Today I went to Target. But that is not the point of this post (despite your NEED for me to tell you about the great bargain on shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese I found. Never mind that I got lavender hand wash refills, SCORE!).

As usual, I went to the books section to see if there was anything that was “Bookmarked” and therefore within my miniscule budget. And was hit with a pang of envy* so great I felt ill. Because my first, and only, book came out a long, long time ago, and there are authors represented on those shelves who write what I write, and are good, but of course I think I am as good, or I wouldn’t bother writing. And I got super-envious that they were pubbed, and I am currently not.

That makes me feel like a lesser person, honestly. I am ashamed, and normally I accept that I can be a snarkster of the highest order, poking fun at people I like to judge. But this is something that is dangerously not nice, and I like to feel that I am, at heart, a nice person (I dubbed myself the oxymoronic Nice Bitch in talking to the Alpha Sparkle Dog the other day).

So what do I have to do to get over myself?

Write something that will sell. Be patient with those things that are out there that have not yet been completely measured and judged. Be supportive of all of us authors, even though my heart kerclumps when I hear someone else got another contract. Because, hopefully, someday I’ll be that pubbed person, and I wouldn’t want anyone to be mad at ME when they’re in Target (unless I snagged the last 12-pack of Coke Zero, $2.75, thanks very much).

Megan

*In high school, six of my friends and I went to a Halloween party dressed as the Seven Deadly Sins. I was Envy; oddly enough, no-one wanted to be Sloth.

Yesterday was the much-vaunted Snow Day, and I took the Nine Year-Old out sledding. Now, normally I stay safely on top of the hill, happy that I am a Parent and thus do not have to sled.

But my guy is an only child who spends a lot of time with me, and likes doing stuff with me. He particularly likes it, being a kid after all, when I do non-Parent type things. Like sled.

So he and I spent almost two hours sledding in Prospect Park, and since we were on a steep hill preferred by teenagers and the feckless, we hit a lot of people with our sled. And were hit back. I tried to combat it with screaming as we went down the hill, sort of an aural warning system, but we still nailed quite a few sledders.

Honestly, once I got past the fact that I Really Don’t Like Sledding, Or Much Physical Activity in General (like, fun physical activity. I like the gym and I don’t hate running, but I don’t like playing sports), I had a blast. I decided that my guy wouldn’t have nearly as much fun if his mom was a pooky-face, so I whooped it up and was definitely, even admitting for my own bias, the most fun Parent on the hill.

The worst was walking home–we were both sodden, it was well below freezing, and we were over ten blocks from home. But it was worth it.

So I am taking that “Megan Is A Participant!” spirit into my writing, since I am trying to wrestle this novella into the ground, even though there is no deadline or anything. Because, as Steve Forbert said, “You cannot win if you do not play.”

Okay. I’m playing.

So I might’ve mentioned my freelance job just got harder–for no more pay (thanks, recession!), so it’s been even harder for me to find time to write and edit.

But I’ve got two pieces of writing that need some attention, and I’m really tired of my own inability to get stuff done, so I am sitting myself down and having a talk.

But now I gotta go back to work. More freelance, yay.

And then, maybe, some of my own editing.

Sigh.

Megan
PS: We’ve just started watching Mad Men, and every scene I’m gasping about the clothing, the furnishings, the hotness of Jon Hamm, whatever.

How many times has a writer used the phrase

“Plot is not a four-letter word”

or

“Plot IS a four-letter word”

(and, as an aside, it drives me crazy when people say things such as “Science is not a four-letter word.” No, dumb-ass, it’s not. Math, however, is).

There is some serious plotting in my future, and I don’t just mean when the h/h get together for their HEA. I am planning on writing a much bigger book than previous, and that requires multiple POVs, which I’ve eschewed in the past.

I’ve got the movie My Man Godfrey stuck in my head as an example of what I am going for, the one with William Powell and Carole Lombard. Also Dinner at Eight, with at least one Barrymore, Jean Harlow, Wallace Beery, etc. And I saw parts of Grand Hotel, starring both Barrymores and Greta Garbo and a vixenish Joan Crawford.

Are there other great ensemble pieces I should keep in mind? Oh, and Gosford Park, only the storylines don’t all entirely intersect at the end, the way my book has to for some sort of satisfying ending.

I am terrified of attempting this, only I think I should try to conquer my inability to plot, and intersect, or I won’t be able to write more than the sum of the parts I am writing now.

If you have suggestions as to how to plot, what movies or books have great ensemble storylines, or any other cheery words of encouragement, leave ‘em here.

Oh, and likely I won’t be posting as frequently in the next few days. You know, family holiday hoo-ha and all that.