J is an unpublished author, represented by Carrie Pestritto of Prospect Agency. J's first novel is a YA fantasy horror, regarding a siren who must choose between the haunting life and humanity.
J draws on occasion, reads quite often, and is a founding member of the critique group 'Thoughtical Verbosity.'
First off, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my older (hur hur) sister!! Sandi, you've long been an inspiration to me, and only get more awesome the longer I know you :) Keep on rockin', girl!
So guess what? I've been compensated!!
For those of you with a confused grasp on the word, that means that I've received some sort of payment for services rendered.
For those of you who are in no way enlightened by that, here's the story:
Last night, my older bro calls and says he wants to talk shop with me. Zach is the owner of the voice you'll hear in about 75% of the male characters (and 2% of the female characters) in the upcoming podcast, 'The Phil Innis Adventures.' He's also one of my two primary sources for idea-bouncing and camaraderie. Part of what I've always appreciated about Zach is that he always gives it to me straight. Fishing for compliments will result in a straight-laced "Don't be an idiot." If something I've written is bad, he will tell me that it is bad. Somehow without being a jerk about it, and usually making me bust out laughing at myself.
So, Zach says he wants to talk shop with me, and I readily agree. He came over to ask me some questions about my writing process, which I will more than likely go off on regardless of whether or not anyone wants me to.
Zach is working on a project of his own. Simply because I don't know whether he'd want me to or not, but I won't get into the details. Suffice to say it's in the world of video gameagae, and if anyone is capable of making an instant hit in that realm, it is my brother. I'm excited to see if anything comes of this!
And for my time last night, he gave me a Pokemon Gold, for the DS. I'm counting it as my first consultation commission. Huzzah!!
Also, behold my first painting in many moons:
This is, fate allowing, more or less what the first cover art for 'The Phil Innis Adventures' will look like. Once I have a more comfortable setup, I will likely scan and re-edit it. But I don't think it's too bad, for my first painting in years!
Well, here am I, true to my word and blogging remarkably soon after my last blurb.
Part of the reason I don't blog as often as others may is...well, I don't want to just get on and ramble about what the green grocer was wearing, or whatever other useless tidbit offended me. Not everyone who has the time and inclination to blog will have the brains or ability to write something interesting every time. So I savor up my brain juice and try to pour it all out at once. I'm not entirely sure what that says in correlation to my very limited posting up to this point, but...let's move on.
Every once in a while, I start to feel down on myself. Now, before you hurry to click away to a less emo blog, don't worry! There will be no likening my life to raucous music or tips on properly applying eye-makeup with a spoon. For those of you who prefer such mental wanderings...um, go somewhere else.
Anyway, every once in a while, I start to feel down on myself. I'm not entirely sure why. I have my theories, but I've also heard that it's a natural thing. Everyone's mental processes act somewhat like emotional tides. Or rollercoasters, as the case may be. I imagine mine is somewhat like a water coaster.
Moving on.
During these down times, which generally last just a couple of days or so, all of my personal faults rear up in my face. What I see is ugly and embittering. I get frustrated by how little I've accomplished, and feel like even on a good day I barely make a dent in the work I have ahead of me if I'm to reach my goals. One day goes by when I can't write, draw, paint, or even plot anything. And I start to worry that all of these things I've got planned are just going to be unfinished bits that go out with the years, leaving nothing but a bad taste in my mouth.
I rarely discuss these feelings with anyone because, quite frankly, I don't want to sound like that spoon-makeup person a few paragraphs back. And deep down, I know how ridiculous these thoughts are. Any one person can accomplish any one thing if they truly put in their all, and haven't done anything to agitate karma. And even if the progress is slow, at least I know what I want to do. Some people don't realize their dreams, much less start chipping away at them, until they're much further along in life.
So what to do with all of the negativity? I'm not a very social person by nature; never have been. So I don't have a herd of groupies to call over to sit around telling me how AWEsome I am. Nor do I think I would particularly enjoy that. I also hate spending the time I do have with the people that matter to me by whining about how off-put I've made myself.
So usually, I take matters into my own hands. I get some exercise. I watch films or tv shows I like a lot. I day-dream. I hang out with people who make me laugh. I don't dig any deeper into the insecurity pool than I absolutely must just to find the plug, pull it, and make the dark sludgy stuff sink away.
And then, at the first opportunity, I get back to work.
Hey everyone :) Sorry this is a few days late, but I've been a wee bit busy. Bakeries do that around holidays where it's traditional but time-consuming to send loved ones edible gifts.
I hope you all had a happy Valentine's Day. Do you know, I heard someone complaining about how it was a ridiculous holiday. They protested that it only got started because of something called the Valentine's Day Massacre, and the holiday card companies leaped on some random event and turned it into a celebration of lovey-dovey goo-goo money making schemes.
I chuckled not-so-quietly to myself. The misinformation that travels around this watery planet makes for a most amusing evening with nothing better to do than trawl around on the internet.
In fact, there has been more than one 'Saint Valentine' throughout recorded history. The first one popped up a long, long time ago, before the calendar had even reached quadruple digits. None of the originals had anything to do with romance outright, that much is true. But the heart-throb aspect of the holiday was adopted long before Hallmark started making cheap, sappy movies. When Courtly Love was popular (that means professions of deep emotion, hand kisses, noble deeds, and an honor-bound lack of hanky-panky) some king decided to write fanfiction accounts about one of the original Saint Valentine's.
You see, the original story, as best we have it, is that Saint Valentine (the one in question) was captured by a Pagan dude. The Pagan dude thought Saint Valentine was the bomb. So he tried to convert the Saint out of Christianity, in order to save Valentine from being sentenced to death for...well, being a Christian. But Valentine was all, 'No, how about YOU convert to Christianity, yo?'*
So Valentine was sentenced to death. But before he died, he performed a miracle by curing the blindness of his jailer's daughter.
Years later, Ye Olde Kinge of the Courtly Love era decided to make a subtle change. Now, the story reads that in his last moments Saint Valentine sent out a love letter. Often the letter is sent to the jailer's daughter (remember the blind one?).
And so, with a slight twist, history acquired a new love-based holiday. It wasn't until centuries later that a bunch of gangsters committed a small but still technically mass-murder against a bunch of other gangsters in what would come to be known as the Valentine's Day Massacre. The Hallmark cards were once handmade, and the sentiments weren't always so mechanically manufactures, but the idea of spreading love on V-Day is older than anyone's great-great-great-grandparents can remember.
So, again, forgive me for the late update. But I hope you all had a wonderful Valentine's Day anyhow, and continue to do so in the coming years!
Also, as a side-note, I'm now going to try and post AT LEAST once a week. I'll also be starting up a vlog, probably on the same basis. See you then!
*The exchange may not have used these words exactly
The title is not referring to a tantrum thrown by me. Well, maybe, depending on how you look at it. But here we go!
An interesting tantrum from a customer got me thinking. He was making a big deal about which danish he got, wanting the biggest one. In my professional eye, they were all the same size, but that hardly mattered. When we finally got him squared away, he gave me a mournful pout and said, "You don't really care which one I want, do you?"
My response at the time was to chuckle and say "They pay me to care," which is both partially true and a good way to appease the whiners.
But as days passed, I couldn't get the question out of my head. "You don't really care what I want, do you?"
The truth is: Of course I don't! And if we're really honest with ourselves, it would be creepy if I did!
Can you imagine what sort of backwards world we'd live in if customer service reps had the demeanor they do in the commercials? No family life, no goals, no interests outside of how many fish specials they can hawk out to the twinkling lights of their lives: the customers.
It would be like the marketplace the Stepford Wives shop at. Any personal trauma or loss of limb would be easily programmed away. If the C.C.R. doesn't achieve their goal of measuring out, pricing and packaging the customer's products PERFECTLY, they self destruct. Life is not living if you can't magically pull out exactly what the crotchety dude in loafers wants, whether or not it's been sold out for hours!
Is that really how the average customer wants to shop? Indentured robotics in aprons and uniforms? I seem to recall a time when some stranger taking a deep interest in what you've got going on was cause for a search warrant and arrest. Whatever happened to a simple, "Hello, I would like that one, Thank you, Have a nice day?" There's nothing wrong with responding to other humans with, dare I say it, basic human contact. Even if one of you is being paid to stand behind a counter.
So, no, I really don't care what my customers want. Or how they want it. Or what they're going to do with it. And that is the greatest gift I can give to someone I don't know.
Hello all! I suppose as a responsible blogger I should have got some brief message up on one of my internet hubs and hollered my holiday greetings at you hooligans. Alas and alackaday, that did not happen. I was busy celebrating the holidays.
And yet, here I am, wishing you the very best of end-of-year celebrations! New Year's is coming up soon, and I am delighted to say that I have the weekend off from work. Huzzah! That means I'll actually be around when friend Amber and her lovely children come over, and I can finally give them their Christmas gifts. Yay!
I hope you all had a fabulous Christmas. I know I did. Knowing that a return to school is (hopefully) in my future, I went all out this year with my gift-giving with the unofficial understanding that the pickin's will be rather more slim in 2011. My philosophy on money is rather simple: It's just money. At a certain age, you can and will be making more. Should you squirrel away some for the future? Yes. And increasingly 'yes' as time marches on. But when you're at a certain whimsical age and you have little better to do than travel to exotic places and spoil nieces, nephews and siblings...don't be a Scrooge!
Unless you're in school, in which case the Scrooging will happen for you.
And the time spent with family was a lot of fun. Between work and just plain not living together, I don't see most of my other siblings all that much. This year I even got to see them all at once for a few brief moments; something that generally only occurs at weddings and funerals.
A few days after Christmas, I went out and bought myself something rather exciting: a new Flip camera. I've named it Jeffries. And with our power combined, soon you'll have my mug and melodious voice to accompany the blog. Yeehaw! Be prepared.
Well, until I see (in this case having the unique definition of 'blindly write to') you again!
Hello friends/people I've never met but might get along with!
Today is a momentous day in my life. It is the first and last time I shall ever turn 23. Unless, of course, I turn into one of those anal old ladies who can't look my own wrinkly self in the face and I decide to lie about my age. I mean, 9.5 times out of 9 this year, I've given someone a random number when they ask how old I'll be. Once or twice I've happily explained how my grandchildren will be coming to the jubilee. So I guess you just never can tell.
Anywho, I am now 23 years old! Huzzah! I think I'll make puppy-eyes and whine at Big Sis until she makes me birthday cupcakes or something.
With each passing year, however, I am made to think of my writing goals. The big one is to have Ze Book published before my 25th birthday. Or at least to have Ze Book being published by my 25th year. That means I've got exactly two years left. I figure if I keep up a good pace, I can have Ze Book written and ready for the presses halfway into 2011. From there, however, it's a mad dash trying to get someone to read and become obsessed with it to the point that they make the investment of publication.
It's a long path ahead of me, but I'm thrilled. I love what I do with the words and the pages and the stories and all that stuff. It's the most frustrating and invigorating thing I've ever done. Unless we're counting that thing with the Rubiks Cube and the crocodiles. But that's a whole different birthday story.
Well, I hope you all have a lovely day, because I sure as heck will :)
Since moving in with the Hendersons (composed of XX-year old Sandi, XX-year old Dustin, 6 year-old Eliza and 5-year-old Ethan) my horizons have expanded. Nay, blossomed. Belay that ‘nay,’ expanded. I’ve eaten things that have previously disturbed me, made leaps and bounds in my toddler-level writing career, and participated in various heathen rituals that I shan’t go into at this time due to various contracts.
I’ve also learned things about myself as a person which I simply hadn’t cared to know before. How much money am I really willing to spend to allow myself some freedom? (At least enough to cover rent). Why do I really want to graduate from college? (Because I can). Where did I leave my keys? (My nephew hid them in his shoes as a joke). Exactly how much of a nerd am I? (Judging by the fact that I can have lucid conversation with my Broinlaw* about Star Wars and when people will make it to Mars, a pretty big one).
I’m also learning how to DO new things. Like cooking. Sort of. Slowly. Sandi and Dustin are both very good cooks; living with them has resulted in my palatial boundaries broadening and my waistline slowly shrinking (yay!). The fact that I used to consider Fuddruckers to be borderline gourmet apparently bothered them, and in hopes of having a Broinlaw of their own someday, have made the staggering decision to try and teach me their ways. Working full time and trying to get Ze Book finished has made the process slow, but I’ve picked up a few tips already. Like steak being seared, or whatever.
What inspired all of this semi-philosophizing? The other night, Sandi and I had what may well be our second real argument. The fact that it was pretty much forgotten five minutes later says great things about our relationship, but the way it got started and the way it was carried out was very informative about how different we are as people. Belay that; how different we are as…actually, no, ‘people’ works fine.
The argument was about a piece of writing by our friend, Amber. We had completely different views on it, though we agreed it was well written and could have a huge market. Any pretense and mature debate went out the window pretty fast, and the really steamy part of the discussion went something like this:
(the red-head that pops in is probably Dustin)
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I do, you just don’t like that I disagree with you and-“
“No, you’re just interpreting it wrong!”
“Shut up!”
“You can’t say stuff like that and not expect to be interrupt-“
“YOU’VE BEEN INTERRUPTING ME ALL NIGHT!”
It’s funny looking back at it, and really we were laughing most of the way through anyway. That’s one of the wonderful things about being snarky, even a bitter feud over a friend’s short story is humorous.
But later, it got me thinking about how different Sandi and I are (and how good of a thing it is that we agree on almost everything, considering how ugly it is when we don’t).
You see, Sandi and I both have creative aspirations (okay, okay, SHE has a creative career, whilst I have creative aspirations). But they manifest in very different ways. Sandi is like the ship's captain, military-clean, ornately simple and absolutely sure of her own style. She rules a ship of stiff upper lips and unyielding perfection; it is a beautiful ship and, obviously, very successful.
I, on the other hand, am the lacksadaisical beach bum who watches the ship sail off to uncharted regions. I've got my jungle behind me, and have created my tree fort and monkey lounge area which can be taken apart and wiggled around for other purposes with the same function of a swiss army knife. I know what I want to create, and a big part of that is leaving some elbow-room for others to take from it what they will.
Perhaps that's why I'm into the writing thing, and Sandi's into the fabric designing thing. Or perhaps I've got it all wrong.
Either way, I'm glad for the influence the Henderson Clan has had on me. And I'm glad that I did eventually find my keys.
*Broinlaw: Brother-in-Law, one who is considered an inseperable part of one’s family, rather than the sort one secretly hopes will choke on their wedding toast drink and quickly be replaced.
