I Do Not Believe You, George R.R. Martin

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I started watching that Game of Thrones,
I realize I’m a little behind.
Y’all are about 5,000 deaths ahead
But you keep going, I don’t mind.

See, I read the books already
So I’m not exactly a newbie.
I’m not shocked by a little blood
Or the sight of the ubiquitous booby.

I’m not scared of your spoilers,
I knew more than you did to start,
But my advantage seems to have slipped away
Because The Winds of Winter are mere farts.

Yes. I’m doubting you, Mr. Martin.
Another book? He’s just pretending.
I’ve given in, I’ll watch the show,
Just so I can see the ending.

Hope Is Not Eternal

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I opened up my jar of Hope,
And found it was a jar of Nope.
The stuff inside was cracked and dried.
Seems to me…my Hope has died.

 
On this journey through Bad Poetry August, I’d be happy to take requests, I think? Leave them in the comments. Thanks for stopping in.

Shiny

 

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When I first wrote that thing,
The shiny hurt my eyes.
It was fresh and grand and new
And SO, SO great, you guys!

I wanted to put it out there
And blind the whole damn world,
But restraint finally prevailed
And I left that banner furled.

As it sat, it tarnished,
At first just spots of rust.
Then it sprouted grayish spots
And its luster turned to dust.

I couldn’t see myself reflected
In that thing’s surface anymore.
Looking at my former pride, I
Wondered what I wrote it for.

Maybe I could save this thing!
I grabbed a cloth and paste.
I scrubbed until my fingers hurt
Repenting what I wrote in haste.

After too much time, it gleamed again
Reclaimed its place in the arena.
It wasn’t shiny, but it had depth.
That’s not rust now, that’s patina.

Note: I decided that in August, I’m going to post a poem every day, or as close to it as I can get. Since I haven’t written any of them yet but the above, which I wrote today while my son was kicking me (he’s 7 and does Taekwondo, but this was just him snuggling when he played video games), it should be interesting. Get ready for my not-so-august August. The Tiny Giant is coming along nicely, the big wrassling match ended with me on top, and my shoulders are no longer scrunched up around my ears. Time to play with the words some, since I no longer have to teach them a lesson.

Wrapping Up a Novel Is Like Urgent Macrame

I’m in the home stretch of rewriting The Tiny Giant. I am deleting whole paragraphs in favor of the better writing I’m capable of after 150,000 words of practice. I am crying, sometimes, when the clever bits turn out to be irrelevant, or a sweet moment slows down the action, and they have to go.  I am fist-pumping at the ceiling when the new section is funnier, more adventurous, or just actually makes sense.

In these last few chapters, the whole of the story has to come together in a way that is both interesting (complex) and organic (not distractingly complex).  It makes me tense.  I’m preoccupied with it.  A bit obsessed.  This is where I run into issues.

See…I’m at home all day with the Two Things.  My kids are 4 (almost 5) and 7 (almost 82, he’s wonderfully odd).  I get up and write for a couple of hours if I can manage it before they get up.  Once they stir, there is no more writing.  This doesn’t happen at a nice stopping point.  Right now, at the climax, I’m juggling all the cords of this macramé masterpiece, trying to get the knots connected so the plot doesn’t just crash to the floor.  When I “stop” for the day, I still have these mental threads precariously wound through my imaginary intellectual fingers.  All day.  All I can think about is NOT LOSING MY PLACE.

I take notes, and I leave markers for myself.  I know what’s going to happen (thanks, outline!), and I know what I need to do to get there.  It doesn’t stop me from worrying that somewhere along the way, I’m going to leave a cord out, or tie the wrong knot, and this big piece of mental macramé is going to end up looking like the actual macramé I made in the 7th grade.  I urgently need it not to be as amateurish as my 7th grade plant hanger.  I urgently need to be done.

I will not rush through this last bit just to be done.  There are still 7 chapters left, and they deserve the same attention as all the others, if not more.  I’ll spend the next two weeks tying knots and balancing strings and probably snapping at my family (sorry, family) to see it through to what I hope it can be.  If I seem a little preoccupied, well, it’s just that I’m trying to remember if the blue cord is an over or under cord…

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Now….what was I thinking with this one?

Rewritin’

Well, I spent a couple years,
Pilin’ up a mess of words,
But when I read ’em back,
I didn’t like what I heard.

Those words were too simple,
Those too flowery.
These sound like I made ’em up,
And those don’t sound like me.

I grabbed my inky editor
And marked them pages up.
I bled all over those suckers,
Man, I really changed some stuff.

I beavered away at the pages,
Started feelin’ like a pro,
Until I read the new version
And saw how far I had to go.

Well, I sucked it up, my friend.
I wrote the whole thing over.
I worried about the “central conflict”
And what “motivation” drove her.

At the end, I could see
My mess of words was clearer.
So, promise me, you’ll buy my book
When I finish it…late next year.

A Note From Me:  I know some of you have been through the process of writing and rewriting novels, and let me tell you, it’s quite a process.  The good news?  Two-ish years after I started using my 3 hours a week on The Tiny Giant, I finally know what the finished product looks and feels like.  This 4th Draft is the last draft before I edit and send the manuscript out.  It has come a LONG way in that time, and I have a mess of work left, but I can see and feel the main arc of the story, and I know the characters as well as I know anyone.  I’m excited to get there, and honestly a little tired of looking at it.  I’ll be happy to see it out the door, then turn to some stories aimed at adults while I wait for responses.

What do I expect?  Nothing.  Hope for everything.  The young adult fantasy market is more open than ever before, I think, and more crammed with competition as a result.  But…back to the work, which I need to get done before I do any dreaming…

(Bonus points to you if you heard Baxter Black in your mind as you read the poem.)

Running the 503: A Journey in Pictures

I documented a little bit of what it’s like to kick it in my hood today.  Come along with me.

Hey, look! The rain is slacking off! Where are my shoes?

Hey, look! The rain is slacking off! Where are my shoes?

Road Conditions: Dry. Yup, if all that water's in the ditch, there isn't any left to sog up the road.

Road Conditions: Dry. Yup, if all that water’s in the ditch, there isn’t any left to sog up the road.

There goes *that* route. It was a 10 foot wide bike path before the blackberries started in last week.

There goes *that* route. It was a 10 foot wide bike path before the blackberries started in last week.

I had to ford this mighty stream just like my homesteading ancestors.

I had to ford this mighty stream just like my homesteading ancestors.

In the distance, you can see the house where the aviation magnate slowly descended into madness and bankruptcy. It's available!

In the distance, you can see the house where the aviation magnate slowly descended into madness and bankruptcy. It’s available!

The water skiers must be making a late start today.

The water skiers must be making a late start today.

Yay! Oregon hopscotch!

Yay! Oregon hopscotch!

I nearly lost the oxen in this one, but some quick thinking by Pa kept the wagon dry.

I nearly lost the oxen in this one, but some quick thinking by Pa kept the wagon dry.

This will be dry enough to mow by August 2016.

This should be dry enough to mow by August 2016.

And....I'm done for today. All the way done. I'm going to get on my makeshift scooter and insist that the kids push me around for the rest of the day.

And….I’m done for today. All the way done. I’m going to get on my makeshift scooter and insist that the kids push me around for the rest of the day.

My Garmin and Me, We Like to Lean on a Tree

Garmin: Uhhhh….oh.  *yawn*  Hey.  Is it Spring?

Me:  No, I’m just going for a run.

Garmin:  Yeah, well, it’s been a while.

Me:  I know.  I was sick.

Garmin:  Oh.  Okaaaaay.  You were sick since the end of November.

Me:  Yes, just find your satellites, please.

Garmin: Locating, locating, locating.  You want me to find an extra one?  Just in case.

Me:  No.  C’mon, I haven’t got all day.

Garmin:  00:00

Me:  *timer start*

. . . . . .

Garmin:  Are we still warming up?

Me:  No, I’m running.  This is running today.

Garmin:  Well, not everyone comes back from Ebola, I guess.

Me:  What?  I didn’t have Ebola.  What made you think I had Ebola?

Garmin:  Anthrax?  Bird flu?  Oh my god, did you have bubonic plague????

Me:  WHAT?  No!  I had viruses.  Several viruses.

Garmin:  Oh.  I mean, I was just looking at the pace, and I assumed… well.  How many viruses?

Me:  A lot of viruses.

. . . . .

Garmin:  Why’d you stop?

Me:  Somebody ran over a flute.  It’s all smashed by the side of the road.

Garmin, in a high-pitched and terrible English accent:  And the piper shall pipe no moooore, for his weightily wielded instrument of pleasure has been weightily welded into the pavement.

Me:  Stop, that’s terrible.  Who told you to be English?

Garmin: *beeps mirthfully*

Garmin, back to normal:  Are you sure you weren’t just winded?  Here on the wood-winding road?

Me: Really.  Stop.

. . . . .

Garmin:  OH, I LOVE this song.  Let’s run faster!

Me: *skip song*

. . . . .

Me: *timer stop*

Me: *blowing like a calving heifer*

Garmin:  Ok, let’s see.  That’s 2.4 miles…let me check the pace…in…um….in….YAY WE WENT RUNNING!

Me:  Wisely said.

Garmin:  So that half-marathon was really a one-and-done, then?

Me: Yup.

Garmin:  See you Monday?

Me:  See you Monday.

. . . . .

There's a psychotic filbert grower carrying a bag of nuts behind you.  Now RUN!

There’s a psychotic filbert grower carrying a bag of nuts behind you. Now RUN!

Everyone Will Have Reservations at Your Holiday Party

Sometimes I like to be topical and trendy.  Right now, it seems like everyone is talking about holiday this, party that, oh, I’m gonna make these cheese balls with quinoa all over them and not eat them because I’m lactose intolerant, but you go ahead.  Since I don’t really have “parties,” because that would involve a lot of “people,” I thought it might be fun to help you plan your party.  

 I spent some time thinking about a theme, because no one wants to have the same party as everyone else, right?  I spent some time focusing on the word “hospitality.”  I laid down in the middle of my floor and chanted that word for an hour using the voice of my ancestors.  The long line of introverts behind me declined to help.  “Hospitality,” I whispered.  Inspiration struck.  Hotels!  A hotel themed party would be the very essence of hospitality.  Looking around my suburban home, however, I couldn’t make it work.  I just didn’t have enough rooms to give everyone their own room and still call it a party.  Plus, some people might not be entirely charmed by spending their evening in the bathroom or the basement crawlspace.  If you have a 40 room mansion, this might not be a problem you have, but you wouldn’t be talking to me either, so whatever.

 How could I get more people in a small space?  I still wanted the hospitality feeling, but I needed efficiency.  I scrunched my knees up, covering my ears so I could think, and lightning struck!  I could take my inspiration from the airlines!  Read on to see how you could throw your own party just like a major airline. 

Invitations

First, you have to invite all your friends to the party, of course.  You’ll want to make sure you set your groundwork here.  Make a list of all your friends.  Then, divide up the list between your Best Friends and your Other Friends.  For maximum efficiency, I suggest something like the example below. 

Be sure to check the appropriate box before sending to prevent confusion.

Be sure to check the appropriate box before sending to prevent confusion.

Handling RSVPs

When your friends RSVP, you’ll want to make sure you exchange some important information.  Absolutely confirm if they are bringing a date or any other baggage.  This is the perfect time to let them know they need to arrive at least two hours early. 

Greeting Your Guests

Your guests should start arriving long before the actual party is to start.  Have them form an orderly line outside the front door.  You will want to put the Best Friends closest to the house to ensure they get inside before anyone else.  This is a good time to make sure no one has brought an unexpected guest.  If anyone in line is not covered by a confirmed RSVP, inform them they are on Party Standby.  If there is any room after all confirmed guests have entered the party, these unexpected guests can enter on a first-come/first-served basis. 

Walk down the line and observe what people are carrying.  Anyone with a hostess gift should be pulled out of line and searched for other contraband.  Since most people don’t have metal detectors at home, you’ll have to improvise here.  If you’re curious about what your coworker has in that stupid designer purse, or you want to see if Bill from high school is still carrying joints in his pocket, make a high-pitched whining noise as you “wand” them and insist they dump out their purse or pockets.

 

Weeeoooooweeeeooooweeeoooo. Sorry, I'm going to have to search that.

Weeeoooooweeeeooooweeeoooo. Sorry, I’m going to have to search that.

No matter how clear you are on the invitation, there are always latecomers.  At the time the party is scheduled to start, lock the door and don’t let anyone else in.  That’s the price of being a Rude Roscoe, my friend, see you next year.

 Party Down

The key to a party that everyone enjoys?  The atmosphere and the refreshments!  First, you’ll want to make sure everyone’s comfortable.  Because we’re trying to get as many guests in as efficiently as possible, I’ve done a model layout for you.   

You may want to have a special area with larger squares for your Best Friends.

You may want to have a special area with larger squares for your Best Friends.

 The refreshments are another area requiring careful planning.  It’s important to have enough for everyone, but not necessarily the same things for everyone.  I suggest creating multiple areas for drinks and food.  Find your Best Friends and quietly suggest that they might want to check out the refreshments on the linen tablecloth, behind the curtain. 

Please enjoy all this, my Best Friend, and let me know when you need a refill

Please enjoy all this, my Best Friend, and let me know when you need a refill.

Holler “Grub’s on!” loudly to the Other Friends and gesture to the folding card table where you’ve set up the cheap stuff.

One per guest, please, if I have extras you may ask for another

One per guest, please, if I have extras you may ask for another.

Entertainment

Let’s face it, people are not coming to your party for the entertainment.  Go to a Redbox, close your eyes, and point to the display of movies at random.  Rent this movie.  Play it with the sound completely off in your living room.  If someone cares about what Vin Diesel is saying, they can stand very close to the screen and read his lips.

 Winding Down

If you’re following along, you should be having a really adequate party at this point.  People will be awkwardly mingling with the person in the assigned seat next to them.  Your Best Friends will be drunk and joining the Mistletoe Club elsewhere in the house.  It’s important to end the party with the same tasteful efficiency as you began it.  Put on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and carry a small wastebasket liner to each party guest.  Grab their cups out of their hands and throw them away regardless of contents.  Once you’ve done this, announce to everyone that the party is over, thank them for coming, and wish them an enjoyable holiday season at their own homes. 

 Important Last Note

Once you’ve signaled that party is over, make it clear that everyone is to leave as quickly as possible by standing at the open front door with a basket of party favors.  Hand one to each guest as they leave, counting as they depart.  It wouldn’t do to have a party guest stranded in your house overnight!

 This may sound like a lot of work for a couple of hours of party time.  While I’m sure you’re sold on the money-saving refreshment tiers, you might wonder if it’s worth going the extra mile for your guests.  Yes.  You have to stop focusing on the journey, and look toward the destination.  You’ll avoid the “same old holiday party” trap.  People will be talking about your party for years to come.  Bonne fête! 

Thanks for choosing our party. Please come again.

Thank you for choosing our party. Please come again.

No, I Don’t Eat Sushi

A lot of people I know eat sushi, and I can’t really capture the essence of why. They’re not all doing it to look cool, because I know some of them care about cool as much as I care about One Direction. They are not restricted to sushi because of some allergy to everything else. Many of them claim to “enjoy” it. I think they maybe just haven’t really gone to the trouble of understanding what is motivating their food. No, I didn’t leave off “choices.” What does your food want? Specifically, how does the food feel about YOU?

Deep down, on a literally visceral level, I believe all meat and seafood is trying to kill me. This is not some kind of granola theory about “toxins” or some medically based cholesterol or whatnot issue. I think meat is just waiting for its chance to get you. If you don’t handle it like a bomb counting down to zero on your countertop, BOOM! Cross-contamination!! I mean—it’s not even 100% dead until it’s cooked, people. There is still some tiny vestigial spark of life in there, and it hates you. Meat will poison you faster than a Weird Sister and to hell with iambic pentameter.

Seafood is the absolute worst. It remembers the freedom of the ocean, and it wants to get back into the sea as quickly as possible. If it hurts you a little on the way out…all the better. Given the high level of bad feeling toward you, it seems pretty irresponsible to eat it raw. One of the most common food poisoning bugs is salmonella. It’s not a mistake that it says “salmon” right in there. The salmon can hate you so much that you get sick from some lettuce.

Because I believe meat is harboring a grudge, I allegedly overcook it¹. I am not overcooking it. I am cooking the revenge out of it. A piece of meat that has been heated through to the recommended temperature is not only properly dead at that point, but it will not come back as a zombie chop or tilapia walker. It has been neutralized. There is plenty of barbeque sauce at Costco to rehydrate your meat, so I’d really rather not hear any complaints about my nice, safe chicken.

Oh, and before you accuse me of knocking something I haven’t tried, I have eaten sushi. In fact, I ate sushi in Japan. Sort of. It was on a Japanese airline, anyway, which is the same thing. No, it didn’t make me sick, but it didn’t make me happy, either. Since I can assert my womanhood with just the wasabi, thank you very much, I’ll continue putting it in my cocktail sauce and mashed potatoes. If you “like” sushi, all the more for you. Don’t ever forget, though, that your harmless indulgence is seasoned with the collective vengeance of millions of tuna. Tuna never forget.

 

[1] Citation: My husband, who thinks those temperature recommendations from the USDA are just suggestions, not THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP HIM SAFE.