Writing has ruined me

About a year ago, I was coerced into taking the buyer's position at my company. Now this may seem like a dream-come-true to some people, but I hate shopping. Even when it isn't my money, it feels like my money and it is difficult to spend it, especially if forced to buy more than we need.

Besides not being a "shopper," the job requires a lot of emails. It isn't uncommon to find 5o to 100 emails glaring at me from my inbox in the morning.

Sometimes I think old fashioned mail would be faster, but then again, a simple telephone call would be faster still. Sure I realize it is 19th century technology, but it is so much faster than email. Here is an example:

Acme: "Acme Company."

Me: "Hi, I need to place a purchase order for 250 of those tiny little screws with the Phillips head."

Acme: "Are you talking about the X19PA47838?"

Me: "Yes."

Acme: "You have to buy 5,000 of those at a time."

Me: "But I only need 250.

Acme: "But 5,000 is the minimum order."

Me: Exaggerated sigh. "Okay. How much?"

Acme: "Three cents each."

Me: "Okay. When can we have them?"

Acme: "They'll go out today and you should have them on Thursday."

Me: "Okay. Awesome. Use purchase order number 73P81

Acme: "Thank you. Bye."

Now if you read that out loud, even spending extra time on the sigh, it is only about a minute.

But if I use email, all those questions and answers--over a series of emails--will take several hours. This is because I'm a writer, which has totally destroyed my ability to write. First I write the email, then I begin the first edit, taking out as many words as possible. I must open the thesaurus to look up alternate words for "awesome" (which is just plain silly to say in an email), and decide on a different word for the second "okay." Then I do a spell-check. Next I run it past my email critique group, and make any necessary revisions. The next step is to submit it to my email beta readers. After meeting with them over coffee, I make more revisions. Next comes another session with the critique group, a final revision, and I'm finally ready to hit the "send" button. And that is just the first email. I must repeat it for the second and third.

Does anyone else find that emails drain the life out of your day?

Good News, Bad News, Good News

Good news is that spring is here in the Northwest. That means rain with sun breaks.

The bad news is that the grass is growing really, really fast and if you don't stay on top of it, you have to ride the mower through a jungle of green. I've been working very hard on revisions and, I admit, my grass got pretty long. Then I couldn't get my mower started and it got longer. A friend came over and got it going, but then I couldn't get it into gear. The grass got longer. But today, I managed to get it started and get it into gear and off I went, mowing nearly a half acre of hidden obstacles in tall ground cover. If I wasn't running into a concealed fir branch, I was plowing through a mole hill. That is bad enough, but at the last moment, as I rode along the edge--the mower deck whirling and the engine booming--I saw the snake. I screamed, but it was too late.

Now I have about 30 pieces of snake all over the yard. It makes me almost hope there are crows around.

But the good news is that on my commute, I pulled into the driveway of this baby and learned she is two and a half weeks old, her name is Feather, she takes after her dad, and she is already learning to walk on a halter lead. Later I felt kind of bad because I never even asked the man his name. Just grilled him about the little, baby girl, took the picture and left. Am I lame, or what?

More good news is that the revisions are actually going pretty well. My critique group likes the results and I'm beginning to enjoy this round of revision.

Bad news is I'm not going to be posting much.

Revisions and Riesling

When I was researching The Pirates' Reckoning, a lot of time was spent at the library and book stores. When I began writing it, I spent a lot of time at Starbucks. It is such a great place to zone out and write. But what do you do when you reach a roadblock?Writer's block.

A rush trip to Lincoln City on the Oregon coast. There is something so soothing about the pounding surf and the squawking gulls and the foggy mist setting in at night. Salt settles on the paint of the car and slimy bird droppings dribble down the windshield. A bowl of clam chowder at Mo's and a glass of Riesling on the deck lend that extra push to kick-start the sluggish mind.

On Sunday morning I had breakfast at a restaurant with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the ocean. It was in that restaurant I first saw the kaleidoscope of rainbow color as the morning sun lit the spindrift floating over windblown waves. Yesterday, while sipping my mimosa, I saw a whale spout, breach and plunge back in, flipping his tail like a lover waves to a departing train.

I got a lot of rewrite done over an extended weekend. But then I took a drive to Newport. There is a lot happening in Newport, but something made me want to write about ghost ships, and zombies.

Next book.