Monday, January 25, 2016

The Truths I Tell Myself

After last week with my lying, I figured I would search out the truth. This is what I came up with.

I'm a good writer. 

Yup. I am. A good writer. I'm not great, fabulous, Hemingway. I do have occasional moments of brilliance, or humor, or humanity depending on what you may be reading. My stories have been known to move women to tears. Men have said my male characters are realistic. I feel competent in my writing skills.

I'm better than I used to be. However, I would like to be really good. And I will. Eventually. Practice makes almost perfect.

I'm a good parent.

I am. Monster thinks I'm off the wall most of the time. Her friends think I'm wicked funny, she thinks I'm lame. Go figure. But I think she's a good kid, and I hope she thinks I'm a good mom. I try my hardest. I'm better than I used to be. However, I could be better.

I love my job. (Even the one where I don't get paid.)

I cannot tell you how much I love my job as a writer. Even on the most blinding frustrating maddening days, I love my job. I cannot imagine doing anything else. Making up stories is like living on the beach. Every day is a new adventure.

I even love the volunteer work I do at Monster's school. If I ever went back to work in the real world, it's going to look damn good on my resume.

I'm a good friend.

At least I think so. I hope so. My friend Debbie gave me a little plaque that reads You're The Friend That Everybody Wishes They Had  Isn't that sweet? Sometimes I'm a little too blunt and I say things I probably shouldn't, but I try not to hurt anyone's feelings. I'm just opinionated. And loud and bossy, and the girl your mother would never let you hang out with. But I'm also kind, and generous, and pretty damn funny once you get to know me.

So, those are my truths. Got any you want to share?

Anne Gallagher (c) 2016

Monday, January 4, 2016

The Lies I Tell Myself

I don't lie. I learned a long time ago that I always get caught. Besides, the truth is so much easier. That way I don't have to remember what I said. The caveat with that is -- I don't lie to other people. Lying to myself? That's a whole other ball game.

I took a look at this last year, what I accomplished, what I didn't, and instead of New Year's Resolutions, which I never make, decided to review my faults (as pertains to my writing life -- if I wrote down ALL my faults this blog would become a novel.)


I will write engaging, interesting content. I will post every week. I will keep up with the comments, and do my part to get around to all my friends. I will find new people to follow. I will leave thoughtful comments wherever I go.

Epic fail. I looked back on what I wrote this last year and it was a rambling, chaotic mess. I barely acknowledged my own comments never mind, getting to my friends' blogs. As for posting every week, I'm lucky I posed once a month, and even then, not so much.


I haven't read a book in almost five years. I used to read a book a day when I wasn't writing--when I lived in the real world. Now that I'm writing, all my free time goes toward my stories. I received two books for Christmas--do we want to take bets on how long it will take me to read them? Or should I say--open them? I'll put $10 on July.


With the last novel I published, I had a marketing plan in place for several months. I talked it over with a very good friend who actually does that for a living. She thought my plan was good, and gave me some ideas to make it better. When the book came out, I implemented all the ideas. Did it work? Hell to the no. Why not, you may ask. Because I'm still marketing like it's 1999. I need to get into the 21st century, but it's hard considering I'm a fossil who still thinks just publishing a book will make it sell.


I drop Monster off at 7:30 every morning. It's a half hour commute, I'm home by 8, at the computer by 8:15. I write until 12, make lunch, then edit what I wrote until 2:15. I pick Monster up, make her food, help with homework, make dinner (the kid is always hungry) clean up the kitchen, then return to the office to tackle where I left off, in bed by 9:00.

Does this happen? Never. I blame it on my volunteer position at Monster's school. I've always been the "yes man". If they can't find someone to help, they just ask me. Because they know I'll do it. And then what happens is, after being at school all day, I'm so exhausted, I can't get up the energy to even sit down at the computer, never mind find a coherent thought.


See above. I started three stories in June. I finished one in July. I had 25k on the second one by Aug 1. We went back to school August 28. It took me three and a half months to finish that book. It should have been finished by the end of Aug, edited and revised in September, published in October. As it was, I didn't finish it until two days before Thanksgiving and barely had it revised for Christmas. Now, I'm working on that third book.


Friends keep telling me to get on Instagram, Wattpad, Face Book. I can't even keep up with my blog, never mind Twitter. I still haven't figured out how to link my blog with my LinkedIn account. I just finally updated my Pinterest boards. I used to keep Monday as my "social media" day. I don't know what happened. (School is what happened.)


Until the principal, a kindly old nun, looks at me with the "face" and says please. How can I say no? It should be simple. I say no to Monster all the time. I say no to other people. Why is it so hard? Probably the Catholic guilt. I'm afraid I'll burn in hell if I refuse. (This one I promise I'm working on.)


When was the last time I did anything for myself? I can't tell you. If I'm not at school, I'm working on a book. When I'm working on a book all hell breaks loose in the housework department, so when I'm finished with the book, it takes me a week to straighten out the mess. By then I'm ready to start work on the next book. It's a vicious cycle. I keep telling myself as soon as I get the money I'm going to the beach. Of course, if I wrote my books in a timely manner, published and marketed them so they sold well, I would have the money to go to the beach.

So that's my list. What do you think? Tell me-- Is there anything you lie to yourself about?

Anne Gallagher (c) 2016