Novelist No Mas?

I am declaring 2007 the year of non-fiction writing. 2005 and 2006 saw me attempting novel writing with limited success. While I still harbor the writer's dream of publishing a story I made up and wrote all on my own, I'm returning to my roots and my first love, which is non-fiction.

Every writer's book will tell you to write what you known AND to read what you write about. I read non-fiction. I'm an absolute fiend for history, biography, and memoir. I throw in the occasional novel (usually on a friends recommendation) but if you stranded me on a desert island with my choice of books, almost all would be non-fiction.

I approach writing like a puzzle. You have all the different pieces and first you find the corner pieces--which are the main points of your article, and then you start testing different pieces to see if they fit together (sometimes trying to mash two pieces together that clearly are not meant to be joined, just like in a real puzzle).  It's long, often boring and most always frustrating, yet when you have the finished puzzle (article), you take pictures and show it to as many friends as possible as testament to your great skill and perseverance.  To switch metaphors, writing is like exercising. I hate the actual act of doing both, but love myself for having completed the task after the fact.

I''m starting off to a slow year, work wise. This is intentional as I'm waiting for the grand unveiling of my new website (soon...very soon) before I start to aggressively court new business. The site will be a departure from my current site (www.denaharris.com) which screams "CAT WRITER!"  The idea is to attract more corporate work, which pays better and also interests me because it's something new and I have the attention span of a gnat and get bored if I'm not constantly challenged.

As I've done for the past several years, I've raised my income goal for the year to be a 10-12% increase over year prior.  Blair pointed out that I had a few steady gigs (I'm sooo hip, as you can tell by my choice of words) last year that I"ve let go but that really boosted my income, but I'm not worried. That's the fun of freelancing. You never know what unexpected project will pop out and surprise you. The For the Love of Cats book, column writing for Banfield veterinary magazine, writing for web sites...none of that was planned. I love not knowing what I'll fill my time with this year... what new projects will come up that will add to my resume or make me rip my hair out in frustration, wishing I'd never taken it on. It's all part of the writing adventure.

Here's a toast to the unknown adventures awaiting each of us in the New Year.

From This Day Forward, I Will Be Perfect...

God, I love the optimism a New Year brings.  Each January offers the opportunity for the ultimate do-over...a chance to be someone who eats healthy, watches minimal TV, is of service to others, and cheerfully exercises each and every day. In summary, it's the chance to be someone I've never met before in my life.

You might be surprised to learn, given my rigid adherence to schedules and goals, that I start my New Year not on January 1st but on the 2nd. Trying to begin any new lifestyle on the 1st is a recipe for disaster...you've stayed up late so chances are you'll sleep in and boom! Already you're off course. Plus, there's delicious leftover New Year's party food to snack on during the day, and who feels like exercising after having even just a drink or two the night before? Nope, January 2nd is a much better day to get things going.

My goals for the New Year mirror much of America's. Portion control at meals (especially when eating out)...less sugar intake...less TV...run at least 4x/week and weights and yoga 2x/week...get a physical (I haven't had one in over 10 years)...change out cat toys every Sunday...and the biggee--Run the Kiawah Marathon in December.

Just to close out the New Year, we had a great party. My friend Pam came over around noon and we cooked for 4 hours.  I believe photos of the great cooking fest, as it will come to be known, will follow shortly.

It's 8:30 and so far I've lived a perfect life in 2007. No snacking, no TV, I've combed the cats and I'm getting ready to go to yoga, a. Excellent...this perfect living thing will be sooooo easy. ;)

Diablo II Widow

The silver lining: I am no longer being attacked with Lysol (see yesterday's entry).

The downside: I have lost my husband--and his soul--to Diablo II.

Honestly, I'm not even sure what Diablo II even is. I'm amassed from the screaming and moans coming from the speakers on our computer that it's some form of violent video game.  Olivia, our youngest cat, typically sits on Blair's lap to be combed and she took an unusual interest in the running, jabbing, fighting, and stabbing on the screen, patting a soft paw against the monitor.

"I don't think we should be exposing the cats to this sort of violence," I said, visions of Olivia leaping out from under the couch and lobbing hand grenades at Lucy filling my head.

"Um-urgh," said Blair, staring at the screen.

Grasping for some semblance of together time, I took my book to the upstairs sitting room, to be near Blair on the computer. More yells and moans came from the screen.

"You sound like you're doing very well," I said, trying to be supportive.

"Yes," said Blair. "I've just killed all the goat people." He paused, then muttered, "That will teach them not to pay homage to me."

Video game addict, Lysol-spraying fool--the guy cracks me up. Happy New Year!

Pshhhhhhhhhhht!

"Pshhhhhhhhhhht!" is the sound I hear in my dreams. It's the constant, unending sound of my beloved following me around the house... spraying Lysol on anything I come in contact with.

With just a nudge, the man could be a germ-o-phobe. I check e-mail and hear "Pshhhhhhhhhhht!" as he sprays down the desk and keyboard. I brush my teeth at the sink. "Pshhhhhhhhhhht!" fills my ears as I walk away. I cuddle a cat. "Pshhhhhhhhhhht!" (Just kidding).

Still, it's a lot. "Enough!" I said. "Put that damn can down."

"I am trying to make sure I don't get sick before New Year's," said Blair. 

Okay. Point conceded. One of us had to be healthy to greet the guests. And I'm doing much better... more weak than anything at this point. I believe the worst has passed which means Blair is in danger. Our routine is that one of us falls sick, heals, then the other one topples.

He's out of the house at the moment, delivering bags of purged household items to Goodwill. So if I hurry and finish typing this entry, there's a chance I won't have to inhale Lysol for the nth time today. Or...the guilt might get to me. After all, I don't want him to be sick. Damn it all...

Pshhhhhhhhhhht!