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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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

Dumped, Dumpee, Duped? Call it what you will…

Relationships…who needs em?

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Yet, we all do right?

If you are not of the A variety you usually fall into the B category, dumper, duper…sleazebag. Fear not, there is the beauty of karma, irony & fate.

Are these common situations any different in the universe of Writing?

The idea behind American Writers was to expose the underbelly of the journey, our trials, our frustrations, our moments of complete failure, scratches, and occasional success. Instead of being amongst the slew of Writers who claim to be Writers and know everything about Writing …so very much more (yes, I used-so, very & much) than the other 3 gazillion and 4 Writers  (no supporting research data) in the world of Writerdom.

Jeesh, Sally calm down. Not only do I hear you, I feel you sister, but 1st let me bow.

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So what’s the deal with critique groups? Either they are of a higher echelon that you are unworthy of attending or members suck what they can until the group no longer serves their purpose and move on. To where? I believe we still inhabit the same plot structure.

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Ummm, really?

The greatest advice is “be your own cheerleader,” because we have to, yet, there are those few who fall victim to their own great marketing strategies. Even the humble play at being humble to get continued positive strokes. Yikes…

The brilliance of the “CG” situation is enlightening. We all falsely believe WE are the better Writer. And, being amongst the ton is helpful. We are different people, voices, and points of view. Each lends a hand in improving each other in whichever state we find our current WIP. Work in progress, use your words, acronyms don’t make you sound smarter and it’s freaking annoying.

Is there a graceful way to ditch a peer group and move on? Without using flowery bullshit that grownups can decipher? And exactly what is being said to those left behind? I rock, you suck, later dudes.

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We can see you, we have this thing called the internet.

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Brilliant, NOT mine, #FML

Twenty-eight months ago I began the quest for my personal holy grail. I’ve met great people, industry professionals, received the worst advice given to mankind (that I inhaled) and spent thousands of dollars as every other would-be, wanna-be Writing genius. I have a collection of 4 blogs, 2 of which believe I am dead, too many social media accounts to keep up with and am the proud owner of multiple pen names. I have walked away from critique groups and, recently, have been walked out on.

Bound to happen, right?

The decerning piece is when I give my word to writers who have asked something if me, I follow through to the best of my ability and while I don’t have the whole shit and caboodle figured out, I will.

Only the best-Truly-Sour grapes and all

Write On-<3 Jess

Death 2 a “Pantser”

Woe to thee, mine heart, mine breath, all known to me as whimsy and flair.

I hear you speak in words yet to be spoken, I see you clear.

Vision is fancy, a perilous play to the sanity of one.

Infected is this mind, fool—perhaps, is what I have become.

Victim, I refuse to fall.

I choose your light to flow from mine hand and gasp life as you have asked me to pen.

Survive—my dearest of friends, for expression has meaning.

Your story deserves to be written down.

CUE-MICHAEL SEMBELLO “MANIAC.”

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Now that I have my ‘purply-ness’ out of the way, I welcome you once again to Thursday, the day after the proposed marked posting for IWSG, but none-the-less an entry in a just cause we writer types should acknowledge.

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Thank You, Mr. Cavanaugh, and I bid you, yet, another, pardon for my tardiness. Friends, colleagues, individuals known as my peers, I present to you the label me NOT post.

In the beginning, I understood writers were categorized into 2 groups-“Pantser or Planner.” You were one or the other—you could not be both. So I fell for it.

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-CLARIFICATION-

Let us define “Pantser” straight from the valuable archives of the Urban Dictionary…

A NaNoWriMo term that means that you ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ when you are writing your novel. You have nothing but the absolute basics planned out for your novel.


This outlook towards writing is often opposed by the ‘planner,’ who knows exactly what is going to happen when it will happen, and where it will happen. There is often enmity between the two types of writers.

Another pantser?! Seriously, GTFO.

Truly their words-I am less inclined to believe it comes directly from NaNoWriMo..but who am I? My understanding is that even the basics need not be planned. The specifics flow their blue+red=purple path as each sentence is written. Everything naturally falls into place, and you’re tasked with the minimal effort of showing up.

We will then turn to their term of “Planner.”

An underpaid, overworked employee that takes endless shit and abuse, while trying to organize work for thankless assholes that don’t want to do the work in the first place.

(Okay, that did not turn out so well but I found it hugely entertaining. Dear Urban Dictionary, you slay me.)

We could try the other famous terminology of “Plotter.”

A person who plots.
A person who plots on a regular basis.
A person who has indeed plotted before.
A person who is currently plotting.

Now we are getting a little closer.

#WTF am I talking about? Let me not digress, I believed I was a “Pantser,” and at the time the thought was liberating. I belonged to TYPE 1 or TYPE 2 of writing academia.

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Reality-

I was a fish out of water in the endless sea of my scribbles

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Word vomit, my chosen mastered skill. After all, I have no problems sitting down and typing the whole of the live-long day. These voices inside keep me well entertained, and a gazillion thoughts and storylines fill me. I write well and say nothing at the same time.

Cue “Taps.”

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Advice often speaks that writing takes years to develop, the understanding of craft, your individual voice, definition. I have 4 works finished, but not finished. And one day something resonated—zapping my staggering mass, “Aha!”

Cue prayers for this person. (not literally me)

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We have to be neither. All is for not if we don’t have THE master plan, and not the one we originally imagined, but a working, real, tangible guide that will guarantee results if indeed this is what we are after.

Hello, my friend Mr. Larry Brooks and his friend Mr. Art Holcomb. You both may have just saved my writing life. No longer shall I make more difficult what is already half way there. Thank you for this post. (Every writer MUST read, honestly, the ultimate in time well spent.)

When I see you in Starbucks I look forward to giving you my answer.

http://storyfix.com/tragedy-see-starbucks-every-day-new-post-art-holcomb

And I Write On-<3 Jess

PS…have I ever mentioned I would find great satisfaction in being re-blogged by Chris the story reading ape? (A 2017 resolution of mine) Another great writer’s resource blog!