Tag Archives: writers

Hermit Flavored Shark Food

Let’s face facts.  When I’m not going all Flashdance in my Hobbit Dance Studio, or venturing out in to the cold, crazy, people-filled world just to buy soap, I’m here on my couch watching TV.  Last night, since it was FREEZING out, and since it was Friday night, my husband and I watched Shark Tank, a show we’ve recently discovered even though it’s been on for four years.

As I was watching, my palms were sweating for the contestants who were pitching their ideas to the “Sharks.”  For those of you who leave your homes to go out with other humans on Friday evenings, Shark Tank is a show in which people with business ideas try to persuade a panel of rich people to invest in their businesses.   I cannot imagine EVER appearing on the show.  Aside from the fact that I would have to put on real pants, probably without an elastic waist, get on a PLANE, and go to a super crowded city, I would also have to try to persuade other humans.  I’m terrible at sales pitches because I am apathetic and I hate to talk a lot.  This is why I was always in arrears when I worked at Macy’s in 1990.  I could not even sell enough to cover my small salary. So, there’s that.

As I was falling asleep last night, I tried to imagine myself in front of the Sharks.  Since I don’t manufacture anything other than words, I guess I would seek money to promote my blog and my novel.  In my imagination, my segment on Shark Tank would go something like this.

I walk into the Shark Tank room with my usual resting bitch face, and my arms crossed in front of my stomach, which has started to spasm in response to my being nervous.  Thanks, IBS.

Robert would then ask me, “What’s wrong, Lisa? You look upset.”

I would answer, “No, I just have resting bitch face and Virgo stomach.  You know, you’re a Virgo, too.”

Robert would look alarmed and say, “No. I mean, how do you know that I am a Virgo? What does that even mean?”

“Um, I just like to Google people.  My husband says I’m a stalker…” Then, I would do that barking cough laugh thing because I would have nervous cottonmouth.  I would close my mouth to try to preserve moisture.

Daymond would take over for the now frightened Robert.  “Lisa, what is your product?  I don’t see anything up there.”

I would look around as though I were perplexed about this, too. “Um, I write.  I mean, I’m a writer, and I don’t really make money at that. You could like put a picture of my novel on some FUBU shirts though.”

Daymond looks down, and shakes his head.  Barbara jumps in. “What type of investment are you looking for?”

I would answer, “Um, I was thinking cash would be good. I could take a check, too.”  I uncross my arms and run my right hand over my hair at this point. Now, we are getting somewhere.

Barbara disagrees.  “I meant how much money.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I just need like a bazillion dollars to publicize my blog and book. I just want to have a life like Stephen King or The Bloggess.”

The Sharks look at each other.  Clearly, they do not understand the desire to live a life filled with writing and napping. I look down at the floor, wondering if it is hard wood or plastic.  I move my feet out a bit to maintain my balance because I am starting to feel dizzy.  I did not eat before coming on the show due to the stomach pains. I hear a couple of snickers; at least I think I do.  My tinnitus gets worse with stress.

Kevin speaks, his voice breaking through the crickets and bringing me out of my floor staring trance.  “What kind of stake are you offering?”

MMMMM.  Steak.  I would give the confused dog look and say, “probably medium rare. I mean, that way it’s cooked but still juicy.”

Lori would speak up while the rest of the Sharks laughed.  “No, honey.  He means what portion of your business are you giving in exchange for the bazillion dollars.”  Lori does air quotes when she says bazillion.  The Sharks laugh more.
I cross my arms again, and take a step backwards.  I hate it when people call me honey. “Oh stake.  Um I don’t know, like some percentage or something. And you don’t have to be snotty.  I have a Master’s in English not Math.”

Mark laughs so loud that he coughs. Lori looks a bit uncomfortable, but she keeps talking.  “What are you going to do with the money?”

I roll my eyes at this point.  What a stupid question.  “I’m going to use it to live on while I write.  I could also buy ads. I want more people to read my blog because it’s funny, if you have a sense of humor.  Laughter is the best medicine, and if more people laugh it might solve the healthcare crisis.” There.  I finally gave them a solid answer.
Mark stops laughing and brings up the P-word.  He asks if I have a patent?

I shake my head and look at him like he is an idiot.  “No, but I’m the only me.  Why would I need a patent?”  These people are supposed to be smart?

Mark replies,  “Lisa, I looked at your blog before you came out.  Plump middle-aged cat lovers are not really rare, you know.”

This irritates me.  “Are you calling me old and fat? What do you mean there are other short, chubby crazy cat ladies? You know what, Mark Cuban? I just don’t like you. And why is your last name a nationality?  I’m not Lisa IrishScottishwithatouchofFrench.”

With this, all of the Sharks start laughing.  Two of them spit water on themselves in the process.  I stomp off of the stage as I hear someone say “out.”  These people will be sorry when The Lizard King Club is made into a movie.  Suckers.

NANOWRIMO–A Contest for Non-Competitive Hermits

NanowrimoAs your token cat loving, hermit pal, I spend a lot of time sitting in my house and staring at screens.  Unlike the average gamer teen, I HAVE to do this. For one, I work online (for an online university — I don’t sell Amway).  So, I earn my living, for real, entirely online.  As you know, I like to blog every now and then, so I am online a lot writing and posting my award-winning writing.  I use the term “award-winning” loosely.

Anyway, I figured since I’m obviously not typing and staring at a glowing screen enough, I should participate in the only “competition” that non-competitive hermits enter.  For the first time in three years, I signed myself up for National Novel Writing Month.  Here is my profile. Contact me there if you want to be my buddy for the month of November. The last time I did this, in 2010, I wrote Misfit Academy.  This time, I plan to at least have a decent draft of The Lizard King Club.  The month of November will be tough for sure, seeing as how I just promised to write at least 50,000 words, but there are a lot of positives to participating in NANOWRIMO.

Here are the five best things about participating in National Novel Writing Month:

  1. In an attempt to make myself feel more professional, I will actually get dressed every day.  To those of you who do not work from home, this means that I put on my GOOD yoga pants, the ones with real pockets in the back, fake pockets in the front, and an actual fly.
  2. I will learn to be really organized and use my time very wisely.  Writing a book in a month, while still having a job, a son, a husband, five pets and a TV watching schedule can be tough.  Focus. Focus. Focus.
  3. I get to listen to that awesome movie sound track station on Sirius .  I’m not talking about the one with real songs.  I’m talking about the one with background music.  I can’t listen to words and write, but that instrumental song from E.T. is perfect.
  4. I will not be on Facebook as much.  Don’t get me wrong; it’s great to see that I look better than some people I didn’t like in high school (sarcasm), but a break is still good.
  5. I could lose a pound or two.  Since, I will not have time to drive to Starbuck’s, go out to eat at all, or snack between meals, I will eat less, I hope.  Whenever I plan to eat less, I eat more.  It’s a sickness.

So, if you are a writer, or just want to play one on TV, maybe you should consider doing NANOWRIMO, too.  You

My GOOD Yoga Pants
My GOOD Yoga Pants

have three more days to warn your family, buy more coffee, and find that Cinemagic channel on Sirius.  If you don’t want to participate, you can still live vicariously through me.  I will be posted excerpts from the novel, and likely some complaints about how much my fingers hurt.

What’s Your Poison?

This would NOT be in hell.
This would NOT be in hell.

I’m not talking about intoxicants here.  Believe me, everyone has one, whether it’s alcohol, carbs, fair food, or bad TV.  I’m talking about the thing that actually bothers you like no other.  In other words, what is your own idea of hell?  

 As a non-Christian/Buddhist/Ancient Astronaut Theorist, I don’t believe in hell. So, no, I’m not afraid I will go to hell.  : )   On the other hand, as an academic, I’m able to look outside of my own belief system and understand other ways of thinking.  So, I have frequent conversations with others about religion, politics, and sushi without having actual arguments.  The other day, I was talking to my husband about the theory that hell is individualized, meaning it would be different for each person and include the things that bother them here on Earth.  So, I started listing the things that would be in my personal hell.  Here they are in no particular order: 

  •  Screaming infants and toddlers –- Most people goo goo and ga ga over babies.  They love them.  They think they are beautiful.  I think they look like little Buddhist monks in the wrong attire.  Unlike monks, they are loud and way too needy.  I like kids when they can talk and tell me what the heck they want.  Using the restroom alone is also a plus in my book, for them and me. (Parents know what I am talking about here.) I enjoy peace and quiet, and I don’t speak tantrum.
  • Puppies — Puppies are really cute, but when they are not potty trained and hyperactive they create a perfect hell for me. If I wanted to clean up poop, I would have a baby.  At least they start to talk and use the toilet eventually. Plus, truth be told, I am a cat person.  Nothing is cuter than a kitten. 
  • Extroverts in need of constant conversation — I work from home and spend most of my day NOT TALKING, or LISTENING.  I LOVE that.  I like reading and writing. If you need to talk, call your mom.  Send me an email or a text message.
  • Exercise for the sake of exercise — I dream of being skinny, but it’s not going to happen.  Two things stand in my way.  One is a love of salty carbs, and the other is a hatred of exercise for the sake of exercise. Whenever I am on the hamster wheel (elliptical) or exercising along with one of the 30 recorded Gilad episodes on my TV, I’m always thinking of other stuff I have to do, like writing a blog or working on that second novel. Unless I become a farmer or move to a place where I have to walk everywhere, I will stay this sort of medium-fluffy size.  Whatever.
  • Daily meals of odd seafood and mushrooms — I’m a picky eater.  My teenaged son is more open-minded about food than I am.  He and my husband have sushi dates because I refuse to eat “bait.”  Yes, I’ve tried the California roll. I hate that, too.  I also hate mushrooms.  They are slimy and gross and remind me of frogs. 
  •  Reptiles — My personal hell would have bouncing frogs and slithering snakes everywhere.  If an animal doesn’t have fur and a stable body temperature, I’m not interested.
  • Temperature fluctuations — I’m comfortable when it’s about 78 and sunny, with low humidity. Other than that, I’m either hot or cold.
  • Ringing doorbells and other interruptions — I don’t like surprise visits, especially from people who are selling products or religion.  For one, it interrupts my train of thought when I am writing or working on a project of some sort.  Two, it forces me to talk to people.  So, if you’re coming over, text me first.  Don’t call. Ever. 

 So, those are the things that would be in my hell.  What would your hell include? Leave me a comment.  I love hearing from you all, in written form of course.

 

What's Your Poison?

This would NOT be in hell.
This would NOT be in hell.

I’m not talking about intoxicants here.  Believe me, everyone has one, whether it’s alcohol, carbs, fair food, or bad TV.  I’m talking about the thing that actually bothers you like no other.  In other words, what is your own idea of hell?  

 As a non-Christian/Buddhist/Ancient Astronaut Theorist, I don’t believe in hell. So, no, I’m not afraid I will go to hell.  : )   On the other hand, as an academic, I’m able to look outside of my own belief system and understand other ways of thinking.  So, I have frequent conversations with others about religion, politics, and sushi without having actual arguments.  The other day, I was talking to my husband about the theory that hell is individualized, meaning it would be different for each person and include the things that bother them here on Earth.  So, I started listing the things that would be in my personal hell.  Here they are in no particular order: 

  •  Screaming infants and toddlers –- Most people goo goo and ga ga over babies.  They love them.  They think they are beautiful.  I think they look like little Buddhist monks in the wrong attire.  Unlike monks, they are loud and way too needy.  I like kids when they can talk and tell me what the heck they want.  Using the restroom alone is also a plus in my book, for them and me. (Parents know what I am talking about here.) I enjoy peace and quiet, and I don’t speak tantrum.
  • Puppies — Puppies are really cute, but when they are not potty trained and hyperactive they create a perfect hell for me. If I wanted to clean up poop, I would have a baby.  At least they start to talk and use the toilet eventually. Plus, truth be told, I am a cat person.  Nothing is cuter than a kitten. 
  • Extroverts in need of constant conversation — I work from home and spend most of my day NOT TALKING, or LISTENING.  I LOVE that.  I like reading and writing. If you need to talk, call your mom.  Send me an email or a text message.
  • Exercise for the sake of exercise — I dream of being skinny, but it’s not going to happen.  Two things stand in my way.  One is a love of salty carbs, and the other is a hatred of exercise for the sake of exercise. Whenever I am on the hamster wheel (elliptical) or exercising along with one of the 30 recorded Gilad episodes on my TV, I’m always thinking of other stuff I have to do, like writing a blog or working on that second novel. Unless I become a farmer or move to a place where I have to walk everywhere, I will stay this sort of medium-fluffy size.  Whatever.
  • Daily meals of odd seafood and mushrooms — I’m a picky eater.  My teenaged son is more open-minded about food than I am.  He and my husband have sushi dates because I refuse to eat “bait.”  Yes, I’ve tried the California roll. I hate that, too.  I also hate mushrooms.  They are slimy and gross and remind me of frogs. 
  •  Reptiles — My personal hell would have bouncing frogs and slithering snakes everywhere.  If an animal doesn’t have fur and a stable body temperature, I’m not interested.
  • Temperature fluctuations — I’m comfortable when it’s about 78 and sunny, with low humidity. Other than that, I’m either hot or cold.
  • Ringing doorbells and other interruptions — I don’t like surprise visits, especially from people who are selling products or religion.  For one, it interrupts my train of thought when I am writing or working on a project of some sort.  Two, it forces me to talk to people.  So, if you’re coming over, text me first.  Don’t call. Ever. 

 So, those are the things that would be in my hell.  What would your hell include? Leave me a comment.  I love hearing from you all, in written form of course.