My newest girl-crush! Can’t wait to attend Cait’s classes! Join me!

My re-blogger is broken…merde!
http://authorkristenlamb.com/2017/06/the-coup-day-2-historical-research-for-fiction/

#AfathersWish

Because I know he would be proud! Much love and Happy Fathers Day! I miss you dad! 

Procrastination, self-sabotage & the fear of using words clearly…

1st let me blame my current paradigm on #Starbucks.

(Yeah, not my name or what I said, but strangely, “this time”, my coffee…)

In my current situation, I find myself with a stomach ache. A self-induced need to vomit due to a class I am taking tomorrow. A one-on-one plotting adventure with a writing coach I admire “too” much and as I try to prepare I find myself with the urge to post here.

Hey ya!

What am I to take from this?

I have hand-scrawled papers strewn about my 10′ long dining room table. My office and desk have become a tangled maze where I can no longer sit comfortably or house the twenty devices I power while writing. I am unable to find the digital files I would like to reference or which apparatus I used while working endless hours on the questions I am sure will be asked.

A mess, a hot, freaking homeless looking disaster would describe me in perfect detail.

Why do I choke? When this is everything I have been working for?

Somehow, someway trying to place an order through the drive-thru has made me doubt my ability to speak perfect English. I live in the PNW, Pacific Northwest. We don’t have accents unless we are expats from across the country or continents, in which I am not. I have left any valley-girl tendencies back in the eighties, like, totally.

I have, over the years, wheedled my order to the barest of necessities. (the stress involved in a more complicated drink, NOT worth the effort) Americano. Bam. Phlewy. Simple. I need to determine two things, my preferred size and if I’d like my drink iced. There are no bells or whistles. So how does my coffee turn into a Trenta, stirred, non-fat, caramel mocha, extra hot, hold the whip, with drizzle and added cream? ?? ??? 

Aliens? Gremlins have invaded my left frontal brain lobe? No longer do I speak words, but wheeze instead, and the baristas are forced to make the order up?

There are no cars behind me in line. I am alone. There is only 1 drink on the reader board. And if that was my drink, God forbid, I should state my preferences in the wrong order, but it is not. I am 100% positive I am unilingual, sad, I know, and the only words to come out of my mouth were, “May I please,” being polite and all, “have a grande Americano.” Inferring I’d like it hot since the words “iced” were not used.

The whole ordeal defies any form of logic and makes me doubt EVERYTHING. ,

This will be me.

Because, how? if I am unable to relay a ridiculous coffee order through a drive-thru voice box in clear detail will I ever be able to define the projects I am working on? And storylines are a tad more complicated than ordering a cup of “Joe” or are they?

Write On! ❤ Jess

P.S…wish this girl luck, I have the feeling this is my key to unlocking the magical golden door to the kingdom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

#CGGC a.k.a Critique Group God Complex

Never heard of it? Yeah, neither had I, but I’ve met a few, so I made one up, lol! We know some are suffering….

All in love and good fun, Write On! ❤ Jess

these things I do

Welcome to Thursday, June 8th, 2017 the day AFTER June 7th, 2017, the 1st Wednesday of the month and the official day of IWSG.

( Déjà vu…I feel as though I’ve been here before, many times, many, many times. 😦 )

It’s a very real possibility my membership has been dissolved, being tardy for the party and all.

Which is exactly why I am the perfect member for The Insecure Writers Support Group.

Insecurity, Not Good Enough and Other Sucky Things Writers Do to Themselves

Gosh, I love this lady!

If you are a writer, you’ve probably asked yourself why. Writing is serious business. It’s solitary. It’s demanding. And no matter how much you study and how much you practice, it is a craft that you never master.

On the one hand, you have to be a little bit crazy to want to lock yourself into a room several hours each day to create worlds with the written word. On the other hand, story telling is sacred art. Stories can teach us, provoke us and make us feel and think in ways that we might not have otherwise. And the writer is always looking for this–what is it that I am writing which touches a universal place in the human condition?

Even with a lofty vision of what writing is to you, it will always be an unforgiving taskmaster.  I write and perfect to the best of my ability only to discover the…

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#Happy #June #Baby

That’s right, so let’s get up and dive in!

(The inspiration is more for me than anyone else, yikes.)

Over on my blog jessicaedouard.com, the one covered in cobwebs and filled with chirping crickets, because I’m a happenstance, infrequent visitor to a blog plastered with my name.

#WTHJ (What the Heck, Jessica) #GYST (Get your s___together, stuff people, lol) But don’t I make a cute #Kenny?