So my birthday is coming up soon, hence the title. This is not a plea for birthday shenanigans, presents, or anything else. It’s just a silly post (well, most of them are).
Normally, I get all anxious and depressed around my birthday and obsess about all the things I haven’t done yet. For example: I foolishly thought I’d have a whole series of books under my belt (written, not read, duh) by the time I turned 35, but now that day is fast approaching (ACK it’s this fucking WEEK) and I’m still in the middle of book 1 with the outline for two other series waiting impatiently on my desk. Not two other books: two other series of books. My brain is getting blocked up, people.
The characters for those series’ appear regularly in dreams, knock politely during meetings at work, move furniture in my head while I’m making dinner, and scream in my ear while I choreograph for dance class. Sigh. They’re insistent and relentless, and I think I’m finally ready to set aside book 1 for a while in favor of giving them some attention. It’s a big decision I’ve been agonizing over for a few months: feels quite like I’m abandoning my first kid in favor of another. I really like the general idea for my first series, but I’m 30k words in and, well, to be brutally honest I’m boring MYSELF…therefore something is fatally wrong. It’s not violent enough, too violent, not sexy enough, not complicated enough, too complicated…I’ve been trying to figure out what the issues are so I can fix them and move on, but after two years of work I don’t think there’s any fix right now. I think it’s time to say buh-bye for a while and focus on something else.
Like the other four couples banging around in my head trying desperately to get out on paper.
And clearly I’ve not yet had enough coffee, since I’m rambling on about writing when this is SUPPOSED to be a birthday post. Fail on my part: sorry.
Every year I’m required by my family (parents, sisters, husband) make a list of shit I haven’t bought for myself already so they can get presents I actually want. The list is generally books (because I’m a fucking addict and NEVER buy all the books I really want), movies/tv shows, and random other fun shit.
Since I was about twelve, all birthday/Christmas lists have included three inexpensive staples that I can always use and offer a cheap alternative to the hardcovers on my list: candles, bath stuff, and hair doodies.
Yes. Hair doodies. I’m a writer and former English major who makes up words. My husband gave me shit about that word for nearly a full day via text, because he’s a buttface who enjoys my mentalness. I told him he doesn’t have to buy me any: they’re a go-to-inexpensive-girly gift: the equivalent of stocking stuffers for me. *shrug* And on the scale of importance for birthday celebrations, they’re not terribly high. I mean, my title is pretty clear about my priorities, right?
This year, however, all celebrations may be trumped by one massively exciting event. I get to meet The Bloggess ON MY BIRTHDAY. That’s right, one of my all time favorite writers will be in my town on my bday. This is a pretty fucking banner happening (actually more than when I met Mercedes Lackey at Convergence a few years ago) and I’m so fucking excited I’m getting anxious today…it’s Tuesday.
She’s here on Friday.
I’m hoping turning 35 will give me just enough adult-ness to NOT make a total fangirl ass of myself. I will NOT bring her wine (even though I want to) or squeak or do anything too monumentally stupid. I will NOT bring her wine (even though I want to) or squeak or do anything too monumentally stupid…see where I’m going with this?
Yeah yeah…I know. Me + “adult behavior” = fail. I’m gonna give it my damndest though…because I’d prefer NOT to freak her out.