Balancing the Priorities

Daily Word count : 1,107

Total Word count on the WIP : 9,411

Sometimes I think the most difficult thing in life is setting priorities. Setting the direction you want to spend each moment of your life.  Balancing all the things we want.  I've figured out three things about the balance in my life.

1.) I require other people to keep me accountable. 

I tried going to the gym by myself for two years. I went sporadically, but  would often skip weeks at a time. When I made a commitment to go lift weights with a friend, I manage to go, even when she doesn't, because in my brain it is marked down in permanent marker as "Go to Gym with Friend Lizardface." 

(She doesn't look like a lizard. But she had a bad reaction one day to eating shellfish, and she called me to wail, "I have a face like a LIZARD. I have lizard-face!" The name has sort of stuck, but in my defense, she posted THIS picture of me to Facebook and is therefore not a good person.)

Seriously? I was trying to grab some lunch before I went back out to fight, and I was starving. Who takes a picture of a friend when they look like that?!  Lizardface. That's who.

That is the singularly most awful picture of me ever taken. Also, I leave the hyphen out of Lizardface because she is a librarian and it makes her nuts.

I didn't get much done on my novel until I joined a writer's group. We meet weekly, and take turns submitting. So every three weeks, I have to have SOMETHING done. And sadly, it usually gets done the day or so before I'm supposed to submit. 

But it gets DONE. That's the thing. The progress is slow, but there IS progress. And it's all due to other people keeping me honest.

2.) I admit that I only have room to prioritize four things at once.

The problem with this is I have about seven things I'd LIKE to prioritize.  Cleaning the house, making healthy meals and eating regularly, going to the gym, writing, armored combat, caring for the Buggit, and my calligraphy & illumination artwork. 

What do you mean we're out of bananas?!

Three of those slots are filled at the moment with baby care, cooking food, and the gym.  That means that writing fights with the other three for my time and attention. And the house does NOT get cleaned nearly enough. (Though cleaning a house with a 19 month old is sort of a Sisyphean task anyways.)  It means if I wanted to focus as completely on writing as I SHOULD, that the other things that make me happy (and keep my marriage functional) would suffer. So I've had to accept that even though I should be spending an hour or two a day on submissions, and at least two hours a day on writing, (about the time to get 700 words on an average day.), it's not going to happen, because SOMEONE has to do the dishes, and my husband works 12 hours a day so I can stay home with the Destroyer of Worlds.

When the baby is bigger perhaps I'll have more room for priorities, but right now, that is all there is.

3.) Trying to squeeze more time for extra priorities by sacrificing sleep, healthy meals, or regular exercise is REALLY STUPID counter-productive.

Turns out when I don't get enough sleep, my mood tanks, and I get more susceptible to fears, worries, beating myself up, depression, and other stupid stuff. The baby has had me on a regimen of sleep deprivation for the last 19 months, because she simply does NOT sleep through the night. Never has. At this point, I don't believe she ever will. Any further sacrifice of sleep is punitively painful the next day. If it happens two days in a row, I'm almost unable to function the third day. So staying up late to write until 2 a.m.? Can't happen for my own sanity. There are writers with kids who can do it, and I applaud their superhuman abilities. I can't. And I have reluctantly come to accept that.

Eating junk food? Affects my mood severely. I like cooking, and I'm an excellent cook. Sacrificing going grocery shopping and making dinner for time and Wendy's tends to send me into moody tailspins. I don't know why, but fast food with lots of grease and salt really screws with my emotional stability. Guilt over eating the fatty food? Neurotransmitter reactions? Don't know.  Had to accept that too.

Not exercising.  This was the newest epiphany, and it took me two years to really come around to believing, but when I make it to the gym regularly, I'm generally more productive over all for the rest of the day. Serotonin, endorphins, more neurotransmitters? Could be, but I've accepted that I get more done and am generally happier when I exercise regularly. Also, the gym has free daycare for 2 hours a day. So I get some non-baby sanity time. Also very good for me. :D

What hard lessons did you have to learn about priorities in your life?

My Day Today - Taking a Tally

Zumba this morning!  - YAY!

Baby does not wish to nap. - BOO!

Baby will nap, if Mommy lays down with her and tucks her into an armpit.  - YAY!

Alarm on phone fails to go off, and the friend I babysit for finds me snoring and drooling on my baby when she comes by to drop off her child.  - BOO!

Toddler Dance Party! (Toddlers dancing to Club music on the radio is hilarious.) - Yay!

Synchronized Toddler Poop!  - BOO!  And Ew. Two poopy toddlers do smell worse than one alone.

Nachos!  - YAY!

Toddlers are stealing all my nachos! - BOO!

....

More Nachos! - YAY!

On balance, I think I'm having a pretty good day.

Your House is on FIRE! - and other things I got to say this week

On my way home from Zumba a couple days ago, I passed a house with furniture burning in the carport.

My first thought?  "Baaad breakup."  Seriously.

But then I realized I didn't see anyone outside screaming "Take that, you asshole!" And I backed the car up to double-check.

Nope, uncontrolled fire in the carport, and licking its way towards the house. No persons with a hose trying to put it out.

So I called 911, and I gave them the address and situation, and they hung up on me! I would like to believe the call was dropped, but there were weird typing/transfer noises that indicated things were happening on the dispatch end, and then it hung up.

I called them back, and tried again. This time the dispatcher did not hang up on me, but asked questions. Where, how far from the house, blah blah. Then we both hung up.

The house seemed unoccupied (10:45 a.m. on a Tuesday), with the only car off to the side of the driveway, but I got out anyways, and went to bang on the door. I heard a little dog start barking furiously.

"Crap." I thought. I banged on the door again and yelled, "Your HOUSE is on fire!" I went back to the car, to find something to possibly break a window with, so I could let the dog out before the fire got to the house. Just as I got to my car, the homeowner poked her head out of the door, looking sleepy and confused.

I yelled, "Your house is on fire! You need to get your dog and get out!"  She started to come out, and I yelled, "Call your dog!"  She ducked back inside, and I could have kicked myself. Never let someone go back into a building that's on fire. Cardinal rule of fire safety. The fire was just starting to go after the carport, so I didn't immediately yell at her to come back. She came out again within the three minute mark of me going to yell at her again, with a large tabby and a little bichon frise-looking puppy the size of a chihuahua.

We put the pets into my car. Luckily, they did not seem disposed to mess with the baby in the car seat who was saying "Doggy! Doggy! Cat! Cat! Doggy!" They sat very nicely in the back seat. The dog roamed around a bit nervously, but the cat found a comfy spot, and assumed the meatloaf position with the placid acceptance of any obese cat in a situation that shows no signs of involving food, pettings, or being chased.

My husband is a paramedic with the fire station literally a half-mile away, so I was really curious to see who would show up.  First on the scene was the battalion chief in the special "Chief truck!" He confirmed that I wasn't a crazy, and that the fire was real. Then he got a fire extinguisher out of the truck and ran up to the house. By this time, the carport was going up, and I wasn't sure how much good he was going to do, but I found out later that he was trying to surround the fire so it wouldn't spread.

Next was a fire truck from another station, and then my husb rolled up in his truck. He yelled at me to Go Home! (With a smile), and I yelled back "I can't! I have her pets in the car!"  He paused. "With my daughter?!"  "They're very nice animals!"

He checked on the homeowner while she watched the FD put out the fire, and then went to verify that I had not in fact left our child to be eaten alive by strange pets. (And to play peekaboo with the buglet.)

The homeowner's mother showed up shortly after, and we tried to transfer the animals to her car. The dog went easily, but the cat dug ALL four feet into the seat, and had to be forcibly dragged out of the car. No yowling, no biting, just a narrow-eyed determination to keep all fifteen pounds of cat planted precisely where it was.

The mom and the homeowner both thanked me, and I went home feeling proud of myself for not screwing up my role as a good neighbor.

Now I told you that story to tell you this one.  I posted about it on Facebook, feeling that I had had an interesting morning. I got a deluge of "WOW YOU'RE A HERO!" I got really upset. Because what I did was not heroic. It was what you SHOULD do as a decent human being. It is what I would hope any random person would do.  It is a major part of my belief system that deep down, people will do the right thing when pushed.

I complained to my husband, and he confirmed that in fact, it is NOT the common action of people calling 911 to either stick around, or bang on the door, or even to call and give the dispatcher full information.

It shouldn't be that way, I argued.  It is, he replied. But it shouldn't be.

I don't care what he says. I'm going to keep my faith in humanity's better half.  And I did get a reasonably good idea for a short story from the whole thing, so hey. Win, win.

Preparing for Nanowrimo

Three days until Nanowrimo begins! And how best to utilize these days?

1.)  I'm going to send off all the query letters waiting on my spreadsheet, so they can't distract me with "needing to be done".

2.) I'm going to work on an outline for the current WIP instead of meeting the daily word count. (You know what optimism is? Writing the second book in a detective series, before the first one finds a home. :D ) I tend to be a seat of the pants writer, and this leads to large periods of not-writing while I try to figure out where I want to go next.

3.) I am going to set a list of priorities, and figure out a rough daily schedule. If I know that I will be doing the dishes at 4 p.m., I won't get up from writing at 10:30 to go do them.  Also, if I decide to go rake leaves instead of writing, I'll check the priority chart. Lawn care should not trump my writing. I'm going to write this list down and post it prominently, so I can remind myself I am in "writing time", and things try to distract my flaky brain. November is going to be my month to try and work on my writing routine and best practices.

What strategies do you have for making your writing time productive?

Happy St. Crispin's Day!

"If we are mark’d to die, we are enow 
To do our country loss; and if to live, 
The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. 
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, 
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; 
It yearns me not if men my garments wear; 
Such outward things dwell not in my desires. 
But if it be a sin to covet honour, 
I am the most offending soul alive. 
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. 
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour 
As one man more methinks would share from me 
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! 
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, 
That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; 
his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse; 
We would not die in that man’s company 
That fears his fellowship to die with us. 
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian. 
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, 

And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 

He that shall live this day, and see old age, 

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, 

And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.” 

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, 

And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.” 

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, 

But he’ll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day. 

Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words-

Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-

Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.

This story shall the good man teach his son; 

And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by, 

From this day to the ending of the world, 

But we in it shall be remembered-

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; 

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me 

Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, 

This day shall gentle his condition; 

And gentlemen in England now-a-bed 

Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, 

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks 

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Come on writer-friends! We band of brothers once more into the fray of query letters and the slaughter of darlings! It is St. Crispian's Day! 

The Ten Commandments of Garage Sales

My mother took me with her to garage sales almost every Saturday for most of my childhood. I went mostly in self-defense. If I went, I could nix clothes that I didn't like, or make sure to snag new books I was interested in. I never realized that during that time that I was also receiving an education in the separate culture of garage sale mavens.

1. Thou shalt not hold a garage sale, planning to make money.

If you think of a garage sale as an opportunity to make money, you'll price your second-hand schmutter too high. If there's one thing guaranteed to offend all garage sale patrons, from the casual once-a-year saunterer to the weekly devotee, it's walking into a garage sale and finding things priced too high. The purpose of a garage sale is to get everything you want to get rid of out of the house, and get other people to help you haul it off in exchange for a pittance. Not making money.  If you want to make money, then work ebay and craigslist. Yes, I know it's a hella more trouble. But that's how it works.

2. Open Early.

The weekly devotees all get up at 5 a.m. and decide which garage sales they're going to and in what order over their morning coffee. If you open at 7 a.m., you've got a better chance of them coming your sale first with all their money. By 9 a.m. all garage sales are open, and the competition is fierce.

3. Advertise the Unique

*Every* garage sale has clothes, books, and toys. Every single one. Do not lead off your advertisement with those items. Anything unusual you have, like specific types of furniture, musical instruments and equipment, collectible items like Hummel figurines, power tools, etc. are much better to mention in your ads.

4. Advertise Widely 

Put advertisements on your local craigslist, check the local newspapers for online advertisement options (Usually free), if there's a local radio station that discusses yard sales or estate sales, put in a call. If you're in a rural area with only newspaper options, take out a cheap ad. Don't assume they'll drive by your house by accident.  Put your address and the time you want to start.

5. Make Directional signs that are legible from 10+ feet away.

Put out LARGE signs saying YARD SALE, with arrows, the date, and your address if you can fit them all in without sacrificing size. Nothing makes my mother more furious than having to stop in the middle of the road to try and squint at a sign the size of a manila envelope with tiny writing of hollow bubble letters. It's not only dangerous for traffic, but if you failed to advertise your sale, people won't know where to go, and will get frustrated and angry. Also, the Date is really important, because if they didn't see any advertisements for your sale, they may assume that the sign is old and out of date. Again, not what you want.

6. Embrace the Haggle.

People will make offers. They will usually look at your price tag, and offer half to a third of what you wrote. If its not a hot item like the unique things listed above, take the offer. Chances of another buyer coming along and wanting that same pair of lime green Bermuda shorts aren't good, and you'll be left with a lot of crap all over your moral high ground.

7. Set an End Time as well, to tempt the Sweepers.

Some professional garage salers - yes, they exist - will plan to hit large sales at the end of sale in order to try and scoop things they're interested in at ridiculously cheap prices. Telling them when the sale ends means they can plan to come hit your sale at the end. They may or may not, but setting an end time gives them the option.

8. Have Change.

This seems fairly self-evident, but if you price anything for a dime, you'd better have nickels and dimes for the quarters you're going to get. Have plenty of ones and fives. You'll be handed twenties for something that costs a quarter, especially if you open early, and people need to break change. If you don't have change, they won't buy your stuff.

9. Do not Stare at your Customers with the Beady-Eyed "Don't ya dare steal my stuff!" face.

This one always irritates me when I go to garage sales. If you're that protective of it, you can damn well keep it. And if you think that people can't tell that you're concerned about them swiping stuff, you are incorrect. If you need extra sugar in your coffee to smile at people, then load it up. You're getting rid of it, remember? It's worthless to you. See Rule number one.

10. Hold your sale in the open, with easy access to all the items.

Lately I've been seeing a lot of sales being held in someone's apartment. Frankly, that creeps me right the hell out. I do not want to step inside a stranger's home. One, it's weird. Two, I feel trapped, and I may not want your crap. Also, if you hold it in your backyard, please don't make me walk through knee-high grass to a dark, badly-lit shed. Put stuff out on tables so it can be easily seen. Stuff on the ground means I have to kneel down to look at it. If I have bad knees or a bad back, I may skip the trouble.

Guess what I did last weekend!  Made $80 and got lots of room in my shed/spare bedroom now!

Amazing case of avoidable Waffle-foot...

Waffle-foot - the condition caused by repeatedly shooting oneself in the foot.

So, I'm catching up on my blog-reading, having been crazystupidbusy the last few days with a sick daughter and husband birthday celebration.

I finally get around to reading parts 2 and 3 of the GUTGAA Agent interview.

Oh hey, there's one of the agents who requested a partial.  What'd she say about pet peeves?

... Oh God.

She hates when you mention things from her agent profile in your email.  And if I'd read her interview question before I send off the thingies, I'd have known that.  I can't help but think she's going to read the email I sent (mentioning a mutual love of the authors she mentions in her profile), and immediately trash the query, because it's reasonable to think I'd seen her response, and then ignored her preferences.

I thought I was showing that I'd tried to do my research and was happy to find some common ground to address the letter, since I couldn't put my query letter in there.

*sigh*

Dammit. Maybe she'll just download the attachments and not read the email. Right? ...

Crapperdoodles.