1. An artist
2. A soloist
3. A football fanatic
4. A size zero
5. An evil overlord
6. A henchman
7. An oenophile
8. A jazz enthusiast
9. A mathematical genius
10. A snooty post-modern deconstructionist

And you?

Every year when NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) rolls around, I stand on the sidelines like an outcast kid, watching while everyone else gets to play. Because let’s face it — if there’s an inconvenient month to write 50,000 words, it’s November. (Actually, 50,000 words is nowhere near convenient, no matter the month.) That’s why when I found out that the New Zealand group Kiwi Writers claimed June for their own novel-writing month, I waited and debated and finally signed up. June’s still a busy month (and, blast it, it still has only 30 days instead of 31 like some months I could name — yes, I’m looking at you, January), but at least it doesn’t contain Thanksgiving and Christmas preparations. Not that I have cause to whine, since I’m cheating anyway; I only have about 43,000 words to go on my current book, instead of 50,000. Even that means 1,434 words per day, however, with no days off. I’m nervous and excited and already counting down the days until July.

Pain, suffering, and daily writing sound like a good way to spend the next month? If so, check out the Southern Cross Novel Challenge (SoCNoC). It’s free, and includes access to forums with a wealth of resources and plenty of people to encourage you. You can even friend people, since this is the age of social networking. (My user name is caryn.) Plus you don’t have to be a Kiwi, since New Zealanders are a welcoming sort.

Even if you don’t join, feel free to throw a few tips my way in the comments for this post. I could use some. (And, no, Don’t do it! doesn’t count.)

In other news, I seem to remember that there was a contest on here a few days ago, for which debut author Jess Riley donated a copy of her new book Driving Sideways. Well, this afternoon Random.org declared Ilana Stephens the winner! Please visit her blog and congratulate her. And if you haven’t picked up your own copy of Driving Sideways, rush right out and grab one because it’s a wonderful read.

P.S. Someone e-mailed me today (Tuesday) using the link on the left-hand sidebar. My stats tell me that they filled out the form, sent it, and got the thank-you screen, so I know it wasn’t spam. However, I had an e-mail glitch (which is now fixed, thank goodness!) and did not receive it. Could you please try again? I don’t handle suspense well, and I’m dying of curiosity. I just know you were writing to tell me I won a million dollars or you want to give me a book deal or something. That’s it, right? Right?

I’ve decided not to blog today. I thought I’d announce this decision, so you’d know that you were being neglected, instead of just suspecting it. It’s a beautiful May morning, and I plan to enjoy it. But just so you know what you’re missing, I’ll fill you in on a few things you will won’t learn on here today.

I won’t share my new secret knowledge: ring-billed gulls (commonly — though incorrectly — known as “seagulls”) practice kung fu when we’re not looking. Maybe I’ll mention it another time instead. If it comes up.

If only I were blogging today, I could mention in passing that hubs requested a pie in the face for his birthday and a rutabaga for Christmas, and now I’m terrified and intrigued — what will he ask for next? But since I’m busy elsewhere, I will be forced to disclose that tidbit another time.

On this fine morning, I will not share my suspicions that Echo the Cat looks like an Olsen Twin. This is especially clear in the link I would post if I were posting a photo to back up this information which I will not share today. Which I’m not. Or something. Now I’m all confused…

I hereby refuse to admit that our other two cats are unusually close. Often.

On a day like today, when many of you are probably hard at work on your novels, it would be far too embarrassing to reveal that I take pictures of random objects when I have writer’s block. Much better for you to suspect that I dedicate 100% of my attention to my book whenever I’m not at work or blogging.

And, because I’m afraid of public humiliation, I will never — today or any other day — reveal that I refer to this picture as “Cactus Itt” and am desperate to take scissors to the plant’s shagginess. I fear you might disagree or, worse, laugh at me.

So there you go. I bet you feel as if you’re really missing out, with scintillating topics like these available if only I were willing to take the time. Maybe on a day when there aren’t flowers to enjoy and books to write,  and cats to tease, I will go more in-depth. Or perhaps not. In the meantime, if you’re feeling bereft of bloggie tidbits, I suppose you could always stop by my photoblog, Playing with Pixels. To navigate through the album, just click the right or left side of each picture to go backwards or forward, respectively, or use the arrows beneath. Or, if you haven’t done so already, read the post below and then enter to win an autographed and personalized copy of Jess Riley’s hilarious and poignant debut novel Driving Sideways. Or find some other way to entertain yourself. You’re resourceful; I can tell that about you.

Author Jess Riley stopped by to share a little background on her new book Driving Sideways, which officially went on sale this morning. I’ve been a long-time reader of Jess’s blog, and am happy to say that every bit of her humor and warmth carry over into her debut novel. (Yes, I already started reading my copy, and I’ve found myself both laughing out loud and sharing passages to the closest people, cats, or pieces of furniture because it’s that good.) Enjoy what she has to say here, and then keep reading to find out how you can buy or win your own copy of Driving Sideways.

People sometimes ask me how much research I did for Driving Sideways. And I reply, “Research? I was supposed to do research?”

I’m kidding of course. As one who has had neither kidney disease nor an organ transplant, I had to do a ton of research before I started writing. I also took the Driving Sideways roadtrip twice: once before writing the novel, and again after I had a publishing contract, just to make sure I got it right.

The second time I headed west, I met my gracious blogging host Caryn for lunch…she was so funny and charming and had the most beautiful hair. I’d been driving in a Toyota for more than thirty hours by then, and my hair was actively campaigning for reassignment to someone else’s head. But because she is quite possibly America’s Sweetheart, she didn’t seem to notice and invited me to guest blog on her site today. (Thanks Caryn!)

As I write this, there is just one calendar day before the book’s launch. Here are some of the thoughts that have been bouncing around my head a day before the book is finally released:

My handwriting has really deteriorated since the third grade. I just know I’ll sign someone’s book and later they’ll be like, “Who’s ‘Jeff Bubby?’”

I read three different excerpts to my Dad’s English classes at my alma mater, UW-Oshkosh, last Thursday. And I was shocked at how bawdy some of the humor is. Really, I would like to take a black marker to my grandmother’s copy. Also, the women planning the book launch party? They said this to me: “Yes! You were right about the bathroom humor! You’re so shy and genteel in person, and then we read the reference to the five-alarm bucket of chicken wings and the hives and it was like, WHOA!”

In case anyone asks, there are several reasons for this: 1) the main character, Leigh, struggles with a terminal illness and the accompanying surgeries, daily medications, and lifestyle changes. Thus, she is understandably obsessed with the human body and its various functions. Call it ‘morbid preoccupation.’ 2) Roadtrips can be exhausting and monotonous. After several hours in the car, your sense of humor can deteriorate to very basic levels. I think you know what I’m talking about. And, 3) I am a six year-old with severe ADD at heart.

Also, I have one last grant proposal to write some time in the next two weeks. Procrastination, I shake my fist at you!

I want to close by asking if any of YOU have any questions about the ‘behind the scenes’ of the publication process…I’ll check in a few times and do my best to answer. Thanks for reading and helping me celebrate release day!

Enjoy what Jess had to say? You can pick up copies of Driving Sideways and read more about it on the Random House website, from Amazon.com (complete with a preview of the first scene!), from Barnes & Noble, or at your local bookstore. Even Target’s got copies (online now, in stores on June 19th)!

Now, for what you really want to know: Just how can you, dear reader, win a free autographed and personalized copy of Driving Sideways for your very own? Just comment below and tell Jess and me why you want the book. Be creative, silly, or painfully honest — we want to know! All entries must be in by midnight M.S.T. next Monday, May 26th. I’ll post the results on Tuesday or Wednesday.

If you already have your own copy, feel free to comment anyway. Congratulate Jess, thank her for sharing her experiences, compliment her hair (which, for the record, is so much nicer than mine), ask questions, or just tell everyone else how great the book is.

Happy reading!

When I’m writing, I can spend the entire day trying to get those voices in my head to talk to me, tell me their stories. Whether or not it works, the moment I turn out my light and try to fall asleep, the characters inevitably come out to play.

I’m never sure whether to be delighted or annoyed. My ultimate reaction usually depends on how comfortable I am and how many sleeping cats are pinning me in place. Then there’s the spouse factor: after the final goodnights have been mumbled and we’ve lived in silence for several minutes, it’s just cruel to turn the light back on, no matter how great the dialogue in my head and how convinced I am that I will not remember it in the morning unless I record it right then and there. (Naturally, I still haven’t remembered to stock my flashlight in my nightstand, although I’ve learned never to be without a notebook and a pen. Which is why this whole thing was written in the dark. See?)

Of course, just because I succumb to pressure from my chatty characters or Dolores, my on-board narrator, it does not mean that the words were worth the shuffling and fumbling required to capture them on paper. Even if they are legible (at best, my handwriting is a poor imitation of cursive), when I’m in the zone of near-sleep my ability to judge writing quality is questionable.

Take, for example, the night when I absolutely, positively could not sleep no matter how I tossed and turned. If anything, my desperation only pushed that blissful unconsciousness further away. Finally, I settled into thinking about my book. You see, I had a character to name, and this seemed the perfect time to do so. In my sleep-deprived state, I decided that I wanted something unique, so I reached around for the most beautiful, unusual first name I could find. Once I settled on it, I was so happy that I knew I needed a last name to go with it. And so I thought and thought and finally came up with the perfect companion to that first name. It was so lovely, so wonderful, that I couldn’t wait to assign it to a character the next day. Since this was before I learned to keep a notebook handy, I committed it to memory, rolled over, and promptly fell asleep. When my alarm rang the next morning, I had the nagging thought that I was forgetting something. So I fished around in my memory for a while, and came up with it: the name. Only in daylight did I realize that I had, with no sense of irony whatsoever, named my character Dream McKnight. Sure, the name could work, but it would be the bane of the character’s existence, not something of which she could be proud.

With incidents like that, it’s no wonder I record my nighttime ramblings so reluctantly, even if I’m usually glad that I did so.

Ever get lost in your calendar and become convinced it’s another day? Several weeks ago I spent an entire Thursday sure it was only Tuesday. Every time I remembered, it was like this little bonus. Today, however, it didn’t work out so well, as it was Friday in my mind while everyone else was slogging through another Wednesday. Every hour or two something would happen to remind me that I was the one who was confused. The frequent jolts back to the Land of Reality were unpleasant at best.

If anything, this evening’s activities made the condition worse. Nothing says the weekend has arrived like an evening get-together on a friend’s back porch, complete with margaritas and snacks. I’m now at risk of not going in to work at all tomorrow morning, and have instructed one of my coworkers to call me if I don’t show up. I almost hope she doesn’t; I could use the sleep.

Please understand — I really like my job, and I love most of the people I work with. But, Lord help me, I do despise my alarm clock. And so I yearn for the weekend with every fiber of my being, just so that I can wake at dawn out of habit instead of obligation, which probably explains my confusion about the days — it is my body’s way of telling me I need a Saturday, no matter what the calendar says.

The chronological confusion has only worsened since our evening margarita consumption, not just because of the alcohol but because of an incident that occurred shortly afterward. Now I’m not even certain what year it is. 1989? 1991?

Here’s why, and this one’s really embarrassing, so be gentle. Turns out there’s a New Kids on the Block, version 2.0, complete with a group blog wherein each member signs his name with an exclamation point. (Yes! You, too, can read blog entries from Danny!, Jonathan!, Donnie!, and Joey Mac!! Isn’t it exciting!) They even have new music, which is where my chagrin kicks in, because to my everlasting shame I found myself almost sort of kinda tempted to tap my foot to “Summertime” when it played on the radio a few minutes ago. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to go buy the cassette tape and listen to it forty-eight times in a row like, uh, some people I know did during their first round of popularity. (Hey, I never claimed to be proud of my middle school years.) But it was kind of catchy. It also whisked me right back to the late eighties, a time I try not to visit all too often.

Before being reintroduced to NKOTB this evening I still knew what year it was, even if I couldn’t always pinpoint the day with 100% accuracy. Now I can’t even be certain of that much. At least I have music and margaritas to console me. Sing along with me, will you?

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=oqJYGakuIfU]

In an unprecedented — and totally warranted — act of aggression, I am about to use my current computer to purchase its replacement. We require little in a new system. In addition to the very basics, we’d settle for the following features, none of which our current beast has:

1) A monitor that does not make heavy breathing sounds.
2) Volume control that does not sweep up and down at the computer’s whim.
3) The ability to turn it on more than once a week.

Unfortunately, comparison shopping is tough because none of the above qualities are listed as options. I am hoping that means they are now standard, along with enormous hard drives, high-tech flat-screen monitors, and Vista, none of which we need but it seems we’re going to end up with anyway because all but the lowest-quality computers seem to have them now. (Note to self-appointed Mac missionaries: We are not getting one, so don’t bother suggesting it. Thank you.)

Alas, this means no new couch for us for a while, since that would make for a pretty scary credit card bill, but the Couch of Death affects me most when I’m also suffering from other allergies (way to kick me when I’m down), so things should get better here soon, and I’ll aim for finding a replacement by next spring instead.

And while we’re more or less still on the subject of computers (Ha! How’s that for a segue?), I have broken down and started another blog, because I quite CLEARLY do not have enough to do. See, much as I like to write, I have other hobbies, too. One of them is sleeping in. Another is eating cookies. And yet another is photography. Since the first two do not make for an interesting series of blog posts, I decided to create a photoblog. After all, as anyone who’s ever known a proud grandparent has learned, photos are more fun when you share them with strangers. Not having any grandkids, I’ve had to settle for taking photos of landscapes, flowers, and other elements of nature. As a nod to my inner grandparent, I’ve even indulged in a few cat photos, although I promise not to overwhelm.

I have eight or nine images on there right now, just to get started and give people an idea of what they’ll see, but I’ve scheduled many more; a new one will appear each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which is really a good deal compared to the biweekly updates on here.

If you’re curious, you can check out the blog, Playing with Pixels, at http://caryncaldwell.com/photos. To navigate, just click on the right-hand side of the picture to move through to the end of the album, or use the left and right arrows below. You can even subscribe to the RSS feed or receive email updates, just like for this blog, because I like to get fancy like that.

Good afternoon, class. Today’s lesson is on the importance of looking at your food before consuming it. To illustrate, we have a special guest appearance. This cheerful green pepper was sliced open by one of my coworkers during dinner preparations last autumn. Like the Virgin Mary Toast, all evidence of this miraculous occurrence would have been lost had she tossed the pepper core without a glance. Let us all have a moment to pause and reflect on the tragedy and waste so narrowly averted.

Thank you. I hope each and every one of you now understands why it is important to always look before you eat, or slice, or throw away your food. Any questions? Good. Class dismissed.

Now the details, since I know some will ask. First of all, I can vouch for the picture, since I’m the one who took it. That’s my desk underneath it, and my Christmas cactus blooming in the background. How could I not capture it on, uh, pixels, when presented with such a spectacle on a day when I happened to have my camera at work with me? The only retouching consisted of adjusting the lighting (too dark), sharpening (too blurry), rotating (too vertical), cropping (too big), and resizing (again, too big). You can trust me. I’m a writer. I may exaggerate, but I never lie. And, finally, if you’re having trouble getting your bearings, click here for a larger version of the above photo, or here to see the opposite side of the slice.