Pleased to meet you…

* hope you guess my name *

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I bet you’re curious how my FebYo’WriMo group went?

Fantastically awry and disgustingly amaze in one single nutshell of immense Mr. Peanut proportions. What else would you expect of me? The group continues as a safe haven for writers who seek to post something, anything without the judgment of, let me see…the world.

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I’m going to give myself that one. We don’t beat ourselves in the face with frying pans anymore, remember?

Let me check w/ Insecure Writer’s Group Question of the month…oops looks like FebYo’ary is still up so I’m going rogue. Afterall, I’m writing this post almost a week in advance. Shocker! I’m thinking we may need to develop a Tortured Souls team…who loves the punishment! cue cymbals…

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So…if you’re thinking about creating an epic group of social media fame on Facebook take it from the monarch of leaden feet, there are a few things you might like to know. 

#1 There are no invitations.

When you click add members, it lists the followers of your page whether they’d like to chill and drink a cappuccino with you on the coldest day of FebYo’ary without any freaking shoes or smear your endearing puss into the inkwells of self-loathing and despair. #sorry?

#2 Prepare to make apologies if you don’t follow #1!

I am used to making a quasi-triumphant backward mess of my great intentions, you, my good friend may not. Accidentally adding your peers to a list when you assume, yes, this applies here, (ass of u & me} they are in agreement is not a pleasant form of dog poo-poo in the face.

#3 Seek the advice of those who’ve gone before you.

Ummmm, croaking frogs, resembling a writer-this one, filled with crazy possibility and a bubble of vomit refusing to be swallowed. I didn’t ask anyone. I trustfully flung my body backward and am now wearing a full-body-cast of those who love me anyway.

#4 Wear 2018 Olympic verified knee-pads.

If the cues of #1 & #2 don’t slow the thrum of excitement in this fantastic idea you’ve developed…invest in yourself. Yes, you are worth it, and, at least, your aging knee-caps will be forever thankful when you go ‘a groveling.’

#5 Keep to the basics??

FB is a peculiar place. I believe the idea grand, and stupendously (adverbs were created to be abused), perplexing.

I’ve three profiles, the first produced in the fantastical errors of moi while developing my online presence as an author. Fresh from my first writer’s conference in a hasty fashion and void of other clues. 

The second, a correction of the first. 

The third to help promote my life work #SendSunshine (that social media, Instagram/Etsy, recently helped be discovered & showcased here…. rawartists.org/sendsunshine  If unable to attend event PLEASE purchase a ticket & support #IndieArtists like you and me.)

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So….let’s transgress, a habit I diverge most often.

Identity #1 should be my personal page where, instead, I invited everyone my location suggested, their bathroom toilets and those who wished to never look at my precious-mug again. Every follower is organic, because, people, these beautiful organisms of never-ending judgments are waiting for spilled waste. I refuse to post a daily transcribe of why my laundry gets folded in starched unwrinkled triangles or the successes of my non-blemished straight A children, what a horrible standard, facebook fame? But, if I want to see any updates on relatives, this is where I’ll find it and their latest school pictures?? Sad, don’t you think? 

ID #2 the real deal…the single identity I should have started in the beginning, but believed I needed a page and couldn’t create without #1. 

Quit? Nose-dive off the moon? Beserkers NO! When you’re in this deep, you keep going. Don’t you?

Here I hang with my other insecure writer friends, as desperate to be seen as me. And some TRUE writing kings & queens, whom, in the most recent month, I may have lovingly splattered a dab of piddle on their bared shin. My trees. The ones I aspire and apologize for my continued ignorance of how this social media nightmare, namely FB, works.

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Confession-I recently absconded the title “Aspiring Novelist” from another fantastic novelist of soon to be acclaimed fame. Love you Steph! And in this month of heralded flubs a re-discovered best friend.

Find the silver lining in all things you are passionate. I’m not afraid of transparency, I’m scared shitless of not taking the opportunity for fabulous to be found.

Write On! ❤ Jess

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PS-If you are serious, really serious about developing the craft of writing and don’t already know everything (because, seriously, it’s highly possible you really-don’t) … These are the names you need to investigate, know, breathe, and to whom I apologize for my faux pas must humbly. I am a sincere doll of fumbling fabulosity, right?

Larry Brooks

Kristen Lamb

Cait Reynolds

Raidon Pheonix

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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the could’ves, would’ves, & should’ves…

...A top 10 for the year known as -whispering- 2017...
(I get it, like, so...eleven days ago.)

#1- Posted for #IWSG on the required 1st Wednesday of every month.

Details…details… Not much to ask, right?

Following said instruction with the included advice from my very well-meaning, makes me smile because her brain stem tingles at a rate faster than mine, baby sister, “You can schedule those…” Yeah, thanks. And, she is right. And, because self-deprecation is something I no longer indulge, inhale or include in my personal evaluations, my response is, “Brilliant.”

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#2- I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve answered the damn questions in the monthly writing prompt.

Questions? Yes, it’s that easy.

As usual, I have a way of veering in a direction less traveled and impressively farthest from any ones cares. My rantings surely touch home base with my doppelganger, wherever she, or he, may reside and what a curious thought, do these strangely familiar individuals act like you or simply possess your devastatingly impressive looks?  (Note to self: too freaky to research further.) 

#3- Splurged in the wealth of information and sane advice from other Insecure Writers Group members.

Why haven’t I?

This is the real question, but one I shall relish in remedying. The site is filled with valuable, relatable, inspiring articles. If I reached out to Insecure Writers creator, Alex Cavanaugh or his helpers, without hesitation, they respond. It’s true, he has talked to me before. (An event in comments I am sure he remembers.) Also, a quality only occasionally found within these fickle writer-type creatures, well-intentioned, but most-times distracted.

The fresh theme at IWSG begs you to dive into the library and, do what? begin…unabashed, belly-flop back flat with no hesitation or fears. The Write Life for year #dos has listed #IWSG as one of its 2018 top 100 websites for writers, sectioned under Writing Communities. Bravo team! Hu, hu, huzza!

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#4- I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve made time for me in whatever crazy spaces I inhabited.

Poof! Recently zapped by an acquired Hogwart’s magic wand, I remember what I’ve always known. Time is elusive and not guaranteed. Whenever feeling the need to justify my situation, instead use solutions, like, this phone has notes & a voice recorder!

I will, going forward, utilize commuting and wait times wherever this life finds me. I am sure there are a million other squandered opportunities my wayward identical twin or inspired sister will unearth in a blaring beacon of light further awakening my dragon, who now, by the way, works for me.

My eyes, my eyes, these, I need ‘computer reading glasses’ tired, inflamed eyes will embrace most assured.

#5- Shown NO fear of splashing, zinging, singing.

La, la la

Why not? be gallant in…everything, especially life’s missteps.

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Dear Self….get your #^! SH*t together

Ummmmm…where has American Writers Exposed Gone?

Because I surely do not know…

It’s possible I do, so let us see if we can unearth this unkempt void to the beginning. 

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What the triple heck? As surely as eating better, my quest to post articles in a regular, meaningful fashion became lost. Sandi has been long on tour and I languishing on holiday in the cavernous recesses of Mt. Blockheadiness. A dismal vacation I promise.

Excuses are poor and so I shan’t give one.

Let’s talk.

My three year do or die clock has struck. 

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The window I gave myself to make my writing gig happen or pack up. 

There was a time I believed I never procrastinated. My littles complained I stuffed way too many stops into a single trip to town. In this day, I find it hard to prepare for a 3 o’clock appointment. My wonder woman invisible mountain blocks my way.

I mean I have to wake up, which could turn into a 2-hour event. There is showering involved, some primping and whining no doubt. My bed is never made so I don’t have to worry about that, but looking in the closet, the dresser drawers? Yikes, pressure begins to build.

So where in the life of lives of mine does my writing fit? I have acclimated into this clinging seaweed monster of advanced stall tactics smack dab in the middle of living my authorly dreams.

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(This is very close to me but you must add a spin, plus another…circling in the same spot.) Annoying, I know.

Over the past 6 months, I have hooked up with some great people. A phenomenal person. A clever-witted brilliant individual with vision, excitement, and knowledge to catapult me into the penman atmosphere of global literary enlightenment. Like POW, where have you been my whole life?

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And what have I done?

Froze. Deer in headlights, the whole gambit. I have no shame to admit such. What is my issue, fear? Didn’t I give that up the 1st time I submitted anything? posted on the internet? stepped forward and admitted I write romance? 

I’m doing everything I said I’d never do like a middle-aged driving disaster going 35 on the interstate and not in the right lane with hazard lights, but to the left. My personal blog and AWE have been left unattended. Don’t you like that acronym, AWE? See I’m doing it again. 

Deep down I understand my fear. When I started, I believed the hype I’d been told. Never did I dream I’d have more downs than ups. Couldn’t imagine the lack of support I’d receive from my community of related personage. Or realized my ability to be impetuously drawn into non-factorly tasks.

What a load.

So I ask the greatest community of wordsmiths in every stage of their multiple WIPs to send this block of dirt a surge of well wishes to “get er’ done!” (I hate that quote too!) Like, tomorrow, or if I’m seriously serious, today.

 

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Write On ❤ Jess!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

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(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?

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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. ,

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

#Happy #June #Baby

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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.

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

#Confessions

 

Forgive me bloggers for these things about me you should know…

#1-When you follow me I send silent wishings of well-being to your gravatar.

#2-I purposely receive the computer generated follower notice so I can e-mail salutations that you’ll never see. Because they are labeled do not reply. But I issue you a personal thank you and hit send.

#3-At the same time my overwhelming energy of wellness to humanity holds me fiercely in a death grip. Even if you post something that I may not agree on. I will like it for the spirit in which it has been written.

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Why do I write this needless article you wonder? Is is needless? Well, as I sit weekly and return dozens of emails that are absorbed by space, I thought, “is this weird?” From previous entries you know I am a strange-bird. Cue adorable picture.

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Image courtesy of google free images

My humor as staid as my personality, boring and yet full of life. Smiling, I walk on.

What is the purpose? Well, I will tell you what it is for me. I cannot help the urge to spread hope, wishes of well-being and genuine love throughout the universe. You see my daily ramblings @upliftingquotesdaily.com. A vocation to which I dedicate the heart of who I am, wholly.

There is such need for us to stop and appreciate. Ourselves, in this breath and since we have pressures unbounded piled atop of us at breakneck speeds, I hope to do so momentarily for you. A twinkle passing over you in the wind. Positive streams of light and guided energy released and headed to your front door or inbox.

I appreciate you. I care. You matter.

We are all connected in spirit and strength, together we do make a difference. Believe in all things great. You, yours, what can be.

Life’s pressures breed vulnerability. Every day we are fed negativity through various forms of influence and media, everything awful in life for its sensational appeal. And easy to roll into. A flea-ridden blanket riddled with holes offering us misguided comfort. That should be our warning, easy, life is not easy, love is not easy, we as beings are not easy. Forced to believe we are not worthy, but we are.

Take control, project light, move forward, write on! ❤ Jessica

Ps…Does this have anything to do with writing as this blog was intended? Absolutely the bleep not! Breathe pretty flowers, dance.

 

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