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.

Rerun Junkie–The Golden Girls

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

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

~ Kiki Writes ~ 1 Comment

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

A Love Affair with the Loveable Losers

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

I can remember being about nine or ten, sitting in the living room with my mom, summer sunshine pouring through the windows, fans going to beat the heat, and my mom just ranting at the TV because the Cubs put Paul Assenmacher in to pitch.

My mother absolutely despised Paul Assenmacher. You would have thought the man once kicked her grandmother the way she spewed venom.

“Oh, great! I guess we don’t want to win today! Damn, Assenmacher!”

Obviously, this is a clean version of my mother’s ranting.

 I grew up thinking that he was a terrible pitcher, but looking back on his stats now, he really wasn’t. I have no idea why she hated him. My guess is that he blew a game and my mom marked him for life.

I preferred to watch the games on TV. Mom listened to a lot of them on the radio because in the afternoon she’d be laying out in the backyard. I once asked Mom where Harry Caray went during the middle of the game. He’d leave for a couple of innings, but always be back by the 7th to sing the stretch. Mom said he was at the bar drinking beer. It turns out that he was working the radio. I wouldn’t have figured that out if Mom hadn’t listened to the games.

I can remember one of the few times I listened to a game as a kid, I took my little portable radio to the park so I could play and listen to the game at the same time. My radio died and I ran home like my pants were on fire so I wouldn’t miss any of the game.

My favorite players growing up were Andre Dawson, Ryne Sandberg, and Shawon Dunston. When I played ball, those were the players I tried to be. I started off in the outfield and I was Andre Dawson. I was even number 8. I worked really hard to have as good of an arm as he had. When I played the left side of the infield, I was Shawon Dunston. He wore my favorite number and I did my best to do him proud.

My last year I played summer ball, I played second base. You know I was rocking like I was Ryne Sandberg. I was never number 23, but worked my butt off to play like him.

I never had a favorite pitcher despite being a pitcher, too. Maybe if I had, I would have liked it better.

My first Cubs game came in August of 1994. My aunt and uncle took me, my sister, and several of my cousins. It was a pretty big deal. It was Ryne Sandberg Day, but he wasn’t there. Shawon Dunston didn’t play either. But I did get to sit on the first baseline, right in line with Mark Grace and watch him play. Sammy Sosa before he was Sammy Sosa and Glenallen Hill were in the outfield. We lost to the Marlins 9-8. It was an exciting game, but the loss was disappointing.

People still go on about the Fish killing our dreams in 2003. I still hadn’t gotten over this upstart team beating my Cubs nine years earlier. I’m just now starting to not resent the Marlins.

Between graduating high school, Kid K, and the home run race, I’ll never forget the ’98 season.

I couldn’t watch the 2003, 2007, and 2008 playoffs too closely because it was just too stressful. My heart broke each time, but my blood pressure returning to normal sort of helped the healing.

The second game I was supposed to go to was rained out. I finally made it back last September and watched my Cubs lose to the Giants 1-0. But I got to watch the game from the famous bleachers, yell at some disrespectful children during the National Anthem, and watch batting practice. Watching the pitchers shag balls in the outfield, particularly Andrew Cashner working with the bat boy, put me in a good mood that the rain delay and loss couldn’t dampen.

I’m going to do my best to make it back to Chicago this year. I don’t want to wait another fifteen years for my next game at Wrigley.

When people ask me why I’m a Cubs fan, there’s this implication that what they really want to know is why I’d torture myself rooting for a perpetually losing team.

For me, it’s not really torture.

And I don’t think they’d get it anyway.

Writing–The Reading Requirement

~ Kiki Writes ~ 1 Comment

Stephen King says that to be a good writer you must read a lot and write a lot.

I believe that.  His book On Writing is like a bible for me. I respect the man. I enjoy his work and his advice (and his sense of humor; I have endured many a dirty look from a cat startled awake by my cackling). Uncle Stevie has yet to steer me wrong. He’s an influence on me as a writer.

Which is why it pains me to say that I’m letting him down.

I will be the first person to admit that I have terrible reading habits. I like to read. I do. I enjoy it. My parents started me young. I learned to read at three and trips to the library were the highlight of the week during the summer (we read in the winter, too, but we got to walk to the library in the summer, therefore bigger deal). But no matter how much I read, I never got a good rhythm established.

I read in bursts. I can read two, three, four books a month for three months and then read nothing by writing magazines for three months. Then I might spend two months reading a book that would normally take me a week. Then I’ll got a month without reading anything deeper than baseball news.

It’s terrible.

I’m horrible with time management and even worse about setting aside time to read.  It’s far too low on my priority list. Growing up, reading was a downtime thing. You did it when you got everything else done. You did it to relax. It’s a mindset I can’t get out of now.

Reading is part of my job as a writer, but I have trouble getting that through my thick skull. I can’t rationalize reading when I have this, that, and the other to get done. So, I put off and the reading gets done in inefficient fashion.

It’s long past time to establish a better habit and to move reading up on the priority list. I’ll do it like I do most things, gradually so I make sure it sticks. The thinking behind this is by doing it slowly and giving myself time to adjust, it also gives myself time to change the way I think about reading.

That’s the key.

Transforming reading from a pastime to a job requirement.

Stories By The Number

Submitted: 2 (“Such a Pretty Face” and “Another Deadly Weapon”)
Ready: 4 (“Husband and Wife”, “Elevator”, “Bigger Than a Squirrel”, and “Erin Go Bragh”)
Accepted: 1! You can now read “Summer Rot” on Suburban Fool!

Kiss Me, I’m Not Irish

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m not Irish. At least I’m pretty sure I’m not Irish.

I say this because St. Patrick’s Day is approaching and never will you meet so many people claiming Irish decent. I don’t know if it’s the green beer or the desire to be kissed, but suddenly everyone’s got a leprachaun hanging from their family tree.

So, yeah, I’m not Irish. At least I haven’t found any evidence to suggest that there’s any Irish in my family. I fully acknowledge that there are branches of my tree that haven’t been fully explored (and some that haven’t been well pruned or watered, but that’s another post for another day). Maybe I do have a few shamrocks in there. But until I see some evidence, I won’t presume anything for the sake of wearing green bowlers and Chicago dying their river a brighter shade of green.

From what I’m told by members of my family that had the tenacity to actually research branches of my family, I’m mostly Scottish and German. That’s on both sides, too. To simplify things I just say that I’m half-Scottish, half-German, though I know that there’s at least one Frenchman in there on my Dad’s side, and I’m not sure about part of my mother’s family.

My Dad’s family (those bearing the Haws name) crossed the ocean a long time ago. A long, long time ago. We’re talking the late 1600’s. As soon as Scotland heard that there was a new country open they put my family on the boat.

At least that’s one of the stories that’s told. The other popular story is that as sheep thieves, we had to leave to escape punishment (a similar story is told about why my family moved from Kentucky to Illinois: they don’t hang horse thieves in Illinois). No one really knows why my family immigrated since it happened so long ago. That story was lost to the erosion of time. 

I know that the family first came to Virginia before moving to Kentucky and finally Illinois. Living in the south during the time of slavery might lead some to fear that there are slave owners in their past. Not my family. I don’t think we’ve ever had a pot to piss in; I doubt they ever owned enough of anything to warrent owning a slave. I’m not entirely sure my family didn’t come over as indentured servants themselves.

On the other side, my mother’s side of the family (at least her dad’s side) hasn’t been in this country that long in comparison. Somehow a man from Scotland and a woman from Germany immigrated from their respective countries, met up in Ohio, got hitched, started a family, and eventually ended up in Illinois. Five generations later, here I am. It’s kind of wild to think that I’m not that far removed from the mother countries.

I’m not sure why that side of the family came to this country either. I’m guessing it was in search of a better life. That was the trend back in those days. I’m guessing they found one, though why anyone thought Central Illinois would be a good idea, I don’t know. It must have been a more happening place back then.

Scottish and German. That’s me. It’s not as sexy as being Irish, but I’m still proud of it.

It’s also a great excuse for my questionable taste in fashion. I mean, come on. Lederhosen and kilts.

I never had a chance.

Writing–Writing With a Day Job 2: The Revenge

~ Kiki Writes ~ 1 Comment

My initial enthusiasm for the challenge of writing with a day job, essentially working two jobs, lasted all of a few days.  Everything went downhill pretty quickly after that.

In short, February was a disaster.

I didn’t edit one chapter of The World Saving Series. I had a list of short stories that needed work.  After struggling with rewrites on “The Guinea Pig” for a week in order to meet a deadline, I gave up when I finally realized that story just wasn’t going to do what I needed it to do. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t spent the week before that struggling with rewrites on another story that I ended up not rewriting.  Three short stories that I needed to review/revise got pushed into March, therefore really pushing the deadlines on those pieces.

February led me to question whether or not I really was committed to being a writer. With some of the urgency gone now that I have stable income, I was left to wonder if I was just writing for the money and now that I’m getting the money, would I eventually stop writing.

Maybe it’s just me wanting to believe the best in myself (which is pretty unlikely), but I don’t think that’s the case.

After all, I started this crusade in earnest when I was still working at my last job. I wrote for about six months while working part-time in retail with little trouble. The difference was the situation. Then I was working part-time and had only a few short stories that I was writing and revising. Now I’m working full time and I have probably a dozen short stories in the mix and at least three novels in various stages (that haven’t been lost to the two computer crashes that happened a year apart). The motive and goal is still the same: to establish a successful writing career. The situation is the only thing that’s changed.

I think it’s going to take some trial and error to find out what the right work load is now that I’m working full time. I’m also going to have to work smarter. I can’t spend so much time battling one story with no payoff. And I’m going to have to accept that I’m going to be tired sometimes after a long day in the cube and just get my writing done anyway. A little progress is better than no progress and I need all the progress I can get.

But the key is going to be the workload. I can’t keep scheduling my months like I’m not spending forty hours a week doing something else.

I need to meet myself half-way.

Stories By The Numbers

Submitted: 3 (just sent out “Another Deadly Weapon”; “Summer Rot” and “Such a Pretty Face” are still out)
Ready: 4 (“Husband and Wife”, “Elevator”, “Bigger Than a Squirrel”, and now “Erin Go Bragh”)
Rejected: 1 (“Spillway”)

Voice of an Angel; Motives of a Big Girl

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

This past week the Chicago Cubs have been accepting applications for PA announcer. It was an open audition of sorts, as they invited fans to submit vidoes of themeselves reciting three scripts in an attempt to maybe, possibly, perhaps win a Cubs fan’s dream job.

I’m one of the many that applied.

If you’re anything like my roommate, then you’re first thought is probably, “But you already have a job!”

To you I say, you’ve got keen powers of observation. I do have a job. And I don’t see what that has to do with anything.

The reason why I’m doing this doesn’t have anything to do with getting a new job, though I wouldn’t turn it down if they offered it to me. It’s the idea behind the absolutely remote chance that I’d even make it on the finalist list, let alone get the gig, that made me do it.

Think about it.

If by some miracle of miracles I got the job, my life would be turned upside down. There’d be a mad scramble for me to quit my old job, find a place to live in Chicago, find a car that could actually make it to Chicago, move, get settled, get to know my new surroundings, and get set in my new gig. It would be crazy. It’s a big move. It’s a bold move.

It might be just be the move I need to make.

Most people do this sort of thing when they’re young, usually college. They move out and find out what it’s like to be on their own. They establish their own security and their own place in the world.

For too long I’ve relied on the security of someone else and for the past couple of years, it hasn’t been so secure. I’m long overdue to leave the nest and I know it. It worked out well enough when I was younger. I got to do things that I wouldn’t have been able to do had I had all of the typical grown-up bills to pay.

Now it’s time to take that last grown-up step. It’s a hard one considering I never wanted to grow up in the first place and paying for things like rent offends my penny-pinching sensibilities. Not to mention it’s a scarier prospect because now I’m actually old enough to know better. When you’re 18 or 20, you don’t think about failing. When you’re 30 bonus year like me, it’s called risk assessment. Failure is a real thing. At my age, you can’t go home again.

I’m using this as a tentative baby step to get used to the idea of turning my world upside down and shaking things up. This is the springboard to get me used to the idea, to make it exciting and challenging and thrilling like it should be, instead of overwhelming and scary and foreboding like I want to make it (and kind of have been making it for the past couple of years).

I’m better with change if I can ease myself into it. Now the scenario I described about getting the PA job wouldn’t be easing into it. But thinking about what I’d have to do to make that work is. It’s giving my brain the heads up. It’s telling myself that it’s time to switch gears. It’s time to get out of this complacent rut I’ve been in for far too long and start working towards something new. By the time I’m in the position financially to make that happen comfortably, I’ll be in the position mentally and emotionally to make it happen comfortably, too.

I’m all about my own comfort. That’s part of the reason why I’m still here and not…out there.

I know it makes me sound like a bit of wimp wanting to take this time to get used to the idea of doing something I should have done a long time ago, but I do believe we discussed that I’m cursed as a late bloomer. I also wasn’t exactly well prepared to make that transition to adulthood. So, yeah, I’m doing it on my own terms and at my own pace.

And if in the process of doing things my way I happen to score a gig with the Cubs and do end up turning my life upside down a lot sooner and faster than I planned, well, that’s okay, too.

Maybe I never wanted to grow up, but I did learn how to catch what life throws at me.

Music: Sunny Girlfriend by The Monkees

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I am a huge fan of The Monkees, show and music. It’s been announced that three of the four (as usual) will be going out on tour once again for the 45th anniversary.

To celebrate, how about a song that isn’t “Last Train to Clarksville”, “I’m a Believer”, “Daydream Believer”, or “Pleasant Valley Sunday” (not that they aren’t great; just looking for something a little less played).

Writing–March Projects

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

February was a disaster in terms of productivity, but I’ll get to that let down next week. Instead, let’s look at what I can be expected to do (and hopefully, actually get done) this month.

I really need to get back to revising The World (Saving) Series. It needs to go back to being top priority. Bottom line, I’m spending my Ides with Stanley.

I need to review/revise a few stories, two of which are a hold over from last month. I need to review “Another Deadly Weapon” and “Erin Go Bragh”. I keep going back and forth on changing the ending of “Another Deadly Weapon”, but I think I’m going to leave it for one last submission. “Play Chicken” needs to be revised. I think I’ve left it alone long enough to gain some perspective on how to achieve the effect and pacing it needs.

I should also probably start work on another freebie story for the blog, but I’ve got some time so that’s pretty low on the priority list for the month.

Here’s to hoping this workload is more compatible with my day job than the last.

Stories By The Numbers

Submitted: 3(Sent out “Summer Rot”; “Spillway” and “Such a Pretty Face”are still out)
Ready: 3
Rejections: 1 (“Soul Sister”)