Note to Self

Writing.png

That's a hastily jotted down outline for a short story that I vomited up over a decade ago. I recently remembered it existed and dug it out only to find that the coded scribbles of a college senior don't translate well to a thirty-something momma. Even if they are the same person.

Handwriting is kind of an issue for me. I was supposed to be left-handed, but being the littlest in my entirely right-pawed family meant that I was mimicking my parents and older sister in order to learn simple motor functions - holding a crayon, cutting with a scissors, even picking up my cup. Learning to tie my shoes was tantamount to torture until my sharp-eyed first grade teacher explained to my parents that I was naturally left-handed, but conditioned to be right. My lefty Grandma showed me a handy-dandy approach to shoelaces and I've pretty much got that down these days. But the handwriting continues to suffer (see Exhibit A).

There are other elements working against me in resurrecting the short story from Mindy-Of-The-Past. I often write to myself in a sort of code. It's not about protecting my creative babies from wandering eyes intent on stealing my stuff, or even a time-saving attempt at my own private shorthand. It's an Irish self-defense mechanism, I suppose, a physical way of keeping anyone from getting too close to something very important to me - my mind.

Which sounds kind of cool until I find a sentence like this:

Hsb. sys to w the "nitrogen line" and then the "miasma of life" idea of steering whl. and heat.

And thirty-something says, WTF?!?

A Brief Note On the Application of Mascara

So, I mentioned earlier that it seems we're unable to put mascara on without opening our mouths. Being the way I am, I had to know why. I asked someone who knows more about makeup than I do (which isn't saying much) and she had the skinny!

It turns out that your eye muscles actually relax when you open your mouth. Try it. Focus on your eye muscles and then open your mouth. You can feel everything go slack up there in eye-land. Pretty interesting stuff.

Turns out it IS a biological imperative! I love it when I say idiotic things that turn out to be correct!

So What Do You Do?

It's a fair question, and one that comes up often in the social world.

As writers, we're forced into an awkward corner when this inevitable moment comes. Some less than stellar snippets from Mindy’s life:

Person: So what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer.
Person: Oh really? What have you written? Anything I'd know?
Me: No, I'm not published yet.
Person: Okay, so you sorta just write on the side.
Me: Uh... yeah, sure.
Person: Well good for you, it's nice to have a goal.
*awkward moment where we each stare at our drinks and then pretend to see someone we know*

Person #2: So what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer *recalls former conversation* And a librarian.
Person #2: I've never been a reader.
*apparently this makes me a person of no consequence whatsoever to them*

Person #3: So what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer and-
Person #3: *clutches me madly* OMG! Me TOO!!! We should totally get together sometime, I'd love to read your stuff, maybe we should meet in a coffeehouse, we can drink coffee and read and write together! That would be soooo much fun. I write erotic gay vampire epic poetry - what do you write?
Me: Uh... I'm working on a non-fiction book about blue whales.

Person #4: So what do you do?
Me: I kill people for money.

Anyway, you get the point, and we've all been there. Telling someone you're a writer means opening yourself up to the inevitable question of whether or not you are published. And somehow, not being published demotes your dream career to a hobby.

Being met with total disinterest is almost preferable to the OMG! response, depending on varying factors. I find myself more verbally capable of handling the non-reader as opposed to the overly-effusive fellow writer, who (in all honesty) may or may not suck. You never know. I could've just dissed the next James Joyce.

How do you answer the question?