Leaving on a Jet Plane

I’m headed to Atlanta tomorrow. I am looking forward to spending the next 1.5 weeks home. I can’t wait to see my friends and my family, sleep in my old bed, and take a bubble bath in my own bathroom. I hope that I’m not too bored, but it will be a major adjustment from being independent in the city to being car-dependent in the suburbs. I’ll have my novel to edit, some books to read, and a bicycle waiting for me--which should be plenty. Beside working on my novel, I am committed to getting a bit of exercise in before the big reveal in Mexico. Oh, to have my toes in white sand and to feel a salty breeze in my face.

Isla de Mujeres – the destination of my first trip in 2010 – looks like paradise from all the pictures. I’m packing a little light reading, Pride and Prejudice (!), but my real goals are to get a massage on the beach, do some sunset yoga, eat lots of Mexican food, and daydream. I'm going for my friend's 30th birthday. Perhaps, I should also celebrate my 30th in a big way (thankfully, I still have 1.5 years).

Although I’ve had a fair break during the past month due to all the vacation days I’ve been using, I still crave quality time away from the hustle and bustle of DC and the near-constant buzzing of my blackberry. And, it’ll be nice to get away from my roommates (especially the subltetter and the infamous mouse family). I will miss Gray Cat, and I hope s/he hangs on until I return.


A Pat on the Back

I started working on a chick-lit novel during the fall of 2007. I am happy to say that tonight I finished the first draft. It's almost 34,000 words--about half of which were added during the past month.

I don't know how I feel about the story at this point. It is silly, simple, and purposeless in many ways. But that is how I feel about most chick-lit. If you are lucky, you come across a book that gives you a gem of wisdom about life. But mostly, it is a marvelous, often mindless, diversion from the everyday.

Regardless of how meaningful or meaningless my story is, I am proud that I followed through and finally finished it. That is something I can celebrate, even if it languishes on my thumbdrive for eternity.

I have two more weeks to add at least another 60,000 words of descriptions, backstory, and dialogue. And I want to strengthen the hook. That is certainly a "heavy lift" but I'm thinking that it will be a fun and rewarding challenge.


Vampire Romance

I'm pretty good at making excuses. I've been too busy this year to write frequent posts, too lazy to work on my bye-bye arms, and too poor to travel beyond ATL. But I think my excuse for not being on track for finishing a draft of my novel by the end of the year is valid.

As I was swept away by the Twilight saga, I have be taken in by the Sookie Stackhouse series. Once skeptical and condescending, I am now a convert and undeniably hooked. The series is just so fun. It is entertaining with a fine mix of mystery, the supernatural, comedy, and romance. I tell myself that I am doing research for my book. While it true that I am getting ideas from the author--especially from how she has developed the characters and her style during the series, that is no excuse for choosing (most nights) to read instead of write.

I must write. I have about 3 weeks to finish the final two scenes before going back and to add fluff and fill out the back story. I guess that is the fun part but right now, nothing is more fun than finding out if Sookie ends up with Eric, Bill, Quinn, or someone else. I can only hope to develop my story and style so that readers can have an escape and an expression that is just as satisfying.

I simply must finish because my new year's creative resolution of acting awaits. I just hope that I don't get sidetracked by the other series I've heard about, Anita Blake. I love that I'm slightly branching out in terms of genres but I realize that at some point I will have to return to the classics, my home.

A shout-out to Organica for reminding me I have readers who enjoy the distraction that is my blog as much as I do.


Subletters Suck

My roommate, who will be out of town for work and vacation all of December, decided to get a subletter for her room. I was fine with her getting a subletter and very hands-off during her search process. I figured that it would only be for one month and as long as the person didn’t steal our stuff or trash the house, I could live with whoever she chose. Boy, was I wrong.

It’s only been a few days, but I am itching for our subletter to leave. I don’t know why he irks me so much. It’s probably the fact that he’s interrupted the house’s routine—my routine. No longer can I come home from work to a quiet house before my other roommates make it home around 730. He’s always there. No longer can I sit in front of the cable TV and eat my dinner. He’s always there watching basketball. Tuesday and yesterday, I asked for his help in picking up the mouse traps. He declined. I’m proud that I was able successfully got rid of the smashed critter on my own but I was furiously puzzled that he wasn’t helpful. Isn’t that what males do for squeamish females like me?

I also find him weird. On the first two nights, I tried to make small talk. It was so awkward that I eventually gave up. I’m not the most sociable person out there, so I won’t talk just for the sake of making you feel comfortable and welcome if you are not taking the bait.

He and my other male roommate seem to get along fine. So it’s just me with the problem (per usual…).

I am a creature of habit and familiarity. Anything or anyone that diverges from my sense of normalcy tends to be instantly disliked, distrusted, and even hated (I’ll comment my reaction to my new workmates some other time). I’ve already started counting down the days until he departs and my old roommate returns. I hope that I am able to keep my cool and my distance until them.