Piss and Vinegar

English: Vinegar & Olive Oil

English: Vinegar & Olive Oil (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mrs Fringe and guilt go together like oil and vinegar.  Sure you have to do all that mixing, blending, emulsifying to get them to unite, but once you do they make sense.  Unlike this analogy, but I’m under the weather and Flower Child is home sick today, so that’s the best I can do.  Besides, I’m a big fan of vinegar, have no less than seven  different kinds in the fridge at all times.

And I just had a little mishap on the terrace.  I keep a big jug of plain white vinegar for cleaning the reef tank equipment, very effective, inexpensive, doesn’t harm the critters–NOT that anyone should add vinegar to their tanks, reef or otherwise, but it doesn’t leave behind crazy levels of nitrites, nitrates or other nasties reefers don’t want measurable amounts of in our reefs.  I got a huge bottle at one of those big box stores for people who like to purchase 72 rolls of toilet paper at once, and left it on the terrace.  Because it’s big.  And I have a small apartment.  Well guess what?  Vinegar freezes.  And then it expands, and then the plastic bottle leaks, and then the terrace reeks of vinegar.  Maybe it will keep the pigeons away.

What was I talking about?  Guilt.  My most recent guilt episode is one that’s old and familiar, the guilt of slow writing.  Everyone has their process, I know this.  Some people write faster than others.  Know it.  But you know when you’re already feeling low, and then you read just the right thing to make you feel like shit?  And then you look for more things to read to make you feel worse because what the hell, you’ve been stuck and not making progress on the WIP, plenty of time to read about other people’s mind boggling daily word counts.  They are productive.  They don’t make excuses.  They are working on their 87th draft of their 120,000 word manuscript–pared down from 210,000–while I continue to watch the word counter at the bottom of my page stay at exactly the same number.  Which is still too far off from my 70,000 word goal of my first draft.  They are disciplined, they write, they earn money, they raise children, they work out, they save the fucking whales and feed croutons to the pigeons in order to soak up the excess vinegar.

Well I was stuck.  And I pondered.  And then I was more stuck.  And then I pissed and moaned and whined.  And then I stopped reading about the fabulously prolific and closed the open Astonishing file and said I’m taking a break until I’m not.   And then I found myself pondering again.  Yesterday I was able to unstick myself, wrote a little.

This morning I was cruising the writer’s forum and saw this link.  Hallelujah, I have found my people at last!  My perfect critique partners.  Ok, it’s true that all except one are dead, but doesn’t that sound like my pace?  Bed, grave, is there really that much of a difference? Just my speed.  Lying down is my favorite! and is there anything more secure than being in your own bed?

Couple in Bed

Couple in Bed (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was inspired, wrote more than a little today but not anything another slow writer would boggle at.  Not in bed, in my corner on the couch, where I always write.  Half lying, half sitting, laptop on my lap.

Come to think of it, I got a new ottoman last week .  Maybe the next time I’m stuck, I can try writing from the other end of the couch.

Perfect height, on clearance!

Perfect height, on clearance!

 

 

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18 comments

    1. Thanks–have fun in the memoir writing course!

      Also, bwahaha! I can’t wait for Husband to see your comment, he insisted it wasn’t teal–but the store even had it labeled teal. 😀

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  1. I did not know there were that many types of vinegar 😀

    I don’t think I need to tell you what I would say about the slow writing, right…:p

    You’re so close, though. I mean, it doesn’t feel like it, but you are, and it will end, and it will be glorious and smart–like really fucking disgustingly intelligent–and full of commas 😀

    And pondering counts…pondering is part of the process 🙂 Yuppers.

    But today’s words are indeed impressive to me, the person who is deleting a sentence and adding a sentence over and over, avoiding the entire chapters that have to happen…:p Blrlhgrgh

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    1. Lesse, plain vinegar, rice wine vinegar, red wine vinegar, sherry vinegar, champagne vinegar, balsamic vinegar, the really really good fancy $$$ balsamic….Yup, lots 😀

      I am feeling better, so I’m stomping my foot and agreeing, pondering does count. Greases the wheels and all that.

      You are the awesomest person to ever poop on my words, yanno. But I neeeeeed those commas. All 385,492 of them.

      And thank you. Now leave that sentence alone, you don’t need it. Bingo wings are, however (see what I did there? with the commas?), necessary.

      xoxo

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  2. I laughed at your disclosure of keeping 7+ types of vinegar in your fridge, until you listed them…and I realized I have most of the same farking ones. Whoops.

    I am so glad you have a plan. Plans are awesome…until the guilt sets in for not keeping up with the plan for whatever reason. Stupid guilt. Guilt should be outlawed in the writerly world. Then again, I got a big ‘ole bottle of Bailey’s tonight, so I probably won’t feel much guilt (or much of anything for that matter) after 8 PM for the next two weeks or so.

    Wait. What was I saying? Right. Love the post. 😉

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    1. You see? I’m not nuts. Well, maybe a little, but not because of the vinegars 😉

      I think we should come up with a no guilt slogan for writing. But first, pass the Bailey’s! 😀

      Thanks!

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    1. Hah! Funny enough, I think that’s a good portion of my angst. Astonishing feels like the “right” genre, for right now, anyway. When it comes to fiction, it works with my “voice.”
      For a long time I was writing light romancey stuff, and could never nail it.

      If I ever write a memoir though, I think you’re right, it would have to be one that rode the humor section. I shall call it PRATFALLS. 😉

      Thanks, Elizabeth!

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  3. Ahh, mrs fringe. Such is the spice of life, those crazy moments that makes us laugh, or cry, or simply give us pause and which, incidentally, I might have mentioned, just today, in my own little blog. . .

    😉

    I just got off the phone with a nurse from the hospital, regarding next week’s little exploration of my dainty bits–a prospect I don’t relish, as you know. Fool that I was, I thought I understood the nature of that beast in sum. I was so wrong. The night before the fateful day, I get to give myself an enema.

    I’ll take your stinky terrace now, to take my mind off more unpleasant things.

    xoxo kk

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    1. Crazy moments indeed.

      I gotta tell ya, the enema sounds like (excuse the expression) a bunch of bullshit to me. They used to tell women they needed enemas before giving birth. So not true.

      But, I’m not a dr, my orifices slam shut at the thought of it all, and no matter what I’m wishing you the very, very best. xoxo

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  4. *gently pats*

    There, there. 😀 When I did Nano last year, there were people who did 100K in 2 weeks. What the hell were they on?? I comforted myself by thinking, “Hrmpf, they’re just writing their names over and over!” Tell yourself that, Mrs. F! 🙂

    Anyway, your writing is amazeballs. Some things just shouldn’t be rushed.

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