Less is More. But More is More Too….

So I was reading a blog post the other day about how to write good blog posts.   Yes.  I realize that may sound silly that I'm blogging about reading about how to blog.  And while  some might call it procrastination...and by some I mean (so)ME...I prefer to think of this as working on my craft.  

Any-excuse-for-slacking….it was all about how you should write more frequent, but shorter posts to connect with readers.  To keep giving them constant updates. Frequent posts.  Something to come back for and look forward to count on.  And maybe add some videos.  And pictures. Because presumably our trusted reader has the attention span of a gnat and they want a less-wordy picturey kind of blog like some 3-year old would like.  (Sidebar....isn't that why people go to Pintrest, which bee-tee-dubs I am obsessed with.)

One of the many books that shows up when you Google
"books for 3-year olds".  Not going to lie...love a book
about dust bunnies.  Hysterical!

But back to the average 3-year old...I guess my readers may all be looking for this... (In my defense...I don’t have children or really know what developmental stage they are at by the age of 3, so apologies if I’ve offended any parents who are reading this and are all, “Uh, not for nothing, but my kids are reading Faulker...in French...by the age of three.”  Forgive me.  I raise plants.  By which I mean  have a few and keep them alive.  Barely.

But the less is more/more is more blogging goal is sort of like the experts who advise brief but frequent workouts.  How 20 minutes at the gym or with your workout DVD or anything not resembling lying on the couch is better than nothing.  And ever since the new job with the earlier start time and crosstown commute kicked in, I’ve had to adjust the morning gym time and while I’m slowly getting back on track with frequency, I think it’s time to switch it up and get a little more efficient with my time.  The life on the plateau isn’t a good one.  

So, less is more/more is more is the goal at the gym and it brings me to applying that same goal to right here, right now.  

But the problem is this. I can be a true feast or famine girl.  I can homebody and hibernate like a champ and then go out four nights in a row and barely have a moment to breathe.  I will have weeks where I crank out 14-hour work days. And then weekends where I won’t turn on the work computer.  Weeks where I won’t blog a single damn word and weeks when I write faithfully.  And even if it doesn’t all make it online doesn’t mean it’s not happening. 

Like with the morning gym, the getting out of bed before 5:30….not always an easy feat.  Espeically in the cold and dark winter. But once I’m up, I’m golden.  Most of the time. Same with writing.  Getting my butt in the chair can be a chore.  But sometimes, hopefully, once I get going I keep going.  

Don’t get me wrong…I get the block and will ramble on and on and cheat and start writing song lyrics or quotes just to write something and try to distract my brain into forgetting I’m blocked or writing total crap (kind of like swallowing handfuls of sugar to distract your mind from the hiccups to make them stop!).  Sometime it works and as much I try to be short and sweet, anyone who has been around me after two drinks (and sometimes before any drinks if I’m feeling that certain kismet comfort with you) I will go on and on.  And on.  I can chitter-chat like a champ.  And the blog becomes a ramble and not a quick hit.

That said, in the interest of starting over and rebooting my everything, I’m trying to discipline myself into more frequent and much shorter posts.  (Not working yet.)  But considering I can barely bang out two a month with my current…ahem… “system”…I’m pretty much open to anything.  Because, life is about to get in the way and I’m going to have to get all Sophie’s Choice again about how I spend my time. 

First up, this is going to kick in, in just a few short days:

 50,000 words in 30 days.  Been there. Done that. But can lighting strike twice?  (It’s actually my third charming time, but the first time I will admit I threw in the towel.  Rookie.)

I signed back up today and am committed to doing NaNoWriMo this year. And would highly HIGHLY recommend it to any writer out there who hasn’t given it a go. It’s an incredibly supportive, amazing online environment and a pretty cool thing to be a part of.  I’m up for the challenge. To giving it my all.  To hoping that it kick starts everything in my imagination and my heart and my head and GETS ME GOING.

I’ve been a raging writing slacker.  For the most part, the most I’ve managed is texting and some emails.  And on a few occasions, exercising my inner Papa with some of this:

A.k.a. – Write Honestly.  

Though not necessarily write anything I’d want anyone to see. 

And I’ve written some scattered lines on the back of envelopes and Post-Its.  And talked through ideas in my head about how to change…up the ante…bring the action forward…for The Legacy (you are still in my head and heart and I’m still totally confident there is a story in there that just needs another good flushing out and I just got two new books to help me improve on you…..and not just procrastinate from writing….working on my craft, dammit!!!)

So I’m trying.

But the moments I’m not working (to live) I have lost my desire to live to work on the passion (write).  It feels as pathetic as it probably sounds to abandon the life goal because other things got in the way.  Because there are times when all I want to do is veg and be mindless and watch less-than-challenging stuff on TV and go buy apples and English muffins from the fabulous so-close-to-home-I’m-dying Whole Foods and have super long leisurely breakfasts where I can read the whole paper and spend hours talking on the phone catching up with oldest and bestest friends and taking naps and shopping and doing anything and everything (procrastinating…dammit…that’s totally what I’m doing and I know it.  Own it.) that just lets me be. That lets me breathe easy.  That sometimes lets me be a slug.

I’ll admit it.  Sometimes I don’t want to work hard.  I want to take it easy. I want my day to feel easy. I want to escape. Judge me if you want. Call me lazy.  (or “maybe”).  But, whatever. I’m cool with it.  Surely I can't be the only one?  Tell me I'm not the only one.

So that’s kind of what I’m doing.  Bracing for the drama that may (hope not) unfold with this stupid hurricane and just have a day for me me me about me me me.  And it feels pretty damn great!

Stream from Netflix immediately and then
tune into Season 2 which is in progress.
So. Damn.  Good.

I’ve been catching up on some paperwork (drudge).  Some phone calls.  And some much-needed-on-a-cloudy-Saturday napping in between catching up on TV (critical).  And while I could (and at a later date will) go on about how great Scandal is (just discovered!) and I’m sorry, but how not-so-great Gossip Girl is (Rufus and fake Charlie….COME ON!  Chuck and Blair and happily ever after and end the show. Now.  Done.), I’m going to devote my final thoughts to the ridiculous trend of having TV characters plummet off balconies as a ploy to kill them off….or at least sideline them for a spell.

First up….my thanks to Chelsea Handler who showed a clip from 90210.  You may be surprised to hear that 1- this remake is still on and 2-I’m *not* actually watching it, and it was pretty easy to understand why.  Liam’s crazy girlfriend was blackmailing him into marrying her or some nonsense.  Last I watched he slept with Silver who had some fatal illness or another, but looks like their fairytale didn’t end well.  Moving on, in this particular scene, Liam and Crazy are fighting on the balcony of their posh beach house which makes no sense seeing as how Liam used to be kind of poor or in debt or something, but I’m getting hung up on the details as usu.  

LOL!  So bad.

Now somehow Crazy manages to lose her footing and fall backwards off the balcony.  

Lands flat on her back on the beach below. 

And then get swept away by a wave.  

Not.  Even. Kidding.  

Worst breakup scene ever.  Just when I thought Steve’s crazy-ass girlfriend, Laura, trying to commit suicide on the stage of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, while Brenda stood by crying and begrudgingly saying, “Sure, Laura, you be can play Maggie the Cat too.  Or maybe we can take turns playing her.  You can have the Wednesday matinee.  Just don't hang yourself in front of me because I'm still having issues dealing with Dylan dumping me for Kelly."  We all know no body puts Brenda in a corner.  They just send her to London when she's bad in real life.  Sigh.  Love her.  Mean it.

But back to the point (too late)….Crazy gets washed away by the tide and Liam just stands there watching. Solved his blackmail problem, I guess.  And could probably get back with Silver.  Now there's a lining for you.  

And while I expect this kind of crap from 90210 (the original and Version 2.0) I do not expect such nonsense from an intelligent, well-written, OMG of a show.  But I have to say, when Amanda fell off the giant staircase balcony to the COLD. HARD. MARBLE. FLOOR. at Greyson manor, and had blood hemorrhaging from her head, but still managed to take her earwig out to give to Emily…..then tell her to save the baby….and birth a baby before being put into a medically induced coma and apparently not even break a bone, never mind DIE…..I acutally yelled at my TV like was watching the Yankees blow a 10-game lead in the AL East.    

And I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…I can suspend disbelief like no body’s business, but COME ON Revenge.  You can do better.

I’m banking on some redemption next week. I’m hoping to no end that Daniel steps up and screws over Ashley and his father and comes out strong and gets back with Emily. But that’s just me looking for the happy ending. 

But more on that later….I've gone on long enough.  But what can I say? I’m pushing 5’10” and am was a total mean girl.  The short and sweet just isn’t me.   

Yet oddly enough, this song totally appeals to me....

Also have red lipstick envy.