Krissie: Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Photo on 7-19-13 at 9.00 AM Okay, the photos are looking a little boring. Maybe I’d better “Act, damn you.” Prepare for some poses.
So Jenny’s Bad Wolf is a different one from mine. Jenny’s Bad Wolf chows down on “you’re stupid, you can’t get anything done, you’re self-indulgent” etc. (I’m paraphrasing – her Bad Wolf says “you should be doing this, not that” which is the same thing).
My Good Wolf is the sturdy mother of Romulus and Remus. She tells me I’m brilliant, she tells me I’m funny (though my Bad Wolf makes me go too far), she tells me I’m magnificent.
Which of course I am. I’m in my element right now, and there’s something very freeing about it having nothing to do with writing, because I define myself with my writing.
But I digress. It’s been hot and humid and my Bad Wolf has spent the week sleeping. Oh, he’s popped up every now and then, but mainly he’s been working behind the scenes, getting me to commit to too much.
Today I’m writing a blog, copying the mayor’s speeches onto index cards because he’s 80 and can’t remember, heading down to Cara’s for an hour and a half of sewing, then rehearsal and notes at 2, working till 4:30, picnic on the town green (I’ll probably run home and jump in the pool), then another run through from 5:30 to 9. It’ll be in the high 80’s and very humid.
Oh, and I have to make my Pick-a-little hat today, plus I filled out a college loan application (don’t judge me) that got denied.
I’ll come home, jump in the pool if there’s no lightning (I did yesterday in the rain) and then fall into bed.
I volunteered to do the sewing (lots of it). I volunteered to do the cards for the Mayor. I volunteered to make my hat.
I volunteered to make the apron. Ye Gods.
I don’t know whether it’s GW or BW who tells me I can do all this. I think the main problem is energy. Performing is a burn-out, of course, with lots of standing and posing (One Grecian Urn!) and a bit of running on stage, not to mention the creative energy. Draining myself ahead of time isn’t a good idea.
I just need to do the best I can, and set limits when I can. I sit at any possible moment.
I’m not complaining. I’m still having the best time in the world. I just wish the damned Bad Wolf would shut up and stop raising his hand. Next thing you know I’ll start offering to do PR and then I really would explode.
So, does your Bad Wolf sign up for things that are too much?
Or does he tell you not to try at all? I’d rather have one that makes me do too much than one who tries to frighten me.
And speaking of wolves, I’ll recommend a good Werewolf romance each Friday. The first, the best, is BITTEN by Kelley Armstrong.

Krissie: Revamping

I was thinking today might be the last day I could sit outside and write, but that’s not true. I’ll definitely come out here for some pictures during foliage. Here are there a few trees are changing — throwing out some bright orange. I think peak will be late this year (it’s an ongoing obsession with Vermonters during September and October — which day is peak color). But there should still be some glorious stuff for Jenny when she gets here.
So, revamping. No, not me. I’m as fully vamped as possible — in fact, I’m adorable. I’m wearing a t-shirt I bought in Japan that I never could wear — even super large Japanese tourist t-shirts were too small. But now they cling nicely. Woohoo!
If I keep remembering that I can keep giving away Mrs. Fields.
No, I’m revamping the book again. I got off on the wrong track, but I think I can fix it fairly easily this time, and I’m only 100 pages in so I’m feeling good about it. I couldn’t decide whether my hero was Mr. Rochester or Loki. He’s Loki. He’s Toby Stephens playing Loki. Yum.
(We can talk about the act and art of writing here if we want to. The only rule about Publishing Club is we don’t talk about Publishing Club. Which is more like Fight Club than you can imagine.)
Yesterday was a difficult day. My BFF came over and was so horrified by my house. All the family relics all over the place, photos of dead relatives (from my mother’s place). She said it looked like a monument to the dead. Didn’t mean to depress me, but it did, since I was already feeling completely overwhelmed by it and where to put things. There’s just no place. We have an upright piano we don’t want, a full size treadmill which we need (Richie uses it all winter and every day it rains) and Richie has two desks and uses half the dining room table. Don’t ask.
And then Richie and I got into it over the fucking Big House. His sister is going to be here when Jenny is (I can call her Jenny now that we’ve got Mini-me established), and I wanted him to take his sister out for the day so I could show it to Jenny. Because it is gorgeous, and if all the bad juju was swept away it would the best writers’ retreat.
He said he’d try, but she might say she had plans. I said “then I’ll call her up and ask her to leave. And if she asks why, I’ll tell her because I don’t like her.”
Which didn’t go over big with Richie.
I was driving two days ago (on the interstate) and thinking about My Precious (the other name for the Big House) and realized I was driving 80 mph! The damned thing is as poisonous as the Ring.
So he got upset and I got upset and we went off to our respective corners and I took a nap and he was sweet.
But damn, that thing looms large in our lives. And in the end his sister will force him to choose between the big house and me and he’ll choose me and lose his sister, and that stinks. We have so little family.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Gotta revamp some more today, then go talk to my therapist about setting limits with the kids (and Richie). And my son is here so I hope that will be joy, not stress. I get Alex for the night on Saturday, after his birthday party, so all is good.
But I’ve already sent an email to Kate about her college aid, setting limits. I set limits with Tim over the phone last night.
I need to set some limits with Richie over his sister and the big house, but for now I can drop it.
I can go play with Loki and Josie and have a lovely time.
Shit, and go see my mother’s stone which is now in the graveyard.
Well, every day can’t be glorious.