It’s the karaOKIE post

There’s a debate going on over at Fear of Writing on avatars and monikers. Of course I instigated. And of course I sang the post. Yes, there’s a sing-along. Never a dull moment. I’d love your comments over there. And here too. You can sing your comments, if you wish.  

Speaking of cats, there is a kitten that I need. NEED, I tell you. My life won’t be complete until I have it. Someone get it for me. http://healthypets.mercola.com/sites/healthypets/archive/2011/06/10/mini-kitten-pats-things.aspx

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Clothing optional

I once read in a magazine a tip from an author on successful writing. All I remember of her tips is this: Dress for success. Dress like you care. 

I serious

She went on to say she had been writing in her sweats and jammies, not even brushing her hair, looking like something the cat dragged in (so?). Then a friend suggested she clean herself up and take her job seriously and it would reflect in her writing. She did and her writing improved along with her self-esteem.

Okay, I said to me, I’ll put it to the test. I took a shower, blow-dried my hair—styled it, even—painted my nails, wore slacks and a blouse—bra included—and a pair of low-heeled shoes.

I’ll be the first to attest that this “friend’s” advice is a load of BS. Not only did all that cut into my writing time, but I was extremely uncomfortable, hyper-focusing on my bra and shoes and not on writing. The wispy feather-strands of my hair were tickling my face, my arms were restricted in the long sleeves of my blouse, my slacks were digging into my gut, and the smell of nail lacquer was making me sick.

This friend was no friend, and this author was crazy. I mean, who does that???? (If you do, confess right here. I won’t bite. To each his/her own, right? Whatever works for you is cool with me. Nothing wrong with that. *OTHER THAN IT’S WRONG!! *the author of this post is kidding and is not passing judgment on your writing attire.)

So head on over to wordsxo, where you’ll find me, trendsetter that I am, exposed in my professional writing garb.  There, you’ll be treated to what not to wear when writing. Since she’ll be asking you what’s the most bizarre outfit you’ve ever written in, I’ll conclude by asking something more personal: What are you wearing right now? (sounds kinky)

Also, you’ll notice that Milli (check out her blog on pjs) refers to my old Twitter name of IQOkie. It is now under my regular name of Tricia_Sutton. She is aware of it but in denial. She loves the old name and followed me because of it. I side with Milli, but I took advice from a social media expert (much like the “friend” mentioned above) and changed it to my name. Tell me, should I change it back or keep my name?

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I Tweeted. Hear me roar

Twitter fail. The beginning.

In case anyone’s keeping score of my Tweets, you might be surprised to know I’m up to two actual interaction-type Tweets. That’s right, I learned to talk to you and not at you.

I’ve been on Twitter almost two years now and only recently learned how to A. add a Tweet button on my blog, B. Tweet my own posts, and C. ReTweet others’ posts.

It took me nearly two years to accumulate thirty Tweets, but I was beginning to feel like an infomercial: advertise, advertise, advertise. I’m sure there’s somewhere in the Twitter etiquette rule book that forbids this kind of impersonal behavior, and while I’m likely not the only Twit abuser out there, I’m sure there’s a special Twitter hell waiting just for me.

But I plead ignorance (that’s my excuse for everything and it usually works if the listener is in person and can see my dorky innocent face. 

So my friend Linda—who has seen this clueless face in person and is under the spell that compels her to assist me in my endeavors or who wants to hit me but is the type to act opposite of her feelings—has been giving me pointers on how to Tweet.

But, I whine, it’s too hard. I don’t understand it.        

I haven’t tried is what it is. I haven’t observed the mysterious world of Twitter enough to make a valid claim of it’s too hard. That would be akin to my saying a movie is “too hard to follow” without actually watching it.

But still, I can’t be trusted. I had to make myself accountable. So on Thursday, Jan. 20^th I announced to Linda that I would interact on Twitter by Feb. 1^st.

I also made a personal goal to dust off my WIP and begin revisions by the first. And I also had some submissions due by the first. And some other writing obligations as well as non-writing obligations and needless to say, I got a stress rash. Last night, on Jan 31, I began to stress over it all and broke out on my face and neck with a horrendously red and itchy rash.

This morning I rushed—itching all the way—to the computer in hopes of redeeming myself by writing a personal Tweet and I did and lo and behold the Twitter world that had been waiting with bated breath for me to come out of my shell said: “Sorry, you’re Tweet was not sent. There may be technical problems. Try again in a few minutes.” itch scratch itch

When I pulled myself together 3 hours later, I tweeted Linda. But my Tweet went only to Linda and to Linda only. So this I say to you: “I said it would be personal, didn’t I? I never claimed I would do it correctly, so there.”

P.S. My twitter name is IQOkie, which I should change to IQNuthun. It’s not meant to offend Okies, though I did once. Read on… The real story behind the name is particularly damning to my upstanding reputation, but I do that every day so I’ll give you the shortened version.

I worked in an office with a girl whose license plate said 1QOkie. One day I said to her. “I just love your license plate. I’m from Oklahoma too, and I think it’s just totally funny. I bet you get a lot of weird stares.” (I was getting one of those stares from her right then.)

Since this is the shortened version, let’s just say she straightened me out. The first digit in the license was a “one” not an “I”. It stood for One Cute Okie. My nickname around the office became “I”QOkie. I deserve it.

Now excuse me while I crawl in my hole again.

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