Everybody Needs A Little Romance

You know something? Life’s just unfair.

It is. Bad people get away with things. Good people get pink slips and cancer. And everyone in between gets the shaft at one time or the other. It’s just life, I suppose. Has been happening since the beginning of time. Or at least since Eve and Adam bit into the forbidden fruit.

Life just ain’t fair.

But sometimes it’s hard to accept, sometimes it’s hard to defend. Take my son. He’s ten and last week nominations went out for Louisiana student of the year. He was so sure he’d be nominated. He has terrific grades, is in gifted and talented, student council, football team, peer helper and advanced in every category of the state test. But he didn’t. He was so devastated. I was at a loss (because honestly, I thought he would be nominated too). How do you explain it?

You can’t. I told him the only thing I c ould tell him – “I’m sorry and sometimes life sucks.” But it was so hard to watch him cry. To see him hurt over something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. My heart just crumbled. But, he got over it. He’s a good kid. I told him he can’t peak in elementary school anyway. He’s got to peak in high school where it matters a bit more

And take my LSU Tigers. Now I know I wear the purple and gold glasses, but I am fairly certain that even if I take them off, the Tigers got the shaft this past weekend. Even my Arkansas girl, Cyndi, would agree with me on that even though she wears Hog glasses. Bad calls and non calls not even overturned on absolute, positive video evidence! I was left shaking my head and dreaming up conspiracy theories But, know what? Life’s not fair. Get over it.

The same applies to our writing. There will be times people you know get the call and you think to yourself, “Really?” You can’t believe it. You’ve read her stuff. Yours is so much better. But, guess, what? Yep. Life’s not fair.

So what do we do when life sucker punches  us in the gut and then laughs in our face? Whine? Well, heck everyone’s got to do a little of it. Get angry? Sure, it can make you more determined. Cry? Good for the soul…cleansing and all that. Tequila? Yep, it can certainly help you forget the pain…and your keys….and your panties.

But you can only do those things for a five, maybe ten,  minute period. Because after that, you’ve got to get over yourself. I always say you can’t control what happens to you in life. You can only control how you react to what happens to you.

So, what’s your best remedy for getting over life being unfair? Share with me. Please. It’s Wednesday and I need some feedback to help me when I face the next round of “why me?”

I’ve been going to see a lot of movies since I have been with my boyfriend.  We love horror and comedy movies.  Every now and then, we will see a different kind.  Like a couple of weeks ago, we went to see Law Abiding Citizen.  I would never watch a movie like that until I got with him.  It was a very great movie.  The criminal, who was in jail, was VERY smart.

On Halloween day, we went to see Paranormal Activity.  I liked it, but he didn’t.  I really didn’t like how it ended, but it was scary.  They made it seem like it was a true story. 

This weekend, we are going to see The Fourth Kind and 2012.  I am not too excited to see 2012 because I think the whole world gets killed in that movie.  I like a good horror movie with survivors in the end.  The previews to The Fourth Kind looks scary.  I love a good scary movie that will make you jump. 

There are also good comedies out there.   One we saw in the theatre was awesome!  The Hangover.  I loved it! 

What good or bad movies have you seen lately?

First—Congratulations to Jane! You’ve won last week’s prize week!

*pretends you knocked on my door* “Trick-or-Treat!”

Jane, you’ve won some fantabulous candy and a book! (I hesitate to say which one, because I have a few in mind, but wal-mart can be really weird with their stocking sometimes. I want to make sure I can get it before I commit) Send me your snail mail address :

Keriford @ hotmail.com (no spaces)

On to the blog today which is terribly late, I know. What can I say, me mind, it is lacking in the memory sometimes (say that sentence again, but say it with a fun accent. That’s how I imagined it when I wrote it).

So. The H word.

You see, it went like this. I mentioned to the husband that now that he was back to working four days a week (overtime is finally over!), I’d like to take two times a week and disappear to the computer room to get some writing work done. Really, I didn’t think this was unreasonable cause he would be off three days a week and one of those days he usually takes the kid and visits his mother (I usually stay home during this time to write and breath nice, quiet air). So really, I was only asking for ONE other time a week. ONE, yo.

His first response is, well, we won’t get into that because it caused a whole other argument and I don’t want to ramble here for six pages. BUT, here’s the point, back to the H word.

He says, (paraphrasing) “It’s gonna suck when you sell and start making money for your writing.”

You can see me sitting there on the couch wondering what in the mother load prompted that idea. I mean really, there would be extra income! Um—HELLO, knock, knock on the forehead, anybody in there? Then the thought ran through that deadlines and contracts meant extra writing time that I’d have to put in. And yeah, I could see where that’d suck for him because there would be times when I’d be taking more than two times a week to disappear to the computer room, I’m sure.

But no, that wasn’t what he meant at all. The knuckle down bottom of this statement came in his next statement:

(again with the paraphrasing. It’s been a couple nights and me temper, it messes with me memory—don’t forget the accent!) “You’ll be getting to be doing what you love and getting paid for it and I’m not.”

At this moment, picture my heart breaking. Because yeah, that would suck. But then I had a second thought that ran through there. WAIT JUST A COTTON PICKIN’ MINUTE… “But you love welding.”

You can’t imagine how many times he’s mentioned loving this and more—LOVING the people he works with. Him and the guys he works with are complete and utter best friends. They do stuff on the weekends together and talk on the phone. He loves his job. Of this, I am sure.

He makes this hand gesture and nose squishes up saying otherwise, (do I have to repeat it? Just assume the rest of this is paraphrased) “But it’s not what I want to do.”

Me, and I swear, I stayed so positive even though everything I thought I knew about my husband’s happiness was totally being shattered and leaving me to also wonder, why didn’t he say anything before? “What do you want to do then?”

He shrugs. “There’s nothing else to do here.”

“Do you want to move somewhere else?” (I swear to you, that popped right out. I think I deserve a supportive wife of the year award because yeah, I would absolutely pack up and move if he wanted to go somewhere else for some other kind of work.)

But he says…. “No.”

“I don’t understand. What do you want to do then? I know you don’t want to wear a business suit every day.”

He makes a face like he just got a little mini-throwup in his mouth proving that. “It’s just, you’ll be getting paid for doing your hobby.”

Oh, yes, he called my writing the H word. The GOVERNMENT doesn’t even label my writing as the H word. I NEVER have. The first day I said I’d write a story I thought, I’ll write a story and publish it and be rich and famous. ….yeah, don’t spoil the dream people. The point is that this has never been a hobby. And that completely rocked my world because he’s always been so supportive and then he goes and says this is a hobby.

He sputters around for a few minutes after I keep pressuring him to come up with something (remember the temper!). He gets this self-satisfied, smug look on his face and says, “Maybe I want to do a deer hunter show.”

Yeah, you get after that. Don’t think I’m gonna sit in the cold with you and whisper in the camera.  My husband is as shy as they come when it comes to talking to strangers, yet his long wanted dream is to be on a TV show, talking into the camera to—boat loads of strangers. Still not sure what brought all this on and can’t help but wondering if he’s having a “I’m the man and am supposed to bring home all the bacon” complex.

What’s your hobby? And if you’re wondering, I do have hobbies. They have nothing to do with writing. They are: baking, charcoaling and creating 3-D cakes.

I write from the strange territory of NaNo-land.

Those of us obsessed souls who donate our Novembers to writing madness all have our own reasons.  I’m not sure mine would make sense to anyone entirely sane.  But this is what I am learning:

1.  I can write faster than I ever thought I could.  Because my month will stop a week before everyone else’s (we’re going off to Boston for a family Thanksgiving celebration, and since we’ll all be together, which is something you can’t take for granted, my unfettered writing time stops on Tuesday, 11/24, the day of our departure), I’ve been determined to get 3500 words written every day.  I would have thought this was impossible, but I discover if I sit down and just keep hammering away, it happens.

2.  I am getting alarmingly efficient about the rest of my life.  When you know you have this 10 minute slot to tidy up the kitchen, you don’t get distracted as easily and don’t get lured by an apple (or more likely a cookie) and sit down to consume it while you think.  Nor do you pick up the newspaper and start reading just one article.

3.  Writing almost without revising is remarkably emancipating.  The insane man who thought up NaNoWriMo, a guy in the San Francisco Bay area by the name of Chris Baty, urges us not to delete.  Just keep on pressing forward.  Well, I’m not deleting much, but particularly in that delicate time at the beginning of each marathon session when I’m picking up the thread I abandoned when I hit my target the day before, I find myself fiddling with using a better word here, or cutting out what’s clearly extraneous there, and blast, there go seven words.  Well, so I have 14,086 of them as of this evening’s update  – I guess I can lose seven without lethal consequences.

4.  I am forgetting the concept of free time.  Every minute is now accounted for.  I’m doing the household essentials, I’m teaching/preparing for/correcting papers for the two classes I teach, I’m actually falling into my bed, or I’m WRITING.  Most of the time I’m writing.

5.  It’s odd.  When I finish my stint — and believe me, I’m keeping close track of the computer count at the bottom of my screen — I feel almost drunk as I rise and wheel away from my desk.  Drunk on words.  Words, words, delicious words that spill out of my mind onto the page.  Thinking about the odd sensation made me remember something Virginia Woolf wrote in her diary as she came to the end of her novel The Waves. I just went to find the book  to make sure I was remembering it right, and this is what I found:  ”I wrote the words O Death fifteen minutes ago, having reeled across the last ten pages with some moments of such intensity and intoxication that I seemed only to stumble after my own voice, or almost, after some sort of speaker (as when I was mad).”  I read that many years ago — I checked the copyright on the book, and it’s 1972! — and it strikes me as absolutely amazing that I should be having now even a vague shadow of that experience.

It fascinates me.  Here we are, writers together sharing our common passion, and yet writing is generally the most solitary of occupations.  What do you think about when you write?  What do you feel when you lift your hands from the keyboard — or the notebook — and revisit the rest of your life?  How does your writing change you?

(DISCLAIMER: For those of you who have gone through something as traumatic as cancer, I realize you didn’t wish such a thing on you or your loved ones. I am so not saying that at all. And really this might be a terrible example to go by just to prove my point, but it was a concrete example of negative thinking bringing negative results.)

I once had a friend (we’ll call her Mary) and she worried all the time about her health. She expected to get sick (and did) every time something went around the school where we taught together. She watched everything she ate. Only ate organic. Wouldn’t put her food in the microwave or even in plastic containers lest the chemicals leak into her food. She used raw suger and watched every preservative in every food. She told us  about every new study – what caused cancer, helped prevent cancer and would help you fight cancer. 

Last year Mary died of breast cancer at the age of 42.

So horrible and very sad because she was my friend. I know what you are thinking….HEY! This is supposed to be about the power of positive stuff in our life. Not f riends dying of cancer! Well, it is. Sorta.

You see, I thought about Mary and how she viewed her health. She focused on it way too much. She read about it. Talked about it. Expected it. She lent so much of her thought process towards cancer, that eventually she got it. Okay, I am a rational person. I don’t think Mary wished terminal cancer upon herself. But she certainly didn’t help herself by expecting to get it, by putting so much thought and energy in cancer.

So it made me think about Mary’s mindset. Or just a person’s mindset in general. What’s my mindset? What’s your mindset? Are you expecting the worst? Or the best?

You see, I’m going to be perfectly honest here. I knew I was going to sell a book. Just knew it. When my husband would say, “You may never sell a book,” I would say, “Sure I will.” Does that mean I’m prophetic? I wish. No, I just had set my mind on it. I knew I could do it. Didn’t know when or how, but I knew that I would. It was my mindset.

I went over and over the reasons why I would sell my book. I am young (mostly ), I have talent (IMO) and I would not give up. I would go to conferences and network, pitch to editors and agents, enter contests, and get a critique partner. I would focus on my RWA chapter, run for an office. Help other writers when I could. And I would wait as long as I had to. If an editor told me my time would be better spent flying a kite,  I would say, “Sure. After I sell this book.”  If I stacked up three hundred rejection letters, I would say,”Need some kindling to start the fire, honey?” If random people asked “Have you sold your book?” I would say “Not yet.”

My mind was set. I would sell. Period.

I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe in believing in yourself. I stuck to this motto – “If you can form it in your mind, you can create it in your life.” I told myself that time and again. Over and over. Until one day it happened.

So I encourage you to believe in yourself whether it pertains to your writing or your life in general. Put your focus towards being positive. Ignore the people who aren’t. I give you license to wear rose-colored glasses (or whatever color you prefer) and to think quite honestly that your writing is good. Heck, it’s great.

Expect to final. Expect to win. Expect the call.

Because there is nothing good about thinking the worst.

So tell me, how are you going to be more positive?

Halloween is a time for candy, haunted houses, costume parties with friends, and fun.  I celebrated my Halloween a little early this year.   I REALLY wanted to go to a haunted house, but my friends invited me to their costume party last night.   We had a blast!

I have been to a haunted house and a haunted forest.  I went to the haunted house when I was a kid, and I think I was a little too young for that kind of stuff then.  It almost scared me to death!  Especially when I saw what looked like a dead body in a tub of blood-eww!

I went with my dad to a haunted forest when I was a teenager, and the only part that really scared me was the snakes on the ground.  I literally jumped on my dad’s back and made him carry me through it!  My uncle was in the haunted forest, and he chased us out of there with a chainsaw.  I knew it was him, and that didn’t scare me. 

My friends threw a costume party last night, and I went to it and had a great time.  I dressed up as a character in my book.  There was punch served, and everybody was dressed up in a costume.  There was one guy there who dressed up as Napolean Dynamite, and he acted like him too.  Gosh!   I love tater tots!  (That is what his shirt said.) LOL!

My best friend painted my face up to look like a dead woman.  I REALLY did look dead.   Everyone had a really great time, and I will be going to another Halloween party tonight.  Another costume party with a sweet tooth auction.  This Halloween is BIG for me this year!

What are you doing today for Halloween?  Got any plans?

It’s prize week on the blog! Leave a comment all week to be entered to win our super Halloween prize! hint…hint…look for candy! It’s is trick-o-treating season after all!

I’m going to cut right in the thick of it. The Candy. That’s right. The Candy. That is what we trick-or-treated for as kids and that is why we dress our kids up in costumes. Free Candy.

Dots. You cannot go wrong with Dots for this girl. Love me some Dots. Wanted to buy some to give out this year, but husband is not a Dots fan and I didn’t want to be eating all the leftovers alone.

Chocolate. Chocolate is good whether it comes wrapped around a Snicker bar or a foil wrapped Kiss.

Starbursts and Skittles. Yummy, yum yum.

You would think it’s pretty easy to get the candy part right, but sadly, so many screw it up.

That taffy whatever in the orange and black wrappers? No, just freaking do not even go there. Think about it. You’re a kid (or the parent of one) and you’ve got this big ‘ol bowl of candy. Do you reach in for the Milky Way or the something wrapped up in orange/black paper?

Other wrongs? Homemade items such as popcorn balls. Seriously folks. Stop. Just stop it. I’ve never eaten these though I was treated with them often. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what your kitchen looks like and neither does the FDA [I am a dork] Health Department. And yes, if you’re wondering, this was a concern of mine as a kid fresh off the Free Candy Train Express.

The healthy options. Don’t be handing out apples, ya hear? I do not want to see an apple thumped in the bottom of my son’s candy basket. Um…hello! I’ve got three words for you. Thin skinned fruit. One minute you’ve got a good stash of candy, and the next it’s all rotten apple smell. I think we all know every kid does the, swing the bucked around and the candy magically stays in the bucket. And well, there’s the possiblity of tampering. Yes, I know my apples can be tampered with at the store just as easy. And so can those mini Reese Cups–but here’s the deal, it’s a Snow White complex. So no apples.

Toothbrushes. Strangely enough, I’m okay with this treating, but it’s in the no list because I don’t want more than one. And to be honest, I’m not going to brush with your cheap toothbrush when mine at home is battery operated.

What’s on your buy or don’t go there list of candy?

Keri Ford