Remember the commercial with the egg in the frying pan? The one where the voice looms and says:  ”This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs.” ? Well, this is my brain on stress.

Ever feel like you were being pulled in every direction imaginable–picture a Stretch Armstrong–I’m pretty sure if you tug hard enough, he’ll eventually break.

There’s a multitude of reasons why I feel like old Stretch. Whoever said raising children gets better when they’re older, lied. Seriously. There’s all kinds of how-to’s when they’re babies. But nothing when they’re teens and beyond. Their problems get bigger and harder to solve because dammit, they know it all. We, as parents were hatched. We never ever felt the way they did. Ever.  *sighs*

Friday, I had major plans. You know what they say about the best laid plans, right? Take my Grandma to do her thing then come back here to write. Right?

Wrong!

Was talking to a friend when Mark called. All I could hear was him breathing on the other end, so I thought he was joking around. Wrong. He said his head was killing him, he was dizzy and he was on his way home. I told him to pull over, to tell me where he was and I would come get him. Nope. He’s stubborn. So, I bit my nails and freaked out the entire time. A friend came by and I felt bad. You see, I was fighting with the dog kennel because while I was toting my GMa from place to place, Odee decided to leave me a present. Revenge poo. So, when Kath came here, to say I was a wreck would be an understatement.

Mark finally walked through the door and his color was horrid and he wasn’t standing up straight. So, I told him if I had to drag him kicking and screaming to the ER, that was what we were doing. He agreed to go, but he desperately needed a shower. That’s him. His arm could be hanging by a tendon, but if he’s the slightest bit dirty, no one is getting near him. Oh, but he doesn’t have OCD. Not at all! Finally get him up to the ER and it’s crazy. Plus as we sat there it sank in that he doesn’t have insurance. Not a good thing in these types of situations. The longer we sat, the better he felt, so he talked me into going to the doctors instead. She thinks he suffered a migraine. Time will tell. If the Treximet doesn’t work should he do this again, then she’ll order the $3000.00 tests.

Saturday morning, my oldest called to tell me that a boy–who is now a man–was shot. You can read the full story here, if you’re so compelled. Haven’t heard much on him, but it’s horrible. We had a baseball game and were invited to a couple of things, but neither of us felt motivated to go anywhere. It was a lazy kind of day. Mark was still feeling the effects of his headache and I think I came down off my stress-filled-adrenaline-rush.

Sunday, I felt antsy. Apparently, it was in the air around here. But, it’s football season. Of course, the Steelers lost which put the Ravens up above us and well, no one around here likes that.

How was your weekend?

The quickest way for my characters to start talking to me is to pick up a rag and a can of Pledge or pull out the vacuum cleaner. So, it wasn’t a big surprise when characters popped into my head and started chit-chatting. The only problem is, they’re brand-new characters and while I love and adore the idea because it’s so very near and dear to my heart, it’s so not for the line I was targetting and no matter how hard I try and wrap my idea around the concept, I’m not sure where it’d fit. The hero and heroine are screaming at me, so I can’t ignore them. They won’t let me. I’m going to play with the idea for the rest of the day and see where it leads me. I love it when the characters talk to me. I just hate it when I don’t know what to do with them. Perhaps I’ll be spreading these little wings in another direction….

My Guy wasn’t feeling well so well on Saturday, so I had to go to the baseball field to watch my ten-year-old practice. He decided to play Fall Ball after taking the Spring season off. So as I sat there contemplating all the things I could be doing at home—you know the endless amount of laundry, the dishes, dusting, vacuuming…all the domestic things required of me, and I’m watching these kids and listening to the coaches it occurred to me that practicing baseball is a lot like writing.

The more these kids get up to bat, the less afraid they are of the ball. They follow through with the bat with confidence. They’re not stepping back when the ball is pitched and second-guessing themselves. The same thing happens when the ball is soaring through the air. At first, they’re backing away, wincing away and then something magical happens. They catch the ball in their mitt and they learn it didn’t kill them. If the ball does hit them, they realize okay, it stung a little bit, but I survived. It takes practice. Lots and lots of practice.

So does writing.

People often ask me advice about writing. I haven’t totally figured that out just yet. I mean, I only have two books published and I’m struggling to figure things out just like everyone else. I don’t consider myself a pro and I don’t know that I ever will because I’m still learning as well. The funny thing is, I took some time off to reflect and I think it was the best thing I could do. I read a lot of books and I examined myself.

I’m the kid standing out in the outfield praying the ball doesn’t come to me. Because I know, chances are, I won’t catch it. The other two fly balls that came my way were flukes when I caught them. Right?

Wrong. I caught them because I practiced. I wrote every single day. I didn’t make excuses. I learned by reading and doing. Sure I got rejected and they hurt like hell, but I dusted myself off and I got right back in the game.

So that’s my advice. Don’t be afraid to catch your dream. If you strike out by getting a rejection, the next time you’re at bat, give it your all. Writing takes practice. Write every day, even if it sucks. The more you do it, the better you get. Keep reading. Know the market you’re targetting. That’s my advice. The rest I’ll leave to the experts.

Now it’s time to take myself off the bench, because I’m the coach of this game and I’m ready to play again.

To semi-quote the lyrics from Alan Jackson, I will never forget the day the world stopped spinning. I will forever remember sitting in front of the television on the floor trying to make sense of what I was seeing on The NBC Today Show. And I will never forget the sheer panic I felt when I heard there was a plane somewhere nearby over our police scanner.

Today’s blog is dedicated to all of the men and women who lost their lives that day, to their families, friends and everyone affected by the heinous crimes that were committed against so many innocent people.

May God Bless America and all the other countries out there waging their own war on terror.

Wow. I’ve been a bad, bad blogger. In my defense, my life has been utter chaos, but things are starting to look back up. Summer vacation is officially over. My kids are back in school, although the thought of my oldest graduating makes me well up with tears. This is his first year of lasts and he hasn’t a clue what he wants to do. He asked me the other day if I’d help him make a decision and I told him no. This was all on him–right or wrong. If he wanted my opinion, I was happy to give that to him. My daughter is a freshman. Another OMG moment for the mom in me. Two of them in highschool. But I refuse to say I’m getting older–nope, they are, but I’m not. I’m just getting wiser. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Writing had gotten shelved. We had a very yucky summer, if you can even call it that. Some of us are still waiting for it to show up. Will be interested to see if it snows here before the end of the month. Yes, I said snow. It’s not unheard of.

I started working on a synopsis for a blurb I wrote last June. Pretty happy with the rough draft, but man is this plotting before writing the book is hard. I’m teaching myself that I can do it if I put my mind to it. I stutter-stepped a bit, but once I wrote down the words  and I talked to a wonderful writing friend, the words began to flow again and my excitement level about writing and all the self-pity I’d felt magically disappeared.

This is a pretty random blog post, isn’t it? I’ll strive to do better next time.