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.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Calming Beach is Live

Calming Beach is a short story that takes place between Where to Belong and Always & Forever.  It is told from Skyler's point of view.  I'm releasing it as an ebook only.  And it's free.  That's always a plus.

It has been nearly a year since Madison and Skyler married and relocated to the Turks and Caicos Islands.  Here, they are settling into a new life of their own.  Seemingly worlds away from Chicago and Morgan and all his goons, perhaps it is time for them to find happiness.  Yet, for two run-a-way miscreants, what kind of happiness can they expect?

Monday, September 8, 2014

*timid wave*

And it's September.  Time is funny like that.  I'm not sure where I left off last time. 

Getting used to the apartment life has gone differently than I thought.  I know I gripe and complain about it, but I think I like it overall.  But I will mention one gripe.  Though I love being on the bottom floor with a view of an undeveloped field, I'm not fond of the snakes that have been dropping by.  I've stopped counting them.  Only, I'm a bit more cautious when I open the door.

I've been too lazy with the cello lately.  I didn't sound well before.  I might have gotten worse.  Yet, I still don't want to give it up.  Am I too stubborn there?

August was extra busy.  Lots of traveling.  Lots of friends.  Good times all around.  I joined a volunteer campaign for the month.  It was a blast.  I do believe I need to get back into that line of work.

Writing.  Writing happens.  The only progress I would actually name is with Oneiros.  There's still two big scenes needing to be written out, but I've started revising it from the beginning.  Maybe I'm recovering from that rejection.  It's about time.

With revising Oneiros, I find myself thinking of other writing projects waiting for attention.  It's like I'm starving them to fatten up Oneiros.  Is that wrong?  I used to be able to juggle several stories at once.  Not anymore.

Oh, awkward moment this evening.  I was talking with an officer living in the next building over.  Wasn't much.  Hi. How are you?  I caught myself staring.  I'm sure he got the wrong idea.  Or I creeped him out.  Either way, conversation ended.  He reminded me of someone.  I didn't realize till I was back home, but I think he's very close to what I see my Garland as in Oneiros.  Would it be too weird to ask if I can take a picture of him?