I actually have a pair of sweatpants with "Feelin' Lucky" on the butt. I don’t wear them out of the house. I’d hate to have to explain to a police officer that he had it coming when he put his hand on my ass and said that I was about to be the lucky one.

Dream on, buddy.

Sort of like the sex instructor t-shirt. That doesn’t get worn out in public either for various reasons. Mostly because the last time I wore it, I forgot I had it on and a Carney midget (little person- I’m not sure what is preferred) solicited a good time with me because there were things he was sure as a sex instructor I needed to know.

Trust me; I think I’ve got the sex covered.

Coinwinkadinkaly, I’ve not been back to a county fair since.

Today is St. Patty’s day, and I’m not going to bore you with the details of the St. Patty’s day. (As far as I’m concerned, the only facts you need to know about today is that you should be in an Irish bar getting wasted and pretending you speak Gaelic.)

Getting lucky is what writing is all about. Writing is a lot of hard work and determination and heart break and soaring above the clouds. As a profession, we have a lot of personal ups and downs. Rationally if you look at the odds a writer faces- well, I’m not going to think about it. My odds of making it as an actual author depresses me. I like to think the more I believe in lady luck, the better my odds get at actually making it. Although, this would also entail actually finishing up my manuscript and getting out there.

That’s going to take some luck too.

Getting lucky isn’t always about scoring with the hot dude three doors down from you who always goes out into the hall to get his paper with just a towel wrapped around his waist and hair still damp from the shower, smelling like After Hours and begging to be licked dry.

(Sorry, I have to pause a second to let that just soak in. I have this thing for After Hours. It’s like breathing in liquid sex and sexy man all at the same time.)

We have the chance as writers to make our characters as lucky or unlucky as the situation we put them in.  Kiki believes (mostly because it’s my belief) you have to make your own luck. You get yourself into a situation, you either need to be able to handle it or hope you have enough Karma to burn off to get you out of it.

Unfortunately, Kiki’s luck well has run dry.

I like being in charge. I’ve been bossy my entire life. Being in the driver’s seat of my world, of my story and characters gives me a chance to boss more people around.

• I decide if Kiki gets out of the car.

• I decide if Kiki survives all the messes she’s gotten herself into.

• I decide if Kiki jumps Dex in the kitchen.

• And I decide if any of those things brings consequences of the unlucky variety of fortune.

Which knowing me, no one’s luck is that good.

I try to keep in mind with every situation; there is a good and bad outcome. Example would be:

He pulled up to the corner and told me to get out. I looked out the passenger window at the iron bars over the glass store fronts, the graffiti littering the brick and sidewalks. I shot him a look.



“No way.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. “I’m not going out there without my gun.”



He reached across me and shoved open the door. “Get out, Kiki.”



I fastened my seat belt and held on.



“Get out of the car.”



I turned my head away from him and closed the door.



“I’m not going to tell you again.”



I whipped my head around, “Or you’ll what? You’ll drop me off in the ghetto to be picked up by Soladan and his goons? Oh, golly, oh, gee. Looks like that already happened.” I leaned over the console and got in his face. “I am not bait to get your sister back.”



His gaze held mine, “You are if I say you are.”



I made a nasty noise in the back of my throat and shoved away from him. “I knew it was bad luck that brought you back into my life. It’s been nothing but one hell hole after the next since you came back.”



“The sooner you get out of the car, the sooner I’m out of your life, wildcat.” He reached passed me and shoved open the door again. “Now, are you going to puss out or are you going to get out of the car.”



I hated him. Oh, I hated him. I shoved his arm out of the way and hit the concrete with two clicks of my four inch heels. “Careful, Dex. I don’t do any favors.”



He smiled, his eyes tired and lips nearly thinned out. “Yeah, that’s what I heard around the block.”



I kicked the door closed to the car and double handedly flipped him off as he peeled away from the curb.



The nerve of that asshole!



I looked down both ways and wouldn’t you know, two minutes after I step out onto the curb, Soladan’s sentries spied me and his big bad wolf, the Muscle Man, was coming to take me in.



I thought about my options, took a deep breath and started walking towards the Muscle Man. If I got out of this semi-alive, I was going to kill Dex.



While this seems like a bad outcome, the good is just on the horizon. Positive to negative. Everything has to equal out, just like luck.



Now, do you believe in luck? And are you lucky or unlucky?



What sort of situations do you place your character in before they get lucky? How do you decide how unlucky they are going to be before you take mercy on them? Have any lucky advice? Ran into any rainbows with pots of gold? Favorite St. Patty’s day story? Drinking green rum at your desk at the moment?

May the luck of the Irish be with you today and don't wrestle with Leprechauns. They bite.