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!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Insecure Writers Support Group Badge Continue reading

Okay its MEME time

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“Confessions Of a Retail Whore”

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If you have ever worked for the public—as a food server, a store clerk, or a person behind a counter providing a smile and assistance for people who neglect to respect you and might give you a rotten time, a great book has come on the scene by Jess E. I would recommend it highly for saying exactly what you thought and couldn’t say aloud for fear of losing your job.

Jess E remains anonymous to protect their identity and “tell it like it is!” I laughed out loud as did my husband.
Some of you might recognize yourself in customer interactions, Oops. If you are demanding of perfection from sellers or service providers, it might not be as pleasant to read as it will be for the rest of us who have walked in Jess E’s shoes.
Putting the shoe on the other foot might do you, your son, your daughter, your spouse a lesson in how to treat others. I wished I had had this booklet lying around when I was still working. Super gift for the lunchroom!
Check it out on Amazon.

A blurb from a reader!
Write On! ❤ Jesse

#SportsReport #SportsEdition-a single perspective-from the parking lot-across the street and down the alley…#Wtf

First, I would like to start out by saying I did not get paid for this post. (Okay, maybe, I did, just like the millions of other folks selling out to earn a paycheck.) Yet, this is a simpleton’s view from a galaxy far, far away.

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Professionally, I don’t get it.

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How is this team still affiliated and not booted from the NFL?

Why are we supporting a culture averaging 60+billion dollars a year? The beauty industry comes in a close 2nd at around 55+billion. (See OM’s fashion blog.)

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And we wonder why we are fucked. Is there really nothing else in this world we could be spending our hard earned money on? Maybe on a class in ethical behavior and morality? Athletes are made out to be heroes, not humans, [many times paid handsomely and believe in those computer generated, manipulated stats.)

‘Ladies & Gentlemen’ our children are watching.

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Could the nightly news have a segment on “how to be a better person? Tools for achieving spiritual ‘God’ status?” After looking at this list of felons, just in the NFL, I am sure you would agree the nation could use such. (Oh’ wait maybe that syndicate is considered Dr.Phil or Oprah.)

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-All of this just makes us look like

 ID 10 T’s-

I thought, at first, this would be funny, poking fun at Tom Brady and Tony Romo-my all time dislikes, hailing Joe Montana, the Manning boys, cursing the fate of Tim Tebo, but now I am disgustingly depressed. Close your eyes OM, I found this… and I close the chapter on my excitement in running a sports segment. Everything is “rigged.”

Before I let you go here is one of my favorite clips in the whole of my NFL watching career.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=6&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjCsMLvh7vRAhVLsVQKHfCdBWAQtwIIKzAF&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DeVO93amUv7Y&usg=AFQjCNGS3yMAeTkfugU7vTzKhte7h-R80A

Sorry, Troy.

Why can’t we #BeLove #ShowLove, real people, reporting real news, NO sensationalizing…

Write On…Send Sunshine-<3 Jess