Shannon Stacey

And so it begins…

My plan for the new year: get up at a reasonably early time, write for several hours, build a couple of discussion threads for the “day job”, then take a weedwhacker to my Yahoogroups. Seriously, most of the “industry” loops I subscribe to have become nothing more than commercials for one on-line class or contest after another. I swear I get more spam from my fellow writers than I do from the guy who wants to enlarge my penis. (sure, and wouldn’t that suprise the husband?)

I took one online class last year done by email. All of the digests from that class are still sitting in a folder, unread. And I quit contests. Who wants to see the same people final with the same manuscripts time after time after time? Ummm….do you have more than 3 chapters? Have you submitted them to anybody who can actually publish them? Anyway…

My reality for the new year: After staying up until 2 because the husband and I foolishly stumbled onto a Blind Date marathon (I swear, the daters are like train wrecks, but those pop-up thought bubbles kill me), I was dragged out of bed by the phone ringing. My sister wants to get together to do the Christmas thing today. This wouldn’t be catastrophic, because we each drive an hour, meeting in the middle, (although she wants to meet at Chuck E. Cheese’s this time–shoot me now: my 9-year-old will head off with dad, leaving me with our 4-year-old and my 3 nephews under 4) except I haven’t actually bought their gifts yet. You know how it is–when you have people you know you won’t see until after Christmas, you put them off until later. Later, apparently, has arrived.

Stores still trashed from Christmas returns and clerks/cashiers hung-over from New Year’s, followed by a relaxing afternoon at the last resort for all parents of cabin-fevered, uberhyper children. If what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, watch out because I’ll be able to kick some serious ass by nightfall.

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