An Acrobatic Extravaganza!

Hunger gnaws at me, tearing my insides apart. I should venture out for a nibble, a bite, a snack. Yet, I remain rooted, lost in a world that is not my own. Stuck between reality and nonexistence, I balance on a dew drop and one wrong move will cause my fall.

In one hand, I juggle the steal balls of work, family, and health. In the other, I juggle the flaming swords of writing, friends and recreation. As balls and swords intermingle in the air I hop between the thin wires of Mom, Writer, Manager, and Myself. All while blind folded. And such is my life, a never ending acrobatic extravaganza!

Sometimes I can manage with extraordinary dexterity. But every now and then, a ball with fall or a flaming sword will cut deep and the whole she-bang will come crashing down around me. I will fall into a pit of unknown doubts and nothing will come from it for a while.

But always I pick up the balls and swords, climb out of the pit and with a deep breath begin again.

Today, I feel on the brink of a fall, my reaction times are slowing and I catch the juggle with sweating finger tips. My shoes are wearing thin from the sharp wires. Should I keep up as I have been, knowing the pit awaits me? Or should I make my way to the edge, and take a break for a little while?

Every Little Ritual

Every writer has their own way to get in the zone. Some need to have their space set up just so. A certain order of events might have to happen for others. It’s a sacred ritual that many writers rely on, and I’m no exception.

I don’t have to have my writing space just so, I can write either at my desk or scattered across the kitchen table. I’ve also been known to nest into my easy chair with files and folders and papers spread all around me. I tote around my current WIP every where I go. Each space has to have a set order and its own unique ritual before I can pull the story from the Library.

My tools also have to be just right. I can’t use just any pencil, it must be mechanical with a rubber grip, size 5 lead, on the wide side with the clicker on the end and a good eraser. Not one of those rubber bits that just smug the lead, but a good one. I have to have wide ruled loose leaf paper. I also have to have a good red ink pen. Not one of those gel pens that smear if you don’t let it dry long enough. I like roller ball pens but they have to be reliable. I can’t sit there scratching waiting for it to warm up.

One thing that is universal in all my writing locations is the order in which I write. The first thing I write up is my goal list. What do I want to accomplish this time? Do I need to research anything? What other things do I need to write before I can start my WIP? Then I start on the smaller projects. A blog post, say, or a short story maybe. After that I dive into some research, but I only research the items I need to know for that writing session. Then, and only then, can I start the novel.

What if....

Today I didn’t get my magic in the morning, and it has really messed with me. I’m less able to cope with the demands of mother hood. It’s incredibly difficult to put words on paper. I’m one big ball of insaneness just ripe to burst at any given moment. Innocent bystanders beware.

It makes me wonder though, how other people react when something they’ve come to rely on doesn’t happen, either by choice or otherwise. How would Jamie react or Josh or Debbie and Iris? What do they rely on? What would happen if Penny couldn’t wear her ankle breakers? Would she lose her pep? Her bubbly personality? What would happen if Debbie didn’t have her Buba any more? Would she be unable to cope with the stress of a new life? What would happen to Jamie if she cut off all her hair? Would she lose her identity? What would happen to Amanda if no one catered to her anymore? Would she fall into a pit of self loathing or find another way to validate her worth? How would they then turn it around and grow to a better person? Would they grow to a better person or would they give up on that path and move to wickedness?

How far would they go to get it back? What would they gladly give up in exchange? Me, I’ll gladly give up sleep in order to get my sun rises. I’ll trudge through the week in a fog of sleep deprivation for those few hours in the morning when it’s just me and the click of the keys, the scratch of a pencil.

Today, I just want to hit the redo button and wake at my normal hour. Instead I’ll take deep breaths until my fingers tingle and work this nightmare of a morning into something I can use in my books. A way to make Jamie, Josh, Sarah, Penny, Rob, Debbie, Amanda, Renee, Iris, Shelia, Jake, Aleme, Matt, Hope, Faith, Lilly, Seth, and Star that much more of a person, that much more believable.

My Magic Morning

I’ve grown to really love my mornings and the silence in the house, the sleepy scene playing outside the window. I get to watch the sun set the mountain side of fire, see the flames lick down to the field below. Sometimes it kisses the dingy sides of cows, others the blaze highlights great birds in flight. Today, that field is empty, except a lone deer with her head bent to taste the dew.

Both girls are sleeping, little faces twitch with dreams and cheeks so rosy red. The cat is out, either hunting a rabbit or stuck in the tree. Mr. Fo, the forever fish, rests at the bottom of his tank. The only sounds inside this room: the click of keys, the sputter of coffee and the hum of the fridge.

I know this wonder will be short lived. I know soon enough the sun will finish her journey and her fire will leave the mountain a lush green. The babies will wake and fill the house with their unique music and the cat will beg for food as she hasn’t eaten all night, poor thing. Cartoons will drown out the crisp tap of words and the slosh of milk will over power the tinkle of coffee.

I find myself waking earlier each day, just for a few more moments of this magic morning. I gladly give up that little extra sleep for this time that is mine now. And as joyful as these few hours are to me, as priceless as they have become, I wouldn’t want it to last forever. That would ruin it, I believe. So, I’ll take this time and when the house awakes, I’ll bid it ado until tomorrow with a little grin and fully recharged to meet the crazy that is my life.

Oh My, What Have I Done

I woke in a panic this morning. It’s not hugely unheard of. Actually, I tend to wake in a panic more often then not. But that’s beside the point. This morning set me flying from bed before my eyes were open. Why? Tomorrow is the first meeting of my new writers group and I’m not as prepared as I would like.

Oh, I have a very good idea of how I want it to go. I’ve outlined and listed and contemplated it all. Or so I had thought…

The main topic is Motivation. It seems fitting enough as a good first topic. Finding the motivation to sit down and write. Without motivation, nothing would ever get down except dream a little about the idea of writing.

I figured I’d say a little bit on motivation, why it’s important, how to find your personal motivation, the keys to unlock the next door so to speak. Maybe do up a couple little things to help find, promote and grow motivation. Then turn the topic over to the group to discuss. That sounds pretty good. Yet, that’s all I have and I’m running out of time.

I have no idea what I’m going to say in regards to the topic, no little exercises in mind. Nothing but the idea of what I’d like to cover. Yeah, that’s not going to get my very far.

I’m also scared out of my left sock about the whole deal. What if I totally F it up? What if I come across as a know-it-all without a clue? What if no one shows up and I’m sitting there with a table of goodies; the fodder to small town gossip? What if everyone shows up and I’m standing there, being stared at and freeze up, turn blue even? Gah, this is messing with my head!

But despite all that, I’m really looking forward to it. And truth be told, I know, in some small little bit of my mind, that I’ll pull it all together in the nick of time, that people will show up, I won’t sound stupid and all I really need to do is have a few topic starters in mind and let the rest unfold. This is a group after all, not a lecture. This is where like minded people come together to share their knowledge and help each other grow as writers no matter what leg of the journey they happen to be on.

So, I’m going to sit back, have another cup of coffee and finish watching the sun rise. Tomorrow will be just fine. And if no one shows, well, I’ll have a nice long block of time to write, and a bunch of goodies to stuff my face with.

I Think I Need More Coffee...

Looking over the past month I’m floored at everything that happened. Did I really fit all of that into just one month? How is it my head is not spinning like a top while pea soup spews forth? Well, my head is firmly attached and the only pea spewing going on is all the Puffet’s doing.

Despite having switched jobs, moved across a mountain, over come a major health icky, wrote half a novel, started a writers group, battled an ogre, dived into networking, and manifested a new way of life altogether, I’m still sane and relatively unstressed. My being possessed is something that’s never been up for debate; I am and always will be which is why I avoid the above mentioned pea soup. But that’s another story completely. (see character take over’s)

This time of year, the cusp of Fall, always brings out my most productive side. Why? I have no flipping idea. I hate the cold and wet and dark of winter and Fall is just a nasty reminder that the misery is soon to come. Yet without fail, things get done at such a rapid rate I’m left breathless, dizzy and empty. Like taking one too many spins on a whirl-a-wig and losing that hot dog I shouldn’t have eaten anyway.

And it’s not just my writing that explodes into being, it is life events coupled with insane word/page counts. Oh, I just wrote 10,000 words today, so I think I’m going to finish that up by quitting my job and starting a new one in a whole new industry, just for giggles. I got 50 pages edited? Ok, I think I’ll pack up my two kids (again) and move across a mountain because I have nothing else to do. So what if I just wrote two newsletters, 3 shorts and half a novel, I must be board so I’ll battle an ogre while entering the world of networking and finding a new way of life. I just gave birth to a baby so I’ll start a new novel while moving out on my own and getting two jobs, because hell, why not?

Now, with my two girls, Bells and the Puffet, waking up to a new day, I know this one is going to be just as insane as the one before. If not more so. How much am I going to get done today? Am I going to knock out the rest of my novel, start a new one, fumble my way through the new job, slay a dragon and manifest that 20 bucks I’m short till payday all while organizing the first meeting of my new writers group?

I think I need more coffee…

There is Fact to Fiction After All...

I’ve never been the biggest fan of romance novels. They’ve always come across as a little too fake. That sappy, sudden and intense love the characters develop never sucked me into a state of suspended disbelief. Life just does not work that way, end of story.

It takes months to develop a deep connection to another person (your own children not included.) Sure, lust can smack you in the face and blind side you, masquerade as love. Yes, you can care for another after only a few moments. But love, real love that transcends the physical connection and human compassion? Yeah, I didn’t believe it was possible; thus, romances never held much for me.

Until recently, very recently, when I met a man. I knew right away that we would hit it off. We have too much in common; share too many interests, beliefs and passions not to. Then there’s the physical attraction, the chemistry, that spark that muddles my head when he’s near.

We spend hours upon hours talking about everything and that connection deepened. Over the course of a week, the impossible happened and now I can’t imagine my life without him. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me. The first time we hugged, just hugged, I had an intense sense of homecoming. The void in my life didn’t just fill in, it disappeared completely, it was as if it never even existed.

I’ve never been this truly happy, my patience with my girls has expanded ten fold, I find myself wanting to play with my children, a passion I never thought I was capable of. I look forward to waking up each morning and I can roll out of bed and face the day without working myself up to it.

Each day my pain gets less and this morning I woke up without being all but blinded with pain, I didn’t have a headache, sore joints or stiff muscles. My stress and worries haven’t disappeared by any means but I am better equipped to face them now.

Yes, I’ve learned a priceless lesson-there’s fact to fiction. Those sappy romances do have semblance to real life. It may be crazy, it may go against social norms but I could care less. I’m a better person, a better mother and a better writer for it and that’s what really matters. 

Here Goes Nothing

Branding – oh how I loath the concept. I’m not some burger joint trying to make a name for myself among the corporate giants. Wait…I guess I am.

Huh.

Instead of the cheap meat things I’m selling the written word and through them, myself. As a writer I’m still that unknown mom and pop on the corner in small town America. Now, I’m ready to spread my wings and expand my writing goodness to the rest of the world.

Boy, that scares the ever living crap out of me. Yet, there’s no turning back. I’ve already secured the safety bar and this roller-coaster is pulling me forward. Now all I can do is throw my hands high, take a deep breath and enjoy the wild ride waiting for me at the crest.