Obligatory New Year's Post

First, Happy (belated) Holidays.  December was a full on bat shit crazy month for me.  Not only was I working on revisions, but I also had to, you know, be a mom and play Santa and bake cookies until my eyes crossed and attend school functions and family gatherings and vacuum up pine needles and keep She Who Refuses To Sleep Like A Normal Human from climbing in the dishwasher.  It was only slightly daunting, to say the least.  But I survived.  And only had to slip myself in the night deposit box at the local mental institution once.  Woohoo.

And second...Happy New Year.  It's 2012.

That looks weird, doesn't it?  2012?  Remember when it was 1989, and the thought of 2012 sounded so space age and futuristic?  Like we'd all have robot maids and we'd race around town in hovercrafts.

Wait, can you race a hovercraft?  Or does it just...hover?

Whatever, my point is, it's 2012 and, aside from the pending apocalypse the Mayans have been good enough to schedule for us in December, I'm feeling like it's going to be a pretty good year.  My goals are fairly simple:

Write.  Write.  Write.  Eat sushi.  Hug my kids.  Write.  See a movie.  Write.  Get a tattoo.  Write.  Write.  Watch Big Bang Theory.  Write.  Write.  Have dinner with friends.  Write.  Write.  Write.  Drink beer.  Write.  Write.

So, there you have it.  I feel confident I can achieve every single one of those goals.  And many can be done at the same time (except for seeing a movie and getting a tattoo.  Probably a bad idea.  Plus, the other movie goers might find the buzzing irritating).

I'm also hoping the year brings me lots of warm fuzzies.  You can never have too many warm fuzzies, in my opinion.

Grabbing the Hatchet

Shhhh....She Who Refuses To Sleep Like A Normal Human is actually sleeping like a normal human. Perhaps it's because I altered her DNA by pumping her full of cider mill donuts.  See?

Yep, all that stuff around her mouth is pure sugar.  I know, you're in awe of my parenting skills.  It's fine.  I'm used to it. 

So, I thought I'd take this opportunity to share with you my current query stats so far:

Number of queries sent: 44
Number of rejections: 24
Number of full requests: 7
Number of R&Rs: 1
Pounds of chocolate consumed: never mind
Amount of profanity hissed when opening inbox to a new email and discovering that, instead of a response from an agent, some prince in Nigeria wants to give me a million dollars: HUGE

So, as you can see from the stats, particularly the R & R, I'm diving back into my ms to make a few tweaks (or hack the living crap out of it.  Ya know, which ever feels right). 

What dreams may come...

The other night, after a reckless Kit-Kat binge, I had a bizarre dream.  I was tending bar at a party in a hotel.  All the of the party goers were writers (except for one person - the lady who mans the self check-out station at my local grocery store was there standing off in the corner, giving me the evil eye as she always does.  Not sure if she's just a grumpy person or if I look like someone who might try and steal lettuce).  The party goers would order their drinks and then get very upset with me because all I had to mix drinks together was ice and maple syrup.  Trying to deflect their irritation with me, I handed them each a fake mustache from under the bar.  When they'd put them on, they'd each get a brilliant idea for a book.  They were so distracted by their new idea that they forgot all about the lack of alcohol. 

Then I looked down and I didn't have feet.  (This happens a lot in my dreams.  Not sure what it means.)

Of course, at one point in the dream, I tried putting a mustache on and...nothing.  Zip.  Nada.  Suddenly, stink-eye lady from the grocery store was bartending next to me, and she said, "It only works on them.  They're real writers." 

Wow...bite me, stink-eye lady.

I'm sure the dream would have gone on if She Who Refuses To Sleep Like A Normal Human hadn't jarred me awake with a swift whack in the face (yes, She Who Refuses To Sleep Like A Normal Human ends up in our bed almost every night in an effort to coax her into sleeping more.  It rarely works, btw.).  But, honestly, my subconscious wouldn't have needed to elaborate any further.  I know what it all means (except for the missing feet thing).  I've been querying my book and, of course, it's a trying experience.  Stacks of rejections, handfuls of requests, more rejections, more requests...  It's all good and I'm so very grateful for the whole experience, but, one minute you're feeling like it could actually happen, and the next you're feeling like you want to crawl into a corner with a gigantic box of Hostess products.  (Okay, I usually have the urge to break into Hostess products regardless of whether I'm up or down, but you get the idea.) 

Regardless, I may venture out to Target and hit the Halloween clearance bins for a fake mustache.  You know...just to see what happens...

Some things I've learned in the last few months...

 - I can write/rewrite a book with a baby climbing all over me

 - I can write/rewrite a book with a baby climbing all over me while being a total sleep deprived zombie

 - Replacing every meal with a double tall iced latte is a great way to lose five pounds fast

 - The world didn't actually end the first day I had to drop my son off at kindergarten, even though I was absolutely positive it would.

 - Sometimes, someone you thought you could count on just doesn't come through.  And that's okay. (...sort of)

 - Sometimes, someone you thought you could count on does come through, and it is so very full of awesome.

 - I still can't read while I'm on the treadmill.  My brain is just not advanced enough.

 - I can eat cider mill donuts until I throw up

 - I cannot stop watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey.  I can't.  I've tried.  It's just not happening.

 - Sometimes I feel proud that I've written three books and, though I have yet to be picked up by an agent, I have a handful who love my writing and are waiting for me to hit the right story.

 - Sometimes I feel utterly pathetic that I've written three books and have yet to land an agent and I get so frustrated and fed up that I want to throw my computer in the garbage, grow a beard and join some traveling freak show. 

 - When the aforementioned frustration sets in and I swear I will never, ever, ever, ever write anything ever again, I still wake up the next morning with the little bug in my brain spinning away at another idea for a book.  

 - My daughter - aka She Who Refuses to Sleep Like a Normal Human - will, in fact, eat the dirt out of my potted bay laurel tree when I'm not looking.

 - Having a dance-off with zombies to Bad Romance by Lady Gaga is a really good way to prepare for the zombie apocalypse

 - Charles Dickens is still my favorite writer.  

 - As much as I want to, I still can't watch Ghost Hunters without hiding in my husband's armpit.  

How about you?  Learned anything new in the last few months? 

The end...sort of

Ladies and gentlemen, members of my fanbase (you there, Mom?), people who Google things like "dry heaving my way to the finish line" and end up on my blog...I would like to officially announce that the book is done.

DONE!!!!!

I mean, done, and ready for beta read, which means it's still going to get final edits, but it's done enough for other people to look at it, which is a wonderfully warm and fuzzy feeling.*  I can honestly say that I am happy with the whole thing.  It's an unusual feeling.  My last two books, even when I began querying, there was something about each of them that I felt a little insecure about.  But I don't feel that with this book at all.  Maybe I've finally got a winner.

Or maybe it's the sleep deprivation. 

Speaking of which, I actually think my head might fall off from lack of sleep.  She Who Refuses to Sleep Like a Normal Human has been in rare form this last week.  And to make it worse, I'm so tired when I'm up in the middle of the night with her that, to stay awake, I subject myself to reality TV on Bravo.  I'm pretty sure Most Eligible Dallas is made completely of evil.  I don't think I've ever wanted to punch so many people at once (including myself).

But I'm hoping that the sleep deprivation has actually worked in my favor and helped me write a book that will make some agent's heart go pitter patter.  If it has, I might be in trouble.  What if I produce my best work when I'm part-zombie? 

That would kinda suck. 

*I'm still looking for another beta reader, so if anyone is interested, let me know!  The book is YA with a paranormal theme, a little on the off-beat, quirky side (think Heathers meets Dead Like Me) and it's coming in right around 55K words, so it should be a quick read. 

So Close I Can Smell It

...and it smells like rain, coffee, high school, burnt leaves, disembodied souls, Alfred Hitchcock movies, fresh baked croissants and and the engine of an old busted up Camero. 

That would be my book, you see.  As in, it's so close to being finished that I can smell all the little random details.  No, no...please don't run away.  I swear my book is not in any way, shape or form about Brad Pitt.  It will all make sense when you read it.  Which, if the fairies in charge of granting agents are listening, then maybe...just maybe...

Do not ask me how I've managed to write this book.  I really can't tell you.  I look back on my day and it's one big blur, yet, I'm staring at another chapter that I somehow managed to eek out.  I write mostly during nap time, if She Who Shall Never Sleep Like A Normal Human chooses to actually take one.  If she does, it's usually about thirty minutes.  Forty-five if I'm lucky.  Aside from that, I steel a few minutes here and there throughout the day.  Which leads me to my next point....

I wondering if, when I got back to do edits/revisions, it's going to read like it's been written by someone who freebases NoDoz.  I'm hoping not.  Of course, if I'm doing edits/revisions under the same circumstances I wrote the first drafts, then I might not be able to tell.  Which leads me to my next point....

I'll be looking for Beta readers soon.  I've got a couple already set up, but could use maybe one or two more.  If there's anyone up to reading and giving honest feedback/critiques (I'm looking for a little more than just "yeah, it was good" or "holy hell, it sucked rocks") in a somewhat timely manner (preferably not six month after I send it you) then let me know.  I'd certainly be happy to return the favor at some point!

It's about time

I've been thinking a lot lately about time.  And about patience.  Mostly because I spend the majority of my days feeling like I don't have enough of either.  So, I've starting making a mental list of what I do and don't have time and patience for.  It reads as follows:

Things I don't have time and/or patience for:

- dishes that don't wash themselves
- self check out lanes at Meijer (aka the 7th level of hell)
- the local news (stop trying to make me afraid of EVERYTHING.  Please.) 
- reality tv (with the exception of Food Network Star, Project Runway and Top Chef)
- LEGO pieces that like to embed themselves in my feet
- neighbor dogs that bark incessantly the minute I put my toe outside (it's been FIVE years.  I'm not here to rob/maim your owner or pee on your favorite tree.  And, P.S., you look like a mop with teeth.)
- people who suck (this includes people that tailgate, text and drive and people who douse themselves in cologne/perfume and ride elevators with me.  Also includes crazy people who try and suck me into their craziness by handing me a bunch of BS to manipulate my feelings.  I'm immune to this.  Move on, please.  You're wasting your time.)
- Rachel Ray (still the anti-christ)
- jicama (what the effing eff IS that crap?)


Things I DO have time/patience for:

- my kids (always)
- my husband (always)
- my cat, even though she honks up hairballs, like, fifty times a day
- reruns of Frasier on the Hallmark Channel (Hey baby, I hear the blues are callin', tossed salads and scrambled eggs...)
- my friends (especially the ones who make me laugh and help me eat cookies)
- my writing (even though it often makes me want to jam pencils in my eyes)
- caramel sauce
- Ella Fitzgerald
- pants that don't give me muffin top

So, what does your mental time and patience list look like?