Writerly Stuff...

A few weeks ago I had the passing thought that maybe I should actually learn about the craft of writing a little bit more. 

Which is weird right? I mean I write all the time, it seems a little late to be worried about how to do it. 

But I had the thought that I should take it a little more seriously. Maybe even give getting published one more crack. 

Right at the moment that I thought about it someone I follow on Facebook who makes a living writing put out that they were going to do a series of writing workshops. One on fiction writing, one on memoirs, and one on getting published. Of course I thought well this is obviously a sign for me to take these classes. Then it ended up that the classes were going to be on a Sunday that we were already busy so nope, not for me. BUT then he decided to include replays with the purchase of a workshop so I could watch them whenever. Okay, so this is for me. Then when I looked at the price of them I thought, well, maybe not. Maybe I'll look at a different series. BUT then he did a one day "Pay what you want" deal. Which I thought, okay, I'm in. I have a price that I think a 6 hour continuing ed lecture should cost and I will pay that for these. 

So right now (as in RIGHT now) I'm listening to the playback. We are in the Q&A section for the fiction writing part and so I'm only half listening. For the most part people want to say "I've got a book about a sentient polyamorous Octopus who time travels and..." And I have no interest in your book idea and especially not that idea. 

So I'm half listening and checking back on the comments. And thought I should write since I've committed to writing a lot this month and year so instead of fully focusing on a writing workshop I'll do my own writing. 

I'm basically done with the memoir workshop and finishing the fiction one. I'll probably end up doing to publishing one tomorrow. I'm at the level of diminishing returns (clearly) and I think the one that I'm going to get the most new information about is that last one. 

Because it's been okay so far, but I've not picked up anything really new. I mean, find your voice, know what story you want to tell, don't write for anyone but yourself.

I already do that. 

I think I'm an intuitive writer. Like I don't know why or how I write the way I do, I just do. I didn't take creative writing specific classes. I've read a few books about writing but not many. I'm terrible at grammar (as you all know) and truly feel the rules are just barely guidelines. I couldn't tell you what tropes are tropes for the most part, or genre rules, or what have you. 

I just have ideas and scenes that show up in my head and I write them down. 

I have snippets of dialog that show up and I write them down. 

It's just the way it works for me. 

And, again, as you all know, I stopped worrying about being published because it's too much work and makes this fun thing I do a lot less fun. I write to keep my head clear. I really like when you all like what I've written. I also know that the more people who read what I write the more people won't like it, and I'm not sure I want that level of criticism in my life. 

But I'll listen to his publishing section tomorrow and maybe it will change my mind. 

Or it won't. 

But I'm counting it as a win that I thought about doing something like this, this thing popped up, I signed up for it, AND I remembered to do it. 

Even if it took me an extra week because I totally forgot last week. 

And even if so far it's been interesting but not incredibly helpful.

Or maybe that's the helpful part? Just another piece of reinforcement that what I'm doing, the way I'm doing it, that's the right way for me to do it. And nobody else's system, style, advice is actually going to work for me. 

Which is basically life right? 

You have to find your way, your own way. Nobody else's path is your path. 

So maybe that's the helpful part. Just reminding me of things I already know. 

And knowing that I am really not interested in a sentient polyamorous time travelling octopus. 

New Loves...

"So that's it? You don't want to fight for him?"

"No. No, I don't. Why in the world would I want to do that?"

"You have so much history. You have a life together."

"We do have history. And that's what we have now, old history. New wins. It's almost impossible to compete with new."

"No, that's not true, you have a deeper connection than that."

"Clearly that is not the case."

"Well, I mean sure, this is a problem, but you can't just step aside and let her have him."

"Why not?"

"Because. I mean, you're married. You have a house. You have kids. You have..."

"We will always share the kids, but they are grown so it's not like this is going to be a daily issue for them. Sure, they are going to be shocked, but they have their own lives. And the rest is now had. We will get divorced. It will all be very civilized. We will sell the house. I always wanted to live downtown anyway. I'll keep the dog, he has someone else to share his bed with."

"You are so calm about this. Aren't you even mad?"

"I'm furious. Aside from just the betrayal it's completely unfair. I turned him into the man she fell in love with. And now here we are. I did the work and she gets the benefits."

"So how are you so calm on the outside if you are furious?"

"Because it does no good to be stomping around throwing a fit over it. New wins. They've never even had an argument yet. They've only shown each other their very best behavior. Oh maybe a little pretend fight here and there, some pretty pouting when he would leave her to come home to me. But that's just adorable right? She's just loves him so much she wants him all to herself. How could he not respond to that? I mean when he did make it home to me there was a good chance that he walked into a house where I was dealing with the dog needing to go to vet, the roof springing a leak, a kid in crisis, any myriad of things that go wrong in life. I sure as hell wasn't always in my best lingerie and with my hair done just so. It might not have even been brushed yet when the dog was having her issues. It's easy to focus on those things and say this life was the problem. The new life, the new love? That's easy."

"But it won't stay that way."

"Of course not. But by the time he figures that out I will be long gone. I mean, I'm already packing now."

"It's just awful though."

"It is. It's awful and it's unfair. You know, she will never even have to meet his parents. She'll never have to deal with his bratty little sister and her constant drama. She'll get the lovely woman that she grew up to be. She'll get the rose colored memories of his folks without the actual reality of them. It's just unfair."

"Oh I remember his father. What a..."

"Yes, yes he was. But she'll get the good stories. About baseball games and BBQs. It will be years before she ever hears about the drinking and the philandering. Because, I mean, he wouldn't really want to point out that his father was serial cheater at this point in time, would he?"

"No, I would guess not. So do you think you will date again? I mean, I know it seems too soon right now, but..."

"No. No way. I spent years creating a masterpiece and someone came along and put it in a new frame and now gets to pretend she did that. There is no way I'm getting out my paints and starting again. I'll be fine with the dog. I mean honestly, I'm looking forward to the quiet. To eating when I want to eat. To reading without interruption. To not wondering where he is and why he's late. Let her have him. In a few years she'll wonder why she wanted him in the first place."

"Of course by then he'll be off looking for a newer new."

"Exactly. New always wins. But the trick is, it doesn't stay new for long."

Funny Story...

Thinking of what to write today. I had an idea for a subject but nothing really clear, it was about 2020 so out of curiosity I went back to see if I wrote anything on May 6th, 2020. Then after I read the blog closest to that date I did the same for 2021, 2022 and 2023. It's interesting to me to see what was important enough in my head to commit to a blog.

Then I decided to go back to the before times. I looked at 2019 and then had to laugh. And shake my head. 

It was the first installment of a story I did. It ended up being a 20 part story. I mean! TWENTY parts! And it took over 3 months to get them all done. That's not my usual. But that wasn't the funny part. The funny part is that the other day I was watching a news story and I told Brent that it reminded me of book I read years ago and then couldn't remember the title or the author. Just the general story.

Oh. I wrote it. It was a short story/novella that I wrote. And forgot that I wrote. Because me...

I swear when I get really old I'll just sit down with all of my fiction and read it like it's brand new. Maybe I'll become my own favorite author. 

Or maybe I'll think, I don't know what her issues are but they must have been hard to spell!

OH and in 2017 I wrote a tear jerker.

I hadn't remembered that one either but it made me cry which was also funny in its own way. But do trust if you cry reading it, I cried writing it. And apparently reading it again. 

So back to the original idea for today. I was thinking I'd write something about how the first part of the pandemic was actually sort of enjoyable. Those first two months, for me, were kind of nice. Brent was working from home, restaurants and groceries and such were all figuring out the whole delivery thing. The weather was nice so we were taking walks through the neighborhood and sitting on the front porch together at the end of the day. It was actually really nice. 

For us. 

For that moment. 

I know that it was never okay for a lot of people. There were people who had to keep going to work through it all and were worried about getting sick the whole time. There were people who didn't have an easy way to just keep going, business owners who couldn't figure out how to keep the lights on when they were being kept from their places of business. Part of what I wrote about in 2020 was that it was a choice the government was making not to subsidize businesses and workers. Which they finally did do the Pay Check Protection Loans and a few stimulus checks. There was actually one stimulus check working its way through negotiations at that time as well. It ended up being delayed even more because the president at the time wanted to send physical checks with his signature on them. So it got there too late. 

Too late for Ann to cash her check. We found it in a stack of mail she had opened but not dealt with.

See because that was the next part. If I was in 2020 I'd be a week or so out from the first death to touch us. Then two more would rapidly follow, one of those being Ann. There would be more. We lost friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances. 

Those first few months of the pandemic, when things were really uncertain and kind of scary in the moment were also really nice. Quiet can be good. It was a chance to recharge a little when we didn't even realize how much we would end up needing it. 

Once Ann died things went to surreal really quickly and kind of stayed there. Each new death we heard about was just a layer to add. Each new "this shouldn't be so hard to deal with" thing in settling Ann's estate was just a layer to add. We did find a "new normal" and sort of settled into that but it never got back to that peaceful, quiet, feeling that it was at the start. 

It's weird to think that a world wide pandemic started out so well but that's what I think about. 

When the world shut down it was really sort of pleasant at first. Until the death came too close. 

It sounds like a writing prompt for a weird piece of fiction that I wrote and then forgot I wrote it doesn't it? 

Whispers...

"Alexa, what is the weather outside?"

Alexa whispers, "It's 43 degrees right now." 

*sigh*

Brent tells me, "You whispered to her, or at least she thinks you did." (Alexa will whisper to you if you whisper back)

I woke up with laryngitis. I don't feel sick otherwise, just no voice. Sometimes it happens with allergies so I'm going with that. 

I used to get laryngitis at least a dozen times a year. Every single cold I got, every bad allergy attack. BOOM! No voice. Now it's fairly rare. Every few years. 

Why did it change? 

Because I quit smoking. 

I went from being sick almost all winter long. Rolling from one cold to the next. Voice rasped or completely gone. So not at all the picture of health, even though I was the picture of youthful health. 

But then I quit smoking and I went longer and longer stretches between even getting sick, let alone losing my voice. 

And it probably took two or three years to really accept that it was the smoking that did it. I quit smoking and I got healthier. In all sorts of ways. Who would have ever thought it?

Well except for the entire medical establishment and the studies that the tobacco companies did then tried to hide, and my parents and friends who didn't smoke and...

I was young. I was sure I knew better. And I really liked smoking. I smoked from the time I was 12 until I turned 20 and realized I should not be that winded doing aerobics. I've always said if they could find a safe way to smoke I'd do it again. I REALLY liked smoking.

I try to remember this about myself. That sometimes I am stubborn to my own detriment. (That sound you heard was Brent laughing at the word sometimes) I can get in my head that whatever I'm doing isn't really that bad, or that damaging to myself, because I've for sure got it under control. Or I for sure am smarter, faster and stronger than everyone else who has suffered damage from whatever it is. 

I think we all do that. It's the times we throw out our backs trying to move the couch by ourselves and people say, "Why would you even do that alone?" And we have to admit we would say the same if it was them throwing out their back. I mean, clearly, it took two big guys to deliver that couch why did you think you could lift it on your own? Ridiculous...never mind that I have for sure rearranged all the furniture in my house by myself before, I'm the exception not the rule!

No, no, I am not. 

We are all subject to the laws of gravity and age. We can handle it in different ways, but we are subject to them. It's why I lift weights and do cardio. Age and gravity are coming for me (have come?), I want to make sure I'm strong enough to continue to face them. I want to make sure my balance is good so I don't fall and break a hip. I want to live to be 100, after all, so I need to listen to the experts when they say, Pick up heavy things and put them down again. Make sure you can balance on one leg. Make sure you can sit on the floor and get back up unassisted. Keep your heart and lungs as healthy and strong as you can. 

And stop smoking. 

It's really bad for you. And me. All of us. Really. Trust me, even if I'm whispering it to you instead of shouting.  

  

Maybe Too Many...

To catch up to last year's writing pace I need to write 27 more blogs this month. Which means I need to write almost every day for the rest of the month. And this shouldn't matter because I have already set my goal to be the original goal from last year, not the amount I actually did. But...

Once I started looking at goals and numbers I just took off!

Moderation is good. I know that. I preach that. I BELIEVE that. But my brain doesn't always believe it. Or at least doesn't always follow the path I've laid out for it.

It's interesting to me that at 55 years old I'm starting to understand things about my brain and the way it works that I just haven't before. I mean, I sort of have. Because I've designed systems and ways of working that work for me, but I didn't really understand why. I've compensated without realizing I'm compensating. 

And I've framed things in ways that I prefer. Like I always make the joke that I'm not flighty, I'm multi focused. But these kids today and their Tik Tok learning videos have made me wonder if it's really ADHD, not just busy brain. Which, I mean...isn't that what ADHD is? 

Though I am going to read a book that uses VAST instead of ADHD because it's not a lack of attention (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) it's actually too much attention. VAST is Variable Attention Stimulus Trait. Which actually fits me really well. 

One because that's my issue. I start one thing then see something else that I need to do then see something else and at the end of the day I've got 43 started and abandoned projects. Or at 55 years old, 323 different career starts. 

Second because I'm not hyperactive. I'm multi focused for sure, and I'm a fast thinker, and sometimes that can seem to mimic hyperactive, but I'm also a couch sweet potato. I don't have to constantly be moving. I'm a fidgeter, but not a run arounder. 

Third, because I can get hyper focused on a project as well. Locked in to the point where I forget to eat. And you all know how much I love to eat.

Lastly, because it's not a disorder. It's just a different way of thinking. 

I even used my way of thinking for the title of this blog. My friend Susan and I had so many conversations where we interjected, This is totally random but... BUT...it never really was totally random. She and I both could walk you through the 20 steps between what we were originally talking about and this seemingly out of the blue line of conversation. It wasn't random, it was just done so fast it would have been impossible for anyone else outside of our brains to keep up. Though we did often share the path with each other because it's interesting to see the connections. 

I talked the other day about starting to come to this realization and the funny moment that should have let me know a long time ago. When Katie was in elementary school we moved to Colorado Springs and they were just adamant about getting her a diagnosis for her twitching and fidgeting and some social miscues. They really wanted it to be some form of ADHD or autism or Asperger's (which was the darling diagnosis at the time and has since completely been rebuked). The main way they set you on the path for an ADHD diagnosis was a parent filled out questionnaire. Does your child do X, Y, or Z? And I was completely disgusted by it, they were just trying to get everyone diagnosed! I mean I did most of those things and I didn't have ADHD so clearly...

Oh. 

Okay. 

I still wouldn't have gotten her the diagnosis or the medication. She didn't need medicated. Some kids thrived with it, one of my nephews really needed his meds to be able to function in school, I think the hyperactivity part was stronger in him and the meds calmed his brain storm enough to actually be able to focus on where he was. They can make a huge difference. Katie didn't need them. She didn't want the ones they offered for her Tourette's Syndrome. (Yes, we let her make the choice, we might not have had she been a different child but we felt she was capable of making a decision like that, now I think maybe she made the decision because I'm not a fan of meds, but I still think it was the right choice for her, she has never been held back by her brain, it's launched her faster and further in fact) But I did teach her some of my tricks. Again, not tripping to the fact that I needed tricks. 

So, yeah, it's been interesting to have a light bulb moment of well maybe it's been VAST all along...

And then because I'm me following that up with, yes, that's interesting but also...eh. I just am me. 

I need to have the things I'm working on in my sight or I will forget they exist. This one drives Brent a little crazy as he is a put it away guy. We've compromised over the years to I have a pile that is neat and tidy, but it's my pile and it does not go away. And we have our own sides in the bathroom. My side has my things on the counter, his does not. 

I know it will take me a few swipes at a project to complete it. Or sometimes even to start it. I tend to overthink things, even small things, because I can think of a hundred different ways it could go. A lot of time I just tell Brent I want to do something and he starts it right away and that lifts the block. 

I know that I can and will completely forget about things that are super important. Not just to me but to other people. And I understand that this makes people think that I don't actually find those things to be important, but I do. They just don't always stick. For instance, right now I just saw a notice about a writing course I signed up to do. I HAVE to get it done before the link disappears next week, was planning on doing it last week, but totally forgot. I'll put it on my calendar for next week, written down, and digital, and hopefully I'll get it done then. 

There are a lot of other things I do that I'm realizing fall into these adjustments I've made. Like the goals.

Goals are a focusing means for me. If I have a target I'm striving for I'm less likely to get stuck in the What next? cycle. The endless lists with no checks. If I have a goal, if I'm striving for a gold star, that part of my brain that gets distracted focuses on the shiny object ahead and off I go. 

It works. 

And after 55 years I'm finally starting to realize why. 

So how many goals are too many? 

Well for sure it's not writing 27 (now 26) more blogs in May. That's a perfect goal. 

 

Dedication...

She was going over her notes one more time. She probably didn't need to, but she was always very thorough and careful. You never knew what you'd miss if you got sloppy. When she was in school her instructors always commented on how perfect her chart notes were. Clear, concise and legible. Which wasn't the case for a lot of them. The jokes about doctor's handwriting being bad weren't always jokes, and some of her classmates seemed to think that it was a mandate. 

She had always been this way. Precise. Careful. She felt it was a sign of respect. Show the care that you wished others would show to you.

Thinking about school her brow furrowed as she remembered one particular lab partner. They had been assigned a cadaver to work on. A study body they called it. They would be dissecting their cadaver all year. Peeling back layers of skin to expose the fatty tissue then the muscle structures and finally the organs. Each cut needed to be precise, not too deep or you would ruin your next section, not too shallow or you would have to recut and could end up with jagged edges that, if you were in an operating room, would not sew together neatly and leave your patient with a nasty scar.

As they uncovered their body for the first time her lab partner had laughed. Her eyes snapped up from the body they were to be working on to her partner's face. "He wasn't very fit was he?" Her lab partner had said poking the abdomen of their study body. She hadn't said anything. Just continued to look at him until he settled down and took their work seriously. 

Later she was called into their instructor's office. She had apparently come across as unpleasant and they needed to discuss what made a good lab partner. She suggested that her partner was the one who should be in the office. She hadn't appreciated the disrespect he had shown. That the cadaver might now be their study body, but it had been a man. A man who thought their education was important enough that he donated his body to their studies. That was worthy of respect, not mockery. If they were going to learn to be good physicians they needed to learn to treat every patient with respect. And this was practice for that as well. In her opinion.

Then she had stared at her instructor with the same expression she had used on her lab partner. 

That night over dinner her instructor would tell her husband that she had felt a chill when her student had looked at her like that. But that she had been right, disrespecting the body on their table was never okay. Even if the patient wasn't really there to hear it. 

She got a new lab partner.

Her work in cadaver lab was as pristine as her chart notes. Her cuts were clean and exact, they never had to redo a section or face the dreaded replacement organ needed due to a mangled attempt at a microsection. She was also a good lab partner, teaching him how to hold his scalpel at the correct angle, what pressure to apply, how to visualize not only what they were cutting but what was underneath. By the time the semester was over they were both on the fast track for the prime surgical rotation. He had asked her once how she was already so good at this, she hadn't lied to him. She had told him that she couldn't explain why, she just was. 

He had introduced her to the great love of her life. She had seen him around campus a few times. Quite a few times. Possibly she had even made sure she was going to be places where she would see him. He was handsome, but that wasn't all that drew her to him. It was something else. Something intangible. The way he moved, the way he commanded attention but without seeming to do anything to do so. He wasn't loud. He wasn't showy. He just was. And people turned toward him like he was the sun. She wanted to know what that was. That piece. That spark. But she would never have dared approach him. Not at school. Her studies were too important to her. 

One day she and her lab partner were having lunch between classes and he walked into the cafeteria. She noticed him, of course she noticed him, but looked away quickly. Her partner had smiled at her and then waved and shouted, "Z! Hey, Z!" She hadn't realized that she had been obvious in her attentions. She was embarassed that he had noticed, that she had given him something to notice. But it was too late. Z was headed their way. Z. No name attached, just the letter. She fleetingly thought about the alpha and omega. He might not have been the first but could he be the last?

It had been an instant connection. She was drawn in to his orbit just like everyone else seemed to be. But he also was drawn into hers. That was the difference. Something about her intrigued him. Made him want to seek her out in the lunchroom, in the library, waiting outside the lab. Eventually they became inseparable. 

She hadn't expected that. She hadn't really understood how to process that. How she would process that. 

Z was her type. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, fit but not muscle bound. Popular without being surrounded at all times. He had that it factor that she was drawn to. Over and over again. She had never expected to find it in someone on campus. And she absolutely hadn't expected to form this relationship. 

But she had. She loved him. He was different. She was different when she was with him. 

Mostly different.

But she was still herself too. The one she had always been. 

She sighed, time to stop reminiscing and get back to her notes. 

One more review and then she gowned up and entered the room where he was waiting. 

"Hello, Z, today we're going to try something different."

The man strapped to the bed turned his blue eyes toward her, "I'm not Z. I've told you over and over that's not my name. I don't know what you want, but it's not me. Please..."

"Shhh...it's okay, Z. It's normal to feel a little nervous before a session."

He started to cry. He knew at any moment he would be put under anesthesia only to wake up with another series of incisions. He wasn't sure how many more of her sessions she would do but he knew he wasn't going to survive. Eventually he would have nothing left to give her. 

She had been practicing her trade since she was 15. She could keep them alive, or kill them quickly. She had skinned them, dissected them, reassembled them after splitting every joint from their core. She was precise and neat and calm. 

She had a type. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, fit but not muscle bound. They all had to have that spark. The one she had spent a lifetime trying to find. What was it about them that called to her. She was going to find it. It was her life's work. 

But she was careful. Precise. She had a type, and her husband happened to match that type. If she had to find a thousand men who looked like Z to find that spark she would. Anything to keep her from looking inside her beloved for it. She snapped her gloves and said, "Shall we begin, Z?" If she had to make them Z she would. 

She would do anything to keep him alive. 

May Day!

And here we are. One month down in the back to the goals but don't make it weird world I'm living. 

I have to admit my head felt better all last month. I didn't really do anything different than what I had been doing (aside from the poetry bits) but it still felt like I wasn't as aimless. I just need to have that direction. 

I'm chewing on a writing prompt right now so this is probably going to be short. I kind of have the story direction worked out in my head for the prompt but not enough yet to write so that's why you are getting this rambly piece instead of that fiction spot. Though, I'm going to be honest, it probably won't be for everyone. Just warning you.

May's changes we talked about. Started No Weigh May! I tapered off last week, didn't weigh in most days, would have just stopped altogether but I needed to weigh the cats at the end of April and the best way to do that is by holding them while I am on the scale so I wasn't really weighing myself, I was weighing them, but I still had to weigh myself to do the math. They both weigh 10.6 pounds, by the way. They are still keeping equal in weight, which I think is the weirdest thing. Tig is MUCH taller than Tux and if he filled out he'd probably be another 2 pounds heavier. And Tux has the potential to go full chunk, he just never has. 

I wrote what I wanted to write and because I did the poetry pieces actually caught up on the fiction I was behind. Now if I average one a week I'll be on track for the repeated goals from last year. And because I'm wrapping up that long piece I've been sending to Dana I will probably start posting that here so that will take care of 20-23 weeks depending on how many more it takes me to actually tie that bow. I'm thinking it will make a lovely Sunday morning series. 

Reading was slow. I think I finished 4 books, maybe 5. But one was nonfiction so that's on track too. Just slow reads last month. Enjoyable, for the most part, just slow. The two I'm working on right now are the same. Not bad, though the nonfiction one is a great idea it's not great writing, but just slow. Hopefully I'll get to some juicy quicker reads soon. 

I did Picture of the Day and that was enjoyable. Have to decide here in the next few hours if I'm keeping it this month or not. Probably will, but haven't for sure decided. 

Picked up Duolingo again after a long time off. Brent has been using it to learn Spanish, German, and Dutch (though I convinced him that German and Dutch at the same time was a little crazy so he's down to just Spanish and German) I figured it would be a good time to pick back up Spanish since I could practice with him. I'll probably never be conversant in it, but being able to do more than swear and ask where the bathroom is would be a good idea. (I actually understand quite a bit of it since it was always around when I was growing up, I can read it better than understand it spoken and I can understand it spoken better than I can speak it)

Also picked back up the Calm meditation app. Trying for just 10-15 minutes a day. Not a lot, but a good transition from working out to the rest of the day. 

AND I finally got that magnesium sleep supplement yesterday so this month I'll be trying it out. Not really thinking it will do much for my sleep but have high hopes now for it helping my twitchy legs. 

I guess I did do a few things differently than I had been. But since I started doing the goal thing again it didn't feel like it. It just felt smooth. So that's good. 

And this didn't end up being terribly short afterall. 

But terribly rambly for sure.