Tuesday, August 26, 2008

The Shoerack

I have beautiful shoes. There are the black patent leather t-pumps, a cute pair of red polka-dot ballet slippers, and of course, my velvet wedge sandals with the blue paisley on the heels. I have flip-flops, sequined flip-flops, flip-flops with small little brown stones adorning them, flip-flops with heels, and not to mention, the beach flip-flops. I have sweet brown lace-ups in 1940s style and leopard peep toes. But by all accounts, the reigning queen of my shoe rack(s) must be the Tahari black knee-high boots I snagged last year, with their perfectly proportioned heel and row of covered Victorian buttons up the side.

I am not bragging about this -- many women have beautiful shoes, and if you've seen some of my other fashion choices in the past, you applaud me for my choice in footwear. But lately, I don't even have those.

I work in a "no shoe" office, going for sometimes 24 hours without putting on shoes (other than my "yard" flip-flops). Yes, the woman who hated the fact that others took off their shoes in the office now never wears hers to begin with! The earrings are in, the lip gloss glistens in the reflection of the computer screen, but the shoes? Nonexistent.

Dressed in my standard office attire is no problem, but putting on those great leopard peep toes to walk around my house just seems kind of silly. In a house of hardwood floors, the sound of my heels would just send the alert to the dogs to get in "someone is leaving" mode (following room to room before resigning to pout on the couch and throw dirty looks in my direction), so it's barefoot I stay at my little desk.

And of course, I'm barefoot as I write this. Next time we see each other, let's go shopping for shoes.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

My brain is getting a workout, and it's only Tuesday.

The creative work I did for Lowcountry Living is the same kind of brainstorming I'm now trying to do for many magazines, and in order to write a good pitch that will get an editor's notice, you have to understand the audience, a specific magazine's departments, and do some research about the subject. All of that keeps the creative field wide open, but it does eat time, so you have to make it worthwhile, pitching to magazines that might truly have an interest in your work.

Here's the deal: I already have two stories due the first part of September, and both are resume-driven rather than a direct pitch. However, they were in response to needs for freelance writers, and they still expect an occasional pitch in the future. 

Pitching ideas might seem to sound like "too much" to many people, but there are a few upsides:
1. You get to spend a lot of time reading magazines very thoroughly. It's work, really. Yes, I might be tearing out the occasional basted chicken recipe, but I assure you, it's work.
2. Even if an editor rejects the pitch, they might keep you in mind for the future.
And the most important part of all for me:
3. It keeps the creativity going, and so writing the fiction seems to be coming more naturally on a daily basis. (I didn't say necessarily better, but we're ignoring that pesky internal editor for now.)

So, ladies and gentlemen, that's what I've learned so far in the process. That, and well, that I have ripped out more recipes than I will ever cook in my lifetime.


Tuesday, August 12, 2008

The deep end of the pool

When you take the plunge, there is a time when your breath feels as if it escapes you. The water slows your fall to the bottom, bubbles float around you and finally, one toe touches the bottom of the pool. Then it's the push to the top, time speeds again and you move through the bubbles that you just created by your jump.

That's where I am, moving through the bubbles I've created. 

As usual, I had outlandish hopes: that now I would be 10,000 words down the road on the fiction, have enough articles lined up for September to warrant a celebratory dinner somewhere in this new city I'm just beginning to not get lost in, and have my office set up to the cozy cocoon of writer's inspiration. 

But instead, I barely have gotten it together to purchase the correct file folders. In fact, that required a return trip back to Office Depot.

Then there's the matter of the computer, my glorious, adorable, fast-as-lightening Macbook that I promptly tried to install OSX on when (as was evident by the full dock and working desktop), it already had. Hey, the disc said install, OK? 

So a call to Apple to help me erase and reinstall the thing that was already perfectly installed, then a call to my Wireless router company's call center to speak with a nice woman from India with a very thick accent to ask how to restart the router (the $30.99 edition amazingly didn't come with many instructions), and then some "Network Diagnostics" on the new baby to get her to talk to the router, and well, my day was more than over. 

This is really no surprise to those who know me. I spent my first day alone in the house without a television because 5 minutes after B. left for work, I hit too many buttons on the remote and shut down our new cable system. Then there's the semi-famous fact that although I can concoct Chicken Marsala from memory, microwave popcorn is beyond me. (Yes, I know -- feel free to provide me a tutorial then watch as it chars and black, acrid smoke fills the entire city block. You won't be the first.)

However, at present I am working wirelessly on my new laptop, and it seems that I've made some progress towards the top today. Stay tuned, setting up my new Nano is next.