Since I'm now in the querying trenches, I need distractions in order to stop me from checking my email a million times...an hour.
One distraction I wasn't expecting was a slight pressure in my chest that brought a funky cold and a voice that resembles something between a braying donkey and screechy car brakes. Yeah, I tried singing this morning and it wasn't pretty. Speaking of not pretty, my grown out pixie haircut that is pushing a fullet (female mullet) and is flying every which way. It's suuuuper hot.
But right now, I could care less. I'm just glad my kids made it to school and have food in their tummies and clean clothes on their backs.
As for the distractions I do enjoy, here are my choices!
The first two go along with my current sickness. That would be choice award for clothing: pajamas. And choice award for healthy remedies: doTERRA Oils.
Basically, I live off OnGuard all winter long. It's awesome.
My choice award for book to read right now is:
My choice award for Netflix show definitely goes to:
My choice award for hulu show is:
My writing contest of choice is:
And tomorrow's the last day to post your pitch so get on over!
And my writing of choice is my current YA Contemporary project. Here's the first page.
Most people think the devil has spiked-shaped horns, holds a pitch fork, and has an obsession with everything red. What they really don’t know is that he’s much more normal. About five feet, ten inches, completely bald head, compensating dark goatee, pin striped suit, and wears pennyloafers. No joke.
And just happens to have a daughter who stands tall at five foot, two inches with cropped red hair that may or may not flame when she gets upset.
Okay, so not all that is true. My dad isn’t the devil and I only stand tall when I’m standing on something else. The hair part…well, let’s just say things heat up when someone contradicts me. Especially Dad. And even though he isn’t really the devil, I get the two confused more often than not. Especially when he strikes a hard deal—which is what happened my senior year.
This is how the conversation went.
“Kal-bell,” he said. Yes, a lame nick-name for a normal person named Kalli, but he’d called me that since I was a child. Somehow that negates any hard feelings. Anyway…
“Kal-bell,” he said.
I looked up from the calculator in my hand, frustrated that he probably ruined the ten minute equation I was about to crack.
“Yes father?” He had a certain look in his eye—the same look he gave me before we had made the deal that got him more date nights with mom while I babysat my twin little brothers for free. Not cool.
I dropped the calculator and put my hands behind my head. His eyes narrowed on me and he leaned against the counter, mirroring my relaxed position. Somehow the person most relaxed always won the deal.
And that's how I distract myself! I'd say they are great things to keep my mind busy.
What would your choices be?