Beth Overmyer's Blog: The Blog of Beth Overmyer, page 34

The Doom and Gloom Novel

...is funner than it sounds ;) I just don't want to give away the title, as I'm guarding some of the book's secrets like a dragon. This, however, is a taste of what I'm going on about. Note that this is a FIRST draft--a regular CFD (crappy first draft.) It is one of several works-in-progress. I hope you enjoy!

Inspiration is Everywhere

Inspiration is everywhere.

Sunday night, I went to a restaurant/micro brewery-thing. I didn't go there with the intention of being vigilant for inspiration, but I wasn't closed to the possibility.

The first thing that caught my eye: the place mats/drink menus. Such rich descriptions of the complex flavors of each drink. Made me want to get back to my bartender story. I took the disposable mat home, and will use it for research. Come on, I need to know the difference between malt liquor and a white wine, and I don't really drink. Menu and the web to the rescue!

The next thing to catch my attention were people's body languages. So fun to watch the differences between the men and women at the party (I forgot to mention: it was a party. There I said it.) The women mirrored body language of almost everyone they were talking to...a lot. Mirroring, according to my studies, means your subconscious intent is to please, agree, or flatter...or you're like-minded on something.

The men, however...One was on his phone, texting. Two were talking across from each other, and their body languages were not mirroring. Made me think that the two were internally disagreeing about sports or something (one's arms across chest while the other was gesturing. Licking lips, wanting to speak. Tight smiles.) 'Twas fun to observe and guess. Maybe they were just bored.

And I got a fun idea for my TV series when two friends mirrored each other a little too well. It involves glasses. That's all I"m saying.

Inspiration is everywhere. You just have to be receptive to it.

The Am Writing Board

As you probably (hopefully) know by now, I am mostly on my other blog, The Blog of Beth Overmyer. I'm keeping this Blogger blog because I have quite the backlog. Or whatever you want to call all those posts from the past. And I like you guys.

Anyhoosie, with that out of the way, I thought I'd talk about my Am Writing Board. Behold:

This ^ is an example of my weekday board. I clear it when I get to Friday, and then write in the three days for the weekend.

Why, you ask? Well, it keeps me motivated. I try to post pics of the board on Facebook, no matter how crummy the word count. Accountability, transparency, and all that good stuff.

Well, my goal is to write at least 400 words a day: 200 on the goblets novel, 200 on the new project. And for February, add in the chaos of finishing and revising a literary novel. So that's one high fantasy, one Georgian fantasy, and one literary...all worked on every day next month. It'll be interesting, keeping characters and plotlines straight, but it'll be fun.

I do love a good challenge!

Bye for now!
Bethy

Breaking Radio Silence

Hello and happy New Year! I hope 2016 has been treating you well. If not, we only have 358-ish days left of it to endure.

As for me...Well, I'm here. And I'm not here. The truth is, running two blogs, writing, and social networking is le difficult. Oui. Ouchie.

Not to mention that fact that WordPress is oh so much shinier. (Can I say that here? I mean, I can. I did. But MAY I?)

Writing is...going on. Yup. I am a little off-schedule to meet my goal of 100,000 words by the end of the year, but I still have time ;)

Well, must dash. Lots of things to do before I hit the hay at 5:30 AM. Yes, I am ridiculously tired, but you digress. Lots to do. Like stare at Twitter until I think of something clever to say. Oy vey. Wish me luck, Chuck.

Keep your pen on the page,
Bethy

In a Pickle

What Up?

In case you've missed the memo (and I think everyone here probably has, considering I haven't been advertising it here): I have a new blog: The Blog of Beth Overmyer. Hope I don't get in trouble for linking that here...

Anyhoosie...

A quick catch-up on what's happening:

- Fourteen books read so far this year (I'm six away from goal--huzzah!)

- Twelve writing pieces out on submission (two things twice, so waiting to hear back about fourteen things)

- Camp NaNoWriMo is underway, and I've been a mess throughout most of it so far. My goal is 30,000 words. Not sure if I'll make it!

And that's about it. I posted a video last month, but I remembered that I had posted it elsewhere, and Blogger is very...jealous when it comes to sharing media with other sites. Yikes! Bikes! (Sorry for those who don't get the movie reference.)

So, that's all for now. I micro-blog a lot on Twitter, so feel free to follow me there! (@Bethyo)

Ciao Ciao for now!

Poetry Reading

In case you haven't seen yet, I've done a reading of some poetry that I wrote a few months back. Here it is for your enjoyment:

Whoa! Close-up much? Maybe I'll post the words another time, as my diction isn't the best ;)

Memoir Monday: Skittles and Stage Lights

Taking a break from the bleakness that can be OCD coupled with depression...I'd like to share some of my favorite (and least favorite) theatre stories with you!

THE DIARY OF ANNE FRANK (Sophomore year of high school)

I played...Peter van Daan. What? There weren't enough boys, and I was--well, I was a bit of a tom boy with really short hair, so it worked. I fooled quite a few people, including some I knew. The giveaway that I was, in fact, a girl? When I went to hit my father (Mr. van Daan), I tucked in my thumb. No one had ever taught me how to throw a punch.

THE MIRACLE WORKER (Senior year of high school)

I was the main role in this production (Annie Sullivan), bad Irish accent and all (though, I did fool some people.)

On opening night, the girl playing Helen Keller really beat me up good...and not in the "stage slap" sense.

- First she hit me in the face with a porcelain doll.
- Then she slapped me good and hard (I was so ticked at this point, that I for-real slapped her back.)
- And last, but definitely not least painful, she brained me with a pitcher right before the final scene, where Annie finally gets Helen to understand tactile-signing and speak.

The first two were in the script, the third was not, and gave me a nice lump. I put snow on it after the show and stayed up late, in case I had a concussion.

Did I mention that Helen's hands always smelled like Skittles when she was feeling my face to "see" what my expression was? The actress said she hated them and never ate them. The scent was from her lotion. Weird, right?

THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE (Early twenties)

On my one night on stage, I forgot my lines at one point and had to think through everything I'd said so far in order to get to where I was in the dialogue then. Worst feeling EVER.

45 SECONDS FROM BROADWAY (Early twenties)

I was Megan Woods (the ingenue), fresh off a plane from Ohio (the director told me I had the role by teasing me about whether or not I could brush up on my Ohio accent.)

Yeah, one of my worst performances, since I was too similar to the character. The worst moment? I dropped a fork during a pound cake-eating scene...and I resumed eating with it without thinking. A few audience members actually went "EWWWW!" 45 seconds from Broadway rule? Please?

YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU (Early twenties)

I was the maid, Rheba. I got to act opposite a (very) distant cousin of mine. Not the first time I was opposite a relative...

Last but the very best:

SCAPINO! (Twenties)

I played the Italian waitress (whom I named Romilda.) The chick with attitude. Oh my word! I had so much fun with the entire cast. Such wonderful people, whom I still miss.

And I'm still sorry, Chris and Sean, for slapping you too hard. I never could manage a simple stage-slap (now I know how guilty the Helen Keller actress must've felt!)

The second best part (right after the cast), was getting to yell in fake Italian.

The worst was singing "Irish Eyes" with Scapino himself. I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, despite Donita's assistance. I am still so very sorry, Doug!

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My theatre days are over...probably. But Memoir Mondays are not. Stay tuned for that nasty villain OCD and his henchman, Depression. Will I harness their evil powers for the good of mankind? Stay tuned!

Happy Palindrome Week!

5/11/15 - 5/19/15. Each day is the same backward as it is forward. The name of this phenomenon? The palindrome. Works for sentences and words as well. For example:

"ABLE WAS I ERE I SAW ELBA."
^What Napoleon might've said ;)

DAD is a palindrome. MOM is a palindrome. BOB is a palindrome...which makes me think of Weird Al's song by the same name ("Bob") on his album Poodle Hat. Confession time: I thought Weird Al's song "Bob" was just a bunch of random words strung together to sound funny. Didn't realize they were all palindromes.

"WAS IT A CAR OR A CAT I SAW"
^By far the BEST palindrome in that song.

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Can you think up a palindrome? In honor of this week, I will have dinner for breakfast and supper, and have lunch in between...and eat sandwiches, because if you make them right, they could just be a palindrome....

When I Realized (Memoir Monday)

I first began suspecting I wasn't normal at around age nine. You see, for the life of me, I couldn't get myself to sit in the car without a barrier between me and the seat. I was terrified and I wasn't entirely sure why, but I knew if I sat down without my pillow, something bad would happen to me.

I remember a childhood acquaintance looking into the backseat of our beater, wondering why I was so weird--that's what his expression said. I remember trying to hide the pillow, but he saw it. That was clue one that I wasn't quite like other kids.

I grew out of that stage--for a while--but what came next was baffling to me: I had to do everything at least three times or more, but always in odds. Evens were bad (especially twos and fours, hence the poem I posted last week.) If I failed to do things in odds--such as passing a display at the store--it meant that I wished someone harm and I was a bad person.

After that came the thoughts. I was twelve when they started.

A word to someone who knows nothing about OCD: For some of us with this disorder, intrusive violent thoughts are "normal." We don't act on them. We're TERRIFIED of hurting people, as a rule.

The thoughts had been getting bad around the time of a youth retreat with my church. But during dinner the first night, a friend said something, and all at once the violent thoughts started pounding me. I was so overcome with fear of myself, that I ran outside, crying. A youth leader came out and asked me what was wrong. I told them. They told me it was just Satan wanting me to leave, because I was BEGGING her to take me home so I could be away from everyone. What if my thoughts weren't just thoughts? What if I actually followed through with them? (Remember: this was all before my diagnosis.)

A pause here. Satan was a part of the attack. He fed it. But there was and is something chemically imbalanced in my brain. So if any of this is sounding familiar to you, don't be deceived: you need medical help. From a professional. Don't let this go. I did, and it could've cost me a lot more than it did.

Depression hit me over the head at age thirteen. I was getting dark inside, emotionally. At age seventeen, I finally confided in an adult. He brushed it off: didn't want to hear it, didn't bother talking to my mom.

It wasn't until spring of 2002 that I told my mom that I needed help. But more on that another time.

On an ending note for this post, let me just say that I thankful for all of the helpful people God has put in my life: doctors and a loving mother and a few good friends. Without their help, I'd be--well, you wouldn't be reading this post.

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Thanks for reading this edition of Memoir Monday. I am open to questions and will try to answer them honestly in a timely manner.