I’m number 3! I’m number 3! *Jumps around room, whooping and cheering.*

What? No one chants that? Why would I care to celebrate NOT placing first or even second?

Third is an also ran. Little prize money. Little acclaim. No one remembers third. Still technically a loser.

But therein lies the beauty.

When I began writing (not counting my plays or short stories I wrote in elementary school). I was in junior high. In my bedroom, I knocked out which in today’s standards would be considered a 300-page, Star Wars fan fiction. I did it with a friend and the writing was fun. I didn’t want or need outside validation.

Fast forward a few years and I get on the writer’s career super highway. But instead of taking me quickly to my destination of Publish Land. It’s more like a stretch of endless, highway with nothing but cornfields .

I move along counting miles, I look for signs that I’m getting closer. Any landmark, that tells me that I’m moving.

I enter contest and submit to agents and apply for scholarships. At the beginning of my contest run, I merely got general comments mentioning my grammar or awkward sentences.

Good concept, back execution.

I took classes and polished and tightened and tweaked and submitted to the Rebecca in 2013.

I remember the day I got the email. I expected to see a general: so many great entries this year but you didn’t place note. The congratulation hit me like a right hook to my jaw from a prize fighter. After a few hours, the truth seeped into my bones. I was elated. Third place! In a hotly competitive category in a very prestigious contest. Not first, not second, but respectable.

I felt like I’d finally seen the sign. I may not be in Published Land, but by God I was making progress.

Placing second would have been good, but so close to first, I would have constantly tortured myself. Was it that one comma? A forgotten verb case? Was my story not tight enough?

But third. Third was almost freeing. Oodles better, but no pressure.

Even first, at the time, would have been more hurtful than helpful. With a first place victory, the request would have started, from an agent or editor. At the time, I don’t think my writing could have stood up to the scrutiny. And I would have scrambled and panicked and felt like a fraud.

I believed that somehow my feelings were weird or wrong, but stumbled upon this little article about Olympic bronze medal winners and how they are happier than silver medal winners. http://www.businessinsider.com/why-counterfactual-thinking-may-make-you-more-relieved-to-get-third-place-rather-than-second-2012-8. I felt better, and kept submitting.

Recently, I received third place in a scholarship contest. A pretty big deal contest as well. They liked the concept and the writing, and the scoring was within fractions of points. I’m a bit less satisfied with this win. Which tells me that my time being comfortable with third place is coming to an end.

I want more. I will deal with the jealously of second and the pressure of being first, because I have done the work. I have done the time. I am ready to progress.

And it’s long past time for me to see that beautiful sign: Now entering Published Land.

Have you come in third? Won? How did it make you feel? Comment below.

Just got caught in the vortex that is known as Netflix binge watching during a snow day hiatus. And I gotta say, I’m addicted to The Blacklist. Didn’t expect it either.  I’d heard from multiple sources that it was a great show and I should be watching.  I had reservations. The show had none of my favorite tropes no romantic theme, no science fiction or fantasy, (and let’s be honest) no beefcake male over which to drool.  But I did know I enjoyed James Spader and during a span in the 80’s and 90’s found him to be quite dishy, and he still had that amazing voice.

I sat down expecting to watch the first half of the pilot then move on to the next thing in my queue. I was enchanted.  The power that James Spader as Raymond ‘Red’ Reddington  brings to the screen with his every interaction with Lizzie is the stuff of classic must see TV.

But the more you watch, the more you realize he is definitely not a nice person. Definitely not one of the good guys, at least by traditional standards. He literally wears a black fedora. One of the FBI’s most wanted, he turns himself in as an informant and will only speak with Elizabeth ‘Lizzie’ Keen, a young profiler on her first day at the Bureau. But his presence on the screen is magnetizing.  The way he looks at Lizzie, the way he would do anything to protect her, is as engrossing as any romance. They have an undisclosed connection. And we get a bit of intrigue and spyventure and kick butt female empowerment, so the entire show is like a giant cream puff of goodness. But of all of super cool features, Red hooks me the most.

I enjoy his rhetoric, his storytelling, his loyalty, his irreverence, his self-serving agenda, and that in the end, nothing means more to him than Lizzie’s safety, even his own life.

Why does this character who in most shows or books would be a villain grab the audience by the emotional cajones and does not let go?

I have found characters like him almost always attract me emotionally. Antiheroes like Han Solo, Flynn Ryder, Damon Salvatore, BBC Sherlock, Spike, all have a few things in common.

They are all intelligent. In a room full of average hooligans, they can out talk, out maneuver, and outwit all comers. Red not only out thinks the FBI but he uses their influence to eliminate any criminal that gets in his the way.

Even in the worst of circumstance, they seem to find the humor in the situation. Spike, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, changed from bad to good and fell in love with the lead character but still had a yen for watching his daily soap opera, Passions.

 They are charming. Damon Salvatore, Vampire Diaries, can murder a dozen people and end the episode stealing a dance with Elena and swearing his undying loyalty and the views swoon.

Han Solo’s classic response when Princess Leia tells him she loves him.  Not the good boy, “I love you, too.” But instead, “I know.”  The character could write the guidebook on cocky bad boy responses.

Deep emotional core a/k/a their soft and gooey center. They care about their loved ones to a level that is above the law and moral standing. To save or be reunited with their loved one, they go to extreme measures. Spike fought through Hell for months to restore his soul, Damon returned from the dead, Red sacrificed himself to one of his many enemies in order to save Lizzie from a bullet in the head. Flynn Ryder dies instead of allowing Rapunzel to sacrifice her freedom.

After examining the blueprint for the antihero, I’ve come to a few conclusions.

Bad boys are fun, irreverent, romantic, and are highly entertaining, and attractive (in fiction). We return again and again to watch the morality play, to be entertained by their badness. and to root that they may find their inner good guy.

But for the audience to fall in love with them, they must feel redeemable. Even if they are never redeemed.

What do you think of the Blacklist? Bad boys?  Redeemable or unredeemable characters?  Leave me a comment.

My brother excels at many things. He’s  not just good, but great at almost anything he tries. Skills seemed to come to him in a flash.  He wanted to learn about computers in the 80’s so he pulled one apart and rebuilt it.  He could do the Rubik’s cube in less than three minutes.  He picked up a guitar. Within a few weeks, he had a band and was composing music.

Composing. Music.

He learned to drive and never had a major accident of any kind. In school, he never studied that I recall. I don’t think he ever brought home a school book after he hit high school, yet still managed very good grades.

There are many words attached to someone like this: genius, talented, wunderkind, but I categorize him as a natural.

I am not.

I read and re-read the instructional book that came with my DOS operated computer until I finally figured out how to make a simple program.  I never mastered the Rubik cube.  I spent the entirety of junior high learning to play flute by practicing every day and finally in high school took lessons. By my senior year, I was first chair. I was a horrible driver, until I had driven for years. And although I was third in my high school class and got a full ride scholarship, I spent most of my teen years buried in a math or history book, repeating by rote, doing worksheets, taking notes, highlighting, studying.

Writing is the same. The desire to put pen to paper comes with a small dollop of talent but it’s not easy. I am not a natural.

I watch other writing naturals and hear their stories. I got a Kindle in 2011 and decided I wanted to write a book. Three months later it was a ‘boom’ bestseller. I quit my day job.

The tales make my insides turn to molten lava and my head explode.  I’ve been writing for enjoyment my entire life.  I am a horrible speller, not great a grammar, and struggle with a myriad of other writing devices.  I take classes, go to seminars, read books, dedicate half of my time to writing and editing new material every damn day and after more than ten years on a publication path I still am trudging forward. No request. No agent. No publishing deal.

But all those years of watching my brother and fighting my not-naturalness has taught me something.

If I work hard enough. If I am dedicated enough.  If I endure for long enough.  I will succeed.  Natural or not.

Disclaimer: My brother may dispute the above. It is only my observation of the past and it is subjective.

Big, fat, hairy goals. BFHG for short.

I love list. Grocery list. To do list. Future plans lists. Project lists. If there is information I need to review or remember, my best friend is a bullet pointed Word doc. (Yeah, I’m weird. Also don’t get me started on office supplies or book stores.)

My favorite kind of list is a goals list. A list of resolutions for the new week, new month, new year, even the new day. My addition to list making is both a blessing and a bane. Because no matter how focused I am, no matter how early I start, I always, ALWAYS, put more on the list than I can humanly accomplish.

I say to myself on a daily basis. Don’t put more on the list than you can possibly do, because the pursuit will end in disappointment and eventually the important task planned at the bottom will fall off the list and be forgotten, because huge goals aren’t attainable anyway. Too much to do, not enough me.

When this happens I get discouraged and lose faith in my ability. The big, fat, hairy goals like- research Indie publishing , or submit to thirty agents, becomes more of a dream than a potential reality and my list drops into the mundane of emptying dishes and shoveling the driveway. Things that are safe. Things that I know I can complete in a satisfying manner. Things that don’t contribute to my life vision. But I have to admit that buzzy feeling of completion is somewhat addictive.

My biggest problem is the size of my goals. I logically can not work, care for a household, do my daily writing and editing, AND listen to half a dozen podcast, contact multiple freelance editors, pick through a hundred photos for cover, etc. (continues on to over fifty action items.)

I have found the answer is to have the big, fat hairy goals, but to rein in my excitement, and to adjust my expectations. Margie Lawson, one of my writing gurus, has a great article online about goal  setting and a whole packet about Defeating Self Defeating Behavior which I highly recommend. She suggest having two list. One a Winner list and even if you have dozen of things that need to be done, put two of your most important dream based goals on this list. These two must be done by the end of the day. She also encourages a Superstar list for when you have extra time to reach a bit higher and claw closer to those BFHGs.

I know these things, I just need to remember to implement slicing of goals on a daily basis and prioritizing. Keeping the ultimate vision of my life forefront and make enough progress to please my inner taskmaster.

Excuse me while I add, set realistic, bite sized goals to my list. Daily.

So what do you guys think about goals and achievement? Pro, con, too much structure? Please let me know in the comments.

Welp, I’m a junkie. Not the gross, bad kind that steals from family and mortgages the farm, then hides in  rundown houses to get high. No I’m the socially ok addict. The kind who is hooked on a substance that can bring both great joy and great pain.

I am a writing craft book addict.

I find when I start to question my skill, or get a harsh critique, or get yet another rejection, I turn to my addiction, and the knowledge is helpful and motivational and almost comforting. Yes, I am doing it right. But that’s when caution is necessary because it’s easy to confuse activity for progress.

The monkey on my back isn’t all bad. Some of the joy: finding the exact way to tweak a work-in-progress, locating a unknown problem and being able to fix it before it gets worse, stumbling upon a gem of knowledge that makes ‘POV’ or ‘pacing’ or ‘show don’t tell’ make sense, and using rhetorical devices to empower your prose and make your writing smooth.

So this seems to be all roses and sunshine and unicorns and rainbows. And it is, for a while but as with any addiction, there is a dark side.

The obsession takes over as a hint of shadow reveals itself. Every book or class starts to take precedence over the actual writing. Three new paper books about pacing sit on the shelf, two on Kindle, and still you want to interloan more. You get so involved in learning and how it’s done, but never have time to apply the tools your work-in-progress.

How do you kick or at least manage the addiction?

Pick one technique. Study it, then use it on the very next project. Let that knowledge build and next time add a new layer. My last short story, for example, was a practice session on deep characterization.

Look over critiques for what specifically has been addressed as a problem and ‘focus read’ about that.

Pick a chapter in a craft book that applies to your goals and skip or skim the rest. If characterization is not a sticking point for you, then don’t read a hundred pages about deepening character. Skim to the section you need work on, like speeding up a snail’s paced novel, or making your openings pop.

I can’t kick my habit. Heck, I don’t want to. But I do want to control it, and twist it to my will, so that the learning process isn’t only educating me and making me a better student, but with application and a daily word count goal. The craft books are making me a better writer, as well.

Now pass me ‘On Writing’ by Stephen King, I need to get my fix.