Okay, I finally broke down and bought a bag of Halloween candy. At 50% off. You know why? Because a candyless house after Halloween is a FREAKY place to be. Especially when one member of the household has a secret candy stash that everyone else wants to sink their teeth into.
Twilight's got nothing on us.
As Gad as my witness, I will never be a Halloween humbug again.
So I need to make a correction to my last post. My daughter and her friends did not make and deliver Valentines on Halloween at all. They made and delivered creepy stalker notes, which fit the spirit of the holiday better. So they say. Apparently it was just a spooky prank. So they say. And I believe them.
Although just as there is a little bit of truth in every joke, I bet there is also a little bit of love in every creepy stalker note. A little bit of Valentines in every Halloween, so to speak.
But that's just one dummy's opinion, and the thing I love about being a dummy is that if your opinion offends, you can always just blink and shrug and say, "huh?"
Plus I love just sitting down at the computer without a thought in my head and letting my fingers do the talking for me--stream of conscience style. I'm amazed at the utter nonsense that comes out when I'm not planning or preparing or pondering. A cleansing breath after doing massive amounts of serious writing, which is what I've been up to for the past few months. We writers call it working on our craft.
I've been working on my craft, peeps! And guess what! I'm in a writer's critique group now. So I can work on my craft.
I. love. it.
What writer's critique groups do is they support and encourage each other as they work on their craft. And also they critique each other. Which means they help each other get literary.
Bet you can't guess what the #1 critique writers who are working on their craft give each other.
Bloggy is an adjective now. It means too much punch. And in my case, too much spiked punch, if you get my drift.
But yay for too much spiked punch every so often, huh!? After a hard days work, huh!?
Can I get an amen?
It may not get you into grad school or earn you respect in intellectual circles, but what the hay! That's what I always say. What the hay!
I'm writing a collection of voice lessons, and guess what lesson I learned from my own voice lessons? I learned that I love my dummy voice. Fer reals, I would marry her, cept she couldn't support me.
I've also learned that your voice is fragile. You gotsta protect it because when it doesn't blend, people will let you know. Not writer's critique people, who are trying to help you refine your voice, but proper authority people.
I'm talking about one of my ex-young women. She's still a young woman, but she's not MY young woman anymore since the bishop broke up with me. See a few nights ago I attended YW in Excellence and my ex-young woman was practicing a musical number for the program. She was singing her heart out and her voice was so fresh, so original, and so unique that it bounced off my soul in new and exciting ways.
But all of a sudden the woman accompanying her on the piano stopped, and, in her best church lady voice, gave her a voice lesson of her own.
"Maybe that type of singing is okay for a country song, but IT'S. NOT. APPROPRIATE here in the church."
You know what I have to say about that?
Because that just ain't true now, is it! Every voice is beautiful to God. Especially a voice that comes straight from the heart.
Which reminds me of a hundred stories.
Maybe I'll tell them someday.
When I'm finished working on my craft.