Lady Rage Rises Again!

I think I may have to beg an artist to create a rendition of my alter ego, Lady Rage. I need a visual representation of my feminist rage.

Okay, there’s a lot wrong with this commercial – starting with the fact that it’s for McDonalds. But the thing that has Lady Rage rearing her head and lightning flying from her fingertips (you know, just a suggestion for her pose random artist reading this) is the litany of cutesy nicknames this crazy-eyes chick keeps tossing at her boyfriend.

I’m NOT saying that women never make up a nickname for their man. I have a couple for my hubby – that I won’t share because he reads this sometimes and would yell at me. My point here, though, is that I only have a very few and all of them have a history or a story behind them. They aren’t just random or chosen because they sound cute, which seems to be the case here.

I can only assume this commercial was written without the influence of a woman and is the newest in the “man-cave” movement. I don’t think I need to Lady Rage for another four hundred words on my issues with this movement, but I would like to make a plea that male writers please leave their think tanks and go outside. Talk to a woman. A real woman, not one of those 800-number ladies, and please realize that we aren’t all psycho hose-beasts. Please. Don’t force Lady Rage to take over my body.

Braaaiiiinnnssssss…

As in, mine is dead. NaNoWriMo and my RP writing are both in a huge upswing right now (November is NaNo month) and the whole world seems to be kicking into creative high gear.

I, however, am sitting on my couch and watching NCIS reruns as I attempt to pretend I’m going to get any writing done. Meanwhile my story is sitting unwritten and all my RP partners are being VERY patient. If any of you are reading this, thanks.

The whole point of this post? I needed to feel productive today. Also, I really don’t want to go outside and clean up the puppy vomit I discovered in the backseat of my car today. Poor Boyo. He doesn’t do well in the car when Mommy is driving badly.

The poor baby.

Dreams and Other Nonsense

I dream vividly. Not the usual “going to school naked” stuff, though I have had a couple of those dreams. No, mine are different. I dream stories.

Richly detailed stories with backgrounds and flavor. I know each character intimately, their childhoods, their likes and dislikes. I know the story from start to end and I get to be a part of it all. (Sidenote on the awesome jazz currently playing here @ Starbucks)

Then I wake up and this whole story is running through my mind, begging to be told. Sometimes I hang on to sleep, reluctant to wake, and the dream turns to print, taunting me with what could be if only I would wake and write. Then I get up, get some caffeine in my system only to discover that all I have left of the rich world I dreamed are bits and pieces.

Now I have to work and recreate the story before it is all gone. Now I have yet another story begun and dozens of other stories sitting around half done. Now I have another chunk of writing that I can’t help but despair over before I’ve barely begun because I know myself. I am always writing; always starting but never finishing.

So I ask: What good is writing well if you can’t write to completion? Thoughts?

The Game Show Network is Evil

So! Long time no write, right? Haha! That, my friends, is a soft D joke, for those of you who’ve wondered what the heck Soft~D~ means.

I’d love to say that I haven’t been writing for the last month or so because I’ve been off doing such awesome stuff that I haven’t had time. The truth is, except for an awesome weekend in Vegas with my family and my anniversary weekend (two weeks apart in occurring) I’ve just been lazy. Okay, not just lazy. Hella lazy. Hells to the no lazy. Astronomically lazy. Practically inert.

Crazy, right? Who’d have ever thought I could be lazy.

I’ve been trying to examine the issue and figure out why I’ve been so lethargic and I’ve come to a few conclusions.

• One (or A): My house is too messy for me to feel energized. The lawn really, really needs to be mowed.
• Two (or B): I haven’t indulged in any summer clothing retail therapy yet. I own only two dresses and neither say beach bunny. My inner Buffy is dying from the lack of thin eyelet cotton and pink nail polish.
• Three (possibly C): My house is a mess. I know that technically this is a repeat of One, but the yard is seriously starting to bum me out. I have an old lawnmower in the garage, but when I say old I mean OLD. As in no power, only pushing and pulling. Bleh.

So I’m off to research how the heck to use it, then I’m gonna hit Old Navy for a sale. I’ve got a bit of money I can go shopping with (yay merit raises) and I’m gonna definitely paint my toes. I know that’s not very exciting, but I’m gonna have fun. Yay me!

God of Tetris Screwed Me Over

I’m stuck. It’s not writer’s block in the traditional sense of the word. I can’t find a name.

Have you ever had a character that refused to tell you his name? I’ve chosen one for him, a working name, but I keep writing his father’s name instead. But when I try changing his name to match his father’s, or swap them, that doesn’t work either. I start using the villain’s name.

It’s becoming frustrating as heck. I’m tempted to start calling him Booger or something equally icky that I’ll have to change sooner or later. The only problem is – what if the gross nickname sticks? What if it becomes so natural to call him Booger that I can never change the name? He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be named Booger, but you never know. He might suddenly decide he likes it and never tell me his real name. It’s not like his father is giving the kid’s name up. Hell, that man barely wants to talk to me.

And don’t get me started on the heroine! So far she refuses to have any adventures. She’s just kind of there and I’m not sure what to do about her. Maybe I should make her fat for a while and see how she likes that.

The only character being anything resembling forthcoming and “hey, let’s do this!” is the damned villain. He’s swaggering all over my brain and demanding I write him. Yet he was oddly silent as I wrote his death. I mean, come on! Nobody wants to die, but he’s an evil warlord! Did he really think I’d just let him live to retirement?

The major problem I’m having is that I’m trying to get more organized in my writing. I’m hoping to avoid the “seven chapter burnout” I usually suffer from by creating a more organized outline. In an attempt to test this new style, though, I created an entirely new story. I’m trying not to daydream too much, creating scenes I’ll never commit to paper because they are so fantastical and unreal or I’m at work and they frown on you busting out your laptop at work. In the process, though, I’m making almost no progress and it’s starting to become disheartening.

I could always pull together my notes on an older project, but I’m just not sure what to do. I have so many half-finished projects clamoring for my attention. I want to just finish something but I’m not sure what or how.

Perhaps I need to post a brief synopsis of my top ten and let others choose for me.

On a side note, sweet and sour pork does not mix well with mushroom chicken. Go figure.