Writing Out Loud

Writer Without a Cause. A Gal Named Desire. The Abuse of the Semi-colon. And other strange crap.

things you should know.

This is not my first blog. Or my second. Or my third. It's my fourth. There is a long story to that. No, I do NOT wish to share it right now.

I realize I'm one of a mere 8 babillion other aspiring writers among a mere 800 babillion blogs on the internet. If you stick around and come back, you're a more patient human being than I am.

I write many things. I love the essay (thus, I blog), but am also partial to the mainstream literature short story. I have a big problem with flash fiction. Conciseness isn't my strong suit. This will become painfully obvious the more you read.

I have never been published but HAVE submitted. Getting published is a lengthy, painful process involving excruciating embarrassments, tedious legwork, and very (very) little compensation. Rejection is simply a rite of passage for writers. I welcome it; I shall greet it with revelry.

I tell myself this because, in reality, rejection of any kind makes me writhe in agony.

Blogging amazes me. Sometimes I read other people's blogs and I think: "Wow. That person is amazing! Does s/he have a Best of the Blogs nomination yet??" Of course, sometimes I also read other people's blogs and think: "Wow. That person is a deranged, dangerous psychotic! Does the government have a task force on this yet??" If I wasn't such a bleeding heart liberal, I'd be on the Homeland Watchdog Internet Taskforce. There are 100 gazillion crazies out there and they all have DSL.

Things I love (besides writing)(and books, which are just a given–can't love writing and not love books!)(well, you CAN…but then they don't send you the GOOD rejection letters):

Starbucks. Yes, Starbucks and no I don't care if you think they're an evil corporate entity hell bent on world takeover. So is the Bush Administration. At least Starbucks makes a kickass soy chai–George and Dick don't even offer biscotti to their customers.

I could drink my WEIGHT in chocolate martinis. Though I find that Venti Decafs (room for cream) are better for my overall work performance each morning. Chocolate martinis are for happy hour. And, sometimes, early Sunday mornings.

I do have a dayjob. Dayjobs are prerequisites for struggling writers. I generally love mine, but would quit in a heartbeat if I could eke out a decent living at writing. I would worry about my decision for a long time, though. Until the movie option came through and I was the girl Dan Brown.

I hated the Da Vinci Code. Really, really hated it–loved the subject matter, hated the writing. Horrible, just horrible. Dan! Get an editor!

I know many of you will be saying that very same thing to me at some point. I do not care; it's nothing I haven't heard time and time again.

Blogging, I've found, opens portals; some are good, some are bad. Over at MSN Spaces (where I began blogging), I made some wonderful friends I still keep in touch with. I also met some psychotic crazies who make me wonder about the future of the human race.

Members of the human race who DON'T worry me: the Dalai Lama. Nelson Mandela. Oprah Winfrey (stop it! just stop it! playa hatahs). Sir Ian McKellalan ( I know I mangled his name–I'll fix it later). Maya Angelou. Laurence Fishburne, Antonio Banderas, Colin Firth, and Adrien Brody.

I secretly hope all five of those last humans some day stumble upon my blog here, fall madly in love with me, and whisk me off to Fiji.

I hope my fiance's okay with that.

I'm getting married this July. It's been a long and winding road (as John Lennon liked to say), but I'm glad I went down it. It got me back here. With him, who is very very worth it.

Even if he can't afford to take me to Fiji.

I consider myself a Christian, but I don't get crazy about it, people! Religious fundamentalists bother me, really really bother me…especially Christians. I don't know why; maybe it's because Jesus Christ spent so much time giving the world such gentle, forgiving, compassionate messages of love and hope. I really wish some people (*cough*Pat Robertson *cough*) would start doing the same.

Until then, I like to call myself: "Christian Lite." As opposed to "Christian Regular" (or "Christian Fully Caffeinated").

I live in the Bible Belt, surrounded by Red, Flag-waving, Immigrant-bashing, real American Christian Coalitionists. And yes. I AM in hell, thanks for asking!

I watch Bill Maher every Friday and weep when his season ends. I wish Bill Maher would help create our national policies. I'd go to Fiji with Bill, too. But only if he paid. And we got one of those huts over the ocean with a glass bottomed living room floor. And there was air conditioning.

Sharks freak me out. So do plane crashes, boat disasters, earthquakes, windstorms, and drivers who don't understand right of way. Other than that, I'm quite well-adjusted.

I dig little kids. Especially my niece, Grace, who loves loves loves to get as dizzy as she can and willfully and libidinously disrobes in public with no modesty whatsoever. Kids just don't have the baggage adults do, you know?

I dig animals. Specifically, I dig cats, dogs, dolphins, and horses. Animals just don't have the baggage humans do.

What! You act like I think baggage is a BAD thing. Of course it's not; I LOVE baggage! It's the spice of life.

More things I love:

Sunny days. Sunny summer days. Sunny summer days floating in the middle of a lake with a cold beer in my hand. Bonus points if that beer is a Corona Lite. With a lime. And Sean Paul's TEMPERATURE is playing in the background.

I love music. On intelligence tests, I usually come out as having Music Intelligence. I don't know why. I did play the piano and flute when I was younger. But nada today. I have friends with latent desires to be rock stars; I'd be happy being a Rolling Stone music critic. Maybe I should explore that niche.

I speak Spanish (Yo hablo espanol) and have a deep respect for latino culture; I love the smell of lavendar; I love to run (and on my good days, I'll throw in weight lifting too); I love music, books, and movies that make me cry; my favorite authors are Edith Wharton, Sylvia Plath, William Faulkner, Flannery O'Connor, and William Steinbeck. I never give out titles of favorite books because I read so much and fall in love with so many different books we'd be here all day if I named all my favorites. Ditto for movies. Ditto for songs.

I have a severe addiction to chocolate, sleeping in late, words, the smell of Barnes & Noble, sleeping babies and cats, good restaurants, the occasional new shoes orgasm, and funny, nice people who crack me up.

I wear rose colored glasses but they're beginning to fade just a bit. This makes me incredibly sad. I believe in the power of intention, karma, and what goes around comes around. I think it IS better to give than to receive and I'm very, very worried about the melting of the North Pole because good lord, where will Santa, the reindeer, and all the elves GO?? They can't go to the Amazon rainforest because they're chopping it down and they certainly can't head over to the Middle East because well, just LOOK at it!

I try to be Zen but my existentialist nature gets in the way. I've lived all over the USA but prefer where I'm at now–there's more to do here. I love cultural things but get annoyed by overly cultured people.

I'm a Pisces and a very poor feminist. I support gay people. I don't support bigots. I think I'm on Team Jennifer but Team Angelina is working to make the world better, so I might forgive her. One day. I pray nightly for the world to get its act together.

Blogging is a powerful tool, an outlet, and I think it's a useful medium. My name is Amy, I'm a writer, a bit off-kilter, and this is my blog.

Thank you for reading, please visit often.

May 3, 2006 Posted by | Meandering Rambles | Leave a comment