In Which the Sky is Falling, and I Do Not Make a Good Chicken Little

*gasps and comes up for air all melodramatically*

HAI GUYS!  DIDJA MISS ME?

Well okay, so I last posted last week so its entirely possible that nobody even noticed I was gone, since like, its all relative yo.  But I felt like I was gone forever, because drama has an Einsteinian (sp? real word?  whatever) effect on the time/space continuum and turns a week into

OMGFOREVERIFUNIVERSEDOESNTSTOPBEINGABITCHIMCOMMITTINGSEPPUKU.

Sorry.  In case you haven't gathered yet, its been a long week.

So I have a ton of stuff to share, some exciting, some not so exciting, some positively reeking of mundanity.  So we're going to space that out.  First of all, my thanks to everyone who took a chance on my little CP Auction Blogfest, and I'm really sorry it didn't work out the way we hoped.  I'll have another post on that later in the week, examining what I think I could have done differently and asking for input on how to tweak things and get more people involved for next time, because I'm totally going to try again.  One wise soul suggested hosting it again right after NaNoWriMo, and I think she might be one of those freaky genius type people.  Because holy smokes that's a good idea.

In other news, the last couple weeks have seen me absolutely swamped with auditions which I will never ever complain about.  However, something to consider, and expect a writing related post on this later as well, as it applies there too - don't bite off more than you can chew.  Which I umm, do a lot.  So for instance, when I did four dance auditions in a span of two weeks (yeah I dance too, mostly hip hop, music videos stuff, got a little contemporary and jazz training too), its kinda me hedging my bets, because you never expect to land all of them.  But when you land say, three of the four music videos and have back to back nonstop rehearsals and multi-day shoots on three music videos crammed into one week, the end result is a LOT OF PAIN.   And sore muscles galore.  And oh dear god, my feet, they may never work again.  But they'll have to, because I also booked a major role in an indie movie shooting in two weeks and have been auditioning fairly regularly now for a producer of not one, but two major genre shows, and hoping that'll lead to something big so fingers crossed!

Also have cover art to show off for Anonymous - remember the Great Grassroots Novel Experiment I spoke of awhile back?  Well it's still in the works, trying to work out the best time table for it as of course part of its purpose is figuring out how to best capitalize on web presence and build buzz, but I do have pretty pictures for it, and absolutely no will power whatsoever, so I'm most likely going to be caving and sharing that soon.

Now, as to the title of this post and the big reason for my absence and drama in the past week - I fear, dear friends, that I have fallen victim to the Great and Dreaded Writersbane.  That which every author fears.  The terror that lurks beneath every laptop.

Yes.  I speak of....

THE COMPUTER VIRUS.

I can practically feel your hearts sink for me as you read those words, because like me, you all know what that means, and instantly imagine the worst.  And oh, it was bad.  It was very bad.  I shelled out the money for a new computer pretty quickly once they determined it'd be cheaper than salvaging mine.  But that was the easy part.  (Hah!)  Then came the part that makes us gnash our teeth and pull our hair.

Seeing what we lost.

Fortunately, this isn't my first encounter with the Great and Terrible Computer Death, so I was somewhat prepared.  I had a lot backed up, and much else stored via emails and on various spots on the web.  But not having a single central back up location online, I have spent the past week scurrying thither and hither about the vast internets, scouring old online journals, boards and email communications for the various drafts of my completed manuscripts and my many, MANY works in progress.  It's still underway, and will take some major reconstructive surgery to match the most recent versions of each MS (I have half the final draft for this MS in this email for instance, and what I'm pretty sure is the last three chapters of the final draft of it on this LJ, etc), but it'll be okay, ultimately.  It's the WIPs that suffered the most.  I have so many, and am so neurotic about sending people stuff when I'm not sure it'll ultimately go anywhere, that some just never made it online, and I really don't know if I'll ever be able to recover them.  Sigh.  Oh well.  The good ones live on in my head with enough urgency that I'll get around to them eventually, and the bad ones, well, if I can't remember them well enough to recover them, perhaps they aren't the best use of my time anyways?  C'est la vie.

But in positive thinking mode, I did discover something about myself while wading through the nigh infinite amounts of crap I've written over the years.  I'm a writer, y'all!

I know, you're all like, uh, no shit, genius. 

But no, its like this!  I'm not actually that stupid kid who writes shit thinking it'll never amount to anything and he'll never be as good as the stuff publishing in bookstores anymore.  I'm REALLY neurotic about my old stuff, because frankly, I don't think its that good.  Even a complete novel I queried with and think is a solid MS, polished as best I can make it, and tells a story worth telling - I hate showing that to people.  Which is weird right?  If I think its good enough to show an agent, I should have no problem showing it to people.  But the thing is, while its the best I could write then, and the best I could polish it since then, its nothing compared to what I could write now - but short of rewriting it from scratch, that's not going to change.  And even though it has agent interest as is, I might end up doing that ultimately anyways because otherwise I'll just never be happy with it.  BUT I DIGRESS!

Point is, that was then.  I was just shaping up a chapter of my current WIP, Midnight Oil (formerly called GILT) to send off to a CP, and I realized, huh.  I really like this.  I think its good.  I actually can't WAIT to hear what she thinks about it!

....does this mean...have I GROWN?

I think it is entirely possible that I have.  As a person, as a writer, both....I'm very bemused by it.

So some thoughts for you all, if you care to share:

Have you ever had that epiphany where you realized you've actually grown as a writer, in a visible, measureable way? 

Or where were you when you realized hey, this might not just be a pipedream.  I might actually be a writer who writes and y'know, does stuff with it.

And if you want to share your own horror stories of the COMPUTER VIRUS and reassure me that ITS NOT THAT BAD and REALLY, IT GETS BETTER, I would probably be most happy to hear them.  Most happy.

And finally, along the lines of what I was talking about last week, before the sky fell and everything, anyone have any questions about the acting industry that they've always wondered about and would be interested in hearing me talk about?  The audition process, stunt work, Are There Actually Fancy Parties Where You Schmooze with Agents and Famous People, or Tips on Making Out with a Total Stranger On Camera and Pretending This is Actually Sexy (But definitely not Porn!)....I'm actually a little curious to hear what people might be curious about, because all my friends are actors and industry people and we're distressingly jaded, so....make of that what you will.

And now I think I've vomited all over your Google Readers enough for one day, so back to my regularly scheduled tweeting!

OH YEAH!  I TWEET NOW!  FOLLOW ME AT @kalenodonnell AND I'LL TOTES FOLLOW YOU BACK.

Okay.  Now I'm done.