Coffee, Zombies and Apocalypses

It must have been the gradual cooling of my heated mattress pad that woke me up. The power was out. Granted, it was 7:45 AM and I should have been up anyway, but still. How rude. All right, North Korea, you’re really starting to piss me off. Actually, my first thought was, Am I going to have to take my zombie-face to Starbucks? Panic set in. When you don’t know where your next cup of coffee is going to come from—if at all—things can get hairy pretty fast. I texted my friends who live in The Sac with me. (This is the name all of us have given to our cul-de-sac). One was about to break out the camp stove to brew some beans. I was ready to trek over in my bunny slippers, cup in hand, when bleep! Power returned. Crisis averted. Whew! Because any major apocalypse before my morning coffee is just plain mean.

Perhaps deep down, I was thinking about The Dog Stars, that I just finished for book club. It’s only the second post-apocalyptic novel I’ve read, and incidentally, they both are set in Northern Colorado. A little advice . . . when first diving into reading about this subject matter, you may not want to start out with books that take place where you live. The first, was Brian Kaufman’s Dead Beyond the Fence: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse. Not a good apocalypse to be around for, not that it’s even possible to put a positive spin on an apocalypse.

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So, it sounds like most of the gals in my book club really loved The Dog Stars. We’re meeting next week to discuss it. I have to say, I didn’t love it, but I certainly didn’t hate it either. Overall, however, it was good and very well done.  What did you think of the book? And what other post-apocalyptic (I’m getting real good at spelling that correctly the first time!) books do you recommend? (preferably ones set outside of Colorado)?

First Published Essay . . . well, in a very long time

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So it’s been years since I queried magazine editors. I’ve always enjoyed writing personal essays in particular, and as a writer, there are things that happen in life that prompt me to say, “Oh, I need to write about this.” I’m such my father’s daughter. My late father’s essays are legendary, as were his letters to the editor. One of my favorites is a letter he wrote in 1991 to the traffic engineer of our city. This is just an excerpt of the two-page letter:

“Dear Sir,

Every morning at five-thirty I leave for work via West Mulberry near Overland Trail, and continue on Mulberry to nearly I-25. At the early hour the traffic signals are still on their “nightly mode.” It’s their modus operandi that has has finally driven me to make this written appeal for more humane treatment from your office. Traveling east on Mulberry, the first light is at Taft Hill Rd., and as I arrive at the crosswalk, the light immediately begins to change. It works beautifully . . . unless there is another motorist more than a quarter block behind me. He or she would hardly see any beauty in the way the light turns red in three or four seconds. This is one of those “you had to be there lights.” Now, that trailing motorist will have to wait for some specified “recycle” time before the light will change again.  .  .

. . . The next three signals, at Loomis, Howes and Mason, appear to be set on a timer, stopping vehicles on Mulberry at prescribed intervals. At this hour there is NEVER (99.9%) any cross-traffic at any of these intersections, prompting some motorists to actually consider committing a misdemeanor. Oh, yes! And, if one’s timing is particularly unfortunate, the result could be a rapid erosion of an otherwise cheery disposition.”

A couple of days later my father received a phone call from the chief traffic engineer who said, “I just wanted to let you know I got your letter and really enjoyed it!” Enjoyed it?! was my dad’s reaction. Enjoyed it?! The traffic lights remained on the same idiotic timing (and do so to this day). Maybe I have his same angst-y traffic genes, but I often find myself mentally composing a letter to the traffic engineers about the nonsensical and mind-numbing system our traffic lights seem to be on, as I sit at one of those idiotically-timed lights. See? I just got myself going . . .

So, I guess it came as no surprise to me that a car-related situation prompted me to immediately take notes for an essay. Last fall, I had a moment where I went environmentally militant on a complete stranger; a parent at my son’s school, to be exact. Her daily 45-minutes of idling in the school’s pickup lane could no longer go ignored. Her response surprised me. So anyway . . . long story short, if you feel so inclined, you can read about my experience at Whole Life Times. Don’t worry, it’s only a page. Scroll to page 42—the very last page called BackWords. This concludes my shameless self promotion. Thank you.

Man-Eating Fish and Crime

What do these two things have in common? They’re combined into a short story, part Stephen King weirdness, part crime noir by author, Jason Brick, (PG-writing, family-friendly-writer, etc) writing under the pen name of Jake F. Simons (bad-ass R-rated, foul-mouthed writer).

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Panamanian Stompers is an entertaining and funny short read that’ll only cost you .99 . . . such a deal.

[The bar] squatted there in a nasty neighborhood like a freshly picked scab on an acne-strewn face, between a bare dirt parking lot and a stinking stretch of industrial shoreline.

If that doesn’t pique your interest, maybe this will . . .

The sound came again, much closer than before. Fernie’s gut rolled. He flinched, expecting the next sound to be . . .

Learn more about Jason and his writing on his blog, BrickCommaJason.

“So, how’s that workin’ for ya?”

Ah . . . the immortal words of Dr. Phil. I can hear his voice in my head asking me about my latest “Get-Writing-Quick” scheme that I started just over a month ago. You know, the whole Jar Idea.

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Well, I haven’t been able to utilize them the way I was hoping; too many tasks already on my plate. However, I am happy to say that I had an article accepted for publication in the April/May issue of Whole Life Times. Take that, Pinterest! Speaking of which, it’s been two days since my last Pinterest visit and I’m hoping I can stay on the wagon for a little while longer.

I have also made sure that I threw some fun into my schedule by attending a book signing by friend and fellow writer, Chuck Barrett while he and his lovely wife were visiting from Florida. Chuck’s third book, Breach of Power is scheduled for a mid-March release which I was able to pre-order (just like you can!) and picked up signed copies of his first two.

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So all in all, I haven’t been totally unproductive; I do have a writers conference to help set up after all . . . And, I’ve been receiving edits from my publisher of Folsom’s 93, so it hasn’t been all hammocks and margaritas here–I promise, Dr. Phil.

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Save the Date: April 26-27 Northern Colorado Writers Conference

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I am so excited for this year’s NCW Writers Conference. We’ve been pretty much planning this conference since last summer—it’s gonna be good! (And not just because actor, author, and director, Andrew McCarthy is going to be our keynote speaker) . . . it doesn’t hurt though, does it? The theme, The Art of Writing, is definitely up  my alley and myself and the rest of the Conference Creative Team are hard at work. . . We’ve decoupaged canvases with book pages and have picked famous artists to inspire us. It may not look like much now, but I’m going for an Alphonse Mucha thing here . . .

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I’ll unveil this sure-to-be-a-masterpiece 😉 when it’s finished. Or burn it. We’ll see. Anyway, this conference (like the previous ones) are going to be one hell of a good time and I encourage all you writers to register and head on out to Fort Collins, CO April 26-27. Did I mention you’ll receive a copy of Andrew’s book, Longest Way Home? And get an opportunity to have him sign it? Well, you will. Looking forward to seeing you!

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Oh, and while I’m at it, I want to remind folks about the Top of the Mountain Book Award that we will be giving out at the conference. You do not have to attend the conference to win, but it’s a great opportunity to swagger your bad-ass writer self on stage and be recognized for your amazing writing talent in front of your peers, agents, and editors. Check out the link above for contest rules. Deadline is March 1. Good luck!

Gladys the Badass

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At 3 a.m. yesterday morning, we woke up to some guy trying to get into our garage. He wasn’t quiet about it either. Initially, we thought it could be raccoon or other furry “friends.” My husband has a storied history of battling squirrels who continually taunt him outside his home office window. In fact, he watches a lot from his office window, earning him the moniker from our neighbor friends, of “Gladys” (as in Gladys Kravitz, the see-all neighbor from the t.v. show, Bewitched). Of course, it’s all in fun. This, however, was not fun. Our Chevy pickup has been broken into twice before (nothing inside to take), but the assailants were pretty stealthy about it. Not this one. So my quiet and reserved computer engineer husband, had had enough. Gladys was pissed off. I couldn’t resist writing a little ditty about what happened next:  (Poetry’s not my forte, so I apologize if the alliteration is off–and for the two cuss words. Sorry, Mom).

Rudely awakened from a peaceful slumber,

not a minute passed the witching hour.

A bang, a crash . . . (man, I hope we’re not outnumbered).

Hit the lights, turn up the power.

Hey! Don’t we have a dog?

Where’s the snarl? Where’s the growl?

Curled upon his pillow, he’s sleeping like a log.

Wake up! There’s something on the prowl!

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A peek outside shows someone’s there,

sneaking, lurking, in our truck.

Hurry! Dress and cover up your underwear!

Quickly clad, out the door, hey . . . what the fuck?!

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This mild-mannered man of mine,

who’s only battled flickers and squirrels,

ready now for car thieve swine.

Full of gumption and drive, sans deferral.

He sprang into action and just missed a fist.

Then swiftly grabbed him by his coat,

down he went, the ground he kissed.

But there was no time to cheer or gloat.

 .

During a scuffle of words and punches,

he saw the man was drunk or high,

most-likely looking for cash a’ bunches,

But instead ticked off this shy, computer guy.

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The suspect broke loose and ran amok,

cussing and stumbling down the street.

Run, run you stupid schmuck,

Here come the city’s top elite.

Uniforms canvased, searched, and swept,

but found no visible trace.

He sneaked, slinked and away he crept,

Forcing the cops, to give up the chase.

 .

We returned to the house all pumped and wound up,

greeted by Fido, now alert and awake.

Well, you’re no help, you oblivious pup.

You can kiss good-bye that T-bone steak.

 .

Who knew this nerd of computers and code,

could unleash such fists of fury.

Unafraid, he seemed in action mode,

But now admits, it’s kinda blurry.

 .

Unaccustomed to vigilante work,

his muscles and joints felt angry and sore.

But he has no regrets of going berserk;

message sent: don’t fuck with Mr. Moore.

 .

Needless to say, it took a while for our heart rates to normalize and in retrospect, it may not have been the smartest thing to do. The man could have had a weapon. We were lucky. My husband said that he just reacted, figuring that after 38 years of never fighting, it was time for a throw down . . . and he hoped the squirrels were watching.

I’ve Been Jarred

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It’s obvious by my last blog post that I’ve had some trouble being productive. My lack of productivity really stems from the fact that I’m a bit out of sorts (a nice way of saying disorganized). This realization is particularly disheartening for me because I LOVE organizing things. My label maker and I are like this:

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And the idea of going to The Container Store gets me hot and bothered (and I swear I hear heavenly trumpets and cherub chatter when I walk into one). Sadly though, this unnatural desire to organize and label my life, has not translated to the projects and tasks portion of my life. Sometimes I stare at the list on my white board until I’m blue in the face, unable to decide what I need to work on, and more often than not, I’m distracted by chores and other “house stuff” that needs my attention. I then turn to Pinterest for consolation and there goes my afternoon.

So my dear friend Kerrie, who is the director of the Northern Colorado Writers (it helps by the way, to have friends in the writing community to keep you going–glom onto those people) gave me the idea of sorting these tasks/projects into different jars. She too, is going to try this tactic. The idea is to write down what needs to be done on separate pieces of paper and devote time each day to “Jar Tasks.” Whether it’s 30 minutes or two hours, pick something from a jar and do what it says! If you have a couple of hours, pick one thing from each jar—it’s up to you.

My 4 jars: Illustrating, Writing, Home and Fun/Reward. Here’s a little sampling of my tasks . . .

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Now, I quickly learned that there are rules to this game. Yes, I know, no one likes rules, but if you want this to work, you have to play by the rules. The beautiful thing is you can make up your own, but might I make a few suggestions:

1.) Take care of projects that have a deadline first. These are things that have to be done a.s.a.p. As part of the Creative Team for the NCW Writers Conference in April, I have several things that need to be done, so I have to make sure I devote time each day or each week to those projects. Other things include working out, practicing guitar, and meditating. Be sure to schedule those things before anything else.

2.) Don’t put things in the jars that you’re not prepared to work on that day, week, or month. If you need to purchase items for a certain task, make sure you have those things ready to go should you pull that card out of the jar. If you don’t think you’ll be able to do that task the second you pull it from the jar, don’t add it. Stick to the things you are prepared to work on.

3.) You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit. Most parents are familiar with this saying . . . and it goes for adults too! If you get “clean toilets” then by George, you’re cleaning toilets. You can bitch and moan, but limit it to a minute and just get ‘er done.

4.) If it’s a reoccurring task, throw it back in the jar. No need to write ten of “write a blog post.” Merely toss it back in when the need for another blog post arises.

See? That’s not too bad, right? I do find it rather sad that I seem to have more items in my ‘Home” jar than the others, but I have a feeling that a trip to The Container Store will make it all better. Kerrie and I vowed to keep this up until the end of January, so wish me luck. I’d also love to hear some of your ideas and if you’d tried a similar method. Did it work? Or did you find it mildly satisfying to smash the jars against the wall?

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I said whhhaaat?!

Back in October, I made this ridiculous statement regarding a new project:

“Since I’ve already started the book, I’m obviously not participating in NaNoWriMo, but I’m going to certainly write like I am. My goal is to reach the halfway mark by Christmas.

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Clearly, I was still on the writer’s retreat high when I wrote that. The really sad and disgusting part is that I’ve only written about another 1000 words . . . at the most. 

So what have I been doing that’s so important that I couldn’t meet my goal? Well . . .take a look:

Barely surviving a climb out of a canyon . . .

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Drinking wine . . .

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 Getting caught in a tornado . . .

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Drinking something else . . .

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Finding out what happens when you accidentally leave taper candles in a sunny window . . .

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Finding out what happens when you leave for a week visiting family . . .

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and drinking more wine . . .

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As you can see, I’ve obviously been too busy to write. With all of these adventures, including a battle with a Shake Weight-riding, Christmas light-chewing squirrel on our front porch . . .

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 . . . you’d think I’d have at least something to write about.