A Blogger Apology

Dear Zesty Nachos,

I Acquanetta Antoinette Ferguson, apologize for not being there for you, spending time with you. I’ve been a neglectful blogger, and for that I am ashamed.

Lately I have not expressed myself. I’ve only put up things to give away, but not giving any of me to you. Zesty, we’ve been together for over a year, and this time apart has been, well bad.

I am also sad to admit I forgot your birthday. I am a bad blogger. But no more. I vow to spend quality time with you. I am going back to how it started, how I would tell the world through you, how things affected me.

Zesty, me and you, well we are good for each other. I will still do giveaways, but I was never cut out to be that type of blogger exclusively. I know you shine, when I shine.

Starting with this apology, I will strive to give you what you need: my thoughts, my rants, my raves, my everything. Zesty Nachos, it is on.

Love

A blogger ready to kick some major ass!

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I need a swift kick in the patootie!

I miss writing. I am reading but not writing. I miss it and I do not know why as I kicked major butt las month for nanowrimo! Maybe I burned out? But I don't think so because I have many stories to tell I am just not writing or putting pen to paper.

I think my problem is I have a fear that my stuff is no good, which is just wrong on my part. I am even slacking on the blogging which is my second love. I think I need to just write like I am doing now and stop sweating the small stuff.

I also moved my laptop to a different location and I think this is another reason for the slacking. It is in my room versus my living room at my computer desk.

The long and short of it is I need to get back on the saddle and write. I am most happy when I am putting my thoughts out there for the world to see and keeping them bottled up only gives me a headache.

So some short term goals for the rest of 2009? Start the writing again everyday whether it is the blog or my story in progress. I have the ideas now it is time to start cooking with them. No more excuses. I am ready to see my writing published. Seriously. I've got one short story done and I am in the middle of editing, and as I stated earlier another in progress. I can do this.

And since I apparently am not the only one who feels this way I saw this post after I wrote the above and had to seriously smile! I follow "A Newbie's Guide to Publishing" and this list is why:

Newbie Writer Resolutions

• I will start/finish the damn book
  
• I will always have at least three stories on submission, while working on a fourth
  
• I will attend at least one writer's conference, and introduce myself to agents, editors, and other writers
  
• I will subscribe to the magazines I submit to
  
• I will join a critique group. If one doesn't exist, I will start one at the local bookstore or library
  
• I will finish every story I start
  
• I will listen to criticism
  
• I will create/update my website
  
• I will master the query process and search for an agent
  
• I'll quit procrastinating in the form of research, outlines, synopses, taking classes, reading how-to books, talking about writing, and actually write something
  
• I will refuse to get discouraged, because I know JA Konrath wrote 9 novels, received almost 500 rejections, and penned over 1 million words before he sold a thing--and I'm a lot more talented than that guy

It seriously tickled me because most of the others are ones I do struggle with! This list was compiled in 2006 and as 2010 approaches I see that these things apparently never change! So to say I am inspired is not a small thing! This blog post and list is just what I needed to get that swift kick in the butt! =D

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1981

This was a big year for me. I was in a class play. My reign as a klepto was officially over. I still had no boobs. I was turned down to be a cheerleader. I read my first young adult romance. I finally got a backbone. I was a double dutching jump roper until a girl with man feet jumped on my foot and sprang it. And like that, my career was over. My little sister was born. I could go on, but as you can see this year holds a lot of meaning to me. At least the stuff I remember.

BTW the TV pic I used? We seriously had this giant monstrosity in our home! Memories.

I was ten years old and in the fifth grade. It was in a shared class between two teachers. Yes I still remember their names. That is how much an impression this class made on me. Mrs Crittendon in the mornings, and Mr. Hamaguchi in the afternoons. Mostly what I remember from the classes is all the fun stuff, which we seemed to do a lot of! This is where Mrs. Crittendon took my love of Judy Blume further by having us act out passages from the books “Tales of the 4th grade nothing” and “Super Fudge.”

We also did mini readings from Shel Silverstein’s poetry. I swear I can still remember my ten year old self reciting the poem in which I can’t remember the name, but this bit of passage “If I eat one more piece of pie, I’ll die. If I don’t eat another piece of pie I’ll die.”

The big play we did in that class for the whole school (which I forgot to mention above, we did all of these mini plays/recitals in front of the whole school) though was Jungle Book. I will tell you this; my part was for one of the elephants. At first. The teacher saw how much energy I had, like way too much, and she switched me with a boy who was perfect for the slow moving elephants. I in turn became one of monkeys in King Louie camp. My god how do I still remember this?

We were so good; we also put on the play for the parents. We also did the whole play in fluorescent colors/lights. Pretty ingenious if you ask me. The lights were placed around the stage on the floor and all the scenery and us kids were painted with florescent paint. To make my part of the monkey come alive to the audience a cut out painted monkey head was taped to my chest. Seriously looked like monkeys dancing.

I also had my first slow dance in this class. It was not like junior high or high school where the dances were held in the gym or auditorium. This was just for the class. Well I remember the song, It was Stacy Lattisaw and the song was “Love on a two way street”.

I also learned how to line dance and what “dosy-doh your partner” meant. This is when I first found out that there was really a school like in the movie “Fame”. They were called Main Attraction (which at the time I did not realize you had to audition for!!) and they performed for us kids, basically recruiting for the School of Creative and Performing Arts. I was in and after their performance I begged my mom like for the rest of the 5th grade year to let me please go to the school.

I can go on and on, but this year was a good year, and after remembering it, it makes sense that this is the beginning of my love affair with books, and the need to perform. Thank you Mrs. Crittendon and Mr. Hamaguchi!

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1979

I am now in California. We moved when I was two months old so technically I am a Californian, minus two months. In 1975 my brother was born, and there went my only child status. Thanks bro.

I type the year and so many memories flood my mind like a tidal wave. So many things happened in this year. Where to begin? Let’s start off with the fact I was eight and in the third grade. I was in a class that the teacher was not very good or attentive. I think she hated her life. The kids in that class, I included, were absolute terrors. We sang, acted out, and were loud and opinionated. This is probably why I never became a teacher. But she got us all back. All the kids with the exception of a few got D’s and F’s.

Valley girls were all the rage. I did live in Southern California so it was pretty much the norm. I even had a dictionary which taught you how to speak like a valley girl. To this day I still say “like” a lot! I am still mad at my eight year old self for basically giving me the valley girl tongue. “Like totally gag me with a spoon” Ugh!

Aquafresh toothpaste was the brand new kid on the block. Well with the name of Acquanetta it was a lose-lose situation for me in the tease department. Kids are evil. Again this is why I never went into teaching.

For Christmas break my dad took me and my little brother back to Louisiana to visit. School was only out for two weeks but we stayed there a month. It was the first time I ever rode the Greyhound bus and as a child of eight it was fun and exciting. Not so much now.

This is also the year I was chased by a black cat all the way to my grandma’s house. I was out playing in the mud. When you’re a kid mud is so much fun. Apparently it is a necessity for those wanting to look younger by having their bodies slathered in the stuff. Go figure. Do you know that cat, which I happened to throw mud at by the way, chased me all the way with me screaming bloody murder? And when I got to her house that dang cat stayed in front of her door for like thirty minutes. It was waiting for me, no lie. Let’s just say I learned my lesson well that day.

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My son: An absolute Terror

My youngest who is fourteen, has been giving me grief since 7th grade. He is now in the 10th grade and has been on restriction before school started this term. The thing with him is he needs boundaries as he has trouble listening. And he also has a problem with lying.

Since the 7th grade, I've tried everything I could do to keep him in line. His whole attitude is him not caring, which if you're a parent is beyond frustrating.

I was going to college but had to stop because I had to make sure I was home when he got home from school. He got so bad in the last year that I had to go send him to his father to live (my ex). But that didn't work. And it became worse when I changed my job because I come home sometimes after 6 pm. But now my sister lives very close by.

As of now, he is doing better. His routine is he leaves home for school and after school goes straight to my sister's until I come home. So far he is getting an A in one class. I am hoping to keep him to this routine until I can trust him again. After all he is my baby boy.

While I have some control over him, I still feel out of sorts, cuz that boy has a mouth on him, that makes me act like my mom when I was his age. I can say it is not an everyday occurrence but when it happens, I see red.

Bottom line I want what's best for him. Even if I have to force it on him. After all it is my right as his mother. Just saying.

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Writer Suffrage

I think I realize why my writing has suffered. I am looking for encouragement from family members and yesterday (06/28/09), I had an epiphany: it ain’t gonna happen!

I’ve been writing or writing down story ideas since High School. I had quite a collection of ideas and short snippets, that if you were to ask me now what they were, I seriously couldn’t tell you.

Well when I was 18 I had an opportunity to go to Virginia and I went. Now I was a bit of a pack, still am. When I came back home after two months, I found out to my absolute horror, my mother threw out all of my writing. I was so angry!

She seriously took it upon herself to “clean” my room. What it actually was roomicide! I think I hated my mother at that moment, for not believing in my dreams. I have not thought about this incident for in like forever, but it just came back to me.

But the reason for the epiphany is that I had a funny idea for a story I was working out in my head, when I told my boys’ about it (very enthusiastically too) they both shot me down quicker than anything.

Some of their commentary?

“Wow that sucks.” “Nobodies gonna read that.” “Its better we say this than complete strangers.”

I was so hurt! I was excited and they shot me down. And that is when I realized I let my family get into my head and let my writing suffer. But no more. I want to cry at the wasted years.

While I’ve done most of my writing while I went school for an English major from 2003-2006, I still just kind of was waiting for someone to say “good girl”, “you can do it”, “we believe in you.” Guess what?

I believe in me.

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