Days of Whine and Rosebush Thorns

1. According to a site that matches celebrities based on your image, I most resemble Laura Bush, her daughter, and Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. My interpretation: I have a face for politics, but not the stomach or ability to suck azz.

2. My little fuzzballs lost their mommy, so I lost them, too, my sweet little rodents that sit here right by my desk so I can watch them burrow and tunnel all over the place. It looks so lonely in there, even with 7 other critters left behind.

3. I'm still no further with my synopsis.

4. Favre got hurt last night.

5. I got pissed off and wrote a letter to the city. Before I send it, though, I better come up with more facts to counter the "Give them a ride (with all the new gas money they have from voting themselves raises). Hey, we live here. We love being taken for a ride!" bit.

6. I cannot kick this cold/cough crap. Neither can my kids.

7. Junior jammed the same digit adjacent to the metacarpal he cracked a while back. Yeah, panic. The swelling's down and the knuckle is still apparent, so I think we're in the clear.

8. I can unload/load a chock-full dishwasher, type and make $30, clean out dead critters and their huge tank with proper fumigation, wash some pans, finish a ham and make fixings to go with it, and do two loads of laundry in 1-1/2 hours. And Stud wonders why I'd like him to take Dude to his games once in a while.

9. My little fuzzies are gone. I know I've already said it, but I don't like it.

10. Apparently, Junior needs a guided tour of the kitchen to establish what "everything" means when you want him to wash "everything." I told him to wash "everything" that didn't fit in the dishwasher. While I showered, he came to the door three times to ask if a mixing bowl, a baking dish, and a pot (respectively) were included in "everything." Everything means everything, right?

11. I'm wiggling in my seat. I hate dull razors.

RIP little critters. Youse were precious little fuzzies.

OH. I almost forgot. I did some graphics-heavy stuff on the "fluffy" blog and...guess what? It made like 20 people's computers freeze. Yeah. Like they'll be back.

Forget Calgon, Captain Morgan take me hostage! (2)

I did it. I finally got out the ol' synopsis form. I went through each of the criterion. I outlined my characters' characters, their inner conflicts and turmoil, their dark moments, and their epiphanies. So I have this chart, see? It actually helped. I saw a few things there that I needed to clear up in the book itself, just a sentence here and there, to strengthen it. I haven't gone completely back through it...yet.

Why?

Because I looked at all this information and, guess what, got confounded by how to piece it all together.

I went back through my collection of synopsis links and, low and behold, I open a page and think...

Shit.

She proposes that I should go through the book and do a chapter-by-chapter summary, which is a really good idea on top of what I've already done. I've re-read the book four times in the last two weeks. Next time, I'll just wait to reread, do the chapter summaries first, and THEN the outline.

Whining begins: I finally get to it and realize I have so much farther to go! I can't stand it! I finally made myself do it. It's like I finally cornered the dragon and brought the aluminum sword instead of the one made of tempered steel!

And this, folks, is why I doubt my ability to become an author in binding. Writing books is the easy part! I doubt my ability to do this again for the other four finished novels!!!

Whining ends.

Self-soothing begins: My book will be stronger. I will be stronger. I will have done something I've never managed to do before. My hair will grow back.

Analysis: I'm so sick of this darn book. It's not even my favorite, but it's the only one I have that's less than 120K words and fits the criterion for the publishing co I'm catering to, here.

Shit. I realize this blog is like my own personal life's synopsis. Let's see. Ten qualities about our heroine?

1. Neurotic.
2. Neurotic.

I'm not sure I have any other 10 adjectives to describe me right now, other than I want to have the following:

1. Get drunk off my azz.
2. Eat ice cream.
3. Get some real cigarettes and not this crappy light kind.
4. Bitch from a beach somewhere.

Ach, I'm stopping. I'm not even amusing myself this morning. I guess I'll go complain to my kids while they fuss at me for being so evil as to send them to school, ruining a perfectly good holiday.