Me Fail

Consider this the public stocks. A place of learning.

Someone please throw tomatoes at me – preferably rotten ones. Have I ever mentioned I hate tomatoes?

Recently, I swapped 50 pages with someone. We were trying each other on for size as CPs. Now, I have a long sordid history trying to find a great critique partner… I have searched the mountains high and the valleys low on my quest for a CP that *fits*. So when I glimpsed this person on the horizon and thought, “Hmmm…” I held back hope.

BUT SHE WAS WONDERFUL. She ~got~ my writing, had ~amazing~ useful suggestions, and did I mention she RAWKS? I was so impressed by her speed and skill, even before she was finished, that I hopped to it and completely immersed myself in her work. And IT WAS WONDERFUL TOO. Her story grabbed hold of me, her characters made me feel…I turned on Word comments and went to town with praise, and suggestions where needed.

Then I wrote this special someone a big long email going over the major points, but saying “more details in comments.” And then I hit send.

For a whole week, I made sure to tell her what a great CP she was, and how her comments were so helpful! I fixed all the places she found in my own 50 pages that needed work. Then I sent it BACK to her, and she read through AGAIN in one night!

And THEN she mentioned (with a true honest internet smile) that she couldn’t wait to see the feedback I had for HER book.

And I was like ??? And then I was like (O_O) And THEN I was like *DIES*

I went through EVERY email we exchanged (there were many – we have much in common), and there were many attached files…but not the 50 pages I supposedly sent with praise and comments! So in thirty seconds I ATTACHED, wrote self-berating email, and hit send.

And the best part is…she is STILL amazing…and STILL talking to me!

So the moral of this blog entry is…RECIPROCATE. And even when you THINK you’ve done it right…CHECK. No one wants to lose an amazing CP like a green flash on the horizon. I am lucky my heretofore-CP-luck didn’t catch up with me! This MAY in fact, be the start of something beautiful… :)

Short Term Memory

There are certain routine tasks I perform EVERY DAY like, locking my house behind me. But some days…I have to go "check" several times to be sure I’ve actually done them. I KNOW this is obsessive-compulsive behavior, but it doesn’t seriously interfere with my life…yet.

But honestly, some things I do daily, like feeding my dogs, taking medication, or whatever just BLUR in my mind. I stand there with the dog food bowls in my hands thinking, "Did I feed them this morning, or was that yesterday?" And yunno, the dogs are looking at me like, We’re not telling.

So this morning I *knew* I hadn’t fed them, so I go about getting their dry food and putting the tea kettle on so I can pour hot water over it (Mmmmm…yummy). Then I’m Twittering, and LJing, and on Verla’s…but I return to the kitchen (mostly for more coffee) and see the bowls…and the stove is OFF…and the water has been poured…and I’m like WHO CAME IN HERE AND DID THIS???? Cuz I am alone!!

I have absolutely no memory of the kettle whistling, or pouring the water…except the big memory of having done it thousands of times. Anyway, moral of the story is: You CAN creep yourself out at 7:45AM with absolutely no help from zombies, or murderers, or vampires or ANYTHING besides your subconscious…if you’re me.

More coffee….


 I am only here to procrastinate. With the rewrite finished and only revisions ahead of me, I am gripped by fear every time I open the Word document. I’ve read all the message boards. I’ve read all the blogs. I’ve eaten everything there is to eat (and more). I…haven’t done the chores I should do. I know once I get going it will be fine. I hope. 

I will remember why I love the story. 

The faster I return to it, the faster I can send it to someone - Which is a whole new bottle of bubbly fears. I think this is all the fault of daydreaming. When I can’t write during the day, my head goes up in the clouds to lofty places I shouldn’t let it go. It explores the uncharted territory of a finished manuscript. I pull it back down over and again, but it is full of hot air. So perhaps my head is the balloon and the MS is a big sharp needle. And this is about to get very, very messy.