Did you miss me while I was gone? Wonder what I was up to? Wrote a blog about it, wanna hear it, here it go...
Wednesday June 15
By this time, I'm completely disillusioned about the "Back to Work" program I'm working for the state. I see too much disorganization, a flawed system and folks that wouldn't know professionalism if it bit them in the ass. On the flip side, I've help 36 people go back to work in five weeks' time.
Wednesday morning, it's 102 degrees by 8:15 in the morning when I arrive to work a job fair for the great state of Texas. There's a weird vibe as though something is going on behind the scenes that we don't know about. I (as usual) have quadruple million other things I'm trying to do so I ignore it. We work the job fair. I get cussed out twice, hugged once, and hit on by one cap daddy, one gangsta and one cutie pie. The fair wraps and we head back to the office where they herd us into a conference room. Guess what? The funding for this project has been cut. That's all she wrote. Do you mind just clearing out today?
Folks were tart and tangy about it. The project was only supposed to go another week and a half and I had other things to do anyway so I was cool. Although... why have me out there tap-dancing in all black in this heat for the peoples knowing that I was never going to get the chance to help them? Three words for how Texas Workforce Solution is handling their bidness: Ragg. Ed. Dy. Next!
Thursday June 16
The wonder of sleeping until 9:00 am. But lest I get too giddy with it the glaring red circle on my calendar reminds me. Book 3 (tentatively titled Pretty Boy Problems) is due with edits to the publisher on Monday. I place hair in ponytail, hindparts in yoga parts, feet in fuzzy socks and assume the position. I'm surgically attached to the keyboard. Phone rings - am I interested in starting a virtual consulting gig? Of course I am but um... next week. Words written? 3,500
Friday June 17
BougieYoungerBro is taking his eldest daughter and two of her friends to the beach for her 16th birthday. My job is to watch the two little ones. Oh wait, did he forget to tell me he needed me to watch the 17 y/o boy and 10 y/o daughter too? Yes. Yes he did. Four kids not two, one of them a teenager. That requires a whole different level of planning and food prep. God bless the pizza delivery dude. Netflix saves the evening as I plunk everyone down in front of a Glee marathon. Aunt Chele is tart. Words written? 400
Saturday June 18
Aunt Chele makes eggs, pancakes, bacon and sausage. The visiting hoard fall upon it like locusts in a dry corn field. Then she bribes the eldest boy into taking all these doggone kids to the movies and then the park and then the pool. The two youngest want to come in and hug Aunt Chele every 10 minutes. There is fighting and yelling and someone drops a grape popsicle on the new area rug. Grandma loses her temper and barricades herself in her room with her Bible for the rest of the night. Let the record reflect that 3N lasted less than 30 minutes with these chillen, pleaded housework and bailed leaving skidmarks on the sidewalk.
One "accident" by the 7 y/o who didn't want to stop playing Wii long enough to go to the restroom. One tantrum by the 4 y/o who wanted his mommy at bedtime. One laptop snatched out of the 10 y/o's hands when she won't show Aunt Chele what she's looking at on the internet. The eldest makes curfew but managed to break his new cell phone. Aunt Chele stays up until 4:00 am writing. Caffeinated beverages consumed? 6 Words written? 6,100
Sunday June 19
The BougieHousehold awakens at 6:30, BougieMom is taking all these ragamuffin children to church in search of Jesus. Aunt Chele fixes heads of hair, dresses children, flings pop-tarts at everyone and shoos everyone out the door. After sneaking in a few hours of sleep, the drama starts popping. Apparently the children behaved like "hooligans" in church and BougieMom is through. Aunt Chele takes the eldest to the Sprint store and swings by Sam's to get something quick and easy to feed everybody. Chicken salad wraps with grapes and juice are devoured in an eye blink.
There is an epic battle brewing over who gets to play the Xbox and who gets to play the Wii. In a fit of pique, Aunt Chele sends everyone out to the pool. Firing up the grill, I quickly prep chicken fajitas and veggies. Back inside I whip up guacamole and salsa and open a bag of Tostitos. Now I'm hot, smoky, testy and exhausted. Dinner is served. BougieYoungerBro arrives just in time for dinner (side-eye at his timing). He sits down with the three teenage girls and they eat as well. Aunt Chele retreats to her office and sends BYB a text: Get yo kids and get out. Happy Father's Day.
I love BougieNieces and Nephews but I needed peace, quiet and copious amounts of wine. What I got was a never-ending stream of "He hit me" "She laughed at me" "Will you come play" What's to eat" "Aunt Chele, may I..." OMG.
I type until 3:00 am. Sometime round midnight someone on Twitter says that the problem with today's writers are that they aren't formally trained to be writers. She went on to say that she wouldn't let someone without a journalism or English degree type up an email for her. Furthermore, everyone knows that bloggers aren't "real writers" anyway. *blinkety-blinkety-blink* My degree is in pre-law. This is my third book and my blog rocks rather hard. Back to work.
Words written? 2,700
Monday June 20 - D-Day
All I want to do is add in two chapters to explain why my heroine forgave the hero for a tragic error. Without those two chapters, people will read this story and wonder if I have lost my damn mind. I can hear it now. "Chele, you wouldn't forgive a man who did that, why should she?" Okay fine. Two chapters one from her point of view and one from his. Easy, right?
My agent called. My publisher called. My siblings called. 3N called twice, "You done yet?" *CLICK* The guy from work that I told ya'll about weeks ago? He called six times in twelve hour period. I mention in passing to 3N that I don't know what this guy wants. 3N says that he does and is more than happy to go tell him in person why he's never going to get it. Le Sigh. All of the phones went to mute. I turned off the TV, turned off Twitter and got down to it. Finally. Done. Print it. Re-read it. Tweak it.
Is that rain? With swirling winds? Do I hear the recycling bags blowing down the street? Yes, I do. At two in the freakin' morning. I run outside and chase blue bags down the street until I'm almost struck by lightning. Is it really that crucial? I create a creative pyramid of recycling and trash and run back inside dripping wet. I call myself fourteen kinds of idiots. 4:37 am, 78,000+ words off to the editor. Now I'm wide awake. I go to the TNT website and watch the season opener of HawthoRNe. I boo-hoo like a baby and go to bed as the sun is coming up.
So the next time you think you want to live sexy like me? Think again, it ain't all purple shoes and pear vodka. What did you guys for the last week of your lives?