My first mistake: Putting a futon in my office. (We had a couch in here, once. Can’t remember what we did with it.)

My second mistake: Putting really cushy quilts and blankies on the futon. (Which is not on a frame, mind you. It’s just sprawled out all over the floor. I fold it in half, occasionally, to vacuum.) You can probably guess third mistake, which was…

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“I love being a writer. What I can’t stand is the paperwork.”

— Peter De Vries, editor, novelist (1910-1993)

I am not blogging this week. Or next. But Thursday Thirteen beckons, and I’m superstitious. The number 13 and all. So we have, from the world-famous home of Wacky Mommy…

THIRTEEN REASONS I’M NOT BLOGGING THIS WEEK

13. Eyestrain

12. Neck hurts from hunching over the keyboard, spazztically typing

11. Kids seem to think I spend too much time on computer, and it’s… summer?

10. Apparently you’re supposed to be outside in the summer.

9. Yet once the kids got me off the computer, they then dominated it themselves (ie — watching movies on it, visiting the Big Crunchy Site o’ Fun, yelling at me to find their I Spy Fantasy game)… so who’s spending too much time on the computer, huh?

8. In spite of their yelling, feeling waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too mellow to blog with my usual furor.

7. Can’t deal with writing about the dog piss on my neighbor’s patio, which reeks to high heaven and has been an olfactory irritant since the summer we moved in here.

6. Have come up with a new plan: Take the kids to the outdoor pool. Not their wading pool, the real pool. Have yet to implement this plan. (Items needed: Cash for admission, sunscreen, swimsuits, sunglasses, goggles, arm floaty things.) Much easier to go to the indoor center where we take lessons and turn them over to someone while I go to water aerobics. Is this wrong?

5. Need to find a floral swimcap for water aerobics, so I fit in better with the 70 year olds. Large pink flowers with white centers would be best.

4. Or, figure out a way to stylishly wrap a scarf around my head and lower myself gracefully into pool, fully accessorized (earrings, necklaces, large rings) in manner of said 70 year olds.

3. Need to recall conversation starters that do not include, “No, we’re not going to the outdoor pool” or “Stop choking your father.”

2. Am unable to think up clever sex tricks to publish on Internet. Except this one: It’s kind of sexy sometimes to try to be really super-quiet during sex. Like, sneaky teenager quiet. Also, it’s awesome to pitch a tent in the yard and get it on under the stars. Also, the best, coolest thing you can do to your partner after sex is give them something I call a Worship Caress. Not like a full body massage — more like a… OK, this is tough to describe. Kind of stretch out over them, like Cat’s Pose in yoga (this website I just linked to is a little kinky, if you ask me. What’s up with the huge carved wooden skull looking thing? Would find it hard to relax looking at that…) Next, start at the top, caress and kind of just run your hands down your partner’s body, all the way to the feet. It feels great, just try it. Only don’t say “Namaste” afterward, ‘k? (Ah-ha! Three! All is not lost.)

1. Really need to find an agent and get one of my manuscripts published. The blog is just not getting the bills paid.

“My breasts are so versatile now. I can wear them down, up, or side to side.”

— Cybill Shepherd

And in the in-box today (Does my writing suck? Apparently. Along with my secretarial skills):

Thank you for submitting to The Georgia Review. I’m sorry but your submission was not accepted for publication.

For future submissions please review our submission guidelines. You failed to enclose an SASE with your submission, nor did you even supply a return address. We will not respond via email in the future.

Best.

Scott R. LaClaire
Production Manager
The Georgia Review
The University of Georgia
Athens, GA 30602-9009

706.542.3481
Georgia Review

To Scott, I say:

Girl Scouting Is All About Friendship. Girl Scouting Is All About Leadership. Girl Scouting Is All About Caring. Girl Scouting Is All About Fun. Yes, the cookies are in, ta-ra-ra-boom-di-ay… Thin Mints, yes. Lemon Thingies, eh. Peanut Butter Tagalongs, hell yes. All Abouts, hand ’em over. Will now drown my literary sorrows in honey-vanilla chamomile tea and a large plate of cookies while watching last night’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy on tape. (Tell me again, why the hell did Meredith stick her hand inside blown-up guy? To get McDreamy’s attention? Well, that’s one I never tried before.)

Did I mention I have laryngitis? Me, with no voice. Imagine. Hockey God and children are thrilled and not even trying to hide it.

Was also recently rejected by McSweeneys, both online and published versions. Have also been rejected by numerous other literary mags in the past few years. Far too many to mention here. This is just the most recent round of me trying to get my shit published. Have also been shot down by 20, 30, 80 who can remember, really, literary agents, publishers, feature-style magazines, etc.

Have also given up on my writers’ group. Rewrite, rewrite, repeat, and still, they kept saying the novel had no “voice.” Me. With no voice. Imagine.

Love,

WM

Am writing lovely fluffy freelance article about lovely fluffy place. Will be paid Real Money. Am thrilled. Am also working on third draft (3rd) of my novel. It will sell someday, I must keep believing this. Cuz with the bronchitis, and the unexplainable female hormone craziness (perimenopause? WTF?) the crazy children, and the damp, moldy, wet, disgusting Oregon weather that STAYS LIKE THIS FOR CLOSE TO TEN (10) MONTHS OUT OF THE YEAR JESUS GOD WHY DO WE LIVE IN THIS RAINBELT?

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“The wicked London tavern – thieves and drabs
To affront the blessed hillside drabs and thieves
With mended morals, quotha — fine new lives!”

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning; Aurora Leigh; 19th c.

“Quotha” means “indeed.” Pronounced (KWO-thuh). It is an interjection. (“Shows excitement/and emotion/hallelujah/hallelujah/hallEEELUUUUUJAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Remember Schoolhouse Rock?)

I swiped this word and quote from A-Word-A-Day, which has been one of my favorite daily e’s for a few years now. Subscriptions are free, but they do accept donations. Anu Garg, the webmaster, is an awfully nice man. Sometimes he tells cute stories about his kid, plus he’s a computer geek, and you know I like computer geeks.

http://www.wordsmith.org/awad/

“Life gets better after you give up all hope.”
—Anonymous

Yes, I started writing my new book, in case you were wondering. I’ve already written 4,386 words this morning, putting Stephen King and all others to shame. Have you read his writer’s manual? Do, if you’re having problems getting motivated in any or all areas of your life. It’s the best. It’s called “On Writing: A Memoir of The Craft.”

And unlike that skeezy Brenda on “Six Feet Under,” I’m not going to have sex with a bunch of random freaks, write about it on my Mac, and call it a day. I’m writing about vodka lemonade and its relationship to motherhood.

Real Writing. Manly writing. Ha! Hemingway-type writing. Drinking and pounding on the keyboard.

“I think I did pretty well, considering I started out with nothing but a bunch of blank paper.”
— Steve Martin

(Or blank screen, in my case.)

“I stuck the letter back in the envelope, Scotch-taped it together, and readdressed it to Buddy, without putting on a new stamp. I thought the message was worth a good three cents.

Then I decided I would spend the summer writing a novel. That would fix a lot of people.”

— “The Bell Jar”
Sylvia Plath

Yes, i’m going to spend the summer writing a novel. And not stick my head in the oven.

ttfn,

WM