Writerly Wednesday: It doesn't get any worse than this

It's hard to believe more than 60 days have passed.

In some ways it feels like it's been years since the last time I wrote a true blog post. In other ways, it feels like I've merely blinked.

I'm not exaggerating when I say I've traveled the hardest road of my life during the past nine weeks.

If only I'd quit asking how life could get any worse.

I don't remember the first time that question popped into my head. It was probably about 13 years ago, when I dropped my daughter off at daycare and, as I headed to work, I seriously contemplated missing the turn and disappearing from my life.

It wasn't that I didn't love my daughter and husband. I just didn't love anything about me.

Fortunately, I realized that you can't run away from yourself.

Instead of missing the turn in to work that day, I turned to God and prayed. He led me out of that dark place, right into a job that helped me become a better writer. He led me to a place where I could chase my dream.

And things were good. For awhile. Until the realization of my husband's alcohol addiction and depression settled upon me.

As he went through withdrawal, I started asking myself: "How can it get any worse than this?"

As he struggled through med changes, I thought: "It can't get any worse than this."

And when he was prescribed one med a few years ago that nearly destroyed him, I let myself wonder: "Really? How could it possibly get any worse than this?"

Well, for starters, a new general practitioner's inexperience with bipolar and anxiety disorders could lead him through three med changes in four visits.

That GP could call me at work to tell me she's "worried about Dana."

I could snap at her and say, "I'm worried too. You need to quit screwing with his meds. Don't you realize what that does?"

She could lie to me about the course of treatment she wants to take, and then later have the nerve to write in her notes that I seemed "unconcerned" about my husband's well being.

The situation could actually get so bad I'd have trouble processing my anger several weeks later.

Still, within days I found myself asking: "How could life get any worse?"

Well, my gorgeous teenage daughter could date someone who doesn't respect her boundaries.

A 500-year flood could hit my hometown.

A raging river could rise to within 200 yards of my childhood home.

I could develop such a cynical attitude about writing that my eyes would roll back into my head when an agent would post something on Facebook or Twitter.

I could question whether or not I should let go of the dream I'd been chasing for years.

I could spiritually fall into a place so dark the very existence of God seemed laughable.

Sigh.

Yeah, it got that bad. But I now realize it could have been much, much worse.

I've read that writers aren't supposed to use their blogs as personal diaries.

It could be detrimental to your pursuit of publication.

Guess what? I've decided I don't give a damn.

I'm not bitter (except about the doctor thing). I just realized that I no longer enjoyed writing -- and living -- because I stopped writing and living from the heart.

I realized my heart was dying, and my body was becoming an empty shell.

Believe me. It won't get any worse than that. I won't let it.

It took a long time and I've traveled a long, hard road to bring you the most important (I believe) piece of writerly advice I can give.

That is: You'll go crazy writing what you think other people might want to read and living how you think other people might want you to live. Don't do it. Instead, write what you feel, and don't be afraid to let people see you are real.

Peace and happiness.

Friday Confessional: Take me to your mullet

I miss hair bands.

Like this... (more below)



I miss seeing rock stars with long, gorgeous hair. (I think this explains a lot about the era in which my first novel is set.)

I don't, however, miss mullets. Like the one my husband once had. He doesn't sport one anymore. Thankfully.


But he did. I used to tell him he looked like one of the survivors of Lynyrd Skynrd's plane crash.


He took it as a compliment. He was proud of his honest-to-goodness, head-banging, Joe-Dirt mullet.

Once -- when he still had his mullet -- we stopped at a gas station in Kansas. A pick-up truck full of redneck teens (hey, they had shotguns in the back window) started pulling out of the parking lot just as we climbed out of the car.

I kid you not: The driver of the truck slammed on his brakes, leaned out the window and cried out, "Hey, that's Joe Dirt!"

The excitement in his voice suggested the kid had just seen God. He hadn't. He'd only seen a hair lord.

Deep down, I'm pretty sure my husband knew the kid was playing with him. Dana didn't care. He pumped his fists in the air and hollered back, "Yeah, man, right on."

And I ducked back into my seat.

Yep, I really miss hair bands. Some of the hair styles. . .not so much.

What's the worst hair style you've ever had?

Influence

There's always something interesting going down on Lynn Rush's blog.
Sometimes she tests your movie trivia. Sometimes she sends you on walks down memory lane. And sometimes she makes you bust a gut laughing at her Friday Funnies.
Yesterday, she blogged about The Noticer Project that began on Michael Hyatt's blog.
The idea is to call out five people who have influenced you in your life as a way to recognize them. (Actually, he calls it a challenge, but I found the only challenge was narrowing it down to five people. So, of course, I cheat a little bit.)
Here are my five biggest influences.
1. Dana Harris. Of course, I'm going to list my husband. I think it would be ridiculous not to acknowledge the influence he's had on my life after being married almost 15 years. My husband has taught me faith and endurance. Often, I find myself envious of the courage he has displayed in the face of his alcohol addiction, and I admire the strength he has shown in lifting that "higher power" down from its pedestal and allowing God to move in its place.
2. Molly Harris. My 14-year-old has taught me patience. The first time I held Molly I didn't feel that warm, fuzzy feeling all new moms are supposed to feel. I believe the feeling in my heart was, "Oh crap ... ready or not, here life comes." For a long time, I felt unworthy to be responsible for something so fragile. I felt ill-equipped to handle 3 a.m. feedings, chronic constipation and unbridled colick. (Here's where Molly reads this, slams her computer shut and says, "Mom? Do you have to talk about my bowel movements on your blog?") I wondered when, oh when, would I feel those warm fuzzies new mom's always talk about. It didn't happen for a long, long time, but when it did, I cried. (And she said, "Geez, mom, you're such a bawl-baby!") :-)
3. Elizabeth Harris. My 7-year-old taught me that not all blessings are expected. Her presence in my life has shown me that accepting the unexpected surprises we are given can have lasting rewards. I had finally established a comfortable groove in my marriage and motherhood when I discovered I was preggers with Boop. Knowing how long it took to find the fuzzies with Molly, I wasn't ready to do the baby-mama thing all over again. But then, when she was only two weeks old, she smiled at me, and despite the fact that she had just peed on me at 2:30 a.m., I knew her and I would get along famously.
4. My sisters: Kim, Kelly, Kristi and my twin cousin, Jill. (Yeah, here's where I start cheating on that five people.) From these four people, I have learned how to laugh at myself (mostly because they spent so much time laughing at me when I was little). When I was two years old, I fell down the stairs in our split-level home and got rolled up in the runner (those plastic rugs with pokies on the bottom). Knowing I was uninjured in the ordeal, my family laughed at the sight of me trapped in that stupid rug. Even though I used to get angry whenever I heard one of them retell this story, I eventually realized how goofy it would have looked. (And how if my parents had had the sense enough to video tape the incident, I'd have won $100,000 on America's Funniest Videos.) And Jill, although she and I only managed to see each other once in a blue moon, the way we found the stupidest things to laugh at (screaming willows -- what is that?) has taught me to always find the humor in dull, depressing or otherwise rotten situations.
5. And lastly, my parents have taught me responsibility. (I'm not quite sure if they'll consider that a compliment or not, though.) Whether it was 110 degrees or four feet of snow, my father rarely missed a day of work. And my mother, who worked full-time up until a few years ago, still managed to find time to raise four daughters, make it to their extracurricular events and do all of the things traditional moms are supposed to do. I never realized how hard that stuff would be until I became a parent and had to put my own interests on the back burner to care for my family.
I'm grateful that each of these people are in my life. It's hard to imagine WHO I would be without you.
Now, who are your five?

Somethin' to talk about

The end.

Guess what, fellow writers? Those words only truly mean "the end" for those who are reading your book.

For writers, it means stepping into something new. This is a post for the writers who believe they will see "the end" turn into the beginning of a writing career.

If you're getting published and embarking on a new writing career, one of the "new" things you will need to know how to do is give a good interview.

I've been in print media for more than 10 years. Many of those years were spent as an entertainment editor, interviewing well-known public figures. (Everyone from Weird Al Yankovic to Joe Eszterhas to Poison and Third Day.)

I've learned a couple of things that may help folks on the giving end of the interview.

Here goes:

Just as the reporter needs to prepare for the interview, you need to go into the interview prepared, too.

Jot down a few notes beforehand. This will help you keep your thoughts focused and might keep you from sounding like a rambling idiot or giving one-word answers.

Practice doing interviews with a friend. Have your friend come up with a list of surprise questions. Record the conversation and when you play it back, pay close attention to your words. Are you speaking in complete sentences? Are you finishing your thoughts? Are you constantly interrupting yourself?

You might be surprised. I've met brilliant writers who can't give a coherent oral answer to save their neck.

A reporter might spring a few unexpected questions on you, but you can always rehearse the answers to questions that should be obvious: The ones regarding your characters, your book and what inspired you to write.

Have a good story to tell about YOU. Not only are you promoting your book, but you're establishing yourself as a writer and building a fan base. The way to do that is to build a personal connection with prospective fans. Make yourself human. Make yourself real. Tell them about YOU.

Be aware of the energy you're conveying during an interview. If you're excited about a project, chances are the reporter might get excited and become more eager about sharing your story and helping you create a buzz about your project.

(This might also come as a shock but just because you are being interviewed does not mean the person interviewing you is a fan. He or she may have received the interview assignment from the powers that be and are only talking to you to fulfill their job requirements.)
If doing a phone interview, use a land line whenever possible. Why? Reporters take every word you say as you say it. Cell phones -- although they are a handy-dandy device -- cut out often and do not always have the best sound quality. (Also find out beforehand whether the interview will be exclusively for a print story or if the reporter will be creating a podcast from it.)

And never, ever for the love of heaven and your own person, NEVER ask a reporter to read the story before it goes to print. This will be especially tempting if speaking with a reporter from your local newspaper.

Honestly, there is no bigger insult to a journalist; you wouldn't like it if they asked to double-check your work before you submitted it to your boss. Would you?

I didn't think so.

Any questions?

Pssst...tell me something I don't know

My friends send these via e-mail all the time. Since it's a Christmas-themed getting-to-know-you, I thought I'd use it as an opportunity to get to know YOU more.



1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Both, but I prefer wrapping in bags. (Ironically, I prefer opening paper.)

2. Real tree or Artificial? fake (look for Thursday's funny blog post about this)

3. When do you take the tree down? January 7

4. Do you like eggnog? eww
5. Favorite gift received as a child? See yesterday's post

6. Hardest person to buy for? My seven year old.
7. Easiest person to buy for? My 13 year old.
8. Do you have a nativity scene? Four (counting the one in the yard).
9. Mail or email Christmas cards? I'm horrible about this. Sorry.
10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Forks.

11. Favorite Christmas Movie? Home Alone/Christmas Vacation/A Christmas Story
12. When do you start shopping for Christmas? September

13. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yes. A bottle of alcohol.
14. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Frosted sugar cookies & peanut butter balls. Mmmmm.

15. Lights on the tree? Asolutely!
16. Favorite Christmas song? O Holy Night/Mary Did you Know?
17. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Stay home.

18. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? Yes.
19. Angel on the tree top or a star? Angel
20. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Morning

21. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Rude sales people
22. Favorite ornament theme or color? deep red
23. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Turkey

24. What do you want for Christmas this year? To wake up having a body that looks like Beyonce's.
25. Who is most likely to respond to this? I hope everyone.

26. Who is least likely to respond to this? Everyone who doesn't read it.



Now, you tell me about YOU. Leave YOUR answers in the comments.

Tagged to tell the truth

Tag! I'm it.

Abigail at blogging experiments tagged me. Now, I must tell seven random/weird things about myself, and then tag seven more people.



Weird things. Let me see.


1. I have several unnatural, debilitating fears, including heights, snakes and riding in cars.

2. I can bend my pinky finger so far back it nearly touches my wrist.

3. One night when I was eleven, my cousin and I stayed up until 2 a.m. writing fan letters to Duran Duran and gushed over how they would actually hold those same pieces of paper in their hands.

4. I agreed to go out with my first boyfriend because I needed a date for prom. (I was holding out for Nick Rhodes' marriage proposal.)

5. I can recite (verbatim) the lines from all three original Star Wars movies. (I wanted to marry Luke Skywalker, t00.)

6. I've listened to Lennon Murphy's "Damaged Goods" cd so many times I've worn grooves into it.

7. If ham and pineapple pizza was the only food left on the planet, I'd be good to go for 70 years.

**********************************************************

Here are the bloggers I've tagged.

Lynn at Light of Truth

JC at Nightmares & Dreamscapes

Sue at The Slag Hammer

Terri at Terri Rainer

Ali Katz at PracticalKatz (Also check out Miss Snark's First Victim to critique the first chapter of Ali's mss.)

Courtney Walsh at My Reasons

Rosslyn Elliot at inkhornblue

Have fun. I look forward to reading these.

A shameless ploy

Oh man.

It's like being picked last in kickball...

Always being the duck in duck, duck, goose!...

Not getting any Valentines on Feb. 14...

Having a crush on a guy who you think is interested, but then asks if you'll see if your best friend likes him...

Being ignored by your secret Santa...

Getting passed over for a promotion...

Having your kids tell you you're pretty . . . for an old lady...

It's this awesome new tool on blogspot that displays your blog followers. I saw it and thought, "How cool is that?"

So, I grabbed it for my blog.

But, alas, it's a pointless endeavor. I don't have any followers. :-(

Will you be my friend?

Word: a thing you dissect

One of my favorite movie scenes ever is in the "Black Sheep" starring Chris Farley and David Spade. They're driving a county-mountie patrol car to the governor's acceptance speech with plans to crash (pardon the pun) the party with news that the winner of the race cheated her way into office.

On the way, the nitrous tank in the back seat ruptures, and funny fumes start infiltrating the car. Farley and Spade's characters are overcome by the gas leak without realizing it. At one point, the characters start pulling apart words and laughing at them for the way they sounds.

"Roooo aadds." "Roaaaads." "Roooooooods."

"That's a funny word."

I've had this conversation -- honestly, no alcohol or narcotic was involved in the preparation of this blog post -- regarding funny-sounding words in the English language. It's funny how certain words affect people.

Here's a list of the ones I find strange:

Giggle: Def -- To laugh with repeated short, spasmodic sounds.
My mother called me a giggle box when I was four years old. Something about the sound of those two "G" sounds followed my an "L" hits my funny bone with the force of the desk corner. I can't help but laugh when I hear this word.

Scooter: Def -- From the word "Scoot," to go suddenly and speedily; hurry.
I never found this word strange until my husband dissected it one night while we watched Ren & Stimpy in college. Ever since then, I can't help hearing the strangeness of scooter.

Avarice: Def -- Immoderate desire for wealth; cupidity.
I don't find this word funny. I find the idea of this word as a noun and its definition funny. This word would be so much better if it were an adjective, and it's common use should include way more than the desire for wealth. Could you imagine what it would be like if someone could have "avarice thoughts" about another? Wow.

Quasquicentennial: Def -- a 125th anniversary
Not only does this word sound funny, it's nearly impossible to spell without a dictionary. It's also pointless to use in a sentence because no one really knows how many years are in a quasquicentennial and it's more character spaces than typing 125th anniversary and it's a heckofalot more difficult to say.

Colloquialism: Def -- a local or regional dialect expression
Another impossible-to-spell word that just sounds funny.

Those are a few of mine. How about you? Are there any strange words out there that just get you going?

A little bit me/A little bit you

I get these things sent to me all the time. So, to save time, I'm just going to start directing people to my blog for the answers.

Two names you go by:
1. Kathryn
2. Kat

Two things you're wearing right now:
1. Contacts
2. The amethyst ring my husband gave me in 1993. It means more to me than my engagement ring.

Two things you did last night:
1. Mowed the lawn
2. Worked on Chapter 12

Three things you want very badly at the moment:
1. Assured eternal salvation (or a nice bod, that would work too)
2. For everyone to know Heather's story

Two pets you've had or have
1. Dog -- Bruizer
2. Cat -- Fuzz Butt

Two people who will fill this out:
1. Probably no one
2. Anonymous

Two things you ate today:
1. Ham and Cheese sandwich
2. Pop Tart


Two people I talked to last night:
1. My husband, Dana
2. My daughters

Two things you're doing tomorrow:
1. Writing a story on the pastor who started www.faithmoments.com
2. Checking my e-mail.

Longest trips taken: As in farthest...
1. St. Louis, Mo.
2. The moon (in my daydreams)


Favorite holidays
1. Fourth of July
2. Thanksgiving

Two favorite beverages:
1. Diet Pepsi
2. Lemonade


Now here's the kicker, the fun part, the piece de...the piece of...the Reese's Pieces.
Copy these questions and answer them in the comments.