List Your Experience Below:

With the threat of independence looming on my horizons, money has become one of my main concerns. And, unfortunately, I need money roughly translates into I need a job: the one statement that has led me on a seemingly hopeless quest through classified ads and internet sites.

But today, there's been a breakthrough, and the stars have aligned! The Five Stars, that is. Some "Five Star Food Company" near my house is looking for employees. Pick me, pick me! In the joy of the moment, I swiftly printed out a copy of the application and hurried to fill in the blanks. But one small set of instructions stopped the frenzy short:

List your experience below.

Oh. That's right. Let me just scribble in a big fat "NONE".

But I am a woman on a mission. I have 93 goals and 943 days left. And by God, I will cross of this goal if it's the last thing I do.

Or, at least, I'll try...

Ask me about my novel.

Because it's finished!

No, I am not kidding. This time last week, I was sailing through the last few chapters of The Circular Path. It's a novel of epic proportions. 40 chapters, plus a prologue and epilogue. It's 180 Microsoft Word pages long (anywhere between 300 and 450 book-sized pages). I even wrote a synopsis: that's how good I am.

I have officially finished writing my first novel. Not novella, not novelette. A full-scale, fully complete novel. Which makes me a novelist. Yay.

I haven't written a word this week. In fact, sitting down to write this blog was the only bit of real writing I've done since finishing The Circular Path. Oh sure, I'm going to pick back up with the writing prompts on Monday. But for now? I think I'll just enjoy sailing on this cloud of fulfilled creativity.

Day 50

Oh, wow, it's been a hectic month.

I did manage to cross numbers 55 and 56 off my list by that bareback day with my friends. It was better than I imagined, but I doubt I'll be doing that again anytime soon.

Other than that, I've been a little slow on the 101 list. Maybe things will calm down some and I'll have more of a chance to get things done.

26 Things

Oh, wow - so I totally missed that the 26 Things photo project started this month! I'll be getting started a little late. But that's okay, I can play catch-up.

1. Couple
2. Slope
3. Plate
4. Going places
5. Scrambled
6. In the distance
7. Underneath
8. Bright
9. 11pm
10. Today
11. Everyday
12. Resemble
13. Childhood memory
14. In the water
15. Flower
16. Button
17. Heritage
18. Glow
19. Clock
20. Closed
21. Smile
22. Back
23. Plastic
24. Handle
25. In my fridge
26. Looking back at me

There's light at the end of The Path

November 1, 2008 - I start working on my manuscript. I have no plot, no characters - nothing more than a single scene in my head. And it is a very, very short scene. A scenette.

November 30, 2008 - Thanks in part to Chris Baty, my "novella" is 50,000 words closer to being complete.

January 2009 - After a month's break (much needed after thirty days of hardcore writing), I start working on my manuscript again. I realize there's no way it's going to be finished anytime soon.

March 2009 - The manuscript is christened The Circular Path.

May 2009 - The Circular Path hits novel proportions. I'm hopelessly far from finishing. I actually just hit the halfway mark, if I'm being honest.

August 8, 2009 - Over 85,000 words. Over twenty-three chapters. Approximately 147 pages.

And guess what? I'm really and truly ALMOST FINISHED! Hallelujah, and praise the Lord!

Three Birds, One Stone

Sometime next week my friends and I are all heading out to the barn for an afternoon of fun on horseback. Four of us are taking a two hour chunk out of the day, bridling up our geldings, and getting out into the arena for some friendly competition.

When you're constantly jumping the same old fences for months on end, there comes a time when deriving new courses around the arena just doesn't cut it. You want to mix it up; and if you're just crazy enough, you're going to want to mix it up bareback.

Now, I've never personally understood the allure of riding bareback. I get the poetry of (dare I use the same phrase two posts in a row?) going au naturale. In theory, the less standing in the way of you and your horse the better. But in practice? To a rider accustomed to saddles, the process is jarring, and sometimes painful. Something akin to sitting on the wing of an airplane that's making its way through turbulence.

But I'm curious to see if, with some more practice, it becomes just as addicting as people say.

So what, pray tell, are we doing next week? I have only two words: Bareback. Relays.

No, you did not read that wrong. We, the hunter/jumpers-in-training, are going to break into teams and attempt all sorts of humiliating relays on horses without pommels or stirrups to help us catch our balance. It's going to be two hours of non-stop mounting and dismounting, speedy transitions, and sharp turns - plus a race to the finish line. I, for one, can promise you that I'm going to fall off. At least once. Maybe more.

And in preparation for the Day of Ultimate Humiliation, I'm training how? Not by going to the gym or jogging in the park. Oh, no. I am going to be spending the next few days on Wii Fit, playing balance games and exercising my leg and core muscles. And I'm going to pick up those Crazy 8 Calf Exercises my gymnist friend swears by.

Six days and counting. Lets see how this goes.

Okay, I take it back.

I mean, at this point, it doesn't even sound easy.

Let me introduce you to Goal #44: Visit the local zine stand. Simple enough, right? Not at all anywhere near as difficult as some of the other goals - learn poker, finish my novel, get a job. These goals sound like they involve some work, some effort; but visit a zine stand? Not so much. It's just something I've been meaning to do, but, well, just haven't. I put it on the list less to challenge myself and more to actually get it done.

So yesterday I went shopping at this street market. It was a beautiful day, if not slightly hot, and I was wearing a loose little summer dress and a big flower necklace. I went au naturale as far as makeup was concerned, just a light base. Anything else would have sweat off.

As I was browsing the vendors, I realized that the one and only local zine stand was right around the corner. What better time to cross off that goal? So I get in the car and go.

I turn onto the street where the stand is, and I immediately realize that something's up. All of a sudden, I'm in a particularly run-down neighborhood, and one word is flashing through my mind. SKETCHY SKETCHY SKETCHY!

But I hold faith. Never judge a book by its cover, after all. And I go slowly past the decrepit old building, trying to peer in. And then I see the people hanging around inside... And the skull on the door... And numerous other warning signs.

So there's me, in the Camry, in all of my 5'2", baby fat, floral dress glory in front of the sign proclaiming "Derailed: Zines and Magazines", or something along those lines. And inside are people with piercings, in skinny jeans (despite the fact that its August for God's sake and I doubt the place has air-condition) and doing God knows what.

Okay, I think. Definitely the wrong day to wear floral.

Mission aborted.

But only for now. After all, I have no problem going into places like that - if I know what I'm getting into before I go. So I guess I'll have to slip on the skinny jeans, some shades, and a plain black tee and try again.

Goal #44, I am not giving up on you!

What's up with all the pictures?

I've been dying to go to an art gallery showing ever since I thought to add goal #77 to my list. And while I was thinking more along the lines of a painting studio, I suppose my excursion last night counts.

You see, last night I headed out to a housewarming party, of sorts, for a photography studio. I thought to myself, 'Photographers. I have to look good.' And I spent nearly an hour getting ready. White dress. Silver Steve Madden sandals. Green Kate Landry clutch. Throw on some makeup, fix my hair...

I get there in a pretty good mood. I say hello to the photographer and his wife. I even meet his daughter.

And then I venture into the studio... and get lost in a throng of fifty-year-old drunken women towing their husbands around like inexperienced truck drivers.

Small studio, huge crowd. Apparently this was one popular photographer.

The amount and variety of people there were both staggering, and, novelist that I am, I couldn't help sitting back and observing not the art, but the people. A woman with a thick accent trying to first locate and then maneuver her way to the bathroom. A couple clearly gossiping about a small group of people laughing in the corner. A few lone husbands, bored out of their minds, banding together to entertain themselves.

It was interesting bunch, and I was surprised to find out that the 'gallery showing' was not so much about the pictures, but about the society. In all of the hubbub, I may have been one of the few people to walk around and actually look at the photographs. Almost everyone else seemed more interested in setting up lunch dates, and bragging about their families, and hitting up the open bar.

So much for patronizing the arts.