Em-Musing

DON'T BE STILL MY HEART

2012-02-14T07:21:00.001-05:00

I Writing
What can I say?
Writing is in my blood....
It pumps through my heart...
And in my veins.
Whether published or not...
As long as my heart beats...
I will always write...
I am a writer.
And as I send out more queries...
I send them with love...
For this craft.
Happy Valentine's Day!
So?
What' makes your heart beat?
What's your love?

Always, Em-Musing
P.S. somehow the animation of the beating hearts stopped.
Dear God! Hope that's not a harbinger!

BLUEBIRD OF QUERYNESS

2012-02-13T06:16:00.000-05:00

A bluebird signifies happiness...

My e-queries are flying off my laptop.

This bird is happy.

How are your writing projects going?

Always, Em-Musing

THESE LIPS DON'T LIE

2012-02-10T07:14:00.001-05:00

I’m Em, the voice of Leigh’s blog…
        In my defense…
        It’s not my fault Leigh mismanages her time…
        Take yesterday for instance…
        After she got back from yoga (2 hours)…
        She made yogurt from scratch…
        Actually, I should report her to Mexican Customs.
        She used live cultures she got from her friend back
       In the States and when Customs questioned her,
        She said it was face cream Such a liar.
        She then made granola…
        Checked her email and replied to a few…
        Paid two of credit cards online…
        Talked with her contractor about her retreat…
        And then—
        Uh oh! She’s coming to the laptop….
       All I’m saying is that I, her blog am not the only distraction…
        That gets in the way of her sending out queries.
        So don’t believe all of her bull…
        And shhh! Please don’t tell her I told you so.

        Always, Em-Musing
P.S. OK, TO BE FAIR TO HER, SHE DID SEND OUT TWO E-QUERIES

STEP AWAY FROM THE BLOG

2012-02-09T06:10:00.001-05:00

It's 4:30 in the morning...
My conscience is still in bed snoring...
I want to post but I—
WHAT are you doing?
Dear God, you scared me!
No blogging this morning. Submissions, remember?
Look conscience I sent out—
Step away from the blog, Leigh. Now!
Alright already, I'm going, I'm going.
(Damn!)
I heard that.
arrgghh
Heard that too.

SUBMISSIONS STILL IN PROGRESS
Always, Em-Musing

I'M DARK NOW

2012-02-08T07:33:00.000-05:00

SUBMITTING IN PROCESS...
But my little brain still wants to post...
My fingers are itching to—
"GET OFF YOUR BLOG AND SUBMIT!"
(said my conscience to my brain)
Alright already!
Bye.

Always, Em-Musing

AN AWARD MADE ME DO IT!

2012-02-07T07:21:00.002-05:00

I'm supposed to be dark this month..
My blog that is...
In order to give me time to submit to agents...
But how could I not respond...
To this gracious blog award given to me by:
The gracious Ayda Recknagel at:
http://ateapotata.blogspot.com/2012/02/yay-award.html
Thank you Ayda...

To accept I've agreed to:
Thank the person who gave it to me and link back to their blog (click on Kristi's name above and check her out if you don't already know her. You won't be sorry.)
Copy and paste the award to my blog. Choose 5 blogs as a way of paying it forward and let them know they've been awarded by commenting on their blog. Hope my 5 people pay it forward by accepting and sharing the love with 5 bloggers they love in kind...
So...
Here are my choices:
BLANK...BLANK...BLANK...BLANK...BLANK
Seriously!...
I can't find anyone else with 200 or less followers.
2nd EDITED UPDATE HERE! I FOUND ONE:
http://jennaquentin.blogspot.com
http://farawayeyes1.blogspot.com/2012/02/bummer.html
OK, but really what does less than 200 followers say about me?
Am I not playing the blogging game right?
But 'll keep looking though.
And just for the record...
I have been awarded other blog awards...
But because I'm NOT using a Bloggie "template"...
Bloggie won't allow me to paste cool things on my blog...
Believe me, I've tried.
So...
Tomorrow my blog will go dark...
That is...
If Bloggie lets me.
But I'm still gonna keep commenting...
On all you guy's blogs though.
See you on your blog.

Always, Em-Musing

ON BEING SUBMISSIVE

2012-02-06T06:54:00.000-05:00

First thing this morning…
I’d like to thank my new followers...and old too.
Second, I’d like to thank…
The last agent that rejected me…
Because it was a nice rejection.
“You seem to be a very capable writer with a strong voice,
but I don’t often handle novels like this so really worry I’m
not the right choice for you – sorry.”
Capable writer? Strong voice?
Uh, yeah! I’ll take that rejection as a positive…
And use it to make me feel more confident…
When I query again and know that my manuscript….
Will eventually match up with the right agent.
Third, and last…
My thoughts on rejection…
Although the process of querying feels brutal…
It’s nothing (at least for me) compared to the rejections…
I used to submit myself weekly—from auditions...
When I was a full-time on-camera talent.
First came the call…
I'd dress the part...
And drive to the Detroit area 50 - 80 miles away, depending.
After being handed a script…
I’d rehearse my little heart out for a few minutes.
When my name was called…
I’d stand in front of directors and producers…
And then perform my little heart out.
My odds of winning the gig?
I lost eight out of ten auditions.
My agent would later fill me in:
“You were the wrong type…
Too old, too young…
You reminded the director of his ex-wife…
Yada, yada, yada."
And sometimes I never knew the yada, yada...

But I knew the odds going in.

And while I didn’t like being rejected, I understood the process.

At least now…

With querying literary agents and publishers…

I can sit in my comfy chair, in my comfy clothes…

Sans make-up and done-up do…

And submit at my leisure.

Yeah, getting rejections still suck…

But I know the odds. And it’s all subjective.

And why you ask did I need to preach?

Because for the month of February…

My blog is going “dark”…

And I’ll be submitting my little heart…

And when the rejections start coming in…

Let’s hope I can keep the subjectivity.

And if I can't? Feel free to verbally smack me.
So?

What about you?

Have you made peace with rejections?

Or?

Ever have a job that was worse than getting rejections?

What was it?

Always, Em-Musing

P.S. While I won’t be posting, I will be commenting

on other’s as often as I can.

And....Pardon. Bloggie just went nuts with my format

2012-02-01T07:10:00.000-05:00

I felt like a pioneer….

Moving to Mexico and making a new life.

That is...

Until I came across this postcard…

That I bought years ago in Virginia City, NV.

Obviously…

NOTHING about my move…

Compares to what these people endured.

I’m in awe!

I couldn’t have done it.

First...the shoes…

That poor woman trekked across the country with one pair.

My feet hurt strolling in the mall for a few hours.
Then there’s the privacy issue...
And intimacy...
And odors...

And let’s not forget weather, wild animals…

And Indians!

While some were helpful. Others murderous!

And really? How much jerky and beans can one eat?

My food dilemma when traveling?

Spilling my Starbucks latte while boarding the plane.

And I wonder how many precious possessions...
She had to leave behind...
Because they wouldn't all fit in the wagon?
No, I couldn’t have done it…

Though the pioneering spirit is in my genes…

My grandmother came over from Sweden to NY…

All by herself…

Not speaking English…

At eighteen!

OK, she was a governess to a Swedish family in Brooklyn…

So it wasn't like she was living on the streets...
But still.

So?

Do you have the pioneering spirit?

Would you have trekked from coast to coast?

What about your ancestors?
And just I'd let you know...
That I've been extremely busy packing and storing...
To make my final move to Mexico...
So I've been absent from commenting...
On everyone's blog.
But I'll be back in business next week.
Promise.

Always, Em-Musing

PITCHING

2012-01-27T07:17:00.000-05:00

Not much blog fodder this morning…

Guess my mind…

Is cluttered thinking of all the stuff in my apartment…

Yet to pack…

And even more things…

Yet to pitch and—.

“Yo Leigh! What about me?”

“Huh? Who’s talking to me? My conscience?

“No air brain. I’m your manuscript.”

“Manuscript?”

“The one you started pitching last year then quit.”

“Well, um…you see…I’ve been busy—”

“Oh, buzy smizy. What about pitching me next month?”

“February? Well yes... yes I—”

“You got a killer query now and most agents want e-queries.”

“Well, yes, I know that and—”

“By the way that query letter took way too long to write.”

“Yes…yes it did, but to my defense—”

“So what’ll be your excuse this year? Too many margaritas?"

“No, not at all. I don’t drink that much—”

“Look, I’m sick of just existing only in your computer…

Get me out of here into the hands of an agent. i want to be

published! Comprende?”

“Si… yes…absolutely. Definitely!”

“So what are you doing sitting here talking with me, air brain?

Get to work! You gotta be out of by the 31^st! Do what you

have to do, make your move to Mexico—then pitch me.”

OK!

So?

What's your conscience bugging you about this year?

Got any projects still on the back burner?

Always, Em-Musing

SOME IT UP

2012-01-26T08:09:00.000-05:00

This whole week…

I’m surrounded by my possessions…

That I’m either giving or throwing away…

And keeping only some things that are essential...

To start my new life in Mexico.

I’ve been trying to be philosophical about the process…

At first it felt like my life was being reduced…

Because according to one definition…

Reduce means…

The amount by which something is lessened…

So it could be said…

That the "some" of my life has gotten less.

But in cooking…

The definition of reduce means…

The intensifying of flavor by boiling liquid away.

So it could be said…

That the "some" of my life has intensified…

By reducing it to only the essential possessions.

So?

What do you think?

Is the some…

Less or more?

And what is the some of your life?

Always, Em-Musing

CLAP OF THE HEART

2012-01-25T06:46:00.001-05:00

Monday morning—4:30…

While making coffee…

FLASH

A bright light all around me...

Dear God!

Stroke?

Eye flash?

Car headli—

BOOM

My heart literally jolted in my chest…

Dear God!

Terrorist attack?

Armageddon?

Then all was quiet.

I stood there shaking…

What in the hell?

It turned out to be…

A lightning bolt and a thunder clap….

That’s it, that’s all…just a big one of each…

And soft rain.

But before I could discern all that…

My mind raced…

What next?

I’ve heard that when people die…

Their life plays out before them…

But that’s their past….

They’ve already done it so they can see it.

But at that moment…

I didn’t see my past…

My future played out before me.

Though I couldn’t see it…

I felt it…

A sadness of things yet to be…

My grandkids growing up...

Me, a published author…

My retreat up and running.

And then…

KAPOW

I thought struck me...

What if this lightning bolt and thunder boomer…

Was my wake-up call?

Get your ass in gear, girl!

Get this move to Mexico finalized!

Do what you have to, to make that future reality.

Get those submissions out…

Figure out your marketing for that retreat…

And…

Only one spiced chai tea with whipped cream a day…

Before your rear is too fat to fit in an airplane seat…

And you won’ be able to see your grandkids graduate!

So?

Ever have a wake-up call?

What was it?

Always, Em-Musing

PREFIX ME UN

2012-01-24T06:35:00.000-05:00

i don’t
know if

normal

is all

it’s

cracked up

to be...

So?

Does normal...

Ever feel crazy...

To you?

Always, Em-Musing

ILL LUMINATING

2012-01-23T05:39:00.000-05:00

So?

Ever see Poltergeist?

Remember when that tiny lady Tangina said:

“Cross over children. Go to the light.”

And I’m sure you’ve heard stories…

About people who’ve had near death experiences…

They always claim they saw a wonderful, glorious light.

Well it got me wondering…

When it’s my time…

And I hear whoever says it say…

“Come to the light Leigh. Come to the light.”

Um…I might have to think about that…

Because exactly what kind of light is over there?

If it isn’t sun, moon, candle or incandescent...

I’d just as soon stay where I can control my lighting.”

You see, I’m extremely affected by light…

It’s one of the reasons…

I’m moving away from the Midwest…

I need sunshine!

I can’t take drear and gloom—on end!

And it’s not just natural light that affects me…

I won’t shop in a certain grocery store…

Because of its harsh overhead fluorescent lighting.

I prefer certain restaurants that have soft ambient light.

LED? Maybe in Times Square, but not my Christmas lights.

And I’m a holdout on CFL’s— way too harsh, too bright.

So?

Are you affected by certain lighting?

Or by lack of sunshine?

What kind of light do you prefer?

How drastic are your measures to get good lighting?

Or am I the only one with…

Badlightaphobia?

Always, Em-Musing

P.S. Maybe it explains why I chose yellow as my background color for my blog?

ALPHA ON TOP

2012-01-20T06:53:00.001-05:00

I confessed…

Yesterday at coffee with some of my writer peeps…

I’ve been watching reality TV lately...

“Manly” reality TV to be exact…

Like Ax Men.

(catch that water moccasin, Swamp Man—shoot that pistol!)

I also confessed...

That on a snowy blustery Sunday last year…

I watched back-to-back episodes of Deadliest Catch.

(oh captain, my captain!)

I don’t know why I felt ashamed…

Confessing my viewing pleasure…

I mean—it’s not like I’ve been watching porn…

(Although there’s nothing wrong with watching naked men)

And it’s not like these manly men are much to look at…

(I swear I don’t picture any of these guys naked)

Because let’s face it…

I would never date any of these guys.

(or imagine them on top of me. OMG! Where is your mind going Leigh?)

“It’s because they’re alpha males,” Connie said.

“Yes, of course!” I giggled. “alpha males.”

(obviously there’s a category for these rough 'n' tumble dudes)

“Stats show,” Connie said,” that the biggest audience

of Deadliest Catch are women forty and over.

(Phew! I’m not the only weirdo woman watching manly shows)

Well, the topic changed…

Before I could open up a discussion on alpha males…

But that didn’t stop me from wondering…

What exactly is it about these manly men in manly shows…

That make women like me watch?

(I do prefer the manly men with more teeth)

And then I wondered about alpha males in novels…

And are there guidelines alpha males have to follow?

(probably never to change a diaper or watch a chick flick)

So?

What’s your take or definition of an alpha male?

Do your novels include alpha males?

Do any of you watch these manly shows?

Which ones?

And if you’re a guy—are you an alpha?

(oh please, please, please tell me you are)

Always, Em-Musing

NOTHING TO DECLARE

2012-01-19T06:46:00.001-05:00

If you’ve ever travelled out of the country…

You know you have to pass through customs and immigration…

And declare things like…

Are you bringing in pathogens?

(do germs in my runny nose count?

Seeds?

(is the peanut at the bottom of my purse considered a seed?)

Have you been around farm animals?

(I did drive by a goat going to the ruins in Coba)

Are you carrying more than ten thousand dollars?

(ha! ha! ha'! ha! ha! ha! ha!)

Then, you must declare all the gifts and items you bought…

Just in case they can tax you.

(are four plastic penguins I bought for my grandkids taxable?)

I’ve done the "declaring" ritual a lot lately…

And feel confident they’re not going to “catch” me …

Doing something I’m not supposed to do.

But just a few days ago…

I was standing in front of the U.S. immigration agent…

When she looks down at my passport…

(yeah, yeah, I know...bad hair day)

And asks, “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an author,” I blurted out.

(Lord! I’ve never called myself an author before, always a writer)

“What do you write?”

“Novels.”

“What kind?”

“Humorous women’s fiction.”

(and one horror novel that I scared my poor neighbor with)

“What have you published?”

“Um, nothing yet.”

Just then, I was sure armed guards were going to rush in…

Escort me to a room…

Push me in a chair and pound their fist on the table and say,

“You said you make a living being an author?”

“Well, um…you see…I uh…”

“But you’ve published NOTHING?”

“But I’m trying to get published. And I won a writing contest.”

“Do you know what we do to people who lie?”

“But I’ve written six novels. I swear!”

“Guards! Take this wannabe author away!”

So?

Do you call yourself a writer or an author?

And is there a difference?

Always, Em-Musing

STOOPING LOW

2012-01-18T06:59:00.000-05:00

How do you scare a little78-year-old lady?

Have her read my manuscript, AZAEL’S LOT.

And why would I scare this little old lady?

Because she asked for it! I swear she did!

OK, OK……

I failed to mention it was a horror story…

A dark religious horror story.

And yeah, yeah I know…

What in the hell kind of genre is that, right?

But that’s the best genre it fits into.

Well, the little old lady is my neighbor, Harriet.

If you remember from previous posts…

Harriet read my current manuscript…

IS IT NOW YET? - .humorous women’s fiction...

And we frequently discuss books we’re reading.

So there we were a few weeks ago...

On her stoop talking books again…

And somehow we got on the subject of Jewish lore…

The Pseudepigrapha, and other ancient writings…

And that’s when I told her that my manuscript...

AZAEL’S LOT, includes all of that.

“Oh, I’d love to read it, Leigh.”

So I printed off the whole enchilada…

And gave it to her before I left for Mexico a few weeks ago.

Then, just yesterday Harriet called…

“Oh, Leigh! I couldn’t finish reading your manuscript…

All the blood! The filthy rituals! What those witches did

to that boy! I just didn’t want those visions in my head.

I was afraid of getting nightmares. I’m sorry. I thought

the story was about angels, not witches, demons and Satan.”

“But there is a redeeming factor in the end, Harriet.”

“Sorry dear, I just can’t read anymore.”

So?

That fact that I scared Harriet…

Is that a good thing?

After all, horror is meant to scare…

And it's not like she's never read about kids getting killled...

She read the HUNGER GAMES trilogy...

Or, am I a stooper...the lowest of the low?

And...

Have any suggestions of a genre...

That's better than dark religious fiction?

Always, Em-Musing

LAST LEG, STANDING

2012-01-17T06:54:00.000-05:00

In Cancun airport…

Waiting to board…

The plane’s computer system went down…

(much better than the plane going down with me on it)

What was supposed to be a 5 hour flight…

Turned into a 38 hour ordeal instead.

But as any seasoned traveler knows…

You’ve got to be prepared for these situations…

Credit cards…

Books or mags…

Stash of healthy snacks…

A laptop and/or some device for music...

And most important—a mind…

That can easily tune in happy creative thoughts...

And tune out reality.

And my mind did tune in and tune out...

Too bad my feet couldn’t do the same!

After being re-routed...

Schlepping through three airport terminals…

And going through three security checkpoints…

My feet tripled in size…

(is this what’s meant by the rule of three?)

And that’s when it occurred to me…

Someone should invent expandable shoes.

I’m not kidding! Think of it…

Shoes should have a function mode…

That automatically adjusts to the swollen feet inside...

Because no foot (or me)…

Should ever have to endure...

Almost 38 hours of nonstop wear.

So?

What’s the worst your feet have endured?

And what do you when you travel…

To keep from going nuts?

Always, Em-Musing

STILL HINKY

2012-01-13T09:40:00.000-05:00

No post today...
Blogger is still acting weird...
Sabotaging my format.
Arrrgghh!
Anyway...
I'll catch up with y'all on the State side...
I'm leaving tomorrow to wrap-up my life in Ohio.
Come February, I'll be here full-time in Akumal, Mexico.
Have a great weekend...
And perhaps Blogger will behave next week for me.

Always, Em-Musing

COINKYDINK?

2012-01-12T07:41:00.000-05:00

Many religions and philosophical beliefs believe…

There are no coincidences…

But I believe they’re referring to life…

Not blogs…

But yesterday Blogger proved me wrong.

My blog post gently poked fun…

At word verifications on other people’s blogs.

I felt confident that no one would really take offense.

But I was thinking people, not Internet blog host.

But after I posted yesterday…

I was all ready to do my next favorite bloggie thing…

And that is comment on other people’s blogs…

But when I went to do it…

I got a message saying I wasn’t following anyone.

What?

All the people I follow—GONE?!

(I really think ?! should be a new punctuation mark)

Yup! Zip! Nada! Zilch!

And Blogger wouldn’t give me back my followers…

Till late yesterday.

So?

Was removing my followers Blogger's act of retribution…

For making fun of one of their features?

Hmm?

And has Blogger ever buggered you? Or Wordpress?

But the bigger, more philosophical question is:

Do you believe there are no coincidences?

And if so, why?

Always, Em-Musing

SUFFER THE FINGERS

2012-01-11T07:40:00.000-05:00

NOTE: The following is not meant as an insult

Gdorit, shrill, tootlec,

Thisssis, Esmeo, lollgo, grovebec

Nowantee, cannomakmee,

Nonmi, Idontlikee. jekli,wooils,

qonhy, lezhy,toomany, wordeees

Pleeky, vdlgi, skgill, leesig

Cjfcku, inmxs, bropl, swipet,

Treiminii, cockoboodle, titysilly,

What’s that, you ask?

You can’t make out what I wrote?

Well, neither can I.

You see, it’s too early in the morning…

My eyes can’t focus…

And my fingers struggle to write…

My blog?

My W.I.P?

No!

All the Word Verifications…

On other’s blogs.

Is it a security issue?

It couldn’t be…

Because agent blogs don’t have them…

And many author and writer blogs don’t have them.

Plus, don’t spam filters catch weird comments?

I know it makes a blog seem more…well…

I don’t know what it makes seem.

But because I blog and comment very early in the morning…

My brain and fingers…

Just can’t, or don’t want to, type these not-word words.

(ah yes, it's all about me!)

Plus, it takes up valuable time.

So?

If there really is a good reason why…

Word verifications are necessary…

Please tell me…

I don’t want to be a smart aleck, offend anyone…

Or criticize another’s blogs

(well, I think that tortilla has already flipped)

But am I the only one who struggles…

With Word Verifications?

And what exactly do these words verify?

Always, Em-Musing

THE DRAW OF ATTRACTION

2012-01-10T07:27:00.000-05:00

I was thinking this morning while…

Well, no need for details...

Of the type of man I’ve always been intrigued with…

And always...

It’s a bad boy with a sweet heart.

But does this type of man exist?

He does in my novels…

But what about in real life?

Is “bad boy/sweet heart” an oxymoron?

And why is the bad boy bad?

Dysfunction childhood?

Alcohol/ drugs?

Gang member?

Or maybe...

As I like to think of him...

He's just a misunderstood soul...

Who needs someone to love and understand him.

Then there's the flip side of the tortilla...

A good boy with a bad heart.

Have you encountered one of these…

In real life or fiction?

And what’s behind that personality veneer?

Sociopath? Narcisist?

(Hmm? I think I dated a few way back when)

So writers…

And readers…

What kind of guy/hero do you write about or like to read about?

Or…

What kind of guy or gal attracts you in real life?

Always, Em-Musing

OH NURSIE, NURSIE ME

2012-01-09T06:46:00.000-05:00

Ya know…

What I would really like to have in 2012?

A nursie.

Oh, not because I’m sick…

But because I’m sick and tired.

Of constantly putting out vitamins and supplements…

And then forgetting to take them.

Often, after I've been in my office for hours…

I’ll go into the kitchen…

And there on the counter…

Are the two small bowls of pills…

Still sitting, waiting for me to take them.

But by then…

I can’t down them all at once. My stomach couldn't handle it.

See why I need a nursie?

Just like nurses come into a patient's hospital room ...

With little cups of pills right on schedule...

She, or he, would come into my office…

When the time is right and say,

“It’s time to take your pills, Leigh.”

“But I don’t want to take those yucky things!”

“I know dear, but they’re good for you.”

“But they make me wanna puke.”

“Leigh, these pills will make you look and feel younger.”

"Look younger? Oh, all right. But can I have a cookie afterwards?”

“No dear, cookies will make you fat…

And speaking of fat…

You’ve really packed on a few pounds lately…

So I don’t want you buying anymore of those Kettle Chips.”

“But they’re just potatoes, oil and salt! And I love them!”

“If you keep eating those, you’ll be a flubba dub!

And really? How fat do you want to get?

And speaking of fat, it's time get off your fat arse…

And go do some exercises. Come on, let's go! Chop chop!”

See what I mean?

My health would be better if I had a nursie.

(And I'd look younger!)

So? How about you?

Would you like a nursie...

To remind and coax you to do and eat all things healthy?

Or am I the only lazy butt who can't get off of hers?

Or do you already have someone to nursie you?

Always, Em-Musing

HAPPY THREE KINGS DAY!

2012-01-06T08:12:00.000-05:00

Happy Three Kings Day...
Or...
Feliz El Dia de los Tres Reyes Magos.

I've never heard of this holiday or tradition before...
But I guess besides being celebrated here in Mexico...
It's celebrated in many other countries as well.
This is an extension of the Christmas holiday...
And recognizes when three kings visited the baby Jesus and brought gifts.
So today, kids will get lots of gifts.
Also, a cake, similar in concept to a "king" cake for Mardi Gras...
Is eaten that has a plastic baby Jesus in it.

So?
Have you ever heard of or celebrated...
Three Kings Day?

Always, Em-musing

FUSS BUDGET

2012-01-05T07:36:00.001-05:00

I didn’t realize I was so fussy...

Till yesterday..

Yeah, yeah, I’ve complained recently…

About not having the Internet or enough hot water…

While I’m living here in Akumal…

But that’s legit, no? At least the Internet?

But then yesterday, I found the depth of my fussiness…

When I bought a clear 12” ruler…

To use when I make edits to my building plans.

You see, I bought clear on purpose to, well—see through.

OK, I noticed there was a label on the ruler…

But silly me, I assumed the label would come off.

Oh, it did, but the sticky schmeer it left wouldn’t…

Not with water. Not with soap. Not with alcohol…

Or even with scraping it with my fingernail or a knife.

After working on getting the sticky schmeer off for fifteen minutes…

A friend of mine observing me asked, “What’s the big deal?”

And the truth is, I don’t rightly know…

But I was hell bent on getting the sticky schmeer off…

So I could see through ALL of my see-through ruler.

I couldn’t relax, concentrate, or clear my mind…

Of that sticky schmeer.

God! Am I pathetic or what!

Perhaps I have a condition?

Perfectionism?

Hardly. My blog is a perfect example.

(although when I write, I want my manuscripts to be perfect)

Anal rententivness?

Not likely. My cupboards and closets prove otherwise.

(although I am very particular with keeping my writing notes organized)

OCD?

Doubt it. The only repetitive routine I have is writing at 4:30.

Control freak?

Naw. I’m very easy going. I usually go with the flow.

(although I will not let anything interfere when I want to write)

I finally tossed the ruler and went and bought another one…

Without a label.

It is within my budget to pay for a better one.

So?

What is this “I gotta get the sticky schmeer off” behavior?

Quirky? Weird?

Or yikes! What if I'm delusional? And I'm all of the above?

So?

What about you?

Got any quirks?

Writing or otherwise?

Always, Em -Musing

WATER HOARDING

2012-01-04T07:01:00.000-05:00

It’s torture, I tell you! Torture!

What mean fiend would do this?

Especially to a writer!

Right there in the shower…

Right smack in the middle of my creative thoughts…

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Cold water!

How could that be?

This is a new place, hot water is a guarantee!

I’m not even sharing with other residents.

Dripping, fuming…

I traipsed into the utility room to hunt down the culprit.

What the hell?

A Barbie-sized water heater?

Who would do this?

Obviously not a writer/builder.

What were they thinking?

Obviously not about writers.

What's that you say? Water conservation.

Puh!

I’m a writer…

I need WATER. HOT water. LOTS of hot water…

Oh, how will I ever think again?

While I was willing to bring in cable and WiFi…

I’ll have to think about coughing up bucks for a bigger water heater…

And besides, it’s not in my rental agreement.

So in the meantime…

I’m going to have to allocate my water time…

Wash hair, important body parts, shave legs first…

Second, wait for the water heater to fill up again...

And third…

Think creatively HARD and fast.

Oh, the torture! The torture!

So?

What about you?

Are you a shower thinker?

Or where do you do your most creative thinking?

And…

Am I the only one to think not enough hot water is torture?

Always, Em-Musing

STUFF, ME

2012-01-03T06:57:00.000-05:00

Last night I watched the reality show, Hoarders…

And of course I squealed out all the typical comments…

Eeuuww! Disgusting! Gross! OMG—a pile of dirty adult diapers?

My poor brain just couldn’t conjure a path to follow…

Through these people’s minds as to WHY?

I immediately felt smug knowing that I’d never be a hoarder.

But then…

I got to thinking back a few weeks ago…

When I was sorting through my office in my apartment…

Of what to pack for my permanent move here to Akumal,

Mexico

…

And while I am not a hoarder…

I am…

A STUFFER!

No, not junky, disgusting, or duplicate stuff…

But stuff…

Like old issues of writer mags I never read…

Clipped articles I hoped to read, but never did…

Piles of business cards of people I met at writer conferences…

But never contacted…

Papers with new agent names I never followed up on…

Offers in the mail for something I thought I needed…

But never got around to ordering…

And other stuff that doesn’t even have a category…

And all this never-got-around-to stuff…

Took up space in draws, shelves, and parts of my desk.

Well, knowing I couldn’t take most of this stuff with me…

I sorted and pitched. But it was hard!

I felt attached to this stuff...

Even though I've never referred back to any of it.

So?

If I created a new reality show called, Stuffers…

Would your office or writing space qualify you as a stuffer?

Always, Em-Musing

HAPPY HAPPY!

2012-01-02T08:36:00.000-05:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I hope all your New Year's resolutions come true!
Today...
You can find my first post of 2012...
Over at the MVRWA blog...
Hope to see you...
And your comments over there!

Always, Em-Musing

SOUTHERN SHIFT

2011-12-27T06:35:00.000-05:00

I'm off to Akumal, Mexico today...
I'll catch up with my blogging posts...
In 2012...
And the exciting thing about 2012 is...
I'll be living in Akumal when 12.21.12 occurs.
I'm sure you're aware that 12.21.12...
Marks the end of the Mayan calendar...
And many doomsdayers believe...
That the Mayans predicted the end of the world.
The local Mayans laugh at all the hoopla though...
Explaining that this date marks the end...
Of the Mayan long count calendar cycle...
Signifying that the earth....
Will move into its fifth cycle...
Heralding in a new consciousness.
On the other end of the spectrum...
Scientists have proven...
That our solar system...
Has already experienced...
A change in the cosmic energy...
That will continue into 2012..
Causing a shift in the earth's axis...
And affecting changes in temperature, daylight hours...
Winds, and even how the stars appear in the sky.
New Agers also have their spin on this date...
Combining science with spirituality.
So?
What's your take?
What do you think will happen on 12.21.12?

Always, Em-Musing

SLEEPOVER...THE MORNING AFTER

2011-12-26T05:33:00.000-05:00

The grandchildren were nestled, all snug in the bed,

While my stuffed-up sinuses throbbed in my head.

The kiddies slept soundly, reposing quite nice,

While I searched for a hot pack, a cold pack, or ice.

Visions of their evening’s fun danced in their dreams,

While the mess in my apartment, Made me wanna scream!

Look at them now lying all cuddly and cute,

Dear God!

It took twelve hours for the sugar to work its way through!

How precious they look now in their slumber mode,

While I looked like a hag from the under-world.

They’ll wake up all rested and happy too,

While I still have mounds of baking to do!

I pray that the memories they’ll cherish all of their lives,

Will not be last nights refrain they heard a thousand times:

“If you kids don’t settle down this sleepover is OVER!

I swear I’m going to take your little butts home!

No! You CANNOT have another piece of candy Your teeth will rot!”

“Waaaaaaa!”

“Oh, c’mon, now…

Grandma’s sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.

No, I’m not really going to take you home.

Yes, Grandma still loves you.

Here…have another piece of candy….p l e a s e!"

Hope you had a joyous holiday.

Always, Em-Musing

DOWN TIME

2011-12-23T05:33:00.001-05:00

There’s only a ghost a chance…

That anyone will read this post…

With so many absent from the blogosphere now…

But this is a timely tale and I need to tell it.

As many of you may know from previous posts…

I make up and tell ghost stories to my grandkids…

But this story is true. I wouldn’t write it if it wasn’t.

Rewind two days ago…

I was in the vets office, holding my dear cat, Sweetie.

“It’s time, Leigh. You’re doing the right thing.”

I won’t go into the wretchedly sad details…

Because anyone who’s had to put an animal down knows.

But this one detail I’ll share…

Just before the final injection…

I bend forward to Sweetie’s ear and said,

“Come back to me some day, somehow.”

Fast forward to that night…

I’m lying in bed, my pillow wet with tears..

Remembering her cute habits and antics…

Particularly the night last year when the power went out…

My apartment was freezing…

And as always, Sweetie was in bed with me…

But this time instead of sleeping next to me…

She positioned herself above my head, like a cat hat…

Keeping us both warm.

Just then I heard a TICKING…

“What the…?”

Of course my write brain thought—bomb!?

Dismissing that silly notion, I turned on the lights…

And there on my nightstand was my clock ticking—AGAIN!

It hasn’t ticked for four years since the batteries ran out…

And I got a digital clock.

I have no explanation for this.

Can batteries charge up again after four years?

Is that possible?

I like to believe that somehow it’s Sweetie…

But is that possible?

So?

Can you come up with...

A possible explanation?

Always, Em-Musing

DRAGON SEEKING PLEASURE

2011-12-22T06:22:00.002-05:00

I did something in public yesterday…

For the first time in my life…

I pleasured myself.

I know people do this all the time…

But I’ve never had the nerve to do it…

Guess I’ve always been too timid.

I also admit…

That when I did it…

There were strangers all around me….

But because it was in the dark…

I felt comfortable doing this…

I figured no one would pay attention to me…

Because they were getting pleasured too.

I…

Went…

To…

THE MOVIES…

By myself.

Yeah, yeah I know…

Not a big deal…

But I’ve never done this before.

I wanted to see The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo..

But couldn’t find anyone to go with me…

And with the holidays fast approaching…

And because I’ve got so much yet to do…

And with me leaving the States again next week…

And not wanting to see the movie in Spanish…

Yesterday was my only window of time…

And I took it.

And wow! The movie did not disappoint.

If you read the book or books…

I predict you won’t be disappointed either.

I think the actors were spot on…

The setting was exactly how I pictured it…

The scenes were whittled down perfectly..

(it was a big book after all)

And the rape scenes were well, graphic—but necessary.

So?

Have you read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo?

Are you going to see the movie?

And…

Have you ever pleasured yourself like this?

Always, Em-Musing

BREAKING OUT OF THE BOX

2011-12-21T06:40:00.000-05:00

I visited with Harriet, my neighbor yesterday…

To give her my manuscript, AZAEL’S LOT for her to read…

And surprisingly, she gave me a book in return…

A book of poetry…

Written by her mother-in-law, Doris R.Goldberg.

I opened the cover looking for the publisher.

“She self-published it.”

“Really? Back in 1989?"
“After getting many rejections she decided to do it herself.”

Walking back to my apartment I thought…

Nothing’s changed—regarding rejections that is.

And self-pubbing had to have been difficult back then…

(sorry for the bad photo, this was the best I could do)

Because without the Internet…

How would an author have marketed it?

Harriet said she placed her books in local bookstores…

But when she died, she had lots of books in boxes.

Lord! This is my fear!

What if after all my years of writing…

All that becomes of it is nothing but…

Stuff in a box?

So?

If you’re pub’d, traditional or otherwise…

What’s your marketing plan?

If you’re not pub’d…

What’s going to be your plan?

How will your make sure your writing...

Is not just stuff in a box?

Always, Em-Musing

P.S. See an article on one author's self-pub'd success

Doris Goldberg was born in Fall River, MA.

She came from a writing-family of poets,

essayists, novelists, medical writers, and
contributors to international scientific journals.
Doris had two degrees in English Literature,
and edited a weekly Poetry Column for
The Toledo Blade. She served on the
Board of Trustees of the Ohio Poetry Day
Assoc. and won poetry awards sponsored
by state and national poetry associations.

MESSAGE IN A BOX

2011-12-20T06:31:00.003-05:00

OK, please don’t think I’m crazy…
But I think my blog's spam inbox is a covert message board!
Really!Yesterday, I checked it for the first time since…well never…
And there’s a whole lot of messaging going on
And I have no idea what anyone’s talking about…
It’s all gobbledeegook…
Codes or something!
But obviously someone understand this mumbo jumbo...
Because there are actual conversations going back and forth…
Between people I don’t know.
I can see it now…
Really bad people who want to rule the world…
Need a forum to communicate…
And I can hear them plotting…
“Leigh Caron on Em-Musing.blogspot…
Never checks her spam inbox…
So let’s use her blog…
To send messages back and forth…
We’ll never get detected!
BWAH HAHAHAHAHA!”
So?
What’s in your spam inbox?

Always, Em-Musing

TIME, YOURSELF

2011-12-19T06:38:00.000-05:00

Last week on one of my blog posts…

I spoke about the gift of time…

That I have now that I closed on my house.

This weekend…

I rediscovered a new perspective on time…

When I found an old poem I wrote.
THE CONSEQUENCE OF WHEN
Maybe I’ll take her to lunch. When?
Or invite her over for coffee. When?
Maybe we’ll go shopping. When?
Or take a walk in the park. When?
At least I should call her. When?
PHONE RINGS
“She finally did it! Overdose!”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Obviously finding “time” for others…
Isn’t easy and doesn’t usually have tragic consequences…
But this poem got me thinking about Harriet…
My seventy-two-year-old neighbor…
Who always calls when I come back in town…
Who still decorates her car with activist bumper stickers…
Proclaiming her sentiments on the environment and war…
Who reprimands me for not recycling my plastics…
And who is actually one of only a few people…
Who has read one of my current manuscripts…
And who…
I keep putting off visiting. Why?
Because I will have to give up some of my time?
So yesterday, I recycled/re-gifted a box of candy…
And along with a small poinsettia plant I had bought…
I walked down to Harriet’s apartment to visit with her.
She served me green tea as thin-bodied as she…
And we talked and laughed for hours…
But it’s not like she doesn’t have family and friends…
Because she does, many…
But still she’s interested in my writing, and my future retreat.
In fact, she wants to read another manuscript of mine.
“Are you sure? The protagonist is an old, white-haired woman…”
“Like me?”, Harriet asked.
I winced wondering if I offended her.”
She smiled, “What genre is it?”
“Dark religious horror.” OK! Now I know she won't want to read it.
“Tell me about it.”
And so I gave her a quick synopsis.
“I like that you’ve included Jewish mysticism.”
“From the Psuedepigrapha and other ancient texts,” I said.
“Can you bring it to me tomorrow?”
“Are you sure? It’s gruesome in parts.”
“At my age, I don’t think anything will surprise me.”
And so today…
I will bring my manuscript of AZAEL’S LOT for her to read…
And she’ll give a gift back to me...
Her time.
So?
With “time” being such a valuable commodity…
How do you find it?

Always, Em-Musing

COVERT EMISSION

2011-12-16T05:28:00.000-05:00

If you want a lesson in being covert…

Look at lowly cold germs…

This year I thought I would escape their wrath…

By not fingering myself.

(if this sounds vulgar, check December 8th's post)

But just the other night, the germs attacked me once again!

“Noooo!” I screamed as I backed up. “Don’t touch me!”

“Mom, he just wants a hug,” my daughter chastised.

“But he’s got snot!”

“All kids have snot.”

“My point exactly! And hidden in kiddie snot are germs!”

“Oh, mom, you’re being silly.”

“Really? Last year each time I was around your kids…

I got sick!”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. I swear!”

“Maybe your immune system is weak.”

“Oh I see, blame the victim, right? Not nice.”

“Now look, you hurt his feelings.”

“Oh all right…come here sweetie.”

And so I hugged and kissed my three-year-old grandson.

And now this morning…

WAM!

DAMN!

Is it coincidence my throat feels scratchy?

And I’m feeling kinda achy?

See what I mean?

Germs are very clever...

Because what grandma could resist…

Hugging and kissing their snotty little grandkids?

So?

Do you boldly go where you know there are germs…

Just to be “relatively” polite?

Or do you keep stealth?

Oh, and...hey?

Whatcha doing this weekend?

Are you caught up in holiday hoopla?

Me?

Now that I closed on my house yesterday...

I've been given a gift—time...

To write, write, and write on my W.I.P.

Always, Em-Musing

ATTACK OF THE WRITE BRAIN

2011-12-15T05:54:00.000-05:00

Like a family member…

Washing the dead body of a loved one…

Before burial…

I went thought my house yesterday with a cloth…

Wiping away tiny smudges on walls.

Though I didn’t have to; I had hired a cleaning service…

I wanted the new owner to see the house I designed…

In all its pristine glory.

I walked through each room saying good-bye…

Memories surfaced, tears spilled.

But I didn’t want to become too maudlin…

So not long after…

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

Hmm? Where are my keys?

They weren't in my purse nor my pockets. Nor on the counters.

That’s impossible!

I searched everywhere again. And again!

No keys?

What’s going on?

And then fear gripped me…

What if the house wouldn’t let me leave?

What if it was pissed I sold it to a new owner...

And was going to keep me here forever?!

I fled out the door towards my car panting…

But then…

What if somehow…

The garage door came down on its own and trapped me?

Breathing heavy, my mind whizzed.—how will I escape?

And just as I realized there was no way...

There—on the front seat—my keys!

I was safe!

Phew! That was close!

Urrrrr…

No…

That was silly.

But really it’s not my fault…

Because once again…

I was a victim of…

An attack of my write brain!

So?

Does your write brain ever scare you?

Always, Em-Musing

IF THE GRANDKID IS BENT...

2011-12-14T05:55:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's post got me thinking…

That although I showed talent as a kid…

My parents didn’t really encourage me.

Wonder what would have happened…

If they had steered me towards college or other training?

Who knows how farther along I’d have gotten?

And that got me thinking about my grandkids…

And their parents—my daughters…

But, not just my daughters—all parents…

Who push their kids in a multitude of activities.

Are any of those activities the child’s inclination?

Or is it the desire of their parents?

My seven-year-old granddaughter loves to draw…

And so I asked my daughter one time...

“How come you don’t have her in art class?”

“Mom, she does enough. We can’t fit art into her schedule.”

I didn’t push the issue. It wasn't my place.

But now I wonder...

If my granddaugher is bent…should grandma be inclined to meddle?

What do you think?

And what about you?

Did you have an advocate for your writing...

Or other talent that you have?

Always, Em-Musing

AS THE KID IS INCLINED

2011-12-13T06:52:00.000-05:00

I found another treasure chest from my past…

In the attic of the home I sold…

Inside an old wooden crate I discovered:

Poems I wrote when I was eleven…

Cartoon drawings I did when I was twelve…

And a small reel-to-reel tape…

Of a radio commercial when I was ten…

That I wrote, voiced, and made SFX for.

Hee hee…I got cellophane wrap, crinkled it…

To sound like sizzling sausage in a pan…

And said the line, “Mmm, mmm, mmm…

More pork sausages ma.” Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

Obviously at an early age I showed signs of talent.

I can't say that I cognitively pursued those talents...

Because I didn't remember these little treasures till this weekend.

But they were obviously stored in some part of my brain....

Because...

I've written, voiced and produced radio spots.

Did a cartoon strip (using a better artist)….

Written poems short stories…

And currently I write novels.

So?

What about you?

Have you ever revisited your childhood…

And found a treasure chest of your childhood?

Did you have talents as a kid…

That you’re now pursuing as an adult?

Always, Em-Musing

MAGICAL YARN

2011-12-09T06:30:00.000-05:00

A long time ago…

In the land of magic and spells…

There was an old wizard…

Who fell in love with a fair maiden…

And what he loved most were her dainty feet.

“If you marry me,” said the wizard,

“I will make you hundreds of shoes…

And decorate them with jewels...

From around the kingdom.”

But the maiden...

Could not imagine sleeping with the old wizard...

And she spurned his advances…

Holding out for a prince…

Or at least a young handsome nobleman.

The old wizard was so hurt and offended…

That he cast a spell on the maiden…

“May your feet and all your ancestor’s feet…

Be cursed till the end of time!”

And there you have it folks…

The reason why I and every member of my family…

Are klutzes! I’m not kidding!

We trip on anything and everything!

Even if there's nothing there!

It’s true!

In fact my feet are so good at finding and stepping on things…

I could hire them to the military…

To help find land mines.

They could just hoist and hover me…

Over an area of land…

And my foot would find the land mind…

But because I’d be safely dangling above it.

I wouldn’t step on it and blow up.

So?

Are you a klutz?

What’s your excuse?

Or do you ever think someone cast a curse on you?

Always, Em-Musing

DON'T GIVE ME THE FINGER!

2011-12-08T05:46:00.000-05:00

Now that it’s cold and flu season…

And especially because it’s holiday time…

Everyone is in defensive and offensive mode…

To avoid getting sick…

And doing things to not spread or get germs...

Like cover your cough or sneeze…

Or don’t walk into someone else’s…

Wash your hands frequently...

And staying away from sick people.

But I think the most vital thing you can do…

Is stay away from your fingers...

Don’t scoff!

All I'm saying is...

Do not put your fingers in your orifices…

Specifically...

DO NOT put your finger in your mouth

No matter how much steak is stuck in your teeth!

Because the last thing you touched…

Could be the door knob to the public restroom.

DO NOT put your finger in your nose…

No matter how much that booger or hair is stuck.

Because the last thing you touched…

Could be the person’s hand you shook who sneezed into it.

DO NOT put your finger in your ear…

No matter how much you enjoy scooping out wax…

Because the last thing you touched could be a filthy shopping cart handle.

DO NOT put your finger to your eye…

No matter how much it itches or has goo…

Because the last thing you touched was…

Well? Do you even remember what you touched last?

See?

To help stay healthy…

Just don't finger yourself.

So?

What do you do to stay healthy?

Always, Em-Musing

ONCE UPON A NOTEBOOK

2011-12-07T06:37:00.000-05:00

The other day…

While cleaning out my house that I sold..

(Yippee yay! I sold it! Oh no! Now I gotta haul everything out of there!)

I stumbled upon a notebook in the attic…

Of old writings consisting of…

Two short stories…

And the start of a novel.

I’d forgotten all about them…

After all, it’s been twenty-some years…

Since I typed—yes typed—these words…

And all I can say is:

HA HA HA HA!

These are sooooooooo funny!

Problem is…

None of the stories were humorous fiction…

It was my inexperience as a writer writing…

That was the joke!

I cannot believe I wrote so badly!

Oh sure, the stories were OK…

But everything else?

HA HA HA HA!

So?

Did you ever stumble on your own…

Once upon a notebook?

Always, Em-Musing

SNORT THE KIND OF STORY TO TELL

2011-12-06T05:43:00.002-05:00

It’s not the kind of story most people would tell…

Let alone share…

But tell it, I did…and share it with you I am.

I’m not proud of it…

But it happened because there wasn’t a creative thought in my head...

And if you're a fellow writer maybe you can empathize.

You see I sold my house (I don't live in it anymore)...

And was there all weekend clearing it out. I was pooped!

My daughter dropped my three grandkids off…

While she and her husband moved some things.

When they left, my nine-year-old piped up…

“Grandma tell us a ghost story!”

“Grandma? Is Papa’s ghost here? The seven-year-old asked.

“Oh, no Peanut…no. Papa is in heaven (I hope)

Well, I needed to come up with something—quick!

So they wouldn’t dwell on my deceased husband/their Papa.

But the nine-year-old beat me to it, “Grandma? Why does it stink outside?

“Well, this used to be a pig farm (true) way back when,” I replied.

When it rains long and hard you can still smell the pigs.
And from the stench of the soil arose this stinky tale…

“A long time ago there used to be a little girl who lived here...

The kids in school used to make fun of her…

And called her Pig Girl because she smelled like a pig.

The only friends she ever had were the pigs.

Well, one day, after the school kids had taunted her real bad…

Pig Girl went down to the sty, cried herself to sleep and then froze to death.

You see, it was freezing outside, and even the pigs couldn't keep her warm.

And now, at night, whenever it’s cold outside…

You can hear Pig Girl crying.”

“What does she sound like, grandma?”

“Waaa snort, waaa snort, waaa snort.”

Fast forward one hour

Ringtone Ringtone

“Mom? What the heck kind of story did you tell the kids?

“Why?”

“They’re running around snorting and scaring the baby.”

“Umm, well…”

“Did you make up a story about a pig girl?”

“Well, yes. I uh...”

“Really mom? Is that the best story you could come up with?”

“What can I say? I was tired. And hungry!”

“And weird.”

“Ok, weird, yes, I'll admit to weird.”

So?

Ever tell a weird story? Or stupid or crazy?

What’s the worst one you told?

Always, Em-Musing

LAW-LESS

2011-12-05T05:08:00.000-05:00

We all know...

The law of expansion and contraction…

Works with solid surfaces like metal and asphalt…

But skin?

Because of my recent country hopping…

I experienced not just different temps…

And different humidities…

But my face doing things…

Nature didn’t intend.

It’s not supposed to puff up like an adder one day…

And then shrink like shriveled snake skin the next.

And now that I’m back in Ohio with its cold weather…

My furnace is constantly belching out dry heat…

And consequently…

I, and my face weren’t prepared for this next development:

“Mom? Why do you look weird?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you crying?”

“No, why?”

“Your eyes look smaller.”

I ran to the mirror. Dear God! They did!

Can furnace heat shrink eyeballs?

Blow up cheeks?

And produce water-filled bags under my eyes?

Later, when I got on my computer…

I Googled my conditions and—Dear God! I’m doomed!

There’s no cream to unshrink eyeballs..

No vitamin or supplement to correct blown up cheeks!

OK, there are some creams to debloat the bags under my eyes…

But come on!

Ok, fine then…

If this is how it’s going to be…

I’m going to develop a bubble…

That I can fit into…

To cart my ass around in when I travel…

So I and my face won’t be subjected to…

The law of expansion and contraction.

However, I’m still going to have to figure out…

How to get rid of…

The six pounds of traveling fat that follow me around.

So?

Am I the only one who suffers when they travel?

Always, Em-Musing

P.S. Yeah, yeah I know, humidities, unshrink, and debloate

are not real words.

SAH...WEEEEEET!

2011-12-02T06:34:00.000-05:00

Uhhhhmmmmm! Breathing deep

Floating...

Mmm! Ahh! Mmm! (Inside head)

Ahhhhhhhhhh! (Inside head)

Love...peace...contentment (inside my soul)

Hee! Hee! Hee! (Inside head)

Ha! Ha! Ha! (Inside head)

Hee! Hee! Hee! (Inside head)

I know how to stop war—laughter! (Inside head)

I know the secret to life—laughter! (Inside head)

Ha! Hee! Ha! (Inside head)

Hee! Ha! Hee! (Inside head)

Hee! Hee! Hee! (Inside head)

Four Hundred Years Later

(or so it seemed)

“Ok, Leigh, all done...

Remember, these are plastic crowns...

Go easy and don’t chew gum.”

See you in three weeks.” (dentist)

“Did you like the nitrous oxide?”(dental assistant)

(also called "sweet gas")

“Definitely! Can I get gassed next time too?” (me)

“Definitely.” (dental assistant)

"Sweet!" (me, and every part of my mind, body and soul)

So?

Ever been gassed in the dentist’s office?

Did you feel as awesome as I did?

Always, Em-Musing

HELP! I'VE GOT WADD!

2011-12-01T08:36:00.001-05:00

While at a social event recently…

Polite conversation was required of me…

Oh, I was and am always polite…

But a conversationalist I’m not...

And being that I wasn’t intrigued with the topic…

I had to feign interest...

“Mm hm”, I mumbled, smiling, “Oh really?” (boring!)

Some people, I’ve noticed…

Have the gift of gab…

And can talk (blather) on, and on, and on, and on…

About anything!

And that got me thinking about my writing…

I write like I speak—short.

It’s difficult for me to write exposition…

Because I get bored with too many details—in my own story!

How can that be?

Perhaps I have WADD—Writer’s Attention Deficit Disorder?
Consequently, I’ve been told I need to set my scenes more.

And I do. I go back an edit them in.

But it's not just details in my writing...

Details also plague me when reading a book…

If an author gives too many—I skim.

I guess it’s a fine line between too much and not enough.

What about you?

Do your characters have the same speech pattern as you?

Have you found that fine line in details...

Between too much and not enough?

Does it come naturally?

Or do you hone?

And if you hone...

How did you learn?

Always, Em-Musing

PRESENT & TENSE

2011-11-29T09:39:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite things to do…

When I travel…

Is buy a new book and read it on the plane.

This trip...

It was John Grisham’s, THE CONFESSION.

I continued reading it all the while I was in Akumal, Mexico...

And boy, I gotta tell you…

The tension Grisham puts in it…

Is the best I’ve seen in a long time.

As every writer knows…

To build tension…

You, “put your hero up a tree and throw stones at him.”

And Grisham is a master at throwing stones…

Adding conflict, and setting up roadblocks and obstacles.

Each page, each chapter kept me on edge...

How will the hero get out of this mess.?

He's running out of time!!!Oh no!

He killed him? Now what?

Will there be a happy ending?

Well, with one hundred more pages to go…

It was time to pack for my trip to LA.

So now I’m on the plane…

Reach into my purse for THE CONFESSION—Gone!

I checked my carryon—Not there!

OK, I said…when I get to LA…

I’ll check my checked bag—NADA!

Damn it! Are you kidding me?

I’ll go crazy if I don’t know how it ends!

And the problem is…

I know I won’t buy the book again…

I can't find the ending on the Internet, only reviews...

I doubt I’ll take the time to go to the library…

Or to Barnes & Noble and read it there because…

I'M OUT OF TIME!

I’ve sold my house…

And I've got two weeks to pack it up and clean it up!

But I need to know...

How does THE CONFESSION end?

So please...

If you know...

Can you help your fellow writer…

And tell me the ending?

Always, Em-Musing

CHANGING MIND ZONES

2011-11-28T09:41:00.000-05:00

I’m in LA now…

Well, actually a town above the valley in the mountains…

I came in last week for the Thanksgiving weekend…

Before LA was Akumal, Mexico…

And before Akumal, Ohio.

And all I can say is…

With all the different time zones…

Something weird is happening…

Like yesterday morning…

I blissfully sat in bed in the guest room…

Jammies on, coffee on the night stand…

And wrote and wrote and wrote—heaven!

But then this morning…

When I went to Dropbox to open up the file…

It wasn’t there…

ZIP! NADA! ZILCH! ZERO!

Now I’ve got to tell you…

If I was back home in Ohio…

I’d have freaked out, gone ballistic, went into a tizzy!

If I were in Akumal…

I would have toned down a bit…

But still be perturbed, annoyed, bothered.

However, here in California…

With the San Gabriel mountains outside…

And the air clear and aromatic…

I’m peaceful. Not worried. Hopeful actually.

So while sipping my coffee…

I calmly found the files again, no problem.

Lord! What’s happening?

Could it be true about Californians?

That they have a different attitude?

Could I have caught that attitude after just a few days?

I gotta tell you. I like this new attitude. I want to keep this new attitude.

But is this merely a change in altitude?

A change in sleep patterns?

Or has my perception of a California attitude…

Become my own reality?

I’m not sure…

But I am sure going to try and keep whatever it is.

What do you think?

Have you ever experienced a new attitude…

Because your perception of something…

Altered your reality?

Always, Em-Musing