Twenty-Five

I Dislike Conflict…

| rachelhamm

In real life.  I mean, I really hate it.  I can’t stand fighting or debating or even disagreeing with someone else.  And it literally makes me sick when someone is angry with me or thinks I’ve done a bad job or criticizes me.  Makes me want to vomit and keeps me awake at night.  And even months later, if I think back to a person who has been angry with me, I find myself saying “I hate my life.”  I’m totally serious about that.

So, aside from the obvious- I need a therapist- I tend to stay away from conflict as much as possible (okay that was probably pretty obvious, too).

Not really a very good quality for a writer.

Because a writer needs to understand conflict.  Needs to be able to dissect it and take out all the little pieces and understand why each character feels the way they do and why they would do what they do and why what they feel and what they do causes problems for other characters.  Still with me?

Also, if you can’t take criticism, your writing will never live up to its full potential.

But back to understanding conflict.

On the first draft of Twenty-Five I constantly got feedback that there wasn’t any conflict.  That the problems the characters faced weren’t really in the conflict realm because they were so easily resolved.  That there wasn’t one overarching conflict holding the story together.

So on the “second” draft I tried to bring out more conflict.

And now on the “third” draft, I’m trying to bring out even more, because if a book needs an overarching conflict, I still don’t think I have it.

Because in Twenty-Five, the conflict is life.  And living a new relationship.  And learning how to love.  Sometimes it’s really great.  Because falling in love is great.  And sometimes it’s a little blah, because life is a little blah.  But what real conflict do we have in life?  I don’t have one overarching thing that holds the story of my life together.  And I don’t think the characters in my book need to either.

Yes, I realize I’m probably crazy.  No publisher or agent is going to want a book that doesn’t have a conflict.  But when I started writing this book over a year ago, my goal was to write a book without a hook, without a gimmick.  Just a story as real-to-life as possible about the beginning of a relationship.  Isn’t that conflict enough?  I mean really.  What’s more difficult in this world than starting a relationship with someone new?

I think this whole desire to avoid conflict at all costs is one of the things preventing me from finishing any of my other novel ideas (characterization is another big problem I have.  And description.  I hate description.  And prose, too.  I don’t hate prose, I’m just no good at it.  Dialogue- I’m good at dialogue).  Because for the most part, a story has no where to go if it has no higher conflict.  That’s what makes Twenty-Five so special though, I think.  I managed to write a story about two people and that’s all it’s about.  Two people and their love for each other.  A love story is what most people want for themselves, right?

I realize that my posts lately have really been lacking in the substance department.  I hope this makes up for it a little bit.  But what you have to understand about me is that I really don’t have a lot of substance- at least not in the way a writer/blogger should have substance.  I wish I did, but I know that I don’t.  I’m not deep.  I read a lot, but I usually can’t have an intellectual conversation about books.  I can’t really put into words how something makes me feel.  I find it difficult to stay on topic and to argue a point of view.

Because arguing, after all, is too much like conflict.

So, these random, journal-like, entries are what you get when you come to I Picked Up A Pen One Day.  I’m sorry if you wanted advice on how to be a better writer.  Or to see the process of what going from start to finish on a book looks like.  Or the kinship of another intellectual pursuing their true passion while the world holds them back.  I can’t be those things.  I wish I could be.  But I can’t.

I know what you’re thinking- Never say “I Can’t” because you can!

I don’t want to be someone I’m not.  So, sometimes, saying “I Can’t” is the best thing I can do for myself.

Wow, this has really wandered from my original topic.

Back to conflict.  I don’t like it.  I don’t want to write it.  So maybe I’ll try and be the conflict-less writer.  And maybe I’ll still be unpublished 50 years from now.  And maybe that is just going to have to be okay.

Milestone Update: This is my 96th post!  There are 23 days until my One year Blogiversary!

And a little thing that makes me happy: GLEE!  That show is so stinkin’ amazing!

My Spot on the Shelf

| rachelhamm

I didn’t realize how long it’s been since I last posted!  I’ve been busy, which is nothing unusual, and I just haven’t given much thought to writing the past two weeks.

I hate that.

But sometimes I don’t have control over everything in my life.  It kinda sucks, but it’s kinda okay too.  Okay because I’ve been working with a lot of wedding clients and I’ve been hanging out with some friends and, you know, actually having a life!

I thought about writing today, though.  First, at work, I had a minute or two of downtime here and there and I started created a family tree for my next project (A serial story about Family Dynamics- get ready for it!), then, I was in Barnes and Noble for a brief second and I couldn’t stop myself.  I went to the Fiction and Literature section and glanced at the titles.  I found my way to the H’s.  I found the spot where my book would be if I ever get published.

Is it weird that I do this?  Because this isn’t the first time I’ve looked for where my book belongs in a bookstore.  (And just for the record, I’d be to the left of Seeing Stars by Diane Hammond- in case you don’t know my awesome last name.)  It’s motivating to me.  The idea that maybe, possibly, someday I could walk in a bookstore and when I find that spot on the shelf my book will actually BE there.  It’s a pipe dream, I know.  But maybe.  Just possibly.

I got a review on TNBW the other day for my poem “Observations in Ten Minutes” in which the reader/reviewer asked if I’d ever thought of publishing my poetry.  Of course I have!  I’ve thought about it and dreamed about it.  But I haven’t really done much to make it happen.  I know I need to.  I need to send out queries and letters and let the publishing world know that I exist.  But when?  When’s the right time?  I don’t think I’m ready.  I want to be.  But I don’t think I am.

I read a few poems I wrote in high school last night.  Oh my God were they awful.  TERRIBLE.  I can’t believe I ever thought they were good (which, PS, I did).  What if I think the same thing about the stuff I’m writing now, the novel and short stories and poetry I’ve written over the last year and a half?  I want my best work out there.  I don’t want to put my name on something that isn’t perfect.

And therein lies another problem.  It will never be perfect.  Even books I LOVE have moments of terrible writing (Jane Austen being the obvious exception).  So do I take the chance now that someone will see the brilliance in my work (not that my work is brilliant by any means, but I think you know what I’m going for) and overlook the horridness?  Or do I spend another year or so editing and perfecting, making it better?  I feel like life is too short for that.  I need more time though!  I started a round of edits on Twenty-Five, but I think I only got through chapter 6 or so.  I’ve been so exhausted in the evenings and busy on the weekends, I haven’t gone back to it.

Okay, seriously Rach.  Enough whining.  Just do it!

It’s the only way you’ll ever get anywhere- you can’t move forward by standing still.

So I guess I’ll be getting off my ass now.

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And a little thing that makes me happy: Getting comments from People who read my blog! (HINT HINT!)

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Quick Update on the Trifecta of Milestones approaching:

This is my 92nd post.

I’ve had 4,895 views to date.

And there are 6 weeks and 4 days left until my One Year Blogiversary!

Upcoming Milestones

| rachelhamm

I realized the other day that I have 3 HUGE milestones coming up for my blog.

Milestone 1: 100 posts

Milestone 2: 5,000 hits

Milestone 3: The One year Anniversary!!!

As it stands currently, this is my 91st post, I have 4,843 hits, and eight weeks and 2 days until my one year Blogiversary.

Now, wouldn’t it be freaking fantastic if somehow I managed to hit all three milestones on the same day (October 15th).  Not just fantastic, but fabulous.   FANTABULOUS!

The first one I have control over, I can spread my posts out over the next two months so that my 100th falls on the right day.  The third one is inevitable- the day must come, the anniversary will exist no matter what.

The second one, though, I have no control over.  So it’s up to you guys- my readers (can I call you friends?  fans?  or is that too weird.  Yeah, it’s a little weird.  We’ll stick with reader friends).  I need you to help me get the word out.  I need 157 hits by October 15- but I can’t go over that until October 16!

I know, I’m weird.  But I’ve never tried to hide that.

So, what do you think?  Doable?  or Pipe dream?

I say Doable!

To celebrate the one year anniversary, I plan on posting a week of my favorite posts, so if you have any suggestions, feel free to comment below and that will help me start planning.  I’m a planner, it’s what I do.

I’m also thinking of starting some sort of weekly story post.  I’ve seen it on a lot of other blogs and it seems popular and a good way to find new followers.  Would you guys prefer for me to post a current WIP or something new?  It would probably encourage me to actually finish a WIP, but if it was something new I could tailor it to a weekly blog post, make the segments short and it wouldn’t have to be novel length when finished.  Hmm…  I could always post Twenty-Five, that would get me back on the editing warpath.  Or would it be horrible of me to steal the idea of other bloggers?  Well, I have 2 months to decide, I’m not going to start anything until after the anniversary.

And a little thing that makes me happy: learning that maybe I don’t suck at networking after all.  I was absolutely delightful at last night’s greater triangle chapter ISES meeting.

Short Attention Span

| rachelhamm

It’s funny, I’ve spent the past couple of days wishing I had time to write a blog post, and yet when I just opened up the “Add New Post” page and set my fingers on the keyboard, my mind went completely blank.  I had nothing to say.  So that’s why you are getting this little rambling to kick things off.

Let’s see, what’s been going on?

Well, I just spent the last couple of days in Marilla, New York with my dad’s parents (so for those of you who commented on my last post, I’m so sorry I haven’t responded yet, I’m going to right after I finish this post).  For those of you who don’t know western New York, Marilla is close to East Aurora which is close to Buffalo.  Marilla is such a small town that my grandparents mailing address is East Aurora.  But anyways.  Being with family you only see once every couple of years or so (if that) is always awkward, but it’s nice too.  Like seeing my dad get hammered with his brother and sisters around makes me realize how all his children got to be the smart asses they are today.

Of course, there’s always the inevitable “we’re interested in your life” conversations which lead to things like my uncle checking my hands to see if there are any engagement rings there (for the record, there aren’t) or being told by my seventeen year old cousin that I need to get married soon so he could come down and visit us again (he and his family came for my younger sister’s wedding last year and we had a blast) or being told by my grandmother that there’s always the internet to find someone or being asked by my aunt if I even have a boyfriend.  At least my grandfather told me I looked slimmer than the last time he saw me (though I’m probably not).

I did get some time on the plane ride to Buffalo to type up a few random chapters of The Death Effect that have been waiting in my notebook for a week or two.  My current word count is 37,163!  I’m about 1/2 way there.  I can’t believe how long it is taking me to write this book, but I should remember that writing Twenty-Five in a month was a real fluke, and I shouldn’t expect that from every book I attempt to write.  It got me thinking about how much I’ve written on some of my other ideas, probably not much!  So, of course, I looked.  Here it is:

Thirty-Four: 35,988

30 Dates in 30 Days: 2,598

Anita’s Dream Diary: 21,525

Aribelle: 5,328

David and Adrian: 14,551

Love or Friendship: 4,133

The First Mermaid: 1,870

Apparently the long novel is not something I’m very good at, the longest one on this list is the “sequel” to Twenty-Five!  Or at least, I don’t have the attention span for it.  My friend Ang once asked if I’d ever thought of doing a collection of short stories.  She may be on to something, since it seems I think in 5,000 words or less most of the time.  I’d love some suggestions of what to write about- what would you guys enjoy reading?

And a little thing that makes me happy: A pen that writes really really really well.

I Didn’t Win

| rachelhamm

TNBW’s 2010 Strongest Start Competition for the Romance Category.  It really doesn’t come as a surprise, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.  Apparently Twenty-Five, the only book I’ve been able to actually finish, is a victim of first book syndrome.  It will never get anywhere because it just isn’t good.  I should put it in a drawer and work on other projects, but it’s so hard to get the characters out of my head.  Ben is the only character I have left who still talks to me- and that’s with 6 or 7 different projects that I’ve started.  Everyone else seems to have thrown in the towel, I think they want me to throw in the towel too.

I don’t want to.

But I’m worried I’m going to have to.

No, I won’t.

I don’t want to be a quitter. But what if this isn’t right?  What if I really do suck?  What if I’m not supposed to be a writer?

Do you enjoy it?

When I actually have time to do it, yes.

Then what makes you think you aren’t supposed to be a writer?

I suck.

Everyone sucks.

Touche.  But I mean, I suck at THIS.  I suck at writing.  I get told all the time that my stories aren’t original, no one seems to “get” what I’m trying to say.

You don’t suck.

Yes, I do.

I’m going to smack you.

You won’t be the first one who’s threatened to do that.

I’ll be the first one to follow through.

No, you won’t.  Because you are me.  And I never follow through on anything.

That’s not true!

Sure it is.  Look at me.  I graduated college Summa Cum Laude with a degree in Criminal Justice.  Have I EVER pursued a career in criminal justice?

You applied to law school.

But I didn’t go.

Do you regret that?

Sometimes.

Why?

Because then maybe I’d be doing something worth while.

You think your life isn’t worth while?

Exactly.

Why not?

Why not?  Why not?  Because I’m stuck.  I work three jobs and I still can’t afford to live on my own.  I’m tired and grumpy all the time.  No guy has ever wanted to be with me and I truly believe no guy ever will.  Nothing I do makes any difference whatsoever.  My writing is crap, I don’t even know why I try.

Isn’t it true that more people tell you they like your writing than tell you they dislike it?

Technically, I suppose.

Technically, you suppose?  You are infuriating.  Why can’t you believe in yourself more?

Because there’s nothing to believe in.

Yes, there is.

No, there isn’t.

We’ve been here before.

And we’ll be back again.

Why did you enter the contest in the first place?

I was hoping to get some validation, I suppose.  Something quantifiable.  I’ve never won a single contest I’ve entered, writing or otherwise.  I just wanted to feel like I could do something right.  That I could be a winner.  I thought maybe Twenty-Five would have a shot.  I was wrong.

It made it to the finals.

The finals isn’t winning.

It’s closer than losing.

Well, aren’t you clever?

I like to think so.

Do you really think I can ever get anywhere with this?  Is there even a chance that someone out there will ever think that my writing is great, or at least good enough?

Yes.

Really?

Sometimes.

But not all the time?

Well, of course I have doubts.  I’m you.  You’re me.  You’re having this conversation with yourself, idiot.

I AM an idiot.

And you’d be hella boring if you weren’t one.

Thanks for that.

You’re welcome.

But a little thing that made me happy today:  My friend, Ang, DID win the Strongest Start Competition in the Romance Category.  Congratulations Ang!  You’re an amazing writer and I’m happy to call you a friend!

I’ve Been a Bad Blogger Lately

| rachelhamm

And I’m sorry.  I haven’t had much to say, honestly.  Life is busy and I haven’t been writing very much.  It makes me sad, but it’s also okay.  I’d love to work on The Death Effect, but the characters are being very quiet.  They don’t seem to want to speak to me.  And that’s okay, too.  Sometimes the mind just needs a bit of a break.

So I’ve been giving my brain a lot of rest.  I’ve been watching a lot of movies and just relaxing as much as possible.  It’s been very nice.  I wrote a poem a few days ago which I really liked.  I think right now my creativity is on the short-winded side, so I’m going to work my pen out with short stories and poetry.  If I write anything interesting, I’ll post it for you.

Some good news for you: my novel, Twenty-Five, is a finalist in The Next Big Writer‘s Strongest Start 2010 Competition in the Romance category!  There are six finalists in each category and there will be one winner and two runner-ups.  I’m sure I won’t win anything, but I almost didn’t enter, so being a finalist is pretty cool!

And a little thing that makes me happy: getting a random text message from one of my siblings with a quote from Mean Girls or Friends.

Life Doesn’t Seem to Take Into Account the Plans That I Make

| rachelhamm

May was supposed to be an easy month.  I have no weddings scheduled and only had to work one Friday at the ortho.  May was supposed to be the month I finally started querying and writing again.

Unfortunately, May has been super crazy so far.  I wish I could post a screen shot of my calendar so you could see how crazy.  I haven’t sent a single query because I haven’t had time to work on my letter or finish (heck, even start, really) my latest rounds of edits on Twenty-Five.  I don’t know if I’m more relieved or frustrated about that.

I haven’t written a word of The Death Effect since I made the goal to get to 60K this month.  I honestly have not had real time.  I need to go back and read through what I already have and look at my outlines before I write anymore because it’s been soo long since I’ve seriously worked on it.  I don’t remember the paths I wanted the characters to take.  I remember the outcome, just not how to get them there!

So, why haven’t I had the time?  I’ve been working.  I don’t have any weddings this month, which last year meant a smooth-sailing, free-as-a-bird existence.  This year, NOPE!  But that’s a good thing.  I’m busier.  I have more clients than ever and I’m going to meetings and networking events all the time.  It’s wonderful because I really do love it.  If I could coordinate full time and write on the side, I’d be a really happy girl.  And we’re getting closer.  My boss can’t keep track of my clients anymore!

On the same line of thought, we spent four hours on Sunday setting up our blog, Daring, Devoted.  It looks FANTABULOUS, if I do say so myself.  We officially “launched” it on Tuesday.  And by “launched” I mean we all put posts on Facebook about it! haha.  It will be on our website soon, too.  I’m so happy with it and really proud of the BBS team for doing it!  I just hope brides and event professionals find it informative and entertaining.

When we were working on the blog, it struck me how important voice actually is in writing of any kind, not just fiction.  There are three of us in the company and each of us read the other 2’s posts to make comments and suggestions before putting them on the blog.  It hit me over the head how different they each sounded, and not just in content.

I’ve heard so much discussion on the importance of a strong voice over the past year and I kinda wondered if that was my problem.  I couldn’t discern my own voice in my work.  I worried the way I write is so simple that is is utterly devoid of voice.  But I discovered this weekend that isn’t true.  I DO have a voice.  It may not be knock-your-socks-off fantastic, but it’s there.  I sound like me.  Nobody else.  Just me.

And I think that’s a good thing.

*As proof of how busy I’ve been, I wrote this on Monday and have not had time to type it until today, Thursday!*

The Query I Wish I Could Send Out

| rachelhamm

Dear SuperAgent,

I wrote my first novel, Twenty-Five, a year ago, on the verge of my own twenty-fifth birthday to deal with the trauma of that milestone.  It is the first time I’ve attempted to write fiction other than a contest in the fourth grade (which I won) where I wrote a short story entitled The Summer Aliens Invaded My Brother’s Brain.  I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses.  Twenty-Five is a love story, pure and simple.  The characters are not so utterly unique that reading about them makes one wonder if I was on acid when imagining their personalities.  The plot is not so action packed and full of twists and turns that readers will sit looking at the wall, scratching their heads, for ten minutes after reading because they have no idea what the hell just happened.  Instead, I’ve created characters who are a lot like you and me, your best friend, your next door neighbor, and the boy who grew up down the street from you who you always had a secret crush on.  What happens to them is what happens to us all- the firsts of a new relationship.  The first meeting, the first date, the first kiss, the first fight, the big breakup, etc.

I realize this doesn’t sound glamorous or jump-out-of-your-seat fantastic, but it’s one of those books that will make you feel good.  Reading it, you’ll be reminded how hard it was to summon up the courage to ask that girl out or say I love you.  You’ll remember those nights you spent heart-broken and crying because nothing in the world seemed more disastrous than the person you love leaving you.

I wrote Twenty-Five with the hope of penning a story that would inspire in others the same feelings of romance and hope that Jane Austen’s work inspired in me.

Twenty-Five isn’t a rewrite of an Austen classic and it doesn’t feature any characters named Mr. Darcy, but it does show a strong woman who doesn’t believe in her own strength and a beautiful man who would do anything to make her see how amazing she is.

When Abigail Bronsen turns twenty-five, she wonders why her life has gone nowhere.  She’s trapped in a job she hates and spends her evenings alone in her apartment, with nothing but her literary heroes and writing aspirations to keep her company.  Then Ben Harris crashes into her.

They fall in love, of course, and Ben secretly helps Abigail cross off items on a list of goals she made as a teenager.  He finds out soon though, that helping build her confidence is sending her on a path away from him, one that leads to London and a dream job.

With an ocean between them, they’ll struggle to overcome pain and pride to see if their love is meant to be, or if it was all simply the result of a random accident.

Now doesn’t that sound amazing?  Please read my book!

Sincerely,

A Writer Who Will Be Eternally Grateful if You Give Me a Chance!

When it Rains…

| rachelhamm

…It pours.

I’m not boy-crazy, though I do realize that a lot of my recent posts have dealt with persons of the opposite gender.  Love and dating have been on my mind a lot lately, but I blame society and all of the stupid happy people around me.  (Okay, I blame myself for a good portion of the happy people around me, I did make a conscious choice to spend my weekends coordinating weddings, but I’d rather blame society.)

I’ve spent most of my adolescent and adult life wondering why guys aren’t interested in me.  And then, for some reason, all at once, guy after guy pops up and makes me question whether there really were no guys interested before or if I was too busy belittling myself to notice the guys who were.

Today I went to get my oil changed.  When my car was ready, an employee called my name and I went to the desk to pay.  I took one of my headphones out, but left the other one in while the guy told me my total and I handed over my debit card.  While the transaction was running he asked me something, but I was looking away and didn’t really register that he had spoken for a couple of seconds.  When I did, I took out my other headphone and he repeated himself, “What have you been up to?”

“Just working.”  I shrugged my shoulders and put my book back in my purse.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.  I finally looked at him, trying to recognize someone from high school, but though he looked vaguely familiar, no name came to me.

“Should I?”  I couldn’t believe I asked that, but it was the first thing I could think of to say.  He smiled and pointed at his name on his shirt.  It took me another second or two and then it dawned on me.  I had dated this guy!  Not seriously, we went out a couple of times when I was a teenager, he used to be a regular at the skating rink where I worked in high school.  (I know skating rinks are incredibly uncool, but most of the jobs I’ve had have been incredibly uncool.)

I let him know I knew who he was and asked what he’d been up to.  He said he thought I looked familiar but wasn’t positive until he saw my name.  It was a very strange encounter.  I didn’t really know what to say to him, I didn’t really remember much about him, not even his last name.  What I did remember was kissing him in a movie theater.  I’ve only kissed a few guys- four to be exact.  And he was one of them.  Yet, I hadn’t thought about him in years.  Probably not since I quit the skating rink (almost 10 years ago).

There are guys in my past that I cared very deeply about, even though they didn’t feel the same for me.  I still think of them sometimes and wonder what they are doing and how they are.  Not in a creepy stalker way, but I’m sure you know what I mean.  People who are important to you have a way of imprinting themselves on your life, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen or talked to them.

I found it odd that this guy hadn’t imprinted.  I would have thought that one of the few men I’d kissed would have, you know?  I suppose if someone had asked me this morning how many guys I’d kissed I would have been able to tell them and I would have been able to name this guy, but I can’t be positive about that.

I don’t know why it affects me so much, but I feel guilty about it.  And at the same time, I wonder if I’m that forgettable.  Probably to some.  But maybe there are men out there who I imprinted on somehow.  I can’t be certain that’s the case, but maybe.

Sorry, back to my original topic.  When it rains, it pours.  I thought when I turned twenty-five approximately 10 months ago that this was going to be the year I met someone.  I was sure of it.  I wrote down a love story in the hopes that it would propel fate or destiny or whatever.  Of course it didn’t.  Then I stopped expecting it to happen.  And of course as soon as I stopped expecting it to happen, Religious Guy asked me out (and dumped me- although it wasn’t really a dumping since we were only trying each other out, more like he decided I didn’t fit) and then Waiter Guy tells me I’m beautiful and then Dog Guy appears to flirt with me and then I run into Guy-I-Once-Kissed Guy.  Now, I know none of these guys are the someone I’ve been hoping for for so long, but they are building up my confidence a little.  I believe in myself a little more.  Enough to smile at Dog Guy rather than looking away immediately.  Maybe in a couple of weeks I’ll have enough courage to actually speak to him.  Maybe twenty-five wasn’t my year.  Maybe twenty-six won’t be either, but it’s looking a lot better today than it was yesterday.

This is supposed to be a blog about writing and about me trying to be a writer.  But sometimes it’s so much more than that for me.  I know I ramble about random and stupid and silly things sometimes, but sometimes this blog is all I have.  After the encounter today, I really wanted to tell someone about it.  But I didn’t have anyone I could tell it to.  I’ve been closed off for a long time.  I keep to myself because friends who I thought I was close to let me down, they didn’t care about me the way I thought they did.  Now I have 2 friends who I consider to be close friends, but they aren’t physically close.  And the truth is, it’s still hard for me to talk to them about certain things.  I don’t know how to bring something like this up with them.  I end up feeling guilty for talking about me instead of them and so I make light of whatever it is I wanted to tell them in the first place.  I feel selfish if the “problem” I have isn’t big in comparison to a problem they may have.

This blog is the only place I can truly express myself and my fears and tell others about things happening in my life without feeling guilty because I’m talking about me.  I used to keep a journal and if I went back to read my old thoughts, I’m sure they would sound an awful lot like this blog- often repetitive and back and forth emotionally.  I love life, I hate myself, I love myself, I hate life- you get the picture.  I often wonder if I’m optimistic, pessimistic, or just plain foolish and sometimes I wonder if I’m bi-polar.  My mood swings probably aren’t that extreme, but what can I say, I over-think and over-analyze everything.  All of which to say that while I still intend to use this blog to chronicle my writing journey, I think it’s important to use it to chronicle the bigger journey that I’m on, too.

A journey to be happy.