An oldie, but always a goodie. Be sure to play with your speakers on.

Labels: fun

Labels: goals, ideas, kitten

The head cold that will not go away has almost defeated me. But I have too much on my plate to give in an curl up in bed until I can breathe again. ;)

Much has been happening at Casa Staring. A new kitchen table has arrived along with a new front door! The DH is encouraging me not to paint our existing front door bright orange for Halloween. We'll see how tomorrow goes.

We also spent most of the weekend looking for cans of Clark baked beans so that I can enter a contest. They can't be found in my neighbourhood -- we went to seven different grocery store chains and even Wal-Mart, which will certainly take another few years off my life.

They're out there, I just know it. Now if I could just find the energy to get out of my pj's.

I've also been doing a lot of thinking, which is dangerous even without the head cold. And most of my thoughts have been about (surprise, surprise) writing. How hard it can be. How easy it can be. How rejection can be a gift. How vengeance has three e's in it. ;)

You see, figuring out my current WIP was like looking for that particular brand of baked beans. Did I need to work on it? Not really. Did I want to work on it? Totally! It was just that something wasn't right. I blamed it on the whole "writing what I thought would sell instead of what I wanted to write" thing, but that was only part of the problem.

My heroine is a fabulous character who needs her story told; it's just that I had her at the wrong age. Instead of a 35-year-old forced to return home, she's really a teenager counting the days to finally get the hell out.

Wrote eight pages yesterday, which hasn't happened for a while, despite my December 31 deadline. Looks like I might just have enough enthusiasm for this project to take on Nano (National Writing Month) after all...

Labels: writing

Big heaping congratulations need to go out to Michelle and Mike, who both have brand new daughters on their homes after approximately nine months of waiting. Woo hoo!

I dunno about you, but new arrivals always make me think of every Beatles song ever recorded. Of course, this parody isn't about the wee ones, it's all about me. Why? Because it's my blog. ;)

Dear muse-ness, won’t you camp out and stay
Dear muse-ness, it would make my day
Computer’s up, my Word is too
You’re creative and I need you
Dear muse-ness, won’t you camp out and stay

Dear muse-ness, please avoid those guys
Dear muse-ness, they keep telling lies
My word count’s low, it has no zing
And you’ve screwed up most everything
Dear muse-ness, won’t you please avoid those guys

Come around round
Come around round round
Come around

Dear muse-ness, show me all your guile
Dear muse-ness, like a girl gone wild
Pages will be like paper planes
If you don’t help me out again
Dear muse-ness, won’t you show me all your guile

Dear muse-ness, won’t you camp out and stay
Dear muse-ness, it would make my day
Computer’s up, my Word is too
You’re creative and I need you
Dear muse-ness, won’t you camp out and stay

Labels: parodies

Labels: fun

Here's what happened. There I was, minding my own business at my client's office when I decided to take a wee break from editing and pop by a few blogs. Over at my contest club's blog, one of the members posted a note about an awesome event happening to promote the current mooing-milk-carton contest going on in Ontario right now.

If you get a carton of milk and it moos when you open it, you win a prize. You also get a coupon for the milk that wasn't in your carton. And yes, if you wanna know, the cartons are filled with water so you can't tell which ones have the moo-thingies in them. (I checked.)

So anyway, the moo-people were giving away for-sure for-sure mooing cartons to the first 100 people who showed up at Yonge-Dundas Square at 4:00 p.m. My client's office is just up the street from there, so I was in that elusive right place/right time zone.

I checked my watch: it was 3:35 p.m. Not wanting to miss the opportunity of a lifetime (the top prize is a car), I torpedoed out without my umbrella and raced the six or so blocks down Yonge Street. Past the meanderers and the punks. Past the baby strollers and the hot dog vendors.

The square was completely empty...except for the dude at the tourism info booth.

"Hey, isn't there a mooing carton thing going on here at 4?" I asked.

The guy looked up from his newspaper and rolled his eyes.

"There was. Yesterday."

So, somewhat drenched and disappointed, I shlumped back to the office. feeling like a total mooser. ;) When I got back to the office I checked the post again...and noticed that in big bold letters it said MONDAY.

That's when I knew for sure that it was Tuesday. Le moo.

Labels: adventures, contests

Labels: kitten, writing

That was a question I found myself asking today when I was trying hard not to strangle a client my email. (It's not impossible to do if you believe in the power of the Internet.)

Feeling about as friendly as one of J.K. Rowling's Dementors, I hit the reply button and realized that responding without an oh-so-necessary waiting period would have unfortunate results. So I hugged Zaphod instead. ;)

Even with the calming effects of kitten love, I struggled with the annoyance I felt. What on earth is wrong with them? Didn't they realize that they weren't making sense? Was this just their way to make my Friday even more freaky? And who the hell ate all the Golden Oreos?

That's when the question of knowledge hit me square on the forehead: How can I benefit from this problem?

Huh. It was a new angle I hadn't even considered exploring. And by putting myself on the other side of the situation, like looking at it from above rather than from my or their shoes, I spotted an opportunity that had been lurking in the sidelines the whole time.

And I have a feeling that this will work with the problem I'm having with my current work in progress (WIP) as well. Go figure. ;)

I might have mentioned this before but I love getting mail.

It could be that most of my bills are received electronically and the majority of my clients pay by check, but it's mainly because I enter a ton of contests. And because of all those entries, I'm on oodles of product manufacturers' mailing lists -- and I receive coupons and samples all the time.

The best is when I get a coupon with a free sample. Talk about a win-win!

So the other day I was delighted to find a small package in my mailbox that contained samples of shampoo and conditioner plus a $1-off coupon! Squee! I filed the coupon away in my coupon organizer (Snicker all you want people, but can you claim to save 10% off your grocery bill each month?) and set the samples aside for a special occasion. Like a shower on a Thursday.

Fast-forward to this morning. I had a theme song picked out already -- It's Raining Men -- and proceeded to set the stage for a life-altering hair wash.

I raised the attached-together packages up to my face and realized that, since I stopped showering with my glasses on in 1987, I couldn't tell which was the shampoo and which was the conditioner. The type was so small that squinting just made it worse.

So I took a gamble and assumed the the left-hand package held the shampoo and proceeded to pull at the little tear-off thingie at the top of the package. But it wasn't there.

Running out of hot water and blind as a bat, I felt along all the edges for that tell-tale little cut into the side that would easily open with a gentle tug. No such luck. So I did what any woman desperate to get at free shampoo would do: tore at it with my teeth.

My gums will heal eventually.

Even though my efforts to open the package were enough to draw my own blood, I was only able to open a wee tear for the shampoo to come out from. Aiming it at the top of my head, I squeezed all the shampoo toward the tear, hoping that a jet stream of product, not unlike something seen in an adult video, would land on my hair.

It got me in the good eye.

Eyes stinging, gums bleeding and sputtering words normally reserved for screaming at the computer when my Internet provider goes down, I managed to get some shampoo onto my head and lather up.

So far, all this had cost me was time, so I was still feeling that I was ahead of the game.

Then my foot found the fallen pack of conditioner and I hit the tub floor before I could do a thing about it.

I'm okay, but my hair has the dry flyaways. ;)

It's been a very biz-ay couple of days...for about two weeks. I even felt myself drifting away at our contest club meeting last night. Ack!

So when I got home and opened my email to discover even more work on my plate, I looked up at the ceiling and cried, "What more do you want from me?"

The Universe responded. In spades.

Here's whassup in no particular order:

• The reality TV series I did a pilot episode for back in August is one approval away from going into production!

• After a cool conversation with a magazine editor, I've been asked to submit another article query to her and she has referred me to an editor at another publication!

• I'll be doing a workshop on creativity for my RWA chapter!

• And, it turns out that I really do like my current WIP. I just need to make a few radical changes and it should all be good. :::Inner Cheerleader does a few cartwheels:::

How I'm going to get everything on my to-do list done, I dunno. But with the right soundtrack anything is possible.

Even though my Inner Critic is now touring Provence, I still find myself surrounded by criticism. That's because I finally received the critiques from one of the contests I entered this summer. ;)

It's all good; I'm still breathing. Constructive feedback is a gift. Now that gift rage exists (see my post from yesterday), I will take a moment to thank any and every judge who filled out a scoresheet for H&B. :::pauses a moment for effect:::

All I meant to do was print out the scoresheets so that I'd be able to review them at a later date. Seriously. It was just a spooky coincidence that I grabbed the warm pages from the printer and proceeded to read them before the ink was barely dry. ;)

Where everyone has the same opinion, I'm cool. In fact, most of those things I've already revised in the fourth or sixty-sixth draft. ;)

Thank goodness I took out the cast of thousands and all those restaurant scenes like my lovely betas suggested...no, demanded.

Then there are the yins and yangs of counsel and concern. The wangs and the chungs. One hates this while the other wants more of it. Some LOL while others don't get the punchline. Each comment brings about an over-the-top reaction like those from Sally Field ("You really like me!") to Greta Garbo ("I vant to be alone").

I'm tempted to keep score. There's no need to though, because they already did. Le sigh.

And the best part of all?

I can use all of this to make the novel even better. Just not today. Or even this month.

Labels: writing

Giving a gift with the expectation that the recipient will fawn all over it -- or even say thank you -- is getting to be a very dangerous situation. Especially if fruit jellies are involved.

Read all about it by clicking here.

Imagine if someone tried to pull a stunt like that in the good old days. You know, like when my dad said, "In a good year, we'd get two rocks at Christmas." Or, even better, at a baby shower...

Surrounded by giggling women and a mass of wrapping paper and gifts for her little one to come, Gwen opened another package, revealing a box of baby wipes. She smiled, put it aside, and reached for the next gift.

Sissy, from her seat at the other end of the room, cleared her throat. "Aren't you going to say thank you?"

Gwen paused mid-unwrap. "What for?"

"For the gift you just opened."

The one that made her choose between her so-called friend and a pack of Virginia Slims. The nicotine cravings were driving her mad, but she promised herself that she'd behave for the sake of making a good impression with Gwen's new friends. After all, they might come to her upcoming Mary Kay party.

The pregnant woman held up the box of wipes. "This?"

Sissy nodded.

"Oh, well, there was no card..."

"There was a tag on the wrap," the younger woman said loudly. "Wait, don't tell me, you were waiting to see what the real gift was before saying thank you."

"Zip it Sissy!" an older woman hissed.

That comment brought Sissy to her feet. "Well if you can't appreciate them, neither should your baby!" she shouted as she ran over to the pile of gifts and proceeded to stomp all over them. Some broke under the pressure of her stilettos, while others, including the baby wipes, remained intact.

Eventually the angry young woman was contained in a hall closet until the authorities arrived.

Gwen refused to press charges. She did, however, return the wipes to Wal-Mart and exchanged them for name-brand ones.

Labels: adventures, fun

Last week I was delighted to find out that I won a full manuscript critique from an editor. Squee!
Of course, the first thing I wanted to do was pick up H&B and give it another spit and polish before sending it over.

Remember that "spit and polish" can mean different things to different people. For some, it could simply involve using the spelling and grammar check tools in Word. For me, it's a complete read-through.

That's when Michelle burst onto the scene and said something about using this as yet another excuse to put off working on my current WIP. Have I mentioned how much I hate it when she's right?

Anyhoo, I gave myself two days to give the manuscript a quick read, just because my Inner Critic hadn't retired at that point. ;)

And it was...all right. No, pretty darn good. So what the heck was I waiting for? This ms didn't need me when there was an editor waiting in the wings to give it her attention.

So off it went, leaving me alone with my current WIP that I totally need to think over because it's turned into a book I don't want to write. :::shakes fist at the sky:::

In an odd twist of fate, research for a magazine article has tweaked a long-forgotten idea that I may want to play around with. Trouble is, I wanted to have a completed novel-length draft of something...and my deadline of December 31 is approaching fast.

Labels: contests, goals, writing

Something huge took place today. I encouraged my Inner Critic to retire.

Without even the slightest snicker or hint of protest, he signed the release papers and accepted his severance package -- consisting of my two cents and a copy of my completed manuscript. ;) I'll be celebrating with dinner at McDonald's tonight and a slice of cake when I'm out for lunch on Saturday.

While most people would happily fire their Inner Critic after 40 years of quality discouragement, threats and snide remarks, I didn't feel that would be right. After all, he was damned good at his job -- he kept my manuscript in the "revising" stage for over a year!

And in a corporate reshuffle worthy of any Fortune 500 company, the newly vacated position is now being filled by none other than my Inner Cheerleader. With over 40 years of experience in encouraging friends and family to go after what they really want, she will focus her efforts my way so that I can reap the benefits of having an internal cheering section.

A theme song is in the works. Uniforms and pompoms are also being evaluated. I'll keep you posted.

Hey, is your inner board of directors in need of reshuffling?

Labels: fun, goals, ideas

This could just be the leftover turkey talking, but I'm feeling a sense of meh with a lot of things. The last Harry Potter. Last night's episode of The Biggest Loser. Even all the coverage on the big honkin' election we're having in Ontario today.

Meh. Meh. Meh.

Then again, there is another kind of struggle, namely the current WIP. I did one of those things that all kinds of writing guides tell you not to do: go for an idea that you think will sell instead of the one you want to write. There I was, thinking that for me, it would be different. It's not.

I can feel the difference as soon as I sit down for my scheduled hour to rock the Word doc. Instead of filling the page with words that may or may not survive my first round of edits, I'm staring at the words already there, feeling an odd sinking sensation that this isn't the story I intended to tell.

And that totally sucks.

My goal to have another novel completed (at least a first draft) by December 31 still looms large on the horizon -- all I have to do now is figure out which idea is the one I want to have at my side for the next 2-1/2 months.

2-1/2 months? Damn...

Labels: blahs, ideas, writing

Doesn't that sound like a film Ang Lee needs to direct?

It appears that the kitten is not satisfied with the catbana in the living room for his nighttime sleeps. The cushy catbed is now reserved for moments requiring quiet when there is no chance that meat will be served (i.e., dinnertime has passed or the humans have left the building).

So Zaphod now rests at the end of the master bed and patrols my feet to practise his ninja-kitty moves. When that stops being fun (usually with a quick spray of water from my weapon of cat's distraction), he'll crawl up to rest between the snoring DH and I. And start to purr.

Now earplugs have been part of my life ever since the DH and I shacked up. If you live within a 50-mile radius of Casa Staring, you know why. Of course, this is when I have to admit that I'm a snorer too, but I think my snoring habit was developed as an act of self-defence so that I could hear something -- anything -- else besides the six degrees of bedside log sawing.

But now there's a nice purring rumbling across the bedsheets. And it's hard to hear because the DH is too darn loud.

Zaphod, like a true kitten after my own heart, also realized my dilemma and tried to put a stop to the horrible noise coming from the other side of the bed: he pounced on the DH's nose.

With a shout, DH sat up, flipped on the light and reached for the spray bottle.

In an Oscar-worthy performance, Zaphod and I pretended we were fast asleep. I even faked a slumberish murmur as the kitten continued to purr. The DH, after realizing that stitches wouldn't be required on his beaten-up face, skulked off to the spare bedroom in search of an undisturbed sleep.

The kitten and I gave each other a high-five and moved to the centre of the bed.

Then he bit me too -- but not that hard. ;)

Labels: adventures, kitten

Friends, Romans, coupon-users...

I'm taking a wee Internet holiday so that I can get through a mass of assignments and make some substantial progress (like more than 50 words) on my current WIP. It appears that entering oodles of online contests, reading everyone's blogs and asking the Mystical Smoking Head of Bob endless questions has earned me a black belt in procrastination. ;)

See you on the other side of Canadian Thanksgiving!

It's been a crazy couple of days filled with highs, lows and the odd scream of frustration.

In case you aren't aware, I enter contests. A lot. My social network includes a contesting club that meets once a month to share contesting tips, brag about our wins and delight in the fact that we all understand each other when we say things like "the Dell game drove me nuts" or "I can't read the verification code on the win 15 cruises site."

Monday, 12:42 p.m.
I'm working onsite for a client when the DH calls, announcing that there was a delivery attempt by FedEx that morning. Overcome with excitement, I barely hear him say that I must be the person to sign for the packages (there are two) and, if I want, we can go to the FedEx depot that evening.

Have I told you all how much I love my husband? Le sigh. Actually, he just wants to get me and the packages together as soon as possible to avoid any package-deprivation "incidents."

After I hang up the phone, I proceed to tell everyone in the office that a huge prize is waiting for me at FedEx and then I send an email to a few of my contesting buddies so they can send positive "winning" vibes my way. That's when I realize I have plans that evening: dinner with Aunt Susan. I'm positive she'd love to head over to FedEx before we eat.

Monday, 6:27 p.m.
I go online to track the package and call the FedEx depot to get the name of the company that is sending me the huge prize that needs two packages. Then I go to the company's website and squeal with glee as I take a peek at their client list: it's the who's who of packaged goods and products including Kraft, Heinz and Maytag!

Aunt Susan arrives. To my utter dismay, she's not excited about the opportunity to drive for half an hour to the FedEx depot. In fact, she declines immediately. I consider offering her a share of the prize but resist the temptation, as I'm still not sure what's waiting for me.

The DH steps in before I have a chance to threaten my aunt with violence in order to make her understand how important it is to get to FedEx RIGHT NOW and tells her that he will take me first thing tomorrow to put me out of my misery.

Aunt Susan and I go to dinner and I try to control the twitching.

Tuesday, 8:07 a.m.
It's raining and the roads are slick as commuters face yet another workday...

After a few wrong turns and a lot of pent-up frustration, we arrive at the FedEx Ground depot. This is not the depot that I am used to, since most of the FedEx deliveries I have picked up have been at the larger, cleaner "air shipment" one.

We've squeezed into a small security booth where the guard has the radio on a little too loud and he's placed four calls to figure out what to do. I assume that having people attempt to pick up their packages (even when I called to tell them I would be doing this last evening) is a little new. Who this young man has called, we don't know. Apparently not the right people as we've been waiting for a good ten minutes.

Somehow we hear the phone ring on the desk and he answers it, shouting over the wailing chorus of a song that is probably very popular to those under the age of 23-3/4. He hangs up and tells us we're free to go into the building.

We walk into the fenced-off walkway without being searched or frisked with a metal detector and step up the open metal staircase (those things totally freak me out) to the Door of Destiny.

Okay, it was a Hallway of Destiny that led to a small waiting room with old FedEx literature (they're hiring), a table and a few worn chairs. The nice woman in the adjoining room shouts out:"Wait there, someone will be right with you."

I take a seat and clutch my delivery notice to my chest. This is it -- the big moment. It crosses my mind that the packages might be too large to carry back down the stairs that freak me out. Perhaps the DH could take two trips. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath helps calm my nerves...no, it doesn't. ;)

A woman entered the room carrying a large manilla envelope. Not a documents-only envelope that could contain authentic "You've won a contest" declaration forms or a big-honkin' check, but one that was holding a box of some sort.

Leaping out of my chair, I rushed over to her. The return address on the envelope wasn't familiar and I felt that something was missing.

"Hang on, it says here there are two packages," I said, holding up my delivery notice.

The woman took the tag, peered at it and said, "Oh, that's Terry; no one can read his handwriting. It's a one."

I showed her my ID, signed for the package and raced back to the car with Aden. Like on previous trips to pick up packages, I had brought along a pair of scissors. Call me prepared. Or crazy.

Inside the envelope was...a Parcheesi board game.

It was a true case of contest-induced lunchbag letdown. At least I burned a bunch of calories during this process. ;) The DH was kind enough not to say anything as he drove me to the office so I wouldn't be late.

Tuesday, 10:35 a.m.
The DH just called. Another package has arrived for me, this time through the post. Even though I have just been burned by the contesting gods, I can't help but thrill in the excitement of the unknown yet again.

What on earth could it be this time? Checkers? Trivial Pursuit? I send another email out to my contesting buddies and spend the rest of the day wondering what awesome prize awaits me.

Tuesday, 5:45 p.m.
It was a huge box of toilet paper for my household to try from a survey company!

Woo hoo! A board game and toilet paper? I love my life!

Labels: adventures, contests

To some, October means the start of holiday shopping or Halloween. To me, October signals the last gasp to complete the goals I made for 2007. In just three short months will I be able to make this the year that sees me accomplish all that I set out to do?

Yeah, it totally makes me panic.

While September gave me that "hurray - let's learn something and buy new clothes" feeling, October just has me running scared. In 90 days I will be facing a brand new list of goals for 2008...will it have the foundation of a bunch of completed ones from 2007?

Of course it will. :::takes another swig of Diet Coke:::

The past few days took me way out (Way out! That's where the fun is...) of my comfort zone as I actively participated in a networking event. These are events where I normally scan the area for ballot boxes and snack foods, and then head for a dark corner where I can sip my drink and perhaps chat with another person who fears networking as much as I do.

Putting myself out there for all to see is easy; what's hard is putting myself out there with a purpose. This time it was to let other women entrepreneurs know about http://www.womencandoanything.com/ , the website I edit, and have them sign up for our newsletter (which you should if you haven't already, hint, hint) and join our business directory.

And asking is one of the hardest things for me to do, yet it's the most important thing you can do no matter what business you're in or your goals are.

What is it that you need right now? A referral? Advice? A bamboo steamer? Why not pick up the phone or send an email and ask two people to help you get it?

It's not that hard...and it's a skill I need to master now that I've got procrastination down pat. :)

Labels: goals, skills