Hey, It Won't Be Long Now!

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Job Hunting

But first, a message about my brain.

Your Brain's Pattern

You have a tempered, reasonable way of thinking. You tend to take every new idea in, and meld it with your world view. For you, everything is always changing. Each moment is different. Your thinking process tends to be very natural - with no beginnings or endings.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

Another Day in Blogger Hell

I flipped my blog over to the new Blogger beta thingie and it has refused to let me in for two days. On top of that, my tab and my ctrl C and ctrl V both stopped working. But I have finally gotten it all back up to speed and maybe I can move forward. Maybe not for long.

I'm working on pre-launch promotion on my book. That is going well. I have many ARC reviewers lined up and now I am waiting on my copy edit. And waiting. And waiting.

Waiting is what I do.

Teenagers are a kick

I really do adore teenagers. They are the most creative and goofy characters.

Take for instance my older daughter who, when discussing all her many activities at school and life, suddenly blurted out, "I'm an overexceeder, Mom. I just can't help myself."

"No, honey," I said, "that's overachiever."

She looked at me like I was crazy and hinted that maybe I was a little jealous because she invented new words and I had never done that.

And so it went. This is also the girl who put her face down on her desk when asked by one teacher to put her test face down. I understand that traveled through the channels in the teacher's lounge. And it was cute. Our Little OverExceeder kind of felt that it made her notorious, and she was so proud of that fact. In fact, we brag about it to everyone we know even today!

But now her sister, our Little UnderAchiever, is coming up in the ranks. She can be seen hiding behind her bangs (thank God they're not green), or passing notes about her teacher to the girl on the left. She doesn't want to seem too smart, so she won't be the one waving her hand in the air when the teacher asks a question. NO, she will hide behind her cloak of invisibility and it is her job, not mine, to remove it.

The older one always told us what was going on. In fact, she told us WAY more than we wanted to know. The little one? Well, getting stuff out of her was like prying the door molding off the wall.

So with her, we've had to resort to a higher power.

Wendy's and Target. They're about as high as you can get.

In the past, we've had to beg for information and bribe her with things like a Frostie at Wendy's or new socks from Target if we want to get anything out of her. She has so many socks that I had to buy her a new dresser. Then there was all the garbage from the Frosties and the sock packages. My garbage man started asking questions about the socks, and really, it's so personal. This has become a costly endeavor, never mind the probing eye of the garbage man, and we would like to change. But, alas, we are parents of the worst sort (American) and seem totally unable to evolve. It is because of this that our Little Underachiever is so unique and stubborn. And we are so proud of her!

There are times when we could have used a little help, but we never asked. These teenagers are of our making (it's like genes meet jeans) and we love them just the way they are. We think they're wildly creative and they think we're really old and stupid. But it works for us!

The Ernie and Bert Terror Alert

Nail Biting 101

Since I'm a writer, I should probably talk about books, the business, revisions, book covers, reviews, agents, editors, publishers, promotion, marketing, and deadlines. But there are so many people who do that so well that I think I'll skip that and talk about the things that interest me.

Like nail biting.

I have been a dedicated nail biter for a very long time. I started when I was about three, I think, and I have managed to perfect it as an art form. There's the bite-and-rip, which often leaves bloody corners in the nail bed. There's the nibble, where you just take chunks off the very end of the nail. And there is the cuticle-assault, where you gnaw on the dry cuticles until you expose raw skin. And always, there is the healing period where you look at your nails and sigh because they look like crap.

Nail biting is an activity that centers around anxiety and stress. There's dramatic- music-in-a-movie nail biting, which is my favorite. Lesser forms include I'm-late-for-work, my-husband-is-pissing-me-off, my-teenager-won't-look-me-in-the-eyes, and the ever-fun oh-let's-just-bite-because-that's-what-I-do.

So, imagine my surprise when I looked down the other day and realized that I hadn't bitten my nails in a really long time. They had actually grown to the end of my fingers! You can imagine my surprise at discovering that I had broken the habit of nail biting without doing a thing.

There are several theories floating around about how that could have happened. Someone (my husband) hypnotised me in my sleep. I was taken over by an alien. I don't have stress in my life anymore because I've reached a whole new level of consciousness and my all time favorite --I just don't know.

This is truly disturbing. Now don't get me wrong. I like having nails and everything. But I'm a bit perturbed that I've made this big life change and somehow I wasn't aware that I was doing it. And considering how much energy the other changes in my life have taken, this one is a real surprise.

To celebrate my new nails, I went out and bought some really expensive polish, a nail file, and cuticle oil. They are sitting on my desk so I can, at a moment's notice, primp those puppies. I've learned to file the sides so they don't look quite so wide (I guess I have big fingers). I can put on polish with my left hand (a feat that was not easily learned), and I do spend a lot of time admiring these rose-colored magnificants.

But I do have to wonder what's next? Will I wake up thin? Will my gray hair go back to being brown? Will my fallen arches suddenly rise to their original position? Are the lines on my face going to disappear?

This is the beauty of life. You just never know what's around the next corner.

This is Cool!

I applied to be a writing mentor to a teenager at Absynthe Muse the other day and I was accepted. I'm hoping to work with an incarcerated teen but I don't know when I start yet.

And I'm kind of excited about this. I really like to teach and I really love teenagers. So, I'll have to keep you informed.

I'm back from Eastern Washington. I had a great time with my 20-year-old. She is such a kick. Great sense of humor, goofy as hell, full of energy, and definitely lacking in the vocabulary department.

When she was about 17, she came to me one day to talk. "Mom," she said, "I'm having a problem. I'm really stressed with school and leadership and all."

So, I said, "Back off a little. Maybe you took on too much."

"Yeah, you're probably right," she answers. "I really am an overexceeder."

I start laughing. "It's not overexceeder, kiddo. It's overachiever."

She looks at me kind of dumbfounded. "Same thing," she says. "Then she kind of smiles. "And," she says, "no wonder I'm so worn out. I even make up words."

I'm Back -- Again!

It's been the summer of driving back and forth across Washington State. First, it was Spokane for the Fourth of July. Then it was Chelan for our summer vacation. And last it was to the unversity where my daughter is studying.

There is something really nice about seeing your children do well. Or watching them smile and laugh as they glide through life. I rode home feeling very grateful to have great kids, a nice husband, a home I love, and future that excites me because I know I am VERY fortunate.

I've Been Neglectful

I know, I know. My usually funny posts about something in my life have really slipped of late. Ever since I went on vacation, I haven't been able to get back into the swing of things.

I think what's happened is that I've been home too long. What I need is a new job and something to do eight hours a day. This sitting here at the keyboard and periodically clicking on every favorite link is getting old.

I know, I know. I could be writing. But there's no incentive. No pressure. No reason to get on with it. I'm really slipping.

I don't get out enough. My local mall is not that thrilling. There's usually three or four businesses going OUT of business and something new is always coming in, but
there's only so many times you can drool at the goodies in Victoria's Secret before you start looking like the town mental case. In fact, things are so bad that I forgot to use my $10 off birthday certificate from them. It just rattles me.

I've even stopped cleaning. And since my little Electrolux vacuum decided to die, I haven't felt so bad about doing nothing. I asked my husband to take it to the vacuum fixing guy and he lamented that he'd been there two times in the last month and the guy was going to start charging him more. He actually wanted me to take it to someone here, locally. I gasped and put my hand to my neck! He wanted me to do something? Go out and talk to the public? My God, the man has gone over the deep end.

I do have a lunch date with a friend tomorrow, at another mall. This one is much more entertaining. I could kill a day there.

Or I could go back to the casino. Last time I went, my husband warned me not to bet too high on those penny machines. Wouldn't want to let forty-five cents go down the drain at one time, no, not me. I was so traumatized by his warning that I bet one cent on the machines and it took me (gasp) six hours to lose $40. Actually, it was the longest losing streak I've ever had.

And that's another thing. When I came back from the casino, my husband tells me that maybe there is a message in the fact that I haven't won a dime at the casino in months. He gave me that tilted head look, the "honey, you're wasting good money" stare, but he said nothing else. I looked back at him. "Yes, there is a message here, I am sure of it. I need more practice!" And I planned my next deposit at the Tulalip Casino.

Don't you love Indian casinos? I do. There's nothing like the rush of five gazillion burning cigarettes to get your throat burning. And the thrill of winning, that one really gets me. There's a certain excitement as you watch a guy sit down at the machine you just lost on, put in a 9 cent bet, and win $85.00. Yep, it's exhilarating, especially since I'd been praying all day, "Give me a winner, Lord. Come on, let me win some money." So, finally He gives me a good machine and I move off it before it starts paying off.

I think that's what my husband meant about the message. That maybe somehow God was looking down and telling me to get my ass out of that casino. Well, if I do that, what am I going to do with all my time? Tell me, huh? Just what am I going to do?

Great Lyrics

My daughter played this song by Beck for me today and I'm just mesmerized by the lyrics. You have to listen to this. You can find it on Media Player by doing a search. It reminded me of a few relationships I had as a teen where I had to give up on people and leave them behind. Here are the lyrics:

Beck - Lost Cause Lyrics


Your sorry eyes
cut through the bone
Make it hard to leave
you alone
Leave you here
wearing your wounds
Waving
your guns at somebody new

[chorus]:
Baby you're a
lost,
baby you're a lost
Baby you're a lost cause

There's too many people
you used to know
They see you coming,
they see you go
They know your
secrets,
and you know theirs
This town is crazy,
nobody
cares

[chorus]

I'm tired of fighting,
I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause

There's a place you are going
You ain't never
been before
No one laughing
at your back now
No
one's standing at your door
That's what you
thought love was for

[chorus]

I'm tired of
fighting, I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost
cause

Adding Content

In the spirit of better websites everywhere, I have added some content to mine today. One of the things that might interest you writers out there is the query letter writing article. There's also one on school bullying that actually placed in the Writer's Digest contest a while back (a long while back).

I've also put up a couple of other things, including a flyer for book that comes out in February.

Find them on the "other stuff" page on my website, which is here:
www.judygregerson.com



(Blogspot is screwing with my mind again and won't make my link appear, so if there are two links on your screen, just click on one.)

I'm Not Dead

Contrary to popular opinion, I am not dead. I'm back from vacation and trying to get into some sort of routine which will probably include finding a job now that summer is about over. Ugh!

But I need a diversion. I spent most of the summer working on pre-launch promotion for my forthcoming book, bad birls club, in February. It took hours and hours of research to get the information I needed to create the kinds of connections I want for publicizing my book. I've read four books on public relations (I worked in the field, so not much of it is new except the fine details of book promotion), a book on publicizing your book by an industry insider, and several other books on marketing (also my background).

And after about 6 weeks, I'm sick of it. Sick of all of it. I don't want to read another book, send another email, or contact another reviewer even if my life depended on it. I don't know how people do this full time because as fun as it was to jump into, it's equally fun to get away from. Not something I'd want to do full time. Ugh.

The book business is sometimes very exhausting. There is no end to the things you can do to publicize a book, but there is an end to my patience. I've reached it today.

But, after a few weeks rest, I'll probably be at it again. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of doing a reprint of my first book, in paperback this time, and getting that on the market to sell. I must be crazy.

In case anyone wondered

This is how the head shot turned out.

Fun in the Sun

Oh, the joys of vacation! Afternoons at the beach. Warm nights watching the sun go down. Good meals. Sun stroke.

Yeah, sun stroke. It's a real fun part of going on vacation. I've never had it before and I hope to never get it again, but two days ago I did get sun stroke and thought I might die.

I've been in the sun during the summer all my life. I've never had a problem. I use sun block. SPF 45, as a matter of fact. I hang on my floatie for hours every day and I've always been fine.

Not the other day. And it scared the crap out of me.

Everything was fine. I'd been at the beach for a few hours and came back to the condo to eat dinner. Suddenly, I was nauseous. Horribly nauseous. Then I became very hot. I didn't think much of it, and headed to the casino. While there, I became very weak and didn't think I'd make it home. I had no idea what was happening to me, but I knew I was getting very, very sick. So I headed back to the condo (and left my winning penny slot machine!). On my way home, I became disoriented and ended up at the grocery store rather than the condo. But I was able to pull it together and get back home. My husband took one look at me and handed me a big glass of water. I went to bed and after about 20 minutes, I could feel the weakness leave my body. The nausea went. My temperature dropped.

I ran into an EMT in town yesterday and told her about what happened. Yep, heat stroke she said. Not good.

I don't think I'll ever feel the same about going to the beach. I now have a six pack of Gatorade at my side. And bottles of water.

Five Days on the Family Yacht

I haven't posted for a while because I was getting ready for our annual trip to Lake Chelan, where I totally relax and have fun. Now I am here, relaxing and having fun and also catching up on what's happening in cyberspace. I cannot live without my laptop.

So, yesterday afternoon, after the crowds had left the beach, my husband I launched the yacht. There is nothing so fine as being on the water, feeling the rocking of the waves beneath you, and listening to the water lap upon the side of your boat. I love to sit there and feel myself go with the water as I look out on the lake and the hills that surround it.

"So, uh, what do you think?" the hubby says.

"Oh, this is very cool. Better than last year."

"Well, we had a better year, we can afford more."

"True, and daughter number one is buying her own food now at college. That helps a lot."

"Yeah, and even though you quit your job to publicize your book, we're still ok."

"That's right."

"So, what do you want to name her?"

"The family yacht?"

"Oh, I don't know. You have any ideas?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Such as?"

"How about we call it Floatie One and Floatie Two."

And we're back to reality.

"Darn you, why did you have to remind me that I'm on a floatie. I was really getting into the boat fantasy."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, sorry my foot!"

Graceful Like a Rock and 10 free ARCs

She was a woman who, between courses, could be graceful with her elbows on the table.
Henry James
(1843-1916)

Yeah, well, I put my elbows on the table all the time and I look as graceful as anyone else.

Well, the week is shaping up. And here's the blather on me.

Yesterday I had my head shot done by a professional photographer. Let's just say that my face muscles freeze when I have to pose for anyone, so it wasn't easy getting great pictures of me. But I need them and I have to have them right away, so I tried my best. He took 600 pictures and out of that, I think we'll probably get 10 really decent ones. I'll have proofs tomorrow and final copies in a week maybe. And that will be the end of that.

I've done my advising at college and I'm going to finish my degree. This might take a few years, but I can finish up all my requirements in two quarters and then move on to upper level stuff. I've wanted to do this for a long time since my first two tries at college were dismal affairs. Perhaps the third will be the charm.

I've made my list of who gets ARCs (Advance Reader Copies)of my book. If anyone out there wants one and is willing to do a review, send me an email and I'll see that you get one. That's unless I get four gazillion people asking for ARCs and I really don't have that many. So, let's say the top 10 people can have one. You need to tell me who you review for and where to send the book. And I would like a copy of the review.

That's it.

My Internet Has Fallen and It Can't Get Up!

bedlam
Definition: (noun) A place or situation of noisy uproar and confusion. (Like my desk today.)


Ok, I'll bite on the idea that heat wrecks computers. And I believe it only because both my friend's computers crashed today, another said hers acted like it might, and mine nearly did.

I think the AOL Virus and Protection Software Thingie lost its mind this morning and if the heat factor is what started up the AOL crankiness, I think this is what happened:

The Cranky Virus Protection Thingie (CAOLVPT) probably was not happy to begin with because it had to compete with AVG Virus Protection (AVGVP). AVGVP is very hot (as everyone knows), so I'm sure that jealousy is to blame. You know how jealousy works. You can't stand to see anyone else do well, so you plot your revenge in dainty little steps, as you plan on completely destroying your enemy. I'm sure that the CAOLVPT worked itself into a lather and then cast its venom upon my computer like a drunk throwing up a gallon jug of MD 20/20. It disabled AVGVP (mwahahaha) on the first wave of nausea. That had to have felt really, really good (and you know how it feels to get rid of some really bad hooch). I mean, how can CAOLVPT compete with a high class program like AVGVP? And now it was knocked on it's ass.

When it saw that it could get away with that, the second wave came, only this one was worse. It began an insidious and relentless attack upon the poor, pitiful components of my computer. First it disabled my CD drive, then my Control Panel, and finally Internet Explorer. Was that enough? NO, it wasn't. There were yet more waves to come. The last had empowered it to continued it's rein of terror (spewing of puke) by disabling YahooIM, my Start Taskbar, my Windows Media Player and my Dancer. (Can't tell you how much I missed that one.) You wouldn't have wanted to see my computer at this point, so I won't describe it.

But then, as it always is with revenge, the CAOLVPT began to turn its wrath upon itself, completely taking out the AOL program in one last bolt, sending sparks flying in every direction. Smoke bellowed from the box. Moans were heard. And then it died.

But I was not defeated. No, not I. At that very moment, God was looking down on me and parting the clouds as I busily worked away on my machine and I think I heard the sound of harps and a heavenly choir. It was one of those moments when you realize that life is worth living and you must press on, no matter what the cost! I uninstalled, I reinstalled, I pleaded, I begged, I promised. I lay prostrate on the floor and then I got up because I knew that my answer had come (belief is a powerful thing, you know).

Let's just say that I cleaned it all up in one felled swoop and managed to get everything running really well. The room became brighter and for a moment, I nearly felt divine. But when I got on AOL, all my saved mail was gone, as were all my links and my address book. I was able to import the mail and the links, but the address book is yet to be seen. AOL tells me that its server will find it and send it to me, but as of yet, it hasn't returned.

I will wait, though. I love my address book. It was the only casualty of this war (see the Crow War posts) but I am taking it hard. I will stand at my computer (OK, sit) and wait for it to pop its pretty little face upon my screen and then I will know that I have lived to fight another day.

As the Heatwave Subsides

Subsides is a misleading word. What the headwave is doing is holding on by its teeth as it's being ripped out of the atmosphere by some other front that's coming in behind it. And that means that today it's hotter than hell again, but it will probably be gone tomorrow.

Probably is a misleading word. In the world of Seattle weather forecasts, nothing is a given. They can say sun and it will rain. They can say cool and it can be hot. They can say snow and we'll get a 60 degree day. Of course, from September to June you can say rain and it probably will rain during some point of that day. Ah, the power of cheese! (I mean prediction.)

So, as the heatwave holds on for dear life, I continue my search for an agent. I'm a tad perkier today because it's not 90 in my house today. It's only a chilling 86, but that four degrees is enough to take my mind out of a fog and put the synapses back in place. Yes, I can think again. I'm burning up but the brain is working. And the agent search is on.

So, as I await word from someone in New York City (Hello, I'm over here!), I will get back to my MG novel and try to be good. The heat has taken all the feistiness out of me. And my recent computer problems have exhausted me, thank you AOL.

On to Day Two of the Heat Wave

Quotation of the Day
You may deceive all the people part of the time, and part of the people all the time, but not all the people all the time.
Abraham Lincoln
(1809-1865)

I don't know how that will affect my day, but maybe it will.

Well, day two of our heatwave is upon us. It's looking kind of cloudy out there and I can only hope that a huge thunderhead rolls in and ends this misery. I tried to write yesterday but my brain cells were percolating instead of making synapse connections, so I gave that up. Besides, who can write when it's 91 degrees in your house? Not I!

Besides, moderate temperatures are why I moved to Seattle. Well, that's a lie. I moved here for some guy, if the truth be told, and then he dumped me I ended up living in this mansion/boarding house with a selection of odd characters and weirdos. There was the guy who claimed to be hiding out from some good old boys in the deep south. The transexual who was half way through the sex change process. The longshoreman I eventually married and then quickly divorced when he decided that I should support him. There was the ballerina who didn't dance and the school teacher who also eventually got married. My favorite was the guy with the Harley who took me for rides all over Seattle on his bike. We also had an engineer, a freelance writer for Time Magazine who went to Central America for some coup and ended up stabbed in the chest. There was the aloe salesman who had everyone drinking aloe juice, and really, I forget the rest. Oh, and of course, there was the landlady who often ended up getting beat to a pulp by guys who worked for her when she stopped payment on their checks. No end of fun in that place!

It was also the place where I was electrocuted. I was living in the sunroom. Everyone there had space heaters and you ran them day and night because the landlady refused to turn on the heat. Anyway, mine had been going for a long time and one day I accidentally picked up the cord (which had frayed) and got a zap so big it sent me flying through the French doors. And all the while I am thinking that this was a pretty silly way to die. You know how your life flashes before you when you're dying? Well, the only thing that flashed before me was this: so this is how it all ends!

As you know, I lived. I did have electrical burns all down my arm and I've really not been quite the same since. I should write about living in the Pink Palace, as we called it. But mostly I'm trying to forget.

So, what does this have to do with our heatwave? Nothing, really. Nothing at all.

Something New to Worry About

Be on guard against men who can strike from a distance.
Aesop
(620 BC-560 BC)

How far is a distance? A few feet? A couple hundred yards? A mile? Maybe 2000 miles? Perhaps the next blog in Blogspot's list of ramblers like myself?

This is just what I need today. It's not like I don't have enough to worry about and now I have to think about what could be coming out of nowhere, at any time, and without warning.