Category Archives: Personal

Priorities

28 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by in Boring, House, Randomness, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

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Yesterday I was exhausted. I didn’t write a word. I didn’t even open up the file. But I did dismantle the plumbing under my sink to unclog my clogged drain which involved completely emptying the cabinet and then putting everything back into it and I did deal with some work stuff, including some that was not pleasant, and I did call CenturyLink to find out why the internet wasn’t working, so it wasn’t a collapse-in-a-heap sort of day. I could have written. I should have written. At least a couple sentences to get myself back into the spirit.

Today I am off to take my car to the shop (and have breakfast!) and when I come home, I need to move most of the small items in the house, including all the books, into my bedroom, so the flooring guys can fix all the floors tomorrow. Doesn’t that sound fun? I am so not in the mood. But I am going to try to write–not 1000 words, because that would be a ridiculous goal and I’m sick of failing the goals I set for myself, but at least a paragraph.

Tomorrow, flooring guys. I suspect the day will be disrupted and loud, but I will try to write.

Thursday, the cabinet people come. I’d like to make it to yoga, because apparently I’m not going to make it there today or tomorrow, but I think choosing yoga is probably ambitious enough that it would mean not choosing writing. Maybe I’ll play it by ear.

But I need to stop letting one disruption dictate my day. In my head, writing is my priority. In my life, other stuff keeps stealing my energy.

I still haven’t managed to reformat the books and post the new versions, so I’ve also got that as a goal. But first things first–off I go to the car place.

Today’s goal: to write something!

Clever Title Here

15 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by in Boring, Personal, Randomness, Writing, Zelda

≈ 8 Comments

Not a very clever title, is it? But it’s Monday morning and I’m sick. The dog has been trying plaintively for two hours to get me to take her for a walk and I’m just not up to it. My muscles hurt, my chest is heavy, my throat itches, oxygen isn’t making it through my sinuses… so I have to type. Zelda is smart enough to know that when I’m engaged in any other activity, I *might* be willing to take her for a walk, but when my hands are on the keyboard, I’m working and it’s not going to happen. So writing is, at the moment, a self-defense against a dog who doesn’t understand the difference between a human with a cold and a human who’s being lazy.

I really resent this cold. I’m three plus weeks into the 30-day autoimmune protocol diet, and I have been so, so good. I haven’t cheated once. To the best of my knowledge, not a single bit of any of the forbidden foods has crossed my lips. I say “to the best of my knowledge” because a couple times I used something, then later looked at the ingredient list. Green ginger tea apparently has “natural flavors” in it. I have no idea what those natural flavors might be so maybe they’re okay and maybe they’re not. I stopped drinking ginger tea after I figured that out.

I figured it out because eh. Even before the cold, I wasn’t feeling as good as I had hoped I would. So maybe I need to stick with it longer or maybe I need to up my doses of fermented foods and organ meats or maybe I need to try the FODMAP version… but at the moment, I’m not convinced it’s worth it. On the other hand, I have a cold. I feel like crap. So possibly now is not the best time to be making this call.

The good news of having a cold: I binge-watched Once Upon A Time over the weekend. Just the first season. I don’t think I would have gotten into that show without a need for sleepy sick television, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have stuck with it–it gets quite slow during the middle of the season–but I’m happy I did if only for the sake of the story of Red Riding Hood. What a great twist on a fairy tale! I won’t provide spoilers, but watching the whole season was worth it just for the development of that character.

The bad news of having a cold: well, it’s a cold. Sufficient bad news, yeah? But writing just hasn’t been going well at all. I’m not finding Fen’s voice again. I’m going to go back and start the first chapter over–I think it’s the right time, the right place, the right overall experience, but there’s something wrong with it and I think it might be Fen. But I suspect that’s probably not going to happen today. Today feels an awful lot like a lie in front of the television drinking green tea and piling up tissues sort of day, and good news for me, I still have two more seasons of Once Upon a Time to watch.

As for my website redesign… well, I changed the site. But I realized as I spent hour upon hour trying to create materials that would be my “landing page” on the Web, my “portal” to selling my books to new readers, that I really just don’t want to turn my blog into that sort of space. I’ve been posting here off-and-on for eight years and it’s personal, not professional. Changing it, fine. Making it a “sales tool”–nope, not okay with me. So I’ll have to think about that some more, I guess. Maybe I can optimize the Rozelle Press site so that it becomes top of the search results for my author name and then it can be the professional marketing space and this can stay my nice little casual, low-tech, unprofessional corner of the internet.

Re-designing everything

10 Wednesday Sep 2014

Posted by in Anxiety, House, Personal, Randomness

≈ 3 Comments

I realized this morning that I’ve been on a redesign binge. I think it started with the pantry, but I suspect I should be blaming it on the insurance company.

So ten days ago, I decided the pantry needed to be cleaned out and re-organized. I threw away a bunch of expired food, gave away a bunch more that I will never eat (products containing gluten), shifted the shelves around so that the stuff we need is in the middle, moved a bunch of appliance-type items into the garage, and wound up after a couple of hours work with a very user-friendly and half-empty pantry. It’s nice.

A few days after that, I decided to attack the spice cupboard. I took everything out, sorted through what we have and don’t have, put a couple of items on a grocery list, and arranged the rest according to categories. All the pepper-based products (red pepper flakes, chili powder, paprika, tabasco, sriracha, Marie Sharp’s, etc., etc.,) are in one group, all the green herbs in another, all the seasoned salts and spice mixes in a third. Frankly, it mostly made me want some really good spice racks or lazy Susans, but for a brief moment in time, it was organized.

Then I did my bathroom. The tea cupboard. The baking cupboard. Finally, I realized that I’m currently waiting on news from my insurance company about whether they agree with the damage control people that I should have all new cupboards and perhaps it’s not really the best time to be re-organizing all of them? Just guessing.

So my attention went bookward. This weekend, I went a little crazy. I went for a new cover on A Lonely Magic. I think I can’t talk about that too much right now, because my anxiety level will skyrocket, but it was an impulse purchase that goes with an expensive secondary impulse purchase and… yeah, anxiety rising. But re-design. And then on Monday, for whatever insane reason, I decided I needed to re-format all my books. I spent the whole day working on it, trying to make them as beautiful as some of the books Amazon is turning out. I didn’t entirely succeed, but I made some improvements and will be re-posting files eventually.

This morning I decided it was time for a website re-design. I opened the dashboard and started to consider my options–and finally, finally, I reigned myself in and said, “What’s going on here? Does everything need to be different?”

As soon as I started to think about it, I realized that all this change is really just a reaction to being in a holding pattern with house changes. I am going to need new floors. But I liked my old floors. I am going to need new cabinets. But I liked my old cabinets!

But my subconscious is busily working away, trying to get my conscious to reconcile itself to change sometimes being positive. Change can be good. My new floors might be as nice as the old ones. My new cabinets might be a lot nicer.

And my new web design–well, I’m going to try to come up with a fancy front page, maybe one of those slider carousels, showing off the books?–and move the blog to a less prominent area. Not hidden, but tucked away so that people who come here merely wanting to know if I have another book on the way don’t need to read about my dogs & other miscellany. Because change is okay. And unlike house disasters, I can always revert it if I don’t like it.

I should probably call the insurance company, too, and find out what’s going on with my claim. It’s time to bite the bullet and figure out how to get my new floors.

Being a publisher

30 Saturday Aug 2014

Posted by in Anxiety, Self-publishing

≈ 14 Comments

I worked in publishing for a long time. Over ten years as an acquisitions editor. That was one of the reasons I was skeptical about trying to write “professionally”–in other words, trying to earn my living with my writing. I know how ridiculously hard it is, I know how few people manage to do so. But hey, I decided to try anyway, and even decided to make it formal, create a publishing company, etc. I decided to treat the job professionally, practically.

Yesterday, with my publisher hat on, I tried to talk myself out of writing A Precarious Balance. Not just now, but ever.

If I was a good publisher, I’d look at the numbers–29 copies of A Lonely Magic sold in the month of August, worse than any of the Tassamara books have ever done, including when I had no audience at all–and I’d make the kind of phone call that makes my stomach twist with anxiety for hours ahead of time.

“So sorry,” I’d tell the author. “We loved the book, really we did. But the numbers just aren’t there. We’ll keep trying. We’ll push it, see if we can squeeze it into a promotion or two, but we need to put #2 on hold. Indefinitely.” I’d mourn with the author, especially for a book I loved so much, and I’d feel guilty and torn by indecision–where had I made the wrong choices, how had I screwed up, why hadn’t my passion gotten through to the sales reps? But I’d bite the bullet and do it anyway, because publishing is a business and investing in books that don’t make money is a fast way to layoffs & cost-cutting & midnight stress.

I suspect that this is why at some point in my publishing journey, I’m going to wind up working at McDonald’s. Not because the book isn’t selling. That’s sad, but all I have to do is think about how much fun it was to write and I can shrug my shoulders and let go of that. But because I’m not capable of choosing my writing projects based on whether or not they’re good business decisions. When the practical publisher and the impractical author collide, the impractical author is winning every time. My anxious side really hates that, but my author side goes on strike every time I try to do it differently.

Today, the impractical author side is going to take a weekend day, and say good-bye to summer by hanging out with my niece, with swimming and maybe grilling and probably a lot of Doctor Who. And on Monday–or maybe Tuesday–the publisher side can start worrying again.

Choices

18 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by in A Lonely Magic, Personal

≈ 2 Comments

I have guests this week, two boys, aged 10 & 13. On Sunday, we went to the movies and saw How to Train Your Dragon 2. On Monday, we went up to Wekiva Springs and had a picnic between dips in the refreshingly cold water. Yesterday was a day filled with boring appointments for me–vet for both dogs, doctor for me, but today, I’m hoping we’re going to play mini-golf in the afternoon. Tomorrow, if the weather co-operates (please, weather, please cooperate!), we’re going inner-tubing at Rock Springs.

Needless to say, I’m not getting a lot of work done. I don’t care. More than that, I’m actively choosing not to. I think it’s the most important lesson I learned as a parent–time never comes back again. Yeah, it would maybe be better for my bottom line if I were writing a story or working on A Precarious Balance but I don’t get to turn around after I’ve finished those things and say, okay, now I get to play with you guys. They won’t be here and even if they come again, they won’t be the same kids, they’ll be x amount older and different. The visiting 10-year-old still knows how to giggle. If he visits at 11, that might already be lost. I’m going to enjoy it while I can. So much playing, not so much audio book recording. I think this audiobook may be a “it happens when it happens” instead of the simultaneous release I was hoping for.

On a slightly more news-y note, I posted ALM to NetGalley last week, with the proviso that it was an Advance Review Copy, still subject to minor changes. (When it’s no longer subject to minor changes, but still an Advance Review Copy, I’ll let everyone on my mailing list know how to get it, so if you’re waiting impatiently, give me just a little longer to get it completely cleaned up.) Anyway, today it received its first review. I’m reasonably calm about reviews: I think people are entitled to their opinions and that if we all liked exactly the same thing the world would be a boring place. But the first few reviews on a new book are different, and the very first one, today, was a weirdly physical experience–my stomach churned with nerves when I saw that there was feedback and my muscles were all tight with tension as I scrolled down, and I think I forgot to breathe while I clicked the “View All Feedback” button… and now, I’m pretty much going to spend my day in a glow of happiness while I walk on air. 🙂 The review will get posted to the author’s blog next week, so I will link to it then, but it’s a lovely review. Yay!

Judgements

10 Tuesday Jun 2014

Posted by in Bartleby, Personal

≈ 3 Comments

I invited a couple people over for dinner last Friday. And then, one thing leading to another (mostly the people I like having significant others that they like) we wound up having a dinner party of 10 people. It was lovely. We ate on the back porch, the butterfly lights and torches alight, with much delicious food, and a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity before the evening ended.

One of the guests was a stranger to all of us (except the guy who brought her) and her reaction to CAH was a fascinating, “but you’re all going to be judging me.” Nope, only on how funny her answers were and she was tied for the win at the end of the evening, so go her, but it made me think about judgement.

I always tell people the full story of how Bartleby came to be my dog when they meet him. Literally, it’s the most boring story in my repertoire, because if you say, “hey, cute dog,” I’m going to share with you how he showed up in my backyard during a thunderstorm, and how I give him eyedrops in the morning, Benadryl at both meals, glucosamine and omega three oils in the evening, and how he’s got chronic dry eye and patellar luxation and allergies to all grains and maybe dairy, etc. etc. And sometimes–not always, but often–people respond with things like, “he was lucky to have found you.”  And I always feel vaguely like, “no, that’s not the right response.”

Enlightenment struck on Saturday. I realized, because of thinking about judgement and people judging us, that I tell people these stories because I’m still seriously embarrassed about owning a chihuahua. Possibly mixed with a “mini-pin” according to one of our guests. I don’t even know what these minis are! But I tell people his history so that they won’t think me a chihuahua person, even while he barks to get into my lap and I follow his orders, and then spend the CAH game petting the lap dog who occasionally tries to lick my nose.

Fundamentally, I don’t need people to think me a good person for rescuing a stray: I just need them to know that I wouldn’t have gotten a chihuahua if he hadn’t wandered into my backyard and needed me. So now that I know that, I hope I can stop telling his story. Yep, I own a chihuahua. (OMG, how embarrassing.)

But the peril of judgement is that you never know all of what you’re judging. Every story has dimensions that the surface doesn’t show.

Life after death

07 Saturday Jun 2014

Posted by in Grief

≈ 1 Comment

A former colleague of mine lost his daughter today. It was her sixth birthday.

Doesn’t that suck? The loss isn’t any bigger, of course. The day after her birthday would have been just as bad, or the day before. Or a month later or nowhere near by. And yet, we notice special days. We celebrate them. We memorialize them. I suppose, long term, for the many years to come for my colleague and his wife, it’s not worse to have both those bad days–her death and her birth–happen on the same day. One miserable day a year instead of two, nothing wrong with that.

And yet, there are so many miserable days to get through before then.

I think I’m going to spend some time tonight practicing yoga breathing. Just breathe. One breath after another. In, out, and life continues.

Win at trying

06 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by in Depression, Personal

≈ 4 Comments

I can’t italicize a title, darn it.

Two blog posts in one day, ridiculous!

But my friend Tim said something to me tonight and I need to save it forever and this is the place where I save things forever, so… he said,

“You win at trying.”

It makes me want to do fist pumps, jump in the air and clap, turn my head up to the sky and shout in my loudest voice, “Yes.”

I win at trying. Getting out of bed is so hard sometimes and I do it anyway. When I can’t write the words, I at least open the files and look at them. It feels like nothing. I beat myself up about it. But I keep doing it, day after day after day.

And all I need to remember is to keep doing it. It’s not about finishing a book. It’s not about making a business work. It’s not about accomplishing anything. Never giving up is a success unto itself.

It’s my new life goal: Win at trying.

Memorial Day

24 Saturday May 2014

Posted by in Grief, Personal

≈ 4 Comments

R graduated from high school today. Go, R, go.

For various perfectly reasonable reasons, no one except me could make it to the ceremony. I’m pretty good at solitude, but it’s profoundly lonely to celebrate a milestone in isolation, to sit by yourself in the audience and applaud, and not have anyone to turn to and say, “oh, doesn’t he look good,” and “oh, look, he’s trying not to laugh” and just… not be able to share the normal stuff that people share.

And I was sad.

But then, for the first time since she died, I felt such a profound sense of my mom being with me. I could truly almost hear her saying, “Don’t be stupid, of course I wouldn’t miss this, I’m so proud of you both.”

And then, behind her, Malcolm, saying, “Stuff and nonsense. Don’t be silly.”

This Memorial Day, I am thinking of my mom, who I love and miss. Of Malcolm, who I love and miss. Of Michelle, who I love and miss. Of my grandparents and my great-grandmother. Of Marjorie. Of Leslie. Of Luis and Judith and Mindy. Of Denice and Margaret and Jan, who all died so much too young.

I know it’s the military that we’re supposed to be acknowledging, so kudos to my grandpa who went to Japan. And as many kudos to my grandmother who stayed at home, alone with an infant, fuming about how he’d enlisted when he didn’t have to.

But I remember them all and miss them all.

PS I’m writing a very depressing Tassamara story. It’s a wonderful outlet for tears, but I’m not sure what I should do with it when I’m done. Post it here? Mail it out? Bury it forever? Do you want to read about the reception after Dillon’s memorial service?

Self-realizations

19 Monday May 2014

Posted by in Personal, Randomness

≈ 6 Comments

We think we know ourselves.

We’re smart, self-aware, articulate people. (I’m assuming. But you know, you’ve got an internet connection and you’re reading my blog, you probably are smart, self-aware, and articulate. And you probably think you know yourself, too.) And then something happens that skews your whole world view sideways.

My kid made me watch the first episode of Hannibal when he was visiting at the beginning of April.

Oh, wait, no, that’s not what happened. My kid raved about Hannibal and said, every time, “You can’t watch it.”

I said, “Come off it, I want to watch, you love it, let me share your interests.” This is what moms of teenage boys say. Or think, anyway, even if they don’t say the words aloud.

He… well, if he was from another era, he would have thrown his hands up as he said, “Fine, on your head be it,” but he let me watch the first episode of Hannibal with him.

Twenty minutes in, I was hyperventilating. When the episode was over, he said, “What do you think?”

And I said, “It was awesome. What were you THINKING letting me watch that? Oh my God, that’s going to haunt me forever. Are you evil? Are you insane? How could you think that was okay? He TOUCHED him.”

I’m never going to watch another episode of Hannibal. One was enough. Also, it’s a brilliant television show and if you don’t have touch issues, you should probably watch it.

(If you haven’t seen the show, there’s a scene early on in the first episode in which the FBI guy–not, note the villain–violates the hero, Will’s, space repeatedly in minor ways. It made my skin crawl. I am pretty sure after the third time that FBI guy touched Will I actually got up and walked out of the room briefly because it was so unbearable.)

Unrelated, on an earlier occasion, C (hi, C!) told me that I was sensitive and I scoffed. I’m not sensitive, I’m tough. She pointed out that I will not watch television shows on which characters that I care about might get hurt and that that’s pretty much every television show ever. I… well, acquiesced. Yep. I don’t watch a lot of television. If there’s a character I like, I don’t want to watch him or her suffer. If there’s no character I like, why would I bother? If there’s no suffering–well, then there’s no story, so what’s the point? Resolution: read books, where things happen at the pace that I can tolerate.

All of this random rambling brings us to tonight. Today is the day of my first ever Bookbub ad. A Gift of Ghosts was, last I checked, at number 8 on the free Kindle bestseller list, the highest it has ever been. (Go, Bookbub, go.) I want nothing more than to keep clicking refresh on my Amazon page all night long, hoping I can catch it moving higher. But since that would be slightly insane of me and seriously boring, I decided to watch television instead.

I’m exactly the wimp that C and R think I am. As I skim through the shows, one after another, an entire universe of television, I realize that in this mood, there’s only one show that could possibly work: Love Boat. I want to see Love Boat. HEAs, all around.

My universe has kaleidoscoped and I’ve realized that I really am insane. Was Love Boat as bad as I remember it being? And/or as sweet? Because, honestly, that’s what I want to watch. Maybe I should hunt down some Harlequin romances to be the icing on the cake.

PS: Found an old Harlequin romance online, one that I read back when I was fourteen or fifteen. It took me approximately forty-five minutes to read and I feel sorta like I just ate a whole bag of M&Ms. Sugar overload.