A colleague at one of the places I do regular onsite work let her contract run out this week. Why? She felt it was time to get back to freelancing.

She felt trapped -- emotionally and financially -- by working in a cubicle every day. And I totally understand where she's coming from. My butt has spent many years in cubicles that just seemed to get smaller and smaller over time. And being dependent on a steady stream of cash does tend to make people cling to a job that's just not working anymore.

This week was the first time in ages that I saw her smiling most of the time. And that made me kind of sad. Surely working for someone else can't be that bad...oh, forget I asked that one. I know the answer. ;)

Now don't get me wrong. There are days when I really want to tell my boss to go to hell. The trouble is that the boss is yours truly. Sure, I could hold up a mirror and give myself a heap of disgruntled-employee attitude, but that would make the cat nervous. The DH too.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that when the grass appears greener on the other side, sometimes a healthy dose of fertilizer is involved. Perfection is impossible to maintain and foolish to expect with any kind of career, whether working for "the man" or doing the self-employment thing. There are a lot of variables.

There are some people out there who can make it all seem effortless, but these are also people who enjoy eating high-fiber cereal on a "regular" basis. ;) But ask any of them and they'll tell you that it takes a lot of work to make anything work -- careers, relationships, effective coupon usage. You just have to determine what success means to you.

And I guess that's where my head's at right how. What did I do in 2007 that I consider a success? It's something that I've been pondering as I set my goals for the new year ahead.

I know, I really should save the heavy thinking for Mondays, but as I work from home most of the time, I tend to lose track of which day it is. ;)

So I wish dear Carmen the best of luck on her free fall back into the freelance world -- it's a fun place most of the time. As long as you remember the tin foil.

Labels: goals

I have to say that I found last night's episode of America's Next Top Model to be a particularly educational one. And not just because the yummy Nigel Barker was the photographer this week. (Oh, did I just write that? That was my inner pen...)

It was their go-see day, when each model had to "go see" a number of designers in order to get booked for modelling jobs. They were given the list of designers, their locations and a time that they had to return to their starting-off point.

Oh, did I mention that they were in Shanghai? LOL

Still, it was a colourful reminder of how important time management is in everything we do. Three of the five girls failed to return on time and were disqualified from winning the challenge. One of the gals spent so much time wandering around the streets like Lindsay Lohan on a Friday night gone wrong, she only made it to one appointment.

We're all given the same number of hours in a day; how we make use of them is what will make us or break us.

Several successful writers have said that the key to being so prolific is sitting down and writing every day for a least a few hours.

Huh, imagine that. I must admit that lately I've been thinking about writing for a least a few hours every day. But that's not what gets words on the page.

One trick that worked for me (until I abandoned it because I'm a freak of nature) was only checking my email three or four times a day. Can you imagine? Still, I found it enabled me to stick to my goals/project/word count and not be distracted by all those emails -- or the fact that I had no new emails. Sob!

I was once asked by a prospective client what my business hours were. It made me stop and think about when I worked on all of the projects on my plate: 24/7. That's when I realized that, without downtime, I was heading straight for a total meltdown.

I told the client my hours were 9-5, Monday to Friday. Unless they wanted to pay my overtime rate of five gazillion dollars. I'm sure they'll be getting back to me soon. ;)

So what do you do to manage time better?

Labels: skills, writing

My Lame-o Nano efforts meant that I missed out on seeing a lot of great blog posts at some of my favourite haunts, so now that I've been checking them all out I thought I'd share:

Kalbzayn has a nice comment on editing Santa's vocabulary.

S William Shaw has a perfect gift for young readers with The Santa Mysteries.

Six Degrees of Sexy takes a tour of Amy Ruttan's brain!

Deborah shares seven random things about writing that have me thinking...which is dangerous.

Laurie launched a new website, so be sure to check it out!

Kissed by Venus shares news of a call for science fiction, fantasy and horror submissions for SPUTNIK57.

And, Michelle Rowen gives all writers a big kick in the butt with "Excuses, Excuses," which has me running back to my keyboard.

Click here to make your own. And be sure to tell me when I can "read all about it!"

Labels: fun

Hello again!

I'm still recovering from a weekend filled with great times and groovy friends as Saturday turned out to be one of the best Great Exchange parties ever (Michelle's unwanted items were fought over with loud squeals and kung-fu moves) and Sunday was spent with some crazy contesting friends assembling loot bags. Woot!

So today I'm playing catch-up with an attention-deprived kitten following my every move and speaking up every once in a while to let me know that he needs more lovin'. And that's too darn cute to resist, even if I still haven't found where I hid all my clutter on Friday.

Currently I'm searching the house for a recycling bin and a bag of carrots that was too big to fit in the fridge with all the yummy treats the girls brought over. I hope I left the veggies in a cool place...and one that Zaphod can't get to. ;)

The main focus of the today is printing out all the stuff for my Golden Heart entry so that I can send it out this afternoon. Of course, I've just realized that I'm low on paper (too many online coupons to pass up lately) and I need to purchase one of those big honkin' can't-break-open envelopes so that my entry arrives complete and unblemished by postal grot.

The kitten sitting on the printer and trying to lick the pages is simply making the exercise more fun. ;)

After that, I have a maxed-out to-do list that keeps on requiring an update as my short-term memory has started kicking in again after seven-layer-dip overload. Oh, and the potato salad on Saturday was pretty darn tasty too. I made up for it all my eating healthy -- red pepper slices, baby carrots and clementines -- yesterday during loot bag assembly. What I won't mention are the potato chips and chocolates...rats.

And while all this is going on, I'm starting to think about 2008 and how I'm going to make it a year that totally rocks. Trouble is, that's just making me feel really, really tired at the moment. ;)

Maybe I'll put planning for 2008 off until tomorrow...or next week...

Labels: goals, writing

Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating the season in such a fabulous way that you need the rest of the week just to recover. I'm soooo jealous!

Since it's turkey time, I thought I'd take a moment to celebrate the other turkeys in our lives. Ahem, I mean the ideas that totally sucked, showed up at the wrong time/wrong place or simply were skipped over because they weren't fully developed yet.

We've all had them. One of my most memorable ideas actually involved an actual turkey, which I didn't bother stuffing since it had "this plastic bag of stuff" already in it. Yeah, we ended up having ham instead. ;)

The nice thing about turkeys is they can be kept in the idea freezer and brought out again when the time is right. For me, it might be a particular character who doesn't have enough room in a certain WIP. Turns out, she needs her own darn novel.

Yeah, I'll get to that next year...

Or article ideas. A lot of new writers mistake topics for article ideas. They're not the same thing. There's a huge difference between an article on "eyebrows" or one on "what to do if you wax off your eyebrows by mistake."

The same can be said for a dinner menu. How would you feel if you made a reservation at Chez Chi-Chi-Poo-Poo weeks ago and, on the given night, you open the menu to see that you can choose from "chicken" or "beef" instead of "rosemary chicken with sweet potato dumplings" or "roast beef served medium-rare with a red wine reduction and asparagus spears"? Wouldn't you be feeling lunchbag letdown?

Can you tell I'm hungry?

So perhaps the key to dealing with those turkeys is to get to know them a little better so you can see where they belong.

Labels: ideas, writing

Oh my goodness, I totally missed out on having a happy 4ooth post par-tay! :(

But that's okay, because in three more sleeps I'll be at the best darn event of the season: the Great Exchange Party.

Just in time for the holidays, the GEP is an event that started waaaay back in high school when my girlfriends and I would gather with clothes, records (yes, LPs), books and other items that were too good to get rid of, but we no longer loved. And no, boyfriends weren't part of the deal. ;)

Then, a few years ago, my friend Kelly (who was with me back then at the original parties, fighting over rainbow socks and Duran Duran extended remixes) said we should do something like that again. Only at my house, because hers was a mess. ;)

So this year marks the return of the GEP for the third or fourth time, I really can't remember. Now older and wiser, we see this as a great way to unload items that are quite lovely and not experience the trauma of re-gifting to the original giver. Heck, it's leaving the family, so the risk of being discovered is next to nil.

Of course, with all of us being friends, it does pay to be careful about which items you bring.

The best part is hearing the stories behind some of the items, whether it's how they came into the owner's life (it was the third fondue set in a row from one aunt) or how inappropriate the gift was to the recipient (hand knit sweaters and wool allergies sometimes don't mix, no matter how lovely). Oh and then there was the time when one of the gals brought in this mirror from one of those as-seen-on-TV places that had this winding strap on it so that you could attach it to your arm...or shower curtain rod...or a steering wheel...

I can't remember who took that one home but I know somebody did!

Now if only I could find my living room so that everyone has a place to put their fabulous crap. Ooh, or I could just leave all that stuff out there and hope they take it away. ;)

Can't wait!

Labels: adventures, fun

Labels: blahs, fun, kitten

There I was, all caught up in the throes of Nano and holiday party invitations when I felt a wee niggle in the corner of my mind. Something about RWA...a contest of some sorts.

The Golden Heart contest deadline is fast approaching. Much faster than I anticipated. Eek!

You see, this year I promised myself that I wouldn't stay up 36 hours straight working on my manuscript until the final FedEx deadline and then spend a gazillion dollars shipping it by super-duper-fast-isn't-there-yet-already delivery. This year I was gonna totally plan ahead.

Okay.

So today, during a quiet moment when I really wanted to avoid working on anything at all, I decided to figure out how long it would take to send my entry by regular mail or by expedited delivery. The verdict? Regular takes 7-9 days, expedited is 3-5. Remember folks, I'm in Canada: a place where everything takes longer, including the arrival of spring.

Whipping out my handy Tasmanian Devil pocket calendar, I took a look at the due date of December 3 and started working backwards.

Then I freaked out.

Why? Because I need everything to be ready NOW. Pronto. Stat. Not that H&B isn't fabulous already. It is, it really is. I just wanna give it one last look before it heads down to Texas. Okay, maybe two looks...and a synopsis polish...

Guess I know what I'll be doing over the weekend. ;)

Labels: contests, goals, writing

After doing this post for my contest club's blog, I found that there are a lot of lessons here that can be applied to things other than contest entering, like finding an agent or even making the day job not suck so much. Choose your favourite option where applicable and enjoy:

Okay folks, there's been a lot of bellyaching and moaning about not being able to find time for contesting/writing/sleeping at your desk or complaining because the prizes just aren't coming your way/your boss is butt-ugly/Zac Efron doesn't know you're alive. And now it's time for me to slap y'all upside the head.

Dry spells happen -- it's a fact. I even remember a very dark time back in '93 when the only thing I'd won in a six-month period was a Pillsbury Doughboy watch that giggled every hour on the hour and I couldn't figure out how to make it stop/I sent 17 letters to the editor and none were published/I threatened my boss with a pair of scissors and he still didn't fire me.

Yeah, I still shudder at the thought.

It's okay to feel like crud when your name is nowhere near a winner's list/book contract/email from Zac Efron, but what's not okay is to keep doing things the same way and expect to get different results. We have to be innovative, people. Start thinking outside the ballot box/genre/cubicle.

Here are just a few tactics you might want to try:

1. Change your contest-entering/writing/work arrival time. Some people have experienced groovy wins/received book contracts/earned raises by getting up super-early and beating the rush.

2. Go after those hard-to-enter contests/top-pick agents/red staplers. Contest example: Write that darn essay or take a photo of your pet walrus. Homemakers Magazine recently held a contest where you had to submit a story of at least 500 words in order to enter. While they received thousands upon thousands of entries, only 700 people included a story. And those were the entries they chose the winner from.

Agent example: The worst thing that could happen if you approach the agent of your dreams is that they'll turn you down. But even worse than that is if you never approached said agent in the first place: then they won't even know about you or your kick-ass novel.

Red stapler example: Go watch Office Space, then you'll know.

3. Focus. Contest example: If you enter everything, you might "waste a win" (it's still my favourite phrase in the world, thanks to Donna). By focusing on entering the contests you're excited about winning, you're putting out those positive "universe-attracting" vibes, and you'll end up winning something you value instead of a Chia Pet or nose-hair trimmer.

Agent example: If you query everyone, you might "waste an offer" and end up with an agent you've never heard of before who, horror of horrors, uses a nose-hair trimmer while reviewing manuscripts or requests a reading fee. And that's not cool on any level.

Red stapler example: He focused and made sure those who took his stapler paid for it, big time.

4. Reverse the order. If you have a certain way of entering contests/finding your muse/eating chocolate-creme donuts, why not work your way at it from another angle? Or if you always enter daily contests/use crack cocaine/part your hair down the middle, why not try a different approach?

And finally...

5. Attract positive vibes. Flip through your happy file, binder, folder, wherever you keep your winning mementos/encouraging notes from others/pay stubs. I keep all my stuff in a folder labelled "HAPPY" that I look through every once in a while to remind myself that it can happen. Wins/agents/raises do come eventually. You just have to keep on entering/querying/working.

And if none of these work, then you'll just have to wrap tin foil around your head like the rest of us. ;)

Labels: fun, goals, writing

Things just seemed so much easier when I had my Inner Critic to blame. New recipe killed off dinner guests? Pin it on him. Couldn't reach my daily word count? It's his fault. In fact, my IC made life simple because he was the best scapegoat I ever had.

So when he retired last month, I really wasn't prepared for what would happen: it got real quiet.

At first, I didn't really notice with all the parades and hootenanny going on. Gotta love the clowns on tricycles. ;) But after the cake ran out and everyone went back to the regular party hangouts, I became aware of the IC's absence in odd ways.

First of all, I could write freely. No, seriously -- I'd just sit at the keyboard and words would pop out of my head and make it onto the page. Every once in a while I'd feel a twinge and brace myself, expecting to hear the Penguins of Panic (my IC's favourite tactic) taunting me from their ice cube tray, but they never appeared.

Then the silence started to get to me. I mean, there had to be something I was writing that could use a little critique...or total rewriting. Heck, I knew there was -- especially that one scene I wrote that had my main character talking to a shoe.

Ah, gotta love those decongestants. ;)

And I think that's when I finally started to miss him. That cranky, opinionated MENSA-wannabe who didn't know what "it's okay, let it go" meant. Le sigh.

Not that I want him back or anything. I'll make do somehow.

Friday night was incredible...even with the other 15,000 screaming fans there.

Seeing the Police was a celebration of sorts for me. The ticket purchase, at a price I never dreamed possible, was something I took so long in deciding upon that I totally missed out on the July show dates. And when the third show in November was scheduled, I still found myself hemming and hawing.

Then I spent a rainy Sunday afternoon listening to all five of their albums -- on my turntable -- and knew I had to see them one last time. One of my awesome contesting buddies alerted me to the pre-sale for the fourth-and-final November 9th show and I went for it.

If I had known then that the two gentlemen in front of me, who were in the first row of our section, would spend the entire evening STANDING UP, I might have gone for the more cost-effective nosebleed seats. Believe me, I was sorely tempted to whack them in the back of the head with my heavily-armed handbag, but the DH traded seats so I could see the large screens overhead and the back of the drunken girls who were blocking that particular view.

Perhaps it was better that Sting and I couldn't see each other. After all, many years have passed since we first fell in lurve. The 8" x 10" photo in my high school locker let the world know that we were in it for the long haul.

Heck, I even read the Ghost in the Machine by Arthur Koestler so that I could try to figure out what subliminal messages Sting was sending me on their fourth album. Yeah, I had it bad. And no, I didn't understand any of that mankind's-eventual-course-toward-self-destruction stuff.

Friday night at the stadium, dancing in my seat (a skill I mastered during my late teens so as not to upset patrons seated behind me when I'd crimp my hair), I transported back in time more years than I care to admit to a time when everything was so simple, yet complicated at the same time. The lyrics rolled off my tongue and I anticipated Steward Copeland's every beat and tried not to shudder when a spidery Andy Summers' riff sent shivers down my spine.

I was home; my inner 16-year-old and I were reunited once again. For two incredible hours Sting let me know that nothing had changed: we'd still be together 4ever, just like I had scrawled on my math text book.

And now I have the program and t-shirt to prove it. ;)

My funny bone broke earlier today. I think it was while I was balancing all those spinning plates and hoops of flame on my hands, head and left hip. I knew today would be a bad day to wear my grey tweed heels, but did I listen to that inner voice of doom? No...

But I didn't stop over here to whine while I struggle to get enough words on the page to feel somewhat accomplished before my head hits the pillow. Well, not really.

There's just this little something I forgot along the way: to enjoy being a writer.

Every day, I get to write. Sometimes it's even stuff that I want to write and sometimes it's stuff that people have asked me to write that I don't mind writing since they're paying me to do it. Where the ideas come from changes with each new project. Where they lead me to is what keeps me in this wordsmithing game.

Is that what writing really is, a game? Something to be played at or mastered or, in the worst of times, lost?

Determining a winning round can be problematic as some base success on financial stability or a book contract (they don't go hand in hand, or so I've heard) while others are satisfied with the work they do that no one is allowed to see. The rules are as different as the players who keep returning to the keyboard with muses at the ready or on the lam.

How do you see writing?

Labels: writing

When I saw this phrase on my Blogger posting page, I first thought it said "scheduled outrage."

Now that would be darn cool. Can't you just picture it...

10:45 a.m.

Stan: I need you on a conference call at 3:00 today.

Bonnie: Oh, sorry. Three's no good. I can do 4:30.

Stan: Nope, it's gotta be 3:00. Same rate as before: five million dollars.

Bonnie: Well, it's your nickel, but that's during my scheduled outrage.

Stan: Hah, hah, very funny, writer-girl.

2:58 p.m.

Bonnie: Hello?

Stan: Now we've got Bonnie on the line. Bonnie, meet Cynthia. Cynthia runs Taco Nacho, the new dance club that's opening in the spring of 2008. I suggested we do a little brainstorming over the phone to help us get started on figuring out her brand.

Cynthia: Hiya, Bon Bon.

Bonnie: THAT'S NOT MY FREAKING NAME, BIATCH!

Stan: Whoa, I think we've got a bad connection here.

Bonnie: TACO NACHO? YOU'RE KIDDING ME, RIGHT? ARE YOU GONNA SPRINKLE THE FLOOR WITH SHREDDED LETTUCE AND CHOPPED TOMATOES OR SOMETHING?

Stan: That's not a bad idea. You don't have to shout, we can hear you just fine.

Cynthia: Wow. You did say she's ahead of the curve...

Bonnie: I DON'T THINK EITHER OF YOU GET IT. I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS ABOUT YOUR CLUB OR YOUR BRAND. IT'S LAME. L-A-M-E.

Cynthia: Now there's a good name for a club.

Bonnie: WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? YOU WOULDN'T KNOW A GOOD IDEA UNLESS IT CAME ALONG WITH A TATTOO ARTIST AND STENCILED YOU IN.

Stan: Free tattoos opening night, perfect!

Cynthia: Yeah, thanks Bonnie. You got mad skills.

Labels: adventures, fun, ideas

It applies to everything really.

We wear 20% of our clothes 80% of the time or we watch 20% of our 80s teen angst films 80% of the time. And if I had just 20% of the money I spent on truly terrible fashion and hairstyle choices in the 80s, I'd be a rich woman today. ;)

So how does this rule measure up when it comes to your goal-attaining regimen? Do you spend the majority of your time thinking about achieving your goals or are you actively going after them?

With writing, it's easy to spend oodles of time investigating writing opportunities, researching markets, contemplating cool new ideas and, a trap I frequently fall into, revising stuff that's already done. Oh, and I better not forget about visiting other writer's blogs and checking out the forums and club websites. ;)

But how much time do we really spend doing what needs to be done in order to succeed? Sure, gathering information and sharing ideas and tales of woe with such a supportive community is great, but will it get us published?

One could argue that this form of networking is an essential part of the path to publication, and I do agree with that theory up to a point. Where I beg to differ is that commenting on blogs can't be your only avenue of promoting your work. You need to query.

There I go, mentioning the Q-word on a Monday. But I really must. It's our only way of letting the universe know that we're officially seeking publication. Despite the rumors, I have it on good authority that agents and editors do not drop out of the sky onto writer's doorsteps, asking to see manuscripts.

If only it were that easy. ;)

It's like participating in the Pillsbury Bake-Off without leaving your kitchen. If the judges can't sample your entry, how can you expect to win? And what on earth are you going to do with all those raspberry/chocolate cupcakes? (Call me!)

There are oodles of reasons why you're not going after what you want; believe me, I've used most of them. But if you don't try, you really shouldn't whine about not getting to where you want to be. You can, however, whine about how you're standing in the path of your own success. ;)

So take 20 minutes and give the one goal you want to achieve at least 80% of your efforts. Who knows what you might be able to create? For me, it resulted in a reworked query letter that reads better--and will hopefully get the results I'm hankering for.

What are you waiting for? Get to work!

Labels: goals, writing

moarfunny pictures

For those of you participating in Nano, may all of your days be filled with at least 1,500 words. To those not participating, please don't hate us for being a little more uncommunicative than usual. ;)

While I'm not "officially" participating (the forums and word wars are much too tempting for this writer to lose herself in), I am still aiming to get 50,000 words added to my current WIP by November 30. And, now that I've revised it to a young adult novel, I'll end up with a completed first draft if I play my cards right.

Then again, I never did too well in cards. Well, except for Euchre. ;)

This has been an incredibly biz-ay week for me with the completion of a bunch of articles, copywriting work and other heinous business-oriented activities that I really shouldn't avoid -- like following up on billings and filing the masses of stuff piled on my desk.

We also have a photo of a conscious Zaphod. Good times!


Seriously though, this is the time to buckle in, down or whatever and really push to get some goals taken care of. Well, at least the ones that are in your control anyway. During the So You Think You Can Dance tour show last night, I couldn't help but think that none of those dancers would be on the stage unless they did two things:

1. Practice
2. Audition

And, as Michelle says about America's Next Top Model, writers can also learn a thing or two from So You Think You Can Dance. You don't make it to the top twenty without sweat. You won't catch a judge's attention without taking a risk. Sure, you'll pull some muscles (Ow! My brain!), but you'll also learn how to improve your technique so that you won't injure yourself as badly next time.

Even more important, these dancers stepped out of their comfort zone and explored new styles. That's akin to someone well versed in dialogue (the pun is intentional people) taking the steps necessary to strengthen their ability to create effective narration or description.

So now, I will wear a dance outfit while writing for inspiration. Or not.

It's too bad that Michelle doesn't think that making Thierry (her Brontean vampire hero) a secret ballroom dancer is a uber-cool idea. The dance-off at the climax of the book would have been awesome, I'm sure. ;)

Back to the barre...

Labels: fun, kitten, skills, writing