I have decided to make writing my job. I read these two posts on wordbitches and Kristen Lamb’s blog, both on treating writing like a job and realized that I owe it to myself and to my family, really, to take myself more seriously. Instead of a word count, I will be working on hours a day. I want a part time job of 20 hours a week. I have to take what I really and truly want more seriously. I want to write. So I start my new job on Monday.
The other job I am giving myself is to get in shape. I will be 40 in a year. I have written about how excited I am about this. When I mentioned in my book group that I was dreading my birthday, they asked me if it was my 30th. They drink wine during book group. A LOT of wine. But I must say I take pretty good care of my skin. I’m masking right now.
My friend Elena Aitken gave me a workout schedule to run a 5k in March and doing something with weights on off days. It may actually kill me. Right now, the only part of my body that doesn’t hurt is my fingers. Otherwise I would not be able to type this. Which is good because I’m starting my other job on Monday.
But between these two things, I’ve got to cut down on something. I jog while watching TV or I do laundry while studying medicine (by watching House or Grey’s Anatomy. Their medical experts are the closest I will get to medical school.)
So I can keep TV and laundry. I don’t clean my house now so I can’t really give that up.
I think personal hygiene may have to go because at my age it takes a REALLY long time to look good. You have to keep masks on for ten minutes and then rinse AFTER you have already washed your face. It’s a whole extra step.
I also think giving it up will give me more time to write because no one will want to be around me. But like most artists, I will sacrifice for my art.
Went through my pictures and thought this might be ok to represent bad hygiene.
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Tagged blogging, Elena Aitkin, exercising, Grey's Anatomy, House, hygiene, job, joggin, Kristen Lamb, masquing, tv, wordbitches, writing
As someone who is doing her best to “get out there,” I read a lot of blogs by agents, authors, and people with all around good advice. One thing they all say: “Be polite on your blog. Remember it’s public. Don’t go on rants (or at least not on a regular basis.)”
This can be hard because I have to remind myself that people I am not actually related to read this. People who I have not actually met read this (at least two of them.) My unfailing wish of goodness for all people does not always come across in my writing. Especially when I am giving the top ten list why certain people should not be allowed to work a cash register. (I have not actually written this but I can think of three right now.)
But sometimes being polite gets to be too much. Sometimes I want to use this really tiny platform to make a really tiny stand and rant and rave; politeness be damned. Which is how I am feeling right now and I hope you don’t mind.
So right now, although you can’t see me, just trust me, I am writing this while chewing with my mouth full AND my elbows are on the table.
Ok. I’m done. Because I don’t plan on being impolite too often, my next ranting probably won’t occur until I start Christmas shopping.
(Sorry no pictures. If I post a picture of my rebellion, my mom will call and ask if she didn’t teach me better. I need plausible deniability.)
I am reading a book. To make it amazing, let me add that I am reading a book without vampires or shirtless men. Now I can feel the awe.
It is called The Gifts of Imperfection. It is about how we need vulnerability in our lives to connect with each other. Everyone has shame in our lives, but by acknowledging our shame and telling our stories, we can overcome it. Courage is telling our stories and liking who we are in the process.
That is really hard. Blogging does not always help.
I started this blog to share writing. That is all. I didn’t care about statistics or pings or tweets or a bunch of other words that did not actually have meaning five years ago. I want to write and have people read my writing. I also want to be published on actual paper that comes out of a publishing company and not my home printer. So I started learning about marketing and platforms and other stuff. And I forgot about enjoying writing or maybe just enjoying.
I wondered why some posts got 500 hits and some got -2. I wondered what made this blogger popular and this one not. I wondered why so many writing blogs tell you not to read writing blogs. And I started to believe I wasn’t good enough = shame.
Now I am realizing that my blog isn’t really about building a platform or marketing fiction I am writing. I have the most fun writing when I feel like I am letting people know that they aren’t the only one out there who hears voices in the shoe department or who questions whether or not her children will grow up big and strong with all of the failings of their mother. (Actually, my children will grow up to be big due to genetics which is why I believe McDonald’s is totally ok for them WHENEVER I forget dinner or have scheduled piano, swimming, and gymnastics with only a 20 minute break and I am not the type who thinks about it before it actually happens so I do not have a picnic in my trunk. I will next week.)
I just thought I would share in case anyone else out there worries about their blogs stats 🙂 (and decides whether or not to get out of bed depending on them.) (Feel free to interchange blog stats with other nouns as well. And if you would like me to write about other topics I am completely human in, let me know. The Imperfection book talks about self-compassion as well and realizing I am not the only person who wants to wear a Barry Manilow tshirt today but knows they aren’t stylish and therefore thinks I should wear the green shirt instead but then refuses to let society dictate what I wear so I wear the Manilow shirt and then covers it with a hoodie.)
Hi. I’m Marianne. I had
an unrealistic dream a goal to write three times a week on my blog and to rule the social media universe. Then I woke up and realized that I wasn’t doing well with it. I didn’t feel what I wrote was as good as it was when I found a spark of something interesting to write about and wrote then. Having three deadlines a week just doesn’t work for me. I began writing a lot about a certain TV show and since I have about two weeks of episodes left, I need to get a new topic. (But I must add that by the end of Brandon and Kelly, I was really sick of Brandon and Kelly. I almost shot my TV.)
So I am going to step back for a little while and write when I receive inspiration, and I feel creative and I feel master of the metaphor. Or I feel anchored in alliteration. Or I need advice.
And I have decided to not rule the social media universe. After watching King’s Speech, I have decided that ruling isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And seeing all of the publicity Will and Kate have had (I would be scared to sneeze in public if I were her) I think I will be ok not photographing myself buying toilet paper while in the grocery store and writing about how I am just like other people because I buy toilet paper. This is my favorite part of US Weekly because it is truly
poetic absurd – the “Celebrities are just like us” section where they drive their own cars and walk on the sidewalk. Whoever came up with this is a marketing genius. Can you imagine the meeting? The publisher is looking at a table with a bunch of not sensational pictures, and asks: Why do we have 345 pictures of Tom Cruise eating a deviled egg and what are we going to do with them?
Answers soon to be promoted to chief editor employee: Let’s put it in the magazine to show people that celebrities who haven’t brushed their own hair for the last five years and who eat one slice of turkey every three days to maintain calorie intake, are really just the same as I am while I am sitting here in sweats I slept in wondering if I don’t wash my hair until Friday will it look really good for my date with Steve?
And the Publisher realizes this is a gold mine for really stupid pictures and the rest is history.
I'm just like you: I want to put lights up for Christmas, but when I get outside and it is -10, I decide one strand on a twig/tree is festive enough.
That was a great tangent.
I’ll see you again when I think of another one.