I work a day job. My hours, usually, are 8am-5pm, although I do on occasion work 7am-4pm.
Now, you may think the longest hour of the day would be 4-5pm (or 3-4pm), but you would be wrong. Based on my observations over the years, the longest hour of the day is 10-11am.
I have absolutely no idea why. But it’s true. I notice it every single workday.
Any theories out there?
Everyone remembers where they were on “9/11”.
Fifteen years ago today, I sat in my office and watched (on TV) as a second plane flew into the World Trade Center in NYC. I watched in horror as the collective “we” realized our nation was under attack.
September 11, 2001 was primary day in New York State. I dashed out of work at noon and went to vote, then came back to the office. A few minutes later, the governor closed the polls. The primaries would be rescheduled. (That was the year I voted for a certain candidate for mayor three times: twice in primaries and once in the general election.)
I worked in local TV at the time. You might think that local broadcasting had nothing to do on that awful day. But we did. People always call local newsrooms when there is a major breaking event. I didn’t work in the newsroom, although several of us took turns helping the news department answer the phones. I was in programming and was fielding my own share of viewer questions. The networks had suspended all programming for continuing coverage of breaking news. The behind-the-scenes non-news part of TV was a mess.
One phone call in particular has stuck with me. Memories of that phone call still have the power to infuriate me. I was polite to the caller, when the caller didn’t deserve politeness.
“So, are you going to air Big Brother or what?” (One of the things I love about my new Day Job is not having to answer phones.)
What are your memories of this horrific day?
It’s National “Get Caught Reading” Day.
So, as I type this (when I’m supposed to be finishing up the first round of revisions on my next book), I’m re-reading Stephen King’s The Dead Zone. My husband watched the movie a couple of weeks ago and remarked how it reminded him of current events. That aside, Stephen King can write.
If I caught the characters in my current release, Omega Moon Rising, reading, the hero (Luke Omega) would be surfing the net, reading whatever he found there. Or, more likely, looking at pictures. The heroine (Abby Grant) doesn’t have time to read for pleasure so she would be studying Songwriting for Dummies or The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Songwriting. She’s a young woman focused on her goals.
What would I like to see you get caught reading? I’d say my first book, Moonlight Serenade, which is on sale this week for 99¢.
I’ve been up to my ears in revisions. Apparently my manuscript wasn’t as “clean” as I thought it was, which is kind of embarrassing. I pride myself in turning in professional work to my publishers. Oh well. My editor is an amazing woman who asks wonderful questions and points out holes a convoy of tanks could traverse. We’re making the book better.
I actually don’t mind revisions, because they mean I’ve accomplished the best part of being an author: I have written. “You can’t edit a blank page.” I’ve heard the quote attributed to many authors. Let’s just say that it comes from Nora Roberts. She knows what she’s talking about.
A recent Washington Post article claimed “extroverts are on the whole happier than introverts.” I was outraged when I read that (and thrilled when I read the Thoreau quote near the end of the article. Well, DUH!).
There’s a reason extroverts are happier: our culture is made to revolve around them. The needs of introverts are ignored. If peace and quiet reigned, if everyone had their own office (instead of a cubicle), if everything wasn’t a damned group activity, introverts would be happier than extroverts. The capacity for happiness is not in the makeup of the personality; it’s in the makeup of society.
And who did this survey? Leave me alone already!