The Challenge

Hello my sweets! It’s been a rough few months here at the Fizzy homestead. My heart crapped out on me. My mommy pirouetted off a porch and is still recovering. My laptop died a horrible death, taking with it most of my writerly possessions. I dropped my phone in a toilet at my first Midwest Writer’s faculty planning meeting. There was that creepy mofo in a gas station. I’m behind on literally everything. All the things. So, I need a win. I think I’m due. What I want is to write. And write a lot. Lots of pretty new words. It’s been a hot minute since I had the time to just sit down and let a story flow out in that magical way. Frankly, it’s been an age. And that’s what I mean to do. Write some shiny ass words. Lots of them. Last year, by freak accident, I woke up one morning with an urge to write a new story, and three and a half days later, I’d spewed out an entire manuscript. It was magical. It was bizarre. My hands were messed up, guys. Like, actual stiff finger claws. Totally worth it. By the grace of all the gods, this weekend, I appear to have no pressing matters to deal with. Nowhere to go. Nothing of import to manage. (Aside from the eleventy-billion things I’m behind on. Ignore those things for a mo’…) So I’m gonna write. I’m gonna write A LOT. Here’s my plan: After I fetch my sweet mini-lad from preschool Friday, I’m going to return home, hand mini-lad over to husband-man, and proceed to lock myself in the bedroom until Sunday night, at which point, I hope to have a completed manuscript. Last year it was a book in three and a half...

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The Gas Man Creepeth

Hell, my darlings! A few weeks ago, I had a thing happen. A creepy thing. And weeks later I’m still squinked out. Usual disclaimer of a serious blog peppered with GIFs that make me laugh because this is how I deal with tension, okayyyyyyyy? I’d gone to my very first Midwest Writer’s planning committee meeting (side note: MWW15 is going to be AWESOME.) and on my way home, I needed to stop for gas. And to pee. Because…reasons. I go into a gas station and of course the women’s restroom is occupied, so I sat down at a table that was hanging out in the far corner of the convenience mart bit to wait. I poked around on my phone, as one does. A minute or so later, this fella comes and sits across from me at my table. He was older than me, and for reasons I still don’t understand, wearing a baseball cap, but also holding three other baseball caps. Still tapping away on my phone, the guy randomly asked me, “Have you been getting any weird calls on your phone?” I sort of blinked at him. “I’m sorry?” “Have you been getting any dirty calls on your phone?” He asked again. “I’ve gotten a couple.” “Uh, no?” I said. “Sounds like you might have someone’s old number, or some prank calls.” I smiled at him and turned my attention back to my phone. See, I think back to that moment a lot and wonder if that’s what did it. Should I have not smiled? Not answered him at all? Waved a can of mace in his creepy face? Probably. The man then launches into a tale detailing how one time he got a call from a girl he assumes is my age and how she left...

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If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…

Hello my sweets! Okay, so this post might be a bit angry sounding, and it’s possible I might bother some. But stick with me, I swear I have good intentions. Plus, I promised my sweet pal Hay Farris I’d do a Fizzy Pulpit post in her honor, so… I know most who read this blog of mine are writers, but this really applies to everyone who dares venture onto the interwebz. This is my solemn plea: Could we please, PLEASE maybe not be judgmental assjackets to people all the time? I see it everywhere. People making fun of people online in these pretentious, judge-tastic ways that seem to say how much better someone is than someone else because they do this properly and *scoff**chortle**snark* at those who dare do otherwise. And oh my damn what is with the rash of “news” outlets going full-tilt bitchy bullies lately? In one article they are touting how picking on someone is totes wrong and in the very next article it’s LOOK AT THESE BASIC BITCHES WHO LIKE FALL LULZ. I swear to you I’ve seen people post things like, “If you even remotely like this book/song/show/beverage please do us both a favor and kill yourself/unfriend me/get out of my life.” What. The. Actual. Fuck. Seriously, what even is that? Or maybe you post things that are important to you online. But see, I don’t agree with them so let me subTweet or write an article about you or post a passive aggressive Facebook status in your general direction. Now, I can already see some of you saying, “You are doing the same thing, Miss Hypocrisypants!” Ahh, but this is not directed at one person in particular. Hell, it’s not even regarding one social media platform specifically. Every day I hop online to check...

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Attack of the Episode

Hello my darlings! Okay. So. Here’s what happened. It’s been an unfathomably busy summer here in Fizzyland. Lots to do, kids to raise, mom fell off a porch, you get the idea. All of this has sort of led to me being a bouncing ball of stress for the last four weeks or so. Example: At Midwest Writer’s this year, which I have attempted to blog about multiple times and absolutely will post soon, I cried in someone’s face when they gave me a pie. Seriously. Right in her face. My hubs theorizes that perhaps it’s because I’m doing all of my big adult life stuff all at once. Raising the small children, starting a career, dealing with aging parents. I won’t lie, it would be cool if certain things spaced themselves out more, but it’s life, yeah? I’ve been balancing the best I can, pie sobbing aside, and soldiering on. My porch diving mom had surgery two days before MWW, then I come home to a hubs about to leave on a conference trip, my daughter starting school, and GISHWHES all happening at once. I was starting to crack a bit. Last Thursday, I got a migraine. Not rare by any means. But this one was a dick and no matter what I did, it wouldn’t get even a little better. My migraine medication has written on the bottle that a second pill *can* be taken two hours after the first pill, but I’ve never done so. I know this medicine is hardcore and I didn’t want to like, cross the streams. That should tell you how bad this migraine was. It made me cross the streams. I took the second pill. And within about thirty minutes, I was fairly sure I was dying. I can handle pain....

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Conversing with Grapefruits

Hello my loves! All right. Gird yourselves. I’m angry. And I mean, shaking, profane, let’s take this outside angry. (By outside, I generally mean into private chat online. Because don’t really punch people, okay guys?) But, as angry as I am, I am going to be very careful. Because if I spout off with the feelings I’ve got racing through my brain, the people who need to read this blog just won’t. Fair warning, there could be some triggery definitions below. *deep breath* The state of Indiana had very tumultuous week. A federal judge struck down a gay marriage ban and for three days, same-sex couples all over the state raced to get hitched. By Friday, our states’ Attorney General filed an emergency motion effectively halting any further marriages. Having been born and raised in Indiana, my social media feeds were very vocal with opinions on what was happening in our fair state. Some people were furious at first, then thrilled. Some were elated at first, then devastated. I have my own opinions and feelings on the week, but I’m not here to give you opinions today. I’m here to give you facts. FACT: noun: something that truly exists or happens : something that has actual existence That was taken from Webster’s Dictionary. That is the definition of what a fact is. Still with me? Ace. During the hullabaloo in my state, there were arguments and rhetoric flying in all directions. I generally know enough to stay out of them. It’s like never reading the comments section on articles. You aren’t going to gain a damn thing doing it. But every once in awhile, I will get pulled into an innocent conversation that suddenly turns into sheer and utter nonsense. And every time I hate myself for falling for...

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