Words Written: umm, ZERO
Song on the iPod: Dazed and Confused - Led Zeppelin
No time, no time... but I have carved out a little hole in my day to post at least Something of semi-substance.
The Good
Blogging for Books - I WON!!! Oh my good golly... I won. I'm still slightly in shock. Why? you might ask. Well, because unlike all of my previous entries, I didn't agonize over this one and edit myself to death. As a matter of fact, I had to rush back and look at it again a few days after I entered, to make sure I didn't exceed to word count limit - while thinking, for sure, I'd gone way overboard. Turns out I hadn't. Go me!
As the winnah, I get a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.com (which I can't Wait to use) and then a signed copy of Aviva and Devra's book, Mommy Guilt.
I didn't know much about this book until this month's B4B. Now, of course, I have to think it's some form of fate to have won it because.... Hi, my name is dragonfly and I am coated in mommy guilt. Oh yes, indeedy I am. Every weekend I sit at my desk, writing for hours, while telling my spawnlings to "go away," the mommy guilt plows through the building and then squashes me beneath its Godzilla-like hind parts. And then it bounces until I am sure I'm squashed flat as a pancake with guilt syrup poured over the remains. This book and I might become great friends. Let's hope.
The Bad
I was sorta, kinda trying to aviod this part... but I can only wax poetic about mommy guilt for so long. Interestingly enough, the good seems to go hand-in-hand with the bad. As you can see from the above, I have not written much since Saturday. Partly due to the drugs infiltrating my brain like one of those stinky Raid foggers. But mostly? (and this is really difficult...)
Hi, my name is dragonfly and I Can't Stand my main character.
It's true. Somewhere past the middle, I ceased to like my main character. I Do. Not. Like. Her. If I ran into her on the street, I'd shake her and say, "What the hell is your problem anyhow?" She's rude and immature... and obnoxious. She doesn't know a good thing when it's right in front of her face and won't accept any blame for the situation she's in. If I could figure out a way to set her on fire, I'd do so... but then I wouldn't have a main character.
So. I'm a little stuck with the writing. It's like sitting in the middle of a desert with no compass and wondering which mirage is mostly likely to be the real oasis. Except, instead of heading off in one direction or another, I've simply sat down, pulled my knees up close to my chest and commenced with the rocking. The only thing that'll find me now is a rattlesnake with an attitude. And then it won't matter if I find water or not.
Stupid main character. No clue what's next. I think I might work on a few short stories with some other plot ideas I have while waiting for this character to get her butt in gear. Something has to change, plot-wise, but I don't yet know what that something is. It'll come to me. Hopefully.
And now... The Ohhh Good Fruitbat
My dear oldest spawnling, Shaggy, has put himself in the doghouse. Big time. At this point, I think he and my main character have been hanging out and swapping ideas on the most likely ways to drive me stark-raving insane.
At the beginning of the school year, Shaggy found out his World Geography class was not going to work for him. It wasn't fast-paced enough and the other kids... well, they acted like kids. So I got on the phone with the counselor and begged, borrowed, and stole in order to get him placed in the Pre-AP Geography class.
Yesterday, Mr. Clean received a call from his teacher. He tried to return it but, so far, they're playing a great game of phone tag. However, according to Shaggy... it has to do with the fact that he FAILED to turn in his first project. A project that is DONE. A project that is done WELL. .... A project he left sitting on the floor of his bedroom rather than taking it to school with him. I find this to be completely ridiculous. About as ridiculous as finding him doing homework at 10pm when he told me at 3pm he didn't have any.
So. Last night I informed him of my disappointment and that I expected him to get his homework and complete it, sitting at the kitchen table. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "No. I'll finish it where I want to finish it." I informed him he'd just contributed a $1.00 to the Fine Jar. He shrugged and said, "Whatever. I'm still doing my homewhere where I feel like doing it." $2.00 more added. And yet he continued.
He burned through $19.00 in just over two minutes - everything he was owed on this pay check for chores completed. One would think this would wake him up, yes? Ohhhh, NO. Not my stubborn spawnling. He pushed that big shiny button until he'd also lost all of his power cords. (We've found power cords take up much less space than computers, stereos, game cubes, etc. Plus, that way he has to look at all the things he can't use.)
He finally threw himself into a chair at the table and then turned so he was on the last tee-tiny bit of the chair, with his work scrunched up on the last tee-tiny corner of the table. His face was a mere inches from being pressed against the wall and his tall, gangly limbs were angled about him like a yoga master in a position that would make your butt pucker. I think he was trying to make a point of some sort... though I'm not sure what the point was -- unless it was to make himself so completely uncomfortable, I'd feel bad? Heh. That didn't work. But he did, for the next two hours.
I've always made it very clear that if he wishes to act mature, he'll be treated in a similar fashion. If he wants to act like a three year old who's just figured out the temptation of rebellion, I can go there too. But I really hate having to go there. It's hard to keep a straight face when putting one's teenager in a time-out.
My goals tonight -- Butt in chair, working on a short story. ANY short story. And... get Shaggy to complete his homework at the kitchen table, sans the snarky stubborn attitude and the "I hate you" eyeball death rays.
I love the kid, but I'm thinking Cajun-roasted Spawnling might taste mighty fine for dinner tonight.
Song on the iPod: Dazed and Confused - Led Zeppelin
No time, no time... but I have carved out a little hole in my day to post at least Something of semi-substance.
The Good
Blogging for Books - I WON!!! Oh my good golly... I won. I'm still slightly in shock. Why? you might ask. Well, because unlike all of my previous entries, I didn't agonize over this one and edit myself to death. As a matter of fact, I had to rush back and look at it again a few days after I entered, to make sure I didn't exceed to word count limit - while thinking, for sure, I'd gone way overboard. Turns out I hadn't. Go me!
As the winnah, I get a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.com (which I can't Wait to use) and then a signed copy of Aviva and Devra's book, Mommy Guilt.
I didn't know much about this book until this month's B4B. Now, of course, I have to think it's some form of fate to have won it because.... Hi, my name is dragonfly and I am coated in mommy guilt. Oh yes, indeedy I am. Every weekend I sit at my desk, writing for hours, while telling my spawnlings to "go away," the mommy guilt plows through the building and then squashes me beneath its Godzilla-like hind parts. And then it bounces until I am sure I'm squashed flat as a pancake with guilt syrup poured over the remains. This book and I might become great friends. Let's hope.
The Bad
I was sorta, kinda trying to aviod this part... but I can only wax poetic about mommy guilt for so long. Interestingly enough, the good seems to go hand-in-hand with the bad. As you can see from the above, I have not written much since Saturday. Partly due to the drugs infiltrating my brain like one of those stinky Raid foggers. But mostly? (and this is really difficult...)
Hi, my name is dragonfly and I Can't Stand my main character.
It's true. Somewhere past the middle, I ceased to like my main character. I Do. Not. Like. Her. If I ran into her on the street, I'd shake her and say, "What the hell is your problem anyhow?" She's rude and immature... and obnoxious. She doesn't know a good thing when it's right in front of her face and won't accept any blame for the situation she's in. If I could figure out a way to set her on fire, I'd do so... but then I wouldn't have a main character.
So. I'm a little stuck with the writing. It's like sitting in the middle of a desert with no compass and wondering which mirage is mostly likely to be the real oasis. Except, instead of heading off in one direction or another, I've simply sat down, pulled my knees up close to my chest and commenced with the rocking. The only thing that'll find me now is a rattlesnake with an attitude. And then it won't matter if I find water or not.
Stupid main character. No clue what's next. I think I might work on a few short stories with some other plot ideas I have while waiting for this character to get her butt in gear. Something has to change, plot-wise, but I don't yet know what that something is. It'll come to me. Hopefully.
And now... The Ohhh Good Fruitbat
My dear oldest spawnling, Shaggy, has put himself in the doghouse. Big time. At this point, I think he and my main character have been hanging out and swapping ideas on the most likely ways to drive me stark-raving insane.
At the beginning of the school year, Shaggy found out his World Geography class was not going to work for him. It wasn't fast-paced enough and the other kids... well, they acted like kids. So I got on the phone with the counselor and begged, borrowed, and stole in order to get him placed in the Pre-AP Geography class.
Yesterday, Mr. Clean received a call from his teacher. He tried to return it but, so far, they're playing a great game of phone tag. However, according to Shaggy... it has to do with the fact that he FAILED to turn in his first project. A project that is DONE. A project that is done WELL. .... A project he left sitting on the floor of his bedroom rather than taking it to school with him. I find this to be completely ridiculous. About as ridiculous as finding him doing homework at 10pm when he told me at 3pm he didn't have any.
So. Last night I informed him of my disappointment and that I expected him to get his homework and complete it, sitting at the kitchen table. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "No. I'll finish it where I want to finish it." I informed him he'd just contributed a $1.00 to the Fine Jar. He shrugged and said, "Whatever. I'm still doing my homewhere where I feel like doing it." $2.00 more added. And yet he continued.
He burned through $19.00 in just over two minutes - everything he was owed on this pay check for chores completed. One would think this would wake him up, yes? Ohhhh, NO. Not my stubborn spawnling. He pushed that big shiny button until he'd also lost all of his power cords. (We've found power cords take up much less space than computers, stereos, game cubes, etc. Plus, that way he has to look at all the things he can't use.)
He finally threw himself into a chair at the table and then turned so he was on the last tee-tiny bit of the chair, with his work scrunched up on the last tee-tiny corner of the table. His face was a mere inches from being pressed against the wall and his tall, gangly limbs were angled about him like a yoga master in a position that would make your butt pucker. I think he was trying to make a point of some sort... though I'm not sure what the point was -- unless it was to make himself so completely uncomfortable, I'd feel bad? Heh. That didn't work. But he did, for the next two hours.
I've always made it very clear that if he wishes to act mature, he'll be treated in a similar fashion. If he wants to act like a three year old who's just figured out the temptation of rebellion, I can go there too. But I really hate having to go there. It's hard to keep a straight face when putting one's teenager in a time-out.
My goals tonight -- Butt in chair, working on a short story. ANY short story. And... get Shaggy to complete his homework at the kitchen table, sans the snarky stubborn attitude and the "I hate you" eyeball death rays.
I love the kid, but I'm thinking Cajun-roasted Spawnling might taste mighty fine for dinner tonight.
That is fabulous about B4B - Congratulations.
It must be difficult to feel that way about your main character. How dare she? Hope you and she get some councelling or something soon and sort out your differences.
And Shaggy? He must be very stubborn!