Celia Rivenbark has a great guest post here about Fighting the Green-Eyed Monster that describes how I feel once in a while when I let my amygdala (the caveman brain) do the leading instead of the hippocampus (the developed brain). I’ve heard it all:

• Jealousy wastes time and energy…
• Don’t compare yourself to others, measure your own progress…
• We don’t tell others we’re jealous of them, so I bet some folks are jealous of you and you don’t know it!
• Forget them, focus on you!
• List your accomplishments.
• Keep practicing… keep doing…

Love this quote.

“Jealousy is all the fun you think they had.” Erica Jong

We can be logical all we want about jealousy, but that doesn’t stop our caveman brains from pushing all logic out the door. So I asked fellow writers how they deal with it.

“I think jealousy is a natural part of the process. There are two choices. A. Become bitter. B. Continue to hone skills.” Maureen Wood

“Not ‘jealous’ but MOTIVATED!” Mary Jo Campbell

“Jealousy is a huge waste of time. It should be a quick peek at the scoreboard then get back to thinking/writing.” Jim Canterucci

“I mutter vulgarities under my breath and tell myself I’m way better looking. ” Roberta Rosenberg

“Everyone focus on your own work, please. Less time watching what others are doing, more time doing what you are doing. Oops, sorry, that was Christina the teacher talking. How do I do it? Hmmm…well, I guess it’s true, I’m only jealous of others if I’m focusing on them instead of me. If I focus on me, then I’m in my own process and there is no room there for jealousy. Plus I’m feeling good about what I’m getting done.” Christina Katz

“I figure there was a reason they got to and I didn’t. Then I look for that reason. It may be I’m not ready yet, or my path leading to publication is different (subject matter, or angle, etc.) I also congratulate them if I know them, or try to connect with them if I don’t (if I can find something to ask them), or help promote them… again, there’s a reason their perspective is in the world, so at that point someone must be able to benefit.” Christa Miller

“I admit that they beat me to it because I wasn’t quick enough off the mark, congratulate them and try to learn from the experience. I don’t usually feel jealousy.” Sharon Hurley Hall

“I know I have a place and a purpose; I keep my heart and eyes focused on the goals I have set for myself. Rejoice with those who rejoice!” Dawn Herring

“Look at all the things that you have been blessed with…..and remember to appreciate God’s gifts. You have no way of knowing how good or bad the other person’s life has been or may be in the future.” Kristen Clark Baldridge, one of my bestest friends ever since the age of five.

“Jealousy is a waste of energy. I try to read Lifebook every day.” Jeffrey Johnson, a former coworker and a lifetime friend who left Texas for Tennessee.

“Write the sequel!” Eileen Martell, worked with my mom when I was a young’un.

Excellent advice. Next time, cavegirl brain decides to bonk me on the head — I’ll read these.

P.S. It’s coincidental that St. Patrick’s Day is tomorrow. Nothing to do with the good kind of green!

How do you deal with ol’ greenie? Why do you think rears its ugly head?

Welcome to meryl’s notes blog (this here place you’re lookin’ at) in Plano, Texas (OK, the blog doesn’t live on a server in my house — but that’s where you’ll find me… in Plano, not in the server). We’re honored to be a stop in Celia Rivenbark’s WOW! Women On Writing Blog tour. Here’s a bit about fellow southerner Celia… Yes, Texas counts as the South not the West! (Stay tuned in this long post if ya wanna win this book!)

About Celia Rivenbark

Celia Rivenbark dishes essays about the old south, the new south, and everything in between in her fifth book You Can’t Drink All Day If You Don’t Start in the Morning. In addition to a collection of essays so funny you’ll shoot co’cola out of your nose, Celia gives readers a treasure trove of Southern recipes and the hilarious stories behind them.

For eight years Celia wrote for her hometown paper, the Wallace, NC Enterprise. She covered everything from weddings to funky fruit to dead bodies (sometimes all in the same day). But the big city beckoned so Celia packed her bags and headed to Wilmington, NC and the Morning Star. More weddings but eventually she achieved every Southern girl’s dream. She was paid to be a smart ass (a.k.a. write a humor column).

Along the way she found herself a husband (the sports writer, of course–they are the cutest guys at the paper!), a beautiful baby daughter and a gig as a stay-at-home mom. After her 3,000th diaper change, Celia starting writing a humor column for the Sun News in Myrtle Beach, SC. After all, what’s funnier than 3000 dirty diapers? Laugh along with Celia on her WOW Blog Tour–dates are listed at www.wow-womenonwriting.com/blog.html. Visit Celia at www.celiarivenbark.com.

This gal is funny. Put down your drink unless you don’t mind that liquid in the nose thing. Here she talks about the green-eyed monster. Oh my goodness. I’ve met that thing a few times myself and it ain’t purty, but I shush it and play nice. I do, too! Anyhoo… All yours, Celia… No, please leave the server there and start typin’.

Fighting the Green-Eyed Monster…Or Not by Celia Rivenbark

I’ve always wanted to be one of those classy people who heaps genuine praise on my published friends. I want to gush and purely ooze heartfelt wishes that their Amazon ranking never rises above 1,000. Low is good in Amazonland, you know.

I want to be that person but I’m not very good at it. Because, the horrible truth is that I am painfully, shockingly, horrifically jealous when a writer-friend does better than me.

Which happens a lot since you ask.

Sometimes, though, I try to do the right thing. Listen up.

A couple of years ago, I was attending the Southern Independent Booksellers Association convention in Orlando. About 15 of us author types were doing what amounted to speed-dating. We’d already speed-eaten a couple of tiny ham and cheese on yeast roll thingies before being told to work the crowd, spending 10 minutes at each table, charming bookstore owners from across the Southeast.

All the other authors were familiar to me. We’d traveled in the same circles more than once. It was not, to use a cliché that I just love for no real reason, our first rodeo.

But there was a shy, quiet fellow at our authors’ table. As we wolfed our mini-subs and got ready to rumble, I decided it was my Christian duty to drag him into the conversation. He barely made eye contact. Poor lil fella, I thought. He’s overwhelmed by all of us big-shot authors. Clearly he was a convention virgin.

Is it enough to say that I talked the poor man’s ears off, sharing my sorta-vast knowledge of all things regional book tour? Is it enough to say that he listened quietly and politely even, at one point, smiling a bit?

Is it enough to say that all of a sudden the convention chair walked up and began to talk to the poor soul, earnestly complimenting him on his Pulitzer AND his National Book Award?

Oh. Let me just take my impossibly dumb ass and lumber across the room to charm the book-buyers. Who by now were all atwitter about having such a distinguished guest in their midst.

I’m not being small when I say I can’t remember his name. They say the mind forgets truly intense pain.

Since then, I’ve chatted up David Sedaris and John Updike. And, no, I didn’t ask Updike to detail my car or mistake Sedaris for a hungry drifter and offer to buy him a Hardees Thickburger, which, let’s be honest, he really looks like he could use. Bless his heart.

Three years ago, my book made it to the final five in a national humor contest. Sedaris won. Funny, skinny bastard.

Ditto another book a couple of years later. Oh? What’s this? You really think Jon Stewart and gazillion-member “staff” is more deserving? Okie-freakin’-dokie.

This summer, my most recent book made it to the final three for the best nonfiction book of the year in the South. But what’s this? Another Pulitzer winner beat the snot out of me to take that one. I HATE HIM.

Oh, just joshing. I’m sure he’s a delightful fellow and there is absolutely no truth to the rumor that he is covered entirely in scales below the neck.

Yes, I want to be magnanimous, gracious and giving but, as you can see, it’s not working out too well. If they gave out Pulitzers for simply being a foul-mouthed, small-minded egotist, I’d win. Nah, who am I kidding? Kanye would beat me on that one.

Meryl here again. Good stuff, eh? You can get more goodies like this from You Can’t Drink All Day If You Don’t Start in the Morning. Ah, good thing I always have a cuppa Joe first thing in the morning… oh wait, that’s not the kind of drinking she’s talking about, is she? Back to bidness, you wanna win my copy of this book, dontcha? Yes, the things I do for you. Oh, it’s a great book (here’s the book review for all to see) not some lousy one I’m willing to dump on someone else.

Leave a 50+ word comment in this post by 11:59pm on October 13. That’s all ya gotta do to be entered to win this book. Share a story or whatever strikes ya. The objective and robotic Random.org will pick the winner.

The You Can’t Drink All Day If You Don’t Start in the Morning title gives you a very good idea of what you get from reading the book. It shows “Fun real-life stories” and lives up to it. This is my first Celia Rivenbark book and she has a fan in me now. (No, I’m not stalking her. Well, she’s not on Twitter yet for me to do that.) You can’t help but feel like you’re buds with her as you read real-life southerner stories from the gal from North Carolina. We southerners (Texas is south. Southwest… eh… well, food-wise yes..) love our cookin’, so she ends every chapter with a recipe that will “slap-yo-mama-fine.”

I read the book speedy quick (I’ve been reading too much Junie B. Jones to my youngest) because those funny stories keep wantin’ more and they have you swallowing ‘em up. I seriously  laughed out loud (not cliche!) a few times causing my kids to think I was deranged. The best way I can describe her book’s content is that  it resembles Dave Barry’s. They both share personal observations of life except she tells stories in her own style not Barry’s. Besides he’s from “Flow-ride-uh” and it doesn’t count as the South. It’s a place where people go on vacation and where mature people go to escape the cold.

She tells it like it is and with a humorous and southern twist. Perhaps, the  table of contents will give you a better idea of the kind of style you can expect from Rivenbark.

• Poseable Jesus Meets Poser Ken
• Gladys Kravitz Would’ve Lover Her Some Facebook
• No TV? I’ll Put My Carbon Footprint Up Your Behind
• Strapped for Cash? Try Cat Whisperin’

A title like You Can’t Drink All Day If You Don’t Start in the Morning raises our expectations and she meets ‘em! No, no she’s not an alcoholic, although I’m sure she considered drinking a bit after a few of the things she writes about like shagging (no, not that kind). She also talks about Jon and Kate of the Plus Eight Fame (or infame. Is that a word? It oughta be.). Boy, I could hear Rivenbark’s jokes in my head because they hadn’t broken up when she wrote the book.

I don’t recommend following the book’s title advice. First, if you are gonna drive, it’s dumb to drink (alcohol, that is!) right before you drive. Second, like everyone says reading the book will have your drink going everywhere except down your throat.

Guess what! Celia is stopping by here on Tuesday, October 6 and I’m giving away my copy of You Can’t Drink All Day If You Don’t Start in the Morning. I hate to give it up, but I love to do things for you.

Weird observation: If you switch the N and R in her last name, you get Riverbank. Just sayin’.