Archive for the ‘writer’ Category

Mamma Said

September 15, 2012

Would you be interested in a book filled with wisdom from my mom?

 

I hate to give my mother so much credit but she was filled with succinct advice that shapes my life today.  People tell me I’m relaxed, I’m one of the happier people one knows, or similar generous comments that make me feel more well adjusted than I am.  I attribute much of my laid back personality to my mom who never let one thing quite consume her.  We would laugh at everything!

 

One night in India, my mom sister and I are crammed in the back of some bike drawn carriage at the invitation of a local we had met earlier in the day.  One traffic accident later we are stopped in the middle of the street.  Countless Indians shade their eyes as they peer into the window of three American women, one blonde.  After a seemingly eternity later with nominal communication between us and the cyclist most people would have been inpatient.  Us, we were laughing at the eyes continually evaluating us.  “So this is what it feels like to be a goldfish.”

 

My mom’s truism are even more relevant today.

* There are no accidents.

* Perception is reality.

* Hell is where all your wishes come true.

* You get what you pay for.

* Never pay retail  ~there are exceptions to this rule.

* Screw me once, shame on you, Screw me twice shame on me.

 

Advertisements

Back in the Groove

September 23, 2011

I have not been writing. Anyone following my blog here or Milf Alert can clearly see that.

I have a million and one great excuses – realistically probably a thousand or so – most of which are legitimate (i:e planning a birthday party, moving furniture, pregnancy, the doctor telling me to rest more – although this could be perceived as a motivation, a new nanny and so on), but none of which will help me finish my book or keep the creative juices flowing.

And there are plenty of decent motivations that should help me through this hump.

I think about my book, even ordered two books that seem remotely related to mine. One of them, Posh is proving to be unreadable. One would think that seeing a poorly written published book would motivate me to finish mine and seek a publisher. One would think.

I rearranged my home office, and actually have a decent desk, albeit under the staircase, and now have some surface area to work. I no longer have a door to my space so my kids have been rummaging through the drawers spilling paper clips, emptying the shredder and running off with my wrist rests. On the upside, I do feel on top of most of my office paperwork that needs attention.

Frustrated with my nearly eight year old laptop and intermittent battery, I splurged on a new macbook air, opting for the lightest computer to reduce any excuse about not wanting to carry around my bulky laptop. I’ve had a few minor hiccups with it and as a result I’m not entirely certain I want to keep it, so I’m hesitant to install Microsoft Word on it (Yes, a $1,000 plus dollar computer still requires additional basic software), as I’m limited to the number of installations.

Before I completely embrace my new computer and apply the cover which allegedly scratches the computer surface upon removal, I need to spend time on the phone with customer support. Finding a few moments when the kids leave me alone to make the call and play on the computers is usually after bedtime when I am tired, hungry and likely angry from fighting the bed time battle ritual.

A New Commitment – Sort of

May 24, 2011

I was supposed to attend a book selling seminar this past weekend. Since I’m such a commitment phobe I waited until the last minute to register – which in a parallel universe would have meant the class became full before my check arrived in the mail. No such luck. Instead the check cleared and two days prior my back went into total spasm. For those fortunate enough not to know about real back pain, I can just say that is a new level of agony. I felt paralyzed in pain.

So I missed the class, check is cashed. I’ll have to retake it later.

However, I have decided to hire a book editor to help me with my novel. I have the rough draft but not the concentration to proof read it and make the changes necessary to make it into a sellable book (the likes of which I would have learned last Saturday had I not been in bed popping Tylenols). The editor will not read all of my ramblings, loose character descriptions, or edited scenes. She will go through my draft, line edit the grammar and help me fill in scenes and story development.

I do fear that I am looking at this as a bit of a panacea – I pay editor and poof! my manuscript becomes marketable. I know more work lies ahead. It’s just a kick start – financial because the editor is not cheap and motivational because I will have a road map on how to improve. I have to imagine this is a better course of action than taking a class with an unpublished author where I spend the majority of my time giving feedback to other unpublished authors with the occasional day that said writers offer their opinions on a short excerpt of my tome.

I asked the editor if I should make some of the minor changes I had made on paper to the computer file I will send her and she gave the best answer, if I can yes if it is going to hold me up, no. She doesn’t have time to read the book until June which means I have the next few days to hunker down and edit and hopefully develop a good work habit for the summer. Worst case, I don’t and her job as an editor involves correcting a few more typos. Either way, I have to believe I am moving forward.

Writer Competition

February 15, 2011

I get so jealous when I hear of another writer working. It’s unfortunate that I do not channel this competitiveness into writing my own story.

I have dusted off my tome and think about editing it but I have not done so.

I can rationalize and say that it is resistance stopping me, but it is not enough for me to sit down and work.

It’s a shame because I am happier when I write and feel productive.

I’m doing other things like working on my real estate business but I’m not writing.

Hitler had studied to be a painter. He found it easier to go to war and kill millions than continue to paint.

I want to be the person that is introduced as having just finished/published a book. I’ve talked long enough about being a writer and writing, it would be great to have something tangible to show for it.

Writer’s write. I lament.

I can’t use my previous excuses of having a newborn or losing my mom anymore. I have help and I cannot two years after the fact use the loss of my mom as an excuse.

I am building a bathroom in my apartment because I had gotten sick of talking about it and wanted to do it. I feel the same way about writing, but I just can’t hire someone to do the work for me. I suppose I could hire an editor or a mentor or even carve out time to do my work. I just haven’t yet Perhaps soon I will tire of excuses and get back to the thrill of writing. That would be nice.

Tina Fey Fantasy

November 11, 2010

I like Tina Fey. In fact I think she is brilliantly funny, talented and frankly I’m totally envious of her career. As great as she is, there is a narcissistic part of her that thinks I’m equally as funny and talented as she. Maybe not today, as she has honed her craft over the years, but perhaps we had the same skillful seeds within us.

And I have such an ache in my heart for the writing I am not doing and the success I do not have which I attribute to the fact that I am not disciplined enough. A liberal psychopharmacologist readily prescribed me Concerta, a medicine for ADHD which I would have downed by the fistful ten years ago, I think. Now it makes me slightly speedy and feels like cheating. But if it got me to where I wanted to be…But I have not taken it in months so I remain unqualified to speak to its verity and powers it may or may not have had on my once budding writing career a decade earlier.

Two nights ago I dreamt I left a dinner of preschool parents to tell Tina Fey of my passion for writing and how much I wanted to be a sitcom writer. “I know, I know,” I said when she asked me if I knew of the demands and the salary. In my dream the salary was paltry and I dismissed the demands not thinking of my husband and kids. She told me if I really wanted to write to prove it to her and she told me to write a spec script for what seemed like the Pamela Anderson sitcom but then evolved into 30 Rock.

I sat in her office or apartment which had an incredible view of the pyramid at Museum of Natural History and some bluffs (it was a dream) until three in the morning as she guided me on plot development. “Now write it for tomorrow,” she said scribbling her phone numbers.

I hesitated briefly then acknowledged that success required sacrifices, including but not limited to postponing sleep or hobnobbing with the class parents. I felt empowered, opportunity within my grasp.

And yet I still have not looked at the rough draft of my novel hibernating on my computer.

When I awoke in the middle of the night last night, I briefly debated if I should seize the quiet and fire up the laptop. That thought lasted but a minute.

Writing is like exercise, the more one does it, the easier it is to continue, the better one, or at least I, feel and then it becomes addictive. While I can satisfy my sugar cravings, I cannot satiate this one.

Room for Improvement

September 27, 2010


As part of the Left to Write blog, I was given a free copy of Room by Emma Donoghue. The book has generated some hype recently, but I suppose a write up cover of the New York Times Book Review section will do that. I began the book late this weekend but given some fervent opposition to the book by my fellow bloggers and the late arrival of said novel, I did not finish the story narrated by a five year old boy locked in a room with his mother.

I feel badly for not completing the book, or really reading more of it. When children are pulling off their diapers sitting in wet cribs and screaming bloody murder, a book must be engaging enough to maintain my attention. Of course, as part of the Left to Write blog, I don’t have to write a report, merely a blog inspired by the book. And if I don’t? I can’t imagine my imaginary mommy friends in the blogosphere will disown me. Will you?
(more…)

How To Read

July 16, 2010

I recently started The Liars Club by Mary Karr and am struggling to read it, not because she is a bad writer, but rather because she is a great writer. Each sentence, each paragraph is constructed so poetically and succinctly and grammatically correct, I want to focus on the words and the sentence structure. The memoir is proving to be so compelling and engaging that I want to discover what happens next. I’m torn between my desire to savor the writing and devour the story. (more…)

End of a Chapter

June 17, 2010

I’ve been writing for NYC Mom’s Blog, a site for mommy (and daddy) bloggers, part of the Silicon Valley Moms Blog. In many ways I felt like an impostor on the site.

I’d write my minimum two posts a month, sometimes even sneaking in a third and read about *real* mom bloggers who offered giveaways or generated income from their sites. And me, I’m just a mom from New York who would really like a book deal and manages to squeeze in a bit of writing here and there. When my mom passed, I debated keeping my bimonthly commitment to the site but forced myself to do so. In writing the posts, I found myself revisiting my other blog sites, this one and Milf Alert.
(more…)

If I had an Editor

February 8, 2010

If I had an editor I’d write more. I’d reread what I wrote. I’d make changes before I hit send or publish or whatever button sends my writing into the world for readers.

I’d write more. I’d write regularly.

But I do not have an editor. My fan club is small. Non-existent. But I still must write.

I’ve been writing more regularly which makes me want to write more. Like the exercise conundrum. The more you work out the easier it is to motivate to work out again.
(more…)

Writing through fear

December 19, 2009

My mom wondered why I had such a hard time writing. And if I did, perhaps that was a sign that I was not meant to be a writer. She questioned if I feared success as much as I feared failure.
(more…)