Everyone's a Critic...

I suppose it was inevitable. The mixed review. Here for your viewing

pleasure is the second review I've received for "Unmasked."

(The first one was great, this one... not so much...)

Here is what Two Lips had to say about it:

"Unmasked is interesting and well written. The characters are complex and their interaction intriguing. The surprise and rather untraditional ending left me with mixed emotions. On one hand I appreciated the manner in which everything came around full circle but on the other I doubt the credibility of the storyline. Overall, it was a good read though."

Overall, "good enough". I'm not bitter. (Mutter, mutter, piss midget, mutter mutter... ) I guess it could have been much worse.

Rejection

A sucky fact of life - from dating, to job interviewing, to publishing - we all have to deal with rejection at some point or another.

Here's a helpful instructional video to ease the writer's blues. You may want to have pen and paper handy to take notes.

Rejection Letter Response

Partly Sunny, Occasional Clouds with Slight Chance of Rain in Some Areas

Thanks to everyone for putting up with my pity party yesterday. I'm still adjusting to a new diagnosis, new meds and life in general, but I'll get over it. I've got a lot to be thankful for, just have to remember that sometimes.

A friend sent me this link the other day - I thought it was pretty funny. Funny and frighteningly true...

http://www.glumbert.com/media/irack

Oh, and by the way, if anyone is interested in a chance to win a free copy of my e-book, you can see the details at my other blog.

Small Bandages on Large Wounds

****

A tiny bandaid
the open jugular bleeds
psychotherapy


****

Lexapro, Prozac, Lithium, Buspar
Freedom, Mania, Death and Despair
Natural Remedies
Count your blessings
Say a prayer
Get off your ass
Stop feeling sorry for yourself
Others are worse off
Get out there and help

****

Sometimes, a swift kick in the pants is more effective than sympathy. Other times, it's just a pain in the butt and wrinkles the clothes.

Lady Sings the Blues...

This post is in response to a comment Stewart made on Wayne's blog. (In other words, I'm butting in.)

Stewart wrote: Have you ever been so butt-fucking low that you've called a crisis line? I know people do it, hell..I used to man one of those phones...but I've always wondered what it would be like to be the person making the call.

(Raising hand) Um, yeah. I have. Here's how it went:

In a moment of utter desperation, in an attempt to keep from committing suicide, I called a "hotline." I was put on hold for the first several minutes. (Crisis hotline, can you please hold?) I was then transferred between a couple of people and finally transferred from there (via phone) to a local clinic, where I was put on hold again. After about 15 minutes, someone came on the line, transferred me to a nurse who looked at their schedule and said they could get me in (are you ready for this?) in about 3 months. I actually started laughing and said I'd call back another time.

For better or worse, my sense of humor has never strayed far from me. (I'm the type of person who could find something funny in a funeral, and have.) The humor came to my rescue then. I hung up the phone, thought it was a good thing I wasn't holding the knife to my wrist during the time I made the call, and just had to laugh at how ridiculous it all was. Somehow, that made me feel better. So I guess the crisis lines do work. :)

Fraud

Charles recently blogged about the assumptions people make about writers. Though I could relate to all of the assumptions on his list, the one about writers being great party guests because of their witty repartee was one that really struck home. It happened again today.

I made a comment today (without thinking) about publishing in a room full of people and suddenly I was the center of attention. Not my favorite place to be. In the blink of an eye, I went from unassuming, middle-aged mom to an expert on writing, had lots of great stories to tell, knew every famous writer in the world personally, and must be working on a fabulous, famous series.

The fact that I ran screaming from the room didn't deter them. They followed me to the elevator, which was too darn slow in arriving for a quick getaway. I considered sprinting for the stairs and jumping over the railing, but the arthritis in my ankles was acting up. I was trapped. I spent the next few minutes stuck in a 4x4 cube explaining that I didn't know "so-and-so" and I don't know how to get started writing screenplays (Sidney, I gave them your dad's number if they have any more questions.)

To give these people credit, they were extremely nice and just excited for me, but I felt like a fraud. I managed to dodge a few questions that I didn't want to answer, yet the overall experience was very embarrassing. I'll have to watch what I say more carefully from now on.

At least, until I really do know "so and so", am raking in millions, have great connections and my series is an international best seller. Which should be, oh, any day now. :)