Where Ladybugs Roar

Confessions and Passions of a Compulsive Writer

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

I loathe self-loathing.

Oh crap. I just got a personalized rejection on Honor that seemed eerily similar to my dream. This always, despite the best of intentions, throws me into a depression spiral of doubt--until my sense of humor kicks in--or I get pie--whichever comes first.

So, I started the oven cleaning--and have recently remembered why you only clean a self-cleaning oven on days when you can OPEN YOUR WINDOWS. My life stinks today--literally. Plus, you can't just leave your oven on 900 degrees and go for pie.... (Eventually, I do start to consider fire dangerous again under the right circumstances.)

If I go take a shower and blow off cleaning and running, I can go get pie after the oven finishes and still be back in time for the kids' bus.

On the other hand, the heel of ultimate ugliness has healed and is ready for a jaunt in the running shoes. That might help get me out of this sadness "woe is me" moment.

It's not pie, though. Running is not pie... which is probably good, because pie is high in fat and no one would run if it wasn't good for you.

Oven smoke is making my eyes water... I swear... that's why I'm crying... it's not my poor crushed writer's soul.

Actually, it is the oven. Whose bright idea was this? Who lets me think on my own on a Tuesday? Someone should have put the kibash on this right away. I'm only allowed to make my own decisions on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings. Wait... I ruined the heel on a Wednesday night. Okay. Saturday mornings. All other days, I'm giving less creatively stupid people veto power.

Eyes burning. Nose stinging. Cough. Choke. Cough. Choke. Tell the husband I love him. Cough. My last moments suck thanks to that rejection, Agent who knows who I'm talking about. Cough. Sputter. Dead.


  1. Wendy; I would have stopped you but I know nothing about self-cleaning ovens, having only recently come into an oven of my own for the first time!

    Don't let go! Focus on pie to pull you through!

  2. Here's the long version:

    (Diana sees Wendy, passed out on the floor).
    "Oh crap." She rushes down to the floor and pulls out her CPR reference card. "Oh crap oh crap, I should have paid more attention to this stupid class. Wendy! Wendy, can you hear me? I'm sorry Wendy, I can't let you die! I'm just too selfish and we barely started our friendship and plus, if I leave you here dead then you won't be able to write more stories because dead people don't write, and well, I'm sorry I forgot to use mouthwash this morning...here goes!" She pinches Wendy's nose and pulls back her lifeless, brilliant head.
    Wendy's eyes flare open just in the nick of time. "What the-- don't! DON'T!"
    "You're alive!"
    Wendy scooches far from Diana and grabs a nearby spatula. "Don't you know a dramatic death scene when you see one? Go back to your own blog, you blog-scene stealer!"
    Diana bum-rushes Wendy with a huge hug. "You're alive!

    And here's the short version:

    Even in the face of a terrible rejection, you managed to make me laugh. See how brilliant you are? Please don't cough and sputter to death, Wendy! *Hugs*

  3. Snort-laughed, Diana. You got my dialogue just right. (Although the bum-rushing makes it awkward. What are you doing? Awkward.) You can scene steal my blog any time.

    My daughter immediately taped off her nose when she got home. Talk about dramatic.

    I could only trick them into coming into the house by promising cupcakes (which I'm having in lieu of pie--since I got held up at the store.) I've got my favorite frosting, so I should pull through. Thanks, L.T.

  4. I'm always awkward, especially in person, therefore the scene is genuine (clapping!) I'm glad I pulled off your dialogue.

    Ahh, the uses a child finds for tape. My daughter would love your daughter.

    I wish I could email you all the extra cake I have here. Since the three kids were sharing a birthday, we felt the only fair thing was for them each to get their own cake. But getting three reasonable-sized cakes was actually more expensive than getting three half-sheets at Costco, so we are now enjoying the equivalent of one half-sheet of leftover cake.

  5. I've needed to clean my oven for months. Now I think I'll just wait until next summer :)

  6. Great minds think alike- I just cleaned my oven this weekend because I had a feeling it was going to snow soon and that nixes the windows. And it snowed today. Blecch.

    And don't get too bummed by the rejections! (Says the girl who won't be querying for another two months.) Remember, it only takes one agent to read your work and fall in love with it!

  7. I can't sleep. I really don't handle rejection well most of the time, but some portions of my month are worse than others. OCD can be very hormonally-linked. So, tonight I would have been depressed for no reason anyway, so it sucks to have a reason. Plus, I go through writer's block hard once a month. That would be the next twenty-four hours for me. So, I just took a sleeping pill so I'm not up until five a.m. I really hope I can get up in the morning.

    Bah! OCD can suck at times.

    Luckily, I had cupcakes.

  8. I can't handle rejection either and definitely when I've tipped the scale another three pounds or are wearing big sweats and pony tail, because I will begin ugly cry and will look in the mirror on the way to splashing with cold water. But still I do it. I immediately open the letter, email, and cry, then nap, then write angry curse scene until I feel better. Need to balance with jaunty run, too.
    Thanks for the laugh! Great site!

  9. I'm afraid to clean my oven. My old one didn't have self
    cleaning. My new one does, but I'm not sure how it works. Do you still use oven cleaner? I know this sounds really dumb.

    Sorry about your disappointment - glad you had cupcakes.

  10. Ah Wendy, I'm sorry you haven't received your good news, yet, but I am glad you had cupcakes to help begin the healing.

    I do not handle rejection very well either. I haven't sent any of my fictional babies out into the cruel world yet, but I'm trying to steel myself in preparation for those inevitable rejections. But I fear no amount of planned acceptance will withstand the buffeting of those first rejections.

    I hope today is better for you.