This Chapter Will Kill

If you follow my book blog, you’ve seen my happy announcements about the current edit of the Screwing Up Time sequel. Everything was moving along at a nice clip. I told my primary betas (my alpha betas) that I’d be ready to give them the book sometime next week....I was naïve.

I’d yet to meet the chapter from Gehenna. The bog of writerly progress. The editing equivalent of writer’s block. Granted, it is an overlong chapter. So I could see it taking longer than the other chapters. But I had steeled my resolve. I’d locked and loaded my writerly skills: Red pen? Check. Outline to verify earlier plot twists? Check. Kick-the-chapter’s-butt attitude? Check.

Then the chapter kicked back. I read the opening paragraphs. I swallowed. The most boring tripe ever written. But that’s okay. That’s why there’s editing. So I fixed the opening. Then I read it again the next day. YAWN. So I fixed it again. And refused to re-read it the next day. I moved on. The next scene read clunky. The plot was there, but it read like a plot outline. In response, I played a game of Free Cell. (For non-writers, the point of playing Free Cell is to win the game and take that confidence into the edit. Pathetic, I know. But you do what works. I don’t call it “procrastination.” I call it “preparation”.) Afterwards, I went back to the clunky scene and made it less clunky-ish. I decided not to go back and reread.

The next scene was also sleep inducing—of course, climbing a staircase is never a hot plot point, but a writer must do what she can. Normally, you include some character’s emotional reveal. But these are teenage boys (not girls), and they don’t share their emotions as they tread the steps. I did what I could and promised myself that I’d rework it later.

After two games of Free Cell (I lost the first one and you can only edit with a sense of well-being), I read the next scene, which was one of the emotional high points of the novel. The scene was two paragraphs long. What was I thinking? I can understand this mistake in a first draft because I’m an underwriter. But I’d already edited this chapter once before. What was wrong with me then?! I needed multiple games of Free Cell and squares of chocolate to get my writing mojo back.

So now I’m just over halfway through this chapter—I’m beginning to think that it reproduces during the night. Every day I work on it, there seem to be more pages to work on. Then, this morning I woke up with a nasty cold. (Which I’ve already had this season.) And I think it’s the chapter. It’s trying to kill me. And I’m being to feel like I want to succumb. 

Taking Charge of Your Nightmares

When I was in college, my Intro to Pysch prof made us keep dream journals because he wanted us to learn to control our dreams. (Yes, we all thought he was certifiable. And sadly he was tenured and spent most of his time talking about Native American dream catchers and not Freud et al.) Despite the 500 of us diligently, or not so diligently, writing down our dreams, none of us learned to control them.

It’s a cool idea though. I’d especially like to control my nightmares. When I have them, I wake up drenched in sweat. And often when I fall back to sleep I end up in the same nightmare. I did learn to “finish” my nightmares when I woke up and that usually keeps me from going back into the nightmare. So if I was being pursued and my legs were frozen and I couldn’t move or scream, I finish the dream by being able to run/scream/shoot/etc. I’m not too creative at 2am. But I’m considering adding a bullwhip and scythe-sword to my post-dream arsenal.

Lately, I’ve been having these semi-nightmares. Not really scary, but disconcerting. First, I’d get tied up and thrown into a tiny box—I had about four nights of these. Thankfully, I’m not claustrophobic, but getting thrown into an igloo cooler was a bit much. The next night, I had a dream that the stalker was back. (If you’ve been reading my blog for a long time, you know that I had a stalker in college—back before anti-stalking laws—who made my life and that of a couple of my friends a horror.) At any rate, in the dream I captured the stalker!! And I slapped him across the face.

I haven’t learned to control my dreams and I still think my prof was seriously crazed, but getting “closure” sure felt good. Next up, the evil shadowy guy that stuffed me in a box. I’ve got a taser and handcuffs waiting for him.

Bob the Criminal Strikes Again

Do you remember those Citibank identity theft commercials from years ago? I used to think they were hilarious (though my family thought I was insane). I still think they're sort of funny, but then things have changed in the last five years.

A couple of weeks ago we received a notice that we needed to submit additional paperwork for our children’s FAFSAs (Free Application for Federal Student Aid). They wanted a data transfer from the IRS. Weird. But we tried, and the IRS notified us that our current address is not associated with my husband’s social security number—strange given that we’ve live here for five years. Cal and I swallowed and hoped it was a typo. We had an inkling where this might be going...

Five years ago Cal had his identity stolen. We didn’t know until we got a letter from the bank stating that they had frozen all our accounts. (Imagine mortgage, utility, & credit card payments bouncing.) I thought it was a mistake. It wasn’t. An illegal alien had bought Cal’s social security number. (According to the Social Security Administration criminals look through old employment records, copy the SSNs of former employees, and sell them). After buying the number, this particular alien set up a checking account with Cal’s SSN and wrote bad checks. And Cal was being held responsible. We tried to file a police report. No good. We aren’t allowed to know the criminal’s name. He has a right to privacy. (Yes, they told us this with a straight face.) Though his name was Jose Cruz (I have an interesting ability—I can read upside down and backwards, just as easily as forwards). And even though I read his address too, we couldn’t file charges because it was across state lines.

So the other day when we had the IRS glitch, I really, really hoped for a clerical error. Cal called the IRS. They wouldn’t talk over the phone. So he went to the IRS to chat—after waiting in line for three hours. It turns out that Cal’s number was stolen again. This time, however, someone was trying to get a tax refund with Cal’s number.

The IRS couldn’t discuss the faux tax return with us because Cal had to prove that he was indeed Calvin Keller who has had the SSN for 50 years as opposed to Bob the Criminal who’s had it for 6 months. Cal had to photocopy his driver’s license and passport and file an affidavit. In 30 days, when the IRS has (hopefully) processed the paperwork, then they’ll discuss the problem with us. And they’ll assign Cal a super-duper secret IRS pin number. Of course, the fact that someone in Michigan knew we’d get a tax return points to an insider job, but no one seems too concerned about that. So I’m not sure how helpful the super secret personal identification number will be...

In the meantime, our tax paperwork is frozen—and the kids’ financial aid paperwork is frozen. (A clock is ticking in the background for that. It’s our understanding that FAFSA issues must be resolved by the end of April.)

So now we have to notify our bank, all three credit report agencies, and the Federal Trade Commission. Doesn’t that sound like fun? It wouldn’t be so bad if I had any kind of assurance that the government or police were doing something to prevent this crime. But all we’ve gotten are shrugs. And as the IRS lady said, “It can happen to anyone.” And, obviously, it can happen more than once.

What about you all? Do any of you have identity theft horror stories?

Nota Bene:

Several people have recommended identity protection services. Unfortunately, these services, which we have used in the past, would not have caught either incidence of SSN abuse because though banks require you to submit an SSN, they are not obligated to verify it. And, of course, federal databases like the IRS are not available to these services. And it’s especially difficult to catch these criminals because while they are using Cal’s SSN, they aren’t using his name.

Identity theft is becoming a huge issue. The FTC has announced that they are now receiving 50,000 notices per week of identity theft. And stealing SSNs to get tax refunds is the new “hot” identity crime. These criminals file early in attempt to beat you to the tax refund. We filed in late January, and Bob the Criminal beat us, which is why the IRS documents had us living in Michigan.

Here's one more commercial.

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award

In January I entered my novel, Screwing Up Time into the young adult category of Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel Award competition. Yesterday they posted the writers/books that made the first cut. So I looked for my name and didn’t find it. I consoled myself by saying I knew it was a long shot because the competition is stiff and the first round of the competition cuts the entrants by 80%.

But just before I closed the website, I remembered that I entered under CM Keller and not Connie Keller. So I checked for CM Keller. And it was there! I made it to round two!

The next cut will be a quarter finals cut and will be announced on March 20, so I’ll be hoping and praying. But once again, the cut is big. Of the remaining 20%, they’ll cut that by 75%.

Did any of you enter the competition this year? Did you make it to the second round? Did you enter any of the previous years? 

Scarlett's Questions

My friend Scarlett at Scarlett's Tattoo tagged me yesterday. Here are my questions and answers. (And watch out, I'll be tagging on Friday.) BTW, she regularly posts Barefoot Cook columns, so check out her recipes. Today's is Spicy Sausage Croissant.

1. If your life were a book, what would it be titled?

The Completely Surprising Adventures of a Woman who had her Whole Life Planned Out and then Everything Changed.

2. Tell us a favorite childhood memory.

My mom bought me a stuffed donkey when I was very sick. I loved it so much it lost all its fur.

3. Is there a time limit on fortune cookie predictions?

Um, I don’t like fortune cookies. But if they made fortune chocolate chip cookies, it would be a different story.

4. Name three lessons LIFE has taught you.

1. A baby boy always pees as soon as you take off his diaper.

2. The sewage pipes stop working when you have houseguests.

3. You can say bad words as long as they’re in a poem. (I went to a strict Baptist high school and wrote a poem with a cuss word in it. The other students were appalled. But my teacher said, “The poem is perfect. The cuss word stays.” And people wonder why I write...)

5. Oceans or Mountains, and why?

Oceans. They’re peaceful, and I love playing in the waves. Plus, salt water is good for the skin. And there's always the chance that you'll see a shark. Of course, that undermines the peaceful part.

6. What makes you smile?

Besides my husband and kids, PG Wodehouse makes me laugh. You have to love someone who says,

            “The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.” 

             “I'm not absolutely certain of the facts, but I rather fancy it's Shakespeare who says that it's always

              just when a fellow is feeling particularly braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind 

              him with the bit of lead piping.” 

            “I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.”

7. What would you dare to do if you knew you could not fail?

Publish a book. But I did that even though I knew I could “fail.” But being brave is doing something in spite of your fears. Though that could be insanity too.

8. Do you believe in ghosts? What about Muppets?

Nope. I don’t believe in ghosts. But I do believe in Muppets. I loved Gonzo.

9. What is your favorite thing about yourself?

I have good teeth. I didn’t need braces, and I’m not prone to cavities.

10. Given three wishes, what would you wish?

I’m by nature a perfectionist, so this is a hard one.

1. A house that cleaned itself.

2. Clothes that ironed themselves. Of course, that would mean I wouldn’t get my “ironing treat,” which is streaming a movie on Netflix. Can I change that wish?

3. The annihilation of all mosquitoes. I don’t think they add anything to the balance of the ecosystem.

11. What is the one thing you could not live without?

Indoor plumbing. Seriously. I can cope with just about anything as long as I take a hot bath. This is the problem with camping. That and the mosquitoes.

Spring!

I know it’s only February and it’s still freezing every night, but the flowers are insisting that it’s spring in Chattanooga. So I thought I’d share some photos for all of you who are still stuck in snow and frigid weather--the icy ground crunched under foot this morning as I took these photos, but when there are daffodils, winter is over.

Here's a hellebore (also called a Lenten Rose).

This picture is boring. But it's my patch of mint that's come out of dormancy. This means I'll soon be having mint tea at bedtime. Thanks, Suzie, for teaching me to make a proper mint tisane. It's like drinking liquid sleep.

Thanks, everyone, for your well wishes for Jake and Matt’s Shakespeare tryouts. Jake got the role of Antonio in The Tempest. And Matt got the role of Claudio in Much Ado About Nothing. 

Shakespeare Tryouts and Writing

Today Matthew and Jacob have Shakespeare tryouts. They’ve got their lines memorized, and they’ve worked through the blocking. And this afternoon, they’ll try out for the same role, Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing. That should be interesting. (The director is also casting for The Tempest, so one or both may be in that play.)

I go to tryouts for moral support. But it’s so hard. I root for all the kids and my heart breaks for the ones who struggle, especially for the ones who’ve never done it before. I want to shout, “Honey, project, we can’t hear you.” And afterwards, I want to console them. I want to tell them that even if it didn’t go well, getting on stage is the first step. And if they persevere, the next year will be better because they’ll know how to project. They’ll know that in stage acting you must always face the audience. And they’ll know how to use the stage and how to gesture.

It strikes me that there are many parallels between acting and writing. While it’s true that some people are more naturally gifted than others, everyone starts as a newbie. The first story/novel you write isn’t going to be very good. In fact, it’s going to be quite bad. Just like the actor who turns his back to the audience while speaking, the writer has to learn not to chase after irrelevant sub-plots. You may love scrapbooking and describing how to cut beautiful paper, etc. But if it doesn’t impact your novel in more ways than giving your MC a hobby, you need to leave it out. And just like the actor who doesn’t know how to project until he can practice on a stage, you have to learn how to choose your words so that your voice shows through and not your thesaurus.

Recently, a blog friend got a rejection on an R&R (an agent asked her to "revise and resubmit" her manuscript). I’ve been there, so I know how much that hurts. To be so, so close to having your dreams come true, and then having your dreams trampled on. But just as the actor who gets a small role, it’s a step in the right direction. Getting a small role means you’re a step closer to getting a big role. Getting a request for an R&R means that the agent thinks you and your writing have real potential. Who knows what may happen next time? Unlike a lot of things in life, you can only get so far reading books on writing/acting, the real education comes in the doing—you must write/tryout, you must hone your skills, and above all you must never give up.