On Language or something like that.

On writing and cover letters.

My roommate and I have a very special relationship. You see we are both kind of quite insane. And we occasionally feel the need to share our insanity with the world, for posterity, or something like that.

Bobby, Jess (from Ink Spot Plot) Me, and our friend Annie 

So we post these things called Sara and Bobby's on facebook. Typically they are conversations that we have...like for example: 

Sara and Bobby on Baking: 

Sara: What? I put a cupcake wrapper where it belongs and you complain about cleaning.
Bobby: The wrapper was on the floor.
Sara: Exactly. Where it belongs.
Bobby: [facepalm]

Which ended in (facebook comments):
Sara : I said I admit I was the messy one- I just say I clean sometimes too. Just because I leave things where they go. and you are neurotic doesnt mean you do all the cleaning
Bobby Aaaah... you must have forgotten the agreement we made upon moving in where we said our messes would remain contained in our room. :P
Sara Um...it is in my room.
Sara  after you put it in my room

Or pehaps Sara and Bobby on Generocity: 

Sara: You're cousins left bacon in the fridge.

Bobby: Do you want to go to the diner or eat in?
Sara: I can do either or, what do you want to do mister sicky?
Bobby: Let's go to the diner so I can spread my plague. I have to make as many people as possible, as miserable as I am.

Sara and Bobby on Coupons: 

Sara: I just got a twenty-seven dollar steak for thirty-two dollars.

Bobby: [blank stare]

Of course, every now and again we do Sara and Bobby Quote of the Day: 

"Sara, if you want to find a job, you're going to have to be as least like yourself as possible."

That, was in regards to a cover letter. Well, my attempt to write a cover letter. First, let me begin by saying cover letters are stupid. And perhaps the second most stressful thing in my life right now, right after my job. You see, I cannot manage to write like a grown up. I'm not talking grammar or spelling, although trust me, those are typically quite bad (and adult like). But I'm talking more, subject mater.

I cannot seem to manage to keep the "me" from seeping in, and we all know (hopefully) that I don't take myself seriously. Like, at all.

I include lines like "To reiterate, but not repeat my resume"...Cause you know, your just repeating the information in a different way. I know it, the person reading the cover letter knows it, why not just mock the system, just a little bit, while following the rules.

The other issue is that I like playing with language. I mean, most mummery in the form of mischief is at least a little mocking (not the best example).

So, with that I'll stop while I'm behind, before I start to rhyme.

Hope you enjoyed the Sara's and Bobby's...

Prepare for a personal over-share.

I carb load when I'm stressed. This is not a secret. Pretty much anyone who has ever seen me stressed knows this. And when I say I carb load I don't mean I eat a baked potato. I mean, I eat four doughnuts, three cookies, two brownies, and a piece of cake, in an afternoon...or I eat ice cream and m n m's for lunch, or I buy six boxed of girl scout cookies, then go to dinner at five guys, and eat all of the fries, and a bacon cheese burger. Oh, and if your curious, I did all of these things last week.

Its kind of ridiculousness how much I stress eat. Or how much I eat when stressed. Not only is my stress eating/binge eating exceptionally horrible, its also quite unhealthy. So, I've come to a conclusion. My job is killing me.

It's making my stress worse.  The thing is, I used to love my job, back in my old position. I never felt like I had to much to do, I never felt like I was set up to fail. But back in September, I switched positions (get your head out of the gutter). I didn't get a pay raise, I did get a drastic increase in my workload, and a new boss, who is micro-manager.

So, I've come to a conclusion. For my waistline, and my sanity, and probably my heart, I've started to look for a new job.

What that means for you? Well, odds are I wont be posting as much, or probably as long of posts. Cover letters are a bitch to write, and probably as stressful as my current job situation. So as I apply for new jobs, and hopefully I will find something soonish, the economy is supposed to be picking up right? Expect for me to write a few shorter posts (I'm gonna try to stick to my twice a week sun-wed schedule).

Sara

p.s. If you want to volunteer to edit a cover letter/resume I will love you forever.

11 things you NEVER wanted to know about me.

So, I was tagged in this 11 question thing by Jess Stork and Elizabeth Seckman...so rather than answering 22 questions, I decided to do 6 from Jess and 5 from Elizabeth. Plus that gave me the added option of not answering the ones that I didn't have good answers too. I'm boring you know.

1. What food can you not stand to eat?

I am a food disposal. I eat all the food. That being said, I'm not a huge fan of brain...but I'll eat it. 

2. What was your favorite book as a child?

Define Child? I Loved the Enchanted Forest Chronicles when I was in sixth grade. Prior to that I read mostly non-fiction...I loved that book about the little girl that went around with a tiger, although I might be making that up.  

3. Which author would you like to ask 11 questions? (Dead or alive.)

Hmm...probably Tolkin. 

4. If you were an evil villain, what would your villain name be? (Sorry, I kind of have villains on the brain right now.)

Puck. Probably. I like to cause mischief. 

5. What toy could you not be separated from as a child?

Outside. I don't remember being particularly attached to a particular toy. I do remember being outside, all the time. We had a swing set in the back yard, and all the neighborhood kids would come and play on it. Those were great times. That and My Little Ponies. 

6. If you woke up in the morning and found out it was a snow day/blizzard and you had the day off from work... what would you do?

Write, Read, Knit, Sleep. In some varying order. Although I would be expected to work from home...so I dont know how much, writing/sleeping/knitting I would actually get done.

7. What is your favorite memory?

You know, I really dont have a good answer to this one. I have so many truly awesome memories, but I also dont know if they really translate well to the written word...so I'll just throw out a few:

Doing serpantines at a canter on DD complete with flying lead changes at 13.

Taking apart the steering column of my first car because I wanted to figure out how it worked at 14

Making my mom promise to stay sober for a year, at 18.

Lauren telling me she was clean, and me believing her at 22.

Realizing my family would never be normal, but realizing I was okay with it at 26.

8. Favorite holiday and why?

Thanksgiving, food and family. Who could ask for more. My family is Jewish, so we dont celebrate Christmas/Easter. We do all get together for Thanksgiving though. Plus there is football, plus its always right around my birthday

9. Scariest moment in life?

I dont feel like I have a good one for this either.

Watching the river water rise, while trying to get my younger sister off the low ledge in the forest behind our house at 6.

Deciding I wasn't going home again at 16.

Going home again, after my first semester in college at 18.

Two guys/men/people trying to shove me in the back seat of a car at 22.

Moving to DC at 23.

10. Kindle or paper book?

Both. Thats an answer, right? I love my nook for commuting (on the train) but I like reading paper backs when I'm in bed.

11. If you could have only one...which would you pick...perfect weight for the rest of your life or 1 book on the best seller list?

Book on the best seller (as long as I got one guaranteed, but the potential for others you've got to be careful jins are tricky creatures.)

Now I'm supposed to tag a bunch of other people, but I'm just going to leave this open...if you want to answer the following questions go ahead. (and email me so I can link to you) if not, then dont:

1) If you could change one law, what would it be and why?
2) If you could say one thing to anyone, without any consequences, what would you say, and to whom?
3) What is your biggest fear?
4) Who is your favorite super hero?
5) What is your favorite color?
6) What is your most embarrassing moment
7) If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?
8) Dead or alive, who would you most want to meet?
9) If you could talk to the President (prime minister etc) what would you say?
10) If you had to have a paranormal ability or disability, what would you want to have and why?
11) If you could turn into an animal (but only one) what would you want to turn into and why?

p.s. I got called in to substitute teach "Civics Boot Camp" Sun-Thursday so if I've not been commenting, I'm sorry...12+ hour days leave me tired...plus have you ever tried to teach the difference between de-regulization and decriminalization? 

Memoirs of a Crack Family: News

At the risk of sharing way more than you ever wanted to know about my absurdly ridiculous family...I've got to tell you all about something that happened the other day.

My phone rang, and I saw that it was my baby sister calling me. My heart stopped.

My thought process went something like:
Oh no, she's pregnant.
Oh no, she's been arrested
Oh no, she's run away and is in DC...Oh no, she's in jail, in DC and pregnant.

Dani at 13

Now perhaps that reaction might be a bit unfounded, except for the fact that she has called me with every single one of those scenarios at one point or another. Well, not the in jail in DC and pregnant one.

You see, in addition to my entire family having a fairly flexible view of the law, we also tend to have a "you got yourself into it, get yourself out" attitude. This type of view was awesome because it fosters a since of true independence...as a kid I knew if I wanted to take horse back riding lessons, I had to find someone to pick me up and drop me off, I also had to figure out how to pay for the lessons myself. But, this lifestyle also has issues, in the sense that I learned fairly young, if I never ask for permission, it cant be denied.

Which is great, until you think about having teenagers running around, doing whatever they can figure out how to do, and the only consequences are, having to figure out how to get yourself out of trouble.

On top of all of these things, being the youngest comes with special issues of its own. She felt, probably subconsciously, that she had to out trouble all of her older siblings, and seeing as how I moved out when I was sixteen, the next youngest sister became a drug addict, and the next youngest sister dated a drug dealer...we set the bar kinda high.

So the, getting pregnant, arrested and running away seemed fairly run of the mill, but ever since the showing up in DC unannounced at fourteen, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So the phone rang (I've also got to add, she never calls me unless she is in trouble) and my heart stopped. And I decided, I had to answer it, because the only thing worse than knowing is not knowing. And I learned...that:

My baby sister got into her first choice college!

Dani (15), Keaton(foster bro), Mom & Dad

p.s. I've been tagged in the 11 question thing, so I'll probably post that on Monday, or Wednesday.

Boy, its getting hot in here...yet ironically, temps hit record lows

So…for another Bloghop! Welcome to It’s getting hot in here, hosted by Cassie May and Hope Roberson. Please go check out other blogs in this hop. 

I am not a romance writer; in fact I’m not even all that romantic of a person. Kissing scenes are something I REALLY struggle with. So I welcome critique in this...in fact I beg for it. (hands and knees here. But don't go getting ideas)

This is a scene that I’ve barely worked on, in fact in the original manuscript it read something like.

Now they kiss (REWRITE LATER)

So here we go:

***

“Leni” Damien snapped, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her back against the wall, rougher than he intended “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Leni answered, “let go.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you rushing back? He was probably making it up anyway.” Damien lied. Fitzroy had moved ahead with the plan. The next step was to deliver her.

“It’s my home.” Leni answered shrugging.

Damien clenched his jaw. He slipped a finger under the collar of her shirt, pulling the neckline to the side, off her shoulder. “A home that does this to you?” Damien asked, trying to hide his contempt, revealing the long slender scar that ran along her collar bone. “I know a lash mark when I seen one Leni. And this isn’t the only one.”

Leni shoved him, hard. “You don’t understand.”

Damien grabbed her wrist, “A home that makes you wear this, this torture device.” He said, fingering the silver chain around her wrist, as it cut into his finger.

“You don’t understand.” Leni repeated.

“Than explain,”

“What do you care?” Leni shouted at him, ripping her wrist away, shoving him, forcing him to take a step back. “They have kept me alive since I was four. I am fed. I am clothed. I have more—“

“Stop!” Damien yelled, pushing her back against the wall, again. He took a deep controlled breath. His fingers pressed against her shoulders. He felt her skin through the thin blouse, realizing she left her cloak inside, and it was snowing again. It’s a job; he told himself, looking down at her, it’s just another job.

She shuddered, eyes turning down.
“You’re cold” he whispered. She seemed so small. Most of the time, when she was being difficult, Damien could forget how slight she was.

“Damien. I--”she let her voice trail off as he brushed some of her hair out of her eyes, and kissed her forehead.

Damien hesitated, waiting for her to pull away, like always.

Don’t do this, he thought, you’ll crush her.

She bit her lip.

You’re a fool, he told himself, as his hands slid down her back, feeling the slightly raised skin from hundreds of overlapping scars. He tilted his head down, lips brushing against hers. Damien paused, you can still stop, he thought. He waited for her to pull away, or say something, but she didn't. He pressed his lips against hers. Her hands slid across his chest, but she didn’t push away. Stop, he screamed to himself, before it’s too late. But she responded, kissing him back, lips locked together. Moving in sync.

Abruptly she pushed hard against his chest. He lifted his head slightly, touching his forehead to hers. She knows, he thought in a moment of panic, feeling his heart race under her hand.

“I need air.” She whispered.

“Then breath.” He replied. He pulled her towards him again, kissing her. This is beyond redemption, he told himself, not caring.

***

A little explanation about what has happened prior to this scene. Leni just found out the temple she has lived in for most of her life has been banned, all practitioners arrested for hearsay and murder. Any who resisted were killed.

She had been off on a job with Damien, who actually works for the person who ordered the ban.

p.s. I’ll be around to read and comment tonight or Wednesday. I got called off to go edumacate the Youth of America in government and politics…pray for the children. It’s all I ask. Well, you could probably keep me in your thoughts as well. I get 25 High school students for the day. There are two goals, do not loose or kill any students (counts as one rule because killing students is technically loosing them) and hopefully teach them something.

p.p.s GO Forth and check out other blogs, Please. Here is the link again.

p.p.p.s I found this picture online and found it oddly perfect for this.

I'm Hearing Voices: Emotional Flash

I’d like to start out by thanking Cassie and Angie for hosting this. The I'm hearing voices blog hop has been so much fun.  I’ve read so many awesome blogs in the past few days, and Wednesday was especially awesome. I had a bad day on Wednesday, but any time I found myself with a few minutes I would go to the hop and check out another blog, and they would make the day a little better.

So I again want to thank Cassie and Angie for hosting this, and without further ado I will present my final challenge. Hope you enjoy, and feel something:

*   *   *

"Do it" Fitzroy whispered.

A tear ran down Quinndalin’s face, simple, cold. She went to brush it away, her fingers touched the wetness. Confused. She had cried before, when the wind was harsh, or when the man had struck her, before Fitzroy. There was no reason for this tear.

She looked at the form lying on the bench. Leni’s eyes were closed, she looked asleep. Quinndalin knew better.

"Quinn?"

Quinndalin looked at Fitzroy. She loved him. It wasn't a question anymore. It wasn't a thought of longing, just a simple truth. Every fiber of her being felt an inexplicable desire to be with him.

Quinndalin knew what she was supposed to do. It was as easy as breathing. Easier than speaking. All she had to do was reach inside, to where the pain lay, the tingle of her magic, and focus it on Leni. She had done it before. When Fitzroy had brought her to this room.

They screamed. They screamed for days. Bodies arching in pain, as the magic ripped through them. Big men, strong, until they stopped screaming, then they stopped moving, not even to breath. One lasted three days, and she didn’t even get tired. But this was different.

Leni could look at Quinndalin and know exactly what she was feeling. Leni had put a word to it, a new word. Trust.

Leni didn’t open her eyes, “It’s okay Quinn,” she whispered, “I forgive you.”

Quinndalin released the energy, pondering this new word, forgive, and Leni screamed.

*   *   *

I hope you felt something. Let me know if you didn't, or can think of anyway's to improve it. I always love some constructive criticism. 

I really hope you enjoyed it. Quinn is very difficult to express emotion's in, she is somewhat sociopathic, in the fact that she doesn't feel emotions the way everyone else does. At the beginning of the novel she knew five words. No, yes, maybe, pain and please. 

So I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks again for stopping over. Now, please go check out other blogs in the hop! Here is the link again LINK! (I hope I didn't shoot myself in the foot for going for subtle) 

Dialogue Introduction: I'm Hearing Voices

For Character introduction post in the I'm Hearing Voices blog hop, I decided to have Leni & Damien introduce themselves. I knew I was going to use these two as soon as I read the prompt. They are to fun to write dialogue for! Why might you ask? Well I'll let them show you.

The blog hop is hosted by two fabulous bloggers Angie at Live to Write, Edit When Necessary  and Cassie at Reading Writing and Loving It. So read my post, then go check out the others.

Leni and Damien, you have been summoned here. Please behave, and introduce one another:

Leni: "This is Damien he is a mercenary"
Damien: "Your supposed to be introducing me, and that's the best you can do? That's like me saying, this is Leni, she is an assassin."
Leni: "I am not an assassin"
Damien: "You kill people for money."
Leni: "No I don't"
Damien: "Yes you do."
Leni "Well then, why don't I have any money?"
Damien: "Just cause you don't get money from killing doesn't mean you don't kill for money."
Leni "Fine, I was an assassin."
Damien "Oh yes I forgot, you want to be an apple farmer now."
Leni: "No I don't."
Damien: "Well then, what do you want to do?"
Leni: "I don't know, I'm probably going to be dead after next weeks sacrifice anyway, so why does it matter."
Damien: "It doesn't, I was just pointing out the flaw in calling me a mercenary. You know, one day you're going to have to stop relying on being dead to not make plans."
Leni "Maybe, but I dont have to worry about that until after the sacrifice, and you do fight people for money."
Damien: "No, I did fight people for money, now I'm unemployed." (Now Damien is lying--he isn't unemployed he is working for Leni's enemy but she doesn't know it)
Leni: "Fine, I amend my introduction. This is Damien and he is an idiot."
Damien: "I'm the idiot? Your the one who goes running into trouble without thinking twice about it."
Leni: "I can take care of myself."
Damien: "Yes, I know. Thats why I've had to save you so many times."
Leni: "You save me? I wouldn't need saving if you didn't come behind me causing trouble in the first place."
Damien: "I think we need to change the subject."
Leni: "Fine."
Damien: "Dont you want to tell people how hansomly good looking I am?"
Leni: "Not particularly."

Okay, I'm over my word limit, so I'm gonna cut them off. I pulled Leni and Damien out of around about the middle of the story before Damien betrays her. They have been thrown together by Fitzroy who is trying to asses Leni's abilities, and keep her out of trouble. Damien is pretty happy go lucky, while Leni is a bit more stubborn and fatalistic. But hopefully you got that from their dialogue, and not me telling you about them. 

Do you have characters you like to write dialogue for?  

What do you think these two characters look like? I was curious what you guys would think since I didn't include any physical description. 

p.s. if you want more Leni and Damien go check out Pride and Dialogue 

p.p.s. Go check out other blogs in the hop! Here's the link again LINK

I'm hearing voices: Characters on the Couch!

This is for the I'm hearing voices blog hop that Cassie is hosting over at Reading, Writing & Loving it So go check out other blogs on the hop (after reading mine of course).

I went back and forth for a while on which character to sit down on the couch today, I have a few that are fairly uncooperative, especially when it comes to talking. But after a while I decided on Fitzroy, for a few reasons. Fitzroy is my villain, but he really isn't a bad guy, he just sees things a little different from the way everyone else does. He does things because he thinks they are necessary for the greater good. The issue that I've been having with him lately is that, I dont really believe him. So I thought this would be a good chance to try to flush out some of his personality.

So without further ado:

Fitzroy looked suspiciously around the room, blue eyes darting from place to place. His wavy hair neatly falling just short of his shoulders, he was tall, and slender, wiry muscles hinted beneath the tunic. He wore the latest court style in cut, but the clothes were muted in color, with a sword hanging in its scabbard at his side.

“You wanted to speak to me?” He asked?

“Yes, I’ve got some questions, for a blog post.”

“I’m to busy for this.” Fitzroy snapped.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you will sit down and answer these questions.”

“Fine.”

“What is your biggest vulnerability? Do others know this or is it a secret?”

“Vulnerabilities are things you exploit in other people. You can’t have vulnerabilities if you don’t let yourself care about people. “ Fitzroy answered

“What do people believe about you that is false?”

“That I killed my father. I didn’t kill him, or order him killed. In his own way he was a good man, harsh, but still good.” (FYI he is lying here. He did kill his father, kinda)

“What would your best friend say is your fatal flaw? Why?”

“I don’t really have a best friend. Damien is probably the closest I have, although he works for me. He would probably say Quinndalin. Although she isn’t exactly a fatal flaw, of course, he could also say that I don’t consider consequences, but that’s just because I don’t tell him everything.”

“What would that same friend say is your most redeeming quality”

“Probably my intellect. Although, just because of his bizarre since of loyalty he might say that.”

“What do you want the most? What would you do to get it?”
“I want stability. It’s too easy for the current system to fall apart, the church is fragmented, the different temples bicker amongst themselves, and the congress of lords is just as bad. I wont let anything get in the way, I expect resistance, and I expect the cost to be high, but if we do nothing now, everything will be destroyed. “

“Okay, you can go now.” 

So there you go. This is Fitzroy. You will meet Damien and probably Quinndalin later, although Quinndalin is difficult to write, more because she is almost entirely non-verbal. 

Now run along! Go Check out other blogs on the blog hop. Do it! Please?

A Hairy Insecure Writers Group Post

I woke up Saturday morning, and decided I really didn’t want to get out of bed. This is normal, however, I didn’t want to get out of bed for the normal reasons, like going to work, or my bed is really warm and outside of the bed is really cold. It was for a more simple reason, although perhaps a more silly reason. You see, I didn’t want to get out of bed and go out into the world and do things, because I didn’t want to wash my hair, or brush my hair, or do all of the crazy shit that I have to do with my hair every day. You see, my hair was almost down to my butt.

And that’s a lot of hair, that much hair takes a long time to take care of, and I am an exceptionally lazy person. You might be wondering what that has to do with being an insecure writer, but I’m getting there.

lots of hair!

So, when I finally convinced myself to get out of bed, I also decided, if I was too lazy to wash/brush my hair, it was too long. So I called the Aveda institute, and asked if they had any cancelations, made an appointment, walked in and said, “Cut 14 inches off”. Why 14 inches? Well, because 10 is the minimum to donate, I figure at least a few of those extra four inches are damaged, or shorter than the rest, because the only person who had cut my hair, for the last two years, was me, and I’m not even a beauty school dropout. History degrees aren’t worth much in general, let alone worth anything that makes you qualified to cut hair.

After the student stylist cut the fourteen inches off, gave them back to me to mail to locks for love, she asked me what I wanted to do with my now shoulder length hair. I told her, do whatever she thought would look good, as long as it would be easy to take care of (see lazy person). So she did something with layers and bangs, and blow dried my hair.

I’m exceptionally happy, for many reasons, mostly because it took me like five minutes to wash my hair this morning, rather than the thirty it used to take. But then, there is another unexpected side effect. Cutting fourteen inches of hair off made me really love my hair. I mean, I always loved my hair; you would have to for it to get that long. It was a good color and a good texture, and for the most part cooperative, and I would get compliments on it. Yet, I apparently was letting it have a bad effect on the way I viewed myself, and I didn’t even know it. Mostly because introspective is on the long list of things I suck at, right between able to hold still and grace.

I think as people (yes writers are people too, mostly) we all have things we are insecure about. Things that don’t make us feel great, or even okay about ourselves, superficial silly things. Like weight, and our noses, and our sixth toe on our right foot. Too often I read fiction where the main character is pretty/beautiful/thinks she’s average looking but has like four guys fighting over her (Hunger Games I’m looking at you), or the near cliché of the mean girl being blond and beautiful. Maybe I should stop reading Young Adult fiction…or maybe we can use this to make ourselves better writers, and maybe we will get to the point where our Main Characters can actually be average looking. Or maybe not.

You heard me right, use your insecurities! Or at least give them to your characters. Perhaps your friends keep telling you that you look like a drug addict because your too skinny, but when you look in the mirror you see a fat person...I’m not saying that’s healthy, that actually might be obsessively insecure, but that’s a real human issue, and if you give it to your characters maybe they can become real humans too. It will be like that scene in   Pinocchio when he becomes a real boy…except it’s a bit harder than waving a magic wand around. 

I’m not saying it’s easy. But what I am saying is that insecurity is part of being human, writing characters is part of being a writer, human characters help make you a good writer.

So, what are you insecure about?

p.s. Go Check out the Insecure Writers Group Its awesome. There are so many great writers out there, and great blogs to check out, and its still growing.