Everything Update

Writing: I’m technically signed up for Camp Nanowrimo but haven’t written at all in July. I made some notes but that’s it.

I bought Save the Cat and snowflake method books a couple of months ago. I tried so hard with the snowflake but I despise the book format so much I can’t get through it. I don’t want to read about how Goldilocks did it!

As for Save the Cat, so far I’ve gotten a little out of it but haven’t read very far in. I’m quite distracted by something else. More on that later.

I still plan on trying to do some writing this month, even if only for a short time every day (every writing day, not seven days a week). We’ll see if I can manage it. I don’t know why I’m struggling to get back into it, besides my distraction, but I’ll keep working towards a regular writing schedule.

New Hobby: On to what is distracting me. Sewing! If you knew me well this would shock you. I’m not exactly the ‘crafty’ type. Get a hot glue gun near me and I’ll feel threatened. Ask me to make a wreath to save my life and I’m dead. Paper crafts? Forget it! Sewing is different. It is not a craft in my eyes. It is a useful skill. It took me thirty years or so to come to this conclusion.

It all started with masks. I wanted my family to have some so I cut up some old T-shirts and got out some needles and thread. They took forever! Surprisingly, they turned out okay. I made some for a friend and then tried different patterns. Through it all, I was having fun. Fun with sewing. What the hell? How could I possibly have so much fun with something so…girly?

Then one day I randomly had an epiphany. Who gives a shit if I like something girly? Pardon the language but since it’s a quote I typed it word for word. I’d secretly been considering getting a sewing machine for a few days by that point. By secretly I mean I wasn’t admitting it to myself. I started looking at prices online.

Not long after my evening of research, I was at Walmart and I went into the fabric section. Sitting on a shelf, all by itself, was a sewing machine. I knew they had been selling out all over town so I followed the siren call and walked over. It was the one I’d more or less decided I would get, eventually. I seriously thought I’d be getting one in a couple of months. I even reminded myself of this as I put the box in my cart.

Floodgates open, I roamed the area and picked up everything else I thought I would need to get started. The last time I did any sewing was thirty years ago. I knew the basics but obviously, I was rusty, or so I believed.

You know the saying “it’s like riding a bicycle?” Applicable. I took to it as easily as I could have possibly imagined. I really thought it would be hard but it wasn’t. That’s not to say I haven’t had issues. You would laugh at my first zipper attempts. I still need practice with those.

The first things I made were masks, which were a thousand times better than my hand-sewn attempts. I bought fabric and made new styles and got good at it. To date, I’ve made some for everyone in my immediate family, my parents, in-laws, my best friend (who was patient as I tried many styles out on him), a few of my son’s coworkers, several of my husband’s coworkers, and most recently my brother and sister-in-law.

My sister-in-law posted a picture on Facebook of her and my brother wearing masks at the gym and said it was torture. I noticed the one my brother was wearing was ill-fitting and hers appeared too thick.

Of course, I pulled out my phone and texted her. She asked if I had black fabric. Miraculously I did (it’s so hard to get), so I got to work. I made two different styles that I thought would be better to work out in than what they had and I dropped them off on their porch (I believe in social distancing).

About half an hour later I got a very excited text from her. She loved the masks and she wanted me to make some for five of her family members. Yes, I was flattered. More importantly, I’m happy that she and my brother can work out more comfortably.

Also, for the last week or so, I’ve been making masks to send to New Jersey. My mother-in-law asked if I’d like to make some to sell in her shop. I told her I’d make up a few of each style and send them to see how it goes. I’ll finish those today or tomorrow. I’m also making her and my father-in-law a new style of mask. They both had trouble finding ones they liked, which prompted me to send the first ones to them. They like those but these other ones might work better.

If the ones I’m making to sell do well then I’ll bring more with me when we head up there to see them next month. We might have to get tested for Covid before we go since we live in Texas. That area requires people traveling from Texas to quarantine. It’s a mandate in New York. I don’t think it is in New Jersey but I’ll look into it.

Even if we just hang out at their house, we want to go. We only get to see them once a year. If we don’t go then by the time we see them again it will have been two years. Not on option unless the state flat out bans travelers.

I couldn’t blame them if they did. A lot of the people in my state have behaved as if they don’t have a brain. It seems like half of them won’t wear a mask just because someone told them to. Okay, toddlers. It’s not oppression it’s just inconvenience.

Anyway, so now sewing is my official hobby. It’s my second hobby ever. My first was writing back when I began but it became more than a hobby a long time ago. I haven’t had a real hobby for a long time. I play video games but I do it on and off with my husband. Sewing is a solo thing.

I adore it. I hope to get good enough to make shirts. I don’t know why shirts specifically but there you have it. I’ll do it. It will be a slow process but I’ll get there.

Sidenote: I’m taking my sewing machine with me on vacation. I’m making Christmas gifts for everyone in my family and I have a lot of relatives. Two weeks of no sewing would be a disaster. Plus, I just want to, haha.

Medical: Things aren’t terrible. I had an injection not too long ago. I still have bad back days but it’s been worse so I try not to complain too much. Leaning over my sewing doesn’t help but I’m learning ways to make it all work.

Back in August, I switched nerve pain meds. Since that time I’ve lost over twenty pounds! I knew that stupid medication was keeping that weight on. I didn’t change anything about my lifestyle, with the exception of NOT going to the gym anymore due to Covid, so I know it was the medication change.

I couldn’t be happier. It’s a happy hassle to have to go buy new clothes. I’ve picked up T-shirts here and there but still need pants. I had bought smaller pants a couple of months ago when I thought my weight was leveled out. Now they are also too big. Thanks to whoever invented belts.

I don’t mind continuing to wear those for a while. However, we’re going on vacation. Jeans aren’t going to cut it. So sometime soon I’ll get out and find some shorts and maybe capri-pants. A couple more tees and some tanks. I don’t want to spend a lot because I can’t guarantee I’ll stay at my current weight. I hope so, it’s a really healthy weight for me. Almost ideal actually.

Once upon a time, I was underweight. All my life until I had babies. People always asked me if I was eating. Boy was I! I had a high metabolism and could eat whatever I wanted. While I miss the latter I don’t miss the former. I didn’t like myself too skinny. I look and Am more healthy now.

Everything Else: Life isn’t so bad right now. My husband is an essential worker so life didn’t change a lot with the pandemic. The sucky part is I don’t see most of my kids very often and I miss visiting my mom and my grandma. But I will do whatever is needed to protect them. My grandma is 90 years old. For all I know I’m a carrier. So I call her instead of seeing her. I’ve seen my mom a couple of times but mostly we stick to the phone.

My writing group started doing Zoom calls so I get a tiny bit of social-ness once a week. There will be Skype calls for camp Nanowrimo all month (though I missed the first one because I was dizzy last night).

I managed to get a haircut for the first time since August. I was scared to get out but I’m growing my hair out and it was a mess. I needed professional help. I picked a place I knew would enforce all the mandates and risked it. Everyone in the place had a mask and I saw a lot of cleaning going on. I was quite impressed with the measures they took. That said, I won’t risk getting another haircut for a long time. My hair is past my chin right now and my goal is just shy of my shoulders. I can afford to put off doing anything until then.

My husband and I are on binging kicks. We watched every Star Wars movie and show (except Resistance, bleh) in timeline order. Then we moved onto Harry Potter, which we finished last night. I’m not sure what we’ll do next but I did manage to get him to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He didn’t hate it so I guess we’ll go back to that. He also agreed to watch the first episode of Orphan Black. I warned him it’s really weird but I think the pace of the show will pull him in. Whatever we watch, it’s a nice way for him to unwind after work without having to think about what we want to do.

That’s all I can think of for now. I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe.

Nanowrimo 2018 Update (Late)

Well, I didn’t win Nanowrimo. I didn’t expect to get 50,000 words written in thirty days. What I wanted was to get back into a good almost daily writing habit. In this, I did win!

I don’t write on my husband’s midweek day off or on Saturdays (most of the time), but I always intended to the rest of the week. By participating in Nano, I’m back to doing just that. Even if it’s only 300 – 500 words, I’m writing regularly again.

Sometimes it sucks to sit and write, due to pain issues, but I do it anyway. Yes, I’ve had bad days where I accomplished a whole lot of nothing. But most days I work through the pain.

One thing that helps is some days I work on the class I’m taking, and other days it’s straight writing. Today was a little of both. I wrote about 300 words and finished an entire lesson (those usually take a few days). Maybe I would have written more if I hadn’t done the coursework, but both are important to me, so I’m satisfied with what I chose.

Tomorrow a new lesson will be available, so I’ll probably work mostly on it with a little writing sprinkled in. I also have to do grocery shopping, and it’s just as likely I’ll do less than I plan.

Friday there is the potential for terrible weather and horrid driving conditions. As the people in my town lose their minds and driving abilities with even the tiniest bit of precipitation on the ground, I’ll probably stay in and write all day. After the winter Library sale, that is. There is a chance of cancellation due to the weather, so I’ll be closely watching the news. If they do cancel, I’ll have no excuse not to write though.

I’m hoping to find good copies of urban fantasy series. It’s for research! If my research is fun, that’s not a problem, right?

This week, I’ll probably write on Saturday too. Something about cold weather brings out my muse. I hope it stays true to form. I am still trying to plot the story I’m working on. The middle is giving me trouble.

I wrote the beginning and some of the end during Nanowrimo, but new ideas changed my original loose plotting. Now I need to figure out how to get from point A to point B with many characters, using no straight lines.

I don’t do outlines unless you count using index cards and pinning them on a board an outline. I’m sure if I did do a ‘real’ outline I’d know exactly where I was going and writing the story would be a breeze. Except there would be no magic, no fun — no room for change or growth in the story.

Serious plotting works for some people but not me. I like to let my muse be as free as possible while giving it at least a direction to start with.

I’ll try to post an update on my efforts soon.

---

Sidenote: I use Grammarly, which I love, and it told me I ended two sentences with prepositions. 1. Sorry to anyone this annoys, but it’s the way I speak. This is just a blog post. If it were a story, I wouldn’t have ignored the suggestions to fix it. 2. I love this program because there are things I don’t notice myself doing while I’m trying to get the words out. So it’s good there is something to help me notice my flaws, such as the preposition thing, and my overuse of compound sentences, or certain words. In fact, it pointed out I used the word notice too much in this post as I typed this paragraph!

Also, I picked the image above because I hope the story I’m writing will feel this way when read.

Everything Update 09/25/2018

Pardon my disappearing act for the last few months. There have been changes and slight upheavals in my life but things are starting to settle down.

Writing: I purchased another class from Holly Lisle. It’s called How to Write a Novel. I already know how to do this of course, but I bought the course anyway for a few reasons. First, I like trying other authors’ processes. I find myself picking up bits and pieces and making them my own. Every writer has a Frankenstein’s monster of a writing process. It’s how we learn and grow.

Second, I’m never more productive than when I’m doing a writing class. Since I accomplished very little this summer, I look forward to making up for it with the novel I’m working on through the class.

Third, I have a new novel idea, so it’s the perfect time to experiment with a different way of doing things.

Bonus reason: Holly Lisle uses lots of worksheets. I adore worksheets! Maybe it’s silly, but they work for me. I’m so scatter-brained these days and using her worksheets helps keep me on track. The downside is I go through a lot of paper and printer ink. This is an acceptable trade-off for getting my novels written.

Let’s talk about my new novel idea. It started a few months ago with the idea for a character. Actually, it goes all the way back to two summers ago when I plotted a story at the West Texas Writer’s Academy. I had written most of the novel before that class but something wasn’t working for me and I didn’t know what. So when I needed to pick a story to plot, I chose that one.

It was about a woman who worked with a ghost to save the world. The problem was the scope was too big. So I considered scaling it down to the duo saving a town. Great, onward and upward I thought. We had to discuss elements of the story in class and when it was my turn everyone seemed really interested. I was thrilled and knew I was on the right track. Comments and suggestions abounded. I wrote everything I heard down and started incorporating the more interesting ideas.

I was excited to have the story plotted at the end of the week and happy I took the class. Then I got home and tried to rewrite the story. There was one problem. I hated the story. It was a terrible idea for a story, but it was no longer MY idea. I was so enraptured with all the enthusiasm from others that I inadvertently changed the story idea into Their story.

I’m still glad I took the class but I regret getting lost in what other writers wanted. That novel, all 60,000 word written, is a bust. Then a few months ago, I ‘new’ idea struck me. As I wrote down my thoughts I realized there were a lot of elements from the original ghost story. At first, I thought I was reworking it, then realized I was only drawing inspiration from it.

This new idea inspires my muse more than the other ever did! Since I pulled strings from what I called The Ghost War, what I wrote before was not wasted. I’ll call it a practice novel, the kind you write and realize you need to trash it. It’s not my first novel but it still taught me a lot. The most important lesson is to write for myself, and not what other author’s think I should. Their ideas were great, but not for my style.

The Ghost War turned into something bordering on romance, which is not what I do. I’ve thought about trying my hand at other genres and if I ever decide to do something more paranormal romance then I have that story on my hard drive. And my external drive. And a thumb drive. And Dropbox and Google drive, lol.

So, back to my new story idea. I spend the summer working on characters and major plot points. What I came up with is a series, hopefully. I’ll write the first book and see. At this point, what I thought would be book one and book two merged and made a better, fuller story. I’ll keep you all updated as I go along.

Writing Goals: Above I mentioned how I’m more productive while doing writing classes. If things go the way they did with other courses, my muse won’t be happy unless I’m working on several things at once. This led me to make some goals.

1. Finish the class. This should be obvious but I have a few class I started but never finished. It wasn’t laziness or fear. The problem was I wasn’t ready for the particular classes. For example, I have one called How to Write a Series. At the time, I wasn’t prepared to work on my middle-grade series (stupid muse) and I didn’t have a solid adult series idea. I do now but I’m going to do the new class first. I could be wrong about the idea’s potential and I’d rather learn that before I get into the series class.
2. Flash fiction. I’ve written around one hundred pieces of flash fiction. Most were written in the same year. Burn-out stopped me in my tracks. Also, back pain, but that’s another story. Now, I think I’m ready to try again. Most of my time will be taken up by my novel, but when I get tired of it or need to shift focus a bit I can switch to flash. I might even use the shorter stories as a morning warm up. Even if they suck I’ll have something to work with later!
3. Blog. I want to get back into the habit of posting regularly. Some writers get distracted by blogging. For those, it’s either posts or fiction. Not me. I stay more on track if I’m doing both. Like switching to flash fiction, blogging is a small break from the obsession of novel writing. It saves me from crashing and burning on a story.

Medical: Pain sucks. Long-term pain sucks more. However, as sad as it is, chronic pain forces one to adapt. You simply get used to the pain. It doesn’t hurt less, but it becomes part of your life. If you’re smart, you’ll get on with life instead of feeling so sorry for yourself that you end up doing nothing (guilty).

I’m tired of letting my back pain decide everything I do and don’t do. I’m still not going to ride a roller coaster but I am going to suck it up and write more often!

For a while, I wasn’t going to the gym regularly but I’m getting back on track. This will help my pain level a lot, which translates to helping my ability to write more often. Plus the bonus energy levels following a workout. I always try to get some writing in during that time.

Changes and Upheaval: I had a kid move out! My four offspring range in age from 18 (barely) to 24. My twenty-one-year-old daughter was the first to go. It was a strange, upsetting, and cool time. I was so happy for her but sad to see her go. I didn’t realize how much it affected me until weeks later. I miss her like crazy but still get to see her semi-often. I’m over the sad part. Now I’m starting to see how our household changed.

Alyssa, if you read this, sorry but I’m going to rat you out.

The biggest change is the amount of toilet paper in the house! I went to Sam’s and bought a huge pack and when I got home I went to put some in the hall linen closet. For the first time, ever, there was another big pack, unopened, and some left from another. I wish there was a video of my shocked reaction. Who knew she was the one who used the most. I bet her siblings knew, but I didn’t.

Another change or lack thereof was the amount of food in the pantry and fridge. There were fewer items in the deli drawer but I couldn’t see a difference in the pantry. That kid adored ramen and chicken noodle soup.

My living room is cleaner. She always left piles of her stuff everywhere. Not all her junk has been moved yet but at least the stacks are smaller.

The garage is the biggest change. Somehow after being given a small corner to do art, Alyssa managed to take over most of one side of the garage. She would have taken more but I park in there and we keep the lawn stuff on ‘her’ side. As I mentioned, she hasn’t moved it all but I can see the floor! Since she got her packrat tendencies from her mother, I’m not mad about the massive amount of things she has but I’ll be glad when she finally gives me room to store my equally large around of stuff, lol. I have a feeling many shelves are in my future.

The next change hasn’t occurred but soon will. My oldest plans to move out. I don’t know when, but he put in an application for an apartment on Friday. They told him it would take several business days to hear back. I’m happy for him but I’m positive I’ll be sad too. He’s the type to only visit when he feels guilty that he hasn’t in a while. He loves his family but he desperately needs a space of his own. He’ll finally not have to share a room with his brother.

One last soon to happen upheaval: My youngest child, Cairie, is a senior. She will attend college after she graduates and her plan was to live at home until she finishes. However, my older daughter offered to let her sister move in with her in May. Since my baby is the most independent of the kids, this appeals to her. Alyssa even told Cairie she wouldn’t have to pay rent until they upgraded to a two bedroom, and offered up the bedroom so they would have separate spaces. What 18-year-old would turn that down?

Calling all of this upheaval may seem to be an exaggeration but you have to understand how much of a creature of habit I am. And they are my babies!

Nanowrimo: I’m going to participate this year. Not only that, I’m going to drag others in with me. There is a group of people who have felt left out of the group due to some choices by previous leadership. There are new leaders this year and they know the problems and want to fix them. I offered my assistance and together we’re going to get those people back in and feeling part of the family.

I’m talking about the people over 30. The last leader worked so hard to get college kids involved that the older ones of us got pushed aside and forgotten. This wasn’t on purpose but still happened. Since most of the people who felt left out feel comfortable with me, I’m going to use that to get them going to events. If I go, they will know at least one person who will talk to them so they’ll do it. That means I’ll be going to almost every event and most of my attention will be on the others. I probably won’t ‘win’ this year but I’m thinking long-term for all of us.

The young people won’t be neglected but I left that in one of the ‘ML’s’ hands. I’ll have enough on my hands trying to convince twenty or so people to come back to Nanowrimo. (Jesse, that mean’s you too!).

It took me about 30  minutes to write this post and it’s over 2000 words. If I can do that, then I can write 1500 words a day (some days) for Nanowrimo. I might not get the 50,000 but I bet I can get half! That’s a hell of accomplishment too.

If this post seems scattered, with many errors, then just know you are seeing a glimpse of my brain. Grammarly certainly doesn’t like the way I wrote it! I’ll post more updates soon.

Flash Fiction – Untitled (for now)

She slammed the sledgehammer against the giant block again. After a thousand, she stopped counting the blows. Flakes of whatever it was made of littered the ground, but she was no closer to destroying the thing.

Seven days ago she almost managed to start the apocalypse. Everything was going along perfectly until a stray thought about mythical creatures ruined it all. What a terrible idea it was too! Of course, that was the problem. The worst concept in history created the block before her. She attempted everything to break it: a chisel, blowtorch, freeze ray. She even tried with a ball of twine, which didn’t make sense but she couldn’t get it out of her head so she tried it anyway. Only the sledgehammer she held had an effect, but it took too long.

Already she could feel the apocalyptic urges fading. So close! Thoughts of that stupid unicorn were replacing her carefully laid plot to start a war. Her plan to destroy…something important…nope, gone. Instead, she kept seeing a fat old book being used as a grappling hook. What? She couldn’t stop the bizarre, random ideas from coming.

She glanced at the block. Oh crap, it was getting bigger, just like the grappling hook book. Titles of thick novels flashed until she latched onto one. She didn’t want to but she had no choice. Sometimes she hated being a muse.

Cutting off that line of thinking, she tried to concentrate again on her objective. She had to find a way to break through. Maybe a bayonet would work.

—

Sara sat at her computer and tried to will herself to write. Ever since that stupid unicorn story popped into her head she’d been stalled. This was the worst case of writer’s block she’d ever had. A whole week with no writing! It sucked but some part of her felt it was a good thing.

Sometimes she thought her muse must be evil. Too many thoughts of world domination or destruction crossed her mind for her to entirely trust her ‘imagination.’ She knew it was silly to think of her muse as separate from herself, yet, she strongly felt it must be so. Sara believed was a good person and there was no way such immoral thoughts could come from her!

She took one more look at her screen before giving up on writing for the day. Perhaps now would be a good time to find a show to binge-watch. As she walked away from her desk she wondered if writing down the dumb unicorn story would help beat her writer’s block.

—

(One year later Sunny the Super Unicorn was a best seller with the sequel eagarly awaited by fans. Yet, no one would ever know a mental image of a unicorn rescuing someone with a ball of twine, a bayonet and an old copy of War and Peace potentially saved the world.)

---

I wrote a story! I don’t even care about the flaws. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to sit down and write more than a few ideas.  You probably figured out this story was born of my own writer’s block. I actually jotted down the basic idea weeks about, along with the bones of eight or nine other stories. The problem wasn’t my creativity shutting down, it was my motivation turning completely off. So more of a writer’s funk but as bad as being blocked.

There are many potential reasons/excuses but I believe it all comes down to pain. With all the troubles I’ve had with my back it’s no surprise it finally got down. It sucks but there it is. I spent a lot of time being angry, then feeling sorry for myself. Now I’m back to angry, but it’s a will inducing, motivation driving anger.

Instead of being resentful of my situation I’m pissed off at at the pain and myself for letting it stop my forward writing momentum.

My first step in using this anger is this story. The next steps are the other story ideas I have written here and there. As I write I’ll post most of them. One or two I might use to finally enter some contests. I’ll keep everyone updated on that.

I also have several novels plotted out. If inspiration leans that way then I’ll work on one of them as well but I want to concentrate on flash fiction and longer short stories for now.

 

---

Rough draft 481 words

Photo by Sunyu on Unsplash

My Writing Journey, Part 2

To read Part 1 click here.

Ah, the teenage years. What a beautiful, crazy, terrible nightmare they were. I could tell a million stories from that time, but I’ll stick to the writing-related stuff for the sake of brevity.

I didn’t often write back then. Like most teens, I was crippled with self-doubt and unexplained fears. How on earth did we all survive blushing almost daily? It was during these formative years that I had a lot of serious upheavals and changes.

When I was thirteen, my parents divorced. This was both painful and welcome. They hadn’t gotten along for years, so we all knew it was necessary. The hard part had to do with being a daddy’s girl. There was a time I would have done anything to please my father, but I was learning that he was human and I didn’t like it.

He was an alcoholic, which I barely understood and probably affected me the least of all of my family since I was the youngest and his favorite. In the days leading up to my mom leaving him, I finally saw some uncomfortable truth. My dad was a high functioning alcoholic, as in he came home, drank a lot of beer and you couldn’t see much change. However, he was an a-hole when he was really drunk, but like most heavy drinkers, it was even worse when he wasn’t drinking.

I need to clarify that I was the one who couldn’t see much change when dad drank. I was young, dumb, and oblivious. My mother and brothers definitely weren’t in the dark. In a way, this lack of knowledge made it harder when I saw the truth.

Anyway, I won’t go into too many details, but the night we left, my dad did the unforgivable. He slapped my mother. I may have been a daddy’s girl, but no one touches my mother. Even worse, in my barely teenaged mind, it was my fault. He was drunk and pissed off because of something I did that my mother punished me for.

I don’t remember what stupid crap I’d pulled, but I do remember I deserved to be in trouble. All she did was ground me, but I was his baby, and I don’t know if he assumed I hadn’t done anything or if he thought she was too harsh. It doesn’t matter, he had no right to do what he did. Hell, he didn’t have the right to be yelling at her for it.

The words and images are fuzzy for me except the look on his face when I screamed at him. The shock and betrayal in his expression are still clear in my mind. Sitting here, writing this I keep thinking ‘he felt betrayed, what about us?’

My mom was smart enough to use the interruption to get the hell out of there. She grabbed me and my older brother and took us to her sister’s house. She filed for divorce soon after.

I need to backtrack a moment. My dad was a good man, once. He treated me like a princess and loved me with everything he had. He treated my mother well too, in the beginning. He didn’t treat my brothers the same, but I don’t know if that was the beer or just how he was.

Alcoholism messes people up, and he’d been that way for most of his adult life. Part of me believes if he’d ever completely given up beer, he might have become the man he should have been. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

Once they split up, I picked up a pen again. I wrote about my feelings and then tore up the paper into confetti, every time. It helped. Life settled into a routine for a while. Then my mom started dating someone.

I was happy for her until I met him. His name was David, and I hated him, instantly. This was no teenager issue, though my mom thought it was. No, I got a bad feeling from him. I’d only gotten this feeling with one other person, and it turned out my gut was right that time. So, in all my experience and wisdom I told my mom how uncomfortable he made me. She produced the knowing smile adolescents everywhere hate and kept doing what she was doing.

Everyone assumed I would hate the first guy she dated because he wasn’t my dad. HA! Little did they know my ‘bad feeling’ was never wrong. The guy turned out to be a pig, which is the nicest thing I can say about the man. As a side note, years later, I ran into this man at the local mall, where I worked (I was 18 or 19). He told me how much I looked like my mother, how he missed her, and then hit on me! GROSS!

I occasionally pick on my mother for not listening to me, but my choice in men was much worse for a few years so I keep it to a minimum.

Not long after dumping the jerk, she met my future step-dad. I liked him right away. He was weird as hell, had a dry sense of humor, and he adored mom. No bad feelings cropped up, so I was happy for her. They got married in October 1988, and we moved from our tiny little town to the bigger city ten miles away.

It might as well have been a hundred miles. I wasn’t sad to move, but I was sad to leave my friends. I figured we still see each other often, but it didn’t take long for everyone to move on. I loved and hated my new school. There were so many people! Unfortunately, some were little assholes. Some were amazing. I found the weird tribe and joined. I settled in and decided it could have been worse, then it was.

At the end of December, fifteen days after I turned 15, my dad died in a car accident. He was driving through New Mexico, on he way to El Paso to visit his parents. My brother and I were supposed to be with him, but we didn’t go. He was mad at both my brothers for something stupid and I was mad at him. On Christmas Eve, he yelled at me and told me I ruined Christmas because I defended my siblings. It was all so unimportant and silly, but we didn’t want to be around him when he was a jerk.

As you can imagine, I was a wreck. Grief and guilt consumed me. My relationship with my middle brother fell apart. He already resented me because I was dad’s favorite and was treated differently. Now that our father was gone, there was only me left to take the blame. My mother hardly knew what to do with me.

The years that followed are particularly painful for me, and I don’t want to rehash everything. I didn’t get arrested or do a bunch of drugs or anything like that, but there are some things I’ll never talk about again. I will say that I wrote more during this time than I ever had. I got angry at my mother often back then. She was very non-confrontational, and I am the opposite. It made me so mad when she wouldn’t fight! So I wrote her letters. I wasn’t capable calmly telling her how I felt and she wouldn’t let me yell it, so it was my only option.

Those letters, which she still has, changed my world. You wouldn’t believe how many drafts of each one I wrote. I cared about how well they were written. It bothered me to misspell something or if my grammar was off. I realized how much words mattered. I also learned that I could truly express myself with a pen.

Fear still ruled, but I’d taken steps in the right direction. Years later my mother told me she thought I should write after reading those letters because they were well written.

Remember when I used the word brevity at the beginning of this post? If you know me, I figured there would be some eye-rolls, well deserved.

Certainly, I wrote more than intended but sometimes the words have to come out. Thank you for sticking with me. In part 3, I’ll cover my failed marriages and bad choice in men. Those were the years that almost broke me and nearly killed my love of writing.

---

Photo by Apollo Reyes on Unsplash

 

 

Yearly Goal Post

Every year I write a post about my goals. I don’t like to make resolutions because those fail. I can say I want to eat better, and I might for a short time, but it won’t last. There will always be chicken strips in the world!

I could state I will work out more. I probably will do this, but it won’t be because I claimed I would on January 1st. I’ll do it for my health and because it helps me deal with back pain.

What I will say is I want to write more this year. I intend to; it is my primary goal. This is not a resolution; it’s what I’ll do.

Generally, in one of these posts, I make a long list of writerly goals. Not this year. There are too many roadblocks in my life to plan for anything too specific. So I’m sticking with writing more than I did last year.

I don’t want to be disappointed by too many bullet points like I was last year. However, if I’m lucky, motivated, dedicated, and able, then I will write many short stories, a novel or two and a lot of blog posts.

I’m not against other people making resolutions, but they don’t work for me. If you’re making some, I hope they work for you.

Sidenote: I’m working on a suspense novel! I started it years ago but put it aside to work on fantasy. It’s time for a change, so I picked it back up. I replotted it, with very few changes. Now I’m trying to fill in holes in the middle before I sit down and write the thing. Wish me motivation!

 

My Writing Journey, Part 1

One doesn’t choose to be a writer, it’s in you, but you do have to decide to write. Being a writer is part of me, it always was, but I didn’t always choose to do anything active about it. The road to writing regularly was bumpy, often blocked, detoured, sabotaged, scary, and sometimes impossible.

Even now, as in the last few months, there are times when I write next to nothing. I aim to change that, starting with this post. There are many reasons why I’ve been in what I call a ‘writer’s funk,’ but I’ll get into that in a later post.

For now, I’m going to share with you all how I got to where I am today. I called this post Part 1 because it will take several to get it all out. I don’t know how many but I would rather do this in sections than give you with a ten thousand word post.

It all began when I was a child. I’d like to say I always wrote. I wish I had hundreds of journals worth of childish thoughts and stories, but I didn’t write back then. I was capable of it, but things more powerful than the urge to write ruled my life. Fear and shame. Not fear of life or a person, just fear of baring my soul and shame when I did and was rejected. I tried several times, with diaries. After writing a few lines, I would seize up and put them away.

Opening up still fills me with dread. There was no significant event that started it. It was a mix of small childhood traumas that stifled me so much.

I was one of those kids who liked to make crazy things up. Fantastical stories with me as the star. A few times I tried to share these with friends and family.  My parents didn’t actively discourage me, but with three kids and jobs, they didn’t have time to ‘indulge’ me.

My friends were tolerant but more heavily grounded than me, so not particularly interested. All the girls my age were more interested in love stories, and the boys just wanted to watch cartoons and ride bikes. While I was imagining having a superpower or flying on a dragon, the other kids were busy being normal.

One of my brothers, who shall stay unnamed, but it’s the one I don’t get along with, had a different reaction. He made fun of me. Then his friends joined in. I won’t go into details except to say he liked upsetting me and succeed often. I valued his opinion above all others and he used that mercilessly. It wasn’t too long before I started keeping my stories to myself, even from the people who didn’t mock me.

I didn’t even want to write them down. Hence the started yet never finished diaries. What if someone read them? I would have died before letting anything see how weird I was. Now, all these years later, I don’t know what it was those boys said that made me feel so much shame, I only know the result.

Watching other girls writing their secret thoughts made me so jealous I could hardly stand it. I didn’t care what they wrote, but I wished to be like them. I wanted to be as brave as I thought they were.

I still made stuff up regularly, anytime I had a quiet moment. I kept it all to myself, for years. It took my mom pissing me off when I was a teenager so bad that I wrote her a letter to express my feelings before anything changed. That’s a story for next time.

As I stated above, I don’t know how many posts it will take me to tell my writing journey. I’m winging this one. Some posts may be short, others longer. There is also no schedule for when I’ll write them. I’m in the process of getting back to writing regularly so I hope to be very busy soon.

In my next post I’ll tell you all about how I started to embrace my weird and took a step closer, and many steps back from active writing.

Did any of you guys have problems with other people judging your creativity as a child? Feel free to share your experiences in the comments.

---

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash