Time Management HELP!

By Annette Dashofy

I need some time management help. Or maybe lessons in juggling.

Or maybe psychiatric treatment. What leads a person to completely overload their life? It’s a sickness. And I have it.

Remember last year when I was losing my mind as conference coordinator? At that time, I dreamt of being done with the job so I could have free time. And what do I do with free time? I fill it with other stuff.

Part of it, I blame on my darling hubby. A few months ago, it looked that he might be unemployed by the end of 2009. So far, his job is intact. Knock wood. But at the time, there was much discussion that I should consider “getting a real job.” Never mind that I already work hard at writing, teach some yoga classes, and am primary caregiver for my mom (who, thankfully, is fairly self-sufficient most days). Never mind that I’m area rep for Pennwriters.

I don’t have time for a “real job.”

My solution?

I am now an Independent Sales Representative for Avon. As in Avon Lady.

I love it! For much of my life, I’ve been something of a Tom Boy. Now I get to play with jewelry and makeup and lotions and perfumes. Suddenly, I’m a Girly Girl.

This wasn’t exactly what my husband had in mind. Starting your own business does not result in reeling in copious amounts of cash. I think I’m doing pretty well because I’m not spending more than I’m making. Even with my new collection of cute Girly Girl earrings! But since his job doesn’t APPEAR to be in immediate jeopardy at the moment, he’s ceased the “real job” rumblings. For the moment.

So I’m now juggling THREE jobs. Plus the Pennwriters Area Rep gig.

What, then, incensed me to agree to take on the presidency of the Mary Roberts Rinehart Chapter of Sisters in Crime??? Okay. That one’s easy. No one else would take it.

I’m considering changing my name to Ado Annie. Remember her? From the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Oklahoma? “I’m just a girl who cain’t say no…”

Which brings me back to the time management thing. I figure if I can find a way to balance my writing, my Avon business, my yoga students, my Pennwriters duties, AND my Sisters in Crime presidential duties, I should rank as a time management expert. I could write the book.

If I could find the time.

And now, for your musical enjoyment:

What was I thinking?

Episode 2

By Annette Dashofy

Back in June, I blogged about the mental illness from which I suffer. The one where I volunteer for things in the belief that if they’re far enough in the future, I’ll be less busy by then and will have the time to breeze through the tasks required.

To be specific, I volunteered in 2007 to be the 2009 Pennwriters Conference Coordinator.

Here it is, September of 2008. I’ve been toiling away since late last winter. And while I feel like I’ve accomplished a lot, when I look at what remains to be done…well, let’s just say I’m buying stock in Pepto-Bismal.


I have Lisa Scottoline coming in to be our Friday night keynote speaker. Tim Esaias, poet and writing teacher extraordinaire will be giving the Saturday luncheon keynote. I’ve rounded up agents Lucienne Diver, Paige Wheeler, Alyssa Eisner Henkin, and Uwe Stender to hear pitches and offer workshops. Jane Friedman, editorial director of F+W Publications, will be on hand as will Matthew Holliday, editor of Pennsylvania Magazine.

We’re having two day-long intensive workshops on the Thursday before the conference (May 14) and Marta Perry has agreed to present the fiction intensive. Mary Jo Rulnick will teach the nonfiction one.

John J. Lamb and CJ Lyons are coming to be special guest speakers. And I have a number of local authors and teachers lined up to do workshops, including Nancy Martin.

So far, so good. Why then, am I approaching panic mode?

Because it’s September! Only eight months and 12 days until the conference kicks off.

On the other hand, in eight months and FIFTEEN days, it will be over and I will be FREE.

In the meantime, I have a couple more agents and editors to line up, workshops to plan, menus to select…

Thankfully, I do have a wonderful planning committee behind me. There area a ton of details that I have delegated to this capable group of Pennwriters. And I have a list of willing volunteers waiting in the wings for their assignments.

What I need are attendees. So I want you all to mark your calendars for May 15-17, 2009 (include May 14 if you want to attend one of the intensives!). Make your travel arrangements to come to the 2009 Pennwriters Conference: A Writer’s Tool Chest to be held at the Pittsburgh Airport Marriott.

And Pennwriters has a new website and a new conference page where you can find all the bios for the speakers I’ve mentioned. Okay, I’m still working on it, so maybe not ALL the speakers. You’ll just have to bookmark the page so you can come back and check on my frequent updates.

I want to see you all there!

What was I thinking?

Episode 1

By Annette Dashofy

I have a structural defect in my brain. Whenever I’m confronted with the prospect of taking on a new responsibility—one that takes place six months or a year from now—I gleefully accept the challenge. After all, it isn’t happening NOW. The future seems so far away. And, I dunno, maybe I expect the world to come to an end before it’s time to actually do anything about the new responsibility.

A little over a year ago, I did it again. On the final day of the 2007 Pennwriters Conference, I volunteered to head up the 2009 Conference.

What the hell was I thinking?

The 2008 Pennwriters Conference is now listed in the history books as the most successful one ever. Nothing like a little pressure to perform.

But still, the event is eleven months away. I have lined up Lisa Scottoline as our Friday night keynote speaker. Local favorite Tim Esaias will be our Saturday lunch keynote. John Lamb and C.J. Lyons are on tap as special guest speakers. Hey, I’m ahead of the curve here!

Or so I thought. Then came (cue spooky organ music) the grant application.

I was given the news last Thursday that I needed to gather a long list of detailed information on the conference in order to apply for a grant. And I needed it by Monday. Not wanting to be responsible for losing a shot at free money, I scrambled. For ten hours on Saturday, I sat at the computer pulling rabbits out of hats and spinning straw into gold. These were details I thought I still had months to leisurely work on. Months. Not days.

With the help of our Pennwriters president and the 2008 conference coordinator, the information and numbers for the budget were neatly compiled and presented to our treasurer.

Then I learned that since it appears that we stand a pretty good chance of not losing money on the project, we don’t qualify for the grant. It seems we did too good of a job of budgeting.

Which is good thing, I think.

Ah, well, the work wasn’t all for nothing. I am now even further ahead of the curve. I can almost relax and breathe. At least until the next fire drill.

Stay tuned.

And mark your calendar: 2009 Pennwriters Conference: A Writer’s Tool Chest takes place May 15-17 at the Pittsburgh Airport Marriott.

Ramblings

by Joyce Tremel

Seeing as I'm still brain dead from the Pennwriter's Conference, this post is going to be a rambling mess. In other words, if you're here to read something that makes sense, I'll excuse you now.

There's not much going on in Shaler these days. Most of our calls have been for EMS, lost dogs and cats, disorderly juveniles and people who lock themselves out of their cars. Yawn.

At home, I have more than enough to do. There's always laundry, cleaning, cooking, more laundry, gardening, more laundry...you get the picture. But all this is boring, too. Sigh.

I'm calling it post-conference stress disorder. If it's not a real syndrome it should be. I don't know about anyone else, but the weekend was such a high for me. It was so nice to talk to people who know what the hell I'm talking about when I mention protagonists, villains, drafts and revisions. People who look at everything that happens and think, this would make a great story. People who chat about murder, bodies and autopsies over dinner without even flinching. My kind of people. This was the first conference where I felt like a "real writer" and not someone pretending to be one. I loved every minute of it.

At home after the conference, my family listened with interest--for about ten minutes. Then everyone wanted to tell me what they did while I was gone. I was back to mom and wife mode. Not a bad thing, but it was nice being a writer and nothing else, even temporarily.

Then on Monday it was back to work. I tried to tell the guys about the conference but all they were concerned about was how much overtime they were going to get working the new traffic detail where the railroad is replacing the tracks. I went back to my office where I could daydream about my next scene.

At least I had my book to work on this week. I could put to good use everything I learned at the conference. I'm itching to get it finished so I can start on the revisions and try Hallie Ephron's tips.

So, anyone who has been to a conference--either Pennwriters or another one--tell us about your experience. Did you suffer from post-conference stress disorder? How did you deal with the aftermath of real life? Who else is already planning for the next one?

GONE FISHING

by Gina Sestak



Every other Saturday since last summer I've been blogging about the many jobs I've held. Most recently, I blogged about my present job -- attorney for an electric utility -- and my decision to accept an early retirement offer.


Today, it's my turn again. I had planned to write about dealing with vampires (selling blood plasma), or editing dissertations, or traveling to remote county courts to present motions, or taking inventory in stores, but the fact is that I've run out of time. My dial-up connection must have realized that I'll soon be getting broadband and, in retaliation, is acting out. Today it's very, v e r y s l o w. It is also disconnecting me from the internet repeatedly, which means I have to (very slowly) sign on again and again.


I have to leave early this morning because there's this writers' conference I'm attending, and I have an appointment with a potential agent. It's hard to sell a fiction book without an agent, and I have five completed manuscripts just cluttering up my writing space. I'm trying not to be too hopeful, but you can't succeed unless you try, and you can't try if you don't make it to the appointment on time. So here I go, into yet another career -- fiction writer. Like an old time shopkeeper, I am closing up this blog entry for the day and putting out a sign, "Gone Fishing." With a little luck, I just might catch an agent.