How do you hone a skill you don’t have?

Pity party. I was lambasted again by a critique. Wow, just when you think it’s safe … you know the rest. Sometimes, I use this platform to free write. I need to get better at scenes and writing descriptions. But, then there is so much to keep in mind … I truly think there is always someone out there to reel you back into reality. They are not kidding when they talk about a thick skin. Who are they? Anyone, you choose to listen to I suspect.

Lately, I have been spending my time re-writing my best chance for notice on YouWriteOn.com. I have to quadruple the word count in order to resubmit it to PandaMoon. Another novel, recently spit back out of the Pipeline, is on hold, until I can manage treading lightly toward it while wearing a tin-foil hat.

For every step forward there are two steps back, it’s all about the balance. Opinions and a nickle still get you nothing. It used to buy a lot, but that’s just alluding significantly to my age.

I’m going to describe me, writing at my workstation using vivid imagery. Then I’m probably going to plug in my audio book and go to bed. It’s early but it’s a day of fast. Most times, when I make such a statement — usually to myself, I find I’m still at it at midnight.

MY BLOG and all its STUFF

My mind is full of things I want to say and as a private person, except for this expose of thoughts, I’m not sure if my thoughts are worthy of publication. While in college, I never completely filled a blue book, meanwhile, students to the left and right of me are going up to the professor’s desk several times to take more.

Currently, I write the thoughts that come into my head and glance over at an empty coffee cup. It’s red, it’s the perfect size, I hate small coffee mugs. This one however, has it all. A sturdy handle and a wide mouth. My mug not me.

My words filter through a Mac screen of 21″ necessary for my other work but a nice size. I design websites and logos and anything else that comes along. I grew up using, omg, I can’t remember the Adobe product from ancient history. Got it, Adobe PageMaker, then I moved into Quark Express which is still a favorite — yes, it’s back. I worked in the industry of printing in which Quark was the most compatible for a turn. Aldus Freehand was my favorite illustration program creating those vector images that eventually get rasterized in PhotoShop. I soon fell behind by clinging to Freehand ignorant to the advances of Adobe Illustrator. I never learned that program properly. My hair is turning grey as I reminisce. My keyboard of white letters on a black surface has no real effect on me one way or another. I just know those keys have been pounded on for quite some time now. (Thanks guys.)

The shadow that is cast over my moving fingers is from my free standing five barrel lamp that casts enough light for me to keep going. My desk is cluttered for the best part of a month until I have to find something I jotted down on the corner of a scrap of paper that has started to clone itself making all strewn papers look alike, then its a frantic search for the Dollie of clones, the original. Phew, I found it. Then I proceed to put it back amongst the rest hoping that it is never needed again.

My wireless mouse is purple.

My mouse pad is imprinted with Van Gogh’s Starry Night, as is my iPhone case. I am a fan, what can I say? I also have two prints hanging in my house, just saying.

I can see the lower rim of my glasses, there is actually no rim but its the thickness of the glass I’m actually referring to and they’re kind of crooked because of the bump on my nose. A casualty of eighth grade English class when the teacher stepped out of the room and I was slammed in the face with a notebook — metal rimmed, by a boy on the gymnastics team.

I never had it fixed.

I still remember their names, the teacher and the boy, and if I’m ever searching for a character’s name in a future novel I’ll keep those in reserve. For an evil genius and his sidekick.

A box of Kleenex is always handy for a coffee spill or the occasional cold. It fits snugly between my monitor and the edge of my dresser, yes, my office is in my bedroom. My husband always insists on sleeping in my office — go figure.

Not sure if I’m accomplishing what I set out to do here. I kind of doubt it. Am I not showing people what I do on a daily basis, or am I telling again. A few words. As long as they are the right words. The desk is a folding table. A white one with a crease down the middle which I can only see part of due to the clutter and the objects, necessary that they are.

Wires and plugs are a big part of the scenery as well. Right now my iPhone is charging, my printer is connected. My mail is positioned on the corner of the 3′ square desk waiting for me to fill the order and mail it on my way out in the morning.

I’m going to stop now, and read what I’ve written. That is usually the plan.

Sometimes I’m inspired to expound on some of the points I brought up. Other times I just hit Publish.

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