Bad, bad, bad…

…that’s what I’ve been calling myself the past couple of days.

I’ve been neglecting this blog something terrible, and even though every day I tell myself I need to post something, anything, I can’t seem to think of anything to write. Mr. Awesome Sauce keeps telling me that my readers/followers don’t care whether I’m writing about the process of writing, something silly one of the cats did, or even what I had for breakfast this morning (Egg, sausage and cheese Lean Pockets for anyone who’s curious). He insists that it doesn’t matter what I write about , as long as I write something. I know he’s right, but sometimes I want to tell him that that’s easier said than done.

Other times I kinda want to smack him in his pretty little face. It’s very unfair when he uses logic against me, it’s such an unfair advantage!

So here I am just writing about whatever pops into my mind…Ooh! I got some new fish over the weekend. We have a 29 gallon tank set up in the living room which we’ve had for going on two years now that has lots of lovely, pretty fish including our golden bristlenose plecostamus, Big Fat George. About a year after we set up that tank I got the insane idea that I wanted to get a 60-70 gallon tank and set it up as a fully planted tank. Always the voice of reason, Mr. Awesome Sauce suggested that we start out a little smaller. Reluctantly I agreed, and we picked up a cheap 10 gallon at our local Petsmart and I tried my hand at managing a planted tank.

I’m so glad we started small. Planted tanks are…different. Not hard per say, but definitely not as easy as a tank decorated with plastic plants. It didn’t take long for my enthusiasm to wane, and while my plants have been doing well since setting up the tank, it’s pretty much just been sitting there for the past year. Well, it seemed like fate finally decided to step in and do something about my fishless tank over the weekend.

While cleaning our big tank I managed to break the glass top in half, (d’oh!) resulting in an emergency trip to Petsmart to get a replacement. While there I just happened to take a gander at the fish and saw that they had finally started carrying the golden plecos like George. Unlike their brown and black counterparts, these little guys stay small, getting no bigger than 6 inches, which is the perfect size for the two tanks we have. They also had neon tetras on sale, so I snagged a few of those too.

Here are some slightly blurry, cell phone pictures of the tank…

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This is Oberyn, our little pleco. I decided to name him after Oberyn Martell, from Game of Thrones.

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And here you can kinda make out a few of the neon tetras, who I’ve named the Sand Sisters after Oberyn’s daughters.

Hopefully the fish will all have longer, happier lives than any of the characters from GoT!

 

Tick Tock Tick Tock

Since handing off my copies of my manuscript for Hunted to my beta readers yesterday I feel as though every passing minute has pounded a beat on the back of my skull in a maddening, never ending tattoo. The following is a recount of some of the thoughts that have meandered their way through my head. Some  may or may not be 100% accurate.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

It’s only been 20 minutes since I hit send. How is that even possible? It feels like a lifetime has passed.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Okay, it’s been over 12 hours now, why hasn’t anyone written back? Why haven’t I’ve been flooded with congratulations for penning the next bestseller?

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

I think I’m starting to develop a twitch in my right eye. I’m sure it’s nothing, but my cubicle neighbor keeps looking at me weird.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Maybe their email isn’t working. I’ll send them the manuscript again, just to be sure. And copy myself on it to make sure email is working.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Hmm. Email seems to be working fine, so why no reply?

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Okay, it’s been 13 hours since I sent them finished masterpiece. WTF?! Are they just doing this to spite me? They must be jealous of my genius. I didn’t think about how reading some an amazing piece of work might make them feel insignificant. Hope none of them feel suicidal. That must be it. They must all be too busy crying over their own failures to write back. Should send them all some tissues.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

15 hours! That should be ample time for them to come to terms with their own shortcomings and get to work on reading my novel. Why is no one responding? Why aren’t they all flocking around me, cheering my name? They should be lining up begging for my autograph and some small nugget of wisdom. How dare they besmirch me, their queen, their goddess of awesome?! Puny humans, I shall smite them. I shall strike them down and make them rue the day they ever sought to undermine my awesomeness. BEHOLD PUNY HUMANS, GAZE UPON THE FACE OF AWESOME AND QUIVER IN FEAR FOR I AM YOUR GOD!!

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Hello shiny happy people. A.J. here… hope I didn’t worry any of you with my little outburst. I feel much better now. Mr. Awesome Sauce found me some little blue pills and I feel so much better. A little sleepy. I think I’m just going to go lie down for a bit…

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Tick tock, tick, tock…

Tick tock…

Tick…

Tock…

Sometimes I feel like I’m part of a 12 step program

I’m totally ripping off Blondiewritemore, though if I’m admitting it does it still count as out right laziness/copying?

Anyway, she posted a genius article by Chuck Wendig and I just had to share it. Anyone who has ever written, or tried to write, a novel has experienced at least a dozen of the 25 steps mentioned in Chuck’s Varied Emotional Stages Of Writing A Book. I frequently flip-flop back and forth between numbers 1 and 2. I also suffer from # 3 and # 15 on a fairly regular basis. In fact Mr. Awesome Sauce refuses to let me buy this t-shirt because he says it would simply compound my existing near-constant attitude of “Meh.” Damn him.

Still, I think that his list is missing a stage that may very well be the most important one of all. The fact that is the one I’m currently experiencing might make me a wee bit biased, but meh. Whatevs.

So here is my addition to his list:

#26 – HOLY SHIT PEOPLE HAVE TO READ THIS

The pants-shitting terror you experience when you realize that you have to actually let other people read the masterpiece/steaming pile of dog crap that you have spent weeks/months/years slaving over, alternatively convinced that you are the next Stephen King or that you should fling yourself off of the nearest cliff and spare the world your insufferable existence.

Which stage(s) do you suffer from during your writing journey?