My Lottery

There was a quote on Nathan Bransford's blog last week that I found very fitting for this phase of my life.

Here's an analogy sure to brighten the mood of the unpublished: writing a
book is kind of like spending a year creating a lottery ticket. Sunny days,
people! Sunny days!

I definitely identify with that statement. I've written five other books (none of which you'd ever want to read) and each time I was nearing the finish line I had momentary glimpses of being published. However, the hope was fleeting as I realized that writing a *good* book is not an instantaneous thing. It takes work, and practice, and a lot of disappointment. Once you've spent said amount of time writing it (here's where Nathan is a bit ambitious, since with a full-time job and any kind of life, it's nearly impossible to finish a book in a year), you can pretty easily determine if it's worthy of publishing or not. Certainly an agent can see that immediately. And if the writing is just not there yet, no amount of hoping is going to get you published. Your only course of action is to pick up your pride and start a new book. I managed that last time with ease. I was excited and determined when I began my latest book, mere weeks after I finished the last. This time I'm a little hesitant. I just poured my heart and soul into this book. The thought of starting over again sounds akin to cutting my heart out with an exacto knife.

Here's to hoping my number's up.

Word of the Day: Procellous

pro·cel·lous
–adjective
stormy, as the sea.

It's been extremely stormy the past few weeks here. Today at 2pm it turned so dark outside that the street lamps turned on. Thunderstorms are cool until you have to walk home in a dress and high heels.

Today I swallowed my pride and sent out some query letters to perspective agents. I've been reading and rereading my query letter and first chapter for a few weeks now, hoping for divine intervention that would assure me they don't suck. It never came. So I'm just gritting my teeth and sending them. What's the worst that can happen? I get rejected? That's part of the game. Besides, I've already swallowed it.

The truth about writing

I was reading Jason Alexander's blog today (you can find a link to Writer's Life in the links on the side), which is a guilty pleasure I enjoy every once in awhile. Jason's sense of humor is irreplaceable. But amidst the wisecracks, he paused for a moment to give his theory on writing, which I love. This gives me motivation and drive to continue in what I do, even though the industry is cutthroat and oftentimes just plain evil -- in terms of crushing hopes one's had since early childhood (at least in my case). I started writing when I was like 8 years old. In grade school, I won my first writing contest, earning myself a whole bag of Starburst, and I knew from that moment that I wanted to be a writer. Ever since, everything I've done has been with the goal of one day being published. Sure, it's been a hard road. It's not easy turning your thoughts into a comprehensible 400-page novel. But it's worth ever ounce of sweat I put into it. I would never give up my writing for anything. And I know that no matter how long it takes, I will be published one day. I have no dillusions about my work. I'm far from being one of those American Idol contestants who can't hold a note and yet think they are the next Madonna. But when you have a passion for something, if you devote a lot of hard work and energy to it, you have no where to go but up. Here's what Jason says about it:

My theory goes like this: no matter who you are and where you are from and
what your parents do for a living, if you can write and you know you can and you
work at it every day and you know deep below the surface in that place where
only the truth exists that you're not just being daft and irrational, you will
get discovered. This may take weeks or it may take years or it may take decades,
but my feeling is that good, solid writing rises to the top. Editors can
spot it. Agents can spot it. Other writers can spot it. And this is the
beauty of the writing world. You always have to fall back on your own
talent.

FRAGGLE ROCK!

I was so excited when I opened up my web browser just now and saw that Fraggle Rock is going to be made into a movie soon. I don't remember being allowed to watch much TV as a kid, but Fraggle Rock was one that the entire family gathered anxiously to watch on HBO on Sunday night. It was my absolute favorite show. And now, more than 20 years later, they are bringing it back! I can not be more excited. First NKOTB, now Fraggles. What more could a person ask for?

http://buzzsugar.com/1625856

Query Letter Land

It's too bad that magic isn't real, because I could use some about now. Writing a query letter is one of the most daunting tasks I've taken on since sewing an entire crib set for my sister's first baby. My main problem is not that I can't boil down 80,000 words into one paragraph. It's more that I can't decide which of the 90 one paragraph descriptions is the best representation of my novel.

Here are some of the most useful links I found while putting off the real work:

Tricks of the Trade, Writing the Dreaded Synopsis by Lisa Gardner (one of my favs!)
How to Write a Synopsis by Andrew Jameson (this one requires a password from absolutewrite.com

Word of the Day: NKOTB

I mean, come on, who does not love the New Kids on the Block REUNION??

I still have a poster of NKOTB hanging, albeit on the inside, of my closet door in my old room at my parent's house. I either couldn't bring myself to take it down, or my friends thought it was funny to keep putting it back up. I can't quite remember now... I was shocked by the fact that it's now been 20 years since they released their first single! How is it even possible that I was only ten years old when Hanging' Tough came out? How old did that make them? Joey, who I was totally in love with, must have been about 12 at the time.

Anyway, I'm willing to give them another chance. As long as they don't sound like a boy band anymore and dance around on stage in that hokey boy band choreographed way, they could probably sell a lot more albums, just on the nostalgia alone.

Word of the Day:

mazuma
slang for "money," 1901, from Yiddish, from Mishnaic Hebrew mezumman "designated, fixed, appointed," used in Medieval Heb. in sense of "cash" (cf. slang the needful "money"), from Akkad. simanu "appointed time."
It seems like everyone is making cool million off their own lives these days by writing books about, well, about being them. If only anyone wanted to read about being me.

Today the Clinton's released their tax returns to the public, showing a combined income of $109 M between 2000 and 2007. Here's my favorite line of the Washington Post story:

The returns reveal how the Clintons turned global fame into a successful commercial brand...

Did we really need to know about the life of the Clinton's during the White House years enough to pay them millions of dollars in royalties? We already know enough, I think. But America can't seem to get enough of celebrity life. Enough so that we start labeling the Clinton's as a commercial brand, like Air Jordan's or Kleenex.

I much prefer reading books of real substance, like one I just finished, by former Navy SEAL, Marcus Luttrell, who wrote an extremely moving account of his time being hunted by Taliban in the Hindu Kush in Afghanistan, while his buddies were dying with valor all around him. Why aren't we paying real people big money to read amazing accounts of thier lives? Instead we're shelling out $25 dollars for the hardback version of Hillary Clinton's years in the White House.

Lovely

Novelists Strike Fails To Affect Nation Whatsoever

Love this article.

While the strike has been joined by an estimated 250,000 novelists—225,000 of
whom have reportedly stopped in the middle of their first novel—it has done no
damage to any measurable sector of the economy...the day-to-day lives of average
Americans, or anything else anyone can think of as of press time.

Word of the Day: Mole

EW.com reports, 'The Mole' Returning to ABC.

How excited am I? When The Mole was on years ago, I watched every episode, was probably their biggest fan, and hoped for a day when I would be picked as a contestant. Why I love the show so much: it's like a 12-part mystery that one must watch diligently in order to crack. If you're lucky, by the last episode you have a slight chance in hell of actually picking the correct Mole. It's endlessly fascinating how creative and sneaky they are in hiding themselves. And I've often wondered if I would make a good Mole. As a writer of mystery/suspense fiction, I think I'd have a darn good chance of fooling millions and walking away with as much cash in the end. But what if I wasn't a good Mole and ended up spoiling the whole thing? I'd have to rethink my career choice, because if I wasn't able to pull off a T.V. show, there'd be no hope of me ever producing a good suspense novel.

Word of the Day: Consequences

con·se·quence (kŏn'sĭ-kwěns', -kwəns)
n. Something that logically or naturally follows from an action or condition.

Coming from someone who's spent many years of her life making up stories and turning them into novels, I have absolutely no sympathy for someone who makes up a story and calls it a memoir. How niave must you be to think that no one will connect you with the book -- say, for instance, your own SISTER, who clearly knows your background does not include drug running for LA gangs?

The memoir Love and Consequences was published recently as a mostly true account of the writer's real life. She claimed a lot of facts about her life in the book, though none of it ended up being true. And there's even a picture of her on the flap. You're asking to be discovered! The thing that gets me the most about this story is that she could have written the book as a fictional account of her life, which wouldn't have led to thousands of books being recalled from bookstores and her reputation being smeared all over the sidewalk. She would have even been able to keep the $100K.

Word of the Day: Progress

76000 / 85000 words. 89% done!

I found this really cool word meter on another writer's blog and figured I had to have one of my own. Since I'm almost finished with my book, it won't be nearly as fun and interactive, but I like it anyway. I'll start fresh with it when I start in on the second book in the series. I'm also thinking about running a contest to name my second book. I'm really no good at titling. Silly thing for a writer to admit. But it's HARD!

Okay, so after my last revision, I cut the novel down to 76,000 words. I'm aiming for 85,000, so I still have a lot of layering to do in order to add the last 9. This should be no problem in relatively short order because I'm used to this approach of writing. I tend to write a first draft that is rather devoid of layers. Then I go back in during edits and layer in the good stuff. I find this keeps me from getting caught in the weeds of trying to make everything perfect the first time. It always comes out in the end anyway, no matter how I started out. So, 9,000 words and I'm 100%! Query letter almost done. Synopsis on the way.

Word of the Day: Winter Storm Warning

A WINTER STORM WARNING MEANS SIGNIFICANT AMOUNTS OF SNOW...SLEET...AND ICE ARE EXPECTED OR OCCURRING. THIS WILL MAKE TRAVELVERY HAZARDOUS OR IMPOSSIBLE.

So this puts a bit of a crimp in my plans to go to Philadelphia for a nice relaxing weekend getaway. Last weekend the sun was shining, it was 60 degrees and cloudless skies... Of course this would happen NOW, just when I finally get a day off work to flee the city.

I suppose my cute little red rear-wheel drive sports car would not improve the travel conditions from hazardous or impossible to (*kneals in prayer*) a breeze! Why do bad things happen to good people?

Word of the Day: Tumult

a. Highly distressing agitation of mind or feeling; turbulent mental or emotional disturbance

I have spent the past three weeks writing, rewriting, virtually wadding up my computer screen and tossing it in the trash like all writers in movies tend to do repeatedly (at least I'm not wasting actual paper). Let me tell you something -- writing a query letter is one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life -- far exceeding jumping from a moving airplane, climbing the stairs at the Eiffel Tower and building a new website in six weeks. Mind you, I've never given birth or climbed Mt. Everest. Those, I imagine are harder.

I can't decide between danger and peril. Is danger too bland? Is peril too pretentious? I've already indulged in hours worth of time reading hundreds of different "great" query letters online that I could have spent just writing the damn thing. It's gotten me no where because my query still sucks and no one can give me a straight answer about whether I should put my title in all CAPS or if it's proper to underline the name of a newspaper. I might as well just write it in fifteen seconds with my eyes closed, seal it up and send it off. My chances of landing an agent are probably the same either way.

Dear God -- please intervene!

Word of the Day: Ineluctable

ineluctable \in-ih-LUCK-tuh-buhl\, adjective:Impossible to avoid or evade; inevitable.

Somehow, thanks to the inevitable passage of time, here it is, one day short of one year since I left for Egypt. I wouldn't have remembered except for the fact that I left the counter up on my blog. 364 days ago I left for Egypt.

Almost as much time has passed since I stopped writing new entries to the blog in order to finish writing my book. In my last post, I mentioned something about procrastination and how if I didn't just get going on it I'd still be writing it a year later. Well, that wasn't far from the truth, even without the blog to distract me. It's been a long, hard road with this one, because I get wild ideas that drastically change the course of the book and I indulge myself and give in to the whim. Every major idea I change leads inevitably to another month or two of editing and fixing. And that brings me to this very moment. No, I haven't finished the book, but I have begun to feel guiltly about the stagnant state of this blog. So I am returning to the blogging world, and will be using the word of the day to describe the process of marketing my book, now that it's about 95% complete and inevitably on its way to a much more arduous state than being written. It now has to withstand the rejection and scorn of so many agents and editors who will no doubt hate it, wonder what sort of idiot spent two years writing it, and reject the hell out of it.

Bring it on!

Today, April 4, 2007....

I am finally posting a new blog entry to explain my extended absence. I was thinking last night that some people might thing I never returned from Egypt. But no, alas, I did return. I had a great time. Egypt is incredible, from almost every aspect.

The reason I'm posting now is to say that I have decided to take a short break from maintaining my blog in order to devote my time and energy to a new novel I'm writing. It is entitled Inauguration Day. I, admittedly, have been working on it for months and months, but I haven't been very serious about it, and now I've come to the conclusion that I'll still be working on it this time next year if I don't kick it into gear. So I'm taking a short hiatus from the blog in order to write the novel. Check the bookstore nearest you for a copy of Inauguration Day in about 2 years.

Thanks for reading. Check back later for more updates.

Word of the Day: Egypt

I'm going to Egypt in 3 days. For two weeks. I couldn't be more excited. Over the past few weeks I've been trying to prepare myself for the journey by watching videos of Egyptologists and the treasures of the ancient world. Mummies, tombs, antiquities. It's all very exciting. I've watched stories about Moses, Cleopatra, the Sphinx, King Tut, Ramases, the Pyramids... You name it, I'm a temporary scholar. I don't think I've ever cramped as much knowledge as this in such a short time. There's so much rich history in Egypt. Two weeks is not enough to cover it all.

Word of the Day: New Construction

It didn't seem as easy as it sounds to say it, but I have moved everything I own from my condo and into a new apartment. And yes, it's new. Living there is almost like I've reverted back in time two years to when my condo was brand new. No one on the planet acknowledges the existence of the address (and to prove it, I haven't received a single piece of mail since I moved in with the exception of a postcard). I had to go to the DMV in person to register my car -- something I haven't done since the inception of the Internet -- because the all-knowing super-highway rejected my address. And worst of all, though I am only 1 mile from the metro, my commute has gotten longer and exceedingly more tedious. Today I walked a mere 1/3 mile to the nearest bus stop with tears streaming down my face, not from frustration, but from the "Feels Like" 11 degree, 23-mph winds that were pelting me in the face. And I still find that more convenient and agreeable than the builder's temporary arrangement to have us all call cabs in the morning and evening in leui of a bus stop being right out front until everyone finally moves in.

So the joy of living in a brand new place, being the first resident to begin the process of wear and tear, and enjoying the top-of-the-line appliances and ammenities does come at a price, but it's well worth it for the 42-inch plasma tv and fireplace, and the extra 400 sq ft of space I now have. All said, it was a pretty fair trade. I close on the sale of my condo on Friday. An end to an era.

Word of the Day: Pupil

I've decided to get lasik surgery finally, after many years of people telling me how wonderful it is to see without the aid of glasses or contacts. I am currently wearing my glasses and wishing I could see anything outside the small 1 inch frames. I can't even eat with my glasses on because at this angle, only half the food is clear enough to identify. So, it's time. I went to the pre-op consultation yesterday to learn whether I'd be a good candidate, and while I am at no great risk of problems, I did learn one interesting fact about my eyes. They are freakishly large.

Consider this statement " Under fluorescent lighting, normal pupil sizes ranged from 2.6 mm to 5 mm. In brighter lighting, normal pupil sizes ranged from 1.9 mm to 3.6 mm." In normal light, my pupils range from 7 to 8 mm. So when dilated, you can imagine how freakish my eyes look. After receiving the dilating eye drops, the doctor measured my pupils at 8.7 mm. That's almost twice the size of a normal human eye! Now I'm worried that my abnormally sized eyes and my insanely sensitive hearing might indicate that I'm a a super hero waiting to discover her true powers, or I'm just a circus act waiting to happen.

Word of the Day: Moose

Thanks to this very informative article on how winter is chasing moose out of the mountains and into the city of Anchorage, Alaska, I now know things about the moose that I never knew before:

1. Moose eat up to 40 pounds of wood a day, enough to fill two large garbage cans
2. In a normal winter 130 moose can die from car collisions within the city limits
3. A normal winter in Anchorage produces 68 inches of snow. This year they've already had 76, and there are four more months to go.
4. Residents pay anywhere between $195 and $265 for a moose retrieval service
5. Moose weigh half a ton and will lose a pound a day due to winter conditions.

Word of the Day: Censure

1. To find fault with and condemn as wrong; to blame; to criticize severely.
2. To express official disapproval of.

Recent census data shows that for the first time, more women are unmarried than married. Not only is the divorce rate skyrocketing, the number of women choosing not to marry at all has risen, which indicates a major change in societal norms.

One article seems to think that women are now more critical than ever of our mates. Men aren't bringing home the "bacon" as much as they were before -- in many cases the woman is now the breadwinner of the family -- and men are not contributing as much as a woman expects. So us women have decided we don't need men afterall! Or is it really that we're just too critical?

I've always thought I have way too high a standard for other people. I am doubtlessly too critical of men I date. Not because I think he needs to be perfect -- because I am far from perfect myself -- but because he is ultimately a reflection of me, and if I wouldn't allow myself to behave that way, why would I want my mate to behave that way? He doesn't have to be perfect, but his normal behavior has to be fairly similar to my own or we're not going to get along. And since I no longer have to rely on another human being to make a living, or maintain my standard of living, I have the ability to be very selective. And if I never find him, that's okay too. Being single isn't the worst thing in the world.

Word of the Day: Ramen

I feel horrible about my neglect. I meant to blog about this last week and with the craziness of selling my condo and finding a new place to live, I neglected the Noodle Guy. A few weeks ago, the man who invented instant ramen noodles died. His name was Momofuku Ando. And can we all agree he's the most brilliant man to ever live? What would many of us have ever done without ramen noodles? Two thirds of all college students would die of hunger, refusing to cook anything that required more than hot water and two minutes worth of effort. My dad still uses ramen to supplement his own cooking -- which usually includes noodles, the flavor packet, salsa and some Franks Red Hot sauce. I personally use ramen noodles to make oriental cabbage salad. I crumble the noodles into the coleslaw, and if I didn't have the chicken seasoning packet how would I make the dressing? Thank you, Mr. Ando, for your unmistakable contribution to society.

Ramen noodles, by contrast, are a dish of effortless purity. Like the egg, or tea, they attain a state of grace through a marriage with nothing but hot water. After three minutes in a yellow bath, the noodles soften. The pebbly peas and carrot chips turn practically lifelike. A near-weightless assemblage of plastic and foam is transformed into something any college student will recognize as food, for as little as 20 cents a serving. The Whole Story

Word of the Day: Amnemonic

amnemonic: unknowing

I'm filling out some paperwork today for which I have to recall every detail of the last seven years including, but not limited to, every place I've lived, every job I've held, every person I've ever known, every country I've traveled too and every topic of conversative I've ever had. Okay, well, not the last part, but seriously. Who remembers all those details? Frankly, I'd like to forget half of those decisions. One of the best years of my life I spent traveling all over the world and when I returned, I was jobless and worked a bunch of temp and freelance jobs for various people. That one year is now costing me days worth of time I'll never get back, plus insane amounts of brain power spent trying to recall where I went after I left Rome.

Word of the Day: Homemade

home·made
1. made or prepared at home, locally, or by the maker's own efforts

I have been to four Christmas parties this week. For each I have made some incredibly involved appetizer or food dish, prepared entirely from scratch with my own hands -- very homemade -- and might I add, delicious. But I've come to realize that no one cares if you bring something homemade or if you stop by the store for some cheese and crackers. As long as the food is edible, they will eat it, and they don't care if you slaved over it for approximately 2 seconds in the line at Giant, or if you lovingly prepared it over the course of five hours at home. Therefore, I have decided to no longer make things at home for public consumption at parties where no one cares. Sorry everyone -- no more chili cheese bread, ginger beef wraps, chocolate kahlua triffle. No more.

Merry Christmas!

Word of the Day: Disquietude

dis·qui·e·tude
–noun the state of disquiet; uneasiness.

I type this as I am listening to a choir of cicadas hissing in the background. That might not seem abnormal, since cicadas naturally make their home here in Washington D.C., but if you add the fact that I am sitting inside a building right now and it is December, then you've got a strange conundrum. The fact is, the noise is not cicadas, it is a loose or leaky pipe that hisses invariably as air is forced through it. The noise has lasted now seven days.

This would not be a problem for the normal human being. But alas, I am not normal. We knew that already. I have super-sonic hearing. You laugh, I know. But it is very true. I sometimes hear noises that no one else in the world would ever notice unless I was kind enough to point them out. My coworkers often balk at me for pointing out noises such as the cicadas to them because they were blissfully unaware until I mentioned it. But why should I suffer alone because of my "special" hearing? I might have to buy a pair of noise reduction headphones just to survive.

You're laughing again. But there's an actual hormone, called aldosterone, that can increase your hearing as you get older and higher levels are produced. If my hearing gets any better, I won't be able to live in a normal society.

Today is my dad's birthday. And just so he knows that I'm thinking of him, I thought I'd broadcast it all over the Internet.