“Are You Really Writing Books?”

June 24, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

A friend of mine posted that on a link to my Amazon Author’s Page that I posted on Facebook, my meager attempt to try to drum up a little business.

People who frequent my blog on Wednesdays or happen to catch the appropriate Tweet on my Twitter feed might think this is a stupid question. But, actually, it’s valid.

Yes, I am writing books. I’m also writing short stories and novellas and blog posts and journal entries and non-fiction blobs and episode summaries of a TV show that doesn’t exist. Some of these will be published by a real publisher, some will be self-published, and some will never see the light of day. It’s a thing that’s happening whether I talk about it or not. Like my exercise routine or specific food intake. Even if I don’t feel compelled to tell people about it, it’s still happening.

Now, I talk a bit about my writing on the Internet, specifically on Wednesdays. I mention it on occasion on my Twitter. I post about my stories getting accepted and rejected and my self-publishing ventures in between. But I don’t talk about these things much off the ‘net.

Why?

Well, because.

Because I don’t want to answer all of the questions that inevitably come up after I mention that I’m a writer. “What do you write?” is always the lead-off and then it goes from there, down the rabbit hole of awkwardness because, see, I don’t make a living off of my writing (yet) and I’m not at all a best-seller (yet) and I’m definitely not famous (I’m cool with that). You’re not going to find my stuff on the shelves (yet). And the conversation sort of fizzles and dies because, well, how can I possibly be a REAL writer if I’m not making a living off of it?

The lead-off question has another pitfall. I answer that question honestly by saying, “Horror fiction mostly”, which leads people to say, “Oh, like Stephen King?”

I adore Stephen King. We all know that. But the answer is no, not like Stephen King. Stephen King is an educated, literate, well-read man who can craft eloquent sentences and amazing imagery despite his sometimes gruesome subject matter.

I, on the other hand, am a three-time college dropout, who doesn’t read anything she’s supposed to and definitely not as much as she’s supposed to, and only by virtue of chance can string together a few words to form coherent sentences that sometimes illustrate her bizarre and sometimes horrific imagination.

I am nothing like Stephen King and neither is what I write. Our genre is the only thing that connects us.

The other reason I don’t talk about my writing is simply because I get the feeling no one is interested. It’s not like a regular job. It’s hard for other people to relate to what I do. And since I don’t like to talk much about works-in-progress, the conversation is pretty short if steered in that direction. As for talking about the works I’ve done, well, horror isn’t everybody’s bag. It isn’t most people’s bag. And if they don’t like to read it, then they don’t like to talk about it.

I guess I’ve become accustomed to not discussing my writing life outside of the Internet. Which is a problem when it comes to me trying to get people to read my work, but the funny thing is, I don’t look past the Internet for readers either. In fact, when it comes to my writing life, it only seems to exist online.

Maybe I should consider branching out.

Writing–Format This

June 19, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

In my quest to accomplish my goals for this month, I need to publish Gone Missing and Night of the Nothing Man on Amazon.

My biggest obstacle to this is formatting the stories to be published on Amazon.

It’s my least favorite chore when it comes to self-publishing. I can do it, but I don’t like to do it. The act of following the directions so I can properly format my manuscript awakens some sort of perfectionist Kraken in me that makes my life difficult. I’m not saying that I shouldn’t strive to do my best; but that bit of perfectionist in me denies that I’m capable of anything close to best. So when the Perfection-Kraken comes out, the task becomes about six times harder than it needs to be.

And then there’s that tendency I have from childhood that demands I get everything right the first time. I need to be able to know it and do it immediately. The fact that I’ve done this before (even if it was a few years ago) amps up that demand. I shouldn’t have any trouble with this because I’ve done it before and once was enough. For whatever reason, this line of thinking also leads me to believe that there are no do-overs. That it is essential that I get it right the first time because I won’t be allowed to fix anything, which isn’t true.

Finally, there’s my paranoia that if I do mess something up, I won’t be able to fix it and it will break the delicate balance of the Universe and the blood rain will be all my fault.

Okay, what I’m getting at is that just knowing that I have to format a manuscript for self-publishing sets my anxiety choo-choo in motion, pulling cars and cars full of procrastination.

It’s only until I make myself do it that the anxiety abates and by the time I’m finished, I’m kicking myself for not getting to work on it sooner.

It was worse this time around because all I had to do was some minor changes and do a little battle with Night of the Nothing Man‘s table of contents. All told it took me about an hour, maybe an hour and half to get both of them done and uploaded.

Yep. Two weeks of anxiety and procrastination for less than two hours work.

At least they’re done now.

Gone Missing

Night of the Nothing Man

I Was That Weird Kid: Food Edition

June 17, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Even though I don’t get summer vacation anymore, summer still makes me think of being a kid. And when I think of being a kid, I think of how weird I was as a kid.

All kids are weird by nature because society has yet to really enforce all the rules of “normal” on them, but even for a kid I was weird because I didn’t like normal kid things, food in particular. Not a big deal, really, but my mother ran a daycare while I was growing up. Feeding eight kids was simple for her: you ate what you got and if you didn’t eat it, I’m terribly sorry for your misfortune. Wait it out until snack time. The thing is, while Mom aimed to feed us all healthy lunches, she did feed us the typical kid foods. And the trouble with that was I didn’t like a lot of them.

I hit my limit on hot dogs really young. I remember eating them as a kid, but I was still early on in grade school when I could no longer stomach them (to this day I can only eat a hot dog if it’s a corn dog for some weird reason). Same thing happened with bologna.

The kid’s drink staple of summer is Kool-Aid. I didn’t like Kool-Aid. There was only one flavor that I’d drink (it was called Rainbow Punch and just saying the name conjures up memories of the taste of it) and when they discontinued it that was the end of my Kool-Aid run. My mother could never find another flavor that I’d drink.

I think we’ve chronicled my hatred of Jell-O enough, but I’ll say it once again. I hated Jell-O as a kid just as I hate it now.

How about Lucky Charms? Kids love colored marshmallows in their cereal! I don’t like marshmallows. My mother likes to remind me that when I was three, she found me picking all of the marshmallows out of my bowl so I could eat the cereal without accidentally ingesting one.

Push-pops? No. Ice pops? No. Cream pops? No.

I realize this makes me sound like a picky eater, but in fact, I was one of the easiest kids to feed. I liked most things and I ate a lot of things that most kids wouldn’t eat, like spinach, brussel sprouts, cooked carrots, and such. And I did like a lot of kid foods like Spaghetti-O’s, fish sticks, chicken nuggets, and macaroni and cheese.

I just didn’t like THOSE foods.

Weird kid.

7 More Things About Me

May 20, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

That’s right. Couldn’t think of anything else to blog about today.

1. I name cats after TV characters. Tuvok, Peter Marie, Stella, Spot, and McGee. You could count Maude, but I didn’t name her and she wasn’t intentionally named after a character.

2. I’ve got a scar on my knee from getting run over by a kid on a bike. He was a real jerk of a neighbor boy and rode up on the grass to hit me on purpose. Nobody was happy with that, least of all me.

3. I have trouble with light sensitivity. Some people with light colored eyes have this problem and I am unfortunately one of them. I’m that weirdo wearing sunglasses while driving in the rain. Even with overcast skies, the light can still bother me, particularly while driving.

4. I have a tendency to eat my food in a particular order during a meal and I usually eat one thing at a time. At least my food can touch now. Except bread. I don’t want my bread touching anything because I don’t like soggy bread.

5. My 5th grade teacher was a health nut. She’d make us go for really long walks, including on along side a business route, and do Gilad workout videos in the classroom. It was a bit excessive and I had no hope of being the teacher’s pet because I couldn’t walk around the park fast enough.

6. I won’t drink anything that are certain shades of green or blue. It’s unnatural.

7. I grew up playing with goats. My grandparents’ neighbors had them. Goats are quite silly, very playful, can scream like humans, and have this bizarre fascination with getting up onto things. They’ll stand on a coffee can if they think it’ll give them some height. That’s why I don’t get this sudden discovery of goats. I already knew all of this stuff.

I Was Pretty Then

May 13, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ 1 Comment

A couple of weekends ago, I drove myself crazy looking for a few of pictures of me as a kid. They’re my favorites: one of me at about three, wearing my favorite pants; one of me at about 6 or 7 months old, drinking my first beer (I was the first grandchild, so they had a lot of fun with me); and one of my R2-D2 birthday cake when I was three or four.

I finally found them, but in the process, I found a couple of other pictures of me and I was struck by them.

One was of me when I was about 17. A friend of my dad’s was a photographer and agreed to do a photo shoot of my dad, my sister, and me for free so she could build up her portfolio. Dad, who isn’t big on pictures and usually looks like he’s about thirty seconds away from a homicidal rampage in them because he doesn’t smile, agreed because it meant he could give copies to Grandma and get her off his back about new pictures of us.

I remember that day because I felt stupid getting my picture taken in a bunch of different spots at Weldon Springs and I got reamed by my boss at Taco Bell because for an establishment that served questionable food products, they had pretty strict dress code rules and I got busted because I forgot to take all of my earrings out before I showed up for my shift (I have my ears done three times, but I was only allowed to wear one pair of earrings because that shit matters, man).

The second picture I found was taken when I was 21. I was at a hotel in Chicago with my boyfriend at the time. I was sitting on the bed in just a t-shirt, putting on my make-up. My hair was a pink mess and I was suffering from a serious lack of sleep. My ex had grabbed my camera and snapped a picture of me before I could protest.

I remember that day pretty well, too. I was getting ready that morning to drive him to the airport so he could go home. It was the end of long a trip for him, the longest the two of us had ever spent in each other’s physical presence during our entire long-distance relationship.

Looking at those pictures, I wasn’t just struck by the memories. I was also taken with just how pretty I was.

I never thought that at the time. How could I? Back then when I looked in the mirror I saw what everyone else saw: a fat girl with massive breasts and too-wide hips and too-broad shoulders. I was the opposite of what pretty was. Or what I was constantly being told pretty was.

Looking at those pictures and seeing it with the perfect vision of hindsight, I’m amazed that I remained oblivious that whole time. And I’m amazed that everyone else did, too. How many boys and girls missed out because my pants size was in the double digits? Holy hell! Look at that face! How did anyone manage to resist me? Well, I admit it. I helped them out a lot in that department. A little more confidence would have gone a long way back then.

I look at those pictures and I’m struck by the missed opportunity to enjoy being pretty. I’m not pretty now, mostly because of the stuff I did when I was the ages I was in those pictures. It takes too much work to be pretty now. But back then, I did it without a second thought and didn’t realize it.

Because I wasn’t pretty like everyone else, like I was supposed to be, like society wanted me to be.

Such a waste.

**I feel like I should add a disclaimer to this post. I’m NOT fishing for compliments. I’m just saying that I was too stupid back in the day to realize I was pretty then and marveling over the fact that some distance in the form of time has finally let me see that. I hated those pictures for years because I didn’t think I was pretty. I’m finally old enough to change my mind about that.**

Shut Up, Brain

April 29, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m one of those people that has trouble with ruminations. Ruminating, if you don’t know, is going over and over and over (and over) something in your head. I tend to replay stupid things I’ve done or said in mind, sometimes for hours. It keeps me from falling asleep. It keeps me from concentrating on other things that I need to be doing. It ratchets up the anxiety to the point that I think my head is going to pop off.

For example, last week I had some text message confusion with some people I work with at the clothing store. Long story short, my phone doesn’t like group messaging, reply all is a fucking crime, and I should have put that phone list in my phone when I got it. When I finally figured out what was going on and why, I felt like a total idiot.

And so, my brain set to work not only replaying that whole fiasco out, but also trying to come up with a way to explain myself should it come up in conversation during the next floorset about how I’m a moron without looking like a huge moron.

For two hours, I tortured myself with this garbage that everyone else involved likely laughed off and probably won’t even remember the next time I see them. But I don’t like being an idiot or looking like one, so I must be punished, I guess.

Finally, after driving myself crazy, I decided to try a little meditation. I do yoga daily and though I don’t usually do the meditation portion at the end of my workouts, I will do it on occasion when I’m feeling stressed or anxious, or in this case, dumb. And it worked! I did a quick meditation and immediately felt better, the anxiety and burden of stupid lifted off of my mind.

So what did my brain do?

Marvel at the fact that I was no longer thinking about it by trying to think about it again. Like someone with a sore tooth realizing the tooth is no longer sore and then poking around to see if they find any trace of that soreness left, thereby making the tooth sore again.

Yes, I’m that kind of dingbat. Or at least my brain is.

So, of course, I started thinking about it again. And then I meditated again. And then I poked around again until I started thinking about it again. And so I deleted the evidence from my phone. And I meditated again.

And then I said, “You know what? I need a blog post for Monday. Here. Let me just write about how stupid my brain can be and how stupid I can be. THAT will fix it.”

So there. Maybe now my brain will shut up about it for good.

Well…maybe a little more meditation.

Sew, Whatcha Doing?

April 22, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

My grandma attempted to teach me how to use a sewing machine when I was a kid. It was a fruitless endeavor. Between not being very interested at the time and being one of those people that gets easily frustrated when I’m not instantly adept at something, it was a learnin’ that I did not get. My sister, on the other hand, picked up the sewing machine and learned how to crochet and has always been able to cook. She can also bust a forty bottle just right in order to cut a bitch. I’ve always been jealous of my sister’s innate abilities.

Anyway, though I never learned how to work a sewing machine (I have intentions to teach myself or have my great-aunt learn me up), I did teach myself how to sew by hand. As such, I’ve actually made quite a few things. I’ve made several pillows over the years as gifts; I created a DragonCon costume; I’ve made a few stuffed animals; and I repair a lot of my clothes. I’m pretty good with hand sewing combat skills.

My latest project is turning a t-shirt into a bag. I don’t remember what gave me the idea. I’ve got a bunch of old t-shirts that I don’t wear, but I don’t want to get rid of because I think they’re neat and I just can’t bear to part with them. I don’t like waste and right now they’re just sitting in a bin under my bed. At some point, in my sifting through multiple ideas over the past few years, I came up with turning a t-shirt into a bag.

This idea has been months in the making, I’ll have you know. I picked a t-shirt that I was okay with destroying, looked at it. And then I put it away in one of my craft drawers. A few months later, I pulled it out again and looked at it. Then I put it away again. I couldn’t figure out how I wanted to make this transition and if I could make it work.

A couple of weekends ago, I finally said, “screw it”, and committed to the project. I cut off the bottom of the t-shirt, sewed that bit up and lo, the bottom of the bag was born. Since then, a bit at a time, I’ve turned the sleeves into pockets, turned strips of the excess material into a strap, and decided where to attach the strap. This past weekend I bit the bullet and attached the strap and refined the pockets and the bag is now done (aside from testing it to see how well the stitching holds up). So yeah, this project that I didn’t think I’d ever do is now done.

Sometimes, I forget that I’m capable of doing stuff like that. In addition to being one of those people that thinks they should be instantly adept at new things, I also have it in my head that stuff should be done all in one go. And some things should be. But other things don’t have to be and in fact, it’s a better approach to do a little bit at a time. The overall result is better and the process isn’t as overwhelming.

If only I could apply this sewing project approach to my life.

My Favorite Scar

April 15, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’ve got lots of scars. That’s the fun of having pale skin and not healing very well and doing stupid things.

Of all of my many scars, though, I think the one I got from a ceramic hummingbird is my favorite. First of all, it’s right across the bridge of my nose. Second of all, when I say I got it from a ceramic hummingbird, people automatically want to know the story because, dude, how do you get a scar on your nose from a ceramic hummingbird? There is no mundane way something like that happens.

So, here’s the story.

When I worked in the jewelry department at the local Wal-Mart, we had a gift wall that featured ceramic figurines, jewelry boxes, snow globes, and the like. Mother’s Day and Christmas were two of the holidays that those gifts were supposed to focus on. The trouble was that nobody wanted to be a ceramic mother figure for their mother and as a result, the gift wall looked like someone with a hoarding problem trying to be neat instead of a display.

Overstock was supposed to go on the riser above the wall. On the day in question, I was on the ladder rearranging the riser shelf to make room for yet more boxes of these ceramic nightmares, trying to figure out how to stack all of this stuff without breaking safety codes.

As I was moving some of the boxes of ceramic humming birds, I noticed too late that one side of the shelf had come out of its slot. Before I could fix it, that side of the shelf fell, sending a row of ceramic humming birds right at my face. I was unprepared for the aviary onslaught and one of the boxes hit me in the face, the corner of it busting open the bridge of my nose. I don’t know if you’ve handled much in the way of ceramics, but they can be quite weighty. Those humming birds were a lot heavier than their living counterparts. I got rocked pretty good.

Bleeding, seeing a couple of stars, I climbed down off of the ladder, applied a Kleenex and some pressure to the wound…and then helped a customer because apparently he really needed to see a pair of earrings and my need for a Band-Aid could wait.

Once I did get the Band-Aid applied, I then had the fortune of telling every one of my co-workers why I had a Band-Aid on my nose. They all thought it was hilarious. Except for one. When she pointed out how easily I could have been killed (if the bird had hit me a little bit harder, it would have knocked me out and I would have been in bad shape going unconscious at the top of a ladder), it wasn’t quite as funny anymore.

Now, though, with the scar so faded most people don’t notice it, the humor has returned.

With a story like that, though, my favorite scar still manages to get some attention.

Writing–April Projects

April 3, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m fabulous, except when I’m not.

I tend to underestimate my ability to not get stuff done and that’s kind of what happened in March. While I did get the short stories written, revised, polished, and posted, and made progress on both Sooper Sekrit Projects (which will continue this month), other things didn’t happen. This month, they need to happen.

First on the list is Night of the Nothing Man. I will get it up on Smashwords before the end of the month come Hell or high water. It’s taken more revising than I anticipated, but I’m closer to finished now. It will get done.

And once it does, I can go right back to starting the next round of revisions on The World (Saving) Series. I was supposed to start them before the end of the month last month. That didn’t happen. I’ll get Nothing Man out of the way and I’ll get back to work on that.

I’ve also got an idea for another short story anthology. That definitely won’t get done this month, but I’ve already been looking at story ideas. I think a couple of first drafts of some new stories might get written during my early mornings.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m not getting anything worthwhile done. I know that I am, but sometimes, it really doesn’t feel like it. Without that immediate gratification of feedback or a paycheck or the feeling of being DONE, it’s easy to feel like you’re just spinning your wheels when you’re really traveling miles.

Such is a writer’s life.

Hello, Real People!

March 25, 2013January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m not sure how many real people read this blog. I know a few do because I actually know them. The rest, though…I can’t be sure.

I know I get a lot of canned ham views. It’s reflected in the comments that end up in my canned ham folder. Which, by the way, I delete without really looking at, so if you leave me a comment and it never shows up on the blog, it’s a good possibility that it’s because your realness wasn’t recognized and it ended up deleted. Sorry about that.

This isn’t me complaining about my lack of page views or whatever. This is just me saying that I don’t know how many of those hits are real.

Oh, I know some of them probably are because of the search items that lead them here. I’m sure some of those people are pretty disappointed, too. I’m thinking of the ones like “Is Harris from Barney Miller gay” and “Starsky and Hutch do it” and “Jeff Samardzija girlfriend” (I wonder how many hits this entry will get from mentioning those phrases). But those looking for a recipe for pickle wraps are probably thrilled I exist.

I feel like this is also a good opportunity to point out that I don’t know what Randolph Mantooth is doing in April, I don’t know what knee brace dancing is, I have no pictures of Steve McGarrett shirtless, I don’t know what would happen if a dragon hid Easter eggs, and I’m not sure what “boobs magic revenge” is, but I’m claiming it as the name of my next band.

(Those are some of the tamer search items from the last thirty days. The people looking for porn are REALLY disappointed.)

It’s the days when I get fifty views and two of them are for the entry I posted, or I didn’t even make a post. When forty-eight of my fifty views for a day are on the “homepage/archives” then either someone is reading my life story or there’s a canned hammer in Canada working over time. That’s the only thing I can think of.

It would just be nice if I could take a head count of the real people that stop by. Like I said, I know it’s not an overwhelming number and I’m not crying for more. I appreciate the ones that I have. And this isn’t a demand for comments and an appeal for lurkers to stop lurking. I can totally relate to not feeling the urge to wave and the joy of reading without the pressure of speaking. I’d just like my numbers to tell me who the real people are and when they stop by.

So, hello, real people! Thanks for reading!