The Writing Proce-- HEY A BUNNY!

Hello all of you who have somehow managed to scrape past another week in the real world! I hope you are all alive and well.

So a question that I have been asked more times than William Shatner has over-acted in regards to "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is, "What does your writing process look like?"

The last person who asked me this I decided to answer in the Socratic method with another question, "What do you think it looks like?"

This is pretty much what they described:

I think I laughed for a solid 5 minutes, because in reality this is what my writing process looks like:

Because I have been asked multiple times, I decided I might as well just post the "secrets" of my writing process here:

Everything starts out well. I select some motivational music, don my writing Batman boxers (alternatively, I also have my writing basketball shorts) and open up my most recent project, all the while contemplating the things I wish to add.

Then I stare blankly at the screen for a couple of minutes as I suddenly realize that I have no idea what I wish to title my story. I throw around ideas for a minute or two, before titling it something like, "That One Time I Dropped a Carrot," resolving to come back and think up a witty title later.

Now I can dive into my story, except I have to come up with a first line, and those are always difficult. I spend another two minutes singing along with MC Hammer's "U Can't Touch This," and may or may not get up to do the corresponding dance.

Can I just say, that no matter how ridiculous MC Hammer's pants are, you can't deny that they look super duper comfy. It's like the Snuggie of pants. Anyways, I digress, which is pretty much where my writing process is at this juncture.

Of course, after singing along to a classic hit you have to look up the lyrics to make sure you got the second verse right. Then you look up the music video just to make sure you did the dance right too.

After 3 or 4 more nostalgic music videos, I finally return to writing and get a couple of solid paragraphs down. Suddenly, my mental thesaurus fails me and I return to the internet to find a synonym for "ostentatious."

When you go online, you can't help but check your Facebook, which somehow ends with you watching a video on how to peel garlic in less than ten seconds (no really, it's mesmerizing). Ten minutes later I find myself watching a video about how gerbils digest their food.

I return to writing, and get a few more paragraphs done when this happens:

 After I have extricated the cat, and erased the resulting page long line of random kitty-butt-gibberish, I get down a few more sentences.

I'm just getting into the groove when I remember that my laundry has been in the washer for approximately the same amount of time it takes to boil an ostrich egg, and I dash off to fix that conundrum.

I return, swearing that I will not lose track of time and the laundry will not be neglected. As I'm about to sit down and resume writing, I realize that I my coffee cup is empty. While in the kitchen replacing my writers' fuel I discover that one of my little fuzzy bandits has decided to open a drawer and eviscerate its contents. Cleaning commences.

Then on my way back to my computer, I look out my window to see two rednecks attempting to push a refrigerator out of a second story window, and there is just no way I am going to miss this first rate fiasco.

After the crash and half of the rednecks' porch subsequently vanishing, I finally get back to writing. At this point I finally can refocus a bit as the caffeine kicks in and I get a ton of writing done (most of which I will look at later and say, "What was that!? No, bad plan," before shuddering and deleting it).

There are days when I am a good little focused writer and I get mass amounts written. But for the most part, what you just read is pretty much how my "writing process" works.

So let this be a lesson to all aspiring writers, if your writing process involves being able to sit for long periods of time and pounding out thousands of words, then good for you.

However, if you're like me, and your writing process often times takes you down the rabbit hole to Wonderland, through Narnia and then possibly takes bribing yourself with ice cream just to get something down, don't worry. I got a book published via my method, you can too!

Remember if you ever need to be provided with a distraction of your own you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads! 

Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I did forget the laundry again.

Challenge Accepted!!!

Hello ladies, gentlemen and anyone from beyond the veil who has decided to drop in. I hope you are all having a splendiferous Monday (which I realize is an oxymoron, but come on people, let's not all be Garfields here).

I was asked a very interesting question this week about "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" that I felt I just had to answer. The question was, "Aside from being something to read, what other uses could your book serve?"

Immediately I ran to my secret laboratory (a.k.a. my living room) and began testing the book's usefulness in various aspects of daily life.

There were quite a few failures.

For instance, the book does not taste good and has very few nutritive properties.

Even with the addition of blackberry jam, which I adore, it was still practically flavorless, and I couldn't saute it in oil, because it kept bursting into flames.

It also fails to make a smashing hat for a cat (see Santeria the Destroyer modeling below).

Several Band-Aids later, and appointments made for both of us to see therapists, Santeria and I agreed that that was a poorly thought through venture.

Apparently, it doesn't make appropriate work attire either.

Prudes.

However, not all of my experiments were failures. For example, there are a few blank spots, like on the title page and publication page, in which one can draw Godzilla attacking a random city.

I know, my artistic abilities astound even myself some days (there's a reason I write instead of illustrate). 

You can also use it as your own private desk fort, from which you can glare at passersby that you don't wish to chat with.

I dare anyone to attack my personal fort with anything less than a catapult built from a spoon loaded with spit wads!

Then of course there is its ability to repel evil in all its forms. Sadly, I could not find any evil in my apartment that I could dramatically battle in front of the camera using my book (I didn't have any goblins, clowns or Justin Bieber fans handy). So, instead I give you this picture of She-Ra, and give you permission to use your imagination to make my dramatic point.

There, question answered! 

In other news "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is getting some awesome reviews from readers (and I didn't even have to threaten them with large sticks to get them).  

One Amazon reader wrote: 

"I love the light hearted humor in this book. I picked it up to read a couple lines and couldnt put it down. The author has a witty and quirky way of writing that is refreshing and very creative. I am very glad I ordered this book!"

Edmund C. McCombs (Author of "Stuck at Seven (While Awkwardly Aiming for Ten)" (which is an awesome book in its own right, follow the link if you need extra material to add to your reading stack) wrote:

"This book is a whimsical riot. Allison tours you through some of her life's more interesting and exciting moments by revealing the inappropriateness that walks in and out of her life on, what appears to be, an all-too-often basis. Her writing style is engaging and she uses very descriptive and well thought out phrases. I recommend it to anyone looking for a laugh as you walk hand-in-hand with Allison through the awkward fields of her life. Well done!"

Aww shucks! *Looks down, blushes, kicks dirt with toe.* Thanks guys!

Well that's all I have for now. As always feel free to follow me on Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest! Have a lovely evening everyone!

Tell Me a Story

--> I was talking with a friend the other night who, after hearing about my work-based meth-addict moment of the week, commented, “You have the best stories.”

The next day I thought about that statement a lot longer than my sun-frazzled brain should have, because, I wasn’t really sure if she was correct.  Sure, I may have some great stories, but so does she, and so does nearly every other human being I have ever been trapped in an elevator with, talked to in a slow grocery store line or been squished next to on a red-eye airplane flight. 

I am the type of person who will unashamedly strike up a conversation with almost anyone. The group of little old ladies at the gym, the bored looking teenager at the DMV, the crazy looking, obviously armed, tattooed biker who is waiting in line for his drink at a coffee shop, I have no problem making eye contact, smirking and saying, “Hello.”

Due to the fact that my mother burned any sense of shame I might have ever possessed out of me at a very young age, combined with a low fear of danger affecting my person, I have gotten to hear remarkable, fascinating, joyous, heart-wrenching, funny and courageous stories from around the world.

The thing that constantly amazes me is how much coaxing it often takes to assure someone that no, really, I do want to hear their stories. When I profess an interest in hearing a random snippet of someone’s life I’m usually given a facial expression that someone might reserve for looking at a penguin that magically just begun singing and dancing The Time Warp.

I’m not talking, necessarily about deep personal stories that someone might only want to share with a therapist (though, I have heard those as well). I’m talking the everyday, my grandmother used to live across from my high school and bake me cookies every day, I used to have a job working as a telemarketer and I had this one crazy call, I once taught myself how to build chairs from scratch, stories.

It saddens me that so many people believe that their stories are worth so little. Our stories, as an extension of our experiences, make us who we are.

So let me encourage anyone who happens to be reading this to not only listen to others’ stories, but to share your own. No, seriously, go and tell a story to your friends, post a moment from your life here in the comments, strike up a conversation with a stranger and find out you have something in common. Your stories are part of what make you unique, so why not share bits of you with others?

Can't I Just Start in the Middle?

I have the absolute worst time starting things.

Conversations, massive organizing projects, cooking dinner, blog posts, are all harder for me to begin than a limbless shrew attempting to start a lawn mower.

I'm not a procrastinator, well most of the time. It's often that I just get completely overwhelmed by the thought of the entire process.

My intentions start out well. I get up and with great purpose stride towards the mop determined to clean my floors.  I will have victory and clean floors!

As I walk towards my intended target I start thinking about all that task will entail.  Ok, I have to move some furniture, then sweep and make sure everything is up off the floor... 

About halfway there my brain shorts out and I suddenly realize that my shoes by the front door are not lined up and for some reason that suddenly offends me more than being smacked across the face with a herring. Then I realize that I should probably go through the fruit on my counter and make sure none of it has gone bad. Then, of course, you can't forget to double check to see if you paid the electric bill yesterday or not. Then some of my books are upside down...

At this point it's been an hour and honestly I would have been finished long ago with my chosen task if I had just focused and gotten it done.  Now I begrudgingly wander towards my kitchen and start the mopping process very much in a "Hard Knock Life" type mood.

Each and every time I have the same exact feeling of, "Ugh! Why was that so hard to start!?"

When it comes to writing I am ten times worse.  It took me 45 minutes just to write the first two sentences of this post. However, in that 45 minutes I also checked my bank account balance, picked the perfect writing music, saw what was going on on Facebook (nothing, as always), chose different perfect writing music, looked up how long the movie "The Shining" is and whole bunches of super useful stuff. 

Sadly, it isn't until around this point that I can just start writing and continue to do so without having to pause every few minutes to Google the lyrics to that one song that I can't quite remember the chorus to.

Once I get into a rhythm with my writing things tend to go better, and I feel much less like I'm trying to squeeze out my words as if I'm trying to fit a koala into a wine bottle.

And, of course, as I get into my "writing zone," I hear a pathetic meow come from the other room.  Santeria, my rather danger prone one-year old cat, has managed to get stuck upside down from the back of the chair, her tiny hind claws stuck in the material.

Well writing focus, it was nice of you to stop by, but I should probably go rescue my cat.

As this is the first post in a brand new baby blog, I felt this was an appropriate failing of mine to admit.

Am I the only one who has this inability to start projects? I would love to hear any and all input, particularly if you can tell me how to avoid my dilly-dallying ways without the use of a cattle prod.