#TheEnd

Gosh, itching to insert Napolean Dynomite meme, what does that mean to you? A frightening thought for writers or beyond.

For this, the first week in July of 2018, The Insecure Writer’s Group posted on the glorious day of Tuesday, the 3rd…I, however, am posting on the enigmatic, as the enigma I am, day of Friday the 6th which means in seven more days Friday the 13th, and Jason, shall arrive… & precisely 6 days after, as in the 6th, turns into Thursday the 19th of July where a very cool writerly opportunity shall be hitting the #twitter #feeds. Yes, #BigBrother will also be holding eviction that night.

But, #Writers #Authors #Wordsmithy #Friends this could be an #AmazeBalls #Opportunity for #pitching that #manuscript! (2 #agents, NOT out the door, into the fire or even against your siblings head…) Just make sure it’s ready & varnished to a high-level spit-shined gleam that would make your Nana proud. Your elbow should be aching if, in all honesty, you’re ready. Joke, I do not.

Click here for more information. Thank you Insecure Writers Support Group!

Will I attend said event, “Oh’ hell no.” Not this year…I have attended #PitMad, a quarterly event, once before & my claim to fame came in a full #MS request, but alas, I sucked and rightly ’twas my 1st completed work lacking due diligence as an understudy should devote and fell full frontal. I’ve learned to suck-up said suckiness with a smile and thankfully my teeth still intact. All I’d genuinely accomplished, at that point, was proving to myself I could pen those magical two words #TheEnd and since then I’ve done so three more times, each with a little more flair than the last.

Pleased to meet you…

* hope you guess my name *

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.

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…

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.)

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.

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

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

(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?

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.

 

Write On ❤ Jess!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

This just happened…#007 & #ThePro

There is no way in a million years you will be able to guess who I stumbled into?!

No…

No….

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

Relationships…who needs em?

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.

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.

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.

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

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

Okay its MEME time

 

“Confessions Of a Retail Whore”

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