Yap, Yap, Yap

Yesterday I planned to get up, look for a job, and then do some writing. But, after searching for a job for hours, I lost every ounce of creative energy I had. Reading job description after job description turns one's mind to mush. For the job descriptions that are the size of a novel, I wish I could get revenge and send them a book for a resume and force them to read it. I can read fairly quickly because I read a lot, but one can only do so much with a job description whose equivalent in length is the Obama Health Care plan.  I can understand the compulsion to ramble on (after all I do that), but there is a time and place for it and a job description probably isn't one of them and neither is health care. What would it be like to work for somebody who can't shut up anyway? That's a thought I'd rather not think about. You'd be under the gun to get the work done with someone yapping in your ear all day, and then, fired, because you couldn't get your work done. Perhaps it's better to do the job search every other day and write on the days off. Thankfully, today will be a writing day.

Still Hoping and Praying

I'm averaging 2 to 3 pages a day. Not good, but I do have 61 pages. I don't know how to make this go any faster. I suppose if I stayed away from everything the Internet has to offer, like blogging, things would go a little faster. It's tough to stay focused sometimes, but I'm not giving up.  Just like I haven't given up looking for a new job. I can be stubborn that way. I know there is something out there for me.

I just learned of yet another friend who lost her job. It's gruesome out there. We need some relief in this country, yet I don't see anything improving any time soon. My prayers are with all those in desperate need of a job.

My Official Pledge

I'm finding that having a blog is a great way to make one do what they say they will do. I'm not sure I would have added 5 more pages to my story if I hadn't posted my intentions first. Although, I have to admit, I have been finding all kinds of distractions and the page count could be longer. It's hard to stay away from chatting with my buddies online, checking facebook for what's new, and just randomly searching the internet for absolutely nothing. Although, in the end, I did happen to find two more jobs to apply to. My fingers are crossed. Tomorrow, I pledge 5 more pages to be written. Let's see if that works.

Baby Steps

I'm finished!!! Done, done, done. I can hardly believe I managed to get through 50 pages of changing she, her, and Ruth (that was my fictitious name) into me, my and I. Whew, I'm so glad that's over. Now, it's back on the long road to story completion. The only problem is, I have fifty pages and I've only covered one year out of the fifteen years I want to cover. It's not that I wasn't doing anything for all the other years of my life (no, I won't tell you how many years that is), but these particular years were very significant. If the math holds, that will make the book about 750 pages long.  Who in the world would want to read a 750 page memoir? I'm not even sure I have the patients to write it. I need a good editor!

I think the coast is clear. I may be able to start writing a different story without my husband getting too bent out of shape, so whenever I need a break, I will definitely be giving it a try . Unfortunately, I'll need to come up with some story ideas of my own. It was easier working 40 hours a week.

Identity Crisis

I am terrible about organizing my time. Or, should I say, others are terrible about organizing my time. It seems that whenever I want to sit down to write, others have alternative plans for me. Uncles have medical emergencies and I have to travel over 200 miles to go help out, or kids get hungry and I have to spend all day shopping. Anyway, that explains where I've been for the past few days. Now that I have my chance, all I want to do is go to the beach, read, and decompress. I'm finding it a struggle to discover the proper direction to go in life. If finding a job doesn't seem to be something that is going to happen any time soon, perhaps the Lord has other plans for me. It's difficult to know if writing is what He really wants me to do. I mean, why else would He give me a passion for it? I believe He gives us talents so that we may use them to his glory, whether it be the ability to love others well and simply shine his light for others we work with, or to write and glorify his name in that way, or to travel to third world countries and feed the poor. But, then again, I have a bad habit of comparing myself to others, questioning my ability, and wondering if I really have a talent for it at all. Maybe I should start reading more contemporary works. I really can't expect to write like Dumas, Kipling, or Tolstoy, nor would many of today's readers want to read it if I could. Now that I've got all my whining out of the way, I'll just remind myself that the Lord knew what he was doing when he made me the way I am, and there's no other like me. He already has a Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and he doesn't need any more of them. Therefore, I will continue the tedious work of changing my work to first person so I can get back to telling my own unique story.

Procrastination or Self Torture?

I'm still going through and changing things to first person. It's taking forever, because as I read it over, I can hardly believe I wrote some of this stuff. IT'S AWEFUL!!! What was I thinking? So of course I have to change it all, or just cut it out. However, one must be careful of cutting things out willy-nilly that are referenced in some other part of the story, and only God knows where in the world that is. I told you this was a headache. Oh, and there's also the fictitious names I came up with to protect the identities of the people in my life. A lot of them have special meanings, but some of them are kind of out there. Like, I'm sure my dad is not going to appreciate being called Claude! (No, really, that's what I named him.) And, then there's my poor mother whose name is Tacey. It means, "Be silent." (I hope she doesn't get the wrong idea.) It's not that I want her to be silent (then again, I may have when I was a kid), but I named her that because she is such a quiet person. Unfortunately, to me it sounds like a little booger eating, pigtail wearing six-year-old. Maybe I'll just ask them if they mind me using their real names.

Little Writing Snafu's

I made a minor mistake and asked my husband if he had any story ideas. He's so sweet in trying to help me, but I briefly forgot how his mind works, and now I regret it. He does have some terrific story ideas, but I prefer to leave fantasy fiction to authors like Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. (Yes, I know they're dead.) I love to read them, but it's just not the kind of genre I like to write in. I prefer to live in the real world, or something very similar to it. Frankly, I've never tried writing fiction of any sort. I've always found real life to be much more amusing, interesting, and dramatic. For example, why does my cat meow every time I sneeze? Is she saying, "Bless you," or "Shut up! I'm trying to sleep over here"? Anyhow, not wanting to hurt my husband's feelings and blatantly not writing about his ideas, it's given me more motivation to give my memoirs a more concerted effort until the heat dies down. Perhaps it's a sign.

Spinning My Wheels

I got up this morning like a good, little, writing soldier, powered up the computer, and continued with the work of changing my memoirs from third to first person. I got sick of it after the first three pages and busied myself with facebook and email. There is no better way to waste time. Then, I proceeded to try a new story. My mind was empty, empty as my bank account. That's pretty empty. So, I tried some free writing with not a tittle of good material to go on. I think I'm trying too hard. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow after church. Perhaps the pastor’s sermon will give me a few, good ideas or the Good Lord will.

Don't fight with yourself. It's a losing battle.

I've come the conclusion that I will do both. When I get sick of fixing my memoirs, I'll write something else. Getting a handle on this beast will be a challenge. For example, I have fixed and re-fixed the following introductory paragraph so many times I can't see it straight anymore:

“Hi Lora, you can call me Delilah if you like,” said the smiling doctor searching my face for clues. I squirmed uncomfortably wondering what was really behind that big, phony smile. The doctor was sort of young and pretty. She wore a navy- blue blazer with a short pencil skirt, overgrown shoulder pads, rolled-up sleeves, big hair, and her make-up was overdone. It was 1986. Her book-worm glasses precariously clung to the tip of her nose as she looked up from her chart at us. In a final, desperate attempt to help me, my mother had dragged me to a shrink.

So, I've made a pledge to myself that I will not look at it anymore. And, the same goes for the first twenty pages...I think. It's hard to restrain myself. I'll just take baby steps and vow to refrain from the first five paragraphs. I think I can do that.

So, What Now?

I've been writing my memoirs for the past six years, well, because I haven't been working very hard at it. So it's just a jumbled mess of about fifty pages. And, frankly, there was no hurry. I mean, who was going to read it anyway? There are many problems with it. Half of it is in first person and the other half in third person. Originally, I wrote it as fiction, not wanting anyone to know it was really about me, just in case I should try and publish it, because, honestly, my life has been filled with some pretty unbelievable, horrific events. Then, as I wrote I realized that this fictional story probably wasn't interesting, on account of people thinking that it was too crazy to be believed. I also thought that, perhaps, if I wrote it as a memoir maybe others would gain inspiration from it. Not that I'm all that or anything, but I did manage to live when I shouldn't have. Another problem is, as I have added little by little to it over time, my writing style has changed. So before I've even seriously started, I'm already worn out from it. Maybe I should just warm up and polish up some of my short stories or create some new ones. I'm still deciding...

Getting laid-off a blessing?

So, I was laid-off several months ago, like almost everyone else I know. And, here I was thinking I was doing a great job (my boss even said so), and wham, the company had to downsize due to inadequate funds. I loved my job, even though I was getting a little complacent. One can write only so many statistical reports and crunch so many numbers before getting mind numbingly bored. This could be a really good thing. I'm just going to trust in God that it is a good thing and see where He takes me.