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Pamela Fagan Hutchins | My motivational speech to my procrastinating fellow Nano.

Whiter. Scarier. Redder eyes. But other than that, just like this one.

Before you read this post, don’t forget: With every EMAIL subscription to Road to Joy in November, you will receive a free e-book of my (multiple) award winning debut novel, Leaving Annalise.  If you are already a subscriber and want a copy, I’m a softie so please email me:  If you are not yet a subscriber, well, don’t just sit there playing with yourself (I swear my father still says this to my brother and me), enter your email over on the right hand column of this screen.  Then forward me your final confirmation or the first Road to Joy email you receive, and I will email you the book.

Warning Will Robinson: this post and especially the comments that follow are examples of purposefully bad writing by punch drunk, exhausted writers.  Will you find them amusing or annoying?  I don’t know, but I certainly don’t hold a gun to your head ordering you to read.  So, proceed at your own risk and volition. Some readers are begging us to continue, and others hate it.  Either reaction is fine with me.  It’s a free country, after all. 😉 Go read a serious post if that is more to your taste, like Wasted Days and Wasted Nights, The End is the Beginning, or Confessions of a Guilt Stricken Mom.  The Road to Joy, like the world, is multi-dimensional.  It’s all good.

Have I mentioned it is Nanowrimo month?  A lot of my writer-y friends are doing it, I’m doing it, and the pace is fast and furious.  Around Nano time, there’s a lot of eating, stalling, procrastinating, and yep, whining from us writers. :)

So I offered the following motivational speech to my friend and Nano Buddy Heidi Dorey, and it worked so well, both as a procrastination technique for me, and a time waster for her, that we thought we’d share.  Note: this is satire and intentionally really really awful writing.

She sent me an email something like this:

Dear Pamela:

I sucked today.  Shoot me if I don’t write more tomorrow.  Can you send me something motivational?



I responded something like this:

Dear Heidi:

If you don’t get off your ass and have a great day tomorrow, a pack of gremlins will visit you in the  night and cut off all your hair into unsightly ragged pieces with fuzzy scraggles, bald patches, and one giant long section hanging off your right temple like a misplaced soul patch.  Your husband will wake up, and he will scream so loud when he sees you that he will go into a drooling catatonic shock, and you move him into a nursing home that very day because the drooling shit gets old fast.

But then a giant white bunny rabbit with red evil eyes that looks surprisingly like a fluffy rabbit you had written about, but then, sigh, quit on after three chapters, appears on your front door step.  He tells you that if you will get off your ass and finish Nanowrimo, you can have two but only two out of the following three things:  your husband will come home, your hair will grow back, you’ll win the lottery of $1 million.

Excited about winning the lottery and having really great hair, you pick them.  Your husband calls, pissed off because he’s not drooling anymore and can’t figure out why you put him in a nursing home in the first place and you speak to him in Japanese and pretend like he dialed the wrong number.  You stroke your long beautiful hair and plan how you’ll spend your money while you type an email to the nursing home asking them to up his meds.  You write 7,000 words a day, and your book becomes a best seller and the rabbit delivers the cash as promised, but then the rabbit turns into your husband, only hairier, and goes all mad ninja on you.  When you explain that you did it for him to get the money to buy him a bass boat, he relents and you live happily ever after.

And you NEVER flake out on Nanowrimo again.



So, how’d I do on my motivational message?  Want to give it a try in the comments?  Motivate Heidi and the rest of us Nanos to pump out the words.  We would greatly appreciate the help.


p.s. What is truly amazing is how many words a day I waste on blog posts and emails like this, when I am ostensibly rewriting one novel and participating in Nanowrimo to write another.  Speed-typing class in high school paid off!

p.p.s.  Upon re-read I’ve decided my motivational speech actually reads like a super-awesome query letter.

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47 Responses to My motivational speech to my procrastinating fellow Nano.

  1. LBDDiaries says:

    *Yawn* – oh, I’m sorry, did you say something?? Bwahahahaha. The Writer’s Worst Nightmare – people don’t “hear” or read them. And you want to know the number one reason why they don’t get heard or read? THEY DON’T WRITE. And then you know what will happen? Huh? Huh? Well I’ll tell you what will happen! “I’ll get you, my pretty! And your little dog too!” And worse?? You know what that means? That line means, “A statement that not only will the person being addressed be punished but their conspirators will also.” So that means YOU, too, Heidi!!!

    Now get out there and WRITE!! Or else.

    • Pamela says:

      If I don’t write, it’s all Heidi’s fault, so skip me and get her.

    • Heidi Dorey says:

      She called you pretty and called me a dog.
      I’m sooo motivated now.

      Hahaha! You’re right, though.
      I’m getting on it….as soon as I read more of this blog.
      Then I’m all over it.

  2. ridgely says:

    Dear procrastinating writers-
    you have no right taking the procrastinating title away from me. I am older- give it back. If you don’t start writing, you will hope it was the rabbit that landed on your stoop. If I come visit, and begin rattling, prattling, chattling (hey, it needed to be a -ling word) in your ear, you may pray for a blank screen, empty brain, and dull moment. Think water torture treatment, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip. Are your fingers moving toward that keyboard? I think I detect a little movement. Hey, just words, who said the words had to make sense. Save the ‘words that make sense’ for your blogs and award winning fiction. Now I just want you to stop sitting on your hands, or eating or whatever in the hell you are doing and start typing. I am just but a faucet away-
    Remember I am older, too
    yours truly,

    • Pamela says:

      Ooooh, water torture, nice one, Ridgley. Now, see, I’d be writing if I wasn’t out here cooping my blog. Darn. Headed back to Word. Katie is currently trapped in a car with a wicked police officer and an old crazy guy while Nick is missing, and I have to save them both.

  3. Heidi Dorey says:

    Here, I’ll contribute.

    Get to clickity-clacking or every time you stop to do non-writing things,
    a big super sweaty fat man will rub his hairy sweaty belly on you.
    And if that doesn’t motivate you, then he’ll wipe his mucous on your cheek.
    Or maybe he’ll stand right beside you making super wet armpit farts in your ear.
    As long as those fingers are moving, he goes back to eating his Doritos
    and scratching his butt crack.

    • Pamela says:

      Oh Heidi
      That was poetic.
      These things really rattle around in your head, don’t they?
      Maybe that’s the reason Kim went into his drooling catatonic fit.
      He was screaming, but it was “Stop, Heidi, stop,” only you didn’t, and well, the rest ended with bad Japanese over a staticky cell phone connection.
      No rabbit.

  4. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Ann Brennan and PamelaFaganHutchins, PamelaFaganHutchins. PamelaFaganHutchins said: My motivational speech to my procrastinating fellow Nano. […]

  5. I got nuthin……….but I’m not a famous writer like you people. Just dropping by to LAUGH MY ASS OFF. Funny funny stuff. Yea, that’s why I hang out here.

    1. Pamela’s “Your husband calls, pissed off because he’s not drooling anymore and can’t figure out why you put him in a nursing home” and Heidi’s “As long as those fingers are moving, he goes back to eating his Doritos and scratching his butt crack.”………stitches, I tell ya’s.

    You girls have SOME fun! Keep it up.


    • Pamela says:

      :) Heidi is twisted. I can’t believe she put her husband in a nursing home.

      • Heidi Dorey says:

        Nice. I’m gonna name the villain in my story Pamela.
        She’s a hunchback with lots of hairy moles.
        And she passes loads of gasssssssss, especially when she laughs her evil laugh.

        Say, you posted that on 11/11 at 11:11.
        Did you make a wish?

        • Pamela says:

          Oh, who needs friends when you’ve got Heidi.

          Well, in MY book, I named my *heroine* Heidi. She is queen of the mountain trolls. Actually, even though the trolls call her a queen, it’s an elected position. It goes to the troll with the most warts. Heidi wins hands down, as she has warts on her warts, which are covered in warts.

          Queen Heidi has a secret problem. The mountain trolls must guard the river bridge in the valley and rip off the heads of all passing humans, and gobble them up. But Heidi doesn’t like the taste of humans. She can’t admit this or she will be cast out of the kingdom of mountain trolls as a pansy. And there is nothing, nothing, nothing worse than a troll pansy.

          So she hides in her cave, pretending to gobble humans, while she actually stuffs her face with moon pies, ding dongs, double stuffed oreos, and an occasional twinkie, just to remind herself that she likes chocolate better. She gets so excited when she eats the moon pies that she then calls for her young troll man-servants to service her needs.

          That’s as far as I’ve gotten, but I’m dumping Grace and writing Heidi now.

          I’m calling it: Heinous Heidi the Horrible.
          It was either that or Humping Heidi.

          I’m about 750 words into the first chapter.

          • Heidi Dorey says:

            Oh…it’s on.

            Pamela sat in her lair mumbling to herself and popping her butt zits.
            It’s hard to make friends when you’re a villain…and you smell of road kill and burnt pubes.

            “Floognerm, get in here!” she shouted.

            When her devoted minion scuttled to her side, she grabbed his shirtsleeve and farted on him.
            He coughed and tried to wave away the oily cloud that clung to him.
            “Well?” she said.

            “Yes, madam. That was very good. I’d say that was a solid eight.”

            Her gravelly man-laugh echoed through the lair. “You got one thing right, Floognerm.
            There was definitely something solid in it.”
            She smiled proudly at her minion, showing off her five teeth.
            Six if you count the cashew-like object wedged between them.

            “Um, yes, madam. Did you finish your plans to take over the mountain trolls?
            Queen Heidi is not to be trifled with. She eats human heads after all. I would hate to see you–”

            Pamela leaned her head back and belched the alphabet.
            Well, most of the alphabet. She got to ‘P’, forgot the rest, and sat there drooling.

            “That was fantastic, madam. But I think we should discuss the trolls now.”

            Pamela kicked her minion in the face and peeled herself away from the chair.
            “Heidi is a moon pie eating pansy, Floognerm! She couldn’t handle me
            any more than I can shave my own back!”

            She peeled a scab from her armpit and smelled it
            as she contemplated her next move. Starting a war
            with the mountain trolls would be dangerous,
            but Pamela’s passion to have power over everyone on the planet could not be pacified.
            And neither could her taste for scabs.

            Bring it…

  6. Pamela says:

    Hey, anyone else feel free to jump in here. If you’ve read my stuff, you know I am severely handicapped when it comes to this game. I’M NOT GROSS LIKE HEIDI. I’m a sweet ball of fluff!!!!!

    That being said, I will not back down. (Lord, somebody help me)

    I just have to go pick up a kid in the meantime.

    Note: those are the 279 best words I’ve ever seen Heidi write. :)

    Soon, Heidi, I shall be back with claws sharpened and fangs bared.

  7. Heidi Dorey says:

    Yeah, maybe an agent will drop by and see how awesome we are at writing.

  8. Pamela says:

    OK, bringing it.

    MEANWHILE, BACK ON MOUNT CHOCULA, Queen Heidi rolled off her latest conquest. Ugh, this one appeared as dead as the last three this week. Unfortunately, between her corpulence and dangling neck warts, the mantrolls stood no chance. Certain asphyxiation awaited them at the moment Queen Heidi would stuff a final Moon Pie into her mouth, throw herself prostrate, and collapse in writhing ecstasy.

    She ushered her ladies in waiting in to drag his corpse out of her lair. Dead mantrolls in her cave were worse than the Moon Pie crumbs in her bed. Well, at least this way, no one bore witness to her weakness. No pansy troll would they call HER.

    Just then, she heard a knock at her door. She rearranged the collar of warts below her chin. “Come in,” she bellowed.

    In slithered the two-faced Floognerm.

    “Well, did you manage to taunt that putrefying Pamela as planned, my puny partner in puerile pursuits?” she purred.

    “Yes, my lady, my Queen. And tell me again what you will do for me when Pamela plays into your plucky plot?” Floognerm managed to wriggle closer to Queen Heidi as he said these words. He tried to hide it, but he longed to run his fingers through the necklace of warts above her heaving chest.

    “I will make you Grand Lord of Pamela’s kingdom, subject only to me, and when I feed her to my mantrolls — who definitely need the protein — you will never have to watch her eat scabs, shave her back, wipe her pimple pus from your face, or smell her nasty farts again!!!!!”

    Floognerm grew more and more excited at this pronouncement and prognostication and he practically prattled as he pranced and preened, “Yippee! Yippee! Yippee!”

    “Go back to her now, and commence with our plans, Floogy.”

    “Yes, Queen Heidi. Of course. But may I ask for one favor?”

    “Possibly, Floogy, possibly.”

    “Can you start calling me Grant Master Floognerm the Magnificent? I really hate the name Floogy.”

    “BE GONE FROM MY SIGHT,” screamed Queen Heidi, as her craving for mantroll and Moon Pie surged over her and drove her senseless and sort of insane.

    • Heidi Dorey says:

      Floognerm tiptoed back through Pamela’s lair, carefully stepping over her crusty undergarments.
      One loud crackle and she’d learn of his late night, traitorous escapades.
      But he forgot she had tried for hours to launch loogies onto to her cat.
      He slipped and fell into a puddle of cold mucous.

      “Flooooog-nerrmmmm? Is that you?” Pamela called from down the hall.

      He lifted his face from the goo. “Um, yes, madam. I was just getting some food.”

      The lights in the room clicked on. Pamela wore her favorite pajamas – an old matted wig,
      a t-shirt with two holes cut out so her sagging breasts could wave freely,
      a diaper, and combat boots that were two sizes too big.

      “Do you think I am stupid, Floognerm?” she said, belching the whole sentence.

      Floognerm became frightened and stammered through the web of mucous across his mouth.
      Pamela clomped across the room and seized the back of his neck pressing him to her.

      “Hang on, Floognerm. You’ll get through this,” he thought as the hot acidy air
      flapped out from between her flaccid, rippling backside and
      pounded into his head like a jackhammer of putrescence.
      He was immensely grateful that some of it escaped out her front butt.
      He might not have lived through it otherwise.

      Pamela released her grip on him and he fell to his knees gasping for air.
      “So here’s what you are gonna do, Floognerm.”
      She opened the large red case that held her collection of dingle berries and pulled out a fresh moon pie.
      “I suppose you already know Heidi’s weakness for moon pies.”
      She handed Floognerm the pie and ran her ape like hand through her greasy hair.
      “This one is poisoned. Feed this to her and get us into Troll Mountain. Don’t fail me!”

      Looking wildly triumphant, she twirled her both breasts like helicopter blades. “I will prevail!!”

  9. Buddy says:

    Very amusing… you should write a graphic novel together. Then again, from what I am reading, you already are. Perhaps a screenplay?

  10. Buddy says:

    Wow… who picked my avatar? It is a great likeness.

  11. LBDDiaries says:

    Now see? I was thinking you should pay attention to DETAILS, Queen Heidi oh high priestess of the mountain trolls, because I would never call you a dog? You are a conspirator. I would tremble in fear to dare address your trollness as a canine. I have already been shaking in fear of fartblasting from the person-being-addressed-who-shall-not-be-named. I would never dare to dream of anything but prostrating myself at the feet of the greatness spewing out of keyboards and wicked minds of the both of you. I bow to your amazing talent and ability. I beg you both – please do not stop in mid-story. Your humble servants and lowly followers await, breathless, at the mere keystroke brilliance yet to come forth!

  12. Pamela says:

    Yeah, well, I couldn’t focus on my women’s fiction masterpiece until I got THIS out of the way:

    Grand Master Floognerm the Magnificent, as he now called himself, scampered back into Queen Heidi’s lair late that same night, hoping to catch a glimpse of his enamorata a la naturel. No luck. But he did chance upon her as she lay sleeping, her bloated torso heaving up and down as her lungs worked overtime to benchpress the mass of flesh and warts with each breath.

    GMFM mulled his options. He would sooner eat the Moon Pie and asphyxiated by his own vomit than see the luscious Queen Heidi drown in hers. Should he snarf the goodie now, and spare her the undoubted horror of witnessing his death throes? Or might he just nestle his nostrils one time in the nubby nethers of her neck?

    He tiptoed closer, intent upon his heart’s desire, when a crazy high-pitched scream echoed through the cave. Queen Heidi snorted, then returned to snuffling. GMFM quaked. What was that? Now an increasingly loud thump, thump, thump sound filled his ears.

    In the light of the firepit, red eyes glared at him, topped with two ginormously long ears and surrounded by a ghostly whiteness of…fluffy soft fur?

    GMFM realized with terror he stared into the very specter of evil itself, the feared and revered but rarely seen Nob the Killer Rabbit. He wet himself, whimpered, and fainted, his weasly body crumpling into the pool of his own urine. He had not the luxury of long slumber, however, as Nob kicked the snot out of GMFM (literally) with his powerful hocks. Ain’t nothing as painful as a double bunny kick pummeling.

    “Who goes there?” Queen Heidi rumbled in her dulcet tones.

    The bunny and the two-faced sidekick locked eyes with each other, both silent as…..a….

    • Heidi Dorey says:

      …mouse fart.

      The killer bunny sneered at GMFM and dug his hind claws
      deep into the dirt readying himself for his next attack.
      Trolls heard the ruckus and charged into the Queen’s bedchamber.
      The Queen, now awake, rocked back and forth until she could
      get the inertia to roll out of bed. When she finally made it to her feet,
      a dead troll fell out from between her folds of flesh.

      “I demand to know what’s going on here!” she said.

      Nob the Killer Bunny swiped his deadly claws at GMFM,
      almost cutting his face. GMFM loved his troll queen,
      but he wished to live another day, so he bolted outta there.
      The evil bunny did not give chase; he came there for the Queen and her trolls.

      Meanwhile at the lair…Pamela molded the fresh kitty poo
      into dolphin-shaped statues she planned to give out as Christmas gifts,
      unaware that her plan to overthrow Heidi failed. GMFM stumbled into the room.

      “Madam! Madam, everything… went wrong. Nob, the evil…bunny…”
      He passed out from running.

      “Floognerm, get up. Nob is a myth. Floognerm?”

      When she realized GMFM was serious,
      she threw off her sombrero and clown shoes (the only thing she wore) and ran to him.
      She shook his limp body.

      “How could you fail me? It was the perfect plan!” After getting no response,
      she dropped him back to the floor and wiped the accumulating sweat from under her boobs.

      “Awrak-dan-burach, get in here! Bring my MC Hammer pants and the cicadas! Now!”
      Pamela was mighty pissed so she did what she always did when she was this angry.

      Her servant Awrak-dan-burach waddled in with her things.
      When he opened his mouth to greet her, she spit in it.
      He reluctantly swallowed and tried not to gag.
      “Oh, thank you, miss.”

      She pulled on her MC Hammer pants and poured the bucket of cicadas down them.
      Pamela was now ready to do battle. As she twisted the tuft of chest hair
      between her man-fingers, she said,
      “The Queen is going down…tonight! Those trolls will have a new Master!”

  13. Heidi Milton says:

    Look at all the fun I missed today while procrastinating on my own NaNo…oops, I meant WORKING!!! Shit, put all your words together and y’all are DONE! Nice job, ladies. :) Feel like I just read some horrible knock-off of the Lord of the Rings or something. I’m motivated now, so, thanks!

  14. Leah says:

    wow. i was torn between laughing, crying, and wanting to vomit. You guys are truly talented, even if it is totally disgusting! I have known Heidi Bo Beidi for many years and nothing she writes shocks me. Being her childhood friend actually scarred me for life. Once again, kudos to you guys – I love the story, don’t stop!

  15. Heidi Dorey says:

    You should be impressed.
    It’s HARD to be this awesome on the fly.

  16. Leah says:

    ur an awesome fly, what?

  17. Dead mantrolls in the cave…….moon pies……..twirling helicopter blade breasts. Yeah, I’m gonna sleep good tonight.

    So much fun reading this craziness today! Thanks ladies.

    Nite Floognerm.

  18. Irene says:

    I’ll never look at a rabbit the same way again.

    Remind me not to ask Pam for a motivational email. If they’re anything like this, I’ll never sleep again!

  19. you guys have to stop. laughing this hard is not advisable for one who just had abdominal surgery! tears are rolling down my face!!!

  20. Ally says:

    Oh my – this is TOO funny! But I have to say… if there were a contest on procrastinating, you have MASTERED it! But procrastinating on writing by… writing. Hmmm, there something deliciously twisted about that!

  21. Pamela says:

    OK, I am back in the sanctuary of my Conceding Grace/women’s fiction world, so I am writing the ending, and this will be quick!


    And then Pameleidi woke up. Her alarm blared Meatloaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light”. She reached up and felt of her hair, remembering a series of bad dreams. In the first dream, gremlins hacked it off. Then, it magically grew back but even longer and silkier after she made a deal with an evil bunny. It felt normal now, medium-length and wavy.

    The second dream was worse than the first. She touched her neck, relieved to find smooth skin instead of warts. She exhaled for several long beats then swung her legs out of bed.

    “Honey? Where are you?” she said. Her husband must be downstairs making coffee. She walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and faced the mirror.

    A smushed, half-eaten Moon Pie clung to her nightgown. She grabbed the bathroom counter as her legs buckled under her. Dreams, they were only dreams. Well, nightmares, really, but they weren’t real. She practiced the self-soothing her anger management therapist had taught her, counting slowly to 10 and telling herself that everything was fine, she was fine.

    She walked back into her bedroom. She would get ready quickly. She needed to write 17,000 words today to catch up with the Nanowrimo schedule. Entering her closet to grab an outfit, she glanced back at the master bed.

    She almost didn’t see him at first. The Moon Pie wrappers obscured most of the view of her husband. Her very still, very recently deceased husband.

    The End

  22. Rhonda says:

    Wow. I read this hoping to glean some motivation. Well, my writing motivations is still suffering, but I’m HIGHLY motivated to read any comments made by Heidi Dorey. I’m laughing out loud, making strange faces, causing my kids to not-so-subtly come see what’s on my computer screen. To make it more fun, I move it where they can’t see. LOL
    I may not reach 50,000 words this month, but I’m pretty sure I’ll hit that many laughs! Kudos!

  23. Rhonda says:

    BAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I just went back to read some more! Humping Heidi…..Pamela, Heidi, how do you guys come up with this stuff? I can’t stop laughing!

  24. Rhonda says:

    P.S. Pamela, remember your book made me cry the other day? Well now you can add a vomit reaction. I can’t handle mucous, or even the suggestion of it.
    That said, this whole thing is very entertaining. And dare I say that the twisted Heidi is rubbing off on you? And the alliteration is a nice touch!
    Still can’t stop laughing.

  25. Buddy says:

    Ok… The blog was pretty good before… but NOW I have something that speaks to me! Keep it up!

  26. Heidi Dorey says:

    Thank you, Rhonda.
    It is sad that our Mind Vomit Story Battle had to come to an end.
    Perhaps we can resurrect it after NaNo (up to Pamela).

    Thanks to you, Pamela, for sharing your
    peaceful place for this “motivational” segment.

    I had a blast!

    My friend just read the end and she’s
    really upset that the husband dies at the end. Haaa!

  27. Leah says:

    Yes, I was upset he died. Especially by Moon Pie wrappers…poor guy.
    Y’all should continue the tag team writing – I love it!

    • Pamela says:

      Thanks Leah. I’ve read about you before :)
      Yes, Heidi and I have in mind a little more structured tag team writing. Humor writing, still, but more structured and less mind vomity. Altho mind vomity is fun and funny.

      I’m sorry about the dead husband thing. I worried about it too, but I was actually spoofing Heidi in The Contract on the ending, going more for a “Heidi as Stephen King” ending. :)

  28. […] my. and who challenged me to a tag-team authoring war of grossness and silliness in the comments to A Motivational Speech to my Procrastinating Fellow Nano. Oh yeah, and she’s an esthetician.  So listen up, she knows her skin care; see her other […]

  29. […] want to talk about it.  I never claimed I was a role model.  All I have to say is that it’s Heidi Dorey’s fault. I’m taking a break from blogging for awhile, pulling myself back together, focusing on my […]

  30. […] boogie shoes. Uh. And boogie with you. By Pamela, on March 7th, 2011 My long lost writer friend Heidi Dorey (where art thou, Heidi, and why has thou not contributed a post of late?  make haste, dear friend, […]

  31. […] IRL.  Does it count if you meet through a surrogate?  Cuz I got have dinner with the mamacita of Heidi Dorey, […]

  32. […] with Heidi Dorey. She doubles as my cover artist, and in her other life she is also a writer, a sick puppy, a library goddess, and esthetician. You may have even read some of her awesomeness before, here on […]

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