And I was reading one of those articles with a title like "Five Things That Make Me an Uber Successful Writer and You a Complete Tofu-Head", feeling all superior because I was pretty sure I was doing all the same things this article writer dude was doing - if you swapped out "drink coffee first thing in the morning" for "eat one pound of peanut butter M&Ms per thousand words" - which placed me firmly in the 'Uber' club, and hacks like JK Rowling and Leo Tolstoy in the 'Tofu' club.
And then Mr. Uber said, "Any word written on your blog is a word not written in your novel."
At which point, I sorta freaked, and accidentally ate the whole pound of M&Ms without even turning on my computer. Because I've written oodles and oodles of blog posts, and almost every one of them used, like, TONS of words!
"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, because I've been practicing my creative dialoguing skills. "There probably aren't even any words left for my novel! I'm going to have to start noveling in one of those made up languages like Esperanto or French or something!"
Needless to say, I was most chagrined ... no, wait, I've already used chagrined. OK, I was most distressed ... nope, used that one, too. Fine. I was most malheureux. Happy now, Mr. Uber Writer Guy?
Anyway, that's why I'm blogging less. I miss all of you, my bloggy pals. But apparently I'm on a word diet, and we all know how well the words "I" and "diet" get along, unless "diet" brings his pal "Coke" and we make it an innocent, happy threesome.
I did have something of a breakthrough today, in that I now have a plot line for my little murder mystery that may actually keep readers in suspense all the way through Chapter Two. So that's good news! I mean, ood-gay ews-nay. Dang, this whole word budget thing is tough.
But I did want to mention the other thing that has been going on besides the fact that Agatha Christie is considering an early resurrection just to hand her (kinda grody) crown over to yours truly.
My mother and sisters and sister-in-law and daughters and nieces enjoyed our annual Girls' Weekend. You may remember our last Girls' Weekend, in which Amber demonstrated her brilliant waitressing skills by waxing off all of our facial hair. This year we were delighted to see her display of "How Thirty-Four Year Olds Don't Go Pee-Pee Cuz They're Big Girls Now", the photographic evidence of which is seen below.
The reason Amber is having to 'contain' herself is that Jill and Kim snuck out, put on scary wrestling masks, and then knocked on the door. Amber, being the youngest, was obliged to give up her comfy spot on the couch to answer the door, and therefore absorbed the full blast of our wicked sisters' diabolical stunt.
But she coped well. Only screamed for 45 minutes straight.
We had a great time, like always. Even when it turned out that the National Parks' Service has no sense of humor when it comes to posting digital signs that read "Road Closure: Monday - Friday, 8:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. Seriously. We mean it. You leave Zion's National Park at 7:59 on a Friday night, and you'll be buying yourselves a loooooong drive back around to the opposite entrance where your cabin is located. Don't even ask if we're kidding. We're totally not. This is a recording. Idiots."
Wait. 'Road Closed' means 'Road Closed'?? Since when??
But as far as we're concerned, you can't drive from Springdale, Utah to Cedar City, Utah - via Guatemala - often enough. So it was win-win.
We did the eating and gabbing and - did I say 'eating' already? - thing, and generally just hung out and enjoyed a beautiful weekend together.
The sisters: DeNae (that's me), Amber, Kim, and Jill
The whole hee-haw gang, minus one sil, who'd better get her kiester out to GW 2011
Anyway, that's the update. I had more to tell you, about this cool poem I read and this personality quiz I took that didn't make an ounce of sense (it was one of those magazine tests that says stuff like "You prefer calendars with numbers on them. People wearing red are drawn to your leadership abilities but are put off by your creepy squint. Don't marry a banana." So, yeah, I'm totally self-aware now.)
Unfortunately, all those stories will have to wait. I just checked the meter, and I'm plum out of wor--