Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Survived...sort of.

Hallelujah! 50,000 words written in 30 days is mine for the taking. And that would be the second year in a row. Although, I think I'm a contender for Most Sleep Deprived Mother of the Year Award.

Instead of shouting from the rooftops at my writing accomplishment, I recalled every moment where I could have done more. Not just from the writing aspect of my life, but in every aspect.

I am a wife, a mother...and then an author. My three year old taught me an unmistakable and unforgettable lesson. She wanted to wear a dress that was too small, and shoes that were far too big. The second I relented, she ran to the nearest rock and danced.

And danced. She sang and danced about her dress being too small and the shoes being too big. It didn't matter to her. She came to dance, and dance she did.

Instead of complaining that my two books aren't polished enough, my house isn't swimming in bleach and I'm not remotely ready for Christmas; I'm going to dance 'til my legs won't move and my voice goes hoarse.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

NaNoWriMo or Bust

It's that time again - when caffeine, laundry and chaos are temporary masters of my house!
My keyboard will complain of abuse (along with the alternating writing stations - couch and desk). This year I'm not a true NaNoWriMo. I'll be revising SEALED on some days, while pushing through a first draft of an untitled women's fiction.
Wish me luck as I enter the proverbial trenches!

Nobody puts Clarissa in the corner, nobody.

Yes, I'm one of those people. I'm a (insert gasp) a runner. And no, its not for any particular reason. I crave chocolate and deliciousness too much for a health nut. I do however, love every aspect of running - but not for the obvious reasons.
I stand at a mere five feet zero inches. I was pulled over for truancy the junior year of college. When I took my high school graduation pictures, the lady asked when I was going to be old enough for middle school. I'm never taken seriously. Except - when running. Yes, I am the shorty with muscular legs pounding the pavement several times a week. Yes, I do speed up when men try and pass me. Unless, you're my husband who can outrun me while pushing two of our kids in a giant stroller.
In short, nobody puts Clarissa in a corner. Nobody.