I am realized … the ecstatic culmination of a 2-star rating

It really is a sad situation when your blog has been so long ignored you fear remembering its password. First, I’d like to apologize to my deserted page with its catchy name and fun posts reaching out to other writers in similar situational star-rocketing highs and equally plummeting despairs.

(remember, I post daily @ sunshinesent.com)

Without further ado let me ‘slash’ this month of February 2019 @ Insecure Writers Support Group up, writing 4 the first time this year and posting ON time, because I know the 200 other monthly contributors have missed me.

(I’ve missed you too. It’s true, I do! I do, silly, I do.)

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Bringing me out of hibernation would be attributed to the quarterly rounds I make to my KU page, pathetic…I hear you…kindly say nothing, where ecstatically and solemnly, I discovered attaining the highest of writer rankings with a well thought and non-stellar rating by a consumer.

Ecstatic…because I felt realized, proud to wear the badge of the misunderstood.

Solemn... upon realization 1.5 of those stars were lost due to no fault of my own and remedied by re-printing, naggy binding glue & such. The other star and a half, accepting equal blame, discounted due to my perpetuating cheesy prose and writing nonesense, contributor spelling. (Spell-checker, ugly red underscore, sincerely, quit yelling at me.)

I’m not posting to whimper about the public berating, but to pose a question? One we’ve heard throughout our writing careers freshly born or exaggerated. If you haven’t been privy to this blight of wisdom then mission, I mean, listen…very carefully.

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*Should we publish before we are ready just because we can?

Who/what is our determiner? Would you really hear over the excitement to push enter?

My next query…

*Should we UN-publish thus we’ve previously published poorly? 

Because now we know better, one, ten, thirty-nine years later? or do a full rework?

As you’ve known me, I’m the girl who gets over-excited and jumps in both feet first. Perhaps, I flip over and end up looking like a goose/duck’s hiney, but effort and stamina should be considered, right? (Not drowning, I assure you.)

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The work I published is not a novel, merely a collection of stanzas and deliberated art from Send Sunshine. As the years have progressed my posts and artwork have developed. Each piece dutifully agonized over with a disgustingly palpable amount of thought, energy, and love.

*Does that mean we should bury our beginnings underground or venture forward w/ extreme caution? 

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The craft of writing is selective, individual, eclectic in the way each author chooses its presentation. An understanding maybe other artists recognize and give credit or leave, while the general population…not really so much. Though for an accurate translation it is, our, or in this case, my, full responsibility to relay.

In hindsight, did I say that? I did, lol…I believe re-addressing my back cover is in tall order, detailing the purpose of my blog and brand Send Sunshine for a detailed understanding of their purchase.

Re-imagined digital photography with heartfelt quotesSend Sunshine is a lifestyle dedicated to positive affirmations, self-empowerment and the promotion of spreading kindness.

What about those novels? I’ll tell you this…whoever said it takes thousands of writing hours before you write well is 100% correct. I feel closer than I ‘ve ever been before. Last years project is near its second draft completion. Titillating. Every other story is still knocking around my brain. So many stories, so little time.

Regardless…Write On! ❤ Jess

 

PS…here is the posse of peoples you’ve been searching for, thank you IWSG!

PSS…if you take direction they actually give you a monthly writing prompt…sorry team.

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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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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Raised by Wolves…a child’s interpretive

I have recently been diagnosed with an “overactive brain-stem.” I tell you this because I find the diagnosis hilarious, and not a slap-the-knee…holding-my-belly… bent-over kind of funny, after spending thousands of dollars on specialists from allergists to ENTs to neurologists and so on.

I should have quit after hearing the term “highly reactive.”

I’m not hyper-active, but my mind leans heavy on overdrive. I wish my physicality had the tendencies to stretch in the same direction. The funnier thing is I am the calmest person I know…unless you really piss me off then I will never let that shit go.

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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

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#5 Ways a #Male Protagonist/Hero Knows his Romance Author is Cheating on Him #RatedMature

#1 His document file remains untouched … 

In the beginning it was a passionate love affair, there were not enough hours in the day for “said typist” to satisfy their needs, to spend every minute solely on him, slaving, slathering, salivating as the story hit the page in graphic detail. Oh’ the fervor was electric, his character and energy, building, growing, escalating and wait, excuse me, what’s that? Yeah…exactly, crickets! Where the heck did that #$!@&%*go? Hello? Author, we are not finished here!Awkward-silence-e1378058433778.jpg

#2 His creator accidentally calls him by a different name …

When, finally “said storyteller” opens the word file lamenting lame excuse after excuse, having not been able to find his specified folder, mislabeling the work, or worse, accidentally deleted their idiosyncratic draft. How could this have happened to their supposed one-of-a-kind, spiritually satisfying soul-mate, “I will die without you” connection? Suddenly typing starts again at a furious pace, rushing down the poetic highway at lush breakneck speeds when his name is written wrong. Hans??? Who the H – E double L is Hans? My name is George!

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