Advice from my daughter

Whenever I tell people I’m writing a novel, they inevitably want to know when I will finish it; I hope this is because they’d like to read it, but I can’t speak for them, of course. Frankly, I’d like to know when I will finish it, too. I have 100 pages that are almost good enough, in my opinion, to send out for critiques. The first three chapters, in other words, although it may turn out to be four, depending on the story flow.

I am under the thumb of my own perfectionism. I can’t help but try to make it as readable and believable as I possibly can. I run across poor word choices, too many adverbs, repeated words, repeated phrases, continuity errors, et cetera et cetera ad fucking nauseam. I work almost every night after my family goes to bed, and I still don’t have the first three chapters.

However. Once I’ve sent those chapters out, I’ll take all the critiques I receive and put them in a separate file that I won’t even look at until much, much later. That will be a big help, I’m sure.

I’ve told one of my friends I’ll have the manuscript finished by the end of the year. The calendar, evil bastard that it is, tells me that this is eight weeks away. Yeah... no, don’t see it happening.

Given the time it takes for agents to read and reject or otherwise respond to queries, not to mention the lengthy process of publication if a house decides to buy the book, I suspect I’ll be working my day job for at least another two years. Which means that I have to deal with the causes of my procrastination there.

What it comes down to is that I’m not comfortable offering criticism to some of the managers here. Unfortunately one of those managers is my boss, whom, owing to circumstances beyond my control, I have to audit at least twice a year. Reporting nonconformances to her is a huge pain in the ass, and it makes me want to dig a very deep hole and hide away in it until the nonconformances go away.

This approach has not worked.

So I’ve been considering the feasibility of bringing up my discomfort with her and trying to improve our relationship. When I suggested this at the dinner table last night, I knew how absurd the idea was as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I'm going to change my boss or her attitude; that’s a fact. What I can change is my own approach to those uncomfortable situations.

Before I even began to articulate this line of reasoning out loud, my daughter piped up.

“Mom, you just have to remember three things. No, four. First, be polite. Second, talk slowly so they can understand you. Third, talk about important things, because that’s what people want to talk about when they’re at work. Fourth, be serious about it, because that’s how people act when they’re at work.”

Did I mention that she’s seven?

She had pegged my three main failings and told me how to correct them. When I’m talking to management about what they’ve fucked up, I tend to speak quickly to get it over with. I sometimes lump trivial stuff in with the important things. And I very often try to lighten the mood and come off as not-so-serious to avoid putting the other person on the defensive.

This takes a lot of time and energy. It’s a waste.

So I’m going to follow her advice. I’m going to be polite (I always am anyway, at least in these situations), I will speak slowly, I will focus on important things, and I will take them seriously. Because it’s my job, and as long as I’m here, I might as well do it right.

And if they don’t like it, they can kiss my ass.

free-floating anxiety

There's a whole lot of that swirling around me at the moment - or rather, in me. It's a very odd physical sensation and not at all pleasant - it's like the feeling you get right before you go down the other side of the rollercoaster, except not as dramatic and much more mysterious and disturbing.

I know part of what this is about. Ditching Blackwell, or relegating him to the back burner, is a huge step towards casting away the last bits of what this novel was years and years ago when I first started writing it. A little scary. Kinda feels like jumping off a cliff, which, of course, would explain the feeling.

But then some of it has to do with my progress. It's not like there hasn't been any - I'm working steadily and regularly, but when I get my daily updates from the critical writing board, I feel terribly anxious that I haven't offered any crits (not that there's a minimum or anything) and that I haven't posted anything else since the third scene.

And the only thing that helps is to work. So off I go to do the shit I have to do to make this weekend work. Finish shopping for the party, bake and frost the cake, clean the house so our visitors from out of town can at least have a clean toilet to vomit in should the need arise, and still slap some lunch together for Aeryn.

Then I can work. And then, hopefully, this awful sense that I'm plodding slowly down the road while everyone else is catching up with the ice cream truck, so scared that there won't be any left for me by the time I get there. It's almost like preemptive grief. Or disappointment. Or something.

No rest for the wicked, right?

Right.

Woman, Uninterrupted

I don't mean to brag, but, my life is awesome. Today anyway. The day that I have dreamed of for seven years has finally come; both of my kids have gone off to school, and I am free to do whatever I want. I don't think I've ever so looked forward to a chilly, rainy, September day.

For so many years of my life I have been programed to start something new in the fall. Elementary school, high school, college. Today I am looking forward to doing whatever I want, UNINTERRUPTED. Sure, I need to start looking for a job. But today I am free.

Today I can listen to morning news on NPR. I can listen to whatever kind of music I want to, really listen, loudly if I want. I can burn incense. I am free to clean, uninterrupted, and not have things get messed up right away. I can take the puppy out for a walk or go for a run and I don't have to schedule it with anyone.

I remember now, I used to be such an independent woman, before I had children. I have come to accept the dependence that our family unit has on each other. It's ok. But this whole time as a full-time stay-at-home mom (FTSAHM) I've been holding back and I can't wait to let my wild horses run free again, if only between the hours of 8:30 am to 3:00 pm, Monday thru Friday.

I sound like a housewife, I think I'm a housewife

I never intended to be a housewife. Shit, I remember a time when I didn't think I'd ever get married or have children. Then I decided that someday I might have kids, but forget about a husband. Then one day I decided to get married, but not have kids. Then, unable to ignore the loud clanging of my freakin' biological clock, I decided to have a child. And after you have one, you may as well have two...

However, my timing was a little bit off. I should have both established my career and had children probably ten years earlier than I did. And so I find myself, over 40 years old, sending my youngest off to school. Hi, nice to meet you. I'm a housewife.

While it is tremendously exciting to think of having so much time off to myself (six whole hours a day, five days a week?!), I know that I need to use that time to find a way to make some money. 

WTF do I do with myself now? Can I find a job between the hours of 8:30 and 2:30, where they don't mind if I take off all school holidays and anytime my kids are sick? Stay tuned and find out...

Domestic Goddess Seeks Part-time employment

The school year hasn't even started yet and already I'm considering cleaning and reorganizing my spice cabinet in order to have some project to do. While mixing ingredients for morning muffins, I searched through the old baby food jars of spices, on the shelf cluttered with bags of nuts and bottles of sauces, a jar of peanut butter and some dried seaweed I never use. I have plenty of thyme. No ginger though. And lots of nutmeg, but that isn't as ironic.

I am excited about the possibilities of the year to come, with both kids in school all day. Now I have time. I can get things done around the house, exercise on my own schedule, work on projects, write, even get a job if I can make it fit with the kids' schedule. They are still my top priority. If I got a job, we could have more financial security, maybe be able to do more than just pay the bills.

But for the past five years I have been out of the work force, a full-time stay-at-home mom. There is a big blank space at the top of my resume. I find myself at parties saying: "I've just been home with the kids," when they ask if I work. I know that it is much more than that. It is a very important and challenging job. I have had to use many of the skills I've learned over the years from previous employment and education.

So I've decided to try to write a comprehensive job description for the position I have held for the past five years, highlighting the skills required. The all-encompassing title for this position is: "Domestic Goddess." Including, but not limited to, performing the duties of mother, wife, lover, friend, Household Manager, Nurse, Wilderness First Responder, Care-giver, Life-skills Teacher, Travel Agent, Secretary, Activity Coordinator, Adventure Leader, Baker, Cook, Gardener, Lawn Maintenace, Maid, Chauffeur, Geisha, Laundress, Waitress, Servant, Animal Caretaker, Conflict Resolution Manager, Toy Repair Specialist, Referee, Hostess. etc. etc.

Can you think of more? I bet you can.