Spiders And Other Poisonous Habits

A couple of nights ago I sat down on the couch with Kids A and D to read, chat, and watch for my hubby to come home. It was relaxing until Kid A saw a spider on the couch.

I told her to kill it.

Being a brave young woman, she got some tissue and bent in for the death strike. Then she paused and calmly said, "Mom, it's a Black Widow."



We all vacated the couch in a speedy manner--a very speedy manner.

I told Kid A not to kill it. Some jobs you just can't have a kid do, and poisonous spider slaying calls for adult action. And something more deadly than a tissue. I grabbed the hairspray (yes, hairspray) and doused the intruder with it. Several times. You try escaping (or attacking someone) when your whole body is covered in hardening glue.

Needless to say, the evil interloper didn't take kindly to her full-body drenching and tried to crawl behind the couch. Kid A yanked it (the couch not the spider) away from the wall, and I reapplied the hairspray. Then I did it again several more times. We poked the spider into a mason jar with a pencil, sealed the jar, and put it on the front porch for disposal.

I'm still a little freaked about sitting on the couch. I may have to move every stick of furniture in the house, vacuum under/in/around them all with one hand on the vacuum and the other on the hairspray, and then shower (again) just to get the heebie jeebies to leave me alone.

What does this have to do with writing? A whole heck of a lot. All of us have spiders lurking in our pages or hiding as bad habits. It could be procrastination hanging out on the couch waiting to sink its fangs into you. Or it might be over-confidence and pride that keeps you from heading back to your manuscript for another round of revisions. It may even be doubt that builds its sticky web and entangles you before you can get going.

All of these, and so many more, are camouflaged against our writing couches. If we don't search them out with hairspray in hand, they will bite us. Ouch.

What spiders are you going to pursue and kill today? I'm going searching for distractions, and boy will they be sorry. Will you be a spider slayer today? Enjoy the hunt.

Attending Your Own Viewing

First off, I still haven't heard from Wren about her prize in my contest. Wren, if you are out there, please send me an email at klmaw@aol.com. Thanks!

On to today's post. (Aren't you just trembling with anticipation?)

Over the weekend my parents were invited to attend a surprise viewing for a dear friend. Why was this a surprise? Well, for two reasons: this friend was still living, and she didn't know about the somber event.

Let me explain. Her hubby, who is a practical jokester, decided to go all out for his wife's fiftieth birthday. And by all out, yes, I do mean he staged his own wife's viewing as a surprise.

She came home to find the house decorated for a funeral. A real casket loomed in the front room. Pictures chronicling her life stood on easels around the house. A register book lay ready for guests to sign in and give their condolences. And large funeral arrangements of flowers--dead flowers--surrounded the casket. To top this all off, a sign sat by the front door that read, Please enter with reverence. And a companion sign inside the house read, Please join us in mourning Cindy's youth.

How did this remarkable woman handle this? With grace and humor. She sat beside the casket as the guests arrived and went through the funeral receiving line. She smiled and laughed as she accepted black-wrapped gifts and black balloons. She didn't even cart her hubby out of the house in the casket.

What does this have to do with writing? And, yes, it really does have something to do with it, I promise.

As a writer, you have to be willing to attend your own viewing sometimes. Well, your manuscript's viewing anyway. And just like how my mother's friend wasn't dead yet, it might not be time to actually bury the thing, but you may need to sit back and listen with a smile as friends and strangers stop by to review it.

The best thing about this is, most viewers/critiquers will have some great things to say about your manuscript's life. They will also have some less happy things to remember, and since you still have time left before it enters the coffin, you can fix those problem areas. True it can be a little awkward to still be living at your own viewing, but what an opportunity! It's like you get to cheat death and rewrite your manuscript's life. How great is that?

Have you learned to accept critiques with grace and humor? Are you ready to attend your own viewing? I am.

Say What?

My contest is still on. Don't forget to drop a comment and facebook, twitter, or blog about it for extra points.

Now on to today's post.

Saturday we took the whole fam to our church's Christmas party. Think lots of smiling people, lights, and kids bursting with excitement as they waited for Santa to make an appearance. When he appeared, the fat man in red disappeared behind a wall of children and the waiting began. Picture this



but in color, and with more children all hyped on candy, pizza, and good old fashioned yearning. Oh, and it's in the church. Filled with church people. Lots of church people.

Now place me, my kids, and hubby smack dab in the middle of it. And this is what I heard:

Awesome neighbor, who always asks about my books and knows I've been trying to off the bad guy, yelling over crowd noise to my hubby: Hey, did your wife kill that guy yet?

This is what I saw on the faces of about 100 church going neighbors:



Hubby, who didn't see the above reaction: Actually, she killed him today.

Every head swiveled to stare at Hubby. And this happened again:



Awesome neighbor, who also didn't notice the staring throng: Really? Did she blow him up?

Hubby: No. She stabbed him.

Now picture awesome neighbor giving me fist bump and asking if I used an exploding sword.

It was super funny to watch everyone's reaction. It was also super fun to finally kill the guy off. He had it coming for a long time.

How was your weekend? Did you have any say what moments?

When The Dogs Bark, Do You?

It's time for Kid A to register for next year's high school courses. This event led to a conversation between her and my hubby about college and the vast options opening up to her.

I sat and listened, wading through memories until hubby started reminiscing about the first day of a psychology class. I never took psychology, and now I'm wishing I had, because the first day Hubby and all the other students sat in their chairs and stared at each other, waiting for the professor to show up. They sat some more, stared some more, and tapped their watches in disbelief as the minutes dragged past.

Then someone started barking.

Yes, you read that right, barking like a dog that hadn't seen it's master in days. Drooping heads lifted, eyes widened, and silence reigned. At least it did until the barking resumed--coming from the professor who'd been hiding under his desk the whole time.

Kid A and I listened to the story entranced with the image of a teacher barking to a room full of astonished students. Kid A laughed. I grinned and said, "I'd have barked back."

Apparently that's what the prof wanted. Why? Probably for the same reason I suddenly want to head to a library, or session of congress, hide somewhere, and bark my heart out.

Because, wouldn't it be fun to watch all the reactions? Yes, I realize this makes me more than a little strange, but it would be great research into body language and people.

Writers make a living out of showing people's reactions and emotions with words. We can't just tell you someone was surprised or embarrassed. We have to show you, paint a picture in your mind so you live the event with the character. In essence, a writer shows you who the character really is.

Think about it, if someone, anyone, had barked back that psychology professor would have known a lot about them, almost as much as he discovered about the people who just stared. So, the question is, would you bark back?

Hush, Hush Winner, and Who Brings A Rooster to the Redbox?

First off, the winner of Hush, Hush is, (please insert imaginary drum roll here) Blake! Several woots to you, Blake, and thanks for playing. I'll get this out to you right away.

Who Brings a rooster to the Redbox? Rooster Man, that's who. My hubby and I made a quick trip to pick up a flick Saturday. As he scrolled through the available DVDs, I sat in the car and people watched. A man and his wife parked next to us. Just an ordinary couple . . . until I looked closer.

The man sat in the passenger seat cuddling something. Yes, I said cuddling. This something was large and feathery. And by large, I mean huge. I stared at them, blinked, then stared some more. So did everyone else in the parking lot. I know it's rude, but this is what I saw. You'd stare, too.


This is not an actual photo, but it's close. I swear.

Okay, maybe it was more like this, but bigger and cockier, and bigger. Did I mention it was huge?



Seriously. I really saw a man, who will live forever in my mind as, Rooster Man, with his arms wrapped around this feathery thing that was larger than my neighbor's dog. My first thought, right after, What the heck? was, Where's my phone? I have to take a picture.

I patted every pocket, searched the depths of my purse, cursed my forgetful self. No phone. No pic. No proof. How could I leave my phone home when Rooster Man made an appearance? I felt like I'd missed my opportunity to capture Big Foot on film. You don't get a second chance at a thing like this.

What strange things have you seen? Rooster sightings? Bizarre pets? The Loch Ness Monster? Drop a comment and share the story with us.