My Psychopathic Tendencies

Well, we're back from Dallas, and both intact in our opposite corners of the country. Skye managed to survive my raving psychopathicness regarding conference with grace and aplomb. (I'm not really sure what aplomb is but it's a cool word and I'm pretty sure she has it.)

As it turns out, my raving psychopathicness actually paid off. I went to all my psychopathically planned workshops and learned a whole bunch about the topic I went to conference this year to learn about: characterization. By far the best workshop I took was Marliss Melton's workshop on using the Myers-Briggs personality test to profile and match your hero and heroine. It was a BIG lightbulb moment.

But I got curious and wondered where I myself would fall on the Myers-Briggs scale, so I went and took the test. Apparently I am an ISFJ (Introverted Sensing Feeling Judger), otherwise known as a Protector Guardian. And, lo and behold, it explains my psychopathic tendencies regarding filling every minute of conference with useful stuff. See that J at the end that makes me a Judger? That means I like to plan stuff. I like to have the decision made, and then stick to it. It's not my fault, it's my personality's fault.

Other stuff about me, according to my ISFJ status, that will make Skye laugh because it's so true:

And although they're hurt by being treated like doormats, they are often unwilling to toot their own horns about their accomplishments because they feel that although they deserve more credit than they're getting, it's somehow wrong to want any sort of reward for doing work (which is supposed to be a virtue in itself).

Poor Skye has heard me whine about my day job often enough to groan, "dear god, so true."

They are capable of forming strong loyalties, but these are personal rather than institutional loyalties; if someone they've bonded with in this way leaves the company, the ISFJ will leave with them, if given the option.

Ooh, again with doing that exact thing in my day job.

They are usually as concerned with being "nice" as with strict propriety.

This trait makes me an endless target for Skye's mockery. Luckily, I don't feel the need to be "nice" to her.

They are often unable to either hide or articulate any distress they may be feeling.

So Saturday night I was wandering aimlessly around our hotel room going, "I don't want to pack. I don't want to go home. I don't want a day job. Life sucks. I feel like crap." Wisely, she saw through my inability to ACCURATELY articulate my distress and recommended rum and sleep, which in fact cured most of the yuckies.

This childlike Ne is the likely source (coupled with fun-loving Extraverted Feeling) of the practical joking, punning and (usually harmless) impishness of some ISFJs.

Impish is such a good word.

So what are you? Go take the test. Come on, don't pretend like you don't have an hour or two to kill gazing at your naval.

Skye says we're supposed to give away books as prizes since we both brought home a buttload of books from conference, so if you go take the test and tell me what type you are, you're in the running for a copy of Bite Me If You Can by Lindsay Sands.

Dallas, Baby, Dallas!

Okay, so it doesn't have quite the same ring to it as Vegas, but whatever. I'm headed there. So is Sonja, but this post is about me. All me. Yeah, baby.

I so thoroughly enjoyed Dallas on my way through the last time that this time I'm going to stay. On purpose, that is. Still, my previous layover not withstanding, this should be a fun trip. Assuming of course, that I don't kill Sonja.

For those of you who don't know Sonja, let me just tell you. She's a great girl. And wonderful. And my bestest buddy. Who else would I share a room with at the RWA National Conference? However, is, in a word, a bit... enthusiastic, is how i shall put it.

For those you who don't know me, I'm laid back. Relaxed. Don't get worked up about much. Very calm. (Sometimes in a hyperactive way). But I'm not a raving psychopath about planning out every minute of my day.

Not that Sonja is, either. At least, not normally. But she is showing raving tendencies when discussing the conference. When you see her list of things she hasn't done, that doesn't include the 12 million that she HAS done. :) I'm more of the "Oh, right, I'm going to conference. Cool." type than "Oh my god, I must plan and pack and prepare ahead of time! Eeek. More p words. Pitch!!" Pitching doesn't scare me. Because, frankly, if i can't get excited about my book and tell someone all about how wonderful it is, then they probably aren't going to want to read it in the first place. But I digress. Since I love her dearly I'm willing to sacrifice my peace and quiet in a hotel room for a roommate that is constantly pestering me to get out and hang out at the bar and network.

And people think I'm the extrovert of the two of us.

Still, dragging me out of my shell is probably for the best. I mean, after all, that enthusiasm and drive is probably why Sonja is PUBLISHED and I'm not. So i guess you'll see me at the bar. And maybe in rehab later. Even so, darn it all, it's going to be a good conference! See you in Dallas!

8 Billion Things I Need to Do Before Conference

1. Edit Lying Eyes into some semblance of a decent novel. I'm told it needs more Bad Guy and less fainting. The heroine tends to get light-headed with her new found psychic powers, and the literal fade to black-- or passing out-- is one of my favorite cliff-hanger endings. I may have gone a little overboard with it. (Do you hear that noise? That's the sound of Skye violently rolling her eyes. Or it might be the sound of her wailing, "God! She fainted again! Check her blood pressure or something."

2. Edit the Lying Eyes pitch for more power. I may need to make it longer. Editors tend to let you get through your whole spiel before interrupting to ask you questions about motivation and stuff (unlike agents, grr), and right now my spiel is only about 30 seconds long. That leaves a lot of time for the editor to come up with awkward are-we-done-yet questions for me, or answer her cell phone and then request my manuscript out of guilt for answering her cell phone during my pitch. The latter I'm kind of ok with, but I don't like awkward are-we-done-yet questions.

3. Track down the "Love In Shadow" cards that are supposed to be coming from Vista Print. They are stupendously cool and I got an excellent deal on them and I really want them in time to take them with me. The order supposedly shipped on June 27 but I don't have it yet. Eek!

4. Finish my Wild Rose corsage for the welcome reception. We dorky Wild Rose authors decided that we shall find each other by the corsages we'll wear to the welcome reception, in the colors of our lines. Since I'm published at Faery Rose and almost published at Black Rose, my corsage has a black rose (shut up, I'm tacky and proud of it) and two little lavender roses. I still need ribbon though. Must have ribbon.

5. Make an itinerary. Yes I know that the workshop schedule has the potential to change and that I should wait until I get there, but I live in mortal fear that when I get there I'll be too busy and then I'll forget and then it will be like the first day of school my freshman year of high school and I won't have my schedule and I won't know where to go and the bell will ring and I'll be standing all alone in the deserted hallway, just spinning in forlorn circles, wondering which direction to go.

6. Do something with my hair. I haven't decided what yet. On the one hand, I could cough up some cash and get a nice haircut. On the other hand, I could cough up some cash and get a nice dye job. I refuse to cough up for both. But I did buy a box of black hair dye. I'm debating whether being remembered as the goth girl is actually better than not being remembered at all. The jury is still out.

7. Lose 40 pounds. Ha, just kidding. Lose 20 pounds. Well, I'm not kidding about that, but it's not going to happen anyway, so I'd best forget that one.

8. Decide what I'm wearing. I can't just pack the same stuff I packed last year because, um, you know that 20 pounds I was supposed to lose? That would have been so I could fit into the clothes I wore last year. So I'm going with fewer suits this year (since, um, they're kind of not fitting) and more stretchy Size-12-Is-Not-Fat (yay Meg Cabot!) pants and some nice tops. I might need to purchase a few more tops. Darn, I just hate having an excuse to buy pretty tops... and matching pumps... and earrings... and hair clips...

See you in Dallas!

Even worse...

Not only is it super tragic that Sonja and I are going to be ripped asunder (good word, right?) but something else has happened to make our separation even more depressing. I have this super lame eyeball problem (for the details, see my blog) that means that after June 8, I'm not allowed to read or use my computer for 3 WEEKS! Eeek!

How do people deal without email? More importantly, how am i supposed to keep in touch with my now long distance bestest buddy if i can't even use the computer. We briefly considered using the phone but discarded that quickly enough.

I'm paraphrasing:

me: I can't email or read for 3 weeks
Sonja: haha cuz your eyeball would pop
me: thanks, you're so supportive
Sonja: Well how the hell am I supposed to keep in touch with you until RWA if you can't read? God, I guess I'm going to have to CALL you.

silence falls upon both keyboards for almost 10 seconds

both of us: Never mind
me: I'll just see you at the conference then.
Sonja: Good idea.

See? We may be bestest buddies, but we're not crazy or anything.

The reality is that Sonja's just jealous that i get to be a pirate and live the dream. I mean, who doesn't want to wear an eyepatch?

Gar!

English Major Attempts Math, Fries Brain

Of the 24 hours in a typical day, I spend:

* 7 sleeping
* 1 making myself presentable after sleeping
* 8 working (seriously-- only like 1 of that is staring blankly at the wall or surfing blogs)
* 2 eating
* 1 commuting
* 1 watching TV, and that's if I'm being good and only indulging in like ONE episode of Grey's Anatomy instead of the 2-hour long spin-off crap where Addison finds out she's shriveled up and old and Meredith FINALLY gets someone to slap her for being such a little whiny biat-- oh, what was I saying? Right. 1 if I'm being good.
* 1 working out
* 1 doing dishes/laundry/yard work/making PB&J for supper (because I'm that awesome of a wife)
*1/2 at the tanning bed-- Yeah, I'm shallow. But at least I'm not ghostly white and shallow.

If you're playing along at home, that leaves me an hour and a half every day to get done everything else: reading books and blogs, balancing my checking account, shopping for graduation presents, nagging my husband to pick out a mother's day present for his mom, whining about my sunburned butt, whining about the 1 hour of working out, putting all my new CDs on my iPod, petting the dog, pooping, reading Skye's voluminous output of verbiage (which is really really awesome, by the way, and nyeh nyeh I get to read it before anyone else and then say someday, "I was Skye Forbes's critique partner before she was totally famous") and offering thought-provoking yet kind critiques... oh yeah, and writing.

Something's gotta give.

I'm willing to drop a few hours of day-job work. Somehow I don't think my boss would agree to that though.

I'm #2 (or My Cole Slaw is Crap)

I'm #2... Wait. Well, you know what I mean. I'm #2 on the Current Bestsellers list at The Wild Rose Press. Not, you know, number two.

I took a moment this morning to pause for an "eeee" when I saw that. But now it's back to business. This weekend I am hosting a birthday party for my mother-in-law, helping my parents move, and attending a Hamfest. Sometime in there, maybe I will be able to breathe once or twice. Before 6 pm I must:

Find a birthday present. (I know. I'm the worst daughter-in-law ever for not finding a birthday present yet.)
Make delicious cole slaw. (More difficult than you might think because, well, it's cole slaw and inherently non-delicious.)
Make delicious hamburger patties.
Come up with an appetizer because, silly me, I bought all my groceries yesterday but forgot the essential appetizer.
Attempt to take the cling wrap off the cupcakes without squashing the frosting more than it has already been squashed by my cupcake-challenged covering job of yesterday.
Clean the patio furniture. (Yes, it rained yesterday, but I promise everything will be covered in a thick layer of green nastiness before 6 pm.)

I'm tired already.

But, on the plus side, Skye, friend of wonder, has offered to help move stuff on Saturday. She is awesome like that. Think she'd make some cole slaw for me too if I asked pretty?