Down “Write” Funny – The Early Bird Gets the Word (Count)

I’ve told you about my Wednesday Brainstormer #WIPcrack crew. The one where we meet each week to inhale copious amounts of Starbucks and pound out word count.  These women are my rock.

But I have another writing group I want to tell you about. A micro-group within the group.  A group that connects each DAY at the crack of frickin’ dawn to chip out word count.

Its roots began in a bitchfest with a CP of mine. We were whining about finding time to write, enabling each other with the rote excuses of day job, family, exhaustion, etc. Basically commiserating and giving ourselves permission to prioritize everything and anything other than our writing.

Fuck it, I said. We’ve gotta do this. And we’ve gotta make the time to do it.

When? How? CP countered with. You can’t make time you don’t have.

Oh yes, we can. We’re gonna get our asses out of bed an hour early every day and write, damn it.

Are you fucking serious? CP looked as if she wanted to smack me.

Dead serious. Shut up. Do it, I say!

And so the pact was made.

And we were so eager. Hopping out of bed every morning in the easy, breezy summertime, when the morning sunshine peeked gently into our windows and sweet birds chirped their wake-up tune and the weather was warm and welcoming and stretch, yawn, we can do this. The words flowed like honey! Yay!

And then winter set in. Wisconsin winter.

When the alarm goes off like a siren in the pitch dark and you flail and smash your fist to silence it. You mummify yourself in fleece just to run through an icy house and kick-start the furnace before grabbing a cuppa to clutch and thaw your fingers out. The words don’t come so easy when the chattering of your teeth drowns out the voices in your head.

We wanted to quit. Tried to quit. Quit. Took the holidays off. But we got back at it in the new year and even initiated a new member into our early morning cult to shake things up again. We didn’t give up. We didn’t let the whining excuses win. We didn’t let the cold and dark win. Instead, we continued to check in every single morning to report word count or failure to launch. We held ourselves accountable. We wrote.

And we made progress. Because 200 words on a patookie-freezing winter morning is still 200 words more than we’d have written on an excuse and shifted priority ridden day.

Chip. Chip. Chip. Little by little. Winter will turn to spring. 200 words a day will turn into a novel. The early bird gets the word (count).

What are you willing to do to commit to your writing? What new habit could you form to reach your goals? Can you do it alone? No? Partner up. Being held accountable is the best way to stick to it.

Forget excuses. Write.

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Brainstormer Book Release!!

Congratulations to one of our amazing Brainstormer crew – Liz Czukas!!
Her debut novel, Ask Again Later, was released today!!
Go and buy it RIGHT NOW:
Barnes & Noble:

Liz Czukas Ask Again Later

Posted in author, Brainstormers, Liz Czukas, prom, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Down “Write” Funny – Mentorship

So, I fancy myself a bit of a mentor. *snort* Okay, so I blow a lot of smoke out of my cake-hole and pretend it’s important manna from writing heaven.

It’s called fake confidence. I have loads of it. If you know me, you’re already well aware of this.

But for whatever reason, people listen to me. I’m an animated talker and I tell a good story. Sometimes, I even get it right.

My self-important spouting never reflects malice on my part. On the contrary. I sincerely want to help people succeed, even if success is never to be my lot in life.

My brain soaks up the variety of minutia I’ve learned from workshops, books and conferences and I enjoy wringing it out on any hapless person who asks me a writing question.

My father used to say he “knew a little bit about a lot of things, but was master of none.” No doubt, he was spouting off an oft-used quote he’d picked up somewhere, and now I follow in his footsteps of collecting mind-data to wow and impress unsuspecting victims.

It’s my thing. It’s my Pied Piper trademark. It’s how I’ve collected an amazing group of friends – my Brainstormers – to join me at my beloved B&N Starbucks. My fast talk and bravado convinced them to commit to weekly sessions. We talk shop, crack the whip and write, and discuss each other’s stories and how to make them stronger. I love it. I look forward to it. I twitch on the occasions I can’t make it.

Often, one of my Brainstormers will thank me for starting the group and for keeping it going. Because sometimes, like me, it’s the only time they’ve specifically set aside for writing. They’re glad for the opportunity to give themselves permission to check routine at the door and indulge in their dream. Typically, I shrug off their thanks with a smile and a nod, because here’s the thing: I know a little secret.

It’s not me that keeps it going.

It’s them.

The ones who keep showing up. Week after week. After week. For the past 2+ years. Every Wednesday 6-8pm. The ones who finish their books. The ones who go on to sell their books – 2 members sold so far!

Whether I’m there or not.

I may have nudged the rock at the top of the hill to get this group started, but the ones who continue to show up every week? They’re the ones who keep it rolling.

I’ve learned that mentorship isn’t about lording your knowledge over your followers. It’s about lighting the fire to ignite them. It’s about leading the way and encouraging people to show up, to pass you up, and to continue to move up. With or without you.

Earlier, I said that success might never be my lot in life. I lied. My mentorship has given me success.

My Brainstormers are my success story.

This is what they have taught me. This is how my fake confidence has become real.

Are you a mentor? Or are you the one who shows up?

Either way is a path to success, my friend.

Posted in #proudmama, Brainstormers, Down Write Funny, funny, humor, Mentor, mentorship, motivation, Uncategorized, writing | 6 Comments

Down “Write” Funny – Here Comes the Judge!

I’m a mama bear. Definition: Shit on me all you want. I have broad shoulders and I know how to flush. However, shit on my spawn, and we got problems, buddy.

This is what happened. Gazelle Girl works out at a local athletic training facility. Not your typical public gym. Professional trainers, some former pros, assess and work with young athletes to motivate them into stronger, faster, go-get-a-college-scholarship, competitors. Time will tell if the investment pays off.

During the training sessions, parents watch from the windowed fish bowl of a waiting room. GG doesn’t like me to hang on every weight she lifts, so I dink around with my phone and pretend to ignore her, sneaking in covert glances when she isn’t looking.

The football dads surrounding me, however, actively engage in chest pounding, fist bumps and guttural barks of encouragement over each increased feat of prowess their future NFL players perform in the training arena. Waiting room seating is akin to the constant kidney punching in the bleachers at a sold out game, so you can imagine my patience wears transparent-thin relatively quickly.

Then one football dad pipes up about his son’s recent injury and how crucial it is to rehab him before the upcoming baseball season. He needs to buck up like a man so he can play fall ball! Terms like “Avulsion fraction” and “MRI” are tossed like around like a pigskin. Terms with which I am very familiar, if you recall GG’s cracked hoof woes of last year.

At last, a conversation that doesn’t involve tribal grunting. “Oh,” says me. “An avulsion fracture. My daughter had one. Very tricky recovery. Very lengthy.”

As one, the collective football dads give me a look of judgment to verify I possess ovaries and hence should not have an opinion on such manly-man things.

“Your daughter, eh?”

“Yes, my daughter.” I nod to GG, who is currently schooling a bulky linebacker at sprints.

They ignore her, smirk at each other, then go back to congratulating themselves for having a Y chromosome.

I get it. I don’t have actual testicles (nor do I hang a metallic pair from my Iron Uterus, but figuratively, my sac outweighs yours, pal. But, I digress. Squirrel!). I’m not a football dad, nor do I have a son who plays football. I have a daughter who runs track. So these men dismiss me. Dismiss my daughter. Dismiss her sport. Dismiss females in general because they don’t fit the archaic preconceived idea of what makes an athlete.

A dismissal based on their narrow definition of success.

This happens in publishing, too. Writers dismissing other writers because they don’t fit their distorted mold deemed worthy of praise.

Unpublished? Dismissed.

Self-published? Dismissed.

Small press? Dismissed.

Oh, only a one-book contract? Dismissed.             

Only three zeroes in your advance? (Or, Heaven forbid, no advance?) DISMISSED!

It goes on and on all the way to what lists your book has hit or missed once published. Judgment. Dismissal. We’ve done it. We’ve received it.

But why? What makes one person’s success LESS simply because it doesn’t match the yardstick by which someone else measures? Because THEY say so? Screw them.

We take power away from those we judge. We give power away to those who judge us.

But what good is this power if it only exists to bloat or deflate?

Dismissal is such an easy tool to bolster the ego. To tell ourselves that we are better or that we will reach higher. Pffft on such a puny achievement. Who does she think she is? This type of thinking allows a person to save face against their own unmet aspirations and smother jealousy.

Perhaps before we put on our judge’s robes, we should remember that each individual goal is unique. Each individual goal is personal. Each individual goal is worthy. And not only that, but each individual goal has potential to exceed the low expectations that lead to judgment.

Like an indie author racking up a gazillion sales. Or a small press turning out a NYT Bestseller. Not to mention some of those mid-level houses poised to strike in this digital age and leave the big six in their dust.

See where I’m gettin’ with this? Don’t judge. Don’t dismiss. It might come back to bite you in the ass, my friend. Or it might prevent you from recognizing success when it smacks you upside the head.

Point in case. Suffice it to say, later that evening at the Pink Zone fundraiser game at school, I ran into the same football dad who had dismissed my GG for being a girl.  Next to him was his pudgy, slack-jawed alleged-future NFL’er, staring at my lithe runner.

GG handed me her letterman jacket to hold before joining her friends. I took the opportunity to test its substantial weight.

Ching ching ching went the rows of heavy medals.

Boing boing boing went football dad’s eyeballs – from the jacket, to me, to the young track star sprinting away, to his suddenly inadequate spawn.

“Not bad for a daughter, eh?” I jingled the jacket again. Regional, Sectional and All-Conference medals disco-balled under the fieldhouse lights.

His pinched expression immediately confirmed my direct hit to the gonads.

Ain’t karma a bitch?

(Or is it just me?)

Posted in #proudmama, Down Write Funny, funny, Goals, humor, Iron Uterus, judge, judgment, karma, man-sack, parenting, publishing, spawn, Squirrel!, truck balls, writing | 4 Comments

Down “Write” Funny – New Web Banner!!

Ladies, Gentlemen and Squirrels –

May I present my awesome new web banner, created by the even more awesome Elle J. Rossi!!!

Please click my link and love it: BetsyNorman

Then hustle your patookies over to EJR Digital Art to get a cool web banner/avatar/book cover/author swag of your own!! DO IT I SAY!

Didn’t she do an amazing job???????

Posted in Down Write Funny, EJR Digital Art, patookies | Tagged | 2 Comments

Down “Write” Funny – So 2013 wasn’t The Year

So 2013 wasn’t The Year. Wasn’t My Year.

Oh. Well.

That doesn’t mean I’ve quit. (It may mean I’ve been lazy, but this isn’t a confessional, so blah.)

I had a lot of bright, shiny moments in 2013 that kept a glimmer of hope burning a cherry mark on my soul. I’m not ready to give up. I’ve still got reasons to write. Stories to tell. Points to make.

Not sure if I’ll ever be ready to roll over and display my soft underbelly of defeat. There are way too many possibilities, too many opportunities, and too many stubborn voices prodding at my gray matter to keep me moving forward and my keyboard clacking.

No. I’m not ready to quit. 2013 was an odd and unlucky numbered year unwilling to be my bitch. 2014 is jumping the gates, swooshing in on a chill wind and forcing me to pay attention. Forcing me to take notice. Forcing me to give it another go.

What message I hear on that wind depends on how willing I am to listen.

~2013 was just the practice run, Betsy. 2014 is the place to be!~

Oh, I’m all over that, baby. I’m all about second chances. Now it’s up to me to make it happen.

Can you hear what the wind is saying to you?


Posted in 2013 is THE year, Down Write Funny, funny, Goals, humor, motivation, publishing, Uncategorized, writing | 8 Comments

Down “Write” Funny – How Does Band Compare to Writing?

So I’m trapped at yet another one of my spawn’s high school required viewing events. This time, it’s a band concert. I’m scrunched into an auditorium chair clearly built for teenage bodies, playing with my phone like every other parent, and waiting for the shuffling and scraping of chairs, instruments and music stands to finally still and the director to tap tap tap his baton and make the magic happen.

But what is this? Tiny pre-pubescents take the stage. Tonight, we are “honored” to have the eighth grade band perform. This allows the youngsters to listen to the high school bands and give them something to aspire to – how lucky are we! (Insert collective stifled moan of the audience.)

As we listen to the program of beginner middle school band climb up the ladder to Freshman, Concert, SWAP and then finally Wind Ensemble, I notice the improvement of both quality of play and difficulty of the selections. There is a significant change from the squawking noise of the eighth graders to the fluent mesh and gel of Gazelle Girl’s band playing the evening’s last number. The years of practice and maturity is reflected in the beauty of the music.

Which, of course, makes me think of how this relates to writing. (Because what doesn’t, right?) Specifically, I think of Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers and his 10,000 hours theory – the idea that it takes 10,000 hours to master a particular skill.

It’s never more relevant, nor more clearly demonstrated, than at a band concert featuring beginners all the way through to a premier high school band.

Believe me.

From the squeaking reeds and sour notes that make your eardrums bleed to the harmonies and rapid note-play that make your pride swell, the 10,000 hours of practice example is displayed.

Compare this to writing. How does Gladwell’s theory work in your creative routine? How many hours a week do you spend butt in chair, hands on keyboard? The math would be overwhelming (so I will spare Lady Dee), but even if you do a rough mental calculation, you’d realize it’s not something that can be achieved quickly. How many hours do you think you’ve put into your writing compared to where you are currently in your career goal of being published? Are you like me? Hunt and peck your way through a story that may take a couple of years to write? (My whole life, I may never achieve 10,000 hours!) Or do you grind them out, working every spare minute and laughing at the absurdity of a mere 10,000 hours? How are your hours adding up? Do they test the theory, or prove it?

We like to scowl and grind our teeth at these perceived “overnight” success stories – authors who hit a bestseller list with their first novel. But stop and think. Did they *really* get it SO right the first time? Or are there several novels collecting dust (and racking up hours of writing time) shoved under the bed that didn’t make the cut? The latter, methinks.

Practice makes perfect. That’s been howled into your skull from day one. Every writer starts out like that squeaky eighth grader clarinet, splitting a reed and making ungodly noise until they firm up their lip and tongue and hit the notes precisely. It takes practice and determination. It takes reading and education. Just as the beginner listens to the master high school band, so does a writer read an award winning author – to give us something to aspire to. To give us a goal. To give us a purpose to stretch ourselves and reach.

And how do we do this?

10,000 hours.

Tick tock. Get writing, my friends.

Posted in 000 hours, author, funny, Goals, humor, malcolm gladwell, marching band, outliers, parenting, publishing, spawn, Uncategorized, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

NaNoWriMo Land – Repost

I posted this last year – thought it might be worth a revisit to kick yourself (and me) in the pants. Enjoy!


No, I’m not saying “Hello!” from the planet Ork. NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month. The month in question being November, which is poised to sneak and pounce on us likewise the way September basically immaterialized before our very eyes. (Was there a September this year? Did anyone else experience that blur? Just me? Okay.)

The goal of NaNoWriMo is to write 50,000 words of a novel in thirty days. Period.

That’s it. There is no rule stating you must pen a NYT Bestseller. You are not obligated to hit save and send to 100 agents and editors the moment you finish (FYI, that’s highly frowned upon, newbie). In fact, you have the express permission that every single one of those 50k words you vomit up during the course of November can amount to a big, heaping pile of text dookie.

Because the only requirement of NaNoWriMo is to write 50,000 words of a story.

And yes, it can SUCK. Huzzah! In fact, it’s *supposed* to suck.

That’s the magic of the month. You get to write that “shitty first draft” Anne Lamont states all writers need to do just to get the words on paper.

You are NOT, however, during the course of the month allowed to edit your black hole vortex 50k of suck. More magic! Nope. You power through it. Plop in post-it notes of “insert conflict, research blahdiddyblah here, have epic sex/fight/epiphany scene” in the spots where you know what you want to happen, but aren’t sure how to write it and then you Move On.

Excited yet? I’ve just given you permission to suck at writing. What more do you want?

Want to take my hand and yippity-skippity into the magical land of ok-to-write-copious-amount-of-suck land? Let’s go!

Step One: Go make a name for yourself on the official website (And no, I’m not getting paid for that advertisement. I just hate to be a dweeb to talk about something and not tell you how to find it.) Fill in all the cutesy stuff that labels you a writer and poke your fellow writing buddies to add to your list and make you feel important. Do whatever to fill in all the blanks you’re comfortable shouting at the world in general about who you are and what your goal is as a writer.

The reason I say do this, other than the obvious hold yourself accountable to the task you’ve committed to factor, is because they have a neato tool that helps you track your word count and run stats over the course of the month on your progress. I’m a numbers person, remember? Bean counter? I live for this kind of shit. Especially when it means I can combine both left and right brain activity. That’s full blown mind candy, my friends. So do it. DO IT, I SAY!

I’ll wait. *Insert Jeopardy music.* Ready?

But HOW do I write FIFTY THOUSAND words in a month?? I can hear you gnash and wail and unleash your introverted hyper-insecurities. Easy!!! Do the math! The anal number cruncher in me will help the math-challenged (Lady Dee, you know who I’m talking to right now). To make 50k in thirty days, you must write at least 1667 words per day. That’s roughly 70 words per hour, .86 words per minute, (Squirrel!). Sorry, forgot myself a moment and went Rainman. You get the idea. Depending on how fast you can spew suck, 1667 words is roughly one uninterrupted hour of sprint-writing, by my calculations.

Every. Day.

But what about Turkey Day? Black Friday? Holiday hoops to jump through before Xmas? Weekends, man?? Some days I just wanna sit in my jammies and scratch things I can’t in public!

Okay, fine. Then do the math another way to compensate by upping your word count for the days you cower away from your computer. Some days you might write 500 or 5000 words, just make sure it averages out to reach your 50k goal.

Spend the rest of October preparing. Maybe jot a few notes, think about the story you want to write, create a few characters, but DO NOT WRITE. You’ll want to. The desire to start now will burn inside you! But let the embers fuel you for the jump start on November 1st when you can unleash the story fire onto your unsuspecting computer. A lot of NaNo’s cheerlead and say you should also make meals ahead, prepare to let the laundry sit, ignore your family, lock yourself away, all in the name of plowing through to your goal, but let’s get real.

You don’t need to give up your life to write. IMO, the goal of NaNoWriMo is to break your lazy habit of writing ONLY when you have a spare minute and insert a write-every-day-no-matter-what habit in its stead. They say you can make or break a habit in two weeks. NaNo doubles that timeframe, and forces you to write every day for FOUR weeks. So, you miss a day or two here and there. That’s life, bucko. Your spawn needs attention. The day job requires your presence. I get it, financial and emotional bills need to be paid before you can follow your dream and write. But if your true goal is to BE a writer, then newsflash, you gotta WRITE!

Will all of you make it to 50k? No. I’m telling you this now. I have yet to make that prestigious goal and win the colorful and enviable little web badge stating I’m a NaNoWriMo winner! Maybe you’ll make it to 30k or 40k, but the point is, it’s a helluva lot more than you normally would have, right? So, that makes you a winner. Cuz I say so, that’s why.

But this year… THIS YEAR!! I have set my cap. As God Is My Witness! And you, of course, to hold me accountable and boo-hiss me as a miserable failure if I don’t….. No, wait. We are winners all. I promise you!

How do you prove you’ve reached your 50k goal, you ask? It’s an honor system, really. Each day, you can input your current word count into the cool stat thingy I told you about earlier to keep your daily tally, but by the last day of the month, you must upload all 50k of your writing to verify word count. They have a cool word jumbler that turns your suck to nonsense, so you don’t have to worry about them stealing your story. What happens after that? You win, of course! Nifty NaNo Scout Badge!!

No cash? No prizes? No free vacation? No, silly. You wrote suck. Be happy with the badge.

Of course, you could cheat, your cheating cheater-pants sub-conscious self is already realizing, and upload 50k words of some other project you didn’t write during NaNo. But who does that serve, really? Is the stupid internet badge really worth tainting your soul? Then be my guest.

OR, you could accept the challenge and show yourself you’ve got 50k waiting to be purged from your writer depths. It’s only a month. Any story could be told. Fill the blank pages that mock you. Make them your bitch.

Who knows what emptying yourself into a text file without some crusty internal editor to seize you up could create? What’s the worst that could happen? Sparkling little perfect morsels of story hidden inside the vortex of suck? The skeleton start of a potentially amazing plot? An intriguing character or conflict twist?

Yeah. That. That could happen. You may not suck as bad as you think. In fact, you may anti-suck yourself into believing you can do this.

Join me! Tra la la la! For I am the Pied Piper of Anti-Suck and I will play my magic blog-flute and lead you down this path of dangerously habit-forming writing exercise and we will succeed together.

Grab napkins and post-its and start manically scribbling ideas for your upcoming writing binge. Warn family and friends. Overfeed your pets. Stock up on Ramen Noodles and Mac-n-cheese.


Now go sign up and be my writing buddy! My handle is BNorman at

See you there!

Posted in author, cheaterpants, Down Write Funny, funny, Goals, humor, Little Goals, motivation, NaNoWriMo, newbie, spawn, Suck, writing, yippity skippity | 2 Comments

Down “Write” Funny – Physical Therapy for Writers

I’ve been gone awhile. Did you give a shit? No? Me neither, so there, blah. It’s my blog and I’ll do what I want.

This summer has been filled with my physical issues finally put to rights. Health trumped blogging. I refuse to regale you with the minutiae of my trials. I don’t want to read someone else’s whining and I’m assuming you don’t, either. We all carry around our own personal bucket of suck. Blogging TMI about your aches and pains and body fluids is skeevy, IMO. Worse yet, thinking other people actually want to hear your shit storm is narcissistic.

So, you won’t be catching me doing that here.  Lucky you!!

I will, however, correlate my summer experience with writing. Because, that’s what I do. That’s what you’re expecting from me. (If you were looking for skeevy, move along, creeper.)

Has anyone ever been sentenced to three months of physical therapy for age crimes committed to the body?  Oo!  Oo! I know this one!  Me!  Me!

If not, let me break it down for you. Physical therapy consists of repetitive exercises and stretching to strengthen the muscle and work the particular kink out of your system that’s giving you fits.

They’re not hard exercises. We’re not talking major cardio. Each exercise is simple and focuses on the same muscle group. Over and over. One foot, two foot, Frankenstein-walk your way with rubber ankle handcuffs across the room. Now do it again. And again. Oh, does it hurt? Are you sweating? Fun time is over, cupcake. Sucks to be you. Now, do it backwards. Strap yourself to this contraption and pull. Pull. Pull. Twist. Pull. Give this big bouncy ball a lap dance. That’s it, move your hips. Get down on all fours. Lift your leg. No. Straight back. Here, don’t let this ball roll off. Straight back! Now lift opposite leg and hand. Yes, at the same time. Thirty times. Don’t let that ball drop! Focus. DO IT, I SAY!

Betsy, WTF? You’re whining. You promised no whining. No one wants to hear this.

I’m not whining. I’m working my way to a point. Each of these small exercises, despite how foolish they looked, despite how doing them repeatedly hurt, had purpose: To work the muscles over and over until the stiff and frozen ache thawed into a strong and flowing forward motion. Pain free!  La! La!

I see your face. You’re bored now. Your hand is hovering over the mouse to click on Fakebook instead of my vapid diatribe and you’re thinking: What the hell does this have to do with writing? 

Everything! *smack* Aren’t you paying attention?

It’s the “write every day” adage. Work that stiff gray matter every day. Use small, repetitive exercises – a/k/a write a 100 words a day. Write 250 words a day. Write 1k per day! The more you do it, the more the muscle works, the more the words flow. Writing every day keeps your story in the forefront of your mind so it doesn’t get stiff and comatose in the cobwebs of your brain basement. 

Writing every day helps you remember where your story’s at, and with daily “workouts” you’ll know where your story’s going so you don’t stall out. Just a few sentences. Start small. Stretch until you feel it, not until it hurts. The next day, you’ll be able to stretch a little bit more. And a little bit more. Your 100 baby step word count might jump to 500 after a steady week of progress, until it builds, stronger and stronger, longer and longer, soon you’re spewing 2k without even blinking…. You get the idea?

So. The take-away lesson? Physical therapy sucks. It hurts. And it takes time and repetition. Lots of time and repetition. But, eventually, the suck goes away and the muscles flow. The same can be said for writing. Bitch slap your fear, your writers’ block, your fickle muse – whatever excuse you’re using to NOT write – and shelve that shit. Just for five minutes. Go write 25 words. Two sentences. Six. More. Just do it. Feel good? Limber?  Yeah, that’s the good stuff.  Nike and my sadistic PT gal would be so proud.

Now do it every day. For like, weeks. Months. Make it a habit.

Here’s why: Remember when I blogged last fall about Gazelle Girl and her bout with PT because of her squinky heel? How it sucked? How loooooooooooonnnnnnng it took and how many awful cups of Caribou Coffee I had to drink waiting out her PT sessions 3x a week? Yeah, well, here’s the scoop on that: This spring, Gazelle Girl went on to become a State Qualifier in the 300 high hurdles. She’s one of the top hurdlers in the whole f*cking STATE because she put in the time, effort, stretching and OMG-THIS-SUCKS physical therapy to get herself back into champion mode. I am beyond proud.

She is my hero and I will forever beat my chest when I talk about my baby and how she inspires me. She makes me want to be a better writer. She motivates me to pursue my goals. She sets the example of what can be achieved with fierce determination and stick-to-itiv-ness.

Because we all have choices. Every day. We can sit around, surf the ‘net while we wait for ‘inspiration’ to smack us upside the head – Or we can get off our dead asses, force our brains to work and stretch through the pain of story creation to give our novels a daily dose of who’s-your-mama. Keep chugging away until your brain is practically salivating for you to fire up your computer and spew plot and conflict all the way until The End.

Because, that’s how real writers write. Every day. No exceptions.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Writer Websites: Using WordPress to Make Your Site

Thank you for posting this, Liz! I am re-posting your blog because there are WAY too many awesome links to be found, and also because I need to blow the cobwebs off of my own blog and utilize some of these tidbits to spruce things up around here!!!

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment