Ready Or Not (Because You’re Never Truly Ready) – One Manuscript’s Journey

Writing is patience, writing is patience. Damn, I am not a patient person. I mean I can be, but it takes a great deal of energy and focus on my part. The only time it is natural is when I am working with kids, teaching something or being a caregiver to someone. Otherwise, I am a redhead, Irish and just don’t like to sit around and wait. I like efficiency. I am the person who gets things done and I am used to being the exception, in the ‘I make my own life happen’ kind of way.

I know that publishing is a process. Boy, do I know. What I didn’t realize, however, is that when I should begin that long drawn out process would be put into question by every piece of literature, bit of research and advice that I receive from others who know the game. I am getting ready to contact agents, researching them and what they want and reading and otherwise immersing myself in the art of query writing. Dear Lord…

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Learning To Embrace My Outer Red

My identity is made up of many parts (isn’t everybody’s) and I like to think that I am more or less all right with all of those parts, but I didn’t used to be. I’m Irish, a writer and an oldest child. These parts I have always been fine with. Before I was finished with high school I realized that I was an activist (INFJ to the very core), liberal and a Buffy fanatic (the best television show of all time – period). One of the things that I am most proud of today was something I always tried to hide growing up. I know this may shock you with the title of my blog, pictures, and my bio page, but I am also a redhead. I am darn proud of that fact and yet for the first twenty years of my life, I was anything but.

When I was in growing up I kept my hair short. Technically, I didn’t have much choice in the matter because my parents demanded it, but I could have put up a fight if I disagreed strongly, and I didn’t. My hair was curly and in the fourth grade a few boys teased me, “Do you use a curling iron on your hair in the morning?” Sure it was a weak insult, but to me that is exactly what it was. (To be honest the fourth grade was bad enough – divorce, moving several times, a new school that I hated and that was the tip of the iceberg – it was a defining year to say the least.)

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Why You Cannot Afford To Be Your Manuscript’s Single Parent

I avoid editing my own work like I would a Tea Party convention. Well let me clarify, I edit my own work, but before I send it out, submit it, publish it or consider it otherwise finished I always need someone else to look at it (though that does not mean I always find someone). I am a big believer in the writing process and believe that any writer who is a professional or ‘serious writer’ is just as serious about revision as they are about writing something in the first place.

Everything that I write (and that matters to me) is my baby. Writing a piece is the creation, conception and birth of that baby. Revision is raising what you have given birth to (sorry apparently I have had kids on the brain lately). You need to be a part of the revision process and lead your piece down the right path (or let it lead you) until its full potential is realized.

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Please Spare Me My 38th Brain Surgery

The other day I was holding my laptop, on my way to our dining room for some privacy, so that I could get in my writing zone. (I either need to be alone or be able to shut the world out so that in my own way I am alone, when I write.) I don’t know what happened. I was tired from the night before and I do have my klutzy moments, but the next thing I knew, I nearly dropped my laptop. In my quick and successful attempt to catch it, the corner hit me on the right side of my head. It didn’t strike me extremely hard, for most people it would probably have felt like someone patted them on the head too hard, but for me it is different.

I have a VP cerebral shunt on my right side and the computer struck my shunt bubble. I was in agony, but knew it would pass in a few hours and it did. My husband asked me what it felt like, and I told him to think about the time he broke his wrist as a child. Envision that it is not casted, but simply in a brace and then bring a hammer down as hard as you can to the most sensitive part of that fracture. He winced, which meant he understood.

VP Shunt

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About A Giraffe

Marius the giraffe

I debated on writing anything about Marius the giraffe and the Copenhagen Zoo incident. It happened a week before I even started this blog, and it seemed at the time that everyone had something to say about the subject. And yet, my Facebook feed continues to have blips of Marius and different opinions on what happened.

To be clear, I stand in the camp of people who are horrified by what happened. But I am not condemning all of Denmark, nor do I agree with people sending zoo officials death threats. I am not an animal rights activist. I am not a vegetarian. I grew up in the Midwest so I am familiar with farms and hunting, even though I did not grow up on a farm and I will never hunt anything (though many people in my family hunt deer during the official season).

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