Tag Archives: books

Hey, jealousy

It’s no secret that my ultimate dream is to be a novelist, as in making all my money from writing books rather than the 9 to 5. But until that happens, I have to work a regular job to make a living. The lucky part is that my job still revolves around writing. The bad part?

It revolves around writing.

After writing dozens of short articles a week, it takes its toll on the creative writing I want to get done. Two weekends ago I began writing the novel I’ve been planning out for the last month. I got a good 3,000 words in over two days time. And then I set forth the best intentions to write a little each day so I could have a rough draft finished by the time the wedding rolled around. One and a half weeks later, I still have 3,000 words.

I meant to wake up early every day to write a little bit before work. But I’d accidentally on purpose never set my alarm early enough. By the time I come home from work, the distractions mount up and I make excuse after excuse about why I shouldn’t even open my computer and start typing. The truth is, after a full 8 hours of writing about events around Sonoma County, making our entertainment website purty, and publishing other people’s articles on the web, the last thing I want to do is type away on my book – even while simultaneously wishing I could be doing JUST THAT with no distractions around me at all.

That’s why I feel like I have no right to be consumed by the green-eyed monster when I see local authors presenting their newly published novels around the county. But I totally am. I feel like it should be me in that smiling picture, holding a hard bound book with my name on it.

I think the biggest thing it comes down to is fear. I want this so bad I can taste it. But I’m so afraid to create a finished product in case it fails miserably, or I discover I’m really no good. What happens if I finish one of my rough draft novels and present it to various agents, only to be told its utter crap? It’s likely to happen, as it’s happened to many now-published authors. But I’m not sure I can handle it.

And then there’s that – making the feat of publishing a novel seem so far out of my reach. Regular people have written amazing books. I’m a regular person too, and I feel in my heart I’m capable of this too. But I keep placing this goal high up on a pedestal, ranking it up there with winning a Gold in the Olympics or becoming royalty.

It’s just a damn book, Crissi.

At any rate, this is me – a totally jealous, procrastinating, frozen in my own fear unpublished author. I better do something about changing that label quickly before it sticks…..

It's official, summer vacation is here

Summer vacation has started. As if entertaining my kids while I am trying to keep up on work and the household weren’t clue enough, their friends are sure to drive the message home. Starting at 8 am, the doorbell begins to ring with friends wondering if my kids can play. If you don’t mind me sounding like an old fogey, back in my day we were taught that we do not ring anyone’s doorbell before 10 am. And this is a quality I am instilling in my own kids (note: by loudly complaining about being woken up by the dang doorbell).

Just this morning, the neighbor kid came back every 20 minutes to see if the Taz could come out, true to his 8 o’clock fashion. My son insisted that he couldn’t leave the house until 9:30 am, but this kid apparently has a hearing problem. So my son remedied this by posting a sign out our door.

5 minutes later (time now is 8:30 am) our doorbell rang again.

“Doesn’t he know how to read?!?” I asked the Taz.

“I think the sign blew off the door,” he explained. He fastened it again and came back inside. “What can I do now?” he asked me. I was knee deep in work, trying to form at least one more sentence before the doorbell rang again. Our TV is on the fritz, and I was on the only computer. My technology slaved son was left without anything to do, since I was also hindering his use of music for at least some semblance of quiet.

“I don’t know, read,” I instructed him.

“But I’ve been reading a whole bunch lately!” he complained.

“No you haven’t, you haven’t read a book all summer long,” I told him, knowing full well that we hadn’t even completed our first week of summer vacation.

“But I read two of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books,” he argued.

“Just pick something that you haven’t read before.”

“Can I read 30 pages and be done?” he asked me.

“Read until you can go outside,” I said, exasperated.

He pulled out one of the books that had been gathering dust on the bookshelf and got caught up in the world of a vampire bunny that was sucking the life out of all the carrots in the garden. And when the clock struck 9:30 am, we heard the familiar skateboard of his friend coming down the sidewalk, and the Taz was out the door.

I am considering getting my parenting advice from this website so I can learn ways to scare my kids’ friends away – at least until a decent hour in the morning. Answering the door in my bathrobe with unbrushed teeth and hair (pre-coffee) just isn’t cutting it anymore.