Bad Words: Tactless, Insensitive

~ Kiki Writes ~ 1 Comment

Tactless and insensitive. We’re starting to get into those uncomfortable words. The words that are a little harsher and not so easily dismissed. The words are harder to relate to because we don’t want to relate to them. These aren’t words that we want to admit to.

I admit that I can be tactless and insensitive. Not intentionally (all the time), not that I want to be, but I am.

I truly believe that my tactless tendencies are genetic. I was born with them. That filter in your brain that prevents you from saying things you shouldn’t? Yeah, I don’t have that. Lots of times, it’s out of my mouth before I’m done thinking it.

No big deal, right? That happens to all of us at times. We realize as soon as it comes out of our mouths that we said it instead of just thought it and we shouldn’t have said it. We go red-faced and scramble to make up for it. That happens to me, sure. But most of the time when it happens to me, it’s only when I get in trouble for what I’ve said that I realize that I said it and what I said shouldn’t have been said. I have a kind of delayed reaction to my faux pas that lands my butt in hot water.

On the occasions that I do complete the thought in my head before it escapes my lips, I then have to make the split-second judgment of whether or not I should say it. The call I make is not always a good one. I’ve said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have because to me, I don’t see them as bad.

I’m a terrible judge of these things. I grew up with very blunt parents. In fact, bluntness is as common in my mom’s family as pointy noses, which is to say prevelant and dominant. It doesn’t occur to me to sugar coat things or beat around the bush. It comes out of my mouth pretty much the way I think it without much softening or refining. I don’t necessarily think that it’s going to hurt feelings.

So I’m considered tactless and it’s that trait that contributes to me being insensitive. Whether I think about it or not, much of the stuff that comes out of my mouth is blunt and people not conditioned to that bluntness get offended. It’s not that I intend to offend them. I can’t control their reactions. I try to gauge my words by whether or not I’d be offended, but since I came from blunt parents, not a lot offends me. I can take some real brutal honesty.

Other people were brought up with a little more tact and sensitivity, so it doesn’t fly. They expect a little courtesy. They expect a little discretion. They expect me to keep my mouth shut if I don’t have anything nice to say, and if I have to say it, then I should say it as sweetly as possible.

These people expect too much.

It’s not that I want to be a tactless, insensitive bitch. I don’t set out to stomp all over people’s feelings. There have been many instances in which I was actually trying not to upset someone. But with that tact barometer off, it’s a struggle.

I try to be more mindful of what I say. I try to think about my words, measure them carefully, try to sweeten them up when I need to. And sometimes I succeed. I wouldn’t say it’s a losing battle with these two bad words.

However, it’s the instances in which I succeed that make my failures look so much worse. People know I’m capable of being tactful, so when I don’t come through with it at a critical moment, it’s that much more shocking and the fallout ends up being that much bigger.

Dare I say that I’ve gotten use to the backlash. Inevitably, at least once a week, I’m going to upset someone. Something I say is going to be taken badly by someone, no matter how I meant it or if I meant to say it. And I deal with the consequences.

And I cherish the few moments when I get it right.

Writing–The Stillness of Writing

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

Just because I’m looking out the window doesn’t mean I’m not working.

Okay, maybe at the day job it means I’m not working on day job stuff, but it doesn’t mean I’m not working on writing stuff.

It hasn’t been easy for me to be taken seriously as a writer to begin with. It’s that not bringing in a regular paycheck thing that throws people off. There’s this idea that, paid or not, writing isn’t work. And that idea gets a boost when people see you sitting there doing “nothing”.

Well, I’m here to tell you that most of the time I’m not doing nothing. More than likely, I”m thinking about something.

That game of Bejeweled Blitz could be a break between writing jags. Ditto with checking email or checking Twitter. I’m a big fan of writing sprints, ten minutes writing, ten minutes not, particularly when I’m working on longer projects and particularly when I’m struggling. And if I am sprinting, then those ten minutes I’m not writing aren’t going to waste. I may look like I’m doing nothing, but in reality, I’m plotting what I’m going to write for the next ten minutes.

A lot of plotting and idea developing are done while doing “nothing”. Or while doing the mundane. I’ve done a lot of idea development while playing mindless games of Spider Solitaire and Free Cell or while cooking dinner and doing the laundry. Some great ideas have come to me while I was just staring out the window.

Hell, that’s how I got the idea for this blog post.

My point is that appearances can be decieving and writing is more than just typing. Writing is actually work. It’s an involved process. Maybe it doesn’t make me break a sweat, but it does involve some serious effort. It can be frustrating. The idea doesn’t jump to the page from the first second it appears in my brain and it doesn’t make it onto the paper perfectly the first time. Only once have I had an idea hit the paper so smoothly that it only needed a little revision, but the idea still needed a few days to percolate before I could get down the first word.

Believe me. I’m working a lot, even if it doesn’t look that way.

Okay, maybe not as much at the day job.

Stories By The Numbers

Submitted: 2 (“Playing Chicken” and “Such a Pretty Face”)
Ready: 8 (“Customer Service”, “Game Night”, “An Active Sleeper”, and “At 3:36” join “Husband and Wife”, “Elevator”, “Bigger Than a Squirrel”, and “Erin Go Bragh”)
Accepted/Rejected: 0

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

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

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

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

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

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

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

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

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

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

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.