Author Archives: Hillary

When Your Brand is Hate.

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My answer is, “Piss Off.”

Abercrombie and Fitch hates me. They always hated me, even when I got thin some years back and looked better in my double-digit-but-not-fat-kid clothes than most chicks do in a size six. Why? Because I wore an extra large sized shirt and Abercrombie only carries small, medium, and large.

Now, at my thinnest, I wore said extra large shirt for two reasons:

- broad back
- huge tatas

No real belly to speak of, nor was I bursting at the seams. But, according to Lurch (AKA Mike Jeffries), that broad back and those huge boobies made me UNCOOL. I wasn’t petite so I didn’t fit into the American standard of beauty. It doesn’t matter that I was* smoking hot and many bipedal creatures hit on me daily. Because I didn’t fit into a dainty, dew-faced stereotype, he didn’t want me in his duds.

Why? Because he wants to capitalize on the American divide in high schools between COOL and UNCOOL and the first way to do that is sort by size. Never mind that the divide’s responsible for a lot of problems facing teens: bullying, low self-esteem, eating disorders, hazing. Shit, perpetuating the mentality of In is a money maker! Pure profit, yo. Who wants to bother loving thy neighbor when you can say, “Screw your neighbor because they’re fat, ugly, and poorer than you.” Thems some good American values!

Let’s up the ante on the offensiveness, yeah? While A&F only carries S – L for the girls, they DO carry XL and XXL for the boys, because the boys might be athletes. Or, you know, funny. Because the funny guy can be popular and fat and that’s perfectly fine, but the moment a girl is into that size 10/12, FUCK HER. She’s out. Not cool, don’t you dare put on their brand. You could be the funniest fat chick this side of the cosmos and Abercrombie wants nothing to do with you.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Did I mention they burn their excess clothes because they don’t want the homeless in their brand? Yeah. They do that. Remainder clothes are destroyed so it doesn’t get in the hands of anyone, you know, dirty. Then there was that whole blatantly racist thing against Asians some years back, too, because they want to make sure they alienate everyone. Oh! And thanks, Lewis, for reminding me about the sexying up children thing they’ve been accused of multiple times.

So basically what I’m seeing here is, like, two out of fifteen people are allowed to wear their shit. White skinny people. They only want pretty white skinny people, though, so while you might be skinny enough, if you’re ugly they frown on you wearing their shirts. Their pretty salespeople might attack you when you walk in the door. IF you can walk in the door, that is – the goddamn store reeks like a French whorehouse. Too much cologne and you can smell it down the hall.

Anyway, as a human who doesn’t like shitty companies with shitty policies, the next time someone asks for gift certificates there or a pair of jeans or wants you to support this Douche-Making corporation, I’ma ask you to JUST SAY NO. Best way to tell a company they’re a problem is to get them where it counts. Which, in this case, is in the pocketbook. Screw haters right in the face.

(*I said was. I am still aware of my appeal even at my slightly orbital size. But it was an example, so don’t get in ma grill, yo. <3)

All Things Disney World. Part One. FOOD.

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Good morning, Internet! Perhaps you know me as your local shambling monster. Perhaps it’s, “Oh, hey, that creepy chick is looking in our windows again” or “Oh. It’s her. Get the RAID.” Either way, I’m here to drop some knowledge in a way that’d make Mr. T proud.

(And for those of you embryos out there who don’t know who Mr. T is, first I pity you, fools, and offer this sliver of my childhood for you to mock. And really, it’s deserving of the mockery. Why did anyone ever think dressing that way was cool? WHY?)

Onto the meat of the post. I go to Disney far more than most people I know. Probably ten times in so many years? Maybe a dozen in fifteen, I don’t know. There’s a bit of a stigma with this, I know, in that people who’ve never been assume it’s a bunch of dancing rats and cartoons, but there’s a lot more to do there than surround yourself in the kiddie fun. I wouldn’t keep going if that was its only calling as children terrify me. They’re small and brilliant and steal your food. They also wear sneakers that light-up when they walk. Untrustworthy, all of them.

Anyway, as there are many parts to a Disney Orlando vacation, I’m going to only discuss a single facet today – otherwise you’d never leave and that’d be awkward. This is my blog, people. Get the hell of my lawn.

SO! FOOD!

Everyone likes food. Food is delicious and should be enjoyed three times a day. It helps you live and stuff. So I’ll talk here about Disney fooding I’ve enjoyed (or would like to enjoy in some cases) for all of you looking to head to King Rodent’s Mecca of Fun. Other posts will cover attractions and hotels and stuff, but not this one. This one is all about making your inner fat kid squeal with delight.

First and foremost, I highly recommend making reservations online in advance for these places as this is the busiest tourist destination in the world, and generally, if you’re going to Disney, you’re not getting a table for one. Bigger parties are harder to seat. Also, if you let fate decide where you eat, you will be stuck in the restaurants no one else wanted. No, that’s not a TERRIBLE thing because Disney is still awesome and even their bad is better than most other places’ good, but if you’re gonna go, why not go to the awesomest of the awesome? Eh? Eh?

(Also: Disney is LOADED with quick eats places – hot dogs, burgers, etc — if you’re not looking to drop a lot of cash on your dining. I’m not really touching on them because they all serve relatively similar drive-through style food. I’m going for sit-down restaurants only. Kay? Kay.)

Without further ado, LET’S DO THIS!

THE PRE-PAID EATS:

Certain Disney places require you to pay for the dining experience up front – as in when you go to make a reservation, your credit card will be charged on the spot. It ensures you don’t flake out because there are tons of people that’d like to take your place if you don’t show and if you’ve dropped 60 bucks a head already, you’re less likely to be a no-showing tool.

Cinderella’s Royal Table

You eat inside of Cinderella’s Castle and meet all the princesses. Personally, not my bag – I don’t really care much for character meetings because I’m a quasi-functioning adult WHO IS TOTALLY MATURE ALL THE TIME. However, youz guyz with sproglings will rarely find all the Disney princesses together elsewhere, so take advantage if you have little princess wanna-bes. They do breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

The Luau at the Polynesian Resort

I’ve never been before, though the trip I’m going on next week, I am fixing that! I’ve heard from numerous people this is a fantastic time. Fire throwing and chicks in coconut bras and pork and fruity drinks and, and, and NNNNNNF. Something worth noting is the Polynesian is closest to the Magic Kingdom, so if you’re on the Disney bus line and looking to get there, take the bus to MK then find the Polynesian stop.

The Hoop-Dee-Doo Musical Revue

This show takes place at Disney’s Fort Wilderness resort. And really, there’s nothing I can say about it that this YouTube video doesn’t cover. The internet cheats sometimes, I swear.

MAGIC KINGDOM EATS:

Be Our Guest Restaurant

The only regret I have about my latest Disney adventure is I can’t check out their new hotness, the Beauty and the Beast themed ballroom restaurant Be Our Guest. It looks amazing, the ordering process looks like a lot of fun, and even with my absolutely insane early booking, OTHER PEOPLE WERE FASTER. For those of you looking to go to Disney and who are doing your proper early research, best of luck and I hate you a little. (Also, I can totally console myself with Gaston’s Tavern, a quick-eats place that’s also new and serves GIGANTIC PIECES OF PORK.)

Liberty Tree Tavern

I have a soft spot for this place. The food is super home-style Americana but that means wholesome and delicious and WHO DOESN’T LOVE APPLE CRISP? This place is centrally located in Liberty Square and it does have characters that wander the restaurant, all of them dressed like pilgrims and frontier people. Donald Duck in a feather and a loincloth – WOO! It’s one of the easier places to get into with characters, actually, so that’s good for you breeder types. The rest of us can just longingly stare at Mickey while we shovel mashed potatoes into our maws.

HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS EATS:

Hollywood and Vine

Hollywood and Vine is pretty much standard buffet-style food. However, it’s got something going for it other places doesn’t and that’s pre-seating for Hollywood Studios’ water and light show, Fantasmic. There’s really nothing fancy going on here, but the preferred seating really does make it worthwhile to stop by. Also, the only other restaurant to offer this is The Brown Derby and I’ll be honest, when Dave and I ate there we weren’t impressed. The food was not worth the Derby’s price tag. So H&V it is. It’s decent enough and will get you into the Fantasmic sweet seats.

Sci-Fi Dine-in Theater

You eat in cars. Staring at a drive-in screen. Seriously, I don’t need to say anything else.

scifi

50′s Prime Time Cafe

You remember those shows like Leave it to Beaver? Where June’s walking around this ultra-glammed 50′s kitchen serving egg salad? That’s what you get here. Each room is another 50′s kitchen, the vignettes all decorated to give it that old timey ambiance. The food’s good, your standard fried chicken and meatloaf kinda thing, and the serving staff are . . . well. They’re Mom and Dad. From the 50′s. If you don’t eat your vegetables, they will give you shit for it (and quite possibly pick up your fork and attempt to feed you.)

ANIMAL KINGDOM EATS:

The Rainforest Cafe

I’ve eaten elsewhere in Animal Kingdom and I always come back to the Rainforest Cafe not because the food will blow you away, but because you can’t beat the experience of having all the lights go out, fake rain starting, and a stampede of elephants trumpeting your way. You don’t notice how many animatronic animals there are inside the walls and over your head until one of these “storms” happens and the restaurant around you comes alive. It’s colorful, it’s bright, and like many of the Disney restaurants, a show along with your dinner.

DOWNTOWN DISNEY EATS:

Downtown Disney is basically the nighttime hangout spot if you’re sick of the hoopla of the parks or your hotel pool. (This rarely happens with me, but I still enjoy Downtown Disney all the same.) The whole place is restaurants and shops, so there’s a lot of things to do and see. I’m not going to make a list here just because it’s preeeetty much a lot of generic stuff? Planet Hollywood, House of Blues. There’s a Rainforest Cafe located here (second location), a Wolfgang Puck’s. Fulton’s Crabhouse is good if you like seafood, though it’s expensive. Bongos is a bit of a weird call for me because, while the first and second times I ate there it was a delight, the last time it was horrid. Like, the food was simply terrible. I’m not sure I’d return there because of it.

EPCOT EATS:

So, here’s the big one. Epcot. Mostly thanks to the World Showcase having a restaurant in every country and a lot of them being REALLY, REALLY GOOD. I’ve eaten at most of them, and here’s where I’d send you:

The Biegarten Restaurant

So if you like polka, this is the place to be! Well, polka and long tables that seat you with strangers, which I don’t love, but it’s all in the flavor of the country. You can get really good stuff here at a reasonable price, including BEER and SCHNITZEL and SAUSAGE and LEDERHOSEN. But don’t eat the lederhosen. Not so delicious. I recall the strudel being scrumptious, too, but if you’re gonna do dessert in Epcot, you go to . . .

Les Halles Boulangerie & Patisserie

France! You just . . . go here. It’s a french pastry shop and you will walk inside, take a whiff, and want to roll in the deliciousness they have behind their counters. Every trip, I make a stop and get a sampling of sweets and every year I purr like a fat li’l kitty cat afterward. It is SO worth your time.

San Angel Inn Restaurant

Like Mexican? Go eat in Mexico! The coolest part about this place is it’s a faux-Aztec temple, so the look of it is amazing. The food’s solid, though pricey, but the fare is really good if you’re into that whole burrito thing. Which, you know, I am. Lots of traditional dishes (all of the chefs in the showcase hail from the represented countries) so you get a chance to try some stuff you might not get at home.

Also Because Sombreros Happen.

Also Because Sombreros Happen.

Teppan Edo

Japan, oh Japan. There’s a quick eats place in Japan I’d actually avoid – I tried it last time we were there and was largely unimpressed – but the traditional Japanese steakhouse? YES, PLEASE. Dinner and a show! The chefs come to your table and prepare your meal right in front of you. Like most of the Epcot restaurants, this is on the pricier side, but well worth it. Also note that this place is ALWAYS booked fast. If you want this experience, reserve early.

Tutto Italia Ristorante

Italy. No brainer, really. Last time I went to Disney with the crew, we couldn’t get into Teppan Edo so we ended up here sort of by accident. And yeah, I guess you can get Italian food any old place at home, but I can guarantee it doesn’t taste like this. By the time the five of us were done eating, we had to be rolled out the door. Delicious. Expensive! But well worth the cost. (Tip: a lot of the countries in Epcot are on the Disney meal plan? So the cost might not matter so much if you went for the inclusive meal package. You’d get a ton of value out of that package if you could swing by Epcot for dinner every night, I swear.) Also, Italy has wine. So much wine.

Blog A-Go-Go.

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So, like hi. Let me get in here, dust this off, move a few pieces of furniture around.

Housekeeping.

My poor, neglected blog. I didn’t walk away because I didn’t love you, baby. You gotta believe it’s me, not you. No, really, I was finishing A CURSE IN CLAY and it’s a whopper at 117k words. Fantasy, so I get a pass on length, but still – that’s pretty long when my typical books are more in the YA range of 70 to 80k!

It’s been an arduous journey with this book — almost nine months? — and though I’d love to say CLAY is poignant and deep, it’s a cowboy book with dick jokes, a transvestite sidekick, fairies, and witches. I think it’s a GOOD book with dick jokes, a transvestite sidekick, fairies, and witches, but the jury is still out. When I hear back from those who shred my work for fun and profit, I’ll have a better idea if I succeeded or failed horribly.

Lemme do that writer roundup thing I tend to do after every manuscript is finished!

The Good: The cast. The characters carry the book. They’re distinct people with distinct voices and problems and I think I captured them well. I like the way I did the timeline (current chapters alternating with snippets from the main character’s past). I like the third person limited even if it’s a bitch to write at times. I think it’s legitimately funny. Also, I nailed the epilogue.

The “I Worries”: I am HOPING Cora’s as fleshed out as she needs to be. I think so? But really, in comparison to the rest of the cast she’s actually a little more normal so we’ll see if that translates as “boring.” The witches are fun, but I want them to be appropriate bad guys. Also, this is cowboy fantasy but I worry that the romance angle and a few other tidbits might give it genre confusion.

I like to think with every book I write, I hone a skill. In this one, I think I worked on voice and characterization. My next book I’ll be working on mood and nuance, but this one was definitely all about the narrative and the cast playing inside said narrative. And writing third person limited? It’s trickier than it looks. If you get a voice down (and basically in this book I was going for something like Mal from Firefly) and then, you know, screw it up? It sticks out. Like a sore thumb Consistency is a must and it’s difficult when you have as many words as I do.

But, it’s over. Once I hear what the pack of hyenas has to say, I will update as to the success or failure of this latest literary adventure.

For now? ONWARD. And then DISNEY.

*****

Cora had a thing for pillows. She couldn’t have one for each side of her bed, she had to have forty, and every night before he fell asleep, Clay tossed a heaping pile of feather bags onto the floor so he wouldn’t suffocate in their fluffy depths. Frederick was all right with it, always climbing the mountain and sprawling across the top, but it made getting up in the mornings a little more difficult. Clay had to navigate around a mini-disaster just to don his drawers.

“Pillows are stupid,” he announced to no one and everyone, his fingers fiddling with the buttons of his pants.

“No, you’re stupid,” came Cora’s sleepy reply.

Busy Part Deux.

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Or more like Twenty-Deux.

Yes, the blog is quiet again. I’m finishing Clay very soon (no, for real this time – I have two chapters left. You beta readers are forewarned). I had to take a minor break on it because I was editing THE AWESOME, which is such a fun project. I spend my entire time laughing while I’m writing, and because of it, it comes really fast. It’s one of those books that falls from the fingers. I get to flex some comedy muscles in the story, and while the plot isn’t what I’d call super revolutionary, I’m really proud of the narrative voice and the characters. Also, it’s deeper than it looks on the surface. I play with gender roles, burgeoning female sexuality, and societal slut shaming. Of course, I address them in my own weird way, but they’re there.

There’s also boy kissing. Gross, huh?

A lot has happened since my last blog post, and I suppose I could go back and give my take on the Boston bombings and all that transpired in my dear old state, but instead I think I’ll bullet a few things that amuse me and/or have made my brain twitch. The news has been depressing lately. I don’t want to contribute to depressing.

Without further ado:

  • I went to see Great Big Sea last week at the Wilbur Theater in Boston. A great show at a great venue. The seats are actually comfortable at the Wilbur (ARE YOU LISTENING, ORPHEUM?) and every ticket assures you a perfect, close view of the stage. I’d strongly recommend any Boston native or visitor to consider the Wilbur in your next pass through town. Also, for anyone who doesn’t know GBS, might I recommend some of THIS or THIS to get you acclimated? They’re Irish pubby kinda stuff, but they also do some killer pop music and ballads.

  • I’m hoping y’all heard about the deranged sorority girl email. Basicially, some chick named Rebecca Martinson went uber psycho bitch on her sorority mates in a brilliant display of profanity and bullying. And by brilliant, I do mean that this young lady is probably not fit for society any time soon. Her Twitter feed indicated she was a racist, hated fats and gays, and that she liked to be the meat in boy sandwiches (which hey, all the power to you if you like getting spit-roasted, but that might not be something you want on your Twitter feed, chick. YOUR PARENTS MIGHT SEE THAT.) Anyway, in the wake of her tantrum, a couple of things happened. One, she had to tender her resignation to Gamma Whamma Ding Dong. Two, she was immortalized brilliantly on Funny or Die.

  • I’m on Goodreads. Holy crap! Check it out!

  • I read a wonderful book y’all should scoop. CODE NAME VERITY (incidentally put out by the same publisher as UNLEASHED!) It’s a heart-stabbing story about two WW2 era girls: an English female pilot and her best friend, a code-writer who’s captured by the Nazis. This is not the most cheerful book on the planet, but it’s enthralling and beautifully written. Thank you, Lauren, for another solid recommendation!

  • My new favorite show: Archer. It’s on Netflix. Dear God, if you haven’t seen it, watch it. It is hysterical. SPLOOSH.

  • Internet cats. Because LOL.

    • Are You SERIOUS?

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    Yeah, that’s what to say about a city in the midst of a terrorism situation.

    I don’t dip my toes in the politics pool for a number of reasons, but I think this goes beyond party lines.

    Fuck you, Dude.

    Yep. Those Are Tears of Funny.

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    From time to time (often), I read Cracked because, from time to time (often), Cracked is super entertaining. Daniel O’Brien is particularly funny. Today, he put up an article about internet things that are randomly hysterical. The first three were pretty great, but his number one nearly killed me. Basically, NASA keeps logs of everything said in space. On the Apollo 10 mission, this happened:

    lol1

    lol2

    lol3

    Tears. Tears on my face laughing. So stupid and juvenile and yet so goddamned funny.

    If you wanna see the rest of the article, please go check out Dan’s article here. If you want the tumblr dedicated to the space transcripts, check that out here.

    Childless Does Not Mean Lesser.

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    I’ve categorized this under Rants, but the truth is, this is a plea because Dear Sky Poobah, Enough Already

    Yesterday I was reading articles about autism awareness – the strides we have made, the ones we need to make still. In one article, people shared stories of kindnesses in restaurants across America. Basically, they said a lot of family restaurants “get it” and the staff is good enough/patient enough to see to an autistic child’s particular needs. In doing so, they make the dining experience better for the child’s family as well as other diners. The parents of the autistic children cheered this professionalism and caring because they were aware their child could be a handful at times and that it could be tough on other patrons.

    Things got heated because some parents approached the topic with . . . well, they were belligerent. No other way to put it, and I always wonder why this is a necessary tactic when you’re trying to enlighten others. No one learns crap if you’re super aggressive. Anyway, there were more than a few sentiments of, “Damn right my kid can eat at the restaurant and you’ll put up with it. If you don’t like that he screams or throws food, leave.” To which some people (in some cases kindly, in others not) responded with how they’ve paid money to eat there, too, and if the child is acting up that badly, at what point is the child hampering their experience? And at what point is the parent keeping an unhappy child in the restaurant because THEY want a cheeseburger and not seeing to their obviously-distressed child’s needs?

    I’m not going to get into either mindset. That’s not what this post is about today. What I’m going to talk about is a prevalent sentiment in comments said to those who fell in the “if your kid is acting up that much, maybe you should consider taking him home” camp.

    “Do you have kids? If not, you don’t understand.”

    As a childless woman, at this point by choice but with my PCOS who knows if I actually HAVE a choice, this statement is one of the worst things anyone can or will say to me. Why? It implies that I am less evolved than someone who has made a baby. It implies that I lack understanding and compassion in comparison to my peers who have had children. It effectively says until I breed, I am Not As Good. I am Flawed.

    Stop. Stop it. If you’ve said that to someone without kids, you should cringe right now because it is one of the most offensive, patronizing things you can put out there. It suggests you really do believe you are above other people because you have fulfilled your natural function and in doing so, achieved Mommy Superpowers. And pardon my language? FUCK THAT. Women have been struggling for equality for eons. Do you know how frustrating it is for those of us who identify as feminists to have our very own gender saying shit like this to us? Because if you think about it, you are effectively saying that until a woman makes a baby, she is not achieving her greatest potential.

    . . . which sets us back by about, oh, fifty years. I am not down with that.

    The reality of the situation is childless people do understand. No, we haven’t experienced raising children ourselves, but we can grok the challenges associated with parenthood. Hell, sometimes we get it so well, we’ve decided to wait to have gut goblins of our own because we’re not sure we can handle the stress and obligation that comes with procreation. Having children is generally a rewarding experience for y’all, yes, but it’s a life changer, too. And I get it. I really do. Because I’m a smart, smart lady. And because I’m a smart lady, I’ve made responsible decisions about my own life based on my capacity to be what I deem a good and proper parent.

    So, please. A plea from Hillarybot 42-AZ1. If you find yourself in a situation where you’re going to say THE WORDS (or otherwise imply that thrusting a kid thrust from your loins has made you superhuman) think twice before speaking. I know I’m not alone in taking this to heart. I know more than a few barren women who’ve experienced this attitude and in experiencing it, have come to feel alienated from their own gender because of it. Let’s not do that to other people. It’s not cool.

    Okay? Okay.

    Hillary out.

    “It’s Not Personal.”

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    I talked about rejection over here before, saying (quite scandalously I might add) that it’s good for you. I suggested that you could farm your rejections to get to the heart of what may or may not be wrong with a project. It certainly helped me with UNLEASHED – I didn’t do an onspec revision, but took the few notes I’d received from submission editors and went at my rewrite armed with their criticisms. It made the book more marketable in the long run, and for it, ended up on the auction block.

    Today, I want to talk about a different angle of rejection, and that’s the picking-yourself-up-off-the floor angle. Recovering from the necessary slight. True crappy fact: every writer will be rejected. It’s unavoidable. Taste in art varies so much – what some people think is brilliant, others think is trite and boring. You might pen a story with your heart’s blood, but someone somewhere won’t care that you did. Someone won’t like it. Honestly? Many someones won’t like it, and that cold, hard truth is made abundantly clear when you start to query agents. If you are a mystical unicorn and managed to avoid the rejection ax with agents, prepare for it with editors. And if once again you dodged that bullet? The bad reviews are coming, y’all. They’re marching over the horizon like a Peter Jackson ensemble cast.

    Even the best books in the world have their naysayers. Everyone in publishing will be rejected.

    It’s a pretty awful feeling. You don’t want to care so much, but you do – this book or project took you a long time to complete and here comes this stranger saying it’s just not good enough for X reason. That’s tough. Crushing, really – books aren’t something that happen over the course of two days. It’s months or years of labor dismissed because someone couldn’t get behind your vision. You put your soul into that sucker, damn it, why can’t they see that?

    The reality is people in the industry do understand. People who write are dreamers and those stories are manifestations of our dreams. We want to resonate with an audience and this is how we go about it. Unfortunately, just because it’s a little dream doesn’t mean it’s the right dream for a specific agent or editor. They get a pile of dreams thrust at them over the course of the year and they have to sort which ones to adopt into their stable according to their tastes and pub house needs. Most industry folks aren’t cruel about their rejections, but they also can’t take the time to cradle everyone to their bosoms and tell them their story is special – it’s just not feasible nor is it really fair to expect that of them. They have a job to do. This is an uglier facet of that job.

    The readers and reviewers are a slightly different bunch, but suffice it to say ten minutes on Goodreads will show you how little your dream matters to some of them. There are people who take insidious glee in tearing down a book. Snark is easier than kindness and gets more attention. We, as writers, are expected to rise above it and ignore it. Part of the downside of our job is that we’ve put ourselves out there, all exposed and flabby and knobby as we are, and the faceless throng will delight in poking at our flaws. It’s, uhh. Well, it’s hurtful a lot of the times.

    And hurtful sucks.

    How do you get over it? Well, not really glorious, but you bitch about it to people who can understand. Not abusively so, but feel free to talk about it with people in the industry who’ve experienced the same things. Which is, you know, everyone. Talk about your rejections. They’re not shameful secrets because we all deal with it. Maybe what you have to say will help a peer come to grips with the associative emptiness that comes with constant rejection. Maybe what they have to say will help you. Talk out your feelings because it’s not as simple as saying “it’s not personal.” It certainly FEELS personal and it’s okay that it does. Bee stings hurt. So does being told you’re not good enough. Don’t think you have to be this stoic robot standing alone in the corner.

    The thing is talking about it is only the first step. You have to move on after that, which is infinitely harder than complaining. If you don’t move on, you’re obsessive and whiny and then you are THAT PERSON and no one will want to talk to you ever. You’ll be like Creepy Todd the Sock Sniffer – avoided and loathed, shunned by society. Stop yourself from getting to that point by doing two very important things:

  • Look ahead. One rejection will not crush a project. Shit, twenty won’t. Realize that it’s one opinion in a vast ocean of opinions. Don’t put too much onus on one voice when there are so many other voices to be heard.
  • Write another story. For God’s sake, write something new.

    • If you’re busy crafting a story for that saucy vixen Gloria the Wonder Gnome, you can’t be all hung up on someone saying bad stuff about your previous work. Take your angst about rejection and pour it into another literary baby. Let the feelings flow like water on the page. You know that cliche’ bit about artists producing better art when they’re miserable? WELP. YOU CAN BE ONE OF THOSE BROODING MASTERPIECE CREATORS. It’s like recycling, really – take the bad feelings about a pass on a project and use them to fuel something new. Give Gloria the Wonder Gnome a machete and have her attack a badger army. YOU WILL SHOW THE WORLD YOUR GREATNESS. WITH LASERS AND FLYING SHARKS!

    I think you catch my drift.

    So, yes, rejection is a necessary part of the writer’s journey. It’s a miserable one that’s capable of crushing our souls, but it also plays a vital role in making us better, stronger writers. Remember, it’s okay to let yourself feel badly about it. It’s okay to talk about it with others who will understand. Cut yourself a break. And when you’re done cutting yourself a break, get up, shake off, and go make something bigger and brighter. It’s the only way to go.

    Home Employment. WOO TO THE HA.

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    Whenever I tell people what I do for a living, folks get this slightly glassy-eyed look and their mouths fall open – not because they are in awe that someone can sit in a chair for 110,000 words and construct a world or make and ruin lives, but because I get to work from home. This is the Holy Grail of employment options apparently, and while I respect that it’s a perk, it is not the be-all end-all everyone seems to think it is. In fact, there are days I wish I had an office somewhere so I could work without the trappings that come with operating out of home base.

    Why?

    AHEM.

    1) Everyone — and I do mean everyone — assumes you make your own hours and because you make your own hours, you can rearrange everything however you want and do as many things as you want and the work still mystically gets completed behind the scenes. This means when folks need a ride somewhere or an errand or a favor, you are their personal go-to. Now, they’re grateful for your assistance and that’s keen, but when too many people assume a freedom that isn’t there, that means you get inundated with requests for your time. Each of those requests is less butt-in-chair time, and any writer will tell you the key to success and productivity is butt-in-chair time. So you get around to saying no, which in itself shouldn’t be a problem, but-

    2) When you say you can’t help someone because you have to work, there’s acceptance but also that disappointment that you didn’t rearrange your Home Worky Cosmos for them. And listen – it’s not that you don’t love your friends/family, it’s just that they’re the fifth person to want a twelfth thing from you between Monday and Friday and you can only stretch yourself so thin. Surely they must understand.

    3) And most of the time they do. But then there’s those times they don’t. Those times are stupid.

    4) There’s also the distraction problem. Our homes are our sanctuaries, our happy fun places to store everything we’ve worked hard for. Video games. Televisions. Computers. Distractions lie around every corner. No, sometimes literally, because-

    5) Pet and kids? Don’t get that you’re not home to see to their needs. So they’ll eat electrical cords or lick light sockets or fall on their heads and expect saving. And you do save them because HOLY SHIT VET BILLS ARE EXPENSIVE but that’s more time to not get to that last chapter and you promised your agent a book and you haven’t taken a shower yet and you’re wearing the same ugly old sweatpants from yesterday.

    6) Because you don’t actually have to get dressed when you work from home. You do simply so you don’t traumatize the mailman, but putting off things like jeans and bras? Totes fine, except when the UPS man shows up and you look like Hobo Joe and he’s wondering why that bird is nesting in your hair, which you didn’t notice until he stared at it and you realized you have Radagast face (see The Hobbit, you’ll get it) and . . . well, screw it.

    7) After the UPS man leaves, you laugh in a creepy way. When you work out of your house, you don’t socialize much and you get weird. Without society’s judgmental embrace, you twitch and do things like armpit sniff tests to determine if you NEED that shower or if it can wait a few more hours while you finish editing. There’s also that thing about you talking to the inanimate objects like you’re Belle in the Beast’s castle, but thanks to the scrubby clothes and the odor and lack of shaving, you are definitely MORE Beast than Belle.

    So. Yes. Working from home. A perk when I need to go to the doctor or the bank. Sort of a bane when it comes to productivity, personal hygiene, fashion, and . . . everything else. It’s cool, dudes. I get it. Envy away that I am the mistress of my own castle, but when you get to the window-licking TRAPPED IN MY OWN HOUSE WITH NO CLEAN LAUNDRY AND I’M WEARING A GLAD BAG AS A DRESS portion of the day, it ain’t so pretty anymore.

    Not pretty t’all.

    IT'S UNDER CONTROL

    IT’S UNDER CONTROL

    Writing Reality: Roadblocks.

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    Writing sucks. It doesn’t suck all the time, of course, or I wouldn’t want to do it as my livelihood, but the fact is, sometimes writing is not clouds raining Skittles over Princess Buttface’s Beauteous Castle. Sometimes, it sucks more than your Hoover on its best day, and enough of those sucky days back-to-back, your project is in serious danger of going the way of the dodo. Your brain starts to associate it with toxicity, and as no one actually glugs Drain-O for fun, you tell yourself to avoid it because it’s bad for you. Writing this makes you unhappy and no one should be unhappy all the time. I’ll just walk away for a few days . . .

    Aaaand you never return. Because you just don’t. It’s like promising yourself you’ll go back to school one day – it sometimes happens, but the odds are stacked against you.

    Having “been there, done that, bought the tee shirt” with this particular phenomenon — and having lost projects to the associative mindset — I’m going to talk about how to get over it, past it, through it. The hardest part of a project isn’t having the initial idea or scribbling five or six chapters, it’s finishing it, and these roadblocks are anti-completion. As they are anti-completion, they must be EXTERMINATED.

    Roadblock One: PLOT HOLE.

    You’re going along your merry way in the story, giving your talking beaver magical butterfly wings and delighting in the knowledge that Slappy the tree frog is actually a prince in disguise when you realize OH NO! SLAPPY’S ACTUALLY A CIA OPERATIVE AND IF HE BECOMES A PRINCE HE CAN’T WRESTLE PRINCESS PEACH FROM GODZILLA! Plot hole. One you believe must be rectified before you continue your story. In the above example, the obvious answer is to introduce Hans the Professional Yodeler to save the day, but sometimes, in the midst of the PLOT HOLE disaster, we can’t see things so clearly.

    Thing is, you actually don’t have to solve most plot holes right away. Unless this is an earthshaking point in the story — as in it will actually direct any and all interactions throughout the novel — you can put it aside and keep going. Books have a revision and rewrite period, and for most writers, it’s time consuming. You’re hunkered in for a few months after THE END. As you’re already committing to that (or should be) by writing the novel in the first place, allow yourself to cast burdens to the wind during drafting. If it means you’ll be able to get back to business, it’s okay to pull a Scarlet O’Hara and “think about it tomorrow.”

    Roadblock Two: PERFECTION!

    You think picking at the already completed words is helping the project in the long run, but no matter how many times you edit it, it’s never going to be perfect. Never. Why? Perfect in fiction is subjective. Seriously, what you see as perfect, some other assclown will rip apart in a review a year and a half later. Gleefully, even, because we love to squash our heroes. Also? What you deem perfect on a Tuesday? May very well suck on Thursday when you reread it because headspace plays a huge role in how we see ourselves, and by extension, our work.

    You cannot progress if you obsess over the first parts you already wrote. And if you won’t stop tinkering with the chapters you already have, you are exhibiting obsessive behavior. Acknowledge this, and when you catch yourself doing it, stop. It’s that simple. Stop. Go write new stuff and leave the old stuff alone. If you really want to know if those first five or six chapters are any good, hand them over to someone else who will give you an honest opinion, but stop striving for perfection because it does not exist.

    Roadblock Three: OTHER PEOPLE.

    There are two ways to absolutely, one hundred percent ensure that you won’t finish a book. The first is by watching too much Real Housewives of Hooterville. The second is by comparing yourself to other people. It’s said so many times it’s cliche’ these days, but I swear by Sky Poobah, no two publication journeys are the same. You’ll see stories about writers who go out on submission for two weeks and get picked up by a house right away, but even then, the circumstances behind the scenes are different. Every case is as individual as the person who wrote the book.

    So! Stop comparing yourself and your work to everyone else in the world, because when you actually go out there? You’re going to be your own special snowflake. You have your own voice. You have your own writing strengths. Where you thrive, other writers are weak. Where you are weak, other writers will thrive. It’s the nature of the beast, and you cannot determine your success or failure based on your peers because down that path lays madness. Worry about yourself. As a person who wrote a book that went on sub for fifteen months, rewrote it, and then got picked up at auction two weeks later? My path to publication was insane. Yours might be, too.

    Roadblock Four: IDEA FAIRY IS A HO.

    There she is, all shiny and sparkly. She sees your brain fixed on Project A and she comes by flaunting dat ass with Project B and whispering her sultry lies. Lies like, “You should ignore Project A and play with Project B just a little bit. Just a few chapters. C’mon, what could a poke and a tickle hurt?” IDEA FAIRY IS A PUSHER AND A LIAR AND A SLUT. NO. You might think you’re just going to go sample Project B, but when you get into it, you convince yourself it’s better than Project A. Next thing you know, you’re shacked up with Project B while Project A is at home with the fourteen chapters you abandoned wondering if she’ll get alimony.

    Greener pasture syndrome is a real thing. The writer that has the resolve to dally and then get back to the matter at hand is a rare creature. Work under the premise that you are not such a creature. A tendency to want to wander off and do new things because a story is getting old or complicated is natural, but it’s also deadly. Recognize what you’re doing – that you’re pretending your new hotness is better than your old project, because NEWSFLASH! I bet you had another idea you cheated on when you started Project A. This is a perpetuating cycle of crap and a surefire way to never finish anything ever.

    Roadblock Five: WRITING STUFF I DON’T LIKE.

    This is the one I’m battling myself right now, actually. We all have things we like writing better than other things, whether that’s funny anecdotal stuff or dialogue or love scenes or monkeys flinging poo or whatever. But there are also things we don’t like writing. In my case, that’s combat. I hate/loathe/despise choreographing fight scenes because it’s complicated and very . . . I don’t know. Tedious. It annoys me. A lot. I’d rather write sex than a fight scene and that’s saying something. Anyway, point is, I have no less than five combat scenes in five chapters in the current WiP. Why? Because I hate myself, but also because I’m at the climax of the book and that means everyone’s being all ornery and shit. I’ve been slower writing these chapters because it’s flat-out less enjoyable for me, but I am trudging through. How? I’m writing stuff in between. I break up the monotony of POINTY THING GOES INTO FLESHY PART by interspersing these chapters with scenes I enjoy.

    If you know your writerly Achilles heel up front, which chapters you dread doing versus not, try to space them out a little? I know writing out of order for some people triggers their OCD, but if writing a bunch of stuff you like, pausing to write 4,000 words you don’t, and then getting back to the fun stuff means you can finish the project? Kick the OCD in the teeth. Weep while you do it if you have to, but don’t effectively cockblock your own progression by setting yourself up to fail. Recognize your own preferences and then intersperse the writerly down swings between happy fun times so they feel more rewarding when you get to them.