Move It!

Whenever a group of writers get together the subject is bound to come up in the conversation.  I can’t say I’m surprised; they’re hard and make your legs turn to Jell-O, who wouldn’t want to talk about them?  Of course, I’m talking about treadmill desks.  These fabulous inventions have become popular recently to fight the occurrence of writer butt spread—terrible disease that it is.  I’ve been on a health kick for the past few months and one thing I’ve been trying is the treadmill desk.

When I first asked Mr. Alpha Male to build me a desk to go over the treadmill, I think he was envisioning some large contraption that would fill half the bonus room.  After much discussion of the design, we settled on a small sleek space to sit either of our laptops on the front handle of the treadmill.  This way it can be easily removed and put away when not in use.  He built mine out of poplar with a walnut finish, but I’ve seen different versions, one even using a wicker breakfast tray held together with bungee cords.  So, even if you don’t know someone with the hobby of wood working, a treadmill desk is a great option for anyone who spends a large amount of time in front of their computer.

After using the treadmill desk for a few months now, I’ve discovered a few things…

1. You can’t jog or the keyboard gets too jumpy to be able to type.  I recommend speed walking.

2. It’s hard to channel your muse and write something brilliant while speed walking.  When I decided to try this idea, I thought I would be able to write my manuscript and simultaneously drop 10 pounds—not so.  What I can do is write a blog entry, write an email, update all of my social media or critique a manuscript for one of the #CRWbadgirlz.  All of these things need to be done, so it’s definitely of value.

3. It’s amazing how fast 45 minutes passes when you’re reading a great manuscript or writing your thoughts on life.

4. It’s amazing how much you can get done in 45 minutes when you’re chained to your laptop walking in place.

5. I might just fit in those skinny jeans by this fall.

I’ll summarize by saying I love my treadmill desk, so thank you to Mr. Alpha Male for building it for me.  What crazy things have you tried in order to fit exercise into your life?

Feed Me, Seymour!

Trish Milburn and Tanya Michaels were the distinguished guest speakers at our last Carolina Romance Writers meeting. Each did an awesome workshop; one on the Three Pronged Approach to Publishing, the other sent us to Military School for our Unruly Muse - respectively.

You know the workshops are great when you’re still thinking about them days later. One thing still on my mind is what Tanya said about (paraphrasing here) feeding our muse. Not simply reading books in our genre, but how do we feed our muse via other mediums?

It’s obvious to me when my muse is starving to death or even a little peckish. He becomes a grumpy cuss that sits on his jean clad ass and won’t lift a life roughened finger to help me. He will, however, give me the bird. He’ll behave when I dive into contemporary and paranormal romances, contain his manliest snort (that’s saved for when I read my historicals and tear jerkers), but these dishes aren’t enough to satisfy him. My muse wants something he can sink his teeth into. He insists that somebody, somewhere blow something up, commit espionage, kidnap, extort, double cross, and generally do bad things. Then the good guys must show up and fight/shoot /drive fast/blow things up too. Finally, all the bad things come back to kick the bad guys in the kahunas or everything falls apart and ends in chaos. THAT is what feeds my muse. Movies - Spy, Action, Suspense, Adventure, High Stakes, and the like.

I’m not necessarily talking about the summer’s most expensive blockbuster (though sometimes it does the trick), but the smaller name movies that kick ass. The Mechanic, Snatch (and almost anything with Jason Statham or directed by Guy Ritchie), Contraband, Eastern Promises, Bourne anything, whatever Christopher Nolan touches, and … you get the idea. If I can find one of these movies on a semi-regular basis, fresh ideas come to me. Heroes come to me. My muse stops with the stoic routine and starts plotting ways to wreak havoc. All is awesome in the gray matter and playing field of my pretend world.

A friend and co-writer once said of my writing “No matter what, I know somebody somewhere has a gun. Even if they never have to use it, it’s there.” If I’m honest, I probably have my father to blame for this. He started me on a diet of action movies at the ripe old age of nine. Mom wasn’t into shoot ‘em ups, so why not take the daughter?!

I love him for it though. And my muse thanks him!