Wednesday, April 20, 2011


I like my comfort zone. A LOT.

It's a safe, cozy place where each morning begins with a steaming bowl of Quaker Weight Control maple & brown sugar instant oatmeal (add sliced strawberries and a fistful of black or blueberries for good measure) topped off with a lightly-freckled banana to be eaten in hand-torn pieces, not ripped into like a caveman with a drumstick, and a glass of Cranberry/Blueberry Ocean Spray 100% juice on the side.

What my comfort zone is NOT, is a dormitory for a discontented seventeen-year-old angel trying to earn her wings.

And THAT, my blogging friends, is the problem. My current WIP is so far out of my comfort zone I can actually feel my pulse quicken the very moment I sit down at the computer. Don't get me wrong--I'm wickedly excited about this story, but how on earth do you venture from the safety of your contemporary comfort zone into the scary world of make believe?
I decided to ask a few of my favorite TV personalities how they would adapt to such a predicament. Here's what they had to say:


"Adapt? Pffffff. Well, that's a stupid question. Adapt? Adapt to what? I'm flexible. I don't need to adapt to anything. In fact...I'm so adaptable I'm down right breezy! All the time. Adapt. Adapt. That's me! No comfort zones here. I'm open to the world, baby! I'm...hang on...Dammit, Rachel! The dish towels won't fold themselves into 3x3" squares. God, woman were you raised by wolves?! I'm sorry...where were we?"

SHELDON COOPER: "That's doctor Sheldon Cooper, and your question is riddled with so many external variants, there's no way to hypothesize how one might respond. For example, if I were to ask you if in 1943 one Oswald Avery would have had the intellectual wherewithal to determine that destruction of deoxyribonucleic acid would hinder transformation of the virtulent pneumonia without the precursory work of the great Frederick Griffith...well, I think you can see where this is heading.


Marley: "Why would you ask that?

Lindsay: "Yeah, why would you ask that? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Marley: "Did someone say I wasn't adaptable? Someone did. Who said it? Was it Christine?"

Lindsay: "I bet it was. It was Christine. I'll rip her head off and shove it in my bag."

Marley: "That's a cute bag."

Lindsay: "Thank you. The nanny picked it up."

Marley: "Cinco finger discount?"

Lindsay: "Shut up." (uncomfortable silence). "Yeah. She found a little Coach shop in Tijuana. Me gusta Lupe!"

Marley: "I'm sorry Rookie Riter, you asked me something but I was so distracted by your hideous sweater that I forgot what it was."

Lindsay: "Yeah. Your sweater is ugly."

Marley: "You have that sweater."

DRAT! It looks like the Rookie Riter still needs advice. Got any???