But That is Real Life, Honey -or- Stop Your Whining, Valedictorian

You don't see successful clip artist
Philip Martin whining about his education.

It is the end of the school year here in Australia and I've got a young graduate. Yay. She's done well and aims to keep doing well in the continuation of her education.

Recently I saw a few links to valedictorian speeches come through one of my social media scrolls. Every once in a while you find a brilliant speech (wear sunscreen). However, most tend to be the usual inspirational claptrap full of cliches and then there's the requisite "trying to be different but really just venting" angry ones.

One particular speech caught my attention. It was one of the latter. In this valid-dictator-ial speech  (which I will not be linking to because she doesn't need the additional audience), she whined about the fact that the only reason she was valedictorian was because she got really good at completing assignments and taking tests. She said she didn't get a real education but merely learned how to play the system.

Guess what, honey, you did get an education! You got a brilliant preparation for what the 99% call "The Real World". (Granted, you are from the American Empire, who failed to upgrade their educational and medical systems sufficiently during their evolution, and that does give you a disadvantage compared to the rest of the First World. Heck, it might give you a disadvantage compared to certain parts of the Third World.)

But yeah. Real Life in the Adult World is all about playing the system. I don't know what sort of job/career you were planning on, but I can guarantee you pretty much all of them involve completing assignments (ie meeting sales targets, adhering to guidelines, upholding service catalogues, quality control, etc) and taking tests (delivering a satisfactory product and/or service).

It doesn't matter what field you're in. Accountant?  Better get your maths correct. Fast food worker? Better meet quality control targets. Ballet dancer? Precision and focus are mandatory. Scientist? Professional development is an ongoing thing. Secretary? Speed and accuracy. Attorney? Research and fact memorisation. Author? Self-starter skills and long hours of repetitive tasks.

Whatever it was you were thinking you failed to learn in your mastery of assignments and test-taking, that sort of stuff doesn't come along until after you've gained practical experience in the entry levels. Creative Consultants, Decision Makers, CEOs... none of this stuff will come to you for at least another twenty years. Stop worrying that you're not ready now.

So if you were looking for something that would "tap into your potential" because "we can do anything we want" and "the sky's the limit" and all the other cliches with which your valedictory speeches are rife, you're in for a dreadful surprise.  There is absolutely no difference between your teacher telling you "Your fifteen questions on page 87 are due on Monday" and your manager telling you "I need this spreadsheet analysis done by Monday."

The only two differences you will find between an education and a day job is this:  When you do your job well (ie complete your assignments and get a good grade), you get paid. When you  don't do your job well (ie keep failing your tests), there's a good chance you can get fired.

Welcome to the Real Life in the Adult World, padowan. Let's see if you can keep up with the big dogs.  Oh, and I need that spreadsheet analysis done by Monday.

________________________
Her Grace, who has a BA in Music and Film from the UofU, a CertGr6  in Piano from AMEB, an MFA in Creative Writing and a PhD in OB-GYN from SoHK and soon to have a MSc in Astronomy from SwinU.  All this wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the support of a Day Job full of assignments and tests.

Epiphany -or- "How bad do you want it"

Several weeks ago I had an epiphany. Glad I did.* My epiphany was this: how bad did I want to be a writer?

It is a question every writer, from the “I’d like to write a novel someday” aspirant to Mary Falkner, needs to ask herself.

How bad? How really, really bad, do you want it?

My answer: really, really bad.

The second question: So, what’s stopping you?

Don’t think this answer is a cop-out, or someone calling you on your lack of faith. It is an honest-to-good introspection. If you are not writing prolifically every day, why not? What stops you from sitting down and cranking out draft until you pass out from sheer exhaustion?

Well, the need for sleep, for one. Young children who need their mom. The need to eat, the day job to pay the bills, other necessary obligations (dishes? Nah). There will always be things in your life that will be more important than writing.

But what about the Internet? Is it more important than your writing? How about games? Television? What little time-wasters are you indulging in when you could be writing?

Next question: Why are you letting these time-wasters get in the way of your writing? Don’t let this question fool you. It’s not saying, “get off your lazy butt and write!” It’s asking for the reasons behind why you chose to watch television, or play Angry Birds or Facebook instead of writing.

Why was your desire to catch up on “2 Broke Girls” more enticing than finishing a scene? Whatever the reason, perhaps it’s something you must address. Did you choose to flop in front of the television because you were tired? Once in a while is okay. All the time is not. Examine your logic. (See question #1. How bad do you want to write? If you answered truly with “really, really bad”, your soul will find the energy from somewhere, somehow, to write. Only when you fall asleep on your keyboard, or your spousal unit demands you retire to bed, should you acknowledge your tiredness (as in, “Where did that yawn come from?”).)

Want it bad enough? It will drive you. Drive you forward, drive to completion, drive you to another plane of existence, drive you spare, to distraction, to go mad.

But you will always come back to it, because if you want it truly, madly, deeply, you cannot help but come back. You can’t not write.

Maybe writing is not as important as you want it to be. That’s okay. But do be honest with yourself. If you don’t want it so bad your eyeballs turn yellow, accept that, and be content with being a weekend writer and the occasional published short story. There is nothing wrong with that.

Unless you really want it so bad, dominatrices send you their cards. If so, acknowledge just how important it is and give in to your highest dream.

*Epiphanies are always straightforward and direct. But you can’t rush ‘em. This irks me. Five minutes ago, I was wondering, “Why didn’t this epiphany come five years ago, when I really needed it, or even ten years ago? They come when they are ready to come, and when you are ready for them. It’s some sort of juxtaposition of synergy thing. What I am doing now, I wanted to do five/ten/twenty years ago. But I didn’t. I’m still not sure why, but I wasn’t ready. I wish I was. Imagine all the mighty things I could have accomplished! But I got it now, and I acted upon it right away. I berate myself for letting me be so stupid and lazy and not believing in my dream enough. But then sometimes I need to learn the hard way. This time, I’m hoping to stick to my guns. I’m going to tap into that bit of me deep down that really REALLY wants this. I’m going to be bold. I’m not going to shirk. __________________________________________
Her Grace has cranked out thirty thousand words since the epiphany nearly three weeks ago, despite the day job, her family and church callings. As a result, her Facebook page is sparse, her TV recordings are piling up and Their Ladyships are learning independence immersion-style. She’ll be looking for a few good beta-readers soon.

A Writer's Day

The Dream

1. Wake up early and go to gym. Exercise contributes to the creative process.
   
2. Lovely little breakfast.
   
3. Spend morning on new writing. Three, four thousand words, possibly more.
   
4. Lunch, when you feel like it, what you want, and take a whole hour if you choose.
   
5. Spend afternoon editing, going over galleys, workshopping, doing writing-related business, (drafting synops, writing queries, answering your agent/editor/copyed's questions, etc).
   
6. Finish for the afternoon and go do what you want (Play with the kids, go out with friends, chill)
   
7. Enjoy a nice dinner.
   
8. Read.
   
9. Do whatever you want for the evening.
   
10. Get a good night's sleep. The subconscious does its best work when you're asleep.
    

The Reality

1. Wake up early (groan) and go to the gym. It's the only time you have for exercise. Listen to fiction podcasts on headset while pounding treadmill.
   
2. Sneak in 200 words.
   
3. Get kids ready for school. Forget breakfast, maybe.
   
4. Work the Day Job, wish you were writing.
   
5. Scrawl furiously during the half-hour lunch break. Don't forget to eat (assuming you remembered to pack a lunch.)
   
6. Work Day Job some more. Maybe dash off an idea or two on your blotter.
   
7. Pick kids up from school, run them about to sport, music lessons, etc. Snag 50 words here and there while in the car waiting for them.
   
8. Family dinner. Spend quality time with family, so they'll leave you alone later.
   
9. Spend time with spousal unit. Recognise the importance of a supportive spouse.
   
10. Put kids to bed, hand spouse TV remote, retreat to computer.
    
11. Work at writing, wish you were being paid. Send off some queries, sub some shorts, dream about the weekend when everyone will be off at sports and you can write in peace.
    
12. Get to bed way too late to read.
    

An explanation for loff.

I sometimes have people ask me why I'm so devoted to Richard Armitage.

"What is it about that obscure British actor?" they wonder. "Why don't you lust after Brad Pitt instead?"

Good question. Apparently he's one of the sexiest men alive. But I don't like him.

Sure, he's easy on the eyes (if you like blondes), but a man, a really appealing man, must be more than just a face.

I confess I don't like Brad Pitt because of his dubious behaviour concerning his past and present relationships. We don't know the details of why he and wife Jennifer Aniston divorced, but there are enough unanswered questions and boundless rumours going about that makes me believe it was not a clean split. Then there were the questions about exactly when Angelina Jolie came into the picture. Again, we don't know all the facts, but there's enough shady areas that fuel doubts.

One thing we know for sure: he and Angelina are living in sin. The rest of the world may be okay with that, but I'm not.

"Okay then," people say to me, "What about George Clooney? He's Hot-onna-Stick and dipped in chocolate besides."

Yes, Miss Snark, he is another pretty face. But again, it's the man behind the mask that really matters to me.

George's a player. Having been married once, he's vowed to never get married again, nor to have children. For this little black swan who was raised on a steady diet of HEA romances, that's a bit of a turn-off. George also admits, "I've slept with too many women, I've done too many drugs, and I've been to too many parties." Too bad, George. What will things be like in your dotage? How will you spend your twilight years? Not everyone can be Hugh Hefner. Not even you.

Remind me again how we like our Our Heroes? Yes, we like them handsome. We like them rogueish, dashing, passionate, intelligent and alpha male.

And then we like them to fall in love, and their love and devotion to Our Heroine surpasses all. Nothing is more valuable than the woman they love. Nothing, not life, not darkness, nor the bad guy or even death, will shake his devotion.

Sorry, Brad and George. It's a shame you've fallen short of the mark. I guess we can't have everything.

So back to Richard.

He may not be as famous as Brad or George, but that's all right by me. He's smart and he's funny. He's gracious to his fans (collectively known as either the Armitage Army, or the RAF--Richard Armitage's Fans), and always has a kind word for them whenever he runs into them. He writes thank-you notes and keeps in regular touch (well, regular for a guy). You never hear a bad thing about him.

No, he's not married. Never has been (oh, menace to society!). Some may see this as a failing, but we'll give him a few more years before we call him on it. After all, scores of Romantic Heroes in historical romances make it to their thirties before losing their bachelorhood.

On the other hand, one must also take into account that he does not have a bitter ex-wife, nor a bevy of ex-girlfriends. He doesn't play around and get caught up in the gossip mills. He wants to have children (awww...) and dotes on his nephew.

And he is good to his mother.

He's got the goods and the potential to be a great Romantic Hero. We're just hoping Our Heroine comes along real soon now and sweeps him off his feet.

If she doesn't, the first thing I'll do in my widowhood (may that be a long way off) is to sneak up on him in his sleep and screw a ring on his third finger, left hand.

How great is this story?

The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense. - Tom Clancy.

It doesn't get much better than this. Missing British canoeist turns himself into police claiming no memory of the past five years. Wife has since moved to Panama and claimed the life insurance money. She's now failed to rock up to Heathrow (her plane had a brief stopover in Madrid...). Now one of the sons is missing and he's left behind a coded notebook for the girlfriend.

Catch up on it here:

Yet if we wrote a story like this in a novel, people would throw the book against the wall and say "as if!" hahahahah.