Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

I'm a Senior Driver (re-posted)

I was walking out of the bagel store yesterday and noticed a car parked crooked. The back end was all the way over the white line into another parking space. Don’t you HATE that?

I was secretly having a discussion with the driver saying things like:
“Did your five year old park the car for you?” and “Did you get hit over the head with a baseball bat today?”

But then it happened. I realized the parked car was mine! But here’s the really terrible part – it was not the first time this week I did that. What’s wrong with me?

Now I’m saying to myself:
“It’s only a matter of time.” and “You’re only as old as you act.”

This is how it all began. First I started peeing my pants every time I laughed, now I can’t park straight and before you know it I’ll be on line for the early-bird specials at the local Perkins.

And then one day, when I’m not paying attention, I'll run one of my kids over…


OK… don’t freak out – I’m in a parking lot here and my daughter is acting. We were laughing so hard I peed my pants - really!

Have you turned into a Senior Driver?

Thanks for stopping by.
Please support me with your honesty.

Buffi

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Thinking Outside the Bath


It was summertime almost a decade ago.  I was a workin’ mama with toddlers in the house.  The night was no different than most.  Dinner was done and we were making the most of the remaining daylight. 

Then it came.  My nightly torture:  Bathtime.

Bathtime meant prying the baby girl’s arms from the jungle gym and yanking the baby boy from the blowup pool.  Then lots of “Mommy I got soap in my eyes.” Followed by, “No you can’t dump the water on the floor.”
If the dimming sky didn’t remind me that Bathtime was near, the family alarm clock would.
Husband: “You need to give the kids a bath tonight.”
Me: “I just gave them one last night.”
Husband:  “They’ve been running around all day.  They look like sweaty little pigs.”
Me: “Its baby sweat.  It doesn’t even smell.”

The kids are so smart.  Show one chink in the parental armor and they dig in with their sharp little nails.  “I don’t want to take a bath.”  Then the parrot, “Me too.”  Then the Husband, “Why aren’t the kids in the bath yet?”

At the end of Bathtime, I was the only one ready for bed.

I could have consulted with parenting.com article on Making Bathtime Fun Again.   I could have bought more bath toys, given formal notification before pouring water over their heads, or filled the bath with only an inch of water.  Really?

Maybe I should have consulted my mother.  You know her generation had to bathe their children in water carried in from the well.  What do we modern-moms have to complain about?

So, what did I do? 

I threw out the advice and did it my way.  I brought the bath out to them.  I placed the blowup baby pool on the deck and filled it with warm water (used a good old fashioned hose for that).  Then, I handed them a bottle of no-tears baby shampoo, sat on a lounge chair with a glass of wine and watched the magic.  The next night we used the kitchen sink.

Bathtime turned into bubbles, laughter and shampoo-hair dos. 

From that night on, I had the cleanest kids on the block.  And I never had to clean the tub again.  Win-Win.

How do you think outside the bath?

Thanks for stopping by.
Please support me with your honesty.

Buffi

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Procrastination

It’s been almost one full year since I posted on my blog.  Why?   Equal parts of life, fear and procrastination.

2011 was the year that I put my book and blog aside to help a family member.  It was a hard decision, but one I would make again.  Six months of neglect left my blog stagnant, my book late and my writing spirit low.  That’s life.  Sometimes you have to sacrifice for those you love.
When my family obligation was completed, I found myself completely unable to write.  I had lost my edge, my confidence, and once fear showed its ugly little face, procrastination was my only option.
Psych Basics Article on Procrastination states, “Everyone procrastinates sometimes, but 20 percent of people chronically avoid difficult tasks and deliberately look for distractions.... Procrastinators may say they perform better under pressure, but more often than not that's their way of justifying putting things off.”

What’s good news?  This post is proof that it is possible to overcome procrastination and fear.
Note to my Son:  If Mommy can post this blog, after a year of excuses; you can finish that science project you had all month to do.

I’m on Chapter 13 of my final book edit and my publisher is waiting with my finished cover.  I will no longer let my book and blog be the victim of my life, my fears or my procrastination. 

Stay tuned for another post next week.  Thanks for all of your emails and constant support.  It’s great to have a pen back in my hand.
Thanks for stopping by.
Please support me with your honesty.

Buffi

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Don’t be the victim of your own glass ceiling.

Photobucket



If you don’t strive to attain what you feel might be unattainable,
you will never really know the limits of your potential.
I believe we fall victim to our own limitations every day.
 

Wikipedia defines Glass Ceiling as:
Ceiling: “a limitation blocking upward advancement”
Glass:"transparent because the limitation is not immediately apparent”

Break the Ceiling
Shatter it, climb up and don’t look down.
Here are 5 steps to help you find that ceiling:
(after all, it’s invisible and you might not even know where you put it!)

  1. Pick one aspect of your life that you want to progress or a new goal you feel is unattainable.
    (for example: money, job, family, blog, writing, preaching, coaching)

    Me:   I want to be a published author.
  2. Find an example of someone who has achieved your unattainable goal.
    Me:   There are so many, how can I choose? Ok.. here are two of my favorites.  Both of these women are accomplished authors of memoirs.

    Sarah Saffian author of Ithaka: A Daughter’s Memoir of Being Found
    Elizabeth Gilbert author of Eat, Pray, Love
  3. Tell yourself why you CAN'T do what they did.
    Me:   I can’t be a published author because: I’m not famous. I don’t have a degree in English or writing. I don’t have an agent. I don’t have the financial means for editors or publicist. I’m just a jersey girl, ex computer geek, who knows nothing about publishing a book. Wow… I feel worse now than I did before this exercise.
  4. Take off the blindfold, you’ve just found your ceiling.
    Me:   Ok… All of the reasons stated in #3 are true. I can’t change them. BUT… my ceiling is that I ASSUME these are reasons I won’t get published. If I let these doubts rule me, then I won’t even try, hence the ceiling. If I let my own limitations prevent me from climbing, then one thing is certain, I will never get there.
  5. What next?
    Seeing clearly is the first step to success.
    Tune in next week for: How to keep yourself from keeping you back

Now go. Find your ceiling and let us all know about it.

Thanks for stopping by.
Please support me with your honesty.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Someone said to me... (week 2)

Someone said to me, “You need to wait until you’re married.”
I said, “I’m sorry I can’t. I just turned fifteen.”
Read how I got there


Someone said to me, “You need to wait until you're married.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “I know, Dad. Wait ‘till I’m married. You’ve told me that a million times already. Don’t you trust me?”

“Trust you?” Dad replied with his fist clinched and quickly loosing blood flow. “Of course I trust you. It’s that boy I don’t trust!”

I smiled and went in for a hug, “Oh, Dad, you really are ridiculous. He loves me and he would never make me do anything I don’t want to do, so there is nothing to worry about. You are so old-fashioned! Most of my friends have already done it, you know.”

As the words were falling out of my mouth I tried to catch them, but my hands were not quick enough. That last comment was sure to get me stuck at home again watching reruns of 20/20 with Mom while the rest of my friends were at the party.

But Dad let me go that night and by 8PM I was making out with my boyfriend in a dark basement. There were only three couples at that “party” and by 9PM we were quite alone on the couch. In a very short time, I was swatting my boyfriend’s hands away from me like I was the lone flower stuck in a field of honey bees.

I tried to stay strong, but I trusted him and I loved him. He would never do anything to hurt me. His loving voice whispered, “If you love me, then it’s okay.”

That made sense because he did love me. I broke away from his lips for a second and said, “No! I have to wait until I’m married.” He said, “You have to or you want to? Because I think you don’t want to.”

I pushed him away, fixed my clothes and walked away. My mind played ring-around-the-rosy while I said, “I guess have to and I don’t want to.”

As I stood by the door waiting for him to follow, he gently motioned for me to come back and sit beside him. He looked so cute and pitiful. He had one last plea for me to consider, “Let’s pretend that we’re married.”

“Pretend? Pretend? Did you just really say that? Is that the best you can come up with? I’m not going to pretend!”

He met me at the door, gave me a kiss on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Then marry me!”

I had dreamt of hearing those words, but not like this. It was only then that I realized Dad was right.
I said, “I'm sorry I can't.  I just turned fifteen.”

Thanks for stopping by.
Please support me with your honesty.


This post is linked to the following Blogs:
  

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Someone said to me…(week 1)

Someone said to me, “You need a platform if you want to get published.”
I said, “I choose B.”
Read how I got there


 Someone said to me, “You need a platform if you want to get published.”

I replied, “But you don’t understand, I have a platform.”

But they didn’t answer because they couldn’t hear me – even though I waved my hands wildly and hit my forehead with my fist. And if I really did respond to their email, I’m sure I’d be given the scarlet letter for new authors – a big letter ‘S’ for stalker, also known as ‘S’ for spam.

So I looked out my window and decided to speak to the tree that was graciously hanging on my every word. I gently pushed the curtain back so he won’t miss any of my speech.

I began, “My platform is me. I mean my platform is embracing adversity. If you read my book, my platform is clear. Hmmm.. Shit, maybe I don’t have a platform.”

Ahh… self doubt found its way into my heart again. Self doubt is a frequent visitor of many aspiring authors like me. Realizing I was not alone, I said to myself, “If you let self doubt win, then you lose. It’s that simple.”

I stood up to show the tree that I was serious now. “Look, I was given lots of hurdles; an alcoholic parent, abuse and poverty but I’m standing strong on the other side. I always thought I was so different and I longed to be the same. First I longed to be part of the normal-kid-club and then I longed to be part of the normal-mom club. You know, the ones that have it all figured out.”

The glare of the sun interrupted me. “Most of us don’t have it all figured out, you know.”

“Exactly!” I said as I threw my arms in the air. “If you know someone that has it all figured out I would bet you don’t really know them.”

The tree shook a leaf off toward me and said, “So what’s your point? You’re platform sounds more like a therapy session.”

My point is that we all know how it feels to be different. We all have our own struggles and we don’t always have the power to overcome them. I am saying, stand strong, be different, be yourself and don’t give up. My family was weird and screwed up as many familes are. That's why people relate to my story. I'm their sister, mother, daughter or friend. They will cry with me, laugh with me and in the end they will feel there is just one more person in the world that understands.

So, here's my platform:
Individuality and empowerment through acceptance of adversity.

And here's my mantra for today:
If I don’t believe in myself, I can’t expect you to believe in me. I will be published. I truly believe it. I can see it. I can feel it. I will say it out loud.

For writers in the midst of query and rejection letter hell, I say you are not alone. But you have a choice to make.
A) Let one letter from one person who doesn’t know you, determine your fate, or
B) File the letter away, shake off the self doubt and move on.

I said, “I choose B.”

Thanks for stopping by.
Please support me with your honesty.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Pitch and Bitch Conference

This past week I had the pleasure of attending the NY Pitch and Shop writers conference . It was an intense four days of crafting the perfect pitch and trying it out on visiting Editors.

On the first day we were broken into groups by genre. My group was lead by Susan Breen, author of The Fiction Class . Susan worked with us tirelessly to smash our full novels into a concise 150 word marketing pitch. Susan was the perfect blend of kind, professional and intelligent. Her advice was spot-on and in the end we all walked away with better pitches.

I wrote 50 versions of a single paragraph
and still rewrote it the next day!

I will admit that I had reservations about paying for ANY conference, but I took a chance. All of my reservations are now gone and I would delightfully recommend the NY Pitch and Shop to any author with a completed manuscript who is looking to properly market themselves. I promise, Algonkian is not paying me to write this, but I will take any money they want to throw my way.

Many of us ate lunch on the steps of the Post Office and fate graced us with the best weather imaginable. The writers in my group were dynamic, supportive and intelligent. I know I will have lasting friendships with many of you!

People ask me, “Did you meet any interesting people?

I answer, “Plenty. Want to know what happened to them?

Well, since the conference, Amanda quit her job as a journalist to become the new babysitter for Toots, but was fired when her obsession with cyber-sex became out of control.

Our fearless leader McFearson was picked up by a major publishing house, but when they found he led a secret plot to embezzle millions from the self publishing industry, he was forced to move to Paris.

Rafael, realizing where his real talents lay, went on to become an exotic dancer, or was it Brad? No wait, I think his name was Johnny.

The raven, who was making rude jesters behind the editor’s back, was shipped off to a mental institution where he is scheduled to be released later this month as a polite blue bird, instructed only to sing songs from The Ramones and Led Zeppelin.

Emma, formerly a textile expert, is now the author of a successful blog called “But really, who doesn’t know a homosexual minister these days?”

Kip gave up his job as a composer to work on his pitch with the literary genius, Rose. But when Rose turned out to really be a bra-burning hippie, Kip escaped to bartending on the Jersey Shore.

And no one can forget the little old couple, seen swapping spit in the corner of the room. They went on to host their very own talk show entitled “Old People do IT too”. We are so proud of you!

I wish the best of luck to all of my new writer friends.

Get published or get me published!

-Buffi

http://www.imbuffi.com/

Monday, February 22, 2010

Writing is Like Perfecting a Golf Swing

In 2009 I set out to write my first book. The words were boiling inside me and it was only a matter of time before I went completely insane or began to write. In the same year I took up golf as a hobby. Unlike writing, I never wanted to play golf. In fact, I never really understood the draw and swore I would never waste my time chasing a stupid little ball with a crooked stick wearing an ugly polo shirt. But here I am one year later wishing the snow would clear from my yard so that I can chase a little ball around with a crooked stick. Life is funny, now I spend my days perfecting my writing and golf swing, both equally frustrating and rewarding.

Writing and golf are equal opportunity ventures where you strive to achieve your goal while submitting to the fact that perfection is unattainable.

Equal Opportunity: Golf and writing are what I call equal opportunity sports/pastimes/careers. The golf ball, like the reader, does not care if you are young or old, big or small, or even from where you come. If done properly, a ninety pound woman can hit the ball further than a linebacker just as the words of an uneducated ninety year old man can reach further into a reader’s heart than the words of a young Ivy League scholar.

Perfection is Unattainable: Thanks to “Tin Cup” for this classic line. To complete my first book and perfect my golf swing, I’m constantly moving toward perfection knowing all the while that it’s completely unattainable. Just when I think I’ve done it, it’s a masterpiece and there is no further to go I soon realize I’ve only made it half way there.

I finished writing my book in 2009. It took me 20 days to write my hook. It took me 15 days to rewrite the hook , and I thought I was on my way.

GREAT NEWS: My hook was successful and my first agent is interested!

BAD NEWS: The agent wants to see my Book Proposal and I insist, “But I already wrote the book, why do you need the proposal?”

Just when I thought I could make up my own rules in this game of being published, I’m smacked right back into reality. So I began the task of writing my Book Proposal, which is essentially a marketing plan for a non-fiction book. In about fifteen brilliant pages it must answer the simple question:

“Why the hell should we put our good money into publishing your book?”

I have spent the better part of the past month writing my Book Proposal and I’m almost finished. I’m not ready to concede to my imperfection just yet. Wish me luck and please support me with your honesty.

-Buffi

http://www.imbuffi.com/

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

15 Days to Rewrite the Hook

It took me 20 days to write my hook . I like it, so do my sister and some other folks that were forced to read it. So it must be great, right? Well, I can tell myself that all day and watch the rejection letters pour in, or worse, watch nothing pour in. Or I can stomp on my masterpiece, cut its head off, and stretch its arms out until it looks better than it did before.

My sister says to use my instincts and never mind what others say, but my instincts have taken a long vacation from hook-reading. So maybe Mom was right, maybe the last part of the hook was too harsh:

“...leading to the realization that her family is far from normal and she is not so different from the woman she wishes would die.”

It was a little misleading, but literal. I think it was fair, but I don’t want to sound like a hag, or do I? Why does she want her grandmother to die, they ask themselves? I mean, really, isn’t the goal of the hook to make you want to read more? So, I admit, mom wasn’t the only reviewer to gasp when she read that line. “Not from the mouth of my sweet, Buffi!” But that made me want to keep it even more.

And then there was the little problem of my run-on sentence, but what the hell do my reviewers know about hooks? I have read almost 80 hooks on the internet at this point and I would say most of them are run-on sentences. I insist that no one can use the When Formula without creating a run-on. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating, but I’ve seen plenty of super-long hooks. OK, I’ll admit I had trouble reading to the end of them. “But mine is different,” I insist.

So, with lack of instincts, a 50/50 review rate, and a five-line run-on, I decided to write some new hooks to see if I could come up with something better and when I finished, guess who decided to show up? Instincts, that’s who. My feeling went from “I hope they like the hook” to “I can’t wait till they read my hook.”  So much for writing the hook in 20 days !
I looked to my peers for examples of good hooks and found some answers here:

Fiction Factor says, “The key to a good hook is hiding as much information as possible while revealing enough to interest a reader.”

Rites of Submission: Cover Letters and Query Letters includes a fabulous section entitled “What not to do.” Hey, did she read my hook?

Writing and Selling the Personal Essay: How to Write a Hook That Hooks Kristin Bair O’Keeffe says, “Not a paragraph. Not an entire essay. Not even, in most cases, two sentences.” She will not like my new hook, but she has really great information. Check out her new website: Christina Katz ~ The Prosperous Writer

So, with the help of stranger’s generous advice, family support, and lots of caffeine, it only took me 15 days to rewrite the hook. I managed to also include the remainder of the query in that time.  Mom thinks it's a winner! Here it is:

Wonderfully Dysfunctional - It Must be Genetic

A woman who laughs at funerals. A gypsy mother who refuses to wear a bra and a father who has two wives. A brother who sleeps under the coffee table and a sister who was kidnapped. A homosexual minister, a missing child, a pedophile grandfather and a feisty, sharp-tongued, red-headed grandmother who was longing to leave it all.

Buffi always knew her family was unusual, but she was lucky enough to escape that gene. Or was she? Joined by her siblings at the bedside of their dying grandmother, Buffi begins on a journey of self discovery as they recall stories of their youth including juicy family secrets, inappropriate practical jokes, abuse and betrayal. She is on a quest to find Normal but finds herself instead.

It Must be Genetic is about acceptance, forgiveness and the great capacity of love. The story is written from the perspective of a third generation divorced mother, Buffi, who realizes that the very traits that make her family dysfunctional may be the same traits that make it so wonderful. At 64,000 words, it is paced for a quick-and-easy read.
You did it Mom!!

I’m finally ready to submit to an agent. Wish me luck. Please support me with your honesty

-Buffi
http://www.imbuffi.com/

Thursday, February 4, 2010

20 Days to Write a Hook

I completed my manuscript at the end of 2009 and on January 1st set out to get published. I began by searching the inside covers of my favorite books, ones most similar mine, for clues about how the author managed to snag a publisher. I quickly came to the realization that my invitation to the publisher’s ear lies in the discriminating hands of my agent-to-be.

Where's my agent?
I was on my way to find my special agent, the one that will love me and my manuscript and spend every waking moment selling it to the most distinguished publishing agencies around. While there are a mind-numbing number of sites to find agents and publishers, AgentQuery.com was the best suited for the novice agent hunter (me). Search by genre, interest, location, favorite animal - okay I made that one up, but you get the gist. Found some agents that will love me, but wait, they don’t want a completed manuscript, they want a query letter. So I ask:

What the hell is a query and how do I get one?
Now all the writers are saying, “Duh.” But really, I had no idea. Remember, I have been stuck transcribing from my journal, taking harsh criticism from my reviewers, cutting whole chapters and digging deep into my soul to birth my manuscript. My ego has recovered, but my fingers still hurt. When you search for information on writing a book, I assure you that the word query never comes up.

Agents want a Query, I was delighted to find a ton of information on how to write a query. Here’s a list of my favorite articles on the subject – I promise they have not paid me to write this, but if they do, I’m taking the cash:

AgentQuery.com – “How to write a query”
GuideToLiteraryAgents.com – “How to trim Your query”

A query is the written commercial for you and your manuscript, your 70 seconds on stage, better make sure it’s one page, less than 250 words, includes the word count – not to be mistaken for the page count, clever – but follows the rules, creative – but not outside the lines, no problem. I could say that a query should read the mind of the agent and know how to keep him/her reading to the end. Or, I could open a huge can of “shut-the-hell-up” and realize if I can’t sell my own book, then how do expect an agent to? So I began the tedious task of writing my query, only to find out that, first I need a hook. So I ask?

What the hell is a hook and how do I get one?
Now all the writers are saying, “Are you kidding?” Okay, hook was an easier concept and made perfect sense. I found some inspiring examples on many websites, AlanRinzler.com being one of my favorites. Feel free to take a look at some of the articles that really helped me:

Alan Rinzler – “Hooks that snag great book deals”
Kimberly Wells – “Your Query Letter Hook”
FloggingTheQuill.com – “A revised query hook & a Flogometer prize”

It took me 20 days to write my hook and I’m still not sure if it’s good enough to capture the eye of an agent. I rewrote it about a hundred times. I started by writing little phrases and favorite words in my journal and eventually pasted them together. My sister loves it and my friend hates it, the danger of using friends and family as reviewers. But they're free and honest, two great qualities.

Not only did it take me 20 days to write the hook, it also took me that long to realize that I can submit my hook to agents, decide that it really sucked, re-write it and submit to the next agent. Yes, I may have blown my chance of snagging my favorite agent, but that’s better than spending six months revising my hook.

I re-write my hook in my head all day long and one of these days I'm sure I'll stumble upon the perfect mix of clever, informative and professional, but for now I'm using the best hook I have and here it is:

What do you think about my hook?
Wonderfully Dysfunctional – It Must be Genetic is the first in a series of memoirs about Buffi Neal, a career woman and single mother of two who joins her four siblings at the bedside of their dying grandmother and begins her journey of self discovery recalling stories of inappropriate practical jokes, abuse, betrayal and juicy family secrets, leading to the realization that her family is far from normal and she is not that different from the woman she wishes would die.



Please support me with your honesty.
-Buffi
http://www.imbuffi.com/