Nothing Says “Forever” Like a Dead Mother-In-Law Solitaire

Original image via Flikr Creative Commons, courtesy of Stephen Durham

Ah, tax season spring! May is crammed with holidays, birthdays and weddings. Hint: Mother’s Day, which is bizarrely close to Cinco de Mayo when even white people drink tequila to celebrate something…um, regarding Mexico. I’ve been running a million miles an hour to prepare for DFWWWCon this weekend and after a week beating up the poor flashbacks, I figured it was time for something fun. And nothing lightens the mood like death :D.

I’ve recently hit 40, which means most of my mail consists of flyers for AARP, discounts on hearing aids and prepaid funerals. Yay. Nothing to make a woman still feel young and sexy like a prepaid FUNERAL.

Anyway…

My family is pretty strange when it comes to the subject of “death.” And not like anyone is, per se, “normal” about death, but my family takes weird clean OFF “The Munster Family Scale” and lands us somewhere into the domain of a cross between Rob Zombie and Monty Python.

“The Zombie-Python Scale”?

Likely, this laissez faire attitude stems from a number of primary causes (beyond the obvious answer “mental illness”). One? Occupational. Mom was a nurse and came from a medical/military family. Dad? All soldiers and farmers.

Yeah, talk about gallows humor.

The second factor? Genetic. I come from Vikings, and science has “proven” there is a genome embedded in our DNA that demands that, upon expiration, our bodies must be placed on a wooden ship in the middle of an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet, then piled in gold, pushed out on the water and set on fire.

Fire, fire, heh heh. Heh heh. Fire.

Heh.

Sadly, I have yet to find a local government official who will grant me a permit to be set afloat in my cousin Randy’s bass boat into Benbrook Lake then shot with leftover fireworks. Just kidding. Not about the permit, but the leftover fireworks part.

We’re TEXANS and there NO SUCH THING as “leftover fireworks.”

Anyway, when I was in the fifth grade, my teacher died, which really sucked, not just because my teacher died, but that it was the WRONG teacher. MY teacher, Mrs. Emmet, was awesome. The Demonic Embodiment of Science Education I had to spend an hour a day with, however, DID NOT die. I think it was because she was feasting slowly on the souls of fifth-grade children…

…and the guinea pigs near her desk that kept dying under strange circumstances (which were never fully investigated).

No, Demon Teacher lived, and is probably still alive today because she likely possesses a painting that ages in her stead. AWESOME Teacher is the one who had the heart attack (and DEMON Teacher looked strangely younger the next day).

But I digress…

The school, being confused and benevolent, brought in a grief counselor. Though, looking back, I think the grief counselor was the same dude wielding a leaf-blower earlier that school year. Grief Counselor told us to go home and discuss the subject of death with our parents then write a paper.

Great idea.

THANKS. Thank you for scarring me even further for LIFE.

So, I go home and ask my mom how she wants us to handle her passing on. Her answer? Taxidermy. She wanted to be made into something useful, like a lamp. She was even gracious enough to allow my brother and I to share her. I could take Creepy-Mom-Lamp for six months and brother could have her the other six months.

Yeah, right on that, Mom.

My Dad? He wanted to be cremated then his ashes strapped to a rocket and spread in space, an idea which everyone thought was sheer lunacy until Gene Roddenberry made it “cool.”

And I imagine the only reason CPS wasn’t called when I turned in my paper was because it WAS the 1980s. This was back in a time when it was permissible to banish your kids who wouldn’t stop running through KMart to go sit in a 110-degree station wagon and fight over a single Slurpee.

Fast-forward to 1999 and my father passes away. Since NASA and I weren’t exactly close and their security people already knew what I looked like, the rocket idea was out of the question. This meant Dad’s ashes went on a high shelf in my closet until I could make another plan. Then one day, years later, I’m all cleaning out my closet.

WTH is that blue box? I don’t remember putting that….*reaches and box falls*

OH HOLY HELL!

Yes, it was my father. In…my…shoes.

You CAN’T MAKE THIS STUFF UP, PEOPLE!

I had to vacuum up my father, and he’s now laid to rest with cremated flip-slops, cat fur, dust bunnies one of my favorite earrings, and I hope that makes him happy after being a smart@$$ about that “being blown up in space” crap.

And it is now 2014 and Mom is still intent on the whole “taxidermy” idea, though I’ve informed her that I’m going to have her stuffed in the squatting position so she can water my front garden. Strangely, that threat hasn’t bothered her enough to deviate from Taxidermy Funeral Course.

I’m happy I’ve broken the Cycle of Weird, though. My husband is Clean-Cut-Boy-Scout-Air-Force-Military and he wants to be buried in a graveyard with a tombstone where we can go talk to him and bring flowers and chocolate offerings like NORMAL PEOPLE.

Me? I want to be cremated and made into a diamond so my son has a ready-made engagement ring for his beloved. How could a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law be ANY closer? THAT is family (and being frugal—Hey, “waste not, want, not”). It’s also a great excuse to gain some extra weight. A skinny dead mother-in-law is good for little more than a tacky nose ring, which might impress some young Waffle House waitress from the trailer park, but not a gal suitable for MY boy.

But a mom-in-law with some MEAT? I might make a nice 2 carat solitaire. Not large enough to catch a Kardashian gold-digger, but big enough to impress a young lady with more than a G.E.D.

So, yes, I want to be made into a diamond (princess cut, of course), but NOT before my consciousness is uploaded into a microchip and implanted in Hubby’s head…so I can keep annoying him for eternity.

You know, *rolls eyes* NORMAL :D.

Okay, yes maybe I’ve gone off the reservation with this post (not the first or last time), but the whole “made into a gemstone” idea seems better than taking up space in a grave…that is later claimed by imminent domain and then the city builds something super-depressing over you like a Baby Gap.

***This is why all Baby Gaps are haunted, btw. It’s “science.” Don’t argue***

Then there is the made into a tree thing, which is a close second choice, but in Texas? With OUR weather? That’s just DELAYED CREMATION.

What are your thoughts? Well, maybe you don’t want to share those, unless you have some cooler ideas. Not “cooler” ideas, though cryogenics holds promise *rubs chin contemplatively*.

I LOVE hearing from you!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of MAY, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly. I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).

I will announce April’s winner after waking from the conference coma early next week.

If you want more help with plot problems, antagonists, structure, beginnings, then I have a FANTASTIC class coming up to help you!

CLASS COMES WITH HANDOUTS AND FREE RECORDING.

Understanding the Antagonist

If you are struggling with plot or have a book that seems to be in the Never-Ending Hole of Chasing Your Tail or maybe you’d like to learn how to plot a series, I am also teaching my ever-popular Understanding the Antagonist Class on May 10th from NOON to 2:00 P.M. (A SATURDAY). This is a fabulous class for understanding all the different types of antagonists and how to use them to maintain and increase story tension.

Remember, a story is only as strong as its problem 😉 . This is a GREAT class for streamlining a story and making it pitch-ready.

Additionally, why pay thousands for an editor or hundreds for a book doctor? This is a VERY affordable way to make sure your entire story is clear and interesting. Also, it will help you learn to plot far faster and cleaner in the future.

Again, use WANA10 for $10 off.

I’ll be running the First Five Pages again at the end of May, so stay tuned.

And, if you need help building a brand, social media platform, please check out my latest best-selling book, Rise of the Machines—Human Authors in a Digital World.

 

Don’t Freeze Your Family—Physics PROVES Why We Writers Need to Lighten UP

Many of us are running around like a one-legged man at an @$$-kicking contest. Writers juggle a lot of things at the same time—day jobs, family, laundry, dishes, finances, family, sickness, loss, and THEN there is the actual WRITING. I’ve come to understand that most of us writers live in two opposing states of being:

The State of I SO ROCK Narcissism and The State of I Don’t Deserve to LIVE, What the Hell Was I THINKING?

We write a few pages and think: “OMG, this is AWESOME.”

Next Day: I suck *hangs head*. Where is that brochure for dental hygienist school?

We revise and revise trying to make our work perfect. Whether it’s a book, parenting, or doing bills many of us hold ourselves up to impossible standards. We just about get the house clean and then…the family comes home. Just finish the dishes and…time to start dinner. AHHHHGGGGGG!

We wonder if it’s illegal to cryogenically freeze our spouse, kids and pets so we could have JUST ONE DAY that everything stayed CLEAN. Can we stop time and bask in loving what we just wrote? Didn’t we just DO laundry? Is that ketchup stain we ignored in the refrigerator trying to open a portal to a demonic realm?

I just CLEANED THESE!

As a recovering perfectionist, I’m here to “scientifically” prove why we all need to lighten the hell up. How am I going to do this? Using tinfoil, swizzle sticks, glitter and the Three Four? Laws of Thermodynamics. And every reader who is a real scientist can just chillax.

This is “science.” Don’t argue.

(All “actual” laws contributed via Wikipedia)

Zeroth Law of Thermodynamics

If two systems are in thermal equilibrium with a third system, they must be in thermal equilibrium with each other. This law helps define the notion of temperature.

Zeroth Law means that temperature/energy will always seek a way to equal out. Two hot bodies (steaming EPIC tamales) placed next to ICE COLD margarita long enough? Margarita will suck heat and cool off tamales….leaving tamales too tired to finish revisions.

Life Application: This is empirical “proof” that yes, we parents were correct. Toddlers do drain energy. This also “proves” that children, as they get bigger, drain even MORE energy. Think how fast a 98 oz. margarita would chill your tamales (being “Tamale Mom” and “Tamale Dad”) and this explains why teenagers drain energy faster…unless the 98 oz margarita  teenager wants to date or wear too much makeup and that will temporarily heat the tamales parents.

The Spawn and his minion Lazr Cat.

Also, the hotter the WIP and the tougher the editor, the more we the writer will want a margarita. Told you! SCIENCE 😀 .

But don’t get too excited, there are three more “laws.”

The First Law of Thermodynamics

Because energy is conserved, the internal energy of a system changes as heat flows in or out of it. Equivalently, machines that violate the first law (perpetual motion machines) are impossible. Heat is the flow of thermal energy from one object to another.

Did you catch that? Okay, so maybe it was the only part of this I understood. Perpetual motion machines are IMPOSSIBLE. Gee, I wish I would have learned this last Thursday. Okay, Thursday of somewhere in 1992. We can’t do it all. Heat is synonymous with energy and as we expend energy, we um—Aw crap, hold on *finds Thesaurus function for another word for “expends”*—oh, there it is. WE LOSE IT. WE LOSE ENERGY and cannot run on Red Bull forever.

Life Application: Apparently, despite what the world wants to tell us, we are incapable of doing everything forever. Yes, there are gizmos, gadgets and apps that “promise” us we can have six-pack abs, a refrigerator that doesn’t make us shriek little a little girl when we reach into the vegetable drawer, and write a perfect book in two weeks. But physics proves they are LYING.

Next time someone complains you are taking a nap, tell them physics has proven you need one.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics

The entropy of any isolated system cannot decrease. Such systems spontaneously evolve towards thermodynamic equilibrium — the state of maximum entropy of the system. Equivalently, machines that violate the second law (perpetual motion machines) are impossible.

In English? Everything is hurdling toward chaos. If you have kids, a closet, a heartbeat, you have a lot of experience with entropy. It’s impossible to isolate any system. I’ve tried! Banning the toddler from walking across my freshly mopped floor only attracts a cat to puke on freshly mopped floor.

This means….we need to just suck it up and expect some imperfection.

Life Application: This also goes for our art/craft. It is called a creative PROCESS. Sure, we can write the “perfect book”….if we are stranded on a desert island and somehow found a way to power up our computers using coconuts (Heck, they did that on Gilligan’s Island). The problem is that this perfect book is likely something we want to sell and make a living off of. Which—DANG IT—requires other people part money and time to buy it and read it and love it.

Problem is, readers can’t be sealed away (legally—I know, I checked) and thus tastes, preferences, ideas, passions are ever-shifting.

My advice? Give up on a perfect book and settle for a finished one. Finished books DO exist, perfect ones do NOT.

Also, again, notice the reiteration that a perpetual motion machine is impossible because it violates this Second Law. So take that nap. You’ll thank me later.

Third Law of Thermodynamics

The entropy of any pure substance in thermodynamic equilibrium approaches zero as the temperature approaches zero. The entropy of a system at absolute zero is typically zero, and in all cases is determined only by the number of different ground states it has.

We can never cool anything to the true point of Absolute Zero (no energy), only get close enough for government work.

Life Application: Do NOT freeze your family. I triple-checked and yes, it IS illegal and your house will still be a mess so it isn’t worth the legal bill.

Freeze some ice cream or a daiquiri instead.

Don’t y’all feel smarter already? I really wish I’d paid more attention in high school.

As we all collectively learn to give ourselves a bit of slack, we can know that science has our backs (unless you are Pluto and then you got screwed). Enjoy your family, your writing, your friends and life and just roll with it. Embrace the imperfections and laugh. Laughter increases energy and warms up the “bodies” around you, staving off entropy for at least a little bit 😉 .

Throw a PARTY!

Speaking of a lot of energetic bodies together in ONE space, I am finishing this post out to invite ALL of you to come and celebrate my 40th birthday with me this Sunday (even though my birthday was a week ago, but entropy tried to kill me so the party was moved).

It is a virtual party in one of our WANA International classrooms, and, if the WANACon after-parties are any indication of how fun this will be?

We might very well break the Internet.

But most of the people I love and care about are on-line. Since kidnapping air-fare for people all over the world is more expensive than the legal bills after freezing one’s family, my attorney has advised me that a virtual birthday party is the best option.

THIS SUNDAY, APRIL 6th from 6:00 P.M. to 8:00 P.M. Central Standard Time (or 7-9 NYC time) we are having an 80s themed party. So bring your sky-high bangs, and favorite A-Ha videos. Also, for the moms who have accidentally worn their bra on the outside of their clothes, remember, Madonna did it, so now you are “fashionable.”

To attend this party, go to the WANA International home page at the time of the party (we will open the room 15 minutes early for those who wish to spike the digital punch). Off to the right, you will see the WORDS Big Blue Button. There is a selector. Choose the room named “Birthday Party” and the password is “Big80s”.

What are your thoughts? Feel better now that physics has “proven” you can relax a little? Do you find yourself swinging between GOD-LIKE CONFIDENCE and wondering why you wanted to write?

What are some of your favorite 80s memories? Songs? Fashions? I always wanted a SWATCH, but we were too poor. Favorite 80s movie? Best love songs of the 80s?

Are you an 80s kid and wonder how the heck you SURVIVED? We drank out of hoses, played on playgrounds made of INDUSTRIAL STEEL, and streetlights were our curfew. How any of you are even around to attend my party is frankly…amazing. And if no one shows, I will assume you likely died in a Slip-and-Slide accident when you were eight.

Will announce winner for March next post.

I love hearing from you!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of APRIL, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly. I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).

For a LONG-TERM plan for a fit, healthy platform, please check out my latest book Rise of the Machines–Human Authors in a Digital World.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Merry Klingon Christmas–Holidays for the ADD Nerdy Introvert

I LOVE giving all year, but especially at Christmas. I so enjoy the thrill of listening to people throughout the year, paying attention to what they want or need or can’t bring themselves to buy (but they really want it). I especially love shopping for the Angel Tree and buying bags of awesome food for the food bank. There are few things more rewarding than standing behind someone in line who’s struggling and embarrassed they have to put things back…then stepping in and saying, “It’s all on me. Merry Christmas.”

Hey, I vividly remember being so broke I had no power and lived on .99 boxes of crackers. I wouldn’t trade those days for the world, because it makes blessing others a million times better.

This is why I want to be a bazillionaire. Not only so I can have a solid gold statue of Darth Vader, but it would just be too cool to sit in a restaurant and pay for someone’s meal and never say a word. Or buy someone’s groceries as a surprise. Or carry around hundred dollar bills and, when I see someone in need, say, “You dropped this” and wink so they know it’s a blessing.

Anyway, first I was kidding about the solid gold Darth Vader statue (plated is fine). I really wanted to talk about Christmas shopping.

I generally have one of two plans.

Plan A: Organized Kristen

This is where I make a list and, throughout the year pick up special items for each family member and put them in labeled boxes. In known Kristen History, this has happened three times. But one time might just be urban legend.

Okay, two times *hangs head*.

Plan B: Running-With-Her-Hair-On-Fire-Kristen

I detest crowds. I am (believe it or not) an introvert and need to be medicated to shop in a store where there are more than twenty other people (aside from staff). For years, I did all my grocery shopping at 4 a.m.

Plan B is where I wait until 6:00 a.m. Christmas Eve to do all my shopping in an hour. Hey, so everyone gets Snuggies and Chia Pets, right? Kidding. In modern times, capitalists have learned to accommodate slackers like me. Often, stores restock and the selection is great, the prices better and NO PEOPLE.

SCORE.

I’m one of those people that does better shopping last minute, and not only because I’m lazy. I am terrible at waiting. If I get someone a super cool gift too early? They’re likely to get it at Halloween (and then I just end up shopping on Christmas Eve morning anyway). But one year, I did have the World’s Most Epic Present and I waited.

This was back when my dad was alive and I inherited this gene of “not being able to wait until Christmas morning to give the universe’s COOLEST gift” from him. For weeks we giggled, “I got you the BEST GIFT EVER. You are NEVER going to guess!!! Muah ha ha ha ha!”

The waiting was sheer torture for both my dad and for me. Then, finally….Christmas morning arrived. We squeeeeeeeeeed as we handed each other the PERFECT GIFT….

….and realized we’d both bought each other the SAME thing. A language series (tapes, dictionary, etc.) on How to Speak Klingon.

Hey, I suppose the geek doesn’t fall far from the tree.

So, QISmaS botIvjaj ‘ej DIS chu’ botIvjaj!!!

(That’s “Merry Christmas” in Klingon. I’m going to put this on ALL my cards next year provided I am organized to send out cards next year. Might start now…)

So Merry Christmas to all of you. Thank you for your generosity and love all year long on my blog. You have no idea how much all of you mean to me. I love hearing your thoughts, ideas, opinions and just seeing you. I’ve had a really tough two years (orders for Hubby to deploy to Afghanistan, The Spawn’s accident and $20,000 of maxo-facial surgery, six deaths and three major surgeries, and on and on and…on).  I don’t think I would have made it without you guys. I couldn’t have remained positive without all the love you guys so freely give because you are made of AWESOME.

What about you? Do you have any cool holiday traditions that don’t involve bail money? Suggestions? Hey, I know when I am out of my depth and am humble enough to consult the World’s Most Brilliant Hive Mind (y’all, DUH). Any funny Christmas stories? Are you a slacker or are you organized? Have you ever had the situation of buying the same present for another person? What’s the best/worst gift you’ve ever gotten? What’s the best gift you’ve ever GIVEN? It’s okay to brag :D.

I love hearing from you!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of December, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly. I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less). Comments for guests get extra POINTS!

I hope you guys will check out my latest book Rise of the Machines–Human Authors in a Digital World and get prepared for 2014!!!!

Help Me, I’m Drowning

Flikr Creative Commons via Aimanness Photography

Many writers feel overwhelmed. We’re frequently trying to balance a day job, family, special occasions, emergencies, blogging, social media, laundry and even BATHING. It seems like just about the time we get a good juggling rhythm, someone tosses another bowling pin in our hand (sick kid, car breaking down, computer crashing).

I’d love to say that I’m perfect at these tips I’m about to offer, but I’m a lousy liar. But, I will say that though I’m not where I’d like to be, I’m far from where I used to be (again, thank you Joyce Meyer).

Sometimes We JUST Need to Outsource

I do a fairly good job of at least keeping the house looking like it was hit by a Category ONE Hurricane and not a KATRINA. But, do I have time to scrub all the floors properly and dust the blinds and make the shower sparkle like new? To wipe away ALL the macaroni and cheese The Spawn has painted on various surfaces? To vacuum every crevice filled with Cheerios and cat fur?

*clutches sides laughing*

My solution? Once a month a team of housekeepers come to rescue me. I love Maid Day. It’s like Christmas morning for the working mother. The house smells of Lavender Pine-Sol and everything glows…for at least a half an hour. Granted, I had to give up Bikram yoga (and settle for working out at the regular gym). Also don’t get to eat out as much, but that $90 a month is priceless for my sanity. I tend to be a person that needs things to be tidy or I can’t focus.

Dust bunnies will start a rock band if you leave them together too long.

Redefine What Clean Means

In the comments on my last post, a lot of you fretted about the unmade beds and the dishes and the laundry. I do too. But I am getting better. There was a time I would not have been able to work until I made my house shine like Maid Day. Now? If I can see the floors and flat surfaces?

We’re good.

The inside of my house seriously needs to be painted. I got through half the rooms then developed such bad tendonitis, I couldn’t finish. So the livingroom has patched holes from where the previous owners hung their pictures. We also have a few Crayon “murals” from The Spawn’s early years.

We won’t even begin to discuss the condition of our carpet (Hint: a toddler, two cats and a dog).

But there was a time this would have bothered me to the point of needing medication. I would’ve sold a kidney to hire painters and get new flooring. Now?

Just look away. Learn to un-see.

The Spawn claims he “Zombie-Proofed” his room.

This past week has been super stressful. Mom in hospital, niece graduation, final revisions on new book, but oddly, what stressed me out the most? The belt on the vacuum broke. Instead of hoofing it across town to the closest vacuum supply, I thought, “Let’s order one off-line. Surely it will get here in a day or so because the place is in Dallas (40 minutes from us).”

It took a WEEK. Apparently the vacuum supply never expected someone to order a belt and BAGS for their vacuum and had to have them shipped from North Carolina.

Seriously.

It’s been over a WEEK since our floors have been vacuumed. O…M…G. That is a week of crumbs, cereal, cat fur, and pieces of plastic from toys Pippa has half-eaten.

Pippa found the clean baby blankets.

…and the load of clean towels fresh out of the dryer.

Again, just look away. Get back to work.

Does the Five Second Rule apply to dogs sleeping in your clean laundry?

To make it in this game, we have to up our standards in some places (our craft) and lower them in others (laundry can wait, just hide it in the bathtub behind the shower curtain :D). We can’t live at 1000% in all areas and not completely drown. We need lifelines.

Delegate

When Mom was in the hospital, they kept screwing up her food. She has all the same food allergies as I do (no gluten, dairy, soy, etc.). Harris seriously has the most incompetent kitchen staff, EVER. They put bread on every meal they brought me when I was in the maternity ward. Did the same thing to Mom this past week.

Actual statement from my stay at Harris: But your burger doesn’t have wheat. That’s white bread. *head desk*

But I digress…

There was a time I would have dropped everything, run to Whole Foods and then driven the 40 minutes to Fort Worth to bring her food. This time? Called Palio’s and sent her a GF, dairy-free pizza…twice.

And she loved it.

If you have an intense period of revisions, ask fellow writers for guest posts. Post YouTube videos as your blog. Let your teenage kids find cool stuff for you. Allow your family to be part of your success. Let people help. We like to help.

I know I am still working on this delegating-asking-for-help-thing. I’m the first person to offer a hand, but seriously need to work on asking for help when I’m swamped. But I am improving :D.

All of this is a process. Some days we will rock it and others we will just….

Yeah.

Focus On What Endures

In the end, just remember. The laundry will never be finished. The dishes will never stay clean. Walls will need repainting and carpet will have to be vacuumed weekly…or hourly if you have a toddler. But relationships? Memories with our family and kids? Love? Finished books? Blogs that new people can discover or that can be made into books? Healthy friendships? Our art? Those things endure, thus need to be our priority.

What about you? Do you completely forget to delegate? Does asking for help just not even enter your mind until you’re one inch from a nervous breakdown? Are you good at delegation? Or are you a hopeless control freak (*guilty face*)? Have you learned to be better at asking for help or delegating? Any tips? Advice?

I love hearing from you!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of June, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. If you leave a comment, and link back to my blog, and mention my book We Are Not Alone in your blog…you get your name in the hat THREE times. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly.

I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).

And also, winners have a limited time to claim the prize, because what’s happening is there are actually quite a few people who never claim the critique, so I never know if the spam folder ate it or to look for it and then people miss out. I will also give my corporate e-mail to insure we connect and I will only have a week to return the 20 page edit.

At the end of June I will pick a winner for the monthly prize. Good luck!

My Cats are TOTALLY Fired

Johnny in the DOG BED.

I have two cats—Johnny and Roo-Bee. Johnny is a year and a half old and thinks he’s a dog. Roo-Bee is eleven and an avid hunter…of baby socks and hair bands. Both of them are totally fired.

The story is this. Contractors are building new houses in what was once a field right behind us, so the “now-homeless” field mice apparently started a rock band and it didn’t work out…so they decided they’d move in with us. Pippa (the dog) told them my cooking is awesome and The Spawn throws cereal like fairy dust, coating the house.

Mouse HEAVEN.

So yesterday, Hubby goes to move a blanket and a tiny field mouse comes running out. What do my cats do? They stand and WATCH. I squeal and shout instructions (because I don’t want rabies) and also, someone needs to be Management *rolls eyes*. Meanwhile Hubby chases this inch-long mouse around the living room with a plastic cup.

My two cats fuzzy freeloaders?

Wow. You should totally call pest control.

Hey, which cabinet has the snacks? Pippa showed me where you had the catnip and now I’ve got the munchies…

Roo-Bee claims she hunts…useful things. Her defense? “What the hell? Are you now Lady Gaga? How are you going to style your hair with a MOUSE? I keep your bangs out of your face and your kid’s feet WARM.”

Admittedly, she has a point.

Johnny? He claims he was helping me as Assistant Manager and Shawn is the one who needs to try harder. In Johnny’s words, “Shawn just doesn’t live up to his potential.”

I have to confess, this might be added to Shawn’s quarterly review.

All this aside, Roo-Bee apparently needs cat training:

MICE.

Mouse image via Stephen Barnett Flikr Creative Commons.

NOT MICE.

Hair Band image via Stephen Depolo Flikr Creative Commons.

The mouse got away, and now is probably living in our couch while Coco Puffs rain down between the cushions like Mouse Manna. Johnny and Roo-Bee claim they didn’t receive a proper training manual when abducted from the fields as kittens and thrust into a “world with no appropriate role models and we should be grateful they aren’t in a gang or pregnant.”

They also reminded us the Kitty Feeder was running low and the Cat Fountain needed to be topped off. Pippa wants to know if she can have a pet mouse.

NO!

Pippa claims she is “helping” with laundry, but I KNOW she is hiding her mouse friends.

Shouldn’t you be doing the dishes? You ARE a woman, right? Clean something…like my litter box.

Anyway, I hope we find the mouse and can scoop him outside, cuz he was super cute and this makes murdering him a little harder. My husband and I are total suckers. At the ranch we had glue traps because the mice were making a MESS of the house.

My husband spent half the summer shampooing field mice out of glue traps and setting them free.

We could get ANOTHER cat. Like a bad@$$ cat from the streets, used to having to KILL for his food…but, admittedly, my pets are a seriously bad influence,and then we’d just have another freeloader watching us as we scramble around the living room trying to catch a mouse.

What about you? Do you have freeloaders, too? Or maybe a dog who thinks he’s a cat or cat who thinks she’s a dog? Or do your pets get too crazy killing stuff and delivering it on your pillow? Dead mice in your shoes?

I LOVE hearing from you guys!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of April, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. If you leave a comment, and link back to my blog, and mention my book We Are Not Alone in your blog…you get your name in the hat THREE times. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly.

I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).

And also, winners have a limited time to claim the prize, because what’s happening is there are actually quite a few people who never claim the critique, so I never know if the spam folder ate it or to look for it and then people miss out. I will also give my corporate e-mail to insure we connect and I will only have a week to return the 20 page edit.

At the end of April I will pick a winner for the monthly prize. Good luck!

The Cone of Shame–Not Just for Pets Anymore

Pippa Dog is plotting our deaths…

The past week and a half has been…interesting. I was completely off last week, so messed up that I woke up Saturday morning, believing it was Friday. The super funny lady Leanne Shirtliffe, who was supposed to be my FRIDAY guest post, was probably all WTH? when I wrote about wanting a DeLorean so I could go back in time and kick my own @$$ for being stupid instead of posting her seriously funny guest piece and talking about her on-line humor-writing class (still open, btw).

Hmmm, a bit prophetic. And, Leanne’s post? Humor is Everywhere? Doubly prophetic?

So Friday Saturday, I stagger out of bed, exhausted (we’d been passing around a toddler stomach bug for the previous week) and I drink three cups of coffee just to be able to SEE straight.

Being the AWESOME, sweet, loving, and humble wife I am, I let my husband sleep in and kept The Spawn quiet while I posted my Friday Apparently SATURDAY Funny guest blog. I then made The Spawn’s lunch and took him to school.

I get to the school, but the parking lot’s empty. WTH? No one was there but the landscaper who probably wanted to know why this weird woman was yelling at the locked door. I totally thought the school had just invented some new holiday to keep my kid home and under my feet.

Was it Spring Goddess Day? Freyja Day? Gerald Ford Day? The Teachers are Burned Out and Suicidal So They Need a Freaking Day OFF Before They Duct Tape Your Kid to a Wall Day?

Irritated, I drove home. Hubby staggers out of bed and asked where I went. I fume, indignant that my husband didn’t tell me there was a school holiday and that I took The Spawn to school and they really send home too much paperwork because I didn’t SEE there was a holiday and why the heck do they need so many holidays?

Then Hubby tells me it is Saturday.

NO! I say. It is TOTALLY FRIDAY. I’ll prove it. So I rush to my laptop to pull up my iCal because I trust Apple WAY more than my husband…and I blink. My mind can’t process this.

OH DEAR GOD IT IS SATURDAY!!!! I TOOK MY KID TO SCHOOL ON SATURDAY AND I POSTED A BLOG AND MY FOLLOWERS ARE GOING TO BE ALL…WTH? NOW SHE’S BLOGGING SATURDAY, TOO?????

Did my husband hug me? Console me? Tell me that I was wonderful, generous and kind for letting him sleep?

NO.

Howling with laughter, he points and says, “You even made his lunch and EVERYTHING!!!!!”

The sudden urge to stab Hubby with a lemon zester was a big clue I needed more sleep. I did some writing then took a super-long nap that resembled a coma more than a nap. Sunday? Rest. Played video games. Ate dinner at my mom’s, so didn’t even cook.

I was SET for the new week.

Monday morning, I take Pippa to be spayed and get her shots. I pick her up. I have a very efficient day. Yesterday? Busy multi-tasking cleaning the kitchen while packing The Spawn’s lunch and telling him 1000 times I will NOT play the NASCAR race AGAIN.

****My son needs a 12 step program for car racing. He DOES NOT get that from my side.

In the midst of all this? I make sure to put Pippa’s pain medication away before it gets lost.

Two hours later? Guess what I can’t find? I tear the house apart. Certain I must have thrown it away, I go through the seriously disgusting trash (had cleaned out the fridge *shivers*). Finally, I call the vet and beg them to believe that I am not mainlining my dog’s medication and please, please, please can we buy more?

Hubby, being awesome, goes and gets her medicine. He comes home with The Spawn…and guess what he finds sitting at my computer?

*head desk*

I feel like I just want to hit CNTRL + ALT +DELETE and reboot. So, of course, my husband spends all yesterday mocking my pain…AGAIN.

This morning? Guess what we wake up to? NO INTERNET. Hubby forgot to pay the AT&T bill, even though his humble, sweet, cute, adorable, helpful, and humble wife brought him the bill with the debit card A WEEK AGO and sweetly reminded him.

So this morning, we’ve been discussing The Parable of the King Who Forgot to Pay the Internet Bill and All the Kingdom was Super Sad. There was great gnashing of teeth and the townspeople, justifiably distraught because there was no Facebook access and their blogs would be posted LATE, wanted to stone the King for being so absent-minded…

…until his kind, loving, and humble wife begged they give him mercy and placated them with chocolate.

Cuz she’s awesome…and humble :D.

And the moral of the story was the king needed to listen to his wife…and tell her she was pretty…and NOT make fun of her for taking their toddler to Kingdom Nursery School on Saturday and then later losing the Royal Dog’s medicine…and then tell her she’s pretty.

Anyway, yeah….

All I have to say is that Pippa isn’t the only one in need of a Cone of Shame this past week. Have you ever had days like that? Where you just want to go back to bed and try again? Have you ever done something really dumb, like take your pet’s medication? Put your keys in the freezer? Lose your car?

I LOVE hearing from you guys!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of April, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. If you leave a comment, and link back to my blog, and mention my book We Are Not Alone in your blog…you get your name in the hat THREE times. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly.

I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).

And also, winners have a limited time to claim the prize, because what’s happening is there are actually quite a few people who never claim the critique, so I never know if the spam folder ate it or to look for it and then people miss out. I will also give my corporate e-mail to insure we connect and I will only have a week to return the 20 page edit.

At the end of April I will pick a winner for the monthly prize. Good luck!

Humor is Everywhere–The Art of Being Funny

Looks legit.

One of my absolute favorite people in the world is humor author and mommy-blogger Leanne Shirtliffe. I know if I’m having a rough day, that I just need to stop by Leanne’s blog or Facebook page, because she’ll have me smiling in minutes. One of the advantages of starting my company, WANA International, is I was able to abduct recruit my favorite people to teach.

Today, Leanne’s, going to give us some tips about how to make the world our muse—> then make it LOL.

Take it away, Leanne!

******

Humor is everywhere, from Tom Cruise’s teeth to your local pet store. You just have to look for it.

How do you find humor?

Watch what children do:

Genetic modification for the tween set.

I grabbed a notebook out of my bedside table. On the next available page was this note from my daughter.

Look at sign combinations:

Gives new meaning to “strip mall.”

Gives new meaning to the saying “to hell and back”

Evidently my garage is a “community”

Does watching mommy and daddy skull beers count as “live entertainment”?

Visit your local book store, especially the bargain books section. Look for weird combos of books.

So you’ve found humor. Now what?

• What about having a character in your manuscript come across one of these signs or combinations of books? Even non-humorous characters can see or find humor.
• Creating characters with unique characteristics is one way to be original; observing quirky details is yet another way to develop a distinctive voice.

Interested in finding out many more humor techniques?

Attend my WANA webinar on Wednesday, April 24 from 8:30-10:00 PM EST, “How To Be Funny (Er): 10 Techniques for Writers of Fiction and Nonfiction.”

All participants will be entered to win a copy of my soon-to-be-released humor book, Don’t Lick the Minivan: And Other Things I Never Thought I’d Say to my Kids.

Click here for more details on the webinar and/or to register.

Where’s your favorite place to “find” humor? What makes you laugh?
How do you use humor in your writing?

~~

About Leanne Shirtliffe

Leanne Shirtliffe is a humor writer whose book, Don’t Lick the Minivan: And Other Things I Never Thought I’d Say to my Kids, has received positive endorsements Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess), Jill Smokler (Scary Mommy), Kirkus Review, and others. She writes for the Huffington Post, NickMom.com, and IronicMom.com. When she’s not stopping her eight-year-old twins from licking frozen flagpoles, Leanne teaches English to teenagers who are slightly less hormonal than she is.

Thanks Leanne! Please show her some love for making your Fridays more fun :D.

I LOVE hearing from you guys!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of April, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. If you leave a comment, and link back to my blog, and mention my book We Are Not Alone in your blog…you get your name in the hat THREE times. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly.

I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).

And also, winners have a limited time to claim the prize, because what’s happening is there are actually quite a few people who never claim the critique, so I never know if the spam folder ate it or to look for it and then people miss out. I will also give my corporate e-mail to insure we connect and I will only have a week to return the 20 page edit.

At the end of April I will pick a winner for the monthly prize. Good luck!

The Parental Paradox & Caterpillar Conundrum—How I Grew Up to Be THAT Mom

Yes, The Spawn is really BAT-THOR.

When we’re young, we all have this fantastical vision of what we’ll be like when we grow up, including what kind of parent we’ll one day be. I know my ideals were largely affected by my own growing up years. My parents (like me and my husband) were small business owners. After the oil crash, they started a custom furniture business. Dad was always distracted and running to Dallas for tools. I’m unsure to this day whether or not my mother owned any clothes that didn’t have paint splatters or smell of furniture finish.

The Parental Pariah Paradigm

I remember being mortified when my mom would come get me at school. She was always in work clothes and never looked like the perfectly coiffed stay-at-home moms who came for my friends.

Dad picked me up in a work truck, not a Volvo. My brother and I would ride in the back, down the highway, amusing ourselves among the lumber and tools by tossing soda cans out the back and watching them bounce down the freeway (until we got a sound swatting on the side of I-20).

The School Project Paradox

School projects were a particular nightmare. My fifth grade teacher was a sadist who hated me no matter how hard I tried to please her.

Mt. St. Mortification

One time we had to make a volcano that erupted using baking soda. My parents were not only busy running a business, but they believed I needed to do my own projects, that it was good for my “character”…(code for “We have NO time for this, kid. You’re on your own!).

I recall my cute little lump of dirt I’d concocted from backyard mud and painted, how proud of it I was…until I saw the other kids’ projects.

One boy had this massive volcano that had to be carried in by adults. It was intricately painted, complete with little ferns and trees and a small village at the base of the mountain to be destroyed upon eruption.

I wanted to die.

I was up against THIS kid.

Image via About.Com Chemistry’s Science Fair Volcano. If only my parents had the Internet.

The Insect Disintegration

Another project involved collecting insects local to the area, anesthetizing them with cotton balls of something that’s probably now illegal, then gluing them on a display of nails.

My little brother and I scoured for days searching for bugs, and, after days of work, all we had to show was a Folger’s can full of dead doodlebugs, some fire ants and a cricket or two…all of which had pretty much disintegrated to dust by the time my project was due.

My parents weren’t about to let a 6 and 10 year old loose with Superglue and NAILS. I settled for a shoebox and Scotch tape.

The other kids? They had these beautiful wooden displays of all kinds of colorful beetles and butterflies, perfectly preserved and each positioned beautifully on a display board. I was 26 years old before I realized the other kids’ parents had likely just ordered the bug displays from the local university’s Entomology Department.

The Entomological/Volcanic Sequester

I remember feeling like such a failure, and Mrs. E didn’t help. She’d sneer down her nose at me like I hadn’t tried. The others all got A+++++ and I counted myself lucky to pass. The other kids’ projects were displayed in the cafeteria because they were “true representatives of a fifth-grader’s ingenuity and talent.”

All I had to offer was a pile of painted mud and a shoebox of crispy bugs. My projects were left in the “Hall of Shame” (back in the classroom).

The Temporal Introspection

So here it is, almost thirty years later. My husband and I work super long days with our fledgling business, as I mentioned in last week’s post about the Author CEO.

Granted, what I failed to mention in that post is my “work” days are so long not because I am some Author Gordon Gekko, rather because I’m interrupted with 47 sword fights a day (at least Spawn lets me wear the Captain America mask), 22 tickle fights, and more than a few races through the house as I sing the “Baby Shark” song and hunt The Spawn down while he squeals and tries to hide.

Hubby and I are like Sheldon (Hubby) and a Sheldon-Howard-Penny (Me) from Big Bang Theory had a child.

The Entrepreneurial Enigma

“Work” includes stopping to help The Spawn through a level of Star Wars Angry Birds and refilling his sippy-cup every 20 minutes. It’s hard, and tiring. It makes long “work” days, but we love it. We love being a entrepreneurs so we can be home with The Spawn. We love that we made the decision to sacrifice so Daddy could be home. My husband takes him to the park so they can fight with light sabers and I can write.

Spawn uses “The Force” to help me with revisions.

Then Yesterday…

The Caterpillar Conundrum

The nursery school he attends a few hours a day has sent home a request that we provide a butterfly or caterpillar costume. While dressing my son as a butterfly holds great promise, namely embarrassing pictures that can help ensure he won’t date until after he’s thirty, I think we’re going to try caterpillar. Yet, like my parents, we have little money and time and far less creativity.

The Mom Mimesis

I never thought I would be THAT mom, tho one who never wears makeup and lives in work clothes. I thought I’d be more Martha Stewart-ish. I’d drive a Saab and have perfect hair and wear clothes from Talbots…not the same yoga pants I wore through ten months of pregnancy and my favorite Green Lantern shirt.

My “work” clothes.

The Mom-petition Matrix

At Valentines, the other moms had cute hand-decorated bags full of thoughtful items for my son’s class like pencils, stickers and Cookie Monster socks. Spawn? He had a bag of pre-made Valentines.

Easter? The other kids brought intricate little baskets and eggs. My son? A bag of plastic eggs already sealed and stuffed with candy.

The “School Play” Parsimony

We’ve been though this. I feel the pressure. I’ve seen the handmade costumes, but I just don’t have it. I can’t battle Thor and be hit with lightning 572 times a day while writing and picking cereal off every surface of my home…AND make a costume. I also can’t afford a fancy caterpillar costume off-line.

The Bat-Thor-WARS Variable

And there is the added challenge that Spawn refuses to wear anything that doesn’t have Thor, Batman or Star Wars on it. He will scream and strip, (which my husband and I count as parental “winning”, but we’re warped).

We’ve been though this with the 2011 Christmas play, the 2012 Spring Play and the 2012 Christmas play. Not only am I THAT mom, but I apparently I’m the mother of THAT kid.

***Note: The teachers love him and think he’s a joy. I am the only one feeling the pressure.

And Spawn TOTALLY rocks because he loves Star Wars, books and his mom and dad. His first words were “I love you” “please” and “thank you,” and that is proof we’ve done a lot of things right.

The Temporal Circumlocution

All things come full circle. It’s funny how life shows you things, how we see our parents differently when we’re suddenly in their shoes. I’m now proud of my lump of mud and my dried doodlebugs because I did those projects myself (okay, with help from my 6 year old brother).

One day, I hope The Spawn forgives me for the caterpillar costume, because at this point it looks like he might get safety-pinned in a bed-sheet. Apparently the State of Texas frowns on parents using duct tape on their kids, so I’m all out of ideas.

There is NO way he will keep anything but a Thor helmet on his head. Headband with antennae? *clutches sides laughing*

Any suggestions would be helpful, but my main concern is unless he is glued into this costume or is somehow made into a rare breed of caterpillar with R2-D2 in its markings, he’ll strip and run.

The Awesome Algorithm

But, you know what? I’d rather my son be an AWESOME nerd than some Stepford Craft Kid to help my ego. Yeah, his mom isn’t Martha Stewart, she’s a Social Media Jedi ;).

And yes *twitches* we are a little different :P.

What are your thoughts? Were you THAT kid? The one with the embarrassing costume or school project? Did you eventually understand your parents better? Do you think school projects are evil? What was your worst school play experience? Worst school project? Or did you have an awesome crafty mom? What was it like?

I love hearing from you!

To prove it and show my love, for the month of April, everyone who leaves a comment I will put your name in a hat. If you comment and link back to my blog on your blog, you get your name in the hat twice. If you leave a comment, and link back to my blog, and mention my book We Are Not Alone in your blog…you get your name in the hat THREE times. What do you win? The unvarnished truth from yours truly.

I will pick a winner once a month and it will be a critique of the first 20 pages of your novel, or your query letter, or your synopsis (5 pages or less).

And also, winners have a limited time to claim the prize, because what’s happening is there are actually quite a few people who never claim the critique, so I never know if the spam folder ate it or to look for it and then people miss out. I will also give my corporate e-mail to insure we connect and I will only have a week to return the 20 page edit.

At the end of April I will pick a winner for the monthly prize. Good luck!