a class last week. It's four weeks long, so that's not bad. The weather is getting warmer. I like that, too. I took baby out this morning, wore him out. He's taking a nap right now. Don't know how long he'll sleep, but we'll see. He was soo tired he didn't even want to finish lunch.
Read some disturbing news this past week in 'Time'. In Michael Kinsley's essay on the last page, he writes about two more biographies being exposed as fakes. I'm surprised that these people just didn't mark them as fiction...especially if like reported all the information is false. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they don't know the difference between a memoir and fiction. With that said, I'm also surprised that the editors at the houses where these books were published didn't catch something was amiss. The book, Misha: A Memoire of the Holocaust, seems hooey to me just by the description. I would like to know where they found publishing houses that don't check facts. Pooh, my publishing houses want to know why the t's are crossed and the i's are dotted. Sometimes I feel like they're going to make me prove it's really me who turned in my manuscripts. Whew!
I am stunned that people still get away with 'fudging the truth' in published books. It boggles the mind. I guess it's the old adage, 'don't believe everything you read' or get proof before you believe it.
Until Next Time
Keep Writing~

Whew! I survived last week and so far this week is going along pretty good. Friday before last my washing machine broke. The next day, Saturday, I had to load up all our clothes and take them to the laundry mat. It was pouring rain that day. Who would have thunk it?
The beginning of the week was horrendous. I had to take my daughter's cat to the vet, along with baby. Washing machine guy came later in the day. Had to go by two construction companies for my husband, two banks, the post office, and the accountants, before I dropped baby off. (Haven't gotten taxes done yet. Still working on those.)
The next day, I took my car in--with baby. We sat in the waiting area three and a half hours. They were supposed to change the oil and fix the driver's seat. after these three and a half hours, nothing was done. I had to take it back FRIDAY for oil change and seat fixed.
Wednesday, I was supposed to take the cat back to the vet. Ha! I woke up at 2:30 A.M. to a banging noise. To make a long story short when I finally woke up and started down the hall, it was to the sound of a spewing noise coming from the kitchen. A water pipe broke and flooded the front part of our house. That day was spent dealing with the plumber and Blackman Mooring, sucking water out of our air vents and house.
Thursday, I made it to the Vet. That was an easy day.
Friday, we went back to the car place where we spent the biggest part of the day.
I did attempt to write. I shouldn't complain. I did get 4000 words in. Now if those words are useable remains to be seen. I've not had the heart to edit them yet.
I'm saving that for next week.
See, even writers have real, horrid lives. Ha!
Keep Writing In Spite of Everything.
Til Next Time~