I've got the music in me

When I was in high school, I used to listen to loud music while I did my homework. Usually metal of some kind, probably most often Guns N Roses.

This infuriated my mother. Most times she would come in and tell me to turn it off, that I wasn't concentrating. Other times I would wear my Walkman and when she called for me, I couldn't hear her. That didn't go over well either.

But, though Mom didn't believe me, I will tell you, dear readers, that music does indeed help me focus. I remember my stepmom telling me that a teacher once gave my nephew a one-legged chair because focusing on that helped him in class. I think that's the reasoning behind my love of music while I work. My head is always two places at once and if I hear the music (at a lower volume now) I strain ever so slightly to hear it over other ambient noise. That noise can be as simple as the click of the keyboard as a type or as annoying as a trash truck outside the open window of my office.

My cousin gave me a couple of CDs recently and while I was working on my most recent deadline I listened to them (I usually listen to an independent radio station, but I really wanted to check out these albums).

So I'm listening to the Across the Universe soundtrack and I notice that I actually stop typing between songs. All of a sudden I'm blank, like one of those toys that stop when someone walks out of its path. I also lose my vocabulary (typing) and make more typos. Am I completely insane?

I would go on, but I have to go put in another CD.

Feast or Famine

Now I'm in a writing feast:
Personal essay in The Ultimate Cat Lover book.
Finalist in the Deadly Ink short story contest which means the story will be in their yearly anthology.
Article and picture in Haunted Times magazine later this year and the go-ahead to do more articles.

But I wrote for a year to get the above credits - that was the famine period.

Writers can't sit on their credits and expect publishers, magazine editors, agents to come to them. Two minutes after getting the email that I would be in Haunted Times, I answered the editor with ideas for more articles. And I got the go-ahead reply.

You can write "the end" to a story, an article, a novel. But a writer is never at the end.

I will keep on writing and submitting because I want to keep on feasting.

The Block, that one for the writers

OK, the last two weeks I've been running, running, running. Wow, I've been so crazy that I didn't even realize that this second week is only half done.

Anywho, I have to send in two feature stories to a bridal magazine this week. It was one of those things where the editor said, "Here are the stories we need and you've got first crack." Of course I'm thinking, "Well, that deadline is super far away, I can do two! I can work on one during the first half and then the second the second half before the deadline!"

He writes back, calls me a "rockstar" and I proceed to do anything and everything but the story. I worked on interviews for two weeks (the two weeks before now, that is) and then I'm writing them now. Due Thursday.

I just couldn't get motivated before I had the deadline breathing down my neck. Although, I am getting better. I plan to finish the writing today so I can reread them before I send them in tomorrow.

No, seriously, that's good for me.

I have to admit, however, that I've become crazy about word counts. I see the necessary number of words as my finish line. I keep track with my little word count button in Microsoft Word and monitor it closely.

I know it takes the romance out of writing and I do still love writing -- I'm just not a person who writes long. I'm a short and sweet gal. I blame it on the 10-inch Gannett ceiling. I once did an enterprise piece on domestic violence and had a victim who was willing to talk about it. The mainbar was 13 inches. The photo illustration was bigger than the story.

So, that being my first job out of college, I was trained to write short and it's plagued my life ever since.

Now I've got one story done (at the prescribed number of words), but I'm just cracking open the second. Um, that is after I finish this blog entry. Honest. I promise.

Good Writing News

There's a good chance I'll have an essay in The Ultimate Cat Lover's Book that will be out in November.

Today I heard that my short story, "Deadly Inked", is a finalist in the Deadly Ink short story contest. As a finalist it will appear in their anthology.

Looking for the Trifecta: My erotic short story for Ellora's Cave is still being considered.

Keeping positive.

Nurses Week

Why talk about Nurses Week on a writers blog?
I'm a nurse, an RN - never wanted to be one - almost everyone is tired of hearing that, I guess.
But I didn't. I wanted to "BE" a writer. Back then I didn't realize I already WAS one.

So I have 55 college credits that can go straight to a BSN. I've done some research and made some calls this week. At 60, do I want to "waste" time getting a degree in a profession I don't want and can't wait to get out of? The answer is a great big "NO"! Why waste the little time I have left. So, I have 55 credits... really so what?

I'm an RN because that pays the bills.
I'm a writer because that's who I am.

A book by any other name...

...is still the same. An agent said I should change the title of my book, Heartbroken in Hoboken. An editor said it reminded her too much of such titles as Maid in Manhattan, Sleepless in Seattle--you get the point. Too vague, said the agent. But keep Hoboken in the title, she added.

Good thing--I love Hoboken--the town is multifaceted and vibrant, a small city in the shadow of New York City, the birthplace of baseball, Sinatra--and the zipper.

Hoboken is an important character in my story and it deserves to stay in the title!

Oopsy, I have no clever title

Sorry, now I've been slacking.

I had a minor meltdown earlier this week, offering to get a job at Starbucks in order to keep us out of the poor house. I'm terrified that I will be the one to bring down my husband along with myself in this dream of being able to have a family and have a comfortable life. Well, not comfortable. I don't know that we'll ever have an inground pool, but one of those plastic ones that you have to replace every year because they get cracked by the end of the summer would be nice.

It seems the day after I got two checks in the mail. And some more work from the PR company I've been freelancing for. And the offer of eight to 10 hours every week from her.

Today I scored an online weekly food column.

Sometimes I need to just breathe and trust myself. I write, that's what I do. The rest will work itself out. I have to trust that, too.