Your Name Here

Sometimes I think--no, I know--that I am some kind of special. In other words, I’m a weirdo, oddball, fruitcake, odd bird, crazy, strange. Basically I’m exactly what this blog claims: a freak.  I am really okay with this and, as a matter of fact, if someone called me one of these things, I would probably thank them because being normal is on my list of things I never want to be.  Normal sucks. It’s boring and would make for boring stories to read. I mean, how many times would you read a story about a woman that woke up, ate, worked and went home, all the while feeling happy. The answer is none, zero, zilcho, nada, squat. Nobody would read that. It's our quirks that make us interesting and provide great writing material. I choose to wear purple, not black. I choose to embrace my inner ice cream flavor and that isn’t  vanilla.

One thing I love to think about are names for characters. Okay, just names in general. It is one of my many, many quirks.  I love names that mean something. I love names that are funny. I love names that rhyme. I love names. Really, it’s true. One time, Writer Freak, Julie told me about a time when she was picking up her child from school. There was another parent there yelling out her child’s name to get their attention. What was that name? Emesis. Yes. That’s right! Emesis. At first I laughed. Then, I started to think about the poor kid. Finally, I wondered if the mother’s pregnancy centered around massive morning sickness.  Whatever the case, this was one of the most epically bad names I have ever heard. It BELONGS in a book!

©2012-2013 ~BaconOfFury

Now that you know that I love a good name, it is about time I let the proverbial cat out of the bag.  I name everything. Seriously. EVERYTHING. Okay, not everything. My wood stove is still the wood stove (thought? Maybe I name the wood stove liar. As in, liar, liar pants on FIRE. I will revisit this later.). But I name a lot of things. Some names I stole from television and books, other names I came up with all by myself. I’m fairly certain it drives my husband crazy. My TV is named Stevie; this one is stolen straight from an episode of FRIENDS. My laptop has a green skin and I named it Kermit. Our big desktop is named Scooter the Computer. My green Hummer has two names: General Waverly (from my Favorite Christmas flick, White Christmas) and Sarge. My husband’s truck is named Newbie, because it was the first brand new vehicle we have ever owned. My Kitchen Aid is named Julia (after the great Julia Child). My leaf blower is named Rubin (after The Hurricane himself). I even let other people join in the fun. My mom named my iPhone Irene. My nephew named one of my chickens McQueen. My husband named our oldest dog, Remington. Okay. So a dog needs a name, but he still named it before I could, which is impressive. I named our second dog Scout, after the main character in my favorite book, To Kill A Mockingbird. Her middle name? Sonner (sounds like honor with an s). Now say the two names together. I’ll wait for you to figure it out. Funny, right? Well, that one backfired on me because she is JUST like Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird, full of spunk and energy and a total Tom boy. Plus, she is such a weirdo and a funny dog. I blame my naming skills. So as you can plainly see, I like to give things names. And I suppose that given my profession, this is a good skill to have.



It takes me months to land on a good name for a character in one of my books. It just HAS to fit and sometimes those characters develop over time. So, inadvertently I change a character’s name a few times before I find the right one.  It makes me wonder if I am the only one name-obsessed in the writing industry. What is the “normal” process for finding a character’s name? Or is there one at all? Do I want to be normal? My way seems to work for me. And normal is boring. I’m thinking that a normal name would be something like Bob, Steve, Mark, Mike, Jane, Ann, Mary, etc. Those names are great. Really! They are! But not for my eccentric mind. I would choose something like Hoyt, Magnus, Colonel, Kennedy, Lara, Charlize…you get the picture. 

So my challenge to you? Do something weird! Be eccentric! I recently read a quote from a 90 year old woman columnist somewhere on Facebook that said, “Don’t wait until you are a senior citizen to be eccentric. Wear purple now.” What’s your purple?

Stephanie D. Birch is the nuttiest flavor of ice cream of all the 31 flavors. She wears purple when everyone says she should wear black. She stands up when she sould sit down. She tells the truth when others would remain mute. She is bold, creative and just this side of crazy. If you want to join her, comment on your eccentricity. To contact her, visit www.stephaniedbirch.com or email her at birchwordnerd@yahoo.com 

I believe

I’m struggling to remember an attribution for a quote. I’m too lazy to go searching for it—Google didn’t have the answer, and I’m out. But I think it’s from a movie. Paraphrased, it’s this: People don’t change. They get better or they get worse, but they don’t change.

Photo courtesy of Sean MacEntee

I think it’s nice to believe that people will change. That a person with bad habits, like someone who has a problem with fidelity, will suddenly experience a change of heart and be true to that one love of his or her life, forever. That someone who makes cutting little remarks meant to take down other people’s self-esteem—those sneaky insult/compliment types, where they’re like all wow, I love your sweater, it really brings out your eyes and hides the fact that you have a giant ass—will suddenly be nice as pie and sincere and never say jackwagon things that make you want to punch them in the face. I don’t believe they will change, but I always hope. I never really learn. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, because just because they verbally crotch punched me once doesn’t mean they will do it again. 

I wish I could talk people out of letting those un-changer types crotch punch them repeatedly. It would save so much trouble if people knew that they were going to get hurt ahead of time. It’s not realistic. If someone I loved and trusted implicitly had sat me down and very earnestly explained to me that I was making a huge mistake right when I was in the middle of making a huge mistake, I’d like to think I’d be different than 99 percent of people and I would have listened. But I know myself. I wouldn’t. Because it’s not how people work. It’s not really how the world works. We all have to make mistakes and get hurt or there would be no need for breakup songs. Or love songs, for that matter, because we’d all be practical and smart and logical and we’d listen to older, wiser, more experienced folks and save ourselves some trouble.

So here’s to making mistakes and having faith in people even when they don’t deserve it. Here’s to getting out there and making that mistake, even if it hurts like hell, because I tried. I put myself out there and tried. Here’s to rejection and cruelty and letting it all roll off my back. Here’s to silencing the voice inside my head that says can’t, won’t, don’t even try. To cutting out the vocal chords of those who would pull me down or push me down or tell me that it’s not worth my time or trouble. Here’s to silencing the negative me, my naysaying and faithlessness in human nature. Screw the unbelievers. I believe in change. I believe in trying. I believe. I believe. I believe. 

What do you believe in? Can people change? Is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results really the definition of insanity, or is it just persistence and determination? Leave your comment below or pigeons will (might) poop on your head. 

Julie Simmons-Wixom is a true believer. Email her if you want to talk more. 

Ringing in 2013: Resolutions and Other Nonsense

It’s New Years Eve. Yup! Soon we will see DUI checkpoints all around town; the bars will be packed full of people partaking in a fair amount of good cheer, and noise makers will sound around the globe at the stroke of midnight. Happy New Year! And what is in store for us in 2013? Well, usually we pick a litany of goals, call them New Year Resolutions and then promptly fail at keeping them within roughly a month. Why do we do that? I blame commercials and celebrities, and well, I blame anything other than my own lack of commitment and motivation. Because who really wants to blame themselves? I’ve heard the saying that when you point the finger, you have three fingers point back at you (Don’t worry. I’ll wait while you try it). But you know what I say? When you point the finger, that person better take the blame because your hand easily looks like a pretend gun and you talk them into playing Cowboys and Indians with you and act crazy by hollering, “bang! bang!” Kind of like when you were a kid, but you can’t play that anymore because it isn’t politically correct, which kind of sucks because I liked playing that game. I was awesome at gun draws, but whatever. I digress.

So, picture this. You are sitting at home watching your favorite show and that Weight Watchers commercial comes on with Jessica Simpson or Jennifer Hudson saying just how easy it was for them to lose weight through Weight Watchers. We get inspired and want to lose weight too. We think, yeah. This will be easy, but then it isn’t at all. Why? Well, if I had a bunch of money like those two celebrities, maybe losing weight would be easier. I mean, in real life we don’t have nannies, a personal trainer, a landscaper, an interior designer, a personal assistant, and a private chef.  We work hard! Some of us work 80 hours a week, keep a clean house, make meals for their family, keep their yard maintained by themselves, and figure out how to organize their own social calendar just to name a few of the things we normal people do. With all these responsibilities, it is no wonder that we fail. So, I have a proposition. Yes, a radical solution to a complex problem.

I say we start a campaign to get celebrities to fund just one of these “life helpers” to us, the little guys.  Give me your personal chef, Jennifer Hudson. Give the next person your nanny, Jessica Simpson. I bet you it will make losing weight through Weight Watchers that much easier. What a concept!!

I think I need a red hooded cape like this

But in all honesty, we should really take it easier on ourselves regardless of the resolution or maybe we should go for something totally insane. I mean it. I’m going to resolve to organize a flash mob in 2013. Or maybe I will create my own alter ego and spend some time in the shoes of said alter. I think my alter ego should wear a cape like red riding hood, or a tiara. Nah. Tiara’s are a sign of refinement and that is something I am definitely not. Although I think my alter will have a job at an organic applesauce shop and will talk with extreme exuberance about the various varieties of apples and smell of cinnamon-y goodness. My alter will wear hemp shoes and carry a leather purse—a walking contradiction. Should I mention that I already own the hemp shoes?  Oh how fun!  But really, I guess I should probably decide what I want to resolve to accomplish this year because 2013 is breathing down my neck. And I’m torn about what to choose. Regardless, I’m going to try to be realistic, or maybe not. Because succeed or fail, I will have one thing to fall back on, an epic 2013 resolution.

 Happy New Year!!

Stephanie D. Birch has served pancakes in the Flapjack Olympics. She plans to flip again in the 2013 games with has no plans to retire. She has not used performance enhancing substances to attain her pancake flipping sports career.

Holiday musings and other craziness

I felt like writing something today and sharing it with y'all. I'm off script, because it's not my day to post but it's also the Sunday before Christmas so I'm thinking most people are busy anyway, so what the heck.

My best picture face

I’ve got another face growing on my face. You can’t see it yet but I can feel it, hovering there under the surface like the gopher from Caddyshack, waiting to emerge and mock me. It always happens near the holidays, when there’s the highest chance of photographic evidence. I’ve managed quite sneakily to ensure that there aren’t many photos of me in existence by being a photographer and having the nicest camera that no one else (conveniently) is able to use. I hate having my picture taken. Not because it steals your soul—it does, but that’s not why. It’s because I always make a weird face in pictures because I hate posing. I like silly or goofy pics but if you want me to be serious forget it. I have a look that’s one part boredom, one part confusion and just a dash of defiance and mild constipation.  Fun for the whole family. 

Super cool poser type kid :-)

Little kids like having their picture taken (not babies though—babies are the cutest but super rude about photos) and beautiful thin people, but everyone else pretty much hates it. I know because I walk with a camera most of the time, and about ninety percent of adults will say no please, I hate having my picture taken. And since digital cameras were invented, if I do convince someone not to flip me the bird for five seconds so I can snap off a shot, they always want to see the picture after it was taken and then they want you to delete it because they always think they look fat or ugly and they don’t appreciate me saying that it’s not the camera’s fault if they are fat and ugly so why should I delete this picture that I took? People actually hate that comment.

This morning it is so windy and stormy that I’m quite concerned for the poor little elves and reindeer enslaved by a so-called jolly fat man. They shouldn’t be out in this kind of weather. And I know always in pictures and storybooks it’s all beautiful moonlit nights and lots of stars and whatnot, but in reality they must hit bad weather more often than not. And why no one ever protests this whole fiasco is beyond me. Where is PETA? Where is OSHA? Where is CPS? Okay so I don’t know who is in charge of protecting elves. Legolas, maybe. Or is that crossing mythical genres? I don’t know.

Totally good elf protector

 But anyway I feel sad thinking about poor Dasher and Dancer and Rudolph. Not Prancer though, he seems like kind of a jerk, based on the movie. And Comet and Cupid and Vixen but not Donner either, because he makes me think of the Donner Party which not only wasn’t a fun party but even though I know Donner probably doesn’t eat human flesh I can’t be sure so he’s out of luck on the sympathy front. Zombie flying reindeer would be exceptionally dangerous during the zombie apocalypse. Anyway, Donner is out. Blitzen too, because he sounds like a big football player or Nazi but I’m not sure why. I hold him responsible for leaving Rudolph out of the Reindeer Games. It seems like something Blitzen would do. 

I think about things like this near Christmas time. Because I’m concerned. Because I care. Because I don’t actually like the idea of flying reindeer and fat men in my chimney. That sounds sort of dirty. But really. What if the structural integrity of my roof is compromised by the weight of the sleigh and the reindeer and an obese man jiggling his belly like a bowlful of jelly around on top of it? And who jiggles jelly, anyway? I just spread it on toast without shaking of any kind. That seems uncalled for. And not very merry. And this is a merry time of year, despite people who try to ruin the merriment.

Normal reaction to me with a camera

When I say Merry Christmas, I mean it. I am not politically correct. I think people who throw major fits about that kind of thing are jerks. Because I don’t say “Merry Christmas” in a way that secretly means “Screw you and your stupid beliefs, you should believe what I do and I don’t really want you to have a merry anything, I am just saying it to be a jackwagon.” If I wanted to call you a jackwagon I would. I would just walk right up and say hey you are stupid and I hate your face. But I don’t. Merry Christmas just freaking slips out, people! I say it because I think you look like a nice person and I want to wish you some cheer. All you gotsta say is hey, I’m Jewish, and I will be like cool, Merry Chanukah friend. Or hey, I’m Chinese, and I’ll be like happy December or whatever, I respect your beliefs and I think you're cool, and my words were only meant to convey my sincerest well-wishing on you today. It’s like when you say happy birthday to someone and instead of saying thank you they’re like I don’t celebrate birthdays. Okay, jackwagon, I retract my good vibrations that I was sending your direction, and am now sending you a voodoo curse that will cause a rash on your giblets. Because obviously that’s what you want and deserve. You’re welcome. 

Crazy hair elf type kid

I Googled all the holidays in December, so here’s a list:

• Ramadan (Muslim)
• Eid al-Fitr (Muslim)
• Saint Nicholas Day (Christian)
• Eid'ul-Adha (Muslim)
• Fiesta of Our Lady of Guadalupe (Mexican)
• St. Lucia Day (Swedish)
• Hanukkah (Jewish)
• Christmas Day (Christian)
• Three Kings Day/Epiphany (Christian)
• Boxing Day (Australian, Canadian, English, Irish)
• Kwanzaa (African American)
• Omisoka (Japanese)

The guy who has to put up with me

I have to say I’m actually all kinds of curious now about all these holidays. Boxing Day sounds fun and sort of violent, which I’m okay with. Fiesta of Our Lady of Guadalupe sounds like an awesome party with good eats. Maybe I’m generalizing but ever since I decided that Cinco De Mayo is about the best party ever because it involves mass quantities of delicious Mexican food, I have been all over anything that has a built-in excuse for tamales and margaritas. Epiphany Day sounds like a time when everyone should walk around with a giant light bulb over their head that periodically lights up every time they have an epiphany. That would be awesome. Anyway. Happy holidays in a very sweet, sincere, politically correct way to all my friends and their diversity. And please don’t yell at me if I accidentally throw you a Merry Christmas once in a while. It’s spoken with the best of intentions, I promise. Because if I say that to you I love you or at least like you a little, and wish the very best for you all the time, not just in December. 

Julie Simmons-Wixom is most likely completely toaster-strudel nuts. You can email her or just leave a comment about her craziness. She likes it. 

Awesome/Fail List

The time of year people classify as ‘the holidays’—basically  from the last week in November until after January 1—is filled with events, ideas, traditions, both good and bad. The Writer Freaks have decided to compile a list of things we love and things we hate about this time of year. Things that make us do a happy dance, and things that make us have face-melting breakdowns like in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when they open up the Ark and everyone’s face melts. We were going to do a pass/fail but it got confusing because when you say ‘pass’ it sounds like you’re passing on something, not like it’s a passing grade. So anyway, this is our Awesome/Fail list for ‘the holidays’. We hope you enjoy.      

• Awesome: Classic Christmas movies—White Christmas, Miracle on 34^th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life
• Fail: Remakes of Christmas movies or any new ones on the Lifetime Channel starring Melissa Joan Hart, Jenny McCarthy or Mario Lopez. 
• Awesome: Christmas lights and decorations, especially when you sneak into people’s yards and pose inappropriately for photos with their inflatable decorations.
• Fail: Christmas light displays so blinky and bright they induce seizures and draw traffic from miles around 
• Awesome: Christmas baking and eating
• Fail: Christmas calories and pounds. Actually that’s an epic fail. We hate feeling like we shouldn’t eat all the goodies, but they’re so delicious and they come around only once a year and especially stuff like Julie’s grandma’s famous fudge and her pecan balls (plus ‘balls’ – hee hee) that we only get a shot at once a year. We feel like we would gladly forego any treats for the entire year just to be able to eat whatever we want at Christmas. 
• Awesome: Watching kids open presents and be so super excited
• Fail: Watching kids freak out, fight, throw fits, and generally meltdown because of over-stimulation and too many goodies coupled with the fact that they know Christmas is only once a year and once it’s over, they don’t know what to do with themselves. Much like birthdays or getting married, it’s like a huge letdown when something you’ve been waiting for and anticipating for an entire year is over. 
• Awesome: Christmas trees and inside Christmas decorations 
• Fail: When the cat runs up said Christmas tree and knocks it over, or when the dog thinks the ornaments are for chewing and ends up latching on to chew, buts get a piece of the light strand and gets shocked. Or how about when the cat eats your Christmas garland and throws it back up on your bed.    

• Awesome: Christmas Carolers in old time-y clothing, hot cider, cookies and joy at the local Main Street tree lighting. 

• Fail: Seeing a bunch of middle aged women performing a dance routine to “Gangnam Style” in the middle on the town during the tree lighting festival.This really happened. Ugh. 
• Awesome: Making up words to various Christmas songs or making fun of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” with your friends and family until you get mega belly laughs. Stephanie’s favorite is the fact that this song demands that you bring some figgy pudding and that guests won’t go until they have some. Such a demanding crowd! 
• Fail: Hearing Lady Gaga’s version of White Christmas. That doesn’t induce laughter, it just makes us sad. Especially when she adds her own weird verses about snowmen and their coal eyes. When normal people talk about snowman eyes it isn't weird, but when Lady G does it... well, it's a little creepy. 
• Awesome: Christmas light hunting with the family while cuddled in blankets in the car with a thermos of hot cocoa.  
• Fail: Living in a neighborhood where there are not outside Christmas lights. 
• Awesome: Finding the perfect gift that says, “I really love you a whole lot” without breaking the bank. 
• Fail: Over-indulged children and adults that get all the latest electronic gifts, diamond jewelry and really, who gets a new car for Christmas? Come on! Seriously? If anything, we want that giant red bow that comes with the car. Can we get two please?
  
  
  
  
  What are some of things that are awesome of totally fail for you during the holidays? Share one with us. We can all laugh, commiserate and just plain ol’ have fun reading your light-hearted lists.  
  
  Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza, Happy Chanukah, and for the Politically correct folks out there, Happy Holidays from the Writer Freaks.

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It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine...

The Mayan calendar ends in two days, and there are massive amounts of concern about it floating around on the interwebs. I should care, but I don’t. Because I’m finished. It makes me shaky to say that, but it’s true. I finished a manuscript. A full, novel-length manuscript. 

Also hard to make but super cute

Analogies make me happier than a tick on a wet hound dog, and this writing project for me was like having a baby. For those of you that have had a baby, you know that the whole nine months thing is total crap, because it’s actually forty flippin’ weeks, which is a lot of time to feel uncomfortable and host a sweet but parasitic alien in your midsection. It seems like it takes forever and it goes so slow because there are billions of little cells that have to grow, and it’s pretty complicated. Writing a novel is like that. You have to cook it up right or it’ll come out all weird and misshapen. It takes a long time. And when you write that last sentence, you feel relieved and conflicted and you want to cry and laugh and take a really long nap, all at the same time. Because you know that now that it’s complete, the real work starts.

Writing is what I do because I love telling stories and because I can’t not write. I’m compelled. But writing is also a business these days, and that part smells like a skunk that crawled under the house and died and then summer comes and heats everything up and trust me, that is some bad stink. If I wanted to go into business I would have gotten my MBA and I’d probably be floating in loads of money right now. I’d be like Scrooge McDuck and have all of it converted to gold coins and put in a giant vault that I could swim around in. But I would give it away too. I have all kinds of things that I could do with money, but mostly I’d end up buying stuff for people and giving it away.  And probably starting a non-profit ninja school, so I can have my zombie killing ninja army all ready for the apocalypse. Oh and I’d make a bunker and fill it with stuff, like beans and rice and Twinkies, for the end of the world. Because that’s coming up too in a couple days and also I’ve been watching way too many doomsday preppers shows. I like the idea of prepping for a zombie apocalypse more than an entire world destruction type scenario. But anyway. Not the point. The point is, business is not my strong suit. I have to get someone to draw a cover and print out the pages and sew them together and hand them out in exchange for money and stuff, but the idea is so boring and annoying and makes me pull my hair out that I want to cry. I spent a year making this darn manuscript baby and now I have to put shiny Hello Kitty stickers all over my baby and sell it. Ew. And that’s the feeling you get after you’ve completed a novel. 

I allowed myself some time this week to decompress and work on other stuff. After you have a baby people are generally super nice to you and considerate, and they bring you ice packs and Top Ramen and don’t make you do housework or anything.  So I took sort of a mini-break, (ish—as much of a break as someone with three kids can take) and didn’t write for a few days. I let my brain rest. I’ve actually finished manuscripts before, but bad ones. This one is actually good. I wrote one when I was nineteen, but I realized that how bad it was about a year after I wrote it. Like over-the-top, melodramatic horrible. And when I was twenty-five I wrote another, and that one was closer but still derivative and trite and unrealistic. And it wasn’t fantasy fiction or sci-fi, so unrealistic is bad if your genre is chick lit. In the meantime I wrote a lot of short stories, and those are easy and they flow really well. And I enjoy writing them and they only take a few weeks from start to finish, so if they’re terrible I don’t feel bad for wasting a year of my life writing something terrible.

But anyway. This one is done and it’s not awful. I’m actually willing to let people read it. And I’m blogging again, which is good. Stephanie has been carrying the Freak load here for a while, with me having a death in the family and then a novel-finishing breakdown, but I’m ready to start talking about the next phase in this process. The end of the world can wait—now I have a book to get published. Which is almost scarier. 

Julie Simmons-Wixom is not a medical professional in any capacity and her pregnancy advice should be largely ignored. But if you want to discuss novel pregnancy and birth, email her at juliekwixom@gmail.com. 

Have you finished any huge projects lately? Comment below, and tell us all about them.