Author: Kiki Writes

Rumored to be a writer. Never hip. Land of Lincoln Cleavage Queen three years running.

Writing–Non-Fiction Attraction

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

I have a real love for non-fiction.

It started when I was a kid. I liked to read biographies. It didn’t matter who was the subject. Sports stars, actors, presidents, muscians, anybody, it didn’t matter; I liked to read about other people’s lives. I read about my obsessions. Sharks, dinosaurs, tornadoes, anything that scared and fascinated me.  I read about all things pop culture. To this day I love useless knowledge.

There came a point, some time in high school I think, that I realized that I read more non-fiction than fiction. I’m still that way. Check out my bookshelf and you’ll see. I’ve got books on dead bodies, morgues, fat girls, baby names, horror movies, writing, astrology, spells, tarot, body language, psychology, genomes, algebra, serial killers, and a few memoirs. I even kept all of the text books from my three stints in college so I could read them at my leisure.

I guess it’s just a draw I have. I like to learn things, all kinds of things. A lot of my books are acquired because of my obsessions and interests. I admit that I’m looking into getting some books on baseball, specifically pitching and stats, to feed my current addiction. But then I’m also looking at a book on Hell and a book on the positive effects of peer pressure because I came across both in the paper and they looked interesting.

One would think that as a fiction writer, I would be reading lots of fiction. And really, I should be. It’s an important part of my job. Don’t get me wrong; I like fiction. I don’t consider reading it an unpleasant part of this gig. But when I’m cruising through Amazon or prowling the shelves of my library, non-fiction has a tendency to catch my attention first. Odd since fiction is considered the flashier of the two.

I’ve thought about writing non-fiction, but I’ve never really gotten up the gumption to take the plunge and give it a shot. I’ve get ideas and I write them down and I try to develop them, but it doesn’t go much farther than that. As marginally qualified to write fiction as I feel I am, I feel totally unqualified to write non-fiction.

That’s not to say that I won’t, eventually, give it a go, of course.

I just need to read a little bit more first.

Stories By The Numbers

-Submitted: 2 (“Such a Pretty Face” and “Playing Chicken”)
-Ready: 5 (“Customer Service” joins “Husband and Wife”, “Elevator”, “Bigger Than a Squirrel”, and “Erin Go Bragh”)
-Accepted/Rejected: 0

GERDing My Stomach

~ Kiki Writes ~ 1 Comment

Now that I’m getting a regular paycheck and have this fancy thing called health insurance, I decided to splurge on a doctor’s appointment to get a problem I’ve been having with my throat. According to the very nice doctor I saw, he suspects that my throat trouble is caused by gastroesophageal reflux disease, aka, GERD.

GERD is chronic reflux of the stomach acid into the esophagus and mouth, sometimes it can even get into the nose and sinuses. It’s caused by a weak lower esophageal sphincter muscle allowing the acid out of the stomach. Common symptoms include heartburn, regurgitation, and dysphagia (trouble swallowing). Other possible symptoms can include pain with swallowing, excessive salivation, hoarseness, chronic cough, and sinusitis. It can lead to esophageal damage including ulcers, strictures (narrowing of the esophagus), Barrett’s esohpagus, and elevated risk of cancer.

In short, there’s nothing sexy about GERD.

It doesn’t even have a good sound to it. GERD. The most common reaction when I told people that I had GERD was giggles because it’s a funny sounding word. It doesn’t exactly conjure up an immediate serious reaction.

It’s not a sexy disease. It’s not something you want to admit to having. Chronic heartburn plus. It sounds like something Fish on Barney Miller would have. It sounds like people in a retirement village in Florida complain about while looking over the menu at the Early Bird Special. It’s not something that people are rallying to find a cure for. It’s not getting fundraisers or charity events. It doesn’t have a ribbon. It’s an inconvenient, uncomfortable, funny-sounding disease that people snicker at.

And unfortunately, it’s kind of having a negative effect on my life, which is hard to explain while people are giggling.

First of all, there’s really no cure. I get to spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how to manage my symptoms. This can involve changing my diet to avoid more acidic foods. I can sleep at an incline. I can lose weight. I can take acid blockers.

That’s all well and good, I suppose. The doctor already instructed me to take a particular kind of over the counter acid blocker, twice a day, every day. I’m supposed to do that for a month to see if that helps. I’ve noticed that if I miss a pill (and I’ve missed one and been late for a couple), I get heartburn. So, I suppose it is helping some.

But the lump in my throat that prompted me to go to the doctor in the first place is still there. It was there for two years before I finally went and I guess it’s going to be there for a while longer. Maybe forever. I don’t know. The damage has probably been done and there’s the possibility that I’ll have to live with the dysphagia for the rest of my life.

Still laughing?

It’s not fun trying to swallow something and not be able to get it down. Ever get a Cheeto stuck? How about a piece of lettuce? That lump in my throat makes it difficult to get some things down on the first try. The lettuce was the worst. It felt like it was just laying across that lump, like a wet leaf stuck to a rock.

I suppose I can hope that the treatment works and the lump will go away and the swallowing will get easier with the treatment, but considering I’ve had the lump for two years, I think I’m passed the point of hope. I think this is it and I just have to hope that it doesn’t get any worse.

It’s not fun wondering about what’s going on in my gut. Wondering how much actual damage has been done and how much more I can expect. Struggling to remember to take my pills (haven’t quite gotten into the swing of the meds yet). Being questioned on whether I remembered to take my pills. Being questioned on whether or not I should be eating/drinking that.

The latter is par for the course. I’m also lactose intolerant to a certain extent (back in the olden days, they just called it a milk allergy), so my mother has always questioned my eating choices. That part I’m used to, but it’s still not fun.

I realize that I’m being cranky about this. I realize I’m taking all of the fun out of this for everyone else.

I guess I just don’t find it nearly as amusing as it sounds.

Five Things I Love About Cubs Games

~ Kiki Writes ~ 4 Comments

I’ve only been to Wrigley Field a few times in my life so far, but it’s not for lack of love. I love seeing the Cubs play and I love seeing them do it at Wrigley Field and I’m hoping one day that I’ll see them actually win a game so I can hear “Go Cubs Go”.

Since I just went to a game Wednesday, here are five things I love about Cubs games.

1. Batting Practice. Watching the pitchers shag balls in the outfield is always entertaining. I’ve seen more than one grown man throw their glove up in the air at a ball. I’ve also seen some really nice catches.

2. Watching The Bullpen Warm Up. Unless someone is pitching an absolute gem, the bullpen pitchers prepare to enter the game. You look over and there are two, three, four guys walking abound, flapping their arms, and looking absolutely ridiculous. Invisible Nordic Track, Helicopters, and Yay I Get To Pitch are some of the names I’ve given to their warm up moves.

3. Singing The 7th Inning Stretch. Sure, they do this in lots of ballparks, but none of them are quite like Wrigley. It’s not as good since Harry is gone, but some of the guest conductors can be fun.

4. The Stuff You Don’t See On TV. Things happen between innings and during pitching changes that are shown on TV in favor of commercials. That’s a shame because the crowd doing the YMCA, the pitchers goofing off in the bullpen, and the outfielders interacting with the crowd is definitely more entertaining.

5. Helmet Nachos. These things are epic.

I have the helmet to prove it.

Writing–April Projects

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It’s more of the same old, same old when it comes to writing in April.

I’m going to continue working on The World (Saving) Series revisions. I’m going to try to get a few more chapters done. Slowly, but surely, I’ll win this race.

I’ve got four short stories that need to be reviewed: “At 3:36”, “An Active Sleeper”, “Game Night”, and “Customer Service”. I actually sold “Customer Service” a couple of years ago, but it was never published and the ezine folded, so now it’s back in my pile. I’m looking forward to reading it, since it’s been so long. It’s also been awhile since I’ve laid eyes on “An Active Sleeper” and “Game Night”.

It’ll never be long enough before I read “At 3:36” again.

The goal is to get these four stories onto my ready list. Evenutally, I’m going to be more proactive in submitting my work again and if they’re ready, it makes my life a little easier.

I’m also going to write another short story for the blog. The point of these stories is to drum up some interest in and awareness of The World (Saving) Series and what I’m calling the Outskirts Universe. If people like the short stories and the characters in the short stories (and not just because they’re free), then should I ever get the book published, they may be moved to read that as well. Right now the stories are mostly focusing on Stanley, since the book mostly focuses on Stanley, but I’m looking to give other characters a starring role in their own shorts.

I have no idea if this is going to work, especially since I have no idea if I’ll ever get the book published or not, or if it’ll end up being a waste of time, but I guess it’s worth a try. I don’t think it’ll hurt anything.

Not giving it a shot would probably hurt more.

Stories By The Numbers

Submitted: 2 (“Such a Pretty Face” and “Playing Chicken” are still out.)
Ready: 4 (“Husband and Wife”, “Elevator”, “Bigger Than a Squirrel”, and “Erin Go Bragh” are still waiting in the wings.)
Rejections: 1 (No go for “Another Deadly Weapon”.)

Wrecking My Happy Place

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I don’t like anyone right now. Everyone is getting on my nerves, everything is getting under my skin. It’s like having a sunburn on my patience; nothing is comfortable.

I’m sure the first thing people will think (especially if they are people in possession of a penis) is that it’s hormonal. If it is, then I’m going to become even more irritated because this has pretty much been a constant state for me for the past several months.

My first thought, knowing me as I do, is that it’s depression related. The last time I was depressed, I was pretty much in a constant state of irritability. I don’t think I’m depressed. I don’t WANT to think I’m depressed. There’s no reason for me to be depressed. If anything, I should be recovering from a depression now that things are turning around in a sense, what with the regular income and all.

However, it’d be good for me to follow the guidelines my therapist set for me all those years ago to help get me out of a funk. Just to be safe.

Back then my therapist prescribed exercise, appropriate stress release, journaling, creative endeavors, and wallowing in something I really love.

Journaling and exercise are two things I’ve never stopped doing. Writing and blogging count toward creative endeavors, though if I could find a little more time, I’d do a little art. Appropriate stress relief is something I’m always going to have to work on, but I really don’t feel like I’m that stressed. That regular income has done wonders for my stress level now that I know I don’t have to worry about my bills. Any other stress I might have is just little things, fleeting things.

Wallowing in something I really love. Camping out in my happy place. You’d think that’d be the easiest on the list.

You would think.

My happy place changes over time. I’ve gone hips deep into all kinds of things because they occupied a pleasure area of my brain and gave me warm fuzzies. M*A*S*H, General Hospital, The Monkees, wrestling, sharks, tornadoes, The Three Stooges, there’s no limit to my happy place interests. Right now my happy place is baseball.

This should shock no one following me on Twitter.

Unfortunately, my happy place really isn’t that happy. Part of enjoying my happy place comes from learning everything I can and indulging in the knowledge of what I’m currently in love with. The other part is interacting with other people feeling the love.

It’s the other people that are spoiling my good time.

They keep coming in my playground and kicking my woodchips. I want to watch the game with fans who are also interested in watching the game and having a good time. I want to discuss the game and the players and the stats while admiring good plays and groaning at bad at bats. It’s supposed to be fun. But people who have attached too much of their egos to their teams are bringing me down.

I’m used to the Cubs suck rhetoric. I’ve heard it all my life. It’s old and annoying. The material isn’t fresh and the jokes are as old as the Cubs’ last World Series win. I’m more offended by the lack of creativity than anything.

However, the Cubs suck rhetoric coming from Cubs fans is really harshing my buzz. I can understand being frustrated with your team, but the venom some of these people are spewing is really eating away at my mellow. The games aren’t enjoyable anymore because as soon as someone makes a mistake or does something they don’t think is appropriate for their salary level or gives up a run, it’s just a constant stream of hate on the Cubs hashtag on Twitter, where I do most of my interacting.

Last season the Cubs were terrible, but I enjoyed myself more. We’re only three games into the 2011 season and I’m already sick of most of the fans. They’ve just sucked the fun out of the game for me. And that aggravates me because I hate it when people piss on my barbecue, no matter what it is. My happy place has been trashed and I don’t have a new happy place to go to.

Which irritates me.

Maybe I’m not depressed after all. Maybe Hell really is other people.

Happy April Fool’s Day

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Ah, April Fool’s Day. The day to make fools of friends, loved ones, and enemies.

I’m not big on April Fool’s Day. I don’t really have much of a practical joke sense of humor. I also can’t believe anything anyone says that day, which can end up being very awkward if something legitimately significant actually happens. My April Fool’s Days are usually spent on the sidelines, though on occasion I will aid and abet.

My favorite April Fool’s Day joke that I participated in happened back when I wrote for a wrestling website.

Our head honcho came up with the idea to make it look like a parent group against wrestling (very prevelant at the time) had taken over our domain name. He actually laid the groundwork a few days ahead of time, posting an announcement on the site and having all of us writers sell it to our readers. Come April 1st, he switched the site to the joke layout.

The new columns that appeared on the site were written in such a way that they started off very serious and the farther along  you read, the more ridiculous they got. It was really quite good. We ended up getting a lot of traffic and most people who got the joke thought it was hilarious.

However, some people didn’t get the joke and we ended up fielding several emails about it. Of course, we straightened them out. Eventually.

All of us were pretty proud of tha tjoke and we were never able to top it.

It’s been over ten years since I played my small part in that and no aiding and abetting I’ve done since then has paled in comparison. If fact they’re so pale, I can’t even remember them.

Enjoy your fooling.

Save anything serious for tomorrow.

Writing–Rejection Before the Rejection

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I knew that when I decided to pursue writing as an actual job that I was going to have to toughen up pretty quickly. Rejection is the name of the game and persistence is the only way to win. To be persistent for the long haul, you have to be able to shake off the NO’s, heal quickly, and move on.

I caught on and adapted quicker than I thought I would, particularly after I realized just how subjective rejections could be (as I rambled on about in a previous post). There’s not much sting to them anymore. I make note of them for my records, jot down and consider any feedback I get (some of it has been helpful, some of it hasn’t), and put the story in my review pile so I can re-read it, tweak it, and send it out once again. A rejection now hardly gets a rise out of my disappointment meter.

In fact, I’ve gotten so good at rejection that I started rejecting my stories before they officially get rejected. If it’s been more than six months (usually it’s longer when I look at my records and realize that the piece is still out), I consider it rejected and move it to the review pile. Yes, I should probably get into the habit of inquiring about submissions because that’s good practice, but I still have to get over my hang up about feeling like I’m bugging people. Instead I just guess rejection and move on.

This has worked out for me so far, but has recently led to some confusion. As in I’ve gotten rejections for stories I already called as rejected. a couple of those official rejections came not too long after my own rejections.

However, the most recent one came several months after I considered it rejected, almost a year after I’d submitted it. The letter (an actual, physical bit of paper) was addreessed to me and was sorry to inform me that they wouldn’t be using my story. Except the story they referred to in the rejection letter was actually the title of an anthology that I had been published in that I offered up as a credit. Oops.

Yeah, I might have been momentarily confused, but that rejection didn’t sting at all.

Bad Words: Difficult, Frustrating

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Difficult…Frustrating…

I am a downright pain in the ass.

Between stubborness I came by honestly (my last name is synonymous with stubborn) and the odd quirks I’ve devleoped for whatever reason over the years, I can be trying to deal with. Much of my being difficult and frustrating comes from, I feel, my other bad words.

I do not have the best social skills and I’m pretty socially illiterate. I don’t read people well and I don’t interpret their words, gestures, behaviors, and actions correctly. This leads to me having knee-jerk reactions to seemingly inoccuous things, sometimes not taking jokes well because I see them as insults, which causes people to think I can dish it out but can’t take it.

On the flip-side, there have some compliments I’ve received that later I think people were insulting me, but I somehow missed the sarcasm. This has led me to be suspect of any kind of compliment I receive. I may be gracious when accepting it, but in the back of my mind I’m processing it, trying to find the insult. Sometimes, I just outright ask (we’ll discuss my lack of brain-mouth filter in another post). This doesn’t usually reflect well on me either.

My emotions give me difficulties, which in turn, make me difficult. I have trouble expressing my feelings adequately. Vulcans have better luck with it than I do. I can never seem to explain myself well in the moment. It’s only hours later that I realize exactly what I meant and what I should have said and by that time, it’s too late. I’ve already made an ass of myself and that incident has been chalked up in the mind of whoever I’ve offended, never to be erased. It’s one of those classic cases of I know what I mean, but no one else does because I’m failing to communicate it properly.

I also have issues with having the wrong emotions for a particular situation. I should be mad, but I’m not. I should be relieved, but I’m not. I should be happy, but I’m not. I should be sad, but I’m not. These inappropriate reactions cause some serious frustrations with my friends. There’s a general feeling of “you’re doing it wrong” about those awkward interactions and reactions that I haven’t been able to correct.

Then there’s the lingering effects of being raised by a family that deals with every situation with humor. We make jokes about everything. Life, death, and all that goes with it. It’s how we cope. However, it’s not appropriate in every situation with every person and I have a tendency to forget that. My default reaction is to make light of whatever situation I’m in. Not everyone understands or appreciate that. Or thinks well of me for it.

And then, of course, there’s the running of the mouth. Man, do I come by that honestly. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s best for me to shut up. On one hand, it leads me to get tongue-tied and awkward, but I keep going to try to straighten out my knot. On the other hand, I have a tendency to go too far and end up blowing past the point of no return.

All of these little things combine to make me hard to handle and sometimes not worth dealing with. It’s frustrating that I don’t have the appropriate responses. It’s frustrating for my friends to have to deal with that, to put the energy into handling me. You can hear it in their voices when they say everything but what they want to say in those situations to spare my feelings.

I wish they wouldn’t. I know I’m a pain in the ass. They can just go ahead and say it. Go ahead and call me on it. I’m fine with it. If I know what I’m doing (because a lot of this stuff I really don’t realize),  maybe I can make the effort to change and therefore, stop being so difficult.

It’s not like I’m not trying now, of course. I’m just not very good at it. Typically, I realize when it’s too late so I try to remember about it for next time. But, every situation isn’t the same, so there’s a good chance I don’t catch myself in time again.

I’m not trying to excuse myself; just trying to explain it. I know understanding doesn’t make it any less annoying/offensive/frustrating, but dammit, I want some credit for trying.

Maybe these bad words don’t seem so bad. Well, just wait. The farther we go, the worse the words get. The worse the words get, the worse these words will seem in retrospect.

That’s how bad words work.

Rerun Junkie–The Golden Girls

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This is one of my reruns that I watched during its first run. I was a kid then, of course, but I found those four old women really funny. Now that I’m older, I find them funnier since I get all of the innuendo and adult humor. And the theme song is still catchy.

I shouldn’t have to go into the details of this show, but I’m going to for my own amusement.

The premise is simple and something that probably wouldn’t have gotten the greenlight from NBC today: four women over 50 live together and eat cheesecake. The women possessed four distinct personalities designed to give viewers a favorite, if they could possibly settle on a favorite. Blanche (Rue Mc was the saucy sexpot. Dorothy was the sarcastic intellectual. Rose was the naive-to-the-point-of-nearly-stupid sweetheart. And Sophia was the wise-cracking old woman with no filter between her mouth and her brain.

Not pictured: cheesecake

The women as a group were lively, fun, caring, kind, and a little naughty. Together they faced the perils of aging while maintaining a mature, but youthful outlook. It wasn’t four old women sitting around talking about grandchildren and knitting things. It was four older women living life. They dated, they worked, they vactioned, they struggled, they laughed, they solved problems, they dealt with family, they ate a lot, and they dressed liek it was October in Wisconsin instead of any time in Miami.

Why the long sleeves, ladies?

The show had its share of recurring characters and guest stars. Stan was my favorite. Herb Edleman was both fun and fantastic as Dorothy’s ex. Nancy Walker and Bill Dana as Sophia’s siblings, Sid Melton as Sophia’s husband, Debra Engle as Blanche’s daughter Rebecca, Scott Jacoby as Dorothy’s son, and Monte Markham as Blanche’s gay brother were also great. And, of course, who didn’t love Harold Gould as Miles Webber? (Side note: Harold Gould played a member of a mob family on Hawaii 5-0, which made his revelation that he was a mob informant on The Golden Girls that much better for me.)

Other notable guest stars included Leslie Nielsen, Robert Culp,  Anne Francis, Debbie Reynolds, Steve Landesberg, Phil Leeds, George Clooney, Rita Moreno, and of course the cast of their spin-off, Empty Nest.

The plots were sometimes questionable (like Miles being in the witness protection program), but hey, it’s a sitcom. They’re supposed to be wacky. They did a decent enough job with continuity, which is more than you can say for most shows.

Besides, most of the time the show was too funny to notice any mistakes. The dialogue was always snappy and well done with some really memorable deliveries. It’s what makes watching the episodes over and over again so worth it.

Yes, I can quote large chunks of dialogue. Why do you ask?

Where I Watch It

Writing–Script Frenzy

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Script Frenzy is next month.

I participated in it lst year for the first time. The goal is to write a 100 page script of some kind (movie, TV show, stage play, graphic novel) in 30 days. It’s like NaNoWriMo for the non-novel set. I thought it would be a fun way to get some experience writing in another format. It was also a good excuse to do nearly nothing but dialogue. Yes, I love dialogue.

 In order to hit 100 pages in 30 days, you have to write at least 3 1/3 pages every day.

I decided to write two episodes of a 60 minute TV show of my own creation. Since one minute equals one page, it meant that I’d have to write 120 pages. And since I’d want to do it in the 30 days, it meant that I needed to write four pages a day. And since I like to overachieve and set myself up for disappointment, I pushed that up to five pages a day so I could either finish early or build up a little cushion in case of bad days.

Honestly, despite my fondness for dialogue, I thought I’d struggle with it. I prepared myself, notecarding scenes and whatnot, but I thought the new format and style would cause me some trouble. There was also the possibility that my brain my seize up and I wouldn’t be able to work the storyline that I had planned out.

In the end, it went well.

I caught onto the new format, found a pretty good rhythm with the story, and really had a blast doing it.

So it bums me out to think that I’m probably not going to be able to particiapte this year. I’ve got a couple of ideas I could sketch out, but I’ve got less than ten days to do that and more pressing business to attend to. I should also focus my April on revising The World (Saving) Series and seeing to my list of short stories. Not to mention the time crunch the day job puts me on would make Script Frenzy a little less fun and a little more work.

But I haven’t ruled it out completely.

I’m a sucker like that.

Stories By The Numbers
Submitted: 3 (“Playing Chicken” joins “Such a Pretty Face” and “Another Deadly Weapon”)
Ready: 4
Accepted/Rejected: 0