The 'THIS IS BULLSH** Speech

Who else could possibly surpass writers when it comes to procrastination?

No one, that's who. Although, I must admit I'm far too tired to think very hard on the subject. In fact, I'm pretty freaking tired in general. And you know what's making me tired today? (No, not chocolate.) The overwhelming reality of what I should have accomplished in the last few weeks, but I won't get into that. You're welcome.

What am I going to do about it? Whine? Rant? No again. You're welcome again.

Instead, I'm going to plan out my writing time for the next week, sparing you the details of course, and I'm going to defend it like the freaking Alamo.

There. I feel better. A week from now, I won't be tired of my own failures. I'll be pumped to kick my own arse yet again the following week.

I so swear.

The CURE for PROFESSIONAL JEALOUSY

Sick of the jealous feeling, I began looking for a cure and I think I've got it. And I think it worked!

Late last night I learned of my friend's major, debut, three-book, YA, sold-at-auction between four houses, enough to retire from her day job, pub-house with the BEST covers DEAL. Her name is CJ Redwine.

I was so thrilled she sold, since she was a Golden Heart Finalist in 2008 and I believe it was not the first book her agent tried to sell for her. It was just her turn, you know? And she really is a mad genius.

I really expected the envy-riverbanks to overflow, but they didn't.

I woke up this morning and realized why I'm okay.
And no, it's not the Rapture/Fail thing.

For the past couple of days, I've been paying a little more attention to what's happening around me. Scary, uncharacteristic of me, I know. But I pushed back all thoughts of other writers, the fame and fortune thing, and just asked myself what my personal definition of success would be. How much fame and fortune could I handle without it having an adverse affect on the life I want with my family. How much would huge success take me away from them?

Let me admit, right here and now, that I totally want the fame and fortune thing--that hasn't changed. But no matter how fun it might be to live in the shoes of Stephanie Meyer or the Beautiful Creatures Chicks, I really don't want to mess up my family or trade them in for a smaller more manageable crowd. (We are now ten, with two daughter in laws on the way.) I can't just pack them in a Winnebago and drag them around with me.

So I'm listing my goals, in order, in a very 'one step at a time' 'totally against my nature' way. I'm already able to write full time. I've got an agent. Now I've got to get a deal too. Will it be a CJ Redwine deal? No. But I think I'm going to be so happy to be sold, it won't matter. For once in my life, I'll be grateful instead of greedy.

At least, that's the plan.
What's your plan?

PROFESSIONAL JEALOUSY

The great James Dashner said recently, at the LTUE conference, that jealousy is a great motivator in this business.

I wonder who was the focus of his jealously when he wrote Maze Runner. I do know that envy of JD has poked and prodded me until I'm black and blue. And again, today, I was swept away by a monsterous wave of the stuff when I heard good news for another local writer.

Am I happy for this writer? Yes. I'm exstatic, really. And is there enough room on the NYTBSA for us both? Of course. This writer is not my competition.

What do I do about my jealousy?

I RANT AND RAVE AT MY FAMILY UNTIL THEY ARE HAPPY TO HAVE ME LOCK MYSELF IN MY OFFICE to pound out my frustration on the keyboard. They're not so interested that I succeed as a writer as they are to see me remove my moody self from their peaceful existences--as long as I come out in time to make dinner.

And I'll tell you what. I may come out for only that for a while. This bug up my butt is planning on a full-body possession and it's got a good head start. I may not come out until the NBT-next big thing-is finished!

So, share with the class. How do you handle your professional jealousy? Don't even pretend you aren't affected by it. There is no lying permitted here.

Confess!

Writaholic Paradise

Say you're Hemmingway.
Money. Fame. Published Author.
Bully. Dictator. King or Queen of all you survey.

Got it?
Whatcha gonna do with it? Make your family keep their traps shut until noon so you can write like Earnest did?

My fantasy? A huge field of green. A hut in the center. One road through the field down which my family comes thrice a day to bring me food, cheer, and their good tidings. A couple of kisses for the kids, a grope from the hubster, and the dustless departure of a group of humans whose happiness I made possible.

Then I take a dose of chocolate, a sip of an icy beverage in which the ice has not dared to sweat, let alone melt. I turn back to my desk to find my creation waiting patiently, prepared to jump back into the sky and take wing as soon as our eyes meet.

Oh, the power and joy in my arm when it pounces from me, into space! Into the world! And it will never be nothing again!

This.
This is what my distractions steal from me.

And you? Whatcha got hiding in that back corner of your mind? Make a wish...or three. We'll all keep your secret.

Secret Abbreviation!

On Twitter, when I think I've tweeted something that makes me laugh aloud, I follow with OMHIF. Only YOU will know it means OH MY HELL I'M FUNNY.

See? Now you have to follow me on Twitter so you can watch for it. @LesliMuirLytle

You can't help yourself, can you? You may even start your Twitter account just so you can follow me. Trust me, it's easy, and I'm worth it. Especailly if there is a chance I look like this========>

OMHIF!