Glitz & Grammar

Life and Times of a Wannabe Writer

Tag Archives: writing


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Talking to Myself

My computer’s been crashing left and right lately, so I’ve spent the past few days transferring all my old writing onto an external hard drive just in case. Reading through my old journal entries has reminded me of what an emotional roller coaster my life has been, but it has also made me so grateful for where I am now.

I thought I’d share this letter I wrote to myself on December 14, 2012–my 28th birthday. This was only a few months ago, so it kind of boggles my mind how much things have changed. (I love my job, I’ve made remarkable progress on my novel, and I’ve found the most incredible man who I am 100 percent certain I am meant to share my life with.)

Life can be pretty amazing if you just let it be.

Dear Self,

Happy birthday! Chin up, 28’s not that old. You still have plenty of time to land your dream job, find your dream guy, and adopt those African babies! Why are you stressing so much??

You’ve been stressing a lot lately, actually. About everything. Why do you always feel the need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders? You’d think that by 28 you’d have it figured out—things are going to carry on, play out the way they should, regardless of whether you worry about them constantly or not. So stop worrying about them constantly.

Quit wondering when your writing will be noticed by the right person and just write. Quit chasing after that one guy and let someone who actually cares start chasing you. Quit worrying about your eggs drying up—you don’t understand how that biology works, and you’ve always wanted to adopt anyway.

Life isn’t the pretty package you grew up believing it would be. You should know that by now.

You didn’t get that internship with National Geographic. You didn’t land a full-time writing gig immediately out of college. You got kicked out of law school. And now you’re a bartender who writes on the side. Get over it. Nobody else’s life goes according to plan either, so why are you so obsessed with your own?

Let’s make 28 about fulfilling your dreams. You’ve had plenty of fun these past few years. Heck, you’ve had a pretty kickass 27 years. So let’s buckle down. Let’s focus your time and energy on being a better person and perfecting the craft you love.

Drink more tea and less tequila. Eat more fruits and veggies and less Taco Bell Dollar Menu. Play more outside and less on your video game console.

Walk your dog every day. Read every day. Write every day. Call someone you love every day.

Pay off your credit card debt. Create a website. Finish your novel. Jesus Christ, Jessica, FINISH YOUR NOVEL.

You’re a good person who works hard, but it’s time to be better and it’s time to work harder. 

This is your year.

I love you,
Yourself


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Dead Time

It’s midnight, which means we’re about two hours away from prime writing time. Or mine, at least. My roommate/BFF says I write best between 2 and 4 a.m. because that’s what weirdos like her call “dead time,” a time when ghosts and spirits are allegedly more active. How this corresponds to the quality of my writing is beyond me, but I always thought it was kind of interesting she’d draw that connection.

Personally, I think it’s the lack of distraction between 2 and 4 a.m. that make those hours so perfect for writing. Your chores for the day have already been done, your errands already run. And all the normal people have long since gone to bed so you don’t have to worry about being interrupted by phone calls, text messages, and that burning desire to check your Facebook notifications every 12 seconds. It’s just you, your imagination, and a blank Word document, alone in a dark and silent room.

Or maybe it is just the ghost thing; I don’t know.

Anyway, I figured I’d spend the next couple hours writing a quick post since I’ve been terrible about maintaining this blog and so I can use “dead time” to work on my new novel. Spoiler alert: It’s about a beautiful 26-year-old piano-playing prodigy who loses both her fiancé and her right hand in a devastating car accident. Brutal, right? We’ll see how many pages I make it into this one before dropping it into the “unfinished manuscripts” folder on my desktop.

I don’t know if it’s all the NaNoWriMo juice I’ve been drinking or what, but lately I’ve been feeling the need to focus all my writing endeavors on finally finishing a book. It’s just starting to seem like the only avenue I have left to making a career as a writer. Every effort I’ve made to land a steady gig with a local magazine has failed, I’ve proven time and time again I’m not disciplined enough to earn a legitimate income freelancing, and I’ve got this weird apprehension that the writing projects I have been working are starting to hit a plateau. So really it’s like, why not give this whole novel writing thing a serious shot?

Also, I really have dreamed about becoming the world-renowned author of some best-selling series since I was a little girl. Book signings, Today Show interviews, phone calls from Christopher Nolan begging me to let him turn my books into movies—it would all be mine!

In all honesty, it’s about so much more than just that. Because writing isn’t all about getting published. In fact, any true writer—those who eat, sleep, and breathe their craft—will agree that publication is only a tiny fraction of the satisfaction we get from writing. It’s not the bylines or the fame we are addicted to as writers. It’s the process.

It’s spending whole days reading in search of new ideas, then being struck with one out of the blue one night while showering or driving or watering your plant. It’s the panic that overcomes you the moment that idea strikes, to find the nearest notebook or piece of paper or fuck it, just give me that napkin, so you can jot down your thoughts before they escape forever. It’s turning on your laptop at 2 a.m. and sitting down to do work in the silence and candlelight. It’s rummaging through the deepest crevices of your brain and allowing whatever you find in there to spill unapologetically through your fingertips out onto your keyboard. It’s about pushing the print button after that final edit, and the pride you feel once you recognize you have just given life to something that was once nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

That may have sounded like a bunch of deep hippie bullshit, but whatever. If you’re a writer, you get it.

I actually wrote this piece a lot quicker than I figured it would take, so I’m going to go Google “hand amputation” for a bit. On a related note, I just realized why my dreams have been so weird lately.


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Crap

Hello anyone out there who still reads this blog! Just thought I’d take a moment to talk about what a sack of dog shit I am.

I was recently fired from one of my bartending jobs the day after quitting the other. That’s not even the dog shit part because the reason I was terminated is so stupid it’s a joke, but not really one that made me LOL or anything. What did make me LOL was when my manager ended her “We’re going to have to let you go” speech with, “but that’s a really cute dress!” Swear to God that happened.

Anyway, it ended up being one of the best things ever because I have since picked up a new bartending job where I work half as often and make just as much as I did at the other two joints combined. I mean yeah, I’m still a 27-year-old bartender and whatever, but at least I can pay my water bill this month. Boom shaka laka.

Still, I’m a total sack of dog shit.

Here’s why: I am finally in a place where I’ve got all this extra time to write—to really make a name for myself and maybe even finally turn this writing dream into a full-time gig! I have whole days off now…WHOLE DAYS. Sometimes even two in a row. That’s two days in a row where I could be pounding out words, one after another, charming the socks of readers and literary agents and whatnot.

Instead, here is a list of things I haven’t been writing lately:

  • Anything for this blog (obvi)
  • Freelance articles that could potentially earn me legitimate income
  • A single word for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, a writing challenge I’ve “participated” in the past three Novembers)
  • My own column (I took Halloween off since it’s my favorite holiday and all, and have yet to write anything since. I’m probably going to get fired.)

Essentially what I’m getting at here is that since being granted all this free time for writing, I have spent exactly zero minutes of it writing.

While I’d love to say the problem is I’ve been sooooooo busy, I can’t. Because I’m a terrible liar. And it’s not like I have nothing to write about, either. So I can’t even use that CREATIVITY IS NOT SOMETHING THAT CAN BE RUSHED!!! excuse.

Mostly, I’ve just been a lazy fuck. I recently deleted all my Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 data by accident, so a good chunk of my life has been devoted to getting my rank back up in hopes that 13-year-old boys will quit calling me a noob. The rest of my time has been allocated between working (pouring beer into cups, etc.) and drinking this one bottle of 192 proof vodka I just bought that tastes like gasoline mixed with farts.

Oh, I have also developed a sleeping problem, which sort of makes me feel like the guy in Fight Club. Side note: I was Marla Singer from Fight Club this Halloween. But yeah, I can’t seem to fall asleep before 3 a.m., and generally wake up around 6 or 7 all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to take on my super exciting day of pouring beers into cups, etc. and NOT writing.

Do you guys think I’m in a funk or what? What do you, fellow writers, do when you get into this pattern of non-writing? How do you get back into the groove?

Any and all suggestions/criticism welcome.

Also, if you’re participating in NaNoWriMo, tell me about your progress. I was thinking about finishing my mermaid novel this year, but then I was like, Ooooh maybe I should just get a mermaid tattoo instead!


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You Might Need This

Hello writers and fellow wannabe writers! Because I am a good friend (or at least a semi-decent internet friend), I have decided to share with you this awesome new shirt I just purchased from Raygun. ($19…what a deal!) I will also link you to the website where YOU can purchase your very own. See? Told you I’m not so bad. Just make sure to call and give me a heads up the days you wear it so we don’t look totally ridiculous rocking twin blog-a-lot shirts. How embarrassing.


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This blog, me, and my monkey

I just got an email from WordPress stating the domain name for this blog is about to expire and I’m just like well fuck. Because if we’re being real honest, the domain name glitzandgrammar.com is probably about the cutest any of us have ever heard but it’s also just like, I hardly ever write here anymore and $17 would buy me an F-load of cheap wine.

Also, I just reread the email and it’s $18, not $17.

At the same time, I kind of feel like maybe it’s time to take this blog in a new direction. One which might actually gain it some recognition. Not that I don’t absolutely adore the emails and messages I receive from you amazing peeps, but come on. I just feel that with a name like “Glitz & Grammar” I should be knockin’ out Pulitzers left and right and shit. You know what I mean?

So what should I do? Bite the bullet, pay the $17, nay, $18, and actually post stuff worth reading on here? Or fail to renew, let it expire, buy a bunch of wine and move on? If your vote is for the former, what do you think I should write about? Like, do you have any ideas or suggestions that might help me win awards? Or at least get paid enough that I don’t have to worry when my once-yearly $18 renewal fee due date comes around?

Obviously there are no limits with regards to what I’m willing to talk about. I don’t really do that whole “holding back” thing. In the words of my main dudes, “Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my monkey.” Assuming I interpreted that song correctly, that means my monkey and I have nothing to hide and we’ll write about whatever shit you guys want us to write about. So hit us with some brilliant blog topics and we’ll write the fuck out of ‘em. And if by this point you’re just all like, “Ugh. That’s totally not what the Beatles meant in that song” just keep it to yourself because I’ve got enough on my plate what with dealing with the renewal of this domain name and all and don’t need to be told that my interpretations of songs from my childhood are out of whack and whatnot.

Also, happy Labor Day, y’all.

my monkey (I wish)


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Kid books and sex columns

Yo dudes and dudettes! Just wanted to take this opportunity to knock your socks off and boggle your minds. I bet up until this moment, you all thought I was just some whacky chick who likes to drop mad F-bombs and slander the perfectly good name of Father Christmas. But I’m so much more than that! Because in addition to all that goodness, I’m also working on my first novel (a YA novel, nonetheless!) ANNNDDD I write a love, sex and relationship column for an awesome “female positive” publication called Wildflower Magazine. I’m even the Assistant Editor over there! Whaaaaat?! I know, right? You guys think I’m this lazy bum but turns out I’m profesh as fuck!

Anyway, if you want to know more about my book that’s too bad. Because it’s super dope and I don’t want any of you buttholes stealing my idea. But if you’re into supporting creative women from around the world, you should totally check out Wildflower Magazine! We’re all about promoting the awesome art and stories of females and female-lovin’ non-females.

To read my column, Sex in Sin City, click on my boobies below.

And as always, thank you for reading :-*


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Writing epiphanies, fedoras, and fortune cookies

This Thursday I attended my first ever “Las Vegas Writers Group meetup” which is, shockingly, a meet up group for writers in the Las Vegas area. I went alone and for no other reason than because I want to be a writer.

It was the first time since I can remember that I attended an event for nobody’s benefit but mine. These past couple years I’ve devoted so much time and energy to supporting someone else’s dream that I almost forgot I used to have my own.

So, down a boyfriend and up a few free weeknights I decided I might as well crash this sure–to-be-poppin’ writers shindig. It took me three hours to prepare. Not my writing, but my outfit. And the last hour of that was just a back and forth with myself over whether I’d look cool or douchey if I wore a fedora.

As you see, I decided to go with it. Not that it mattered since I ended up being the youngest one there by at least two decades and nobody really gave a shit about me or my douchey hat.

Regardless of everyone’s disregard for my innate ability to accessorize, I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of the meet up. Except I didn’t know there was a cover charge and got kind of pissed when I had to pay a $3 ATM fee to withdraw the $5 cover. OH! I also get super pissed when grocery store checkers are like, “Would you care to make a donation to help cure cancer in children?” I’m aware this is a total tangent, but it seriously boils my blood every single time. How can I possibly say no to helping cure cancer in children? I mean sure I’m charging that $1’s worth of ramen noodles to my credit card, but why not? Throw an extra five spot on there so I don’t look like an asshole to the person in line behind me.

Anyway, that whole cancer thing just happened again today, which I guess makes it sort of relevant. But I’ll get back to the meet up just the same.

So there I am, $8 in the hole but feeling like a million bucks in my fedora. (I made a pact with myself in the parking lot before I walked in that if I decided to wear the hat, I would have to 100% own the shit out of it.) After paying my 5 or $8 cover, depending on how you look at it, I grabbed a seat in the way back because it was the only seat left in the house. And by house I mean dive bar/tobacco shop that serves “Italian American” food and warm beer.

There were at least 50 fifty-somethings, a handful of peeps even older than that (not that fifty-something is ancient) and, if I’m being honest, I guess there were a couple dudes in there close to my age. It was a smorgasbord of writers, nonetheless, which totally made my heart happy. I sat there scoping out each and every one of them, wondering what they were working on, what characters they had created, what stories were playing out in their minds at that very moment.

Which were authors? Which were screenwriters? Which were just bloggers with really high aspirations and a fondness for felt headwear?

Once the stragglers (me) were situated, a guest speaker humbly introduced himself as writer, Richard Wiley. A less humble handout indicated he was founder of the Creative Writing MFA program at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Associate Director of the Black Mountain Institute, and author of several novels including one that got him the PEN/Faulkner award for best American fiction. Mr. Wiley sipped pale ale while discussing the topic of the hour, “Common Mistakes Writers Make and How to Avoid Making them.” It took less than 20 seconds for me to fall deeply in love with him.

Within the hour, I learned I was guilty of most mistakes made by writers, in particular, cardinal sin number one: looking past the work to the reward. Mr. Wiley’s suggestion for overcoming this is to try and imagine publication doesn’t matter. He said that writers should write “not to say something, but in order to find out what it is they have to say.” And I thought, “Crap. That’s deep.”

While I really do love the process of writing, in fact I’d say I’m addicted to it, the process is sometimes overshadowed by a greed to see my name in print. “by Jessica Farkas” – I love the way it looks! I’m not even all that fond of my name, it just looks so damn good in writing. I’ll pump out a 1,000-word article on some BS topic I don’t give an S about if it gets me a byline.

But Wiley’s right. Writing is about the joy you get while doing the work, not the praise you receive when you’re done.

Truth is, the only time I don’t feel like I should be doing something else is when I’m writing. Even if it’s just a silly post for my lame blog, writing is what reminds me that I am alive. Everyone should have something like that. If you don’t, well then find it. And once you do, don’t you dare allow yourself to forget about it. Not for anyone.

Anyway, I also think it’s important you guys know that I ate some cheap Chinese takeout tonight and this was my fortune:


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Day in the life

6:00 a.m.
Alarm goes off. Hit snooze button. Twice, maybe three times, depending on whether wine was consumed night before.

6:30 a.m.
Shower. Wash hair. Never mind washing hair. I’ll just wear it up again.

 7:15 a.m.
Check email. Check Twitter. Check Facebook. Check clock. Shit. I’m late.

7:55 a.m.
Get in car. Hopefully it starts. Turn on radio. That same fucking Adele song. Turn off.

8:00 a.m. – 8:35 a.m.
Fuck Las Vegas traffic.

8:40 a.m.
Utilize James Bond skills to stealthily sneak past bosses and into cubicle. They’re too busy to notice I’m late anyway. Clock in.

 8:41 a.m. – 4:59 p.m.
Stare at computer screen while considering least painful ways to commit suicide.

5:00 p.m.
Never mind the killing myself thing. Life is awesome!!

5:02 p.m.
Get in car. Turn on radio. Adele. Turn off.

5:03 p.m. – 5:50 p.m.
Seriously with this traffic?

6:00 p.m.
Pour self a cocktail. Feed self.

7:30 p.m.
Sit down to computer. Time to get some writing done. Open Safari instead. Check email. Check Twitter. Check Facebook.

8:30 p.m.
Think about all the things I should be writing about.

9:30 p.m. – 10:30 p.m.
Go to the gym. It’s literally only a two minute walk from my house, so why not?

9:30 p.m.
Pour self another cocktail.

11:00 p.m.
Get in bed. Feel exhausted despite having accomplished nothing for the day. Think about all the things I should have written about.

11:30 p.m. – 6:00 a.m.
Dream about the day I’ll have enough time and energy to actually write something worth reading.

6:00 a.m.
Repeat. Unless it’s a Saturday or Sunday, in which case…go to second job.

6:00 p.m.


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Shalom Y’all

Welcome to G&G. G&G is the super cute acronym I came up with for my blog, Glitz & Grammar, which is a cute play on words, particularly on the phrase, “Glitz and Glamour.” You’ll notice in that last sentence, the one containing four commas, that grammar’s not really my thing. So what’s with the title you ask? It’s super fucking cute. That’s what.

So here’s the deal: I’ve been blogging for an audience made up of my mom and my boyfriend for about a year and a half now. I also write a film column over at Wildflower Magazine, which makes me feel like I’m better at life than I probably really am.

The purpose of G&G, though, is to create a place on the internet that is entirely my own – a place where I am free to spew the projective verbal vomit that is constantly getting me in trouble everywhere else in the world. Because what’s life without a safe place for word-barf? You know what I mean?

I don’t know that G&G will be up everyone’s alley. In fact, I wouldn’t be all that shocked if it’s up nobody’s alley. That’s okay – my mom will still read it. The point is, I want a place to write every day because if there is one thing I love in this world, it’s writing. I actually probably wont write every day. Or even close to it. So I guess that part of the previous statement is kind of bullshit. But I did just empty my checking account to purchase this domain/blog title (tell me it’s cute) so I’d better at least get some use out of it. What’s that? It only costs $17 a year to purchase a custom domain through WordPress? Yeah. I know that.

Anyway, I’m going to aim to update once a week-ish. Most people like to aim high, but I prefer to hold expectations of myself pretty low. That way if I accomplish anything I’m just like, “NICE!” And if I actually exceed my expectations I’m just like, “ffffffffuckkkking MIND BLOWERRR!” Those are way better feelings than creating all these semi-realistic goals for myself that I’ll probably never attain because when it comes down to it, I’m kind of lazy. Plus I work three jobs and hardly have time to keep my hygiene in check let alone update some stupid blog every day. So let’s just go for once a week, is that cool?

Do you want to know what to expect from G&G? Okay. Here are some things you might see on my blog:

  • Ramblings about my shortcomings as a human being;
  • Ramblings about the shortcomings of other people as human beings;
  • Reviews (on music, on restaurants, on tequilas, etc.);
  • Snippets of my screenplays. I’ve got about 7 in the works;
  • Excerpts from my novels. I’ve got about 27 in the works;
  • Relationship and dating advice from a 26-year-old who has only had two boyfriends. Ever;
  • My attempts/failures at acquiring a sense of fashion;
  • The things I would do to Kevin Spacey if he would let me;
  • Top ten lists. Man, I love top ten lists!;
  • Samples of my bad photography;
  • Internal debates with myself centering around topics like, “Should I name my future cat Yoshi or Dr. Gonzo?; and, as my tagline might suggest,
  • First person accounts of my life and times as a wannabe writer.

Here are some things you shouldn’t expect to see on my blog:

  • Super intense opinion pieces on my political and religious beliefs. Everyone on this side of Lake Mead knows I’m a non-theist hippie liberal. But you aint gotta be one to kick it;
  • Some great new recipe I conjured up. Get real;
  • Thought provoking discussion about a book I just read. I read novels written primarily for adolescent males. My favorite authors include Tom Robbins, Dave Eggers, Hunter S. Thompson and Tim Sandlin, in case you were wondering.
  • Samples of my good photography;
  • Philosophical revelations about the meaning of life. I’ve got no fucking clue, dude.

Finally, I thought I’d just share a few fun facts about me because everyone likes talking about themselves and I’m no exception:

  • When I was 11, I moved from the Bay Area to a town where cow tipping and bunny bashing were acceptable and common pastimes for children my age;
  • I was a vegetarian for like five years, but now there’s nothing I like better than a big piece of meat in my mouth;
  • The happiest I’ve ever felt was sitting under a waterfall in Africa;
  • When I was in kindergarten I asked my teacher what happened to all the girl presidents;
  • I laugh when I’m scared;
  • Sub sandwiches make up 97% of my diet; and
  • I fall in love with 97% of the people I meet on a day-to-day basis.

If this blog sounds like something you can dig, stick around, click that little orange RSS button and subscribe! If you think I sound like a douchebag and don’t want anything to do with me or my blog, well that’s pretty harsh. But it’s cool. Because my mom thinks you’re an asshole and probably wouldn’t want me hanging out with you anyway.

So that’s it, peeps. I really hope you’ll stop by every now and then. I actually look very forward to puking all over your computer monitors.

Peace and love,
Jess

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