Tuesday, July 21, 2015

The Death of a Novel

I know everyone has their own breaking points.  Maybe this is the bump just before the break.  Whatever it is, I quit.  On one, anyway.  Certain things that are not progressing in my life tell me to let this one go.  More will probably follow, but I can't say for sure.  It's been a pain to keep this manuscript alive.  Now, with a lopsided headache and shaking hands, I expel the pieces to the bottom of the drawer.

It will be out of sight for a time.  As days go by, perhaps I can make myself delete the fragmented tale.  The thing about stories ... you can pull the plug and let it die in your mind, but you don't have to arrange a memorial for it.  No one else knew it existed.  No one else knew the characters.  No one else knew the role.  Someone may have seen little shadows of it in passing, but not enough to miss in its absence. 

A part of me believes that to be sad.  Even still, I have to question ... is sadness an opinion or a fact?  It can be venomous and debilitating.  It feels everlasting.  But once you step away from one adventure, there is another waiting to erupt around you.  There always will be.  I have found this to be true as a quitter of many things.

No, it's not encouraging or anything I am proud of.  Yet, it has happened before and will undoubtedly happen again.  A hope evolves into a farce.  Recognize the waste of time and energy, acknowledge your losses, then go your way.  If you stand beside the wreckage too long, you will also begin to succumb into ruin. 

I do not see myself in any of my writings, but I feel something die within me when one fails to breathe. 

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Bring on the Madness

Not really.  I'd like to avoid as much crazy as possible.  This week, and probably the one to follow, will be full of it.  There is a wedding this weekend.  I'm not the planner for this one, just did part of the planning and am now with the group that will decorate the reception hall.  So a load of flowers is supposed to arrive later this week.  I'm going to have to find a way to store them and protect them from my flower-loving cats.  There will we house guests, but that's no biggie.  And the bachelor party will be here.  I'll probably be hiding with the flowers.  Saturday is the wedding, and unless I can pull off some magic tomorrow, I will have exactly one hour to set up the reception hall with one other person ... whom is on crutches.  But no worries.  It's gonna work out.  No choice.

And we have another cat.  I went to the shelter to pick one up that I've been watching online.  She was adopted out before I got there, so I wasn't needed.  Besides, we really didn't need another cat, I was just worried because she had been in the shelter for a long time and I was afraid she was running out of time and might get put to sleep.  Awesome sauce to the people who adopted her.  Then, Saturday morning, someone dumped a kitten in front of our house.  Little baby calico.  Unique coloring.  So we brought her in and fed her, took her to the vet for a check-up and shots, and brought her back to the house and let her run with Diesel and Oliver.  Oliver growled for a while, but I expected that much.  He is comfy with life just the way it is.  Diesel pays close attention to the kitten, following her around and playing.  She is learning all his traits.  Not sure if that is a good thing or not.  We'll see if we can find her a home soon.

Nausicaa (the sugar glider) has seemed to forgiven me for taking a weekend away.  She is now sitting on the armrest of my chair while I'm typing.  She's yelled at me today, but I deserved it. 

And I guess that's it for now.  Way past my bedtime and I think Nausicaa has done enough exploring tonight.  I haven't made any new toys for her today, but snacks have happened.  Who doesn't love snacks?

Saturday, May 16, 2015

The Flavor of Panic

It starts with a spot of pressure, a presence in my chest.  It's more of an irritant at first.  I'll ignore this.  It's nothing.  The spot grows.  It somehow has grown to engulf my lungs.  They're tight.  They won't pull in air.  The pressure is now a hungry fire.  I cough to clear my throat.  It accomplishes nothing.  Icy daggers now prod from within my stomach.  Nauseous, shaky, dizzy, and wobbly ...  it's not going to let me ignore it.  Every muscle that forms this confounded body tries to fight back.  It takes all I have not to crumple into a ball.  Frustration, fear, anger, and confusion battle for precedence in my exhausted mind.  Heat and cold wrap around me in waves.  Being soaked in sweat makes me feel even more sickly.  It isn't going to stop.  Don't try to stand ... my knees will not hold.  Speech will not happen.  It only results in idiotic noises and nonsense.  Black shadows steal away my vision.  That's ok, I don't think I'm seeing all that well anyway.  It's best not to fight it.  It will pass more quickly.  The post-spaz aches will be the same either way.  I can only hope someone is near and that they know what is going on.  No paramedics or doctors.  They can only ask the same questions over and over again as if my answers will change.  Just open the pill bottle.  Thank goodness it's a tiny tablet.  There would be no way of swallowing anything the size of a jellybean.  But my fingers cannot find the little pill.  My hands are as flimsy as a bunch of two week old bananas trying to pick up a melting ice cube.  By this point, sound is nearly nonexistent.  All I can hear is muffled voices and the pounding of my heart in my ears.  I have to catch my breath to try down a mouthful of water.  Don't drown.  If I can get my throat to cooperate, bring on the pill and more water.  Please, not a glass.  I cannot control my trembling and spastic movements.  Let's not crack a tooth on the cup or bite a chunk out of the glass.  That will only lengthen the life of this party.  Now all I can do is wait.  Wait for the meds to kick in.  Wait for the panic to calm.  Wait for air to fill my lungs.  Wait for my stomach to stop tearing itself apart.  The flames and ice crawling through my body eventually fade into a warm tingling sensation.  This is where the nick name I've given these pills comes from.  Warm fuzzy.  Like an over-sized blanket fresh from the drier.  Soak it up.  Rest.  Perhaps sleep will erase the discomfort that has wracked this body.  Stillness is perfect.  My ears hum.  That's better than the ringing.  I can handle the hum.  It lulls me to sleep.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Back to Normal ... If There Ever Was a Normal

The hedgehogs are all rehabbed and have new homes.  Bill went to his new home yesterday.  His family is super excited to have him and I've got a feeling they are going to spoil him even with his grumpy attitude.  So now my office/writing room is back to the computer and the sugar glider.  Oh, I've finally named her.  Nausicaa.  There's two dots over the last a, but I don't know how to put that in on this computer.

My book-mommy instincts made me a bit grumpy earlier this evening.  There is a new fitness center across the road.  Their name is the same name I picked for my Baldorian army forever ago.  I guess that's what I get for flopping on the job and not getting The Veiled Heiress out where it belongs.  I don't think I can persuade them to rename the place.  Grrr.

I haven't done anything to propel my NaNo numbers.  Shame on me.  But I've goofed up on some personal stuff, so I'll most likely be hiding out in the house for a while.  Maybe that will be a help.  Grrr again.

Wow, this place is quiet at night! 

I had something I was going to post about, but I've managed to misplace it in the webs of my mind.  So here's a short post.  I needed to get back to the blog anyway.  I think it needs some updating.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Are You Out There?

I ignore my blog as much as I do my writing anymore.  Shame upon shame.

Now in a house.  So nice to have a place to ourselves and know we have a spot to park our cars when we come home.  Lawn wars is so on.  The lawn is winning.  I'm cheating.  Mow and trim the front yard and keep the gate closed so no one can she the jungle out back.  I know I can't do that forever, but it's holding for the moment.

Camp NaNoWriMo  is coming up.  April.  I'm completely unprepared, but that seems to work best for me in the writing department.  And Camp NaNo is easier on the 'rules'.  So I'm gonna see if I can't make myself finish A&F and get it out.  I have been informed there is a book club waiting for the final book.  They made it clear that it needs to be released SOON.  Yes, Ladies, this is going to happen.  Thank you for your patience and for not hunting me down and flogging me.

Also working as a wedding planner.  That is going well.  Lots of fun stuff and plenty of, "I'm an adult and will not kick this person in the shin."  It's amazing how businesses conduct business.  #willnotrant  #willnotnamenames

And the hedgehog rescue!  The first hedgie I took in was named Spike.  He came from Arlington, Texas.  Thus, I called him Spike Arlington.  (tada!)  He had a few issues.  Mainly dietary and dietary related problems.  Changed him to hedgehog chow and freeze dried bugs and he was loads better.  Still a little on the hefty side for his age, but he was doing great.  And so he was adopted out last week.  I miss hearing his exercise wheel running all hours of the night, but I'm hoping he's adapting to his new home.  The young man who took him in already has a collection of hedgies, so I trust him to make sure Spike stays in good shape.

The second rescue brought in is going to take longer.  We named him Bill.  He came from Austin, so you have Bill Austin.  He's not a happy guy.  He's on an RX and a regular diet, so he's slowly coming around.  Warning, he does bite.  He isn't nice.  But if I were treated and dumped in the condition in which he was, I think I'd bite too.  We give him his space.  He's not growling as much lately.  His quills are beginning to grow back.  These two facts alone make me feel much better for him.  I was afraid the vet was going to recommend putting him down.  But he did warn that Bill's condition would get worse before it gets better, so maybe we're past the worst of it.

The sugar glider is sitting next to me watching me type.  I've yet to name her.  She is an incredibly interesting creature.  She's clever and has a very good memory.  I'm hoping as long as I keep up the steady supply of fresh apples, we will continue to get along.

Anywho, back to the realm of writing.  In all honesty, A&F is being forced.  Oneiros and Tarny have been on my mind.  Science Fiction and Fantasy will be the main stage I'll be writing from.  I can't explain it, but they are easier to stick with.  Ahh, and Bertie Wells steals my attention here and there.  That one is growing.  It was looking to be another short story, but I think I'm overfeeding it.  I just hope it's not in a bad way.  Growing stories are always a trip.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

New Grounds

I've talked myself into writing a new post today ... how many days since my last post.   Even still, it isn't coming along very quickly.  Just watched the sun come up.  Now I have two kitties oh so patiently waiting for their morning feast.  Breakfast sounds good right now.  Cookie the Hate Bird is chirping her wake up song.  I don't think she's really awake.  It's a slow, broken song.  So it's quiet here.  If all goes as planned, this will be the last morning in for us in the apartment.  Most everything is already moved into the house ... maybe two miles up the road.  Colt stayed the night there.  He's become more excited about moving into the house than I have.  It's the moving part that gets me.

Colt started a new job at the beginning of this week.  We'll be in a new home by the end of it.  That's lots of change.  Hoping to keep it a good change.  Oh, and I've taken on the role of a wedding planner.  The big day is in December, so this will probably keep me busy for awhile.  A good busy.  So I need to get my desk area set up for editing, writing, letter writing, sewing, and wedding planning.  Yes, it's a big desk.

We'll see how many trips it will take to get the rest of this stuff shuttled over to the house.  There wasn't a real rush to move in.  The lease on the apartment has a little more time on it.  We're required to leave it in a perfect state (which has become a bit of a joke), so I'll have several days to dedicate to the supreme cleaning of our dwelling of one year.  It won't take much.  I think it's more about me being a stickler.  Oh, but I will miss the pecan grove.

So I'll go find some breakfast in a box, then pack up the hatchback Volvo with as many boxes as possible, and see how much stuff I can get moved on my own before our help shows up after lunch.  That little car holds more than I thought it would.  As does Dillon's Mini.  Yes, the truck would have probably had it finished by now, but I'm kind of proud of how much we have accomplished with two door, hatchback coupes.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Drawing Board

As all of you know, I have too many books waiting to be finished.  Always & Forever ... I will make no excuses.  Oneiros ... I'm pushing A&F.  Lots of other scribbles along the way.  The one story I've been working on for more than a decade is Shattered Remnants.  Book I - The Veiled Heiress has seen many, many rewrites. 

They've struck again.

There were a few elements within the Shattered Remnants series that had me uneasy.  While it is a story that my mind and imagination and weirdness has conjured up, I've not been happy with it as a whole.  It's been about two weeks that I finally stepped back and gave it an ultimatum.  Either leave me alone and I delete everything that has to do with the series, or evolve into a story that doesn't pretty-up things I don't stand for.  The quitting won for a while.  I cried over it.  Lost sleep.  Hated everything.  But why?  It's stupid to be like that.  It's just a story ... and it's only in my head.  It's not out there for others to miss if I threw it away.

Recently, it has began to reform.  It's hard to say if it's still the same story.  The characters are there.  The conflict is there.  The love and the fear is there.  The dangers and threats still exist.  But it has a different feel to it.  I'm undecided. 

I want to see this story, above all my other stories, come to life.  I want this one in print.  I want it on shelves.  I want it to have loyal fans.  It's my baby.  I want to see it through.

So there you have it.  I'm at another fork in the road.  It's beyond clear that I need to wrap up A&F and Oneiros.  They're done in my head.  Why can't I get them to transfer to the file?  Ugh.

... still trying.