Writer's Groups

Popular topic on the web, the "Writer's Group." The right one's harder to find then a husband these days. I've scoured the net and joined a different Writer's Group every 6 mos. I always encounter the same problems. Let's see if you do too because things are always better when experienced in a pseudo-mass hysteria.

1. Strict rule groups: You have to, you have to, you have to...
I don't know about you but the more rules the less writing I do. If I can only send out a part of my novel on the 12th day of the month but have to critique a story every day at 7pm or they kill my guinea pig, I'm not interested. A writer's group is there to support you, not make you a rules slave. Most writer's like to break rules anyway so... this group is not for me.

2. The Dead Zone...
When you first join there's a slew of 'hey how are you's and then nothing. Silence prevails. Send a story, get no response...ever.

3. The Overly Supportive Group
Now this is a great place for the beginning writer who hasn't developed a thick skin yet, but death to the experienced writer. It's the equivilent of having your own yesmen and women. Everything you do is brilliant. The easy way to recognize this group os to send in a bad poem, I mean a *really* bad poem like say:

I am a fish.
I swim.
I look good on a dish.
Mouse.

When the emails come pooring in that you're the next -insert famous poet here- you'll know that this might not be the right group for you.

4. The Overly Critical Group
Ah, the opposite of support! This is the group that critiques your rough draft as if it were your magnum opus. They're usually grammar police...which is great if your punctuation sucks, bad if you're Mark Twain and you're writing dialogue. No one notices the style of your work, just the misplaced comma in paragraph 27. You know the one underneath your sentance fragment they only found because they opened your story up in MSWord. This group is death to a beginning writer and annoying to the expert. If you're constantly getting rejected based on grammar sign up. If not move on to greener pastures...

So how do you find the group for you?

Keep signing up and hanging out. You need a group that's got at least 2 stories a week for you to critique. One that's not too nice to point out your glaring mistakes but compassionate enough to not point their fingers at a mistake and laugh. Eventually you'll find a group close to your genre, close to your style and close to your heart.

And maybe you'll see me there...with my bad poem. Please tell me it sucked.

Please.

On Being Difficult

People who ask for things get them. They also get a reputation as bitches, assholes or if we're being polite, "they're just a little difficult."

So what's wrong with that? I'm extremely difficult. Difficult to work with. Difficult to be dating and just in general a difficult person to handle. I hate being handled. I like being angry when I'm angry, sad when I'm sad and drunk on a Wednesday night for no reason. I get more difficult with prodding. I react badly to suggestions I settle for things and I will flat out weep with the horror of doing things the way the guy upstairs, downstairs or next to me is doing things. But I know why I'm difficult. I have high standards and they're not dropping any time soon.

Why am I difficult at work: I don't like stupidity, laziness or having to redo work. I like to know exactly what's needed and get it done right the first time. So if I'm told to draw an elephant in pink outfit, then get a call that it's supposed to be two elephants in green dresses, then a third call that it's one elephant in blue... I'm pissed. Shouldn't I be? I just wasted a whole lot of time. Unfortunately I'm not good at hiding it and I'm starting to think no one should.

If we have high standards, not impossibly high standards but good, honest ones, why lower them? Why drop them and drop them until there's nothing left? Does it make you happy to lower them? No. It makes you sad, beaten down and depressed. Sure we have to hold out longer for our standards and suffer a bit for them in the short term, but look what we gain! Bosses who have to be on the ball, work that gets done right the first time because the directions were clear and right.

Even in our lives, if you want a man who loves you, don't settle for one who just thinks you're kinda nice. Don't say, 'this is only temporary.' Go get what you want now. Live without extra things like cable so you can afford more trips if you're a fan of traveling. Tap water's cheaper and that extra money can add up if you're doing a job you love that doesn't pay great.

Be who you are. Be difficult. Get what you want. I maybe difficult, but I'm worth it. So are you.

Put an End to Hope

Why can't I understand that the way to get sex from a man is not to dress provocatively and give teasing kisses? If he's tired from work and intent on fixing his computer, he ain't goint to notice my subtle fragrences and extra eye make-up (to mask the dark circles under my dark eyes.) I need to strip to my panties and pretty bra. I need to stand in the center of the room. I need to say, "Me want sex now."

At least I wouldn't get my expectations up and lay all the guilt at his feet when he doesn't get the hints. I feel like we as women are so into scenarios and analyzing the situation from our hair, to the cock of our head to the cellulite on our asses to that weird hair that grows out of our chins that we forget we're the only one noticing that stuff. I cause my own depression.

This is my typical stance on the world of Hope. I think Hope is a cruel thing. I know everyone else in the world is a big supporter of Hope. But let's add to the above example. I want to go somewhere with my boyfriend. I plan out all day what I want to do and I hope he wants to go. I hope and I hope and I hope but I never ask him until he calls around 7pm. Guess what? He doesn't want to go and now I'm crushed. I'm angry with him. He's ruined all my hopes for fun tonight. Didn't he? No, he didn't do anything wrong. Sure it would have been nice if he had said yes but I gave him two minutes to decide. He probably needed time to psyche himself up for going out. I didn't give it to him. I just planned and hoped and got crushed. Now I'm hurt and angry and he's confused.

This happens a lot.

I hope he likes things. He doesn't. I resent him for it. But that's more about me then hope so let's leave the man that loves me dearly alone and go on to another example. Something that's clearer, more refined...

And you don't have to agree with me. But I might have lyme disease. (See how this is all about me? Maybe next column we talk about my self absorbtion.) Anyway, no ise worrying right? Hope for the best right? I don't know. I was possitive I didn't have it. My tests came back "questionably possitive" and I have no idea what that means. Hope was crushed that this was just some viral thing. I was so depressed. Now when I talked it over with my boyfriend, I actually felt better when I took the stance of, 'I have it and I'm going to deal with it.' He looks worried all the time and he took the stance of, 'I hope she doesn't have it.'

Is hope another word for "worry"? Worry with a happy spin?

Does this make any sense to anyone at all? When I accept the worst I feel relaxed. I go into a kind of zen 'if it is this way, I will deal.' I let go of hope and worry and I just be. Maybe they're two halves of the same outdated coin. Maybe we shouldn't have hope or worry. Just a zen like state of minute to minute.

I'm going to buy my boyfriend a CD. He desserves it for putting up with me and all my mental qualities. Oh, and nope, I'm not going to hope he likes it.

Loves to Whip.

When someone wrote "Loves to Bitch" on a heart at my factory job, I knew it was time to leave. Now unemployed except for a few freelance gigs here and there, I am the poorest I have ever been in my life. I have never felt as happy as I am and as criminally depressed as I am now. Life is like that, I guess.

My apartment is my prison, my home and my escape. I paint, I draw, I write. I sit in front of the computer too long and now maybe I'm starting this column/blog to let other people know how I feel. Also I'd love to hear how other people feel about life in general and their jobs.

I'm disturbed by the firing of employees who were smoking on their own time. I'm proud of the ones that refused to be tested. I'm scared that privacy is a concept that no longer exists. A thousand years before computers you could just pick up, leave town and become someone else. Now there is no escape from who you are and where you've been. God help us sinners 'coz everyone knows our sins.

How did we let our employers go as far as they're going? When did we all sit down and give up our rights? When did we say, "I'm okay with everyone knowing everything about me, even my kinkier thoughts." I don't remember saying it. I don't want anyone knowing how much liquor I drink or whether or not I smoke. I want to order lingerie off the internet in anonimity and whips and chains... maybe cellulite cream for my ass... What I don't want is to be hit the next day with offers for vibrators and diets. It's a little more than annoying and almost certainly embarrassing.

And then I go to work on Monday and there's a heart at work saying, "Loves to Whip."

Good thing I'm still unemployed.

Oh and if my future employer wants to know whether or not I smoke, I'll firmly tell her, 'That has no bearing on my work performance.' and nothing more.