Things I Try To Remember, But Never Do

We all get a little scatterbrained at times. As people, it's totally normal. In fact, if you don't have a moment of "What the heck was I doing?" in your life, I'm going to say you're probably a robot, and hopefully you come in peace and won't destroy our world a-la evil Transformers style.

This could get ugly.

If you've ever asked a writer some of the things they haven't done yet, but probably should have, they'd most likely give you a look reminding you of Filch's petrified cat in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. We're writers- we're not supposed to forget things, especially things like important plot points or hair colors of characters or how many times we ran the wash cycle on the washer for the same load of clothes. But usually we're clustered, forgetful of appointments or dates or meetings with friends, occasionally forget the USB drive at the printer shop, and if we ate that day. Or yesterday. Or maybe last week. I essentially discovered just how bad my forgetfulness was while I was hunched over my lovely tomato basil soup from Cosi, which is delicious by the way, and thought that I'd share some of the biggest things I tend to forget.

1- Did I charge my phone/ipad/MP3 player/thing of usual importance the time I forget to charge it?
This is my most common culprit. You know how it goes- you're setting up to write all la-de-da, and next thing you know BAM. It smacks you in the head you forgot to charge the thing you need most! How the heck can you write when your ipad is dead?

2- Commenting and liking ALL THE THINGS on Facebook. Also counts for RTing ALL THE THINGS on Twitter. 
 Yes. I like your post. I also will go down my news feed and like, well, pretty much everything I find remotely interesting. Twitter? Same thing, only they call it re-tweeting (RTing). After a day or two of relative inactivity I will actually go back through half of the day and freakishly comment on just about everything I can find something to say about. This is called spamming. I am lame.

3- Not commenting back on reviews (for the most part).
I'm still trying to understand why this is such a faux pas, like say when the review is good. Usually I'll see a review and say aloud, "SQUEE! LOOK, NEW HAPPY REVIEW!" And then proceed to type that out and hit send. Somehow, this is wrong. Because nine times out of ten if I do that, all comments afterwards NEVER HAPPEN. And then I feel like I totally did that, and crawl into a hole where I write all the depressing parts of my books because I am a depressing soul.

4- Did I put pants on? 
Yoga pants do not count. Sweatpants don't count, either.

5- Blogging regularly? HAH. 
Remember my little vow to routinely blog early on in the year? Yes, I've remained consistent that I'm still posting (most because I love writing blog posts, it's like an open invitation to show you guys my brain and just how bonkers I absolutely am (the Hatter and I would get along VERY well)) but I'm still trying to learn the whole 'blog on this day and that day EVERY WEEK, ALIVIA.' I can't do that! Well, I could, but that would mean scheduling posts and losing the spontaneous weirdness and all the fun things that make me absolutely batty. So yeah.



Speaking of, I totally forgot to refill my cup of soda. Crap.



Is there anything you try to remember to do?

the apple of my eye; drawing inspiration from what you see

(lackofconcentration)


Inspiration, we find it everywhere these days! The back of a pick-up truck, vacation, poems, other stories, maybe even in the sour milk hiding in the back of your fridge (you might want to throw that out, by the way) inspiration hides in every nook and cranny of our lives, right down to the metaphorical fabric of life that holds everything in place.

I had one of these moments today. Go figure that it's a Friday so I'm working, but instead of working my typical day at the sports store and not-so-secretly staring at Chase Utley on the wall, I'm working a craft show for my Mom at a local menonite home. It's the one craft show I always volunteer to do for her just because I have so much fun (and because all the locals seem to remember and not hate my face, a huge bonus.)

I had intended to get through the day mostly selling the jewelry my Mom crafted and sneak in a bit of writing here and there when I had the chance. Until I saw the picture on the stand across from me. There, across the way, sat the most beautiful picture of a wintry road like the ones I was writing about in Illumine. Natalie Searl and her wicked winter photo just sort of, how do I put it, made my inside go all squiggly-wiggly. And just like that, words formed inside my head to the picture I impulsively bought with good reason, Essallie's voice leaping all around in my skull.

Where have you found inspiration? Was it in a place you least expected it?

& so the insanity begins?

Why is it that the hardest post is always the first one? That sounds remarkably ironic coming from a writer, I know, but just work with me here. It's 12:03 am and I think my brain is completely fried.

I guess you could say that this blog is mainly for me to sputter out whatever the heck bounces off my head that won't end up in a story somewhere, or on my other primary blog that I take part of on a writing forum. That one is more up the alley of, "My boyfriend and I are fighting and I need a place to vent/scream/cry." Because as much as I love staying anonymous in my merry little world over there, I'd rather not drag old posts of me sobbing over an ex-boyfriend to here when I'm more interested in talking about my prized work I'm working on.

You see, I've been chewing over a story for the past almost-not-quite two years now, and it's finally coming into place. While I'm positive I've got the first title for it, I'm not so sure if it's going to stick just yet, so I'm holding off on a name for it and just calling it 'Pretty Word Document'. I promise, I'll come up with a better title later when the gods of my inner cranium bless me with a title.

I just hope I actually finish this little creation of mine. Not like I don't have an incentive to not finish it; most of my friends who have seen some of it didn't complain, and no one on the writing board I'm apart of didn't say it sucked, either. That's good, right?

I think I'm going to go back and mash my face to the keyboard now.