Grinding your way forward does not match well with sickness.

 Dear Reader,

I was pretty seriously sick for most of the period that I wasn't updating here. I kept starting blog posts and then giving up because I couldn't think clearly to put together a sentence. Then I caught Covid. At first, I vainly thought that it was going to be a mild case because I'm vaccinated and I got my booster shot. Then came the dizzy spells that threatened to knock me down. There was a laundry list of symptoms that showed up over the first few days that I had it which made it harder and harder to function. No matter how strong your desire and will to do things, they're no match to dizzy spells that make you feel like you're on a tilt-a-whirl. And the exhaustion, oh good grief, I still have some of that fun lingering. (My go to solution for being tired in the morning did not work. I was drinking coffee because it soothed my sore throat it was odd.)

Sometimes, you just can't grind your way forward. The situation will force you to stop and rest. It will thwart your desires and possibly shake your confidence. In these moments, attack in the opposite direction and take cover. Rest, stay hydrated, and let the hellishness pass over you. Your work will still be waiting for you as you wait for the hallucinations stop. And, you never know, somewhere in the midst of the misery that you thole, you may find gold that you can use somewhere else, if you can remember it.

If you're not well, take care of yourself. The great work can wait until you're back on your feet.

Please forgive my extended absence.

 Dear Friends,

Life got screwy around here and I was having trouble being grounded enough to do my daily chores let alone my writing in any format. When that problem more or less resolved itself, I caught Covid and was sick for a month. To say the least it has been a trying experience. I am not going to make any promises that I'll be back in form for writing every day. But I am going to try. Some of this will mean preloaded blog posts that were written several days before hand and some of this may include reposting of old content (as a last resort). If nothing else, I may post a few funny memes that I have had sent to me.

I am still dealing with a lot of exhaustion and some other symptoms, but I am much better than I was last week. This has me hopeful that I can get writing done, possibly across all formats. Covid was an awful experience, even with the milder Omicron variant (which we caught at my house from school). The anti-viral medications are serious business but they taste awful and you have to choke down 4 pills per dose. I guess that's better than a horse pill, but it wasn't easy. Fortunately, I and none of my family lost our sense of smell or taste.

My eldest is making noises that he feels like he's caught a cold. Given that was how he felt when he caught Covid, I'm a little nervous. My youngest is just fine and had mild flu symptoms for his experience. And Beloved was taking care of all of us as he had the sniffles. It was a strange experience to have the whole household sick with the same thing and displaying different variants of how it manifests. I also envy the living daylights out of my husband's immune systems. It always happens like this, I get sick and I'm flat on my back for at least a week and he gets the sniffles. As he says "Well, somebody's supposed to take care of you." He's a sweet heart but I still envy his immune system. LOL

I could go on an extended rant about how my region has decided to treat Covid like it's the flu but I won't because that's a bit too far afield from the purpose of this blog. To say the least, I am not happy with it and my kids want to go to a school board meeting to demand the reinstitution of the mask protocol from last year. This is a big thing given how they dislike public speaking. But, we're all muddling by as best we can. I've finally turned something of a corner in my recovery as my congestion is clearing up. Now I just need more energy and I can get stuff done. But such is life when you get sick, right?

Editing is like pulling hen's teeth.

 Dear Reader,

I am currently working on line edits for a book in the Umbrel Chronicles of Evandar series. It is slow going and exhausting. I have discovered places where one character wound up with three different names. I have found typos galore. It isn't pretty. And this doesn't account for the fact that I still have to reformat the page size and type font for the entire document. 

Some of you may say, "Deb, why don't you hire an editor?"

The simple answer is that I'm broke. The extra money that could have gone towards getting this professionally edited and proofread is going towards my son's braces. It's the same reason why I haven't done anything like those nifty book trailers that you've seen on Facebook or paid for advertising. I just don't have the cashflow to make it happen. It forces me to sit down and go through a document a good six or seven times before I deem it ready for publication. It can take months, especially when my depressive episodes sap my ability to think clearly.

At one point, my mother-in-law told me how I needed an agent. She was convinced that if I had an agent that one of the big traditional publishers would be interested in my series of books. I mean, it's not everyday that someone says "Hey, we've got the first third of a thirty book series right here and it's not half bad. We just need to put it to press and slap a better cover on it." The problem is, since I have gone independent publishing, they want to see big purchase numbers before they are even remotely interested.

I don't have big purchasing numbers. I'm a small fish in a big ocean in a market that's rather glutted. It requires me to push advertising and the money for that is going for household needs and my kids' needs. If I won big ticket lotto, maybe I'd throw money in this direction. I don't know. By now, editing myself is a habit. Finish writing a book, set it aside for a few months, and then start the long process of edits and read throughs. I've gotten halfway decent at it, despite the word processor's attempts to correct my spellings and such.

I am very 'type a' about my writing. It is part of the reason why I am an independent author. I want that creative control over pretty much everything. I've heard horror stories from some traditionally published authors about how the manuscript got butchered in the editing and formatting process until it no longer resembled what they wrote. It happens a fair amount of time from what I have heard. I may not sell well, but I am telling the story that I want to tell. Not something that is watered down and filled with hype oriented concepts that will make it more 'appealing'. It's a measure of freedom that I don't think I am going to give up. Authenticity in my writing is the most important thing right after making sure that I get character names right and I clean up all the typos.

Science Fiction: Rs = 2GM/c^2

 Dregan heard the old intercom crackle to life as the Librarian gave orders for security to assist the technicians maintaining the Archive, to open the seed vaults, and prepare for an evacuation of the station. At the same time, via the link in his brain that connected him to the data network, the ship, and Angel, Dregan could hear something like static and a high speed code being transmitted. "Aeolus," Dregan said, "What is that code?"

"Security in the fore quarters of the building are being ordered to seize me. They will not succeed. Remain on the level below, as per my captain's direction. She is coming to meet you."

"You are a research class vessel, Aeolus," Dregan thought, slipping into a darkened doorway to hide from security officers moving past him, "How are you going to hold off an army?"

"Plasma thrusters to forward position. Maeson, you're on my six. Once we breech the building, we're going to take over the data network and bring the Librarian to his knees. Dregan, hold on level two beneath the primary atrium. Be ready for a second wave of forces. I want you to tell me if they're bringing the goods or not." Angel's voice sounded in his head, "Observe and hold position unless they're about to drop you."

Dregan pushed the door at his back open and stepped into the room, allowing it to swing shut partially. As he watched the Librarian came striding down the hallway with a young child in his arms. The child said to the Librarian, "But, Father, I do not want to die." The Librarian set the child down in the center of the lower atrium. He looked around the room at the different hallways leading off to different parts of the complex. 

"You were born to die," the Librarian said, "As are we all for the greater good of humanity." Dregan turned and looked around the room. Finding a chef's knife in the tiny space that served as a kitchenette for the security officer quartered there, Dregan picked it up and slid back to the doorway to watch. The Librarian took out their own knife and looked about again. "I know you're here somewhere, Dregan," the Librarian called, "Come out or I start with this one first."

Dregan opened the door as the Librarian's black velvet clad back was to him. Dregan darted forward, holding the chef's knife in his right hand and reaching out with his left as he rushed past the Librarian with terrific speed. Before the Librarian could do anything, Dregan had grabbed up the toddler clone and rushed into a room on the opposite side of the atrium. Dregan set the clone down on the floor. "Hide," Dregan said, "I'll deal with him. You're not going to die today."

The Librarian's footsteps echoed in the room with the arched ceiling and elaborate murals. "Dregan," the Librarian said, "You're not going on that ship." Dregan looked around the room and spotted a filet knife in a sink waiting to be washed. Dregan took it up and held both knives along his forearms in a reversed grip. "You may be a brawler, Dregan," the Librarian said, "But I know hundreds of knife work techniques in an array of historical cultures. I'm going to carve you to pieces. I've been waiting for this day for a long time."

Dregan stepped out of the doorway of the officer's quarters. As he did so, the door slowly swung shut behind him. "You talk too much," Dregan said as he began to pace around the Librarian.

"And you don't talk enough," the Librarian answered, "I have tried for thirty years to get you to give me the key to synchronization sickness. You are the only one who has survived it. I will carve open your head and inspect your link. I will upload the data into the core system and I will learn what ..."

Dregan darted forward and brought his left knife into play. The Librarian blocked it with his own knife as Dregan's right knife buried itself into the Librarian's guts. The Librarian looked shocked. Dregan's knife ripped upwards until it hit the sternum. Then Dregan angled the knife into the Librarian's chest and through his heart. As the Librarian sank to his knees, he said weakly, "That's not cloak and dagger technique."

"Aeolus, hack the Librarian's link again and upload all usable data," Dregan said.

"That will require uploading his entire consciousness," Aeolus said.

"Surely there's a data stack he can be dumped into storage in," Dregan said as the noise of fighting filtered down from above.

Aeolus didn't reply. The ship began the data upload even as the first shot with the plasma thruster was fired. The blast doors of the upper atrium were scorched but seemed still impenetrable. The Librarian's last thought before the data transfer was complete was terror and the sensations of indescribable pain as he was ripped from his dying body. "Data transfer complete. Data is stable and the personality is intact. The Librarian is now in stasis," Aeolus said, "Incoming forces on your level. Processing. The majority are not hostile. The hostile forces against you number sixteen."

"Spec-fucking-tacular," Dregan muttered. The toddler clone opened the door and looked at the body of the Librarian at Dregan's feet. They then looked up at Dregan. 

"Are you Father now?" the child asked.

"Sure, why not." Dregan said. The child sat down, closed their eyes and concentrated. Through the neural-linked data network of the clones, the child sent them the image of the Librarian's corpse and Dregan with the message that Dregan was now Father to the clones.

"Father, should my brothers and sisters continue to try to take the ship?" the child asked.

"No, the should stand down and assist in the rescue mission. Have them open the blast doors before they're turned into slag."

Aeolus and Angel, by virtue of their synchronized link with Dregan's mind could hear this conversation. Aeolus rotated the plasma thrusters back into their usual position. Angel continued walking down the gangplank with Maeson at her back. "Get ready, we're going to see how loyal these clones are to Father," Angel said. The blast doors of the main entrance of the seed vault complex opened. The armed clones stepped back and formed a corridor down the center of the space to the elevator down to the second level. Maeson felt sweat trickle down his back as the red haired man hoped that no one had an itchy trigger finger.

"Come upstairs, lover-boy," Angel said. Dregan took the toddler by the hand and helped them to their feet. They walked to the elevator and pushed the call button. The doors hissed open and they stepped in. When the elevator doors opened, Dregan's breath caught in his throat. She looked older. Her inky black hair now had streaks of grey and there were a few wrinkles on her face, but it was Angel. Dregan let go of the child's hand and rushed forward opening his arms.

Maeson brought up his rifle but Angel dropped her weapon. She let herself be caught up in Dregan's ferocious embrace. As he buried his face in the hollow where her neck met her shoulder, he gave a single body wracking sob. "I thought they killed you," he whispered.

"Funny," she answered in a choked voice, "I thought the same. I went off world after the company scrambled my brain. Aeolus unscrambled it." Maeson looked around, visibly uncomfortable. He coughed and muttered something about the damned cold. "Shut up Maeson, let me have my moment," Angel muttered back at him. Dregan gave a bark of laughter and straightened, still holding Angel close to him. He reached up and touched her grey hair.

"Silver looks good on you," he murmured.

"Father, where do we put the seeds? Where do we put the food and clothes?" the child clone at his side asked, tugging on the hem of his shirt. Dregan looked down at the clone with eyes like his and sighed. He let go of Angel and stooped to pick up the toddler who spoke like an older child.

"Creche?" Angel asked. The child looked at her.

"I can run five hundred simulations of the Creche in my pod," the child said. Angel paled slightly. Things earthside were far worse than she had thought. "Will we be bringing the pods?"

Aeolus's voice came through the speakers of the intercom system and the neural-links of all cybernetically enhanced units. "The Creche is not in my system and the sleeping pods are not linked into my system. Once we go starside, you will be free to decide if you wish to remain linked. The neural-link system you have depends on the satellites. Education will be provided as requested about the neural-link systems and their functions. At this time, please begin loading the hold with goods."

~ Fin ~

This serial story was a fun ride into science fiction. It holds a couple of clues as to the scifi project that I have sitting on the back burner. The origins of this story go back to 1998 when I was bored in Calculus class. The neural-link concept dates to then. Sorry, Mr. Musk, but I've got dated paper records on this project and a list of people who can attest to it.

News re: Serial Stories

 Dear Reader,

Next week, I will be updating Dacia's War. Later today, I will be updating The Iron Lily and that science fiction thing I've got going here. It'll be going up around 8pm Eastern time. I finally got through that pile of posts and even found some of my notes as I was deep cleaning in the living room. (My notes had some artwork on the back provided by my youngest son but he's of the inclination that if one side of the paper is blank it's fair game for drawing out his plans for robots and such.)

Craft of Writing: Let Your Past Antagonists Be the Villains.

 Dear Reader,

First, I'd like to apologize for my lack of posting. I have been unwell and it has everything topsy-turvy. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things but it is proving difficult. Which, in a round-about way brings me to the subject line of this post and the main theme. As authors and artists, we are told to work with what we know. At the same time, we are cautioned not to let our 'real' lives bleed into our work unless we are writing an autobiography or a memoir.

To use a bit of strong language, that second bit of advice is bullshit. Now, I'm not saying that you name names or doxx the person who bullied you relentlessly in eighth grade. But you can take their character traits, their personality traits, and the various qualities that made them who you knew them to be and use that to create a villain that you can avenge yourself by proxy upon that old bully. Your experiences are your own to do with as you please. If people don't like it, they should have treated you better. Especially when you are writing a memoir or an autobiography. That's where the kid gloves come off and you lay bare all the ugly facts and unburden yourself of horrors that you have lived through. 

Turning an old nemesis into a fictional villain can be a cathartic experience. Nearly every villain that's died in my books have had some elements of people who've done evil things to me in them. A few are full on reproductions of the person, but you would have to exactly who I was describing down to the intimate details that I am aware of about them to have a hope of identifying them.

Sometimes there are people who will actually threaten to sue you for defamation after they learn you are a writer and they've done you wrong. All it takes is some strategic fictionalization of qualities and exaggeration of other qualities for those people to be unable to have a legal foothold in such a lawsuit. Remember, always note that your characters are 'incidental' in their resemblance of real people, living or dead.

Craft of Writing: Keep a Book Bible or Not?

 Dear Reader,

I've been experimenting with trying to get all of my notes in order and creating a 'book bible'. This is the ultimate notebook of source material for your novel or series. I'd like to report that I've had some success with this but, honestly, I have so much material scattered over so many places that the act of collating it into one spot is hazardous. It is an exhaustive, labor intensive process to transcribe material that is in other places into one book. I simply don't have the spoons for it at this juncture to do so. It's a great concept but I am left digging through notebooks for snippets that I remember putting down and discovering more that I had forgotten about.

The closest thing I have to a book bible is a notebook that I filled with ideas back in 1998 when I had the first version of the first book come back to me from a shady company's contest shredded and discovered that the file for the book had gotten deleted because a certain someone decided that my book was definitely going to win a publishing contract and we didn't need the manuscript anymore. (Book one of the Umbrel Chronicles of Evandar has been rewritten three times before it reached its current form. Each rewrite was a result of nonsense like that.) I still reference that little notebook. But I simply have too much material scattered around to put it into a notebook and organize it.

I was disappointed when I realized I simply couldn't do this. Because the premise of having all of your material in one place to reference is fantastic. I am going to attempt to do this with other projects, but the Umbrel Chronicles of Evandar simply can't have a book bible. I'm too disabled to take the work out of approximately fifteen notebooks and jam it into one and then organize it. I am highly frustrated with this fact. At the same time, I have those notebooks in approximately the same space so I can find what I need after a few minutes of searching.

As it stands, anyways, those original plans and how the books are evolving are very different. Things took a hard left in book six and I'm not entirely sure how to fit the story back into the container that I had formed for it. But, I think the books are stronger and more interesting for deviating from the plan. This is also something that I can't go backwards and cram into a single notebook. The closest thing I could do is keep a plot log as I was writing. I tried that once. It was an awful experience.

So, if you're going to keep a book bible, start it at the baby stages of your project. Trying to go backwards and cram it all in later is madness.

Update Time!

 Dear Reader,

I have not been in good health over the last month or so. Well, actually a bit longer as you can tell by my gaps in posting. I've been having lots of problems with sleep which lead to a hypomanic episode. Those are extra fun (if only there was a sarcasm font). I have to distance myself from the internet and social media so that I don't say or do something horrifically stupid thinking that I'm witty when I'm actually mentally unbalanced at the time.

The hypomanic episode seems to have passed. (My project room is almost clean because I was compulsively organizing everything. I think I have enough yarn to insulate a tiny house now.) I am going to attempt to get back to writing material for you. It is difficult for me to concentrate because my brain is still a bit haywire due to my sleep issues. I am working with my doctor to resolve this. It is my hope that I will be able to get back to regular posting within the next month, at the latest.

Thank you again for your readership and your patience with me. This disabled author appreciates you bushels and bushels.

Edge of Night is live as paperback!

 Dear Reader,

I got Book Mail! Here's my author's copy of Edge of Night and I simply had to share it with you. It came out beautifully (and is a nice visual contrast to the infamous editing bench). It's now available as a paperback on Amazon and through other online retailers. Happy Reading! The story gets darker as evil rises.

Day two of a migraine, yippie!

 Dear Reader,

If only there was a sarcasm font. I would have used it and made it as big as possible for that title. I'm doing a bit better than I was yesterday. I really wanted to get on here and post a craft of writing thing but I was hardly able to see straight most of the day and light felt like I was getting stabbed in the face by the evil Day-star. Migraines suck, y'all.

Where do I begin? Last week was relatively awful on the brain front. Barely avoided a big fight with a relative because I focused my attention on mentally stabbing them in the eye as I was knitting on Mother's Day. I'm still kinda angry but I'm doing my best to just put it aside. I had a rotten week last week that kept me from writing just about anywhere because of my brain doing the I am depressed thing. Therapy writing was grueling and felt utterly useless. When I finally got through what is typically my morning writing routine, it was time for the kids to get home from school and then I was playing referee between two teenagers. (Yes, my youngest is twelve but he's got the attitude of a thirteen year old already.)

To say it's been rough over here is a big understatement. I didn't want this blog to linger in silence longer just because I didn't feel awesome. I wanted to let you know that I'm still here, just struggling to get time to write pretty much anything. We're coming up on a week of appointments next week and the boys have a track and field competition that Beloved and I are trying to figure out if we can make it to.

The remainder of this week is up in the air. I can see straight by the power of Excedrin but I've been typing slower than usual because I keep making typos that I have to go back and correct so you can actually read this. I hate migraines. And looking at the weather report for the weekend, I think I've got another one lurking Sunday into Monday next week. Ugh.

In other news, the paperback version of Edge of Night is out.

Errands, doctor's appointments, and gardening, oh my!

  Dear Reader,

Today has been a busy day and I'm not even half way through my list of things to do. I am working on getting the apartment cleaned up. I did a little gardening. (I think the Oregano is going to win the turf war with the Vinca Vine in the left hand bed, but who knows. It's still early in the game.) I have to take my son to a doctor's appointment because he got bitten by a tick when he was out hiking yesterday. It's just been super busy.

I will have the Craft of Writing post up as soon as possible. Fortunately, the weather has sorted itself out and I'm pretty sure that it will not be a week of migraines like last week. That two day migraine was awful and then one came along two days later because of that shift in the weather. Beloved calls me the human barometer because of this. He's not wrong. LOL

New Umbrel Chronicles Volume Coming Soon!

 Dear Reader,

I've been unwell and busy over the last few days. I had a migraine that lasted two days and I was finishing up the publication prep and process for Edge of Night: Book V of the Umbrel Chronicles of Evandar. I will have links for you soon. 

Here's the blurb:

The desperate deception of Askemb was doomed to failure. As the forces loyal to the true Queen of Evandar try to plan their next move, the elf-woman Sideria makes an astonishing discovery deep in the heart of Dragonwood Forest. A discovery that could change the course of everything. In the White City, the High Council votes on Askemb's claim to rulership over Dakon-Bar and all of the Seven Kingdoms of Evandar. Treason awaits. Away to the east, the turncoat Douglas struggles towards redemption. Meanwhile, the deamon Axeron tightens his grip and bides his time until true Darkness falls on the world of men.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Just as I was about to hit post, the ebook has hit the market! Grab a copy and a cup of coffee. ♥

Craft of writing: Just Keep Pushing Forward.

 Dear Reader,

Last week, I said that I was going to share my most helpful resource from my library on writing but there's been a bit of a change of plans. I realized that really was going to be a rather trite and rote type of post. There are a lot of books about writing out there that give a great deal of good (and not so good) advice. So, please forgive this hard left in topic. It's still focused on writing more effectively, but looking at the emotional element of writing.

Way back when I was working on book one of the Umbrel Chronicles series, I had a rape scene I was writing. It was not excessively graphic, but it was enough to trigger my c-ptsd from being raped myself. It took me a solid two weeks to write a scene that was less than one page. At one point in the process, I was ready to abandon the whole story because I just couldn't get the words out because of how upset I was. I pressed forward despite my discomfort and wound up writing a realistic and gut wrenching scene.

How? I took my despair, grief, and horror over what had happened to me and channeled it into the scene I was writing. It was painful to write. It was probably one of the most painful scenes that I had to write in that book. (There were others that were difficult, but this scene ranks number one.) Sometimes, you have to push through the pain to write something that will evoke a true response in your reader.

The trick is to remember that all forms of writing is a conversation with your wonderful friend, the Reader. Some of what you are going to share is going to probably fall flat, not every scene is going to be perfect. But, if you take what you are working with in the struggle of writing that scene and turn it into fuel for the scene, your scene will go to a whole new level of empathetic realism. You will successfully communicate the concept and evoke the feelings that you want from your reader by pouring your feelings into your writing.

Right now, I'm struggling with pretty low confidence about my writing. I feel like I'm a hack. It's kind of bitter irony that I am writing a blog post that is encouraging others in their writing when I feel like I'm not good enough. But, this is where I'm practicing that 'just keep pushing forward' exercise. It's making this post rather grueling to write, especially this last bit. When the brain weasels are telling you to just delete everything and focus on your houseplants and knitting, it's a tough writing day regardless of topic, genre, or length. Hell, even a grocery list is challenging on days like today. 

But, the fact that I didn't give up and I kept pushing forward is a victory. The fact that I have bared my heart to you in all honesty is in keeping with what I was taught is one of the core principles of writing: Write the truest sentence you can. I know I've done that. And if I can do that in the midst of being depressed, anxious, and very distracted by the neighbor's dogs going bananas over the wind blowing, I know that you can do it too. It may be one word at a time over a length of time. That's ok. We're not in a race, you and I. We're just doing our best with what we have. Sometimes, our best doesn't look magnificent and polished on the first try. But that's what editing is for, right?

Trying to pull up out of a stall isn't easy.

 Dear Reader,

My late Grandfather was a pilot. One day, he was talking to me about how it takes a lot of guts, skill, and knowledge of your craft to pull an airplane out of a stall. I've been stalled and the ground's coming up at me at terminal velocity, but I'm not worried because I can kick start the engine and pull this thing out before it crashes. I've done it before, I can do it again, it's just been a wild few weeks.

That side business that I was doing reading tarot cards went belly up in the ugliest way possible. That kinda left me emotionally reeling. What I thought was a long term book project appears to be falling apart and this has me struggling after all the effort I put into it. I'll be taking those books and putting them aside in case that stalled project turns out not to have crashed. But it's taken a bit of an emotional toll on me to have these things happening.

My days are completely out of sorts because what schedule I had is gone and I am now in the process of rebuilding my schedule. I will be posting material more frequently now that I have more time. I will also, hopefully, be making more progress on my books. Check back in Monday for a Craft of Writing post. I'll be talking about the most valuable reference book that I own. I've probably already done a post on it and it's buried in the archives, but this book has been so helpful that it deserves to be posted about again.

The serial stories are going to take a little time because I have to review my notes (once I find them in this mess) and figure out where I was going with things. I can't give you a date when the next installments are coming, but they will be out in a little while. I'm also going to take the previous installments and wrap them together into an ebook at some point. This way you can read the whole story from the comfort of your e-reader and not waste time on the internet scrolling through a blog post. 

♥

Craft of Writing: I've got Nothing.

 Dear Reader,

I have no pithy comments or witty bits of inspiration for you. I've been slogging through the tail end of a depressive episode and about a month of chaos. I am not participating in Camp NaNoWriMo because I have barely had time to write in my daily journal, let alone take care of other tasks and projects. It's been rough going here.

My dear friends, I deeply appreciate you and your faith in me. When I have days where I feel like all is useless and hopeless, Beloved reminds me that I have you all out there eager to read what I have to share. My husband is a dear man and quite smart. I really should listen to him more often when my moods get down and the brain weasels are gnawing on me. I would like to apologize for the fact that I left you all in a lurch. I sincerely planned on doing more writing. Then I got sick for a week. My kids had a surprise superintendent conference that shot one day of work down. I forgot that they had a week off the following week. And there was the business of Easter dinner with my in-laws, which is always an experience.

Now that things are beginning to settle down, I hope to start posting more often. My side business reading Tarot cards is defunct. It is simply because the platform that I was on became unfriendly towards readers like myself who don't fit the newer business model that the new president of the company envisions. I was on there from 2007 until a few weeks ago. It wasn't super profitable but it boosted my confidence a bit to actually make money using a skill that I have.

I've decided to take this as a sign from the Universe that I must focus now on my writing as a serious business effort. I know nothing about  marketing. I am rather ignorant about traditional publishing but I seem to be doing ok for a beginner in a niche market as an independent published author. I'm attempting to screw my courage to the sticking place and actually submit work to publications. The last time I did that, there wasn't any reply back or anything. The time before that, it was a fly-by-night operation that tried to steal a book that I wrote. I sent them a nastygram and I got my manuscript back, shredded. (This was in the late 90s when people were still accepting paper submissions.) The experience has me a little gun shy about trying to get work out to magazines and such.

But, life has altered my course and I suppose it is time to get to work. Tomorrow, I will not be on-line and there will not be a post because I am going to the eye doctor to get checked for glaucoma. I am as nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory but Beloved is confident that everything will go well. Look for another post from me on Thursday.

April is Camp NaNoWriMo: Will I participate?

Current embroidery project

 Dear Reader,

So, April is one of the two sessions of Camp NaNoWriMo. It is the more convenient one because it has 30 days in it like the official NaNoWriMo in November which makes planning word count goals a bit easier. I don't know if I will be participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this April. I'm still having lots of anxiety problems and I'm not coping very well. 

It is likely that I will continue pouring a great deal of effort into my therapy writing. I don't feel comfortable about setting word count goals for that. Some days I can manage to write up to 1k but most days I'm lucky if I get a few hundred words out before I start freaking out over the trauma content in it. This business in Ukraine (and it's Ukraine not 'the Ukraine' which was a Soviet propaganda effort to delegitimize Ukraine's status as a nation, I only recently learned this fact, so I'm sharing it) is triggering a lot of stuff that I thought I had dealt with.

I am part of Gen X and I grew up under the threat of the Cold War for most of my youth. My parents had insane things to say about life during that period. They talked about inhumane things that we would 'have' to do to survive, like cannibalism, if Russia dropped The Bomb. I was frequently told my only value would be as meat for the pot, a laborer to keep my brothers alive (stack rocks outside the place they could shelter if a Bomb got dropped and wait for the adults to show up, not go into the shelter myself), or someone that could be traded off as chattel if someone was looking for something out of us.

My parents were not the most stable or in touch with reality at that period of time, to be honest. It was brutal and ugly. A lot of my childhood trauma goes back to that era of my life. With this war in Ukraine happening, I've been having flashbacks and struggling to cope. I don't really know what to do with this stuff that's coming up. I've been doing embroidery to keep me from freaking out. But, it's not working so great.

But all this trauma stuff is making it hard to write fiction. I don't know if I'll participate in Camp NaNoWriMo or if I'm going to skip it this year.

It's going to be a rocky re-start.

 Dear Friends,

It's been quite a while since I have posted. I want to apologize for that. It was not because I didn't want to or because I simply had given up on this blog. Way back last August, I started having health problems due to my C-PTSD, namely sleep issues. These issues got really bad and started me having problems with my bipolar disorder (on top of the issues of seasonal affective disorder). To say the least, I was working with my doctor to get it all sorted out. Things really came to a head in January, when I decided that I had to take a step back and do some focused therapy work.

I had initially thought that it was going to be two weeks. It turned out to be much longer and much harder than I expected. I am finally getting to a place where I have a measure of equilibrium again and I can resume my writing work. I am going to attempt to jump back in on topics that have been languishing. I also am going to try to bring some new material to the table. It is, however, going to be challenging and I may not be able to hit all my goals initially. 

I appreciate your readership. I appreciate your patience and support. And most of all, I appreciate your encouragement. Thank you for waiting for me to come back and I will do my best to bring you the best of my work over the coming weeks as I work on getting back into the saddle.

Going radio silent for a few weeks.

  Dear Reader,

You may not be aware but I have been struggling with some ongoing mental health problems since last August that has severely impacted my life in a number of ways. I am taking the next few weeks to do some intensive therapy work to try to get that problem under control again so that I'm functional and I can get back to writing again. In the meantime, I will not be posting here because I expect I won't have the time due to the  plans for how to approach this therapy process. I hope to be back to post again and interact with everyone via my social media platforms soon. I just don't know how soon that is going to be.

Wish me luck.

Craft of Writing: Working through Illness.

 Dear Reader,

I am a person with multiple chronic conditions. I am technically disabled due to them (but Social Security disagrees with my psychiatrist on this, screw them /rant). On a good day, I can pass for someone who is perfectly fine, albeit a bit weird. But the weird part has always been there, long before I became disabled. A creative mind is often one misunderstood by others and labeled weird. (Again, I could go off on a tear on this topic, but I digress.) It's really hard to work when you are ill, regardless of weather or not it is a chronic condition or not. Feeling rotten is often the enemy of productivity more than mere procrastination.

Currently, I am in a depressive episode and dealing with some c-PTSD fun. (If only there was a sarcasm font.) I struggle to keep up with my household tasks and my two very active children. When they're at school is my ideal time for writing but with this rotten feeling rattling around in my brain, I find I want to sleep until I feel better. (It doesn't work out that great for depression. 0 stars.) I also find myself struggling with executive function.

Now that's a term that might have thrown a few of you for a loop. Executive function is your ability to decide to do a thing and carry through on getting it done. Problems with executive function vary widely for many different reasons, like if you're so feverish that you have the focus of a goldfish then you're having executive function problems. Depending on the severity of your executive function difficulties, you may want to just put down the pen and step away from the word processor. If you have the focus of a goldfish, you are going to struggle to be coherent in your writing, to use that earlier example.

You have to know your limitations and work within the boundaries set by them. This can be maddening when you're literally months behind on work. When all you can manage is about fifteen minutes of work before your brain turns to mush on that front, just do the fifteen minutes of work. You can come back to it later when your brain is functioning a bit better (like after a nap for the poor soul with that fictitious fever). Pace yourself. 

Recognize that if you push yourself too hard when you are unwell, it only makes things worse. Your brain being mush will last longer the harder you push because you're not allowing yourself to rest when you need it. Take breaks, stay hydrated, and be patient. Even chronic illnesses will eventually get to a point where you can work at a rate that you're used to if given enough time. Let me give you an example from my own life as a disabled person. Because of my depression problems, I have about six months out of the year that I can work like a demon. The other six, I can barely string a sentence together and I suffer from dread of past trauma happening all over again despite the fact that it's been decades since the incidents in question.  This post is a bit of me pushing myself to write despite the fact that I am not doing well.

When Spring hits, the amount of sunlight my region gets up to a level that my Seasonal Affective Disorder (I hate it and I think it has the worst acronym ever.) goes into remission. From Spring until Autumn, I can work at a much higher rate. I have clearer thinking and more creativity. It's generally a much better time for me. Right now, I'm in the middle of SAD related misery and that triggers me c-PTSD. It makes everything a bucket of suck. So, I try to grind my way forward. I'm not a good example to follow on the front of taking breaks. I get mad at being ill and then try to force the situation to my will. It typically has mixed results for the task and I wind up feeling worse afterwards. I'm still learning to pace myself.

The Iron Lily and Dacia's War on hiatus.

 Dear Reader,

I'm suspending my serial stories until I am in better health. As of the moment, I am dealing with a rather intense bout of depression and some unpleasant complications from my c-ptsd that are making it very hard to write fiction. I've been spending about two to three hours a day for the last week doing therapy journaling. It's been grueling and painful. I am going to suspend my Artist's Way: Morning Pages posts because that is the time I have been spending on legit therapy work.

I hope to come back to these serial stories and move the plot forward. I can't do that yet, however, because my brain is rather scrambled and I'm struggling to function. It's just one of the joys of being disabled. This stuff is why August 2021 was so quiet. I was in crisis mode for several months. When NaNoWriMo popped up, I honestly wasn't sure if I'd be able to participate. Somehow I managed it, though the manuscript is incomplete as of this time.

It is my dearest hope that my spending time intensely focusing on my mental health that I can sort out the chaos in my head and maybe get back into a productive writing/creative mode. I don't know if this is going to be something that takes a month or if it is going to be a bit longer. And I really don't know how to describe it with out sounding like I've gone completely off the rails. Let it be enough to say that I am not well right now and I am struggling with creative work on most levels. It's hard for me to find the energy to knit even a little baby sweater for my niece's child, despite the fact that I started it a while back. It's that bad.

Craft of Writing: It's not retreat, it's attacking in another direction.

 Dear Reader,

Life's been hard and complicated due to health reasons for me. It has lead me to doing a new form of journaling that is hard for me. As I have been working very hard on this stuff to try and glue my head together, I am reminded of a military expression that's been thrown around in my family for a long time.

It's not retreat, it's attacking in another direction.

I'm not sure if this came from the Marines in the family or from the Army soldiers. It's one of the things that I try to apply in my life when I have to stop, step back, or otherwise change direction on a project (or pretty much anything else in my life). You're not giving up when you have to change position, you are simply changing position and approaching your problem/enemy from a different front. This little military bit of wit has been a profound source of comfort when things get hard. (Sounds strange, comfort from the military?) I haven't been defeated or failed because I had to change what I was doing. I just had to change and attack from another direction. That direction might be back forty yards from where I was initially standing, but it doesn't mean that I'm not still fighting.

Doing anything as a disabled person can be exhausting. You get a limited amount of energy to do things. The way I try to work around this is scheduling my day extensively. The fairly rigid structure of my day is somedays exactly what I need to carry me through when I'm not doing well. On other days, it is oppressive and it makes things harder. Those days, I back off and try things from a different angle. And on the days that I just can't do things, like when I had migraines for three days in a row last week, I rest secure in the knowledge that hiding behind a shieldwall for a moment to catch your breath doesn't mean that you're out of the fight. It's making a tactical maneuver to reserve your energy for when you can strike.