Slice of Life Day # 5: Comfort Trumps Chic

I admit: one of those words in this post's title makes me shudder. But I'll try to get over it.

At my age, I've given away all my high-heeled shoes. I don't buy clothes that are fashionable yet uncomfortable. I embrace shoes that feel like slippers, and clothes that are comfy. 

Getting home last night, I was cold. For Christmas a couple of years ago, my daughter gave me a fleece jumpsuit that is hideous-looking, but is so delightful to wear. (It's like the old-fashioned baby sleepers.) 

Curling up on the couch. Watching The Voice while trying to stay awake. The plush fleece feels like a blanket.

It doesn't take much to make me happy...

Sioux... A Real Character

More than half a century ago, I was born. My birth mother named me Margaret. (I could see myself as Maggie.) My parents named me Susan. When I was 13, I took on the name Sioux... When I was in my 40s, I legally changed my name.

I was a real character. I shunned the popular fashion choices. I railed against authority. Of course, some of it was due to me being a teenager.

Recently a piece of mine was chosen to be published in NCTE's journal. My letter to a former teacher will appear in the 2019 fall edition of the National Council of Teachers of English journal.

If you'd like to read a little more about me as a teenager, along with finding out how my teacher reacted to the news, check out my blog on The Muffin. 

This is me as a high school senior.

What Goes On in a Writer's Head?

Do you ever wonder what's really going on in a writer's head?  If you're curious about what's in Sioux's brain (Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.) , check out this post.  

As writers, we play a hurry-up-and-wait game. Hurry up and finish the manuscript. Hurry up and edit it. Hurry up and get it revised. Hurry up and send it off to agents and publishers. Then it's wait and wait and wait, hoping to attract the attention of some literary agency or some publisher. 

It's hard being patient. It's hard keeping one's self confidence up when there's so much rejection and such long wait times.

How about you? How do you handle having to wait?

How Sioux is Turning Into a Planner (Shudder!)

I'm a pantser. I fly by the seat of my pants. The WIP I'm most proud of is a middle grades novel and is being critiqued as we speak. Because of this manuscript, I'm wearing the I-didn't-do-any-outline-or-map-any-of-it-out badge of honor. (Of course, I wrote 27,000 words, had to scrap almost all of it, and then had to build it back up, through "channeling" the main character, until it's now at 50,000 words. Perhaps a dollop or two of planning might have made things easier for me.)


I've had many writing friends and colleagues try to use a taser encouragement to prod me into trying to plan out my writing. Sue Bradford Edwards writes about her story boards, and I envision a board the size of an art-gallery wall, covered with organized post-its and photos and illustrations and colorful yarn connecting the different parts. I don't know what her boards truly look like, but I do know she's a prolific and successful freelance writer. Planning obviously works for her.

An editor I hired tried to convince me to map out my story into 3 acts. Margo Dill gave me some specific suggestions for each act. I now have to admit: Margo, I did all my "planning" in my head as I went. I hope you'll agree that in this case, pantsing worked. (Margo has my manuscript and since we're snowed in today, perhaps she's reading it right now.)

However, it's a miracle! I'm embracing planning. Finally. I just finished Jessica Brody's book Save the Cat! Writes a Novel and it's transforming. I'm already thinking about how I can make my story map (with index cards and corkboard) portable, since I'll be going to a writing retreat in February.

If you check out my post at The Muffin you can find out some details about this book.

(A book that can change Sioux from a pantser into a planner? That book must have some powerful mojo...)

Sioux's Confessions

I have many things I could confess as a parent (and now grandparent). I've bitten the ear off a chocolate Easter bunny (a solid one, which was slated for my daughter) and had to buy another one. (This happened before Easter.)

I've dug through my kids' Halloween candy in the middle of the night, while they were sleeping, looking for some delicious milk chocolate.

I've made my teenaged son wear a rented Speedo. I've worn white socks with hole-y Crocs just to embarrass my kids. I've fallen asleep (many, many times) when babysitting my granddaughter. I've gotten my son out of bed often by just saying the word "bacon." (Confession: I never made him bacon on a school day. Never.)

So many confessions... so little time.

Margo Dill is hosting a contest. All you need is a parental (or grandparental) confession of 500 words or less. Here is the link to the post:

But hurry. The deadline is January 5 at one minute to midnight.

Back on the Chain Gang

Well, yesterday afternoon I finished my manuscript. In the last two years it went from 25,000 words to almost 0 to 49,926 words.

Now I'm finished, right?

Wrong.

Now the real work begins.

I'm sending it off to an editor (Margo Dill) tomorrow. Then I have to wait while I bite my fingernails til they're bleeding patiently for her feedback.

Will she say it still sucks? Or will she say it's an improvement? I'm keeping my eyes and my toes crossed. (I can't cross my fingers because I'm too busy gnawing on my nails.)

Then, if she says it doesn't stink too badly, I can start re-examining the editors and publishers I listed as possibilities. And then submitting.

Ugh.

I'm back on the chain gang...