40 goals: revisited.

I was reviewing, the other day, a list of 40 goals I set for myself in January that I was going to meet in 2015. We're about 2 months or so away from the end of 2015, and I thought maybe now would be a good time to start getting it all in. (This is how I do everything, by the way: wait until the last minute - I work on deadline. With EVERYTHING...laundry, returning phone calls, bills, grading papers, making dinner, getting ready for house guests, leaving to meet friends for dinner...EVERY. Thing.) 

Lands, Internet. Per my usual, I am behind. So I'm re-posting the entire list, with commentary about how that's worked out for me. (This is more for me than for you, by the way. I think it's about time I start getting my ass in gear and re-focusing. Meanwhile, you're welcome to be entertained by my tragic inability to consistently be all that I can be.) 

THE LIST

1. See (in a theater) 5 movies that do not involve cartoons, singing animals, or princesses of any kind. I have no idea how many movies I've seen in the theater. I know the last movie I saw was animated (Hotel Transylvania 2, wait for the DVD). I think I've seen 3 movies that are for grown ups. After work this week, I'm taking myself to see Crimson Peak, because Jessica Chastain and Victorian ghosts. So that'll be 4. I have two more months to get the last one in. I'm going to put this in the I (Almost!) Did It! category.

2. Write 1 book review, and try to take it seriously. Nope. But there's still time!

3. Write 1 movie review, and try to take it seriously.Nope. But there's still time!

4. Go back to the Margaret Mitchell House at least one time to hear a visiting author read/speak about whatever work s/he is hocking. (You do know that book tours are like press junkets for literary types?) (I used to go to the Margaret Mitchell House all the time, but then I had a kid. Margaret's house is no place for busy little kids.) Nope! And it's the Margaret Mitchell House's fault. I haven't seen an ad for one person I'd want to hear talk. So I'm putting this in the There's Still Time But It's Not My Fault category.

5. The original creator of this list idea said to read a book waaay outside your usual genre preference/s. I'll pretty much read anything, but you know what I never read? Erotica. So I'm going to read a book of Erotica. Just to say I've read one. Nope! But there's still time. I did try to read some erotica on the Internet. Internet erotica is crap, lowest common denominator crap. I would like to be a bit classier with my smut, I guess? I'm working on it. I think, right now, my plan is to write a short story or two and put them on amazon.com even though I think amazon.com is kind of diabolical. You have to start somewhere. With your classy smut.

6. I'm also going to watch one Horror movie. I'm not into Horror movies, but I'm going to see one just to say I did it. I hope I don't need Xanax after. Going to count Crimson Peak as my horror movie this week, and check this one off as DONE!

7. I'm going to write 1 short story and submit it somewhere legit. Nope! But there's still time. (Does self-submitting to amazon.com and wattpad.com count? If so, DONE!) 

8. I'm going to take a weekend away for myself, and do nothing but write. Nope. But there's still time! (If I can find the money.)

9. I'm going to start a writer website. Nope. This may go into the FAILED category. Websites cost money.

10. With a logo. See #9.

11. On May 2, 2015, I'm going to shop at one (or five) local, independent bookstores. Apparently, this is now a thing: National Bookstore Day. FAIL. I don't even remember May 2, 2015 getting here. Was there a May 2, 2015? I'm sure I was distracted and/or in tears, mourning my life.

12. I'm going to start trying to interacting with more bloggers--writers and non-writers. I think I did this. I think. Mostly? Somewhat. 

13. And I'm going to start trying to guest blog and host guest bloggers here. (Wanna write with me??) Nope. Maybe in 2016.

14. I'm going to interview at least one writer (famous or not) and put it up here for all the world (aka: my mom) to read. Nope. Maybe in 2016.

15. I will look into becoming a Huffington Post occasional blogger. Because why not? Nope. Maybe in 2016. (Really, I think my issue with this is that I could send them some of the entries from this blog, but this blog has devolved into little more than a whole bunch of whiny, theatrical navel-gazing. And so I feel like I need to either start a DIFFERENT blog, one in which really just focuses on one kind of topic and stays there...and ha, we all know how that'll go...or re-focus this blog, send HuffPo something then cross my fingers and pray like crazy anyone who clicks over here doesn't start snooping around to see what else I've been writing about.)

16. I will join some type of writers' association. HA! I don't have time to go mingle at writer's association meetings. I must have been on crack when I added this to the list.

17. I'm going to enter one (or more) piece/s of writing into a contest. Maybe in 2016.

18. I'm going to return public library books ON TIME (which means M and I will be scheduling regular library visits, which means I'll have to prioritize, which means...well, just don't hold your breath on #18, is what I'm saying.) DING DING DING!!! I did this! I have totally returned aaaallll of my public library books on time. But then again, I sort of didn't do this, because one reason I returned all the library books on time was because Miss M and I didn't really go to the public library this summer, so there were no library books to return.

19. I'm going to interact more with more published, established writers (famous and not so famous) on Twitter. Sorta kinda, yes. I made some new writer friends, so I'm counting it as a success.

20. This summer, I'm going to commit to a minimum of 500 words of writing per day. June-July. Every day. sigh. No, Internet. This was a FAIL. And it's the worst fail of all on this list. I had one job. ONE JOB. But I let extraneous bullshit derail me. Like ALL THE TIME. Crap.

21. I'm going to go on a writer's retreat. You know where I'd really like to go? THISplace--that place looks lusciously delicious. But it it doesn't work out, I'm cool just creating my own retreat in a mountain cabin somewhere. (Wanna come hang out with me at a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains? We can be solitary creatives during the day, writing and taking quiet walks and contemplating Story. And then congregate in the kitchen/living room each evening to have wild hot tub parties with grilled gourmet dinners and wine and beer. But you'll have to do all the grilling because I burn stuff.) No. I did not do this. This will be a 2016 goal. Because money.

22. I'm going to find a website that's content driven and apply to write for them (I know, I KNOW! I just wrote about what a snore bore content driven stuff is...but it's part of my building my published works scheme and there seems to be no way around it). Fail. But because I've changed my mind about this. I don't want to write content driven crap for advertisers and businesses on the Internet. Saying NO to The Man on this one.

23. I'm going to find an online writing community to join. Do they have these? I'm going to change my mind on this. If I can barely find time to write 500 words per day, I don't have time to hang out online talking about writing and not actually writing with other people who are talking about writing and not actually writing. 

24. And an offline community. See #16 and #23.

25. You know what I didn't do last year that I said I would? Last Spring, Jason Isaacs (Hello to Jason Isaacs!) tweeted about an organization called the Afghan Women's Writing Project (awwproject.org) that promotes rights of women to tell their stories. I meant to host a Living Room Fundraiser, but Life blew up and didn't do it. Going to rectify it. (Wanna come and hang out in my living room and celebrate freedom and literacy through storytelling?) Nope. But there's still time! AND! The AWW Project follows me on Twitter now. I really love them and what they do. Thank you, Jason Isaacs, for introducing me to their existence.

26. I'm going to randomly leave some books I loved reading in various locations, like coffee shops. Just to share my book love. Nope, because I totally forgot I said I'd do this. There's still time! 

27. I'm going to promote the crap out of other storytellers, in as many ways as I can. I think I successfully did this, when I wrote and wrote and wrote and researched and researched and researched the TV show DIG. If that's not promotion, I don't know what is. And I still do it on Twitter, whenever I find a storyteller I think really rocks it.

28. I'm going to take Miss M on a literary pilgrimage. I'm not sure where, but hopefully there will also be a beach involved. Money. Money is always going to be an issue with this. I may just have to take her to The Margaret Mitchell House and call it a day.

29. Apparently, Twitter has pitch fests. They're online pitch conferences where writers try to get people to buy their ideas so they can write them. I'm going to participate in one. If I can figure out how to do it, and when they take place. Nope. Because I have no idea (A) how to do it, (B) where these take place, or (C) any ideas.

30. I'm also going to participate in artsy-oriented twitups, which are like meetups but on Twitter. Nope. Because I have no idea when/where these twitups take place. But there's still time!

31. I'm going to travel somewhere outside the U.S.A. I've just decided to do it. And it may not be until 2016 when I actually board a plane, but I'm going to do it. Just ripping off the band-aid. Going abroad. (And NO, Mom, I will NOT actively avoid the Middle East. I don't think I'm going there, but if I do, I won't tell you til the plane lands.) Again, with the money thing. (At this point, I'm starting to see a pattern - are you? this song is what's going through my brain. Hope it sticks in your brain now, too. You're welcome!)

32. I'm going to think of my writing as a business--it's been suggested I set up a bank account and pay myself for writing, and use it to save any money I earn from writing. I wish you could see how hard I'm laughing at me right now: clearly my 2015 theme was: Champagne Goals, Beer Budget.

33. I'm going to create a vision board/s for a story/many stories I want to write. I love vision boards. Why don't I do these all the time, for everything? Putting this in the There's Still Time! category.

34. I'm going to see at least 5 plays. In real theatres. With actors and stages and...and...everything. And if I can finagle it? I'm going to go all groupie and see if I can get backstage. Tell them I'm with the band. (Actors can have groupies, right?) (Really, I just want the actors to teach me how to project my voice so I can scare kids.) Nope. There's still time, but not for 5 of these. Can I revise it to just one? Maybe 1 play in a theatre, before December 31. A cheap play. Or on a date with a rich man who pays for everything. Since it's a rich man's world. 
Edit: my sister-in-law just reminded me I saw a high school production of The Wizard of Oz earlier this year. But of course! Okay, I'm counting that as 1 live theatre play. Now I'll try to see 1 more live theatre production.

35. A lovely writer who taught me in two writing classes has a writing business now called Under Over On. I'm not sure I can afford the actual classes, but she often hosts Saturday writing sessions for creatives--you meet in a location that's inspiring in some way and you...just...WRITE. Nope. And this is a time issue, in that I've had Miss M on all the weekends. (How did THAT happen? Weekends are prime time...we're going to adjust that schedule.)

36. I'm going to take Miss M on a MARTA ride. Because character fodder. And it'll get her out of the house. I can do this! I totally forgot I said I was going to do this, and this is a super easy and cheap goal I can totally do before December 31 gets here. There's still time!

37. Planning to take a wine tasting class. Or an acting class. Or both. (Do you think they have acting classes in which you drink wine while you study? I'd like that.) Well, I've done a lot of wine tasting myself. And had a lot of dramatics. Just nothing formal, in a classroom. Will stick this in the Revisit in 2016 category.

38. I'm planning to find an online class to take--I'm not sure of what, but they sound much easier than having to go out into the elements. I'd have needed to find a FREE online class. Most people want like $350 per class to distribute information I bet I could locate online myself. And that makes me smell suspicious charlatan.

39. Though I'll miss the camaraderie of sipping wine and talking shop with other storytellers--so now I'm thinking meetup.com...I'll just start my own talk shop/sip wine meetup. I have a meetup.com account. The problem with this is (A) time - coordinating when I will and won't have Miss M, and (B) finding a group that seems like it'll fit me. I may have to start my own, but meetup.com wants money. Money, money, money...it's a rich man's world.

40. I'm going to write a poem or short story and read it out loud somewhere. It may end up being just on YouTube. But it'll be out loud. For an audience. I did this! Does reading a Mary Oliver poem count? I will write a poem and read it out loud on YouTube. Or read the one decent poem I've written. Or the poem about my brother I wrote decades ago, which will embarrass him (win win!). I can totally do that, before Halloween even gets here.

social media art publicity.

Art by Ian Bailey
Source:  The 7 Ways.

First, I have to mention DIG (on USA!). They've revealed more of the story and some of it got "Noooo!" out of me as I watched on Thursday. And also: "I KNEW that guy was going to end up dead! He knew too much." And: "Holy cow, that is SO effed up!" 

Second, never ever get into a cult. And I'm researching the Essenes. And somebody told me to also think about the Masons, for later. My grandfather and my dad were both Masons, in fact all the men on that side of my family for generations I think, so now I feel totally connected to the show. And also I wish my dad were still here, so I could ask him about the Masons...even though they're very secretive and he probably wouldn't tell me anything (we had a volume of Masonic encyclopedia-type books on our bookshelves when I grew up, and I would spend countless hours poring over many of these, trying to figure out (1) what the big deal was and (2) all their secrets) (the Masons are SO secretive, you can't even decode their secrets from their secret writings...I am certain they have underground lairs at both the North and South Poles, and they are completely responsible for this completely effed up weather we've been having in Georgia lately).

Third, I want to talk about artists having to do their own PR work. 

Jase (we're on nickname basis now--he can call me "Luv") and Anne, Alison, and Ori (we're all on first name basis now, but moving quickly to nickname basis...once I discover what their nicknames are) have to live tweet their show EVERY Thursday. For the next eight Thursdays. God bless them. The first time was exciting, the second time, too...but every Thursday?? Til MAY?? Lands. Well, I can't harass Jason and friends THAT much, so...I'm clearly going to have to pick my Thursdays. Or maybe just do an overall wrap up harassment tweet on Fridays. 

Maybe just Jason has been commanded to do this--he's actually very good at Twitter, and I'm sure Those In Charge are in love with that. So the other day, Jason asked, on Twitter, if his followers/DIG fans would like him to live tweet episode number two. I, being a total enabler and that one friend you can always count on to do all the stupid things with you, of course told him YES, YOU SILLY GOOSE. 

And then the next morning I woke up and saw that he was going to do it. And then I felt so guilty because I was one of the enablers. But also not guilty because he called us all bastards and I am NOT a bastard, simply kinda/sorta a floozy. Then later I saw where he told someone he has to do this, every Thursday, for the next 8 weeks. And then I didn't feel so bad or guilty, because obviously someone ELSE is the enabler and I can be happy in my slight harlotry, and feel fine with it.

...Quite frankly, I don't think this is about enabling at all; I think this is all about marketing. And if I could get Jason Isaacs and the DIG cast into a room, but particularly Jason because I sense on a certain level he--like I--doesn't necessarily agree with what social media is doing to us as a species and yet also sees, on another level, its alluringly intrinsic value in creating connections both locally and globally--if I could get Jason into a room alone, I would NOT ask him to take his shirt off as I notice about 28,000 of his female followers would ask him to do were they in a room alone with him--no. He and I would have a thoughtful conversation about how making Art has always been a tricky, hard thing to do, and now with the way world economics have gone and social media marketing, society is just totally fucking its artists all to hell in ways Mozart, Picasso, and Virginia Woolf never could have anticipated. (And THEN I would ask him to take his shirt off.) (KID! I kid Jason. I am far too composed offline to do something of that nature.) (Unless I've had 4 chocolate martinis and I think you like me.) (and if THAT was the case, I'd take my shirt off with you.)

Because one day, if/when I am published for real, I too will need to get on Twitter and market me and the Art I'm peddling. And I hate that. Most writers I've talked to or have read talking about this in interviews--we all hate this part. I think it's because...well, for example: I work with a lady who once got told she was going to be our school's reading specialist the next year and she was all kinds of in despair about it: "Amy, I'm a general practitioner," she told me, "I am NOT a specialist." 

But I am. I am a specialist. Which may be why I'm sorta kinda miserable in classroom teaching--I don't enjoy generalities.  If I could JUST teach writing, that'd be good for me. Or if I could JUST teach reading. Or if I could JUST teach math...ha! No, just messing with you. You don't want me teaching  your kid math--at least not beyond the basics. 

And so this making artists be their own PR people: it feels fucked up to me. Does it to you? I mean, people can do it. And, right now, both a traditionally pubbed and a self-pubbed writer are on Twitter mass tweeting their XXXXX number of followers for the 100th time this week to read their book. Later, they'll tweet their followers with an interesting piece of writing advice so it doesn't look like they're tweeting about their book, or a really smarmy thought or quote so it doesn't look like they just want you to read their book, or they'll respond to one of their fans so it doesn't look like they just want you to read their book. (I'm being very jaded and cynical there--I actually would thoroughly enjoy the interacting with fans bit because my inner narcissist would be in orgasmic spasms of joy.) 

Aren't there schools in which people are specifically taught the Public Relations arts? Once upon a time, if/when you were published, the publisher gave you a specialist to market your Art. You were the specialist in your Art--you'd written your Art, so you knew all about it. You could give the interviews and do the book talks. That was your job. Your marketer's job was to go find you the interviews and the book talk locations. Now, they want you to go do that, too. And I think that's lazy. And the reason I think that's lazy is because I AM lazy. So I know it when I see it--never try to bullshit a bullshitter.

And yet. Because of the phenomenon of social media, in which we are all quickly connected to our most favorite of everythings--songs, singers, tv shows, movies, actors, politicians (do people have favorites of those? i don't. and also i'm questioning if i should have even included them on a list of artists...but then again, politicking is an art form to a certain extent--the art of creating something out of manure and getting people to vote for it), novels, writers, painters, poets--the artists involved in whatever art they produce kind of HAVE to touch base with their audiences now. There's no excuse to not do it, given all the social media platforms that are being widely used now. And they definitely are under pressure to pull in more audience. Because for artists, it's about the story. But for people holding the money bags, it's all about ROI. Oh, they like the art produced. But mostly, they like the ROI.

Therein lies the conflict of our age. Humans have revealed themselves for what they are: desperate to be loved and heard. 

Furthermore and also, I find this is happening not just in Artistic circles, but everywhere else, too: how many jobs do you do at work? I do about 15 but only get paid for one. And I have to spread myself out over a variety of jobs I've never officially been trained how to do. When I talk to friends who work in corporations, they echo that this is happening to them, too.

It's that top 1% tier's fault. And the growing class chasm's fault. And social media. And smart phones and video games and e-readers and Dick Cheney. And Vladmir Putin. Who else can I point my angry, puritanical, Scarlet Letter, red finger at? 

We are a weird species. Have a happy Saturday.

40 goals.

Y'all know I like lists. I don't make lists very often but when I do, I am always more on track. Which is why I'm going to encourage you to participate in this list-making scheme with me, for 2015.

I read on Huffingtonpost.com recently about a writer who set 52 goals for herself in all things artsy and literacy for 2015. I hearted it, I hearted it a lot. You can read her ideas by clicking HERE. 

You have to come up with 52 things you want to do in 52 weeks. However, I am late to the game (per usual), and now we only have about 45 weeks left in this year. So I tried to come up with a stunning list of 45 things I want to have a go at in the next 45 weeks. But then I couldn't come up with 45. So I stopped at 40. Welcome to Amy. 

Oh, and I won't lie: I ripped off many from the original writer's ideas. Just flat out ripped them off. Didn't even change the wording, really. Total plagiarism. I'll accept my flogging with aplomb.

THE LIST

1. See (in a theater) 5 movies that do not involve cartoons, singing animals, or princesses of any kind.

2. Write 1 book review, and try to take it seriously.

3. Write 1 movie review, and try to take it seriously.

4. Go back to the Margaret Mitchell House at least one time to hear a visiting author read/speak about whatever work s/he is hocking. (You do know that book tours are like press junkets for literary types?) (I used to go to the Margaret Mitchell House all the time, but then I had a kid. Margaret's house is no place for busy little kids.)

5. The original creator of this list idea said to read a book waaay outside your usual genre preference/s. I'll pretty much read anything, but you know what I never read? Erotica. So I'm going to read a book of Erotica. Just to say I've read one.

6. I'm also going to watch one Horror movie. I'm not into Horror movies, but I'm going to see one just to say I did it. I hope I don't need Xanax after.

7. I'm going to write 1 short story and submit it somewhere legit.

8. I'm going to take a weekend away for myself, and do nothing but write.

9. I'm going to start a writer website.

10. With a logo.

11. On May 2, 2015, I'm going to shop at one (or five) local, independent bookstores. Apparently, this is now a thing: National Bookstore Day.

12. I'm going to start trying to interacting with more bloggers--writers and non-writers.

13. And I'm going to start trying to guest blog and host guest bloggers here. (Wanna write with me??)

14. I'm going to interview at least one writer (famous or not) and put it up here for all the world (aka: my mom) to read.

15. I will look into becoming a Huffington Post occasional blogger. Because why not?

16. I will join some type of writers' association.

17. I'm going to enter one (or more) piece/s of writing into a contest.

18. I'm going to return public library books ON TIME (which means M and I will be scheduling regular library visits, which means I'll have to prioritize, which means...well, just don't hold your breath on #18, is what I'm saying.)

19. I'm going to interact more with more published, established writers (famous and not so famous) on Twitter.

20. This summer, I'm going to commit to a minimum of 500 words of writing per day. June-July. Every day.

21. I'm going to go on a writer's retreat. You know where I'd really like to go? THIS place--that place looks lusciously delicious. But it it doesn't work out, I'm cool just creating my own retreat in a mountain cabin somewhere. (Wanna come hang out with me at a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains? We can be solitary creatives during the day, writing and taking quiet walks and contemplating Story. And then congregate in the kitchen/living room each evening to have wild hot tub parties with grilled gourmet dinners and wine and beer. But you'll have to do all the grilling because I burn stuff.)

22. I'm going to find a website that's content driven and apply to write for them (I know, I KNOW! I just wrote about what a snore bore content driven stuff is...but it's part of my building my published works scheme and there seems to be no way around it).

23. I'm going to find an online writing community to join.

24. And an offline community.

25. You know what I didn't do last year that I said I would? Last Spring, Jason Isaacs (Hello to Jason Isaacs!) tweeted about an organization called the Afghan Women's Writing Project (awwproject.org) that promotes rights of women to tell their stories. I meant to host a Living Room Fundraiser, but Life blew up and didn't do it. Going to rectify it. (Wanna come and hang out in my living room and celebrate freedom and literacy through storytelling?)

26. I'm going to randomly leave some books I loved reading in various locations, like coffee shops. Just to share my book love.

27. I'm going to promote the crap out of other storytellers, in as many ways as I can.

28. I'm going to take Miss M on a literary pilgrimage. I'm not sure where, but hopefully there will also be a beach involved.

29. Apparently, Twitter has pitch fests. They're online pitch conferences where writers try to get people to buy their ideas so they can write them. I'm going to participate in one. If I can figure out how to do it, and when they take place.

30. I'm also going to participate in artsy-oriented twitups, which are like meetups but on Twitter.

31. I'm going to travel somewhere outside the U.S.A. I've just decided to do it. And it may not be until 2016 when I actually board a plane, but I'm going to do it. Just ripping off the band-aid. Going abroad. (And NO, Mom, I will NOT actively avoid the Middle East. I don't think I'm going there, but if I do, I won't tell you til the plane lands.)

32. I'm going to think of my writing as a business--it's been suggested I set up a bank account and pay myself for writing, and use it to save any money I earn from writing.

33. I'm going to create a vision board/s for a story/many stories I want to write.

34. I'm going to see at least 5 plays. In real theatres. With actors and stages and...and...everything. And if I can finagle it? I'm going to go all groupie and see if I can get backstage. Tell them I'm with the band. (Actors can have groupies, right?) (Really, I just want the actors to teach me how to project my voice so I can scare kids.)

35. A lovely writer who taught me in two writing classes has a writing business now called Under Over On. I'm not sure I can afford the actual classes, but she often hosts Saturday writing sessions for creatives--you meet in a location that's inspiring in some way and you...just...WRITE.

36. I'm going to take Miss M on a MARTA ride. Because character fodder. And it'll get her out of the house.

37. Planning to take a wine tasting class. Or an acting class. Or both. (Do you think they have acting classes in which you drink wine while you study? I'd like that.)

38. I'm planning to find an online class to take--I'm not sure of what, but they sound much easier than having to go out into the elements.

39. Though I'll miss the camaraderie of sipping wine and talking shop with other storytellers--so now I'm thinking meetup.com...I'll just start my own talk shop/sip wine meetup.

40. I'm going to write a poem or short story and read it out loud somewhere. It may end up being just on YouTube. But it'll be out loud. For an audience.

What'll be on your list? Get cracking!

adventures in extreme people pleasing.

One Christmas when I was not quite a child but not yet a teenager, my mother gave me a little wall plaque that said EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO MY OPINION. I opened it and thought: my mom is soooo weird. I think I must have even said this out loud because I remember her going, "I know you think it's weird now, but one day you'll understand why I gave this to you." 

And my mother still does this kind of crap, all the time: gives weird gifts and then goes, "I know you think it's weird now, but one day you'll understand." And then I do not. I do not understand. And sometimes, I think about one of her gifts and silently ask: Why?? 

But the little plaque about opinions I do actually understand now. I still don't understand why I couldn't have gotten the make up kit with 250 different lipsticks and eye shadows like I asked for, but I now understand the plaque. For the record, that plaque was the only weird gift she's ever given me that I do understand now. Because Mom, I know you're reading this and Christmas is coming so listen to me: that plaque was the ONLY one. This year, just get me some wine glasses.

I don't want to blame anyone for who and how I am, because I am who and how I am because this is who I am and how. I challenge you to say that ten times fast while drinking. Having said that, I will also say in a really not-finger-pointing-at-all-just-sayin' kind of way that my father, raised by people who expected children to be seen and not heard and not even think about getting up from the dinner table until my grandfather said to, could often be a bit...steamroller-like with his own children. What I'm trying to say is: I have a hard time giving my own opinions now. And my mother saw this when I was a young, and gave me a small plaque to hang on my wall so that when I grew up I'd become bold and fierce and jump out of airplanes whilst screaming all of my opinions at the world. Which did not happen, of course. I bring Tylenol PM with me on long plane flights so I can be passed out if the plane crashes into the ocean. There will be no screaming of opinions from this girl, unless it's to scream my opinion about being terrified of death by fiery plane crashes.

I know, I know! I hear you saying: But Amy, you give lots of opinions here; this whole piece you're writing is one big opinion. Yes. However. Here I can be very bold because I know no one really reads any of this except my mom and some very sweet, dedicated friends (hi mom! hi friends!). So I'm not giving out any opinions that could make anyone mad at me (though, knowing my mom, now one of my Christmas presents will be a plaque with something really weird written on it). Or that, if I do, these people will most likely still love me and continue to take my calls after maybe a brief, stony period of silent treatment. 

But strangers don't have to do that. Do they? And strangers can be such a-holes. Seriously. I mean, have you read the Internet lately? 

Last year, during a writing class/writers workshop I was in, one of my writer friends read a piece I wrote and remarked: "Don't be afraid to give your opinion, is what we're saying. It's okay to rock the boat, Amy." I think about that every time I start typing here, every time I tweet something, every post I throw up on Facebook. I can rock the boat. It's okay to rock the boat, Amy. But I'm scared, Internet! I'm always scared I'm going to end up capsizing the whole thing.

I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings; I don't want to offend anyone. I hate getting my feelings hurt and being offended. It sometimes takes several days for my feelings to recover, and whole decades for me to stop being offended. I am working hard to develop thick skin, but I can tell this will be a lifelong process. And I think about that, too, when I give opinions. I don't want anyone nursing emotional wounds I've created or being offended by me for decades because I carelessly took a knife to their thin skin. I try to walk gently on the planet,and I spend hours berating myself and beating me up whenever I know I've hurt someone.

This is a real problem when it comes to creativity, by the way. I'm not hurt or offended if someone criticizes my writing, as long as it's done in a constructive manner. But I am loathe to hurt or offend others. It becomes a problem in that I look for only the most positive, helpful things to say about others' works of art. Which is important, because there is good in every piece of art someone produces; art comes from that Divine spark within, and that is always good. However, if you're truly serious about making art, there's always room for growth and improvement, and you should have someone or several someones around you who aren't afraid to point those areas out to you so you can consider them and then work to make it better. (In my opinion.)

I will share with you that one of the things I often speak with the Universe about is finding a safe tribe of fellow creatives--they don't all have to be writers, just creatives--in which to share our works of (he)Art. And to be able to feel safe enough, in that tribe, to receive feedback but also GIVE feedback openly, knowing I will still be loved.

Side story: A decade ago, when I first started writing seriously, I went to a couple of critique group sessions at a local writers' club. One of the people in it was a man in his mid-fifties who wrote mysteries. In these mysteries, the man would never reveal: who his main character was or even the main character's name...the setting...who the antagonist was, or even the antagonist's name...what the mystery was. You can only imagine my distress after reading and realizing: there is nothing positive I can say about this piece. Horrors! You guys, I can't even tell you how horrific that was for me--not a single, positive thing to say, except something like: Well done, you, with that comma placement! (except no! I think there were a lot of comma splices). Thank god someone in the group didn't worry about being too offensive, and they just said it like it was: Hey, what the hell is going on in this?! I didn't understand your story at all. What was the point? Where was the plot? Who were the characters? What IS this? WHY?!  

Mr. Mystery's feelings were totally hurt and he got all defensive. He was a mystery writer, and this was a mystery (he said). So everything in his story was a mystery; the readers were supposed to figure out the mystery that was in his brain. Put on our Psychic Hats and have at it, mystery readers, go go daddy-o! (Even the plot? asked the person. Especially the plot! said the mystery man all angry-like, It's not my job to tell you my mystery plot. Read Romance if you want plot, is what I think he also said.) And then they had sort of an awkward, passive aggressive argument and after that Mr. Mystery didn't come back to the next group. And I didn't go back to the group either, and not because Mr. Mystery didn't come back, but because I could tell they just weren't my tribe--there was a woman who only wrote children's stories about reindeer in it and when someone suggested she try other animals her next piece was about a deer, and another woman who wrote chaste romantic pieces with lines like She trembled softly as he kissed her smooth brow lovingly and chastely held her womanly hands and then looked in her eyes which shone like an angel's. I don't even know what to do with writing like that. My only suggestion for her would have been to make her characters stop being so chaste, go out! have some fun! enjoy some filthy sex! it'll be good for them! Except I think the characters were supposed to be Puritans in the 1600s. Or 1930s housewives. I can't remember now. (I'm sorry--I'm being ludicrously judgmental and harsh right now, I know. But honestly. He chastely held her womanly hands. What does that even mean?)

So I have a problem with piping up. And when I do, I always wait for moments when I know others will high five me so we can create a formidable army against those who disagree with my/our opinion. And if someone I admire a lot gives an opinion that is different from mine, I'm highly susceptible to changing my own thinking quickly--if I admire you, I want to be like you and I want you to like me, and if you think that, then okay! Me too. Because I'm wishy washy. And a Pisces sun/Cancer moon. And I have a desperate need to be liked. Adventures in extreme people-pleasing, I like to call it. I try to be the antidote to Mean Girl.

I'm telling you all of this because on Thursday, I watched Peter Pan Live. It was not good. But yet it was! Apparently social media has cultivated a phenomenon called hate-watching, in which snarky people tweet or blog pure snark while watching an awards ceremony, a tv show, or a classic children's production which is being aired live. I think NBC is one of the more exciting networks these days, because they seem to be taking risks on all kinds of things: trying to revive the miniseries format, live musicals, and staying with a series until it completes at least one season's story arc. I sense they see television is in a massive upheaval of change, and they're trying mightily to stay relevant and compete but also innovate. I can appreciate innovative. But it's also inviting Opinion (which is okay when constructive) and snark (which is okay too as long as it's not directed at me).

At any rate, I find the hate-watching entertaining to the extreme, and so I was more entertained by that than by the actual show. Besides which, I had to DVR it because it went from like 8:00 PM til 11:00 PM on a school night (what up with that, NBC? This was for kids....or wait! Maybe not...maybe NBC is developing a niche in which they air stuff seemingly for kids, but in reality it's so grown ups can play drinking games while watching TV and participating in real time schadenfreude on social media). After we watched Peter Pan (Live!) last night at a more reasonable time, Melissa announced that she loved it. She would like to dance and sing like them, and also can we get some wires in our house so we can fly around too? (NO.) (Okay, yes. That would actually be delightful fun. But only if we get a bigger house.)

Thursday night, most of Twitter agreed: Christopher Walken's Hook was fairly hilarious, but that's because most of Twitter agreed that Walken is fairly hilarious. Yesterday, Melissa was confused, because the only live Peter Pan/Hook she knows is Jeremy Sumpter as Pan and Jason Isaacs as Hook in the PJ Hogan 2003 version (which I've written about here before--how was that movie not a runaway hit of Harry Potter-like proportions? I think it's magical). Her major concerns from a child's perspective were: Why was Peter Pan a girl? Where was the real Captain Hook, and why is this one is too happy? Other than those two things, she was captivated--as she should be, since this stuff is so much better for her development than Barbie Goes to Princess School. Live hater-watch THAT, Twitter.

At any rate, I desperately wanted to join in on the hater-watching tweets and make new hater-watcher friends, but I was worried about Christopher Walken's or even Peter Pan Live's producers' feelings being hurt if they saw any of my tweets. And I feel like there's a fine line between creating humor and just being hurtful. Plus also, I genuinely like Christopher Walken; his FatBoy Slim dancing is magical, just magical. And his casual, nonchalant mumbling when he couldn't remember all the words on Thursday evening? Delightful! God bless him, I'd have completely frozen in horror at myself (I'm being very open and honest here: once, I played piano in a talent show, messed up three notes and then froze for about an eternity until I was able to find my spot again; then I just rushed through the whole thing all crazy-like so I could get off the stage). 

Walken just plowed through it all. I don't know. He may have been drunk. Really, I think that may be the only way to do these live television show productions. 

Plus, they worked so hard on this. I hate it when someone creative has poured their very all into a production only to watch it be attacked. Is there a way to constructively critique the less-than creations in ways that won't drive anyone to drink away what's left of their careers in a depressed funk? And yet I do appreciate some of funnier snark when it's clearly deserved--I am thinking specifically of people who produce things JUST to make money. Books and songs and movies that are horrible, not a single artsy thing about them, just: give us your money/time/attention. On those, please sarcastically opine away. The makers of those creations won't end up drinking themselves to death, I promise you--they'll take the attention as a sign they're doing something right, and be happy people are talking about them and their egos will soar. 

When that kind of societal snarky ridicule happens, and it's done well, I feel inadequate trying to hang out with people who excel in it--that kind of snark is an Art in and of itself. (Wine. I needed wine, is what I'm saying. Wine always leads me to believe I'm smarter and funnier and cleverer than I actually am. But it also makes the keyboard hard to see after a bit and also I'm less inhibited about what I'll agree to, and so tweeting and blogging drunk may not be for me.)

I think the whole point of this post is that I often have crises in confidence, briefly, after seeing how clever and popular some other people are. I would like 1.9K people to re-tweet some inanity I've put up. And that's because I would like to make lots of friends on and offline, and not have to have passive aggressive pissing contests with strangers in the process. Because I'm an extreme people pleaser, which makes giving my opinion hard sometimes, because I become paralyzed with fear I'm not good enough or someone will dislike me for saying what I think.

Which is why I'm going to end this with an strongly worded opinion. Have you been listening to Serial on NPR? There is now a lot of opinion out there about whether or not podcasts and other programs like Serial are okay--are they undue influences on the justice system? Or are they checks and balances? Do they just appeal to people's raw emotions? Or do they seek justice in ways the current system doesn't? Are they perpetuating bias in America? Or exposing it? 

Here's my strong opinion: who flippin' cares? It's fascinating listening, and also I am certain Adnan is innocent. Arrest Jay for god's sake. And also: this better not end with a "this was just a psychological experiment in podcast torture" or anything. I expect some firm conclusion, Sarah K. (Either way, I will still love you and give Season 2 a chance, so don't be mad at me for giving my opinion about that, okay?)

Oh, and before I go, here's my opinion-slash-philosophy on romance and love:

What Momus said (is that okay?).

a sensible plan.

I got this from an image Google search. If it is yours, I apologize.
My excuse was I was channeling Ernest Hemingway.
We both adore him, and so I think you and I should be
BFFs, whoever you are.

I am pretty much done with a story. The title is ALICE'S SENSIBLE PLAN. I rough drafted it this summer and worked on it bit by bit since July. I don't know what else to do with it. I feel like I should be all "kill your darlings" with it, but to be honest? I don't have any darlings in it.


I think the biggest thing about it may be the time switching--there's a bit of back and forth, and it could be an issue for some editors. I tried to address this, but at some point I think I just have to close my eyes, take a big breath, and leap.

It's based--loosely--on my maternal grandmother's relationship with her stepfather, Frank. My grandmother ("MomMom," if you must know) wanted to be a nurse. She had a mean stepfather who told her girls didn't need to get jobs; they needed to get married. I wish I could go back in time and punch Frank in the nose and kick him in the nuts. He also stole my grandmother's (and her sisters') inheritance. My great-grandmother ("Grammy," if you must know) first married a successful banker; MomMom grew up fairly wealthy. Their family had the only car in town, for example. My great-grandfather had some issues (I think most people did, back in turn of the century America. You know: before self-help books and navel-gazing was A Thing) and he died of cirrhosis of the liver. One of my bittersweet memories of my grandmother is this: stroke-ridden MomMom sitting at her kitchen table, slowly mumbling through a story about her beloved Daddy, how deeply she'd adored him, how difficult it had been to say good-bye. And how hard life had been with Frank--they'd lived on a coal miner's salary, while he'd given all her Daddy's wealth to his daughters from his first marriage. But mostly she talked about her Daddy, how much he'd made her laugh, and what a huge hole his death had left in her heart.

I remember MomMom as a stern, unloving sort of matriarch. My mother tells some incredible, sad stories about what it was like to be raised by someone struggling with anger and severe depression. But when I heard the Frank stories, I sort of clicked some puzzle pieces together and understood the Why of MomMom. I'd be enraged and depressed, too, if my stepfather had been an evil sonofabitch. (MomMom once had a pet chicken--I forget her name, but she loved her, as one would love a puppy or a kitten. One day, the family had chicken for dinner. Everyone ate, including MomMom, and at the end of dinner, Frank sent her out to look for the pet chicken, who was of course gone. He announced triumphantly the pet chicken had been the family dinner that night. MomMom never ate poultry again. Seriously--even on Thanksgiving. We'd all eat turkey, and MomMom would eat everything but that. Again: life sucks when your drunk and happy, rich daddy is replaced by your evil, unscrupulous sonofabitch stepdad.)

So I wrote the story based on Frank, and on MomMom. MomMom, like Alice in the story, cuts off her nose to spite her face by doing exactly what Frank wants. Like walking right into a spider's lair. Abuse is insidious. But unlike MomMom, Alice is a little vengeful and kind of macabre. And there's no real happy ending. (Sometimes there just isn't, World. Sometimes, there is no happy ending. I'm sorry. This is Life.)

So I posted a snippet of it in my snippets section, because I haven't updated that in months and I should. And please go there if you can, and if you'd like to leave feedback, you can. Or you can just wait for me to find someone willing to publish it and then you can read it there. Or maybe no one will want to publish it, and I'll just sigh and do it myself, just like the Little Red Hen.

I've had kind of a bad evening and 3 glasses of Apothic Dark Wine in me, and so I apologize if this is coming across all What the hell is wrong tonight, Amy?! It's the wine, friends. It's usually the w(h)ine. Plus, Ernest Hemingway said: Write drunk; edit sober. And so I'm going to try that tonight and see if it works. I'll let you know if it does or not. (Once I've recuperated.)

(P.S.~I have a 50% less weird blog post for tomorrow.)

talent agency of amazing amazements.

I know a buttload of talented, gifted people. A BUTTLOAD. (I keep hoping some of their gifts will rub off on me and I shall fly! Fly to the top of the highest mountain!)

So I'm going to promote them, because (a) I can since this is my blog and I get to do whatever I want and (b) this is my blog and I get to do whatever I want on it.

Disclaimer: these products are fully, wholy, absolutely being endorsed by me, and if I could make you, I would force you to buy their products and you would THANK me for it. I swear on all that is holy and St. Mary's left buttock, you would thank me. Because your life would be happier and you would be at peace.

Endorsement #1.  Patresa Hartman is a thoughtful, introspective, wise, and funny wordsmith/songwriter. I met Patresa on a blog years and years ago when I was reaching out to other writers and creative/expressives, and I latched onto her like a burr from a bush full of brambles. Fortunately for me, she has never pulled me off and we are friends to this day. I heart her, a lot.

Several years ago, Patresa and her friend Holly gathered me and about 7 other creative/expressive women (and 1 man) together and challenged us to a group project called COFFEE (it was an acronym for something real hipster--I can't remember what though. Something about chickens or champions). We each picked something that scared the bejeesus out of us or something that was really challenging to us--we tackled those things, wrestled around in the mud with them, and kicked their asses until we were standing tall and proud, flexing our muscles like Rosie the Riveter(s).

Someone's project was writing a novel...another was going to tackle an entire Be More Creative program...another was going to jump out of a plane or something. My project was Cooking More (seriously, 2010 Amy?). Today, my project would be Pitch a Television Show to a Real TV Producer...or Take an Acting Class and Audition for a Real Play...or Write Your Effing Novel Already, Amy. But 2010 Amy was a big, ridiculous idiot, so I wrote about shopping at Whole Foods and filmed myself "cooking." Like I'm Jamie Oliver's hick wannabe cousin.

Patresa's project was to sing in front of a live audience. Patresa can SING, y'all! She always has, but she was scared shitless to do it in front of strangers. So she wrote about her fears on the COFFEE blog, filmed a bunch of YouTube videos of her sharing her beautiful song creations, and then, finally, one night deep in the darkest of winter ('cause that's when the magic happens), she went to a coffeehouse, stretched out her wings...and she flew. 

Inspiring. She's simply inspiring. (This is the part where she is cringing in embarrassment at her computer and rolling her eyes and going: Dude, you're really overselling this.) (And this is the part where I am shushing her, and telling her to stop that, stop it right now!) I am determined for Patresa to be a household name.

So here's what she has done since embarking on that journey four years ago: she's written a bunch of gorgeous, heart-filled songs. Songs that, when I heard them as I drove to work one day, kind of made me teary-eyed. I said out loud to nobody in the car except maybe to her heart miles away, "Patresa! Oh my god! This is YOU! This is YOU, Patresa!" Because I remember what a big chicken she was, and NOW look at her. Just LOOK at her!

I love Patresa's voice, I love her words, I love her soothing melodies and rhythms. Her music is beautiful, reflections of her soul. And I promise I am not just saying this to get you to buy her product (the stuff I'm about to write is to get you to buy her product). Her songs remind me of Ani Difranco and Alanis Morrisette (but after she got over being angry about being dumped and discovered Buddha). With a tad bit of Ingrid Michaelson. Maybe some Suzanne Vega here and there. And then big chunks of her own sound that nobody else has done.

Here's the really creative part: she wrote a book (with only 8 cuss words in it) to go with the CD. And the consumer conscious, gorgeous part about that is if you'd really rather just read words, you can skip the CD (although you'd be insane to do that) or if you'd really rather just listen to her music, you can skip the book (although you'd be insane to do that). The book is a collection of essays to go with the songs, and the essays will have you connecting so strongly to Patresa's creative musings, you will wonder--as I often do--if she's stealing your inner thoughts somehow. She writes from the heart, and is an innate storyteller/connector of people.

So here are some links to Patresa's  Reverb nation and Facebook pages. But if you just want to cut to the chase and go get you some amazing amazingness, go HERE: patresahartman.com.

Endorsement #2. I met my friend Angie several years ago when we worked together. We got very close due to extenuating and stressful circumstances, and then? One day? Angie stopped me in the hall and went, "Hey. I have a project I need your help with." And proceeded to let me know she had an idea for a television show, but she needed someone who could write...and would I be willing to consider writing the script for it? At least the pilot?

I had never written a script before, but I have written a lot of other stuff, and so I thought: writing is writing is writing is writing, right? How hard can it be? I high fived her, and said: "Let's get her done!" And then proceeded to slowly discover: writing is NOT writing is NOT writing is NOT writing. Script writing is much different than short story writing...but I'm working on it. I'm totally trainable! (Unless it's cooking...that's going to be a lifelong in-training project, I discovered during the COFFEE project.)

At any rate, that was just information to tell you why and how Angie became such a dear friend. She has a sweet, creative, imaginative little girl a really great husband, and she has a bunch of chickens (plus 1 mean old rooster), goats, a donkey, and an awesome saltwater swimming pool that Miss M and I are completely going to commandeer all next summer. 

The coolest thing about Angie is that she's not only a creative/expressive, but she's a Scientist on top of it. Who says Science and Creativity aren't connected?! (Not Albert Einstein.) She's a talented photographer AND she's a budding fashion designer. I just discovered this the other day when she sent me a link on Facebook to her Etsy shop and offered up the exact kind of dress I'd have lived in when I was 5 or 6. (okay, fine...it would have also needed sparkles, but I'm sure Angie can do it.) So go HERE if you'd like to own some of her amazing fashion creations...hopefully you also have someone near you who can wear it. (If you're telling me you could totally wear something a 4 year old girl could wear because it's just your size since you are a size negative 12, then we can't be friends. I'm sorry, I know that's very shallow of me, but it's how I feel and so I'm sorry, no. We can't hang out.)

Endorsement #3. My sweet friend Jaime is an amazing photographer! In addition to star photographer, Jaime is one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I know. She's a consummate problem solver and vessel of positivity. When I broke my foot a year ago, Jaime showed up at my house with one of those long handled claw thingies so I could sit in my makeshift wheelchair/office chair and be able to reach stuff up high. She brought Miss M star sunglasses, because Jaime's that kind of thoughtful. Later, the claw thingie became a toy for Miss M, and she would play with it while wearing her star sunglasses. 

And on top of all that, Jaime's got an artist's eye.

Really, I don't know why she's languishing in a day job when she could be out there, traipsing the world on assignment from National Geographic. Or snapping pictures of famous people (she would be the CLASSY section of the paparazzi).

Last summer, Jaime got to go to Portugal and Spain, and I completely traveled vicariously with her through all her lovely photographs. When Hugh Jackman stars in the movie version of one of my books, I will invite Jaime to the red carpet premiere and Hugh and I will give her all the exclusive photos and make her world famous and rich. Annie Liebowitz will fume for years about it.

You can buy some of her amazeball photographs of amazing places HERE: JaimeMara Photography.

Endorsment #4. My friend Brenda is also a former coworker. If you need your kid to learn anything, she's the person to put your kid with. She's also got a supernatural ability when it comes to being organized and on target. In addition to all of that, Brenda bakes hot cross buns. No seriously, she bakes. Like a madwoman, she bakes. In fact, she has a whole business called Brenda Bakes. She can make amazing cakes! And cupcakes. And cake pops. And other sweet treats that will send you into sugar shock and put you on a diet until mid-2015 but good god it'll be worth it.

Listen: if  you need a cake? This is your cake lady. She could make you a cake of Godzilla looking pensive yet irreverent as he holds leftover bits of chewed up humans bleeding out guts and stuff. I don't know why in the world you'd even want a cake like that, but let's say you did. Brenda could make it.

So if you live in Atlanta, you should...wait, what? What did you just say? You don't live in Atlanta?! Oh. Jeez. God. Sorry. Well, that sucks so much for you. But if you DO live in Atlanta, (1) high five on choosing to move here and (2) if you need an amazing cake while you're here, you can click THIS: brendabakes.com and Brenda will totally bake you one. (If you ask for my Godzilla cake, you have to save me a piece.)

That's it. I bet I forgot someone amazing. If I did, I will be doing another round of talent agency of amazing amazement endorsements later, and I will fix this! (This is the problem with knowing a lot of talented creatives. There's so many my brain doesn't always get them all.)

In conclusion: by the end of today, I expect you to have ordered a CD/book by an amazing singer/songwriter...a gorgeous dress that hopefully your daughter/granddaughter/niece/brave nephew in touch with his mystical feminine can wear to parties...a stunning rendition of life in Spain or Portugal or Georgia/USA...and a Godzilla cake (of which you will save me the bloody guts piece and I don't want to hear a single complaint about that since I was the one who told you about this).

Got it? GO!

creative chaos.

Thank heavens, Internet, I figured out how to turn off the blinking cats. Honestly, you have no idea how much it was bumming me out every time I logged into my dashboard here. The blinking cats gave me a terrifying, brief glimpse into who I'll be when I'm 85 years old: suspicious and annoyed with the young. Ask any of my 2nd graders--they'll confirm I'm well on my way.

Here is what I've decided I love about my new class of children: they love stories. And that means, in spite of some of their poor decision making Monday through Friday, I love them. Because I love stories! And I love people who love stories! And if only we could just all sit around and share stories all day long like Plato and Socrates and Aristotle used to do with their students, I really think we could get rid of stupid people who start or join organizations like ISIS and the KKK and the 700 Club. Get rid of crazed obsession with data and tests, and bam! World peace and agape love. Don't worry--I'm already working on my UN pitch.

So today, we talked about Characters, Setting, and Problem/Solution, 3 key components of understanding fiction for developing readers and writers. I read them a book by Loren Long called OTIS, which is a sweet story about an old tractor and his friend, a calf. They adored it. You know how I know? They clapped and cheered when it was finished. At some point this year, I expect a standing ovation and will become completely disillusioned with life if it doesn't happen. Reading to them is the one time I've noticed they're very quiet and attentive, so now I'm trying to figure out how much I can get away with reading to them. If I could read to them all day long, believe me: I would.

The other thing I love about them are their soft hearts. They love babies and soft kittens and roly-poly puppies and squidgy teddy bears and basically just all things ridiculously cute. And love. I got a bunch of kids who are in love with love. Yesterday at lunch, I had a conversation with a little girl that went like this:

GIRL: 

Ms. S, do you have to be grown up to have a husband?

ME: 

Yup.

GIRL: 

TOTALLY grown up?

ME: 

Totally. Well over 29.

GIRL: 

29?! I'm going to be a grown up when I'm 15. When I'm 15 I'm going to get a husband. So I can be happy.

ME: 

What?!  Who says you have to have a husband to be happy? Some grown up ladies don't get married and live by themselves and they're very happy.

GIRL (looking at me all crazy): 

Nu uh. Everybody has to have a husband. My auntie has to have a husband right now. And I want to get a husband so I can be rich and get HAPPY! If my auntie gets a husband, I get to be the flower girl. 

GIRL ON OTHER SIDE OF TABLE: 

We can get some husbands together and marry them on June!

ME: 

You guys are going to get married on the same day?

GIRL: 

Yeah! To the same husband!

GIRL ON OTHER SIDE OF TABLE: 

And we can have babies and take them for walks!

GIRL: 

My baby's name is going to be Tinkerbell. Did you know she's my favorite fairy?

I'm still marinating in this lunch conversation, trying to sort my feelings out about it. First off, I think Girl 1's auntie needs to stop selling matrimony to young, impressionable girls. Girls ought to learn to go to sleep alone, wake up alone, and know when their eyes greet the sun (alone): I am at peace as is, no one else can complete me like I complete myself. On the other hand, I think it would make Girl 1's whole life to be a flower girl in her auntie's wedding and she'd be excellent at the role, so what the hell do I know?

Second, I'm pretty sure Georgia is the backward state when it comes to legalizing shared husband marriages. But I hate when people pee all over my parades, so I didn't want to break their hearts.

And last, stop naming kids after tv characters and rock bands, society! Children have terrible taste, and we're just creating adults with zero ability to discern crass vs class. I can only imagine how many Anas, Elsas, Olafs, Svens, and Kristoffs we're going to have running around this place 20 years from today. Also, this is going to be so absurd in 60 years. Aging, wrinkled people named things like One Direction and Frozen and Tinkerbell and Xbox 360 getting knee replacements and pacemakers are going to serve as sad commentary on the havoc humans can wreak upon their helpless young.

(Once, someone asked me: Why didn't your parents name you Delilah? [As an ode to my last name.] I said, "Because they weren't cruel people.")

(And another side note, I cannot tell you how many bizarre names I've been witness to over the years: YourMajesty, Sweet Precious, Heavenly Angel (who was anything but), Blessica, Almonds (pronounced: all-MONZ), Oleg Cassini, Rolex, and Mercedes Benz to name a few. Those are all real names. Of real people walking the planet, right now. Man, we're a strange species. And very materialistic.)

Okay. Now I'm going to segue from creative names to talking about creative industries:

I'm attending The Red Clay Writer's Conference in Savannah, Georgia this October. I'm stupendously excited about it. Not just because my sweet writer friend Becky and some of my all-time favorite, non-writerly people are coming with me, and not just because I get to spend several hours one afternoon totally geeking out about wordsmithing. But also because: we're going to Savannah, y'all! Savannah. Have you been there? If not, you should go. I love that place a lot. It's simply one of my favorite places in America, and not just because it's the most haunted (ghosts are REAL, y'all! Real. Don't let the skeptics fool you). The people are quirky, there's a lot of melancholy Spanish moss hanging around, and the ghosts are like Whack-a-Mole; seriously, they're everywhere. If you go to Savannah, I promise: you'll see dead people--I did. (Okay, no I didn't. But I HEARD one--she talked to me.)

I can't wait for the conference day, to see what kind of interesting writer-y types we run into and what type of Who Knew?! information about the writing business we glean. I was thinking about writer-y types yesterday (since I am one), and how pushed some people are to express themselves via words or story. Or how pushed some people are to paint or photograph or write songs or play a musical instrument or sculpt or act or make movies. I don't know about them, but I do it because often feel like I have chaos in my brain, and really I'm just sitting in front of a computer trying to sort it out so it makes sense to ME...and maybe, in the process, someone else will connect to it and their chaos will be sorted. Just a bit? Maybe?

At any rate, this is my theory on why some people create art in any form: a vast need to corral a writhing stampede of pandemonium gone wild and turn it into something beautiful. That, and they can't afford a good psychiatrist.

The problem with any creative industry isn't that you have to have a ton of talent, necessarily, but that you have to really be willing to work at whatever amount of talent you do have. I recently read an article about people who become successful in Hollywood, which is a land chockablock full of talented people. There's so much talent in Los Angeles, the cockroaches have agents (you can't use that--I'm copyrighting it: Cockroach Talent Agents). The difference comes in who actually gets to actually work vs who just thinks their talent will magically get them where they want to be. And also: there's no such thing as an overnight success. Hollywood likes to sell that story to the public, and that's because Hollywood is a pro at creating blockbuster films that could never happen in real life. Every successful person is someone who's been working at it (hard) for years, and finally, one day, somebody noticed them.

This is daunting for me. Because listen: I'm a person who'll sit and watch 6 hours straight of DVR'd television shows (while consuming one whole pint of Talenti Salted Caramel gelato, all by myself). And now I'm back to real world work, which I actually do work very hard at (so I know I can do it. I can work hard. When I decide to...and the mortgage is due), and real world work/mortgage payments is eating into my working at writing time and I've been forgetting to write every day.

The other day, someone who follows me on Twitter and I follow back Direct Messaged me and asked if I had anything I'd like for him to read--he writes short stories and just really enjoys beta reading (I think? from looking at his Twitter page). So first, I was all: HOORAY!!!!!!! HUMAN INTERACTION ON TWITTER!!!!!! and then I was all: oh. uuuuh...do I have anything for this person I don't know in real life to read? ....i don't know? (I actually do have something, but I'm still cleaning it up. Meaning, it's sitting in my Google Docs waiting to be worked on. For going on 6 weeks now.) So I thanked him for his sweet offer, said yes and asked if I could send him the link when it's ready. Then I smacked my forehead and told myself to pull it together! pull it together and just do the damn work, Amy.

Why do I not have this issue in my non-writer job? Because they give me a paycheck, that's why. And there's a schedule, and I'm a person who really really needs a schedule (even though I hate them). And most important, I have to leave my house to do that job. When I'm at my house, there's Internet, satellite TV, books, and easy access to gelato to distract me.

That's it. You're at the end. I'm pretty much done here. I thought I had a point when I went down this write-talk about creative work and chaos and working at your talent and whatnot. Did I make any points that were helpful to you? If not, I'm sorry that you got this far, all for a sudden wrap up of:  I feel like I'm forgetting something. I do think I had something very important to say, and the salted caramel gelato just totally off-tracked me, as salted caramel gelato is wont to do. Think I'm just going to label that my creative process and call it a day.