Randomness and Lunacy

I Do this, I Disappear for Years on End

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Thu, 05 Sep 2024 17:12:00 +0000

And then reappear as if nothing ever changed. I call it my mole era. I've had a few of them but not many have lasted as long as this. I didn't even glance to see when my last post happened before this one. Though, I can say for absolute certainty it was more than 6 years ago. 7? More? I don't know but, long.

Longer perhaps than the last time I published a book. The 3rd book in my California Dreamin' Series hit the streets to a distinct lack of fanfare and then I burned out. Like, severely hated writing and all it entailed to "hit the algorithm" back then.

I took a seven year break from books. And, in turn, this blog.

Then, a renewed spirit of sorts crept in after we moved from AZ to NY in 2023. I had a TON of time to kill knowing nobody in the state other than the Mister. I needed some kind of outlet so, as per usual, I went inward to find it. On the other side of that popped out this:

You Classy Beach, Or, are mermaids always this snarky?*

My first book in almost 7 years! A new chapter in my life. Pun fully intended.

This collection of essays reads like a memoir and documents my life's ridiculousness on various beaches around the world. I'm the most proud of this book than any I've ever written. It's raw, honest, witty as fuck and will resonate with my fellow snarky Gen-Xers. Especially those who have been literal OG readers here, there are 2 stories you may recognize in the book. They got their start right here on this old ass blog.

To that end, however...

I'm not reviving this blog. In fact, I've been slowly farming stories to edit/re-write then use in upcoming collections. I'm taking down those posts here. Packing up and moving out. Sorry, blogger, you've been great but I can't know my subscribers on your platform. So, I need my own.

And I now have a better, more reliable, more interactive way to write this ridiculous drivel for you to read at your leisure. It's called: Consistently Inconsistent, the Newsletter (the link takes you to my sign up form) where I send you the drivel in email instead of posting on a site where I can't really have conversations.

From my newsletters you can reply and we can chat in email instead of in comment sections that I never get notifications about. Email is easier to manage and I'm already there every morning with coffee. Let's have a coffee together. I know it's been a freaking eternity but I'm back and want to catch up if you're game.

I'm peddling the words somewhere else. But it'll remind you a lot of this. So, this is likely to be the last post on this blog. For real, for real. Want to still chat or keep in touch? Click that link above, sign up, double-opt-in, and wait for who knows how long until the next time I share anything there.

I assure you, however, if all goes according to the nefarious plan, that will be long before 7 years.

Thanks for the long-term and unwavering support bloggy buddies. Hope to see you Beaches over there!

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*The You Classy Beach link takes you to Lulu, an online book distributor, where you will be asked to create an account if you don't already have one then you can purchase the paperback with a credit card. Thanks!

It’s All Happening

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 29 Jun 2018 12:32:00 +0000

Sort of.

Here’s the thing, it can be so easy to get discouraged in this writing life. There are millions of books available, so many amazing writers out there, and being an indie is a definite double edged blade.

And I’ll be the first to admit, both edges are usually serrated.

Discouragement can come at any given moment though. Truly, how many of you can say you show up for your job every day, all day, and leave at the end of the day knowing you did great work you didn’t get paid for (yet, if ever)?

I can imagine most, if not all of you, would laugh until you cry then walk away to make a paycheck. Most days, weeks, months, I don’t make a lot. And generally speaking that’s because I started this thing all wrong.

In recent months, weeks, days, I’ve learned from some of the most amazing, successful, indie authors out there about how to better position myself, advertise, release books. How to market. How to really connect with people who want fiction.

But still, this is a slow-slow-fast kind of industry. Overnight success that only took 30 years to accomplish!

So, sometimes it’s difficult to quantify that moment. That one moment where you start seeing things happen. Actual progress and growth in your career. Steady growth. Steady increase in sales.

For someone like me, however, skating by with only a few downloads a month, to see that number spike overnight into double digits will bring on a tinge of giddiness.

Okay, a surge of giddiness!

Giddiness warranting the titling of a blog post ‘It’s All Happening’ I guess.

That day, the double digit spike day, was today. At least, I saw it today. As a gal who hasn’t released a book since last November when Makeup Your Mind dropped, I got out of the habit of checking my KDP reports daily.

I know, I know, don’t set me on fire with scathing comments, please.

Again, let me reiterate how discouraging it can be to do ALL THE THINGS on a daily basis, especially when the monetary results for all that effort are niet 99.9% of the time.

It’s hard to work for free. To create entire worlds and format and promote and about 2,700 other things I do with a book to make it a professionally produced indie publication. Every time.

But I totally chose this life and I wouldn’t change it. I LOVE writing as a career. It just finally hit me recently that I walk around saying ‘I write books for a living’ when in reality the ‘for-a-living’ part is a myth.

That shit is all about to change.

I’m finally learning how to use the system over at the ‘Zon to my advantage. Finally reading the right information, joining the right groups full of writers who aren’t just passionate about putting words down but about the dolla dolla bills, yo.

Because, again, most people don’t work for free. Most people don’t pursue a career with zero salary attached. Those people are called volunteers. And I have no problem with people who want to do that with their lives, I commend them in fact. But that’s not my intention.

This week’s post was fortunate on timing, there happened to be 5 Fridays in the month and I had this bonus week to fill. I’m so super glad I got to fill it with a happy update on the ‘for-a-living’ front.

As I spend my days from now until the end of the year stockpiling fully fleshed out novels/novellas/short stories, all with the intent of publishing on an algorithm-capturing schedule, I’ll be excited to look back on posts like this.

Something to motivate me to KEEP GOING no matter what because, when I do, good things happen.

Because I’ll still be working the rest of 2018 “for free” but at least I know 2019 will shake out to be a banner income year.

Bring. It. On!

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Take a Deep Breath

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 22 Jun 2018 12:41:00 +0000

Before every performance, I placed bets with Chris, my boss, as to how many patrons would end up crying by the end of my rendition of “Leaving on a Jet Plane”. The last strum of my guitar produced exactly zero tragedy and total comedy as a group of people, not even listening to me, burst into laughter. I owed Chris ten bucks.

Most of the regulars were here today including Mister Jones with his service dog. His hand-carved cane draped casually on the back of the faded, peach toned, hand painted chair. His left leg shaking as he rapidly tapped the heel of his foot on the wide-plank pine floor. I knew he wasn't listening to my set either. Jones usually turned off his hearing aid the minute he walked through the door at Abacus Coffee House.

I got things together for my next song and glanced at the clock. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate Chris letting me sing during my break but I belted out my heart to a total of about five people on any given day. I mean, who goes for coffee at 4:00 in the afternoon? Medical pros and contractors made up our mini 3:00 rush but this was our slowest hour. It's why he gave me the time but obviously that’s a double edged sword.

The door opened and a stocky guy in a heather gray suit entered as I started up my final song. A cover of Jewel's “You were Meant for Me”. Right in my wheelhouse. Also, perfect for the coffee house crowd ignoring my every move. It was one of those songs that could really take your breath away from melancholy if you listened to the lyrics. Or, it could just as easily fade into the background if you were in the middle of formatting a spreadsheet in the corner of a brightly lit coffee shop. Not when Jewel sings it, of course, but for me that was the usual way of things.

I wrapped up with a ‘thank you so much’ and two people actually clapped, a cursory quadruple clap. Hey, I'd take it. I went to stow my guitar and grab my apron from the office. As my foot crossed the threshold into the tiny room, hardly big enough for the desk, chair, and my guitar case, let alone another person, a hand tapped my shoulder. I spun around to face Mister Fancy Gray Suit. A to-go cup in a cardboard hand protector in one hand, laptop case slung across his chest like he was a bike messenger.

He didn't say a word just winked and handed me a business card. Before I had a chance to look at the card he spun around and took a quick clip to the exit. I was confused but looked down at the card in my hand. White cardstock, a photo of him on one side and a shooting star wrapped around the words Talent Agency. As the words sunk in, I noticed an address, name, phone number, and email address. Wait, what?

My knees almost gave out so I sunk into the chair, still holding my guitar. I stared at the card for what felt like twenty minutes. Lincoln Forrest. Talent agent. And he handed this 2x3 opportunity to me. He saw something in my performance. The one song the guy heard was enough to elicit a card. He wanted me to call him. I could have an agent. I could finally be on track to do what I'd dreamed about doing for the last 15 years.

Just then, Chris popped his head back and asked if I was planning to finish my shift. He disappeared before I could answer. Before my mouth found the ability to again form simple words. My eyes filled with emotion as I realized, this shift could finally be one of my last.

Written above, Take a Deep Breath, inspired by this roll of Rory’s Story Cubes.

If you enjoyed this story, in my new flash fiction series, please share the link, leave me a comment, and don’t forget to come back next month for the next story! You can sign up to get my blogs in email so you don’t miss anything.

I post every Friday, flash fiction stories on the 4^th Friday of every month.

Thanks for reading!

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

It’s Entirely Too Hot For This Now

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 15 Jun 2018 12:56:00 +0000

You saw the title and know what that means…another yard update!

Before we get to that though, if you’re new here feel free to catch up on our improvement debacle, er, journey (in order of completion):

Our 127 Hours were a Little Different

Go Back to the Bah!

Backyard Landscaping like a Boss

Adventures in Home Improvement Day 9,452,761

With that out of the way…

The yard.

The pictures.

The fucking Arizona sun and our extreme lack of ability to finish this project before summer.

Now, I know a lot of you reside in places where summer doesn’t come until August, but in the central valley of Phoenix we’ve been flirting with summer since March this year. Seriously, it was 88 degrees on March 22. Better known as spring in these parts.

We lucked out for many of those linked posts above (because the weather seemed to not want to kill us for a minute) and we managed to get some not too hot weather to rake, till, power wash, move thousands of pounds of stone, and everything else we’ve done so far.

That was, until the end of May.

As we neared the end of the redesign. And the end of my effort for this project. However, the gravel and pavers just arrived last weekend.

As usual, pictures will tell the story better than I can. Especially considering I’m still trying to figure out a way to establish a permanent residence in my freezer.

So, yeah.
We started both days getting up at 6, and wrapped work by noon.

Matt started and completed the edging and weedblock
over the past few weekends.

It might look small but the patio will come in around 10' x 10'.

A short fifteen minutes up the road to our gravel yard.

The beachiest gravel we can get our hands on in the desert.
We placed the order date.
They charge day of delivery.
Just that easy.

As promised, they backed in at 7:30AM.
And, that doesn't look like too much, we got this!

Oh, wait a second. Wasn't I the one saying last night:
"No way the pile will take up the WHOLE driveway."
Technically I was right but that only counts if we drive a two wheeled vehicle.

First scoop! (of about 350 wheelbarrows full)

I told Matt nobody will believe this is him
since he isn't wearing his "work outfit" teeheehee

At least I know how to dress for the part.
The long sleeves lasted about 10 minutes, quickly replaced by
short sleeves and 50spf.

Piling begins!
And then we got to work,
neglecting photos in favor of finishing without dying.

Many, many, MANY raked out piles later and we stopped at noon.
Side note, basically everything is covered but...

How does it look like we haven't touched this pile yet?
Looks like we might need to be creative during Sunday placement.

Starting with this.
Gravel was compressed over here by about two inches.
Not anymore!

Also, here.
We haven't known what this concrete thing is since the day we moved in.
So, let's cover it up!

When the Lowes delivery guy showed up with a pallet full
of bags of base sand, patio pavers, and polymeric sand we
asked if he could get it in the garage. His response?
"Sure, Saturday is for off-roading right?"
My new BFF.

See ya red gravel mixed with ten years of decomposing leaf goo!

Like that weird concrete circle never even happened.

We filled in all of this too,
all the way up the mound in the far distance and to the front door.
Buh-bye cracked and destroyed flagstone!
I forgot to get after pics and it's dark as I type this so you'll
just have to trust it looks killer now.

The last remnants of gravel were swept up and dumped in the front yard.
Work completed by 12:00 Sunday afternoon.
We promptly came inside and watched a Naked and Afraid
marathon for the next 9 hours while we cooled off and recharged.
AKA: napped.
Yup. Even me.

Can someone please pass the sunscreen? And a refreshing, fruity drink? It’s time to finally get in the pool and enjoy all this hard work.

Just as soon as we lay the pavers next weekend…

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Top 11 Memoir Titles

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 08 Jun 2018 12:26:00 +0000

Lately I’ve been restructuring my entire life as a writer, publisher. And I’ve tried to restructure my brain so I accept that some things are meant to be let go of when they don’t produce desired results.

Regardless of how tight I tried to hold onto them.

First and foremost on that list, books that aren’t flowing.

If you’ve been reading me over here for a while you know I’m a big believer in the whiteboard wall in my office. I schedule within an inch of my time and until a couple months ago that schedule kept me fully on track. Fully in line and enjoying the whole publishing life.

Then I started writing a new book, then another new book, then a re-write, all due to drop this year.

Luckily, I’m not with a traditional publisher because they would have dropped me from a punt off the rooftop of some forty-story Manhattan skyscraper weeks ago.

Because, a few weeks ago I took my eraser and wiped out every single thing on my whiteboard. You can read about why I was told to stop writing (and subsequently took that advice) here.

And since the day I took the eraser to the overwhelming list of shit I had to do to keep moving my stalled career in no real direction, I’ve never felt so clear about what I should be writing.

The funny thing about that? I’m not writing anything much different now. But more on that in an upcoming post because I’m not trying to be click-baity around here. Suffice to say, I’m working on three books at once and have zero plans to release them until they’re done.

My whiteboard remains mostly empty and it’s kinda liberating to be honest.

All this reworking of my work-life to get that ever elusive balance back on track had me considering just what I was after all along.

I figured, what better way to work out all of this shit than to write about it, right?

Ah, the life of a writer. When you have nothing to write about, write about it!

We all operate from this place of hypocrisy or irony or whatever the hell you feel like labeling it. Because none of us know how to do this any other way.

I decided to wipe out everything I’d worked on since November of last year. Line up my darlings against the wall and put the proverbial bullet in the backs of their heads. Because none of them deserved to live.

None of them were worthy of the time and energy I tried to devote to make them into something worth my time and energy.

I told you, hypocrisy.

But you know I have a snarky side and all that shooting made me thirsty to share my true inner thoughts on my flailing career. Possible memoir titles to define this ridiculous point in my life, if you will. Personally, I think they’re all pretty great.

1. Striving for Mediocrity

2. Writing a Book is a Giant Waste of Time

3. Indie Author Making a Living: Yeah, good luck with that

4. But Doing Laundry is Working (and other lies writers spew)

5. Let’s find out if Money Changes Me

6. How to Make a Living with Hard Work and 30 Years of Dedication: A Satire

7. Stretching out Your Arms and Swiping off the Desk (this is not a metaphor)

8. Giving Up: A guide to a better life by abandoning talent for cash

9. English Degrees are Useless: And other motivations from my high school guidance counselor

10. Only Rich People Say Money Isn’t Everything

11. You Got This, Maybe

Great titles, huh? Sadly, I have zero desire to write any of these stories for real. None of them could actually support a full-length memoir. So, you know what that means, right?

Hello possible new blog topics!

Kidding.

Maybe.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Book Reviews and what to do with a Famous Author who Sucks

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 01 Jun 2018 12:53:00 +0000

I have a serious question to ask:

What should I do when I read a book, written by a somewhat popular/famous indie author, but I hate it because the pacing is sporadic, the word count is obviously padded, and the characters are so flat they all read like the same people?

I’m not being snarky here, by the way. This is an honest question I’ve been grappling with lately.

Here’s why.

A few weeks ago I came across a permafree book by a somewhat well-known indie author (based on number of overall reviews, social following, shares of the book’s free status – all stuff I looked up for research but not something I normally consider when downloading a new book, more on that later). I wanted to read it because I enjoy the genre.

Side note – I didn’t read a single review, just saw there were many and mostly favorable star ratings.

So, I read the book. And I hated it.

I actually had to force myself to finish it. I really wanted to tell this author she needed a serious class in dialogue (free tip: not just words on a page, dialogue should always move the story/characters forward) and the book should have been about 150 less pages.

But, and here’s the real crux of my issue, who the hell am I to tell her how to write when she’s a best-selling indie author?

How can I say those things to someone so obviously doing all the career parts “right”? Someone who has a healthy following of rabid super fans?

Could her other books be better? I mean, she’s got a huge following. Then why make the first in her series free if it isn’t giving her very best work to the reading community?

Too many questions. My head is spinning.

Experts who make 100% of their income from book sales tend to suggest:

- Series is the way to sell

- First book permafree

- Another (unique title) free with sign up to newsletter

- All others $4.99 and under

- Have about 20-50 titles and drop them at the right time for max engagement

Many indie authors aren’t living on their book sales. Probably most. But I’d wager a guess that most of them would love to be.

So how do they do that?

Get more Amazon visibility of course.

So how do they do that?

Nobody seems to know how that works on Amazon other than garnering attraction to a page.

- Following their author page

- Rating their books

- Reviewing their books

- Liking reviews/marking as helpful

- Pre-ordering a book

- Reading all the pages of their Kindle Unlimited book

- Encouraging others to check them out

And probably a bunch of other stuff I haven’t even considered. But here’s the rub where that list is concerned…

Where does an author find that segment of the people? The super fans, people who will do all of that stuff and more? Generally, that’s on social media these days. Or from advertising. But where do we even go to run an ad? Why, social media or Amazon, of course.

And the circle goes round.

Because, with the onslaught of indie publications hitting the market every day, it seems to me that the authors who excel at marketing and promotion are the ones who seem to sell more books. Attract more fans.

These marketing skills are unfortunately independent of good writing the vast majority of the time.

So, knowing all of that, I’ll repeat my question (ish).

As an indie author who wants a larger segment of readers to find and support my work, I desire reviews and all the other stuff in that list up there. Obviously. And I feel that whole reap what you sow mentality.

If I want reviews I need to give reviews. Right?

But if I read a terrible book (flat, lifeless characters, tell and no show, repetition from narrative to dialogue just to pad word count etc.) written by a bigger named indie, the last thing I want to do is review it.

Again, who am I to tell them how to write when their numbers are so obviously better than mine.

Because reviews (AKA: opinions) are subjective. Maybe I didn’t feel anything but someone else did (I’m trying to be open minded here because I don’t imagine everyone reading my work feels like the stories are amazing either).

And then I feel awful for even considering giving a 2 star review because I know how much work went into producing a book. Even a crappy one took time and effort.

But then I feel like it’s my duty to the rest of the reading community to share my honest opinion.

But why?

Because I want people to do the same for my work? Maybe.

Which of course begs the question, does anyone other than an Amazon algorithm care about reviews?

Is it really just about getting them and letting them sit there as another passive (ish) selling tool, or do people honestly read all 247 reviews of a book before deciding to buy?

My money’s on the former.

When I’m going to read a new author or book series, I generally base my desire to read the book on a few factors: the blurb, genre, and the cover.

Sorry for the ‘don’t judge a book’ people but that’s a romantic notion. Everyone bases a book on a cover – be it the front cover art or the back cover copy – that’s how we first learn what might be inside the pages of said book. And, with so many books to choose from, who wants to read something they don’t want to read?

I get drawn in by the awesome marketing and end up in this conundrum when the writing sucks.

So what’s an indie author /reader to do?

Support a fellow indie by rating/reviewing higher than I should, hit a fellow indie by rating/reviewing to what I feel is fair, or simply click away without doing anything?

Do you care about reviews or star ratings when picking up a new book? How do you hear about new books? Would a one or two star rating turn you off to the book, or would you give it a try because the cover and jacket copy drew you in?

So many questions…

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Three Hours in Suburbia

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 25 May 2018 12:22:00 +0000

We only left the house an hour ago but it feels like we’ve been driving for a week. Another job out of town. Why can’t these rich people live closer into the city? Closer to my house? Maybe someday I’d know what it was like to live the life of the wealthy suburbanite. Know what it’s like to afford someone like me. I’d be one step closer by the end of today’s job.

My driver caught the song drifting from the door speakers and leaned over to turn up the radio station. “Bridge Over Troubled Water”. My face fell. It felt like a slap. Too kind. Too close a metaphor for my life. I leaned in to turn it back down and, out of habit, glanced at the clock.

The digital clock on the console stopped working at least a year ago. Something else broken in my strange life. I looked down at my watch. Fifteen minutes shy of five o clock. Just a few minutes out now. I ran a mental check of my list of tools in the trunk, trying to remember if I’d packed everything I’d need to successfully pull this thing off. The flashlight. Magnifying glass. Air pump. Everything accounted for.

With a sigh I reached into the backseat and retrieved my shoes. I leaned forward to put the shoes on my bare feet. I hated wearing such heavy shoes in the car but we were running late and I had no choice. I checked my appearance in the visor mirror. Honestly I had no idea why I even checked, things never changed. With a shrug I pushed the visor against the roof. But I still felt antsy. Unsettled.

Though I'd done jobs like this at least a thousand times, today I felt extra fidgety. I pulled the compass out of my pocket and ran a thumb across the warmed brass. Nana's compass. The only piece of equipment she had to get her out of there during the war. Now it was mine. And I never went anywhere without her good luck charm. The arrow pointed Northeast.

My driver leaned over to turn the radio back up and she started singing along with the chorus of some pop song I’d never even heard before. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and pulled out my cell phone to check on things for the final stage.

"Are we cleared for the escape route?"

I received a return text message of just 2 words - "all good" – in less than a minute. The time was near. The getaway was set. We entered the neighborhood. Another swath of beautiful land fallen victim to suburban sprawl. Plant a seed, sprout a house.

As we traversed the streets, I looked intently at each of the homes. Large. Varying shades of tan. Predictable for a developer’s neighborhood. No more than 3 floor plans. Some facades had an inset front door, others displayed a rounded front entrance. Built to look like a castle turret. Cookie cutter. Lame. Every house the same, every neighbor the same, every day the same. But not today. Today was sure to cause some excitement by the end of things.

We pulled over diagonally across the street from my target. A house built on the outskirts of the neighborhood. In the larger plots. It had a turret and at least an acre surrounded the property. Almost isolated. Neighbors would never even hear the screams.

As I got out of the passenger side I spotted the hot air balloon. Splayed out, ready for filling. About ready to carry me out of here. The operator and I nodded at each other as if to solidify the text messages we’d sent just five minutes before. My driver didn't get out but popped the trunk. I pulled out my duffle bag and made my way back around to the window on the driver’s side.

“Three hours. Max. See you at the meet point.”

My driver nodded and sped away leaving me alone in the street with only the hot air balloon to get me out. Everything planned to perfection. I nodded my resolve.

Walking to the front door proved a challenge in my large shoes but I made it, took a deep breath, adjusted my wig and nose then rang the bell. I plastered on my huge, makeup enhanced smile just as the door swung open.

Assaulted by a sea of wealthy nine-year-olds all I could ask was, "Okay, where's the birthday girl?!"

Written above, Three Hours in Suburbia, inspired by this roll of Rory's Story Cubes.

If you enjoyed this story, the first in my new flash fiction series, please share the link, leave me a comment, and don’t forget to come back in June for the next story! You can sign up to get my blogs in email so you don’t miss anything.

I post every Friday, flash fiction stories on the 4^th Friday of every month.

Thanks for reading!

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Missing Miles Releasing the Deadline Demons

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 18 May 2018 12:05:00 +0000

If you know me then you’ve likely heard how much I’ve struggled to get the next book in my Shaw McLeary Mystery Series down on paper. It all started after finishing Reckless Mind. Two years ago this August.

Yes, we really have to go back that far.

Because, after finishing and releasing that book, I had a great idea for a story and I thought maybe Shaw could fit into the plotline. I worked on other books and prepared to write Shaw into that story in 2017.

Now, many, many months later, I know how silly of an idea that really was.

I can’t fit an already existing character into a plotline not specifically written for her. That’s like trying to live someone else’s life. Sure, maybe it’s fun for a couple days but eventually you’re going to get to the hard stuff. Stuff that doesn’t fit the character.

But, I threw caution to the wayside and decided to finally start work on Missing Miles.

Writing that fatal plot started back in November last year. I not only took on the NaNoWriMo challenge, I actually won with that steaming pile of goo. Maybe someday in the future I’ll revisit that scene and idea and see what shakes out. Who shakes out. That day is not today.

Unfortunately, all that writing in the wrong direction for Shaw left me cold and empty.

After November, Shaw took a place on the shelf and I tried to write something else. Anything else. No dice. She just kept trying to tell me things weren’t over. Though, she wasn’t as clear on what that meant.

Stupid characters.

I hemmed and hawed over the book for a couple months. Knowing it wasn’t right. Stressing over what to write if that wasn’t a winner.

I watched a lot of TV. Read a lot of bad books. Tried to write other stories. Got back into blogging. Anything to keep my fingers moving.

Then like usual, one random day, probably when I wasn’t even thinking about it, an idea for the opening came to me. So I wrote it. And there was something about how it was all sifting into place. Like, I finally had the right place, right time.

There was something that felt like it could breed great tension, intrigue, personal-struggle character development. There was something right about the plot. The story as a whole.

Then we had a bunch of company, started our next phase of home improvement, and I promptly lost most of my mojo on the book.

Not on the story, I lost the desire to write. Thankfully, that only lasted for a minute.

When my dad left, that was our last scheduled houseguest for a while, plus we took a staycation to get a healthy level of stuff done in the backyard. Since all that? I finally put my fingers back on the keyboard over the past few weeks and to be honest I'm still struggling to write this book.

I literally can't get the story out. Not in a writer's block kind of way. Just in a "this isn't what you should be working on right now" way.

After sharing my struggles out loud (for the first time) with one of the writer's groups I belong to I finally realized all those brilliant people are right.

Stop writing.

Not forever, and not everything. Stop writing this book. Because I'm not enjoying the process. I'm not feeling the book right now. And I totally know why.

It's because this isn't what my business needs to focus on right now.

Like I said, the business nothing else.

This writing thing can be a real struggle but I finally just understood my issues. I put the stupid cart before the horse. I tried to sell my books, garner fans, find readers before I knew how to really run this business.

Well, it is high time I go back to the start and do a lot of learning. Because, in this industry, things move fast and furious at their snail's pace.

That might make no sense if you aren't a self-publishing writer and I apologize but it is the absolute truth. Technologies, companies, issues are all based on the current climate of need-it-yesterday but building a brand, a name, can take a very long time.

I have the books written, ten of them in fact, and that (as I've explained to some family and friends) makes me feel like a professional.

But I'm a professional flailer because nobody is reading other than those family and friends. And, let's face facts here, I didn't establish a publishing house and throw all my time and money at this thing to reach the people I already know. I desire, require, a broader audience.

In the spirit of that, I'll be working on a lot of changes to my general business model over the next couple months, joining organizations, and doing shit-tons of research about how to run a successful writing business.

Because, the creativity is a great thing to have but if I only wanted to write for "myself" I'd still fill countless journals with scribbles and words, not publish professionally produced books.

So, I apologize to anyone who looked forward to Missing Miles because as of now that book is on hold. I have a strong belief that Shaw might return after I know how to really share her story.

Or not.

Either way, I'll never stop writing. But for now my total focus is shifting to reading, research, connections.

Time to revisit the old marketing and business plan gathering dust in a folder somewhere. They're both in need of a ten-ton shot of reality.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Adventures in Home Improvement Day 9,452,761

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 11 May 2018 12:05:00 +0000

Or at least it feels that way. Thing is though, I’m not actually complaining about doing all of this stuff. We brought it on ourselves on purpose. Maybe we didn’t anticipate the scope within each phase, but the number of projects, yeah, we wanted this life.

There are benefits to spending so much time and money personalizing our spaces, like keeping a few middle-aged pounds at bay and being able to make our home a personal reflection of who we are as people.

As a girl who briefly spent a lot of money on a degree she never got in Interior Design, I appreciate the beauty in a personally functional space. It works for us, how we live, what we enjoy, and I love that. I spend a lot of time in this place.

Life and work happen here.

Conversely, I’m not kidding when I say the end (of projects) is almost upon us and my instant reaction:

Woo-freaking-hoo!

Only a couple things to finish inside the house, and the yard is getting closer to the final phase. For now. Because, of course we have more plans for the yard. But this phase gets us our one newly remodeled space and a little more organized everywhere else.

And we are so close to finished with this I can’t even stand it! Like I did with the last couple updates, I’m telling the story with photos.

But before we get there, speaking of past updates…

If you’re new here and haven’t read about our yard adventures you can start here: Our Journey to a Sparkling Clean Pool, or the first part of the yard re-do: Backyard Landscaping like a Boss.

Or, keep reading to see where we are now.

All brick moved by yours truly.
This is about half what we have stacked all over the yard in brick, retaining blocks, and rocks.
You'll see...

Matt moved the stack of retaining bricks in the background,
then I had a great idea: create a riverbed out of all the large
stones strewn around the yard.
Okay, to be fair we thought of that together but it was my
brilliant idea to do it now. Like we don't already have enough to do.

This isn't even the final tally of brick and blocks we moved.
Also, note the gravel because that gets raked and moved later...

We're trying to eliminate lawn in all but the 2 locations on the other side of the yard.
Matt tilled over here then I got to digging/turning/raking.

Oh look, more huge rocks! AKA: places for weeds to hide.
And ground bees. Matt moved all on the nearside due to that,
I moved all on the far side into our new dry creek bed.

We raked back gravel where we planned to put rocks, then worked around
the existing pile of rocks until it freed gravel.
Which we raked out as well. And filled with more rocks.

Full disclosure, this isn't even finalized, we just needed something
"good enough for now" because the other side is the priority.
When finalized we're adding a water feature and weed block.

I finished raking out gravel, digging out rocks (yes MORE large rocks) and
grass. Next step: add dirt to level out the spot and tamp into place with a 12 lb tamper.
Again, no weed block yet. Frankly, there may never be block here.

It rained earlier in the day (well, hail and rain but we'll get to that)
and I didn't want to track that around the house. Improvise.

After two full days of moving dirt and rocks and grass I think she
looks freaking incredible (if I do say so myself, pat-pat-pat)!

Finally finished brick removal over here as well.
Now Matt can get his half of this project done.

Once again, the before picture.

His second round with the tiller helped get even more grass out.

Tilled, loosened, raked, and ready for plants!

It looks like a tropical jungle, with Matt hiding out in the back.

After returning home on day 1 with the load of plants we realized things were sparse.
Also, unbalanced. So back we went for more.
Day 2:
We added other species that will bring color and all are on the same water schedule.
As we checked out and loaded up the plants in the back of the car I noticed the sky getting darker...

Traditionally, Phoenix's dry months are May and June.
Of course, we planned to landscape on the one weekend where temps
weren't supposed to climb out of the mid 70s so obviously
Mother nature decided to give us Phoenicians "spring" for an hour.
Deluge. (Not complaining though, the backyard flooded just enough so I
knew where we were light on dirt and gravel and it made my job much easier.
Plus it all ended as we pulled into the garage! Perfect timing!)

If you look really close, yes that's hail outside and on the floor at Harbor Freight.

First plant in the ground!

Matt watering the first planted plant!
A little out of order here, this is actually end of day on day 1.
Plants placed so we could see what gaps to fill in on day 2.

Action shot!
Yes, this is day 2. Yes, that is Matt's favorite landscaping outfit.
It makes an appearance in just about every post about our yard re-do.

All plants in the ground and irrigation lines run.
All that's left now is weed block, sand, gravel, patio pavers, and a fire pit.
The weather likely won't cooperate like this again now that summer has arrived.
Slow and steady is the name of this game now. We have until September.
But it's time to get out of here because tired is an understatement...

Thankfully, I pre-schedule posts so Matt and I are already gone to (and back from) a four-day weekend in California. We earned that mofo. And it was awesome.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Is the Book Always Better?

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 04 May 2018 12:57:00 +0000

The other day I pulled into the parking lot at Ulta. I was off to get a haircut. I waited for a few minutes until the store opened then gathered my crap to make my way to the front door. Not more than two parking spaces from my car, I stopped when I saw this on the ground:

My jaw dropped open just like Kristen Stewart’s natural expression in every scene of this movie.

Can we all just take a moment to be sad for the untimely, tragic death of this movie disc?

Okay, since I’m the only one shedding a tear (other than maybe my sister), I guess I should explain. Or, maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m going to anyway.

Hands up for all the Twilight fans out there!

If I wasn’t still typing this post right now, my hands wouldn’t only be up, they’d be flailing about like I was being chased by a bear. Or a werewolf. Preferably one who looks like Jacob when he’s not furry.

But I digress…

The series has certainly garnered a healthy level of fandom as well as vitriol over the years since Stephenie Meyer first published the four book series (starting in 2005) featuring sparkly vampires and the battle for love of a human.

But when I saw this broken disc part in the middle of a strip-mall parking lot, I started wondering, did the owner toss the books too? Just like that, out the side of their car window while driving down the road.

Or, did they even read the books before their brutal assault on the visual adaptation of the series?

I’ll admit, I’ve yet to read these books (but recently borrowed the series from my sister because it is high time). However, I love the movies.

Yeah, I said it. I love the Twilight series.

I mean, it’s a happily ever after love story centered on a tomboy lead character. Of course I love it. And, you know, vampires.

I own them all and have binged all five in a day more times than I care to admit.

Yes, I’m a writer and should be hip to all the wordy pursuits first but sometimes I’m just in the mood for a movie, made-for-TV movie, or television show (can we say Vampire Diaries anyone?) without feeling the pressure of getting to the book before it becomes a visual medium.

But I got to thinking about all the books I’ve read and loved that have been made into movies I didn’t like. As well as movies I loved based on books I’d never read because I didn’t even realize that the production was a book to begin with until I was sitting in a theater viewing the credits (Practical Magic, Confessions of a Shopaholic…).

That happens a lot to be honest.

Especially since the invention of eReading. Most of the books I read these days are indie productions. A good majority written by colleagues or writing friends from social media. None of which (to my knowledge) have been turned into movies.

There are a few books in particular that I didn’t like (that were revered) but I read before they were turned into movies. For example:

Gone Girl. Sorry to the Gillian Flynn fans out there but I figured out the entire book by the end of the first chapter so, continuing to read another few hundred pages was a challenge. (I released a book with a similar theme to Flynn’s so maybe that’s why my brain immediately went to that place?)

Eat, Pray, Love. So, what you’re really telling me is it’s actually all about a man in the end? Got it.

Sense and Sensibility. Let the flaming begin but I don’t like old books and never got into Jane Austen despite numerous tries. Love this movie and I tried to read the book but it just isn’t for me.

On the other hand, some movies I loved as well as the book(s) include:

The DaVinci Code. I finished the book in two days, less than a week after it came out. Tom Hanks is basically who I cast as Robert Langdon in my head. I love a simple conspiracy theory and twisty plots with plenty of adventure.

The Bourne Series (mostly through the first three, they did fall off after that). Tension and mystery unfold on every page. Loved the movie adaptation and casting was perfect.

Lord of the Rings. I mean, you knew it would be on this list.

Girl, Interrupted. Both excellent.

Then there’s always the last category, the book is always better. For me, that includes:

Every Stephen King book/novella ever written with the exception of Different Seasons (Shawshank, Stand by Me/The Body)

Flowers in the Attic. V.C. Andrews was robbed by every visual adaptation of this creepy, terror-filled book.

Interview with the Vampire. Anne Rice is a master, Kirsten Dunst was the only character worth seeing in the 1994 movie.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to start reading the 2,444 pages across four books of Twilight sitting neatly stacked on my living room side table. Finally time to put those books into one of those categories above.

I wonder which one it will be?

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

New Feature Rory’s Story Cube Inspired Flash Fiction

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 27 Apr 2018 12:06:00 +0000

I realized two things the other day. First, Matt gave me a really cool Christmas gift last year that I’ve been struggling to figure out how to use. Second, I need to get back into short story writing again.

Specifically, flash fiction.

Technically, flash fiction word count ranges from about 300 to 1500 words. That was where I got my start as a fiction writer.

My countless journals are a testament to that fact. And I kinda miss the style of shorter pieces. Words must all have impact. There’s no time for fluff. Dialogue is only there to further a characteristic or a plot point. Nothing meanders.

Luckily, Matt’s gift is the perfect way to inspire myself into some flash fiction.

And thus, a new blog feature was born!

The gift in question, Rory’s Story Cubes, are nine dice cubes, all with six sides a piece. The object is to put them in the bag, spin the bag string around your finger, and smack yourself in the brain with a basic layout for a fun story.

Yes, yes, I know. You’re only supposed to figuratively smack yourself with inspired brilliance.

Roll the dice out of the bag and use the images to jolt a creative burst.

I tried it today and I’m already hooked.

The images are great, multiple definitions and meanings are possible even in the same image. That’s because meanings can be inferred from the context of the cube images as a whole, whatever comes to mind first per image, or any combination of both of those concepts.

Actually, there are endless combinations! (Okay, to be fair, there is a real number and I think it has something to do with “to the power of” or “x is equal to y” but that involves a level of math I don’t feel comfortable trying so I’m just sticking to words.)

So here’s the picture of the roll I’m using to start this up next month. What do you think? What are some things you might associate with the images?

Like I said, I’m already hooked. I’ve got an outline and some story written for this roll already.

I’m going to make a go at doing this as a once a month feature here on the blog and we’ll see where it goes from there.

So if you want to check out some new flash fiction every month, come on over every forth Friday. The first story goes up on May 25, 2018.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Blame the Houseguests?

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 20 Apr 2018 12:29:00 +0000

In the past month or so, our house has been a bustling hive of out-of-town guests. From friends to family, Matt and I have been happy to welcome our peeps with open arms.

I have zero regrets about spending time with people I love but company always means one thing. Forced vacation for me.

Though, it doesn’t have anything to do with our guests. Our guests are great. If I want to come in the office and work, none of my family or friends are opposed to me doing that of course. They’re all grown-ass individuals who can certainly entertain themselves for however long I’m inspired.

It’s just, I’m just never inspired anymore.

I want to blame the visits, different energy floating around our house, lack of consistent quiet, or whatever other excuse is most convenient to apply as to why I’ve barely put more than two words on the page since I wrapped NaNoWriMo last November.

But applying false blame is a plotline better left in one of my books.

If I ever write one again.

Ugh. I swear. It’s like my characters are up there in my brain, rattling around and screaming at me to get their stories out but I just can’t seem to organize anything long enough to bring it to the end.

I don’t believe in writer’s block but I do believe in creative drought.

Thing is, I’m not entirely sure how to re-fill my pond of creativity. It’s out there in the sun, festering algae and slimy bits as hordes of little vampire mosquitoes sink their time sucking teeth into my brain.

Maybe it’s lack of sleep. I sure haven’t gotten enough recently. Maybe it’s panic about getting older body changes. Or maybe I’m just mentally worn out.

I hate…wait, no, that’s too weak a word…I abhor being unproductive. Feeling like I’m lazy. But I loathe putting in 150 million percent effort for zero return even more.

So I’m in this place right now, stuck between really wanting to just keep going because it’s not only what I do but who I am, and giving up entirely to go become a full-time virtual assistant with a real salary and someone to validate my existence.

Yeah, I’m not getting that office job. Even if I’m able to work in my own office in jammies. If I give up now just to go get a paycheck then I’d feel like a bigger sell-out than if I just keep at this grind and finally start selling some of my work to Hollywood.

The dream.

Goals, increasingly lofty or not, are my true motivation right now.

Because, I don’t know how long it’s been since I started dreaming of seeing my name in the credits of a movie somewhere, but I fully intend to make that dream a reality in the next couple years.

And I’m looking at you, Hallmark movie channels!

But, if I ever hope to get there I have to stop rambling on in blog posts and start getting serious about writing commercially viable books.

Guests, gone. House, quiet. Fingers, typing.

Let’s do this.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Backyard Landscaping Like a Boss

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 13 Apr 2018 12:25:00 +0000

Matt. Seriously guys, there is no man on this planet more awesome than my husband. He loves the outdoors, landscaping, gardening, planting. And thank goodness for that because, in my world, the thought of even something as simple as mowing a lawn sounds horrible.

Not to say I don’t like the outdoors. I do. It’s just that most of the activities I enjoy doing outside involve water and relaxing next to it.

Put me on a beach, beside a river, lakeside, in my pool. Give me a canoe, floaties, a low-seated chair that allows me to dig my toes into the sand while I read a cheezy book.

Ahhhhh……

Raking, pruning, hoeing, and tilling? Uh, no thanks. Nature is supposed to be about having fun, breaking away from the mundane life of a rat on a wheel. To me, landscaping, gardening, is not spending time in nature. It’s torture. Especially under the hot Arizona sun.

But, my husband enjoys taking on all of that stuff. He feels a huge level of pride when he completely transforms the front yard from ghetto weed garden to Zen-raked gravel perfection.

And he should take pride.

I won’t deny that it always looks great, but I also won’t deny that I’m thrilled I wasn’t the one who had to get it to that point.

But he’s a virtual rock star with a pitchfork. Or, in this case, a tiller.

So, our general plan is to break up the monotony of the backyard and install an area where we might actually hang out. Somewhere other than our covered patio. The grassy area in our backyard has been nothing more than a waste of water and excuse to use the lawn mower for far too long.

The time has finally come to put our money where our tiller is and get to work!

Just like the pool refill and bar project, this backyard story is probably best told in photos. Things are moving pretty quickly around here so by the end of this weekend we should have even more done out back. I’ll be sure to post another update when we get the rest of the materials installed.

You’ll see in the photos that there’s two patches of lawn, those will stay, and a whole bunch of dirt. Within the dirt areas around the outside, Matt wants to plant some small ground plants, some trees (palm and citrus) and then fill with a pea-stone sized, sand-toned gravel.

That same gravel will fill the outside edges of the inner rectangle of dirt, and set up inside that we’re building a concrete paver patio and fire pit.

Before getting started. Though, to be fair,
we already did a bit of retaining wall
and brick removal in the far back right corner
in order to have the block wall painted.

Not sure how this part of the process became my job.
A couple blisters and aching biceps later and
about half of the brick is gone. Most of it needed prying
out from under lawn, hence the 2 foot crowbar.

First pass with the tiller, a brand new tool for Matt.
He loves when I take pictures of him mid project!

Second pass (maybe more?) and lawn is finally
disappearing into soil. I really shouldn't
complain about my aching biceps after pulling,
like, 300 bricks. My husband is going to be jacked.

Oh yeah, did I mention that, because of the state
of the crabgrass type lawn, Matt had to rake out
after every pass and sometimes in between? Yeah.

Two days tiller rental and she's ready for digging!

Seriously, he totally crushed this job. There's a bit more to do to
even it out but we'll be out there digging, tamping, laying weed block,
raking out gravel, and building a fire pit in no time!
Please pass the marshmallows...

And, yes, before you ask, I do plan to help out with some of this (mostly the paver/pit areas because I’m a boss at that part). It’s far too hot out there already for Matt to try to do all of this on his own.

But, solar rings are already floating in the fresh, clean pool. So, you can bet your ass I’ll end my workday with a fruity drink and a swim!

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

What is Your Favorite Book?

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 06 Apr 2018 12:26:00 +0000

A question I’ve asked, and been asked, over and over again in my life.

Is it bad that my gut reaction these days is to respond:

“Either my Shaw McLeary Mystery books, starting of course with Reckless Abandon or my most recently released California Dreamin’ book, Makeup Your Mind.”

I guess that’s just the shameless self-promoting writer in me talking though, right?

Because, if I really think about what makes a book a favorite book, the criteria might actually preclude my own. (Well, okay, not all of my own but definitely a few.)

For me to call it a favorite, I want a book that stays with me. For years after I read it. I don’t necessarily want to remember every minute detail of the plot, dialogue, story, but I definitely need to remember the way a book made me feel.

And I don’t care if I feel scared, sad, happy, or any other of the numerous emotions I align to while lost in a fantasy world. I just need that feeling to show up.

Books, and I’m talking fiction here, are written to make you feel. At least, I think they should be written for that reason.

You should be uncomfortable. Afraid to sleep at night. Turned on. Wiping away tears. Laughing and nodding while saying out loud “girl, I’ve so been there!”

Because you’re supposed to become one with the characters. You’re supposed to be inside that fantasy world for all intents and purposes.

Otherwise, what’s the point of reading?

To me, I love books that play in my head like a movie, whether that book has been made into a visual representation or not.

For example, when I heard that Lord of the Rings was being made I immediately went out and bought the book so I could read it first. Especially with an epic novel like that, I want to see the characters, scenes, settings in my imagination before I see what someone else sees (like Peter Jackson).

And I was glad I did because, just like every other book-turned-movie, there was so much more to discover in the crafted words than on the screen. And that’s saying a lot because those are some of my favorite movies of all time.

But, I’ve been thinking a lot about what my favorite books are, because a writing colleague recently posted a quote from one of my childhood favorites, The Velveteen Rabbit.

This isn’t my original copy. The truth is, I was really sad when I realized I think my original copy is gone forever. Lost in one of my many moves or prior learning experiences.

That makes me sad because I read the hell out of this book until I was well into high school. Ask me if I give a shit that’s it’s allegedly written for kids.

Hint: I don’t.

So I got on Amazon and ordered up another copy. I wanted to see for myself if the feeling I carried around for this book remained the same when re-reading as an adult.

Truth? I think I might have enjoyed it even more in my middle age.

I hate to use the word “classic” because I think that puts a certain connotation in people’s minds about the literary hoity-toity-ness and/or age of a book. But, that’s exactly what The Velveteen Rabbit is, a classic piece of literature.

As a kid I struggled with acceptance. With being bullied. With a general sense of being different than everyone else. Because I was. And back then that was considered a bad thing. Kids didn’t know how to own their shit like they do in these times***.

In the 80’s it wasn’t cool to wear hand-me-downs. It wasn’t cool to be poor in my hometown, because poor meant you couldn’t afford the latest and greatest fashions, music, outer symbols of being cool. And everyone was doing it. Everyone was so much cooler than me.

So I read, and re-read, books like The Velveteen Rabbit because it was a book about owning your shit.

Who cares if you’re perfect? Perfection is grossly overrated and, like we discover in the pages of Margery Williams' book, it is only after we’ve been essentially ridden hard and put away wet that we discover the true beauty of who we are on the inside.

Because outsides are just glamour.

What really matters is our soul, spirit, how we treat other people, how we treat ourselves. And even though none of us asked to be here, we all have a reason to be walking this earth. Every single one of us has value, a purpose.

The rabbit fulfilled his purpose and ended up even more alive in the end.

Talk about a book that, still to this day, makes me feel!

What’s your favorite, or some of your favorite books, and why do you love them?

***I totally understand that bullying and the like is still a huge issue today and maybe even more so because of the web and social media. I do not mean to belittle what happens in the circles of today’s youth by trying to say things were worse when I was younger. What I mean is that, in my day, we didn’t have an outlet to find other people who felt different and connect to that sense of community (in an anonymous way) like kids have available today. The web is a place of destruction and community. As a kid incessantly picked on for most of my childhood I would have loved to have the resources available to me that kids have these days. If you are being bullied or are otherwise feeling helpless, hopeless, please reach out to trained professionals that can help you remember how fucking amazing you are. A good place to start: StopBullying.gov with links to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Go Back to the Bah!

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 30 Mar 2018 12:08:00 +0000

Or, bar, as they say pretty much everywhere outside of the Boston metro area.

But this post has nothing to do with scuzzy, seedy, or even swanky locals that ply you with watered down booze and terribly loud music all in the hopes that you show up again and again despite how you end up feeling the next morning.

Nope. This is all about our bar. Or, rather, the pantry cabinet, dry bar area of our kitchen remodel.

I got the last of this project completed a couple days ago. FINALLY! And I’m not gonna lie. I freaking love the way this turned out.

Despite my tears (I blame menopause), bruises (both to my ego and back of my hand which is still tingly), and curse words I didn’t even know I knew, in the end I’m fully in love with the overall result!

Much like the pool project (if you haven’t read about how Matt convinced me to replace our “bad water full of dissolved solids” and power wash our pool, you can catch up on that gem here), the photos of the bar project give a much better overall view so I’ll let their captions do the talking.

Design concept, stain/spray paint application, and install of every last piece were mine.

The only things Matt helped with: pre-drilling the holes for the flange anchors, and adjusting a couple of the flanges to level out the shelves. I didn’t know how to do the leveling before, but now I do, so in the future I could do 100% of this project myself.

Thankfully, there won’t be a next time because she’s done, son! (Sorry, been watching a lot of Psych re-runs lately.)

Here’s the bah, er, bar, coming together before your very eyes. For me it took just over two weekends to complete.

Materials on hand other than the wall covering.

Almost immediately after snapping this pic I went to grab the level.
Apparently I have zero sense of depth perception these days.
Hit the bottom of it with my fingers, it rolled over and
smashed down onto the back of my hand.
It hurt worse than most construction injuries I've ever had.
Still tingly nerve damage in some spots but it's mostly healed now.

Does something seem, off to you?

Anchors away!

Yeah, off by an inch. Which I actually measured twice.
I was so tired at this point it doesn't surprise me I made the mistake.
Guess she'll be done next weekend...

Like it never even happened.

Oh yeah, Matt also cut my shelves for me,
because I'm still not comfy with power tools that can cut off my fingers.
Dry fit perfection on the first try!

So I had this genius idea to spray paint the pipe caps
to match the glass hardware we have in most of the kitchen.
They don't exactly line up straight on but I still love it.
Also, the pine has a vinegar stain and dead flat varnish top coat.

No, I didn't want to mess with faux on a laminate surface.
Yes, this is heavy weight vinyl paper printed to look like wood.
The bulk of my invented curse words came during this phase.
Note to self, don't pull the backing off before lining up.
Eventually I got the hang of it and it went much smoother.

Under-side shelf clamps installed to hold everything in place.
I literally had to lie on my back on the countertop
to do this part of the install. Thankfully,
the somewhat fragile tops didn't crack under my weight!

And she's done!
Thanks to my friend JC for the daffodils, they
made for a beautiful accent to the finished project!
I'll eventually place my shot glass collection on
the top shelf but need to unpack them all first.

And now it’s back to writing because I’m just getting too damn old to be up and down a ladder all day long.

Then again, I do still need a kitchen backsplash and that doesn’t even involve a ladder so…

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Our 127 Hours were a little Different

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 16 Mar 2018 11:19:00 +0000

Our journey to a sparkling clean pool began on Thursday March 8, 2018 at approximately 6 in the evening. As I type this sentence, our journey comes to a close, on Wednesday March 14, 2018 at approximately 3 in the afternoon.

Six days at twenty-four hours a day is 144 hours.

Back out the three hours today (shy of twenty-four), six random hours (turned off for showers and laundry), eight hours last night (turned off to avoid overflow), and eight hours on Saturday night.

That one was due to fear. But I’ll get back to that in a minute (in the pictures).

We paused on suck and/or flow for a total of twenty-five hours. Meaning, this watery experience lasted us just under five full days of commitment to liquid. Or, 119 hours.

And, may I just say, I’m glad we only have to do this activity every five or so years.

It all started on the day we moved into the house, just shy of six years ago. Our house was a short sale and, sadly, the gal who owned it before we got here wasn’t in the best financial shape. So the pool was an interesting shade of greenish from day one.

We cleaned it up, shocked the water, got all the chemicals balanced, brushed religiously, replaced the burned out pump, changed the filter sand, did all the things a person needs to do to keep their pool in proper working order.

Why, many of you might be asking, would we want to deal with all of that maintenance?

Uh, have you seen the temperatures in Phoenix? We try to swim as much as possible from April to October. It’s the one thing neither of us would compromise on when buying a house. And we sacrifice on other things to make sure we can afford to have that place of respite.

That is, until a couple years ago. No matter what we seemed to add, subtract, or do to the pool, Matt just couldn’t get the chemical balance to maintain.

Ph too high. Too low. Chlorine off the charts. Something green this way grows.

It sucked, but we had other priorities for projects to complete inside anyway. So, we did the best we could to keep it not green, but swimming wasn’t as high a priority.

Matt started tossing out the phrase “our water has gone bad.” Then everyone seemed to agree, “bad water” is in fact a thing.

That, here in the desert, we have to “change” our water every few years. Chemicals don’t do the job anymore. You know, because of the dissolved solids.

Dissolved solids? That’s a freaking oxymoron.

Needless to say, I was skeptical.

I argued, if water evaporates and we then refill the pool a few inches at a time won’t the new water eventually entirely replace the “bad water” that floated off into the ether?

In short, yes. But it still doesn’t matter. Because of those dissolved solids.

See, we have extraordinarily hard water here in Arizona. That water, even filtered contains a whole bunch of crap like calcium, magnesium, salt, and other stuff that sort of dissolves. The thing about those solids though, they never evaporate.

They’re heavier than water so they stick around after the water is gone.

So, for example, after a snowstorm, rock salt might be used to melt the remaining snow and ice after shoveling or plowing. That stuff will leave a ring of salt once the water dries up. Now, picture that ring in a 23,000 gallon pool with water that has probably evaporated and been replaced for at least ten years. Likely more.

All that sediment attaches to the pebble walls and even the best vacuum in the world won’t make a difference. The filter only traps so much. And those particles are nano.

Science.

Dissolved solids.

Oxy. Moron.

Me, I’m the moron. In case that wasn’t clear.

Because, Matt had been trying to tell me why we needed to drain, clean, and refill the pool with fresh water for about three years.

But I’m cheap and didn’t want to spend the money to drain and refill.

But he’s not a magician and was pretty sick of trying to keep unbalanceable pool chemicals balanced.

Hence, the 119 hours.

Now, I feel like the pictures tell the whole story better than I really can, but I need to preface that portion with a disclaimer. No. This did not happen in one day despite the fact Matt is wearing the same clothes in every picture. Which I mentioned on the final day and chuckled.

His exact response was, “It’s a work outfit.”

And work he did.

The only part I didn’t capture on film was trying to replace the underwater light (which still doesn’t work unfortunately) because that took both of our strength. Mine, physical and with two hands. Matt’s, physical as well as the last shred of his mental concentration for this project.

Light got installed and the filling began.

Here’s my photos. Enjoy. Because we will not do this again anytime soon. If we can help it.

This all started back in January with the rebuilding of the equipment surround.

Matt hard at work leveling the new post.

Last board goes up.

Posts cut to length. I designed, we shopped, Matt installed. Go team!

It begins...6:15PM Thursday

Friday morning around 8AM. Keep in mind how little it drained overnight.

Noon...light almost exposed.

Friday around 6PM...24 hours in and the light is finally free. Also, note how little drained in 10 hours.

Right before bed and we can finally stand in the empty shallow end. Yea!
Hmm, seeing as how little drained we should turn it off overnight, right?
It'll DEFINITELY finish in a few hours tomorrow morning. Right?

Saturday around 3PM. Oh Phoenix, you and your rain. You thought you'd kill our spirit. Ha!

Saturday around 11PM...finally done.
About 16 hours after we turned the pump back on in the morning.
Gee, good thing we turned it off overnight.
All joking aside, timing worked out perfectly for cleaning Sunday.

Sunday just before lunch...first time my feet have ever touched the bottom of the deep end!

Getting going on power washing after lunch.

Final step. (Sadly, it popped the breaker after refilling so we shut it off to figure out another time.)

Sunday 6PM...Shons, start your refill!

First dissolved-solid-lite water!

8AM Mon...overnight success!

Noon Monday...Look at that water color! So Psyched!

Tuesday around 9PM...Shutting down for the night.

Wednesday about 3:05...done!

I mean, look at that WATER COLOR!
All we need now are fruity drinks and about 20 degrees warmer water.
Matt was right all along. And I'm woman enough to admit that.

Come back in a couple weeks to see what I worked on inside while Matt took our pool game to a whole new level.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Defending an Entertainer’s Right to run their Mouth

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 09 Mar 2018 11:47:00 +0000

This past weekend we tucked into the sofa with dinner and Oscar. It’s my favorite time of year, awards season!

Only, something seems different now. When I was younger, awards shows were the thing to watch. To talk about at work the next day. To obsess over for weeks leading up to the air date. Salivating to see what the ladies would wear, who would win best picture or album of the year.

And then, there seemed to be a collective flip of the switch in the eyes of the public.

Suddenly it wasn’t cool to care about movie, pop stars, athletes anymore. Winning an award or trophy just proved the person in question had sold out. Got too big for their britches or something. Commercial success and celebrity weren’t revered. Weren’t something to strive toward. They were put on blast. As were the things said star vocalized when they won said award.

Don’t forget to thank the voting body. Ugh, his stupid speech went on forever. Please, she didn’t deserve that award. Just shut up and dance for us, monkey. Throw the ball. Pretend to be in love for the camera.

Oh, but don’t do it like that.

It’s even worse if the star in question happened to use their acceptance speech as a way to further a message. Any message. Be perfect. Be what everyone wants or doesn’t want you to be.

Just don’t do it like that.

At some point the collective decided that entertainers weren’t people with thoughts, feelings, a life outside of their job. That it was okay for the rest of us to have opinions, support causes, speak out about or against anything we want, but the moment a star did the same they were an overpaid moron who should keep their mouths shut unless they were delivering lines.

Um, I get it that stars make the big bucks but there are plenty of professions that produce a host of rich, visible people and I don’t see daily flogging of them for speaking their mind, supporting a charity, whatever. Using their platform to reach a wide audience.

So I can’t help but ask, why do we marginalize awards shows and the people involved?

I’m seriously asking that question because I’m an entertainer of a sort and as of yet I haven’t been told by a random stranger on the internet to keep my fat mouth shut because of my personal opinion that they don’t agree with. Operative word, yet.

But, then, I’m basically a nobody so I’m still entitled to an opinion. Right? Isn’t that the only way to know you have really arrived these days anyway? When the world clamors to be involved in everything you do but rejects everything you say?

As far as I’m concerned, entertainment is the thing that keeps us enjoying a tiny speck of sanity in a world filled with chaos. Escape. That’s why I listen to music, watch movies, sports. Why I write fiction. So maybe someone out there who feels like me can get a minute or two of diversion from the cruel reality by reading something I wrote.

But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to say things other than what my work is about. Does it?

True, like I said, I’m not a big known entertainer so I guess I can’t really speak to what that means. But I know for 100% fact that, no matter how widely my name is known (or not), I will never please all the people. I won’t intentionally belittle anyone, marginalize anyone, but there’s no doubt someone out there could take offense to something I believe when I say/write it out loud.

And then that’s where the public will focus their flame thrower.

Belittling. Begrudging. Judging. Trying to take away my voice.

Movie stars are people, CEOs are people, athletes are people, artists are people. And this country affords all of us equal opportunity to speak our minds. Some people hate that other people have a voice so they use their own to tear the first person down. Aren't we all entitled to a moment of escape?

I believe the answer is yes. I better. Otherwise, I picked the wrong career.

I have aspirations to reach a larger audience with my work, and fully support other weirdos like me who strive for the same thing. Which is why I love watching awards shows, whether for sports, music, movies. Those people worked their fricking asses off to reach that level. And I don’t see anything wrong with them having an opinion in addition to a trophy.

Seriously, who cares? I don’t agree with everything a celebrity type says, align with all of their messages, but definitely don’t begrudge them using their voice.

Their voice.

The one thing they stayed true to that got them to where they are is the very thing we seem to crucify them for having once they get there.

Well, I don’t care what the public at large has to say about awards shows. I’ll watch and be super excited about all of the outfits, performances, displays of personal opinions because I refuse to be an entertainer who tears down other entertainers just because they reached a higher level of success than me.

And, if I get what I really dream of, one day I might even join some of them, walking in a fancy dress on a red carpet. Of course, I’m only a writer. It’s unlikely anyone will even notice me on that carpet. Nobody talks about writers.

Right?

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

The Fall Back

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 02 Mar 2018 22:23:00 +0000

Another Friday, another week that flew by way too fast. Right now, I’m standing in the office in the middle of the day, trying to come up with something creative to write about. Again.

Actually, most of my creative pursuits have felt stagnant for the entire beginning to this year. It isn’t just about this blog. Books, articles, press, are all feeling forced.

I don’t get it really. Coming off the three-book and NaNoWriMo wins of 2017, I looked forward to making 2018 my bitch, too.

But I’m soooooooooooo feeling like an angsty teen.

I don’t wanna. Pout.

Then the adult inside says I better get with the program because words don’t write themselves.

So, instead of stressing and rambling on like this for 800 words, I’m giving myself a mini-pass this week. I’ll get a blog out of a meme I saw floating around Facebook a few months ago.

This is what I do here. Sometimes you get deep, dark, light, breezy, life, career updates that I spend two days writing, sourcing images for, and editing. Crafted, creative non-fiction that reads like I wrote it in two minutes.

Sometimes you get a meme I copied and pasted into a notepad on my phone knowing I’d have at least one week this year I just wasn’t feeling a blog. (Despite my commitment to write every week, I know me way better than that.)

See? I’m so damn proactive I even plan for my desire for a total lack of adulting.

Without further ado…

1. Do you make your bed every day?

I make my bed, max, once a month. Matt usually makes it even though he’s not the one home all day.

2. What's your favorite number?

11 (No, this is not because of Stranger Things, I have loved the number since I was at least 11 years old.)

3. What is your job title?

Collector of information from the world at large, or, 10 times published author.

4. If you could, would you go back to school?

Tried college 3 times already, still haven’t finished, don’t plan to, so, no. And, if they mean any school year prior to college, then that’s a hell no. I'm not Billy Madison.

5. Can you parallel park?

When I worked in Somerville/Cambridge the city required us to move our cars every 2 hours or get a ticket. I had to parallel park for 2+ years, 5 days a week, at least 4 times a day. I can parallel park in my sleep.

6. Name a job you had which people would be shocked to know you had.

Back up dancer for JLo. It isn't true, but I bet some of you were shocked!

7. Do you think aliens exist?

Of course otherwise the universe is just a sad joke.

8. Can you drive a stick shift?

No. Let's just leave it at that.

9. Guilty pleasure?

None. Because I don't feel guilty about the things I like. Loud and proud baby!

10. Favorite childhood game?

Pushing the boundaries of my family's patience.

11. Do you talk to yourself?

All the time, I work alone at home I mean...

12. Do you like doing puzzles?

No. Word, piece, or otherwise I'm not a fan.

13. Favorite music?

Yes. All of it. Generally something with lyrics but I pretty much love all styles. Though my true love is rock.

14. Coffee or tea?

Coffee in the morning. Tea usually only when I’m sick.

15. First thing you remember you wanted to be when you grew up?

The person who drives the street sweeper. Seriously. I thought that looked like the coolest job in the world.

16. Favorite Season?

Summer. But ask me again in August.

17. Truck or Car?

I have a small, square car but I have always wanted a big, bad-ass, black truck with chrome roll-bars, lights, and tinted windows. #environmentaldisaster

18. Steak or salad?

Yes, and can I get a bowl of blue cheese on the side?

19. Cat or dog?

No. Too much responsibility. I can barely manage to write a blog post every Friday. No chance I could handle the needs of another living thing.

20. The most influential person from your childhood?

My Creative Writing teacher, senior year of high school, who first insisted I publish something I'd written.

21. Crafty or all thumbs?

Depends on the day and the craft in question.

22. Biggest fear?

Becoming rich and famous. The good news is, I hear the best way to overcome your fears is to face them...

23. Pessimist or optimist?

Depends on the day and the situation. I like to look for silver linings but sometimes shit is just fucked.

24. Favorite Holiday?

My birthday. What? You didn’t say it had to be a national/international holiday.

25. Mountains or Ocean?

Ocean. The fact I'm not there right now (read: All. The. Time.) makes me sad.

26. People person?

Studying them for future character development, yes. Interacting with them in the larger sense, usually no. There are people I love and cherish and I actually enjoy meeting new people. But “people” are the ones taking the Tide Pod and hot coil challenge too so take that for what it’s worth.

27. White, Milk or Dark chocolate?

The darker the better.

28. Do you like to cook?

Ah hahahaha! I like to eat but loathe cooking.

29. Night owl or morning person?

Ugh, my natural clock leans toward night but I've been conditioned to a corporate clock over the years. Still, never a morning person. See question 14 for how I get around this.

30. Flannel sheets in winter?

Flannel, no. Too static-y. T-shirt material, yes. All year.

Hey, if nothing else, at least the thing was fun. For me, anyway.

And I promise I’ll be back next week with something of a little more substance.

Or not. Writers are weird like that.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Trying New Things

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 23 Feb 2018 17:10:00 +0000

I wish I could tell you the new things were related to current work.

That I flew off to an exotic location to do a book signing because they just had to have me. Or how I singlehandedly wrote the next book in my series in a surge of inspired greatness overnight. Then again, it could be The Coast on the phone with the details of the option to turn my book into a movie.

But, none of those things are true. At least, not yet.

The new things I’m talking about are all pretty much makeup products.

And here’s where I lose most everyone…

Bye!

Okay, now that there are only a few of us left, let’s talk about the pretty colors and tropical smelling goodness!

Squee!

But first, some backstory for those who are new here.

Quite a while ago, my sister got back into makeup. She got me interested in trying a bit of war paint again after many years of giving the thumbs-down to most all makeup. You can read all about that story here.

Then I found the whole industry so fascinating (wait, I can buy organic skin care, products that are good for my skin, and they have shades complimentary to translucent people now?) I wrote a book, with a main character striving to become a freelance makeup artist, called Makeup Your Mind.

And I figured that would be that. My interest in makeup would basically fade away and I’d be left with a few nice things to use until two years (ahem, five years, ahem) past their expiration date like usual (don’t judge me, I’m not a beauty guru).

However, that’s not what happened at all.

In fact, now that I’ve discovered there actually are products that work with my skin tone, skin type, to enhance what I already have, I’ve become even more interested.

If I were a beauty guru, this is the time I’d say either, I’m shook, or, I’m obsessed.

Are they still saying that? Probably not. Anyway…

Just call me a consumerist and call it a day. Yup. I’m brainwashed. Hooked. Whatever.

I’m still not a full glam, false eyelashes kind of girl and the likelihood that level of makeup will happen in my life is slim to not-a-fucking-chance (glue near my eyes? Uh, no thanks).

But a light wash of colorful prettiness that makes my cheekbones and eyes stand out, as opposed to my jowls and age spots? Uh, sign me up!

And over the past few weeks I’ve found three holy grail things I don’t want to live without.

Here they are.

Yes, technically this Pacifica palate is a 4-in-1 product but that could be why I love it so much.

Here’s why I love them all. And, no, this blog isn’t sponsored or whatever those YouTubers always have to disclaim. I’m not an affiliate and I don’t make money if you decide to purchase these items.

(Unless you go buy Makeup Your Mind <-- shameless self-promo, but I digress)

Eyeshadow was one of those things I basically stopped using because I have loose old-lady skin on my lids now and by four hours after application the creasing and wearing was so bad it was easier not to deal at all. But I’ve secretly always loved doing really dramatic stuff with my eyes to make the blue-green color pop. And I missed that.

So when my sister gave me a NYX shadow primer that didn’t work for her I tried it. Um, can someone say game changer? If I apply and immediately set with a powder I can get a full ten hours out of my eyeshadow now and it Will. Not. Budge!

Thanks sister!

Then there’s the Palate from Pacifica. Swoon!

So I’m an Ipsy subscriber and they often partner with Pacifica. In my first year with Ipsy I got two things from the brand in question. First, a duo with blush and bronzer. Then a five shadow mini palate. When I say I hit pan on all but the gold shadow I’m not exaggerating.

It was like the skies opened and heaven sent down these items just for me. Designed for a more natural look, the colors were perfect for me. Buildable but pigmented. All the things I wanted without the most chemical crap. Plus, they are planet and animal friendly.

Cruelty free? Check. Made with coconut oil and other skin benefiting ingredients? Check. Vegan? Check. They even have a recycling program when you hit pan and empty out a product.

Like I said, this post isn’t sponsored or affiliated, I just think they have a nice thing going. The BB cream, not for me (but it smells like vacation, like all of their products do), but look at this palate.

I mean, beautiful, right?

The blue shadow was new to me and it has a golden-green shift on the lid. So pretty. The highlights are cream and only one of them is a little too unicorn on my 44 year old face. Otherwise, I intend to use all of these up. And hopefully it will be available to re-order when I do!

Finally, the setting spray.

So, I bought this last summer to give it a try. Tried it and hated it. I felt shiny, not dewy. Kind of greasy. And I have super dry skin. Which is why I love it now. It too has coconut oil (though the full ingredients list isn’t all natural, it isn’t super sketchy either). And bathing in coconut oil still might not be enough to hydrate me in the winter in the desert.

I literally turn into a lizard at this time of year.

So, when my Wet ‘n Wild setting spray started to itch my face off I had the makeup epiphany.

It’s okay to be a little extra.

I really don’t like being high-maintenance. A little concealer under the eyes, mascara, mineral lipstick and out the door. That’s what I used to do. But Cherry Davis got me into learning more and now here I am.

Moderate-maintenance.

A girl with two different setting sprays. One for each season in Phoenix. AKA: monsoon and plants-survive-because-all-the-moisture-is-wicked-out-of-humans.

The one with alcohol (I know, I know, but I’m cheap and it works and I only do my face like twice a week in the summer) works during the humid season and this Hard Candy one is like a dream come true for my face in the winter!

So there you have it. A girl once into makeup (in junior high/high school) went basically bare faced and has now come full circle back to trying out some enhancers.

And the real beauty of the thing is that, whether I love my look or hate it, I wash it all off at the end of the day.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Being a Snowflake for Better or Worse

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 09 Feb 2018 10:47:00 +0000

What makes you unique? The ultimate question in life. And in marketing. Because it's not enough to be good anymore, no. Now, we either have to the BEST or WORST versions of ourselves 100% of the time.

Live up to those public expectations, amiright?

Blogs offering the perfect advice for a perfect life or career. YouTube videos one-upping each other on challenges of perfect stupidity. Filtered Instagrams to let everyone know we are a perfect, unique snowflake. Just like everyone else.

Ugh.

I literally can’t stand it. The way people act to get attention. The way it seems a person has to act just so they can sell – a book, movie, album, out, their soul. I hate that it’s come to this point in history where writers have to pretend just to make some sales.

Become extroverts. Be all bold and big. Film videos of ourselves doing whatever furthers our message, like we aren’t more comfortable behind the camera.

(Side note: Yes, I know some writers are all about connecting with people, or, by some miracle of chance and luck, the opposite of introverted, it’s just, the majority of my colleagues aren’t those people.)

Thing is, I'm not supposed to sit here on this blog and tell you how much I loathe the market. Because when it comes down to it I don’t expect to write a book then magically become this rich and famous person overnight without trying at all.

I’m not that implanted in my fantasy world.

What I despise is what seems to be the only way to get stuff seen for all the effort.

Or, rather, the way the market forces us to be either shiny, happy, or straight up disaster in order for anyone to pay attention to what we do. Especially considering I’ve decided to insert myself into the machine of the modern world of entertainment production.

It’s like that quote from Practical Magic:

You can’t practice witchcraft while you look down your nose at it.

I know. Really, I do. And, it obviously doesn’t help to lament the long lost days of writing a good book, landing an agent, publisher, and having a career sprout from the effort.

But I want to wax nostalgic about that life. Because I’m seriously struggling to fit into either of the definitions of greatness in this new one.

I want to figure out how to get my stuff seen by a wider audience, but I refuse to become what I hate most just to do it. What do I mean? I mean the five minutes of fame bitch who nobody remembers in a year. But, damn, did she sure sell out everything during those five minutes!

I’m more about the slow burn.

Unfortunately, nobody else is these days which leaves me in a slight jam.

People care about people who seemingly have it all. They also care about train wrecks. But what about the rest of us?

The "good enough" people.

If you've been with me for a while over here you know I'm not exactly shiny happy. One of my blog tags is "yeah I guess I am moderately fucked up after all" for God's sake. But I'm not a train wreck of a person either, hence, the 'moderately' in 'moderately fucked up'. My life is somewhat together in many respects.

And I refuse to fake it either way. I refuse to act like I'm totally perfect or totally jacked just to gain an audience. Some days are great, some suck. That's life.

Which, admitting to, makes me the most average of humans. A girl who fits in just enough to get by. And that sucks as a person with a product to sell because, these days, you better be a hot mess or otherworldly (or both) for anyone to talk about you and your shit.

How can we sell if nobody buys because they don't know who we are? And that's when we come back to the hook.

The unique snowflake inside that makes us different. The thing that sells your work by not even selling at all. The mystical alleged thing these gurus of whatever-the-fuck seem to have in droves.

What is it, that thing that makes some people rise to the forefront, makes them an authority? Special.

It's something I've thought about, more than I should have to, over the past few years. Because my real profession is thinking about how to market my work 24/7/365. How to make it stand out as unique in a mountain of others.

And that's how we circle back to disdain for what drives the market. And my lack of a hook. AKA: my inability to stand out enough to sell in the market despite my constant banging on the door, unwavering dedication to doing this fucking job.

And, breathe.

Because, I write cute stories about average people.

I'm not a politically, controversially, socially motivated writer. The themes in my books all revolve around family, friends, lovers, and how those relationships help shape the main character's world.

I like stories about everyday people who face obstacles in love and career and, though they deal with challenges to get there, they usually get there in the end. I'm all about writing the metaphorical pretty pink bow.

HEA, bitch.

So, how is that supposed to stand out? When there's an ever rising tide of words out there about Mr. Perfect or Ms. Train Wreck. It's tough not to get discouraged, I can tell you that.

And, yet, I keep doing it. Writing. Releasing books. Publishing words for the world to read. Whether 5 or 5 million read them, those books are forever.

Maybe I'll never find the hook, land the whale so to speak.

Guess I'm just average. And that's good enough for me. Because I’ll never fake it just to get where I want to go.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Seven People at my Table

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 02 Feb 2018 11:38:00 +0000

Someone once sang about one being the loneliest number. In theory, I get it. Nobody to talk to, and all that. But I can't believe that being 'one' means lonely or my days would get really depressing really fast.

I mean, I work alone. Monday through Friday, from about eight in the morning until five-ish at night, I rely on literally nobody but myself to do my job. That job? Actually creating people for a living.

Which, I’ve been known to point out to friends, means I’m never off the clock even when I say I am. Because it doesn’t matter if I’m alone, with one other person, or in a big group, there’s always inspiration for fiction floating in the air. Conversations. People watching. Even in my dreams.

Yeah, I know, fucked up right? When I think about it, I love that I get to do this but it is kind of weird. Characters, people, poof! Right out of thin air.

So, tonight I went to the monthly writer's meeting for Scottsdale Society of Women Writers and the presenter, Sarah McLean, led us in a writing exercise.

First, we spent about 5 minutes meditating (her profession is teaching meditation).

Can I be honest? I've never really taken to meditation. I've tried it, countless times, but I like my mind all cluttered like it is. And trying to de-clutter it just makes me feel anxious.

Again, I know, fucked up. You can probably guess how much I care.

The lights dimmed and she began guided suggestions.

I did try at the meeting. But thoughts kept coming at my head in rapid-fire succession. As always. A Five Finger Death Punch to my calm.

I paid attention to my breath, the candles, tried a few other tricks and techniques Sarah recommended. Sadly, no matter what I did, I couldn't turn it off. (Side note, it usually takes me an hour, or more, to fall asleep most nights.)

After the meditation and breathing, she gave us a writing prompt. Something we could use to guide our writing portion of the exercise.

Now that I can do!

Prompts are my favorite. Prompts were responsible for a lot of my early writing. Prompts got me started writing more serious fiction. Not to mention, my last 3 non-fiction titles, including 30 Chapters in 30 Days, were all about prompts.

When she said we only had 5 minutes to write, though, my first thought was, that's it? Why not twenty minutes? Of course, it was a dinner and presentation too, so we couldn't write all night. Damn it.

The lights came back up. She gave the prompt. I scribbled like mad.

After we finished she proposed we all choose a partner to read to and listen to.

Now, I don't mind reading out loud. And I've also done a similar raw reading thing in the past. Creative Writing class. Senior year of high school. So, admittedly, it's been a while, but doing it doesn't bother me. I just didn't feel like sharing what I wrote tonight.

Which worked out fine. I was odd gal out at the table. Literally. There were 7 of us and I was lucky 7.

Everyone paired off and I sat, listening to the chatter of white noise coming from half the room and then the other half of the room as each of the women across the six, full tables read what they wrote.

It was actually kind of cool, to hear everything and nothing at the same time.

The white noise was more comforting than the silence had been earlier in the night. So, instead of listening/reading to another gal, I went inside those chaos thoughts and I focused on my characters. I thought about my WiP and the next scene. One I was struggling to figure out.

Before I left for the meeting, I wrapped work early because I was a little stuck. On the way over I tried to piece things together. Nothing seemed right. Too cliché. Too disconnected. Wrong direction for supporting characters.

But, in the midst of the inaudible chatter, it hit me. The right direction. The next scene.

I came home, smiling, and decided to write this post tonight (Wednesday), instead of when I usually write/schedule (Thursdays), so I'd have all day to work on the next scene instead.

Maybe it was the meditation. The full, super, blood moon. Maybe it was me giving in to the noise in my brain. Or perhaps it was due to me being one, alone, while in a room full of people. A common occurrence for me. Sometimes it’s just easier to live inside my head than the real world, you know?

Whatever caused my mind to work double time, something broke through.

And tomorrow I will be alone, though anything but lonely. I have my characters to keep me company after all. And now I know just where they're headed.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Quick Update and Free eBook Download

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 26 Jan 2018 11:58:00 +0000

I’m all kinds of brain dead right now, working on the first draft of book 4 in the California Dreamin’ Series. Not sure of a title or even a final structure yet, but I’ve been handwriting scenes, possible characters, and expanding on my plot ideas since the beginning of the year.

It’s been a lot of fun bringing it together and I’m definitely looking forward to finishing the first draft over the next couple weeks.

Usually I’m a pantser. I just start typing with a loose idea of my main character, setting, and basic plot then let the words fall into what eventually becomes the story. But I’m doing things a little differently this time. Something I also did for Makeup Your Mind. I’m handwriting the entire first draft.

Not gonna lie, it’s awesome. I see better when I write by hand. I mean, I can visualize what I’m writing as if it’s a movie in my mind and when those details are so clear in my imagination, I find it’s easier to get them on the page. Even if that happens in a later draft, once I’ve “seen” the story I can’t un-see it.

Does that even make any sense?

Typing forces the words out a lot faster, with less pain than using a pen and, don’t get me wrong, that’s great. My arm sure doesn’t fatigue as fast. The thing is though, I love using the keyboard when I’m pulling the final story into a cohesive document, but not to start.

There’s something about a blank notebook page that gets me infinitely more jazzed than a blank computer screen. Call me a romantic writer but I like the nostalgia of a pen and paper.

A blob of black ink permanently embedded into the lump of a callus on the first knuckle of the middle finger on my right hand.

I legit might get that as my next tattoo.

But anyway, the book. (And the free stuff!)

As #4 chugs along in development, I decided it might be a nice time to re-visit Carol + Chad 4-eva!. After all, like all the leading ladies in this series, Lara Greene was first introduced in the pages of Carol’s story.

And since I’m having so much fun developing Ms. Greene, I figured why not get C+C out there for free for a couple days. That way, you can prepare in advance for Lara’s grand entrance in April!

Click here to download the Novelette that started it all, Carol + Chad 4-eva!

Available for free until January 28, 2018 so download it now and read anytime over the next few months. Then don’t forget to review it on Amazon!

And, on that brief note, I must fling myself back on my belly on the sofa, pen in hand, and get writing. Because I’m feeling inspired by all this sunshine today and if there’s anything I’ve learned over these past three decades of writing it’s to let the ink flow when I’m inspired.

Don’t forget to download and review, thanks!

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Washing your Mouth out with Soap

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 19 Jan 2018 12:33:00 +0000

For those of us born in a certain era, there were warnings tossed out by our parents or elders that elevated our fear level to that of panic. At least, some of us lived in fear. Some of us handily took matters into our own hands.

The first and most overplayed cautionary tale was, of course, wait until your father gets home.

Now, I didn’t personally grow up with that particular threat because my parents divorced when I was young enough that, even if my mom used it, I don’t remember. The days when my parents were still together are somewhat blurry but I can’t recall those words flying out of my mom’s mouth.

My dad didn’t “get home” after work to (apparently) lay down the law that my mom couldn’t (or didn’t want to) enforce.

I always wondered about that warning. Who were those dads? What kind of people were they when us kids weren’t playing in their back yard? When they were left alone with their family after getting a recap of the day? And what, exactly, would dad do when he got home? Yikes.

I actually heard it used with friends or other kids who still had two parents under the same roof. As far as I was concerned, having dad come home after going off all day to do some job nobody tried to understand, didn’t seem scary at all.

Why was that a believable threat? Like, the guy who is never there is suddenly going to take on the role of enforcer and that frightened kids? Why? Wasn’t dad the “fun” one? The parent who got to relax and take you out back to play catch? He wasn’t the heavy. That was mom.

The one who actually made the rules all day.

At least, that’s what I assumed because television taught me what it was like to have still-married parents. And it always went down the same way. Mom, home raising the kids, dad off to work, mom doing everything else but dad being the one who got a foot rub and a beer at the end of the day. He falls asleep in the recliner in front of the TV while mom finishes her chores.

So, when the warning was doled out, I just couldn’t wrap my head around why it frightened anyone. You mean to tell me that the guy who puts his ass in an overstuffed chair for five hours every night and makes a cursory attempt to teach his kids how to play ball on the weekends is suddenly going to become a growling bear of a man who lives to put you in your place? Because mom told him what you did hours earlier?

As if.

Mom would have kicked your butt long before dad even got home, right?

On the other hand, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap, holds a certain special place in my heart.

Did my mom/family ever wash my mouth out with soap? God no! But was I threatened with the possibility? Yes. Just once. But not by my family.

I distinctly remember the entire experience. Truly, it’s one of those days that I can recall just about everything about it – temperature, where I was, who I was with, who threatened me. Because the follow-up moments were insane.

Well, I was insane.

The youngest daughter of my babysitter at the time, a girl in my sister’s class, and I were headed to the park. My after school sitter lived on the same street we moved to when I was in grammar school. We had a small park with a slide and a few swings right at the bottom of our street. I spent a good amount of time there and enjoyed walking the top of the chain link fence, trying to see if I could make it all the way from one end to the other without falling.

I have no idea if we were off to meet friends, just that we were walking down the street in that direction. Also, I have no idea what we were talking about but I do remember the word that came out of my mouth.

Fuck.

Just a word. One I still use in conversation to this day. Some things never change, I guess, despite the shocked look on her face and the following words out of her mouth:

“That’s a bad word! I’m telling my mom and she will tell your mom and you’ll be in trouble!”

For a split second, I actually felt like maybe I would be in trouble. But I went off to the park to enjoy my afternoon anyway. When I got back to my sitter’s house, I was greeted by the fact her daughter made good on her promise. She did, in fact, tell her mom.

And that’s when I actually felt the grip of fear.

For the first time in my life I heard the words, “I’m going to have to tell your mom and, if I was your mother, I’d wash your mouth out with soap.”

It was hours before my mom would get home from work. I had to live with the knowledge that my mother would take this horrible step the minute we got home. I paced. I panicked.

Soap? Like, real actual soap? In my mouth?

And what the fuck good would that do? It wasn’t like soap could actually wash a word out of my vocabulary.

Clearly.

But I digress…

I went to pee and that’s when I saw it. A smooth bar of off-white soap sitting innocently in the dusty rose, built-in, porcelain soap dish on the wall. I stood at the sink, an eleven year old girl. Always in trouble for something.

How bad could it be, I wondered?

Before I could stop myself to really consider what I was doing, the soap went from dish, to hand, to mouth. I pulled my teeth in and just used my lips, she didn’t say she’d make me eat the soap so I took a chance.

I let my tongue flick across the slick finish of the bar. I didn’t get another chance. My stomach lurched and I spit the bar into the sink, gagging at the taste.

Thankfully, I must have wiped that part of this memory because I can’t seem to pull up a single adjective to explain how bad it was. But I definitely remember that I stuck my face under the faucet and proceeded to wash my mouth soap away.

Pretty sure I muttered what the fuck under my breath.

And then, the time went by. At least I knew what to expect when I got home. It wouldn’t be pleasant but I knew, once it was removed, I could wash the taste away. And I’d never curse in front of that girl again.

The sitter, me, and my sister met my mom at the front of their foyer at the top of the stairs, as usual. I looked down at the maroon pile carpet. Steeled myself for the inevitable. Ready to face being in trouble for saying a word.

And then, to my incredible shock and awe, we all said goodbye without another word about the word.

For days after I assumed she would call my mother and tell her. That the bar of soap was sure to find a way back into my mouth any day. But it never came.

I don’t know if my mom ever learned of my horrible transgression or if, somehow, my sitter found out I’d punished myself. Or maybe she just wanted to instill the fear into me so I’d never curse again but didn’t ever intend on telling my mom.

Either way, I learned one thing that day. Don’t eat soap, kids.

Soap tastes like shit.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Makeup Your Mind California Dreamin' Series (book 3) Book Trailer!

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 12 Jan 2018 18:00:00 +0000

Okay ladies and gents, I finally decided to take the plunge. Go where the cool kids hang out. Okay, maybe that isn’t entirely true but I know I can at least safely say, I’m finally hanging out where the fearless folks make their living.

As the title suggests, I had a book trailer created for Makeup Your Mind and it is FINISHED!

So, a couple things you should know before I share the video with all of you.

First, I know that trailers generally come out before the book release to act as a teaser for the release date itself. And, yes, Makeup Your Mind dropped last November.

Unfortunately, Robert and I didn’t start talking about this as a possibility until I was already pretty far into the writing process and it was getting much closer to date of release. And, hello, video production takes time!

Second, this book trailer business is a first for both of us. On my end it’s both exhilarating and terrifying to try something new.

We are both at a critical time in our creative careers where it makes sense to branch out into new forms of media/new offerings to potential clients and it was perfect timing for both of us!

Finally, if you were around/growing up in the last “innocent” decade, the nineties, then welcome to your life flashback.

LITERALLY every detail about this trailer is exactly what I wanted without knowing how to even express it.

The layout, design, of the interior of the mall, the graphics, the fuzzy lips, the music. EVERYthing about this book trailer so perfectly captures the essence of nineties it makes me feel like I wrote the book and he created this trailer during that decade!

(Could I BE using more accentuated pronunciation?)

Robert is going to get me some business cards, contact info, rates, etc. soon so I can refer his services all over town because I know there are other authors out there ready to make the leap into the fun world of video accompaniment.

So, without further rambling (gushing, over-the-top praise???) here’s the very first Writesy Press, LLC book release book trailer!

Give Robert some love and les us both know what you think.

“This year is gonna rock for all of us!”

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Lighten Up

noreply@blogger.com (Jenn Flynn-Shon) — Fri, 05 Jan 2018 12:07:00 +0000

I am deeming this the year of everything is right. Or, maybe, follow my gut, not my panic.

Either way, this year I’m trying to let go of a little bit of the frantic panic and worry I’ve let myself adopt over the way I spend my days.

When I looked back on my year last year (by essentially taking the entire month of December off from writing), I realized I wrote and released three books last year.

I mean, that’s fucking huge.

At times I still question how I found the motivation, dedication, to do that plus all the other shit that comes from living life and being a self-employed person: running the rest of my company (marketing, dinners, meetings, interviews, accounting, dispensing writing advice…), seeing family, friends, vacations, hockey games, eating, doing laundry, construction projects, testing makeup techniques…

The list goes on.

So, when I took stock and realized that, in addition to the books I did some, or a lot, of all that other stuff too, it finally hit me. I hate worrying but I work so much better under pressure. But, the thing is, the pressure doesn’t come from the outside world. It comes from me.

It has to. I’m the chief cook and bottle washer over in the Writesy Press, LLC offices.

But, somewhere along the course of building this brand, I let ‘striving with purpose to achieve my goals’ turn into ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH MUST WRITE NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

Somewhere within the last six years since starting this company, I gave up the girl who used to just ride the river of life and end up okie dokie in the end. I went all helicopter parent on my company and gave it zero room to breathe. And it was exhausting.

I don’t have a boss. Other than me. I don’t have work to do. Other than mine. If books don’t hit the market nobody suffers.

Other than me.

Then I realize, despite all the times I felt like a slacker, slug, for sitting on my ass one day or whatever, I still wrote and released three decent stories. Books I’m proud to say I wrote. And between every word, I likely penned somewhere around 250k words last year.

Fuck. Yeah!

And I have my eight month projection calendar filled to capacity with the details of this year’s three book schedule, too.

The difference over doing that last year at this time, I’m not freaking out about getting it all done.

Maybe it’s because I already did it once so I know how to schedule things in more manageable chunks. Maybe it’s because I have a renewed interest in making my dreams come true. Maybe it’s just because I finally decided that I can trust my process.

Regardless why, I’m planning to spend the year doing exactly what I know I need to do on that day to further my goals, and not feel panic because I’m not doing something else/a list a mile long every day.

I’m letting the day guide me and so far, it feels slightly weird but overall pretty good.

A perfect example of this just happened.

I usually pre-write and schedule my blog posts (I’m writing this on Thursday). That way, I can write, proof, and edit before the post goes live.

I didn't even attempt to start working today until a little after 11AM and then took my lunch break at noon. I spent the morning coloring my hair, consuming The Weather Channel blizzard coverage, and scrolling Facebook.

Last year, I would have been mad at myself for not adhering to some strict schedule of work. Like, starting my day at 8AM was vital to my job. It isn’t. Or that ending my day at 5PM is when I’m supposed to stop. It’s not.

But there’s a hockey game tonight at 5PM. And no chance of writing while watching hockey. It’s just too much action and I love that action. It’s how I unwind.

Time. The biggest enemy of a worrier.

Then, with my hair a hot mess of brassy red, as I was booting up my laptop to maybe get started, the Meteorologist on The Weather Channel stationed in downtown Boston said the Bruins game for tonight has been rescheduled due to the weather.

I laughed. Literally, out loud. Because it worked in some weird way. Time wasn’t a factor. And the blog post I wanted to write (so I could do what I said I would this year and be more consistent with posting), is all but finished at this point. Calm and steady. Flowing words without expectations.

All morning I did my thing, not stressing out about time even though I used to tell myself I was wasting a lot. Knowing that the main activity on my calendar consisted of writing this blog post and editing it so I could schedule for posting tomorrow (today when you’re reading this).

Zero panic. And I still have time to do some other stuff that now puts me ahead for starting the first draft of the first book of this year on Monday. If I want to do it. Still trying to decide.

Will I be able to keep up this Zen approach to my work all year long? I don’t know, ask me in August when I have the second book of the year scheduled for release. All I know is I’m going to try.

It feels like success already.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.