On Writing and Poop
This past weekend I had the priviledge of attending a writing conference nearby. Great energy, great ideas, and I feel motivated to work on my novel (#4, in case you're counting). I've heard that it takes at least that many to get your feet wet in the how-to-write-well department, so I'm hoping this latest round of energy infusion will help propel me to a novel that will sell.
OTOH, I spoke with one person (a reader for the conference) who suggested non-fiction articles to sell to magazines. Not my passion, not my interest, but possible since I have the expertise and could very well do a good job at it. Something to think about, anyway.
Of course, since the conference was nearby, but a bit too far to drive on a daily basis, I chose to take the RV (kids with their dad). And, of course, the dogs. I chose a nearby campground and we spent a relaxing Friday before the conference, taking a leisurely walk around the almost-empty campground. Would I attend the social mixer? Me? Uh, no. Maybe if I'd gone with someone, but I'm not really a meet-and-greet-and small-talk kind of girl.
So, the conference brochure said comfortable casual, but I doubted that jeans and a sweatshirt bearing the Disney character Grumpy would be a good idea, so I chose corduroys and a blouse. To me, that's dressed up. To the rest of the modern world, it's ultra casual. Anyway, I leave the campground early, in the RV (I have no way to tow my car; all of my tow money went for the dog!). No sooner do I get on the main road and I hear the door rattling. Rats. I forgot to lock it. Oh, well, the conference is only 5 miles away. Two seconds later, the propane detector goes off. Fortunately I'd been warned that, not unlike a smoke detector that goes off every time I try to cook (don't laugh!), the propane detector also detects smells.
Well, I can't quite get up and turn it off while I'm driving, so this screeching is getting annoying. And that's when the smell wafts up to the driver's seat. A bad dog fart. Or so I hoped. I was wrong.
What I found when I stopped was poop. On my pillow. Down the wall. On my comforter. Did I mention I was dressed up for a conference?? So I clean it up as best I can. While my RV has more amenities than I originally thought I could afford, alas, it lacks a washer and dryer, which is what I really needed. Somehow I managed to clean up without getting crap on my nice clothes. Off to the conference I go.
Later, I drive back to the campground, park, hook up the electricity, and decided to change out of my monkey clothes into something more comfortable. A balmy breeze blew in off the water, so I stepped around the bed to get a pair of shorts from my drawer. Big mistake. I ended up stepping in a pile of poop that had been there since the morning incident, but I had missed. Did I mention I had sock feet??
Does anyone want a dog? Cheap?!
OTOH, I spoke with one person (a reader for the conference) who suggested non-fiction articles to sell to magazines. Not my passion, not my interest, but possible since I have the expertise and could very well do a good job at it. Something to think about, anyway.
Of course, since the conference was nearby, but a bit too far to drive on a daily basis, I chose to take the RV (kids with their dad). And, of course, the dogs. I chose a nearby campground and we spent a relaxing Friday before the conference, taking a leisurely walk around the almost-empty campground. Would I attend the social mixer? Me? Uh, no. Maybe if I'd gone with someone, but I'm not really a meet-and-greet-and small-talk kind of girl.
So, the conference brochure said comfortable casual, but I doubted that jeans and a sweatshirt bearing the Disney character Grumpy would be a good idea, so I chose corduroys and a blouse. To me, that's dressed up. To the rest of the modern world, it's ultra casual. Anyway, I leave the campground early, in the RV (I have no way to tow my car; all of my tow money went for the dog!). No sooner do I get on the main road and I hear the door rattling. Rats. I forgot to lock it. Oh, well, the conference is only 5 miles away. Two seconds later, the propane detector goes off. Fortunately I'd been warned that, not unlike a smoke detector that goes off every time I try to cook (don't laugh!), the propane detector also detects smells.
Well, I can't quite get up and turn it off while I'm driving, so this screeching is getting annoying. And that's when the smell wafts up to the driver's seat. A bad dog fart. Or so I hoped. I was wrong.
What I found when I stopped was poop. On my pillow. Down the wall. On my comforter. Did I mention I was dressed up for a conference?? So I clean it up as best I can. While my RV has more amenities than I originally thought I could afford, alas, it lacks a washer and dryer, which is what I really needed. Somehow I managed to clean up without getting crap on my nice clothes. Off to the conference I go.
Later, I drive back to the campground, park, hook up the electricity, and decided to change out of my monkey clothes into something more comfortable. A balmy breeze blew in off the water, so I stepped around the bed to get a pair of shorts from my drawer. Big mistake. I ended up stepping in a pile of poop that had been there since the morning incident, but I had missed. Did I mention I had sock feet??
Does anyone want a dog? Cheap?!
posted by Zany Mom at 9:09 PM
1 Comments:
Building up your reputation as an expert and as a write by doing non-fiction pieces for clip files isn't a bad idea, you know. Being an expert on the homefront was the one thing that perked up the agent I talked to.
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