Category: real life

Time Flies

So, I just wrote four pages—my page goals for the past two weeks—in one sitting! Not that four pages is astonishing or anything, but it’s writing, and my characters and their world are starting to come to life for me. Which is a good thing, obviously, since what’s the point of writing about dead characters? (Unless they’re zombies or vampires. Then, maybe.)

The story is starting to burn in the back of my mind now, and I love it. I wish I had more time to spend writing, but…I don’t. it’s not that I waste a lot of time on TV or anything like that, I just don’t have time to get everything done I need and want to do. There are several non-negotiables in my life:

1) God. I give my time to Him in various forms, and that won’t stop.
2) School. Do I even need to say that this is a huge priority?
3) Work. Obviously, not working isn’t an option for me.
4) Training. Have I mentioned that I’m doing a half-marathon in December, and hiking the Grand Canyon next May? This will require some time.
5) Writing. Beyond school stuff, and the fiction, I have three blogs. (Well, four, but the fourth has lapsed for now.)

So you see my problem here? If my days had like 28 hours in them, I would be golden. Sadly, I don’t have Hermione’s Time-Turner, so that option is out for me. I’m sure I could better use my time, but I’m at a loss as to how. If anyone has any suggestions, tips, tricks, apps, ideas…I would love to hear them. I need help with this! My Muse wants to write, and I want her to be able to.

fits and starts

I actually sat down and wrote a couple of pages the week before last. Not an astonishing amount, I know, but actual writing, so I’m good with it. Then school started last week, and my “free time” dwindled to “none”. I didn’t work on The Fall at all last week. However….

Did I mention I’m taking Creative Writing this session? I’m less than thrilled about it, as I knew it would involve writing short stories and poetry—a.k.a Things I Hate to Write—but it’s required, so what are you going to do? So I actually did two writing assignments last week, of a couple of pages each, plus discussion board postings. So I wrote. It just wasn’t fiction.

This week, I totally intend to remedy that Lack of Fiction Writing in my life…starting today.

Is This “Working”?

So, I may not have instant Internet access (and probably won’t for several more months—UGH), but I do occasionally get the chance for perusal of blogs and writers’ sites. I’ve noticed something a few times lately, and it’s made me wonder: a Donation Button (i.e. a “please give me money” link).

I don’t recall having seen these before the past couple of months. It caught my eye, along with the number of people who seem to be making a living from blogging, which is intriguing to me. I’m not sure how I feel about asking for monetary support, even though saying “buy my book” is more or less the same thing, albeit you get something in return with that transaction.

I’m of two minds about this. On the one hand, it’s not easy to make a living as a writer (or to make any kind of money at all). Writing is hard, and in the era of self-publishing, the market is crowded with everything from utter rubbish to absolute gems, with no way to sort through the dross. E-books are generally cheaper than “real” books, so a high price means just that many more cheaper books to take away the earning potential of your book. The phrase “starving writer” is probably just as true now—if not more so—than it ever has been. And writers need to eat. Just because we’re artists doesn’t mean we get to ignore the mundane in favor of the magic.

On the other hand, well…seriously? Asking people to give you money and get nothing in return? It seems like asking for a handout, and with the number of people undeservedly on government support (the ones who are totally capable of working but who are LAZY!), do we really need to encourage people to ask for handouts? We’re already fostering an attitude of entitlement. If people need help, we should give it to them. But if they’re merely asking for help in the interest of not working…I’m not a supporter of that. (and I’m not saying writing isn’t working, because it definitely is.)

What are your thoughts on this? Give, don’t give, do away with the “donate” button entirely?

 

 

The Muse is Awake

I haven’t talked about writing in a while. I haven’t written in something like 15 months. To be honest, I’ve barely managed to do anything besides work the day job, do school stuff, and try to rest and recuperate from both those things. Writing…has more than fallen by the wayside. It’s dropped completely off the radar.

I had started to wonder if the Muse inhabited that part of my brain that was damaged by my stroke. I’m happy to report that it doesn’t! Yesterday, I was at work, and walked by my boss’s office. He had Enya playing, and I felt the Muse sit up, take a deep breath, and stretch. It was like she’d been resting for a long time. (Apparently, she moonlights as Rip Van Winkle.) Now she’s awake, and ready to play. And all it took was some Enya to shake her up and get her moving again (I’ve written to Enya a lot in the past.)

Now I can feel her in there, tinkering with the edges of The Fall, teasing it with her tiny, ever-moving hands as she searches out the bits that no longer fit, so she can rip them to shreds and build something new and shiny. She likes shiny, and at this point, The Fall is pretty much new and pristine, so it counts. Plus, she knows we have a lot of work to do to get it into shape for our new vision of it. It’s no longer going to be the same old dystopian zombie tale. It will still have zombies and be dystopian. But now it will be more.

I’m glad the Muse is back. I’ve missed her.

dark-fairy-fairies-12296485-500-461

City of Heavenly Fire….and what’s been going on

I moved at the end of April, and have not yet successfully managed to find an Internet company that can get us service in the house that is just outside the city limits and in a slight valley (making it impossible to get a signal from the towers).  I need recommendations for satellite internet company!

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City of Heavenly Fire, by Cassandra Clare (Margaret K. McElderry Books)
City of Heavenly Fire, by Cassandra Clare (Margaret K. McElderry Books)

City of Heavenly Fire, the sixth and final installment in the Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare, released in May. Cassandra Clare has also written The Bane Chronicles and The Infernal Devices, series also set in the Shadowhunter world. The first book of The Mortal Instruments series, City of Bones, was made into a movie, as well.

I am coming.

Half threat, half promise, the words Sebastian left behind haunt Clary as they will soon haunt all Shadowhunters. Along with Jace, she and her friends are the only ones who realize just how dangerous her brother, Sebastian is, just how ruthless he can be. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants: power and Clary at his side. Even when the first Institute falls, the Shadowhunters still refuse to listen to Jace and Clary, despite the horrors Sebastian visits on them, using the Mortal Cup.

Nothing in this world can stop Sebastian, so Clary and her friends must leave this world behind as they search desperately to find a way to destroy Sebastian, who is threatening the uneasy peace between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. With their world crumbling around them, and those they love falling to darkness, Clary and Jace must find a way to put a stop to Sebastian for good, before he destroys everything the Shadowhunters have fought for over the centuries.

City of Heavenly Fire brings all the promises from the first five books of the Mortal Instruments series to life in this riveting final chapter. The fear and despair of the characters breathes from every page, laced with adrenaline and whispers of hope. Love is lost and friends fall as the Shadowhunters battle the evil and darkness of Sebastian and his allies.

The action is non-stop in this final installment to the best-selling Mortal Instruments series. The characters readers have come to love are all here, although not all of them will make it out alive, as the Shadowhunters battle Sebastian in the final face-off.

Getting Over Feeling Guilty

So, I know I said I was going to do some writing-related work every week and post about it here to keep myself accountable, but…that just didn’t happen last week.  At first I felt guilty.  I had an entire week, why couldn’t I carve out some time for writing?  Then I thought about it:  I was busy last week.  Really busy.  It wasn’t like I did nothing last week.  I just didn’t have enough hours to fit in everything I had to do, much less the things I wanted to do.  I have valid reasons for not getting to the writing.  I may not be happy about the situation, but it is what it is, and I’m in the process of making my life more conducive to doing things I want to do, instead of merely what I have to do.

My (excellent list) of (valid) reasons I didn’t have time for writing last week:

1)  I worked an extra day at the day job.

2)  School. (And registering for summer classes, which I wasn’t planning on taking.)

3)  I started packing my apartment in preparation for moving in 3 weeks or so.  (Blech.  I HATE packing.)

4)  Pre-vacation planning and packing (I leave on Thursday.)

5)  Extra schoolwork so I don’t have to do it while on vacation.

To me, those are excellent reasons (not excuses).

I did just sign up for a webinar Thursday with Holly Lisle and Booknook.biz about e-book formatting, so I’m counting that as writing-related for next week…

Also, I took a few hours out to go see Divergent.  I haven’t read the book, but I loved the movie.  I thought it was really well-done.  Also, since my WIP (which currently stands for Work I’ve Paused) is dystopian, the movie got me thinking about the genre, which seems to have gotten big with the success of things like The Hunger Games and The Walking Dead (yes, I’m counting that here).

So, I’d really like to know:  why do you like (or dislike) dystopian stories?

It’s Not Really Procrastinating if You’re Exhausted

 

busy

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there hasn’t been much going on around here except for the occasional book review.  That is mostly true of my life of late, too.  It’s been 9 1/2 months since my stroke, and I’m still not 100% yet.  To be fair, I may never be 100% of what I was, so I just need to adjust to my new normal.  That has been…harder…than I thought it would be.

Yes, I still work three days a week (3 days that are 11-16 hours each), on my feet in a fast-paced environment.  I love my patients, but it’s overwhelming at times.  Plus, I go to school full-time (online at Regent University now).  I’m taking some great classes, but it is a teensy bit exhausting at times.  I’m trying to start working out again (right now, “working out” means some light walking and strength training).  Writing hasn’t sorted itself completely yet.

I’m trying to blog on something like a consistent schedule (which, let’s face it, right now, that’s once a week, if I’m lucky).  I’m also trying to work my way through Holly Lisle’s Create a World Clinic to get the writing juices flowing again.  But it’s hard.  So hard, sometimes.  Some days, dragging myself out of bed is a monumental task.  On my days off, I should be able to sleep in a bit (where “sleep in” means staying asleep until after 6 a.m.).  But no.  This morning, I was awake before 4 .m.  Seriously?

But yes, that’s my goal:  one blog here a week, and I intend to have some sort of writing progress to report weekly.  And, if anyone has any sort of suggestions at all….I’m all ears.

Overcoming Inertia…or Fear

I want to start writing again.  I haven’t written anything–apart from a handful of blog posts–in six months.  I want to.  I’m just…scared.  My world is not what it was six months ago.  I’ve changed a lot.  I almost died.  Rediscovered my purpose.  Decided to link my dreams with that purpose.  I’m actively taking steps to make both dream and purpose a reality.  I’m changing schools and majors (two of those steps).  And my writing is another one of those steps.

But starting to write again is scary.  Coming up with an idea worthy of all my changes is intimidating.   And the thought of failing is terrifying.  Which leaves me mentally–and creatively–paralyzed.

Any ideas to get back on the horse again, so to speak?

 

 

What a Stroke Looks Like from the Inside–Part Two

So, I meant to finish up my story a while back, but as it turns out, one of the side effects of a stroke is being tired—like really tired—all the time.  When you add in work, school, and doctors’ appointments, that means I’m drained the majority of the time.  If you missed the first part of my story, you can find it here.  But here goes….

I woke up the next day, a little before noon.  I was intubated and my hands were restrained (I had my appendix taken out when I was 11, and I might have pulled out the tube when I woke up.  Having the tube put back in while awake = not fun.) Anyway.  I knew right away I was in the hospital, but I had no idea why.  My parents and Baby Brother were there.  Obviously, I couldn’t talk, but I remember them talking to me, telling me they’d take the tube out soon.  My mom also told me “Bubba is here.  And he brought your nephew.”  I was coherent enough to think:  “Why is he here? He lives 600 miles away!”

The next thing I remember is my mom bringing in one of my friends from work, who was crying her eyes out.  Then, later, some of my friends from my old job.  I had my contacts out by this time, but I recognized their voices.  Turns out, they’d been at the hospital with my family most of the time.  The Saint was in NYC, but one of them called her so I could “talk” to her, reassure her.  Then the Cynic and another close friend of ours visited.  My family, of course.  They were almost always by my side.  And later that evening, the Diva and “our” husband, who were some of the first people my mom called, came in.

The next day, I was a little more with it.  Some women from therapy came to get me up, and were shocked I could walk by myself.  I got to meet my nephew—he was 4 months old then—and he is SO cute!  Most of my hospital stay is a blur.  I slept a lot.  I couldn’t use my right hand much at all.  I started learning how to eat left-handed.  I had a lot of visitors and phone calls (many of my patients called to check on me).  I got out of the hospital 5 days later and went home with my mom.

I cannot image how difficult the day of my stroke was for my friends and family.  At the hospital, they gave me tPA (the stroke drug), but it didn’t seem to help.  Actually, my symptoms worsened.  Late that night, the doctor told the nurses that something else was going on, and he was going in.  He told my parents there was a 98% fatality rate for my condition.  If I lived, they didn’t know if I would wake up.  If I somehow woke up, they didn’t know what condition I’d be in.  I woke up about 12 hours later, able to see, talk, and move.  I knew who I was and who everyone around me was.

As it turns out, I had two clots in my brain and a tear in my left vertebral artery.  I now have four stents there, and I’ll be on aspirin the rest of my life. I have reduced sensation on the right side of my body, but it’s improving.  I have tingling pretty much all the time on that side.  2 ½ weeks after my stroke, I was back in the E.R. (at the orders of my neurologist’s nurse) because the tingling had gotten worse and I’d had a mild headache for two days.  They think the right artery had dissected as well, but it was so small they could only treat it with medications for a few days.  I stayed in the hospital 4 days that time.  Since then, I’ve had an angiogram to check on my stents (they looked great).  I started working again (14 hour shifts are tough under the best circumstances.  Now…I don’t even have the words.)  The school semester started.  (I did switch to online classes this semester—French, German, and Spanish 2.)  I went back to the E.R. a week ago with some brief vision changes (doctor’s orders), but everything is fine.  Stents are great, no signs of stroke.  I’ve had blood work and other tests done, and none of the doctors know what caused my stroke.  My neurologist calls me a miracle.

Let me say this:  no matter what your personal beliefs are, I know that the only reason I survived is because of God.  He was there with me–giving me that feeling of peace—through it all.  There is a reason I had the stroke, despite being “too young” and there not being a cause.  God has a plan for this, a plan to prosper.  There is no doubt in my mind.

What a Stroke Looks Like from the Inside–Part One

You never know how quickly your life can change.  Good or bad, everything really can change in an instant.  Sometimes it’s a big, dramatic moment, sometimes it passes you by without even a whisper of acknowledgement or a hint of warning.  Like T.S. Eliot said, my old world ended with a whimper, not a bang.

June 1st was a normal Saturday.  I went for a walk, cleaned my apartment, did laundry.  I was tired from working 14 hours the day before, so I took a nap.  When I woke up an hour later, I was having a seizure.  I’d never had a seizure before, but I had seen people have them, so I knew what it was.  But the sensation of being unable to control my own body was something I’ll never forget.  Even worse was the fact that my eyes would not work together.

I remember thinking to myself “What am I going to do if they can’t fix my eyes?  I won’t be able to work or go to school or anything?”  I was still having a seizure, but I was having a rational conversation with myself.  And I knew—because of my eyes—that I’d had a stroke.  I was convinced that I was going to die.  But I wasn’t afraid.  I was filled with peace.

At the end of the seizure, I fell out of bed, somehow missing the sharp corner of my nightstand.  I ended up in the corner, between that table and the closet, and I was throwing up.  When I finally managed to stop throwing up long enough, I managed to yell for my friend who was crashed on my couch.  When she came into the room, I remember telling her, very calmly, “Don’t panic, but I think I’ve had a stroke.  I need you to call an ambulance.”  I was so relieved that I’d managed to get her attention, and that she’d called 911, that I just lay there, still throwing up, as she called my family.

When the paramedics got there, they tried to set me up on the edge of my bed, but I couldn’t sit up, and just fell over backwards.  They kept asking me what I’d taken, and I remember being really frustrated, because they thought I’d taken drugs, and I knew I’d had a stroke.

I remember the paramedic putting an arterial line in before we left the apartment complex.  It seemed to take a long time to get to the hospital, even though it was only about five miles away.  I was barely unloaded and in the E.R. before my dad was there, at my side (Baby Brother can really drive when he needs to!).  I just looked at him and said “Pray!”  He grabbed my foot, as the nurses were still hooking me up, and prayed.  Then I was wheeled away for tests, still throwing up frequently.

My mom and Baby Brother were also there, and my mom says I kept getting irritated at the doctors trying to ask me questions, and kept saying “I’m just tired!”  I remember lots of people working on me, lots of tests, but only faintly.  I remember my Other Brother being there—one of Baby Brother’s closest friends—and Mama Bear—a friend from work, but then everything faded to black.