The hurdles of being me.

There are many hurdles in life. Some are easy and some are painfully difficult. Whether it be a death of someone you love or the cold hard fact of never being that size 2 you were in high school, they are all hurdles. I often wish for the old days when hurdles were the size of curbs but in all honesty, those hurdles were when we were under the age of 10. Once we reached the ripe old age of 11, the hurdles grew to fences we couldn't hop over without a boost. Trust me, I tried to and ended up in handcuffs with three of my best friends in the back of a squad car.

My hurdles these days aren't really that difficult now. I try to see the good in each day I am given. Because in all seriousness, there is always something good in your day. I could choose to ignore them or I could embrace them for what they are. Little pieces of joy that made me laugh or smile.

For years I was a rejected wannabe author. Every query letter I sent out was rejected with a, "Not for me," reply. I understood the industry. I didn't like it but I understood it. It was just another hurdle I needed to jump over and no matter how many times I fell flat on my face, I still took another running start for it again. When I finally cleared that hurdle and ran for the next, it felt good. Clearing that hurdle meant I was rejected but requested. Rejection still hurts but being able to say that I'm requested too numbs it a bit. You can't go through life without a little rejection to knock you back to earth.

People in my life, whether they be men or women, have always put me on a tall pedestal. It's not something I resent but it is something I wish didn't happen. I'm not perfect. I cry when I'm sad. I smile when I'm happy. I pee my pants sometimes when I laugh. It's a long drop from my pedestal and when I fall, it hurts.

I got another request yesterday and I'm still racing toward that next hurdle. I don't mind if I fall flat on my face. Here's my biography. As an unpublished writer, my biography is short but in some ways it is long too. The agents don't care that I'm a brunette or have been writing since I could pick up a pencil. They just don't care.

My biography is short and simple. I am a daughter, a mother, a wife and a friend. Charles M. Schulz was once quoted, “Big sisters are like the crab grass in the lawn of life.” He was an only child and probably needed introducing to a few thousand little sisters. I am also a little sister.

I read this to my husband last night and what he said had the potential to really bug the crap out of me but I decided to see the good in it.

Him: You are so much more than that. You come across as boring and you are anything but boring.

Me: Thank you but they don't care.

Him: I do though. I want you to know that after each of those descriptions, there is an entire essay about how good you are at every one of them.

Me: Yah, but they don't care.

Him: Well, I guess you're right about that if that got someone interested but just imagine how interested they would be if they knew exactly who you were.

Me: Seriously, they don't care.

Him: Yah, you said that already. I just hope one of these days you get to actually say who you are and then you'll see that I'm right.

Me: Thank you. But seriously, they don't care.

Him: Oh shut up! You need to add on to that biography that you're a pain in the ass.

Me: I did. I said I was a wife.

And ladies and gentlemen, I am a pain in the ass. If I wasn't, I would've never started jumping those hurdles when I turned 11.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.

What do I do now?

Okay, those that know me understand my obsessive behavior. I'm a moody girl that can change in a flash. Trust me, my husband really does love me. I haven't quite figured out why but I'll take what I can get. So here I was about four weeks ago, writing another manuscript. I could, on a good day, averaged 5,000 words in the manuscript. I was shooting for a full novel at 80,000 words. I did it in three weeks. I'd write like a maniac all day and when my husband got home, I'd stop. Hey, someone had to cook dinner and pay attention to the money-maker in the family. My best friend, who is my brother-in-law came down for a visit and I still got in some writing. I'd wake up early and write until the bedroom door opened.

So, I'm done. I love the manuscript and I even whipped out a query letter. Not so hard when you're on your second manuscript. I was such a virgin before but my cherry's been popped and I'm on it now. I even discovered a new style of writing that I got into. I'd like to call it quirky, yet not annoying. Even tried writing in past tense instead of present tense. LOVED THAT! I discovered I could write a book where all the characters were liked and I could even write some suspense. I discovered that when the people that read my rough manuscript called halfway through their read threatening, "It better not be..."

Okay, so here I am, wondering what to do now? Usually I'd put the completed manuscript high up and unreachable and let it stew. Kind of like marinating. I've gotta forget about it and do something else. I've got countless ideas in my head for a new manuscript. Should I start another one? Should I put the love I have for this last manuscript on hold and just pound away at the keyboard with another one? I did that last time and stopped because I'm obsessive.

And also, I've given this rough manuscript out to a bunch of people. Most I truly love and most I'm starting to love again. Facebook is my reunion center! And I'm not stupid enough not to get that these people are saying they love my book because they don't have the fangs of real critics but they all like the parts I loved. I can't be crazy enough to think that if they're excited about the parts I was excited about, they're not loving it to be nice. Right?

Oh, another pointless rant about nothing. I know but I think I'll just chalk this up to moody AND annoying. I've gotta hit the bookstore today and get the new Sookie Stackhouse book. Surprisingly, I'm obsessed with vampire books and I don't write about vampires. I'm not that good! Maybe I'll start another manuscript...that oughta piss Sparkman off. Or on top of being pissed, it might actually kick him in the butt to finally start on his "Work in Progress" that he teased me with months ago but hasn't finished!!!!!! I completely understand how being a stay-at-home mother with plenty of free time can't possibly compare to being a working man with an actual job...get on it Sparkman! I wanna find out if Harbor is a transvestite!



If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.