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Thursday, February 27, 2014

Time Travel

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Okay, I haven't really traveled through time (except forward, obviously), but it's felt a bit like I have. I had a book signing last weekend. It was awesome, but as many of you know it's a book about a past experience, and I discussed it at length. Truth be told, it was pretty cool and the folks who showed up were pretty great. Interestingly enough, The book is doing really well. Well enough that I can look into my future with hope, and have to do some financial maneuvering in order to assimilate my shiny new income without wreaking any havoc on my overall financial...stuff (for lack of a better word).

Of course the past is gone, and the future is yet to come, which means it is still the present which can be the most troublesome. So I have one leg in the past, one in the future and one in the present. I'm no math whiz, but I'm pretty darned good at biology and I know three legs are just not normal. No wonder I'm tired. It is what it is, and all the great stuff that's going on keeps me buoyed and optimistic most days. I'm uber grateful for that, and for the surprising (and kind of wonderful) amount of support I have been getting. Some days, the gratitude is overwhelming in an awesome way that is entirely new to me.

Having said that, I have been dealing with something unbelievably frustrating and dehumanizing the last few weeks. I won't go into it because it's all solved now and the "what" is less relevant than the effect it had on me. I've felt like I was in a nightmare where I was screaming for help but nobody could hear me. For weeks. I'm happy for the insight the situation provided to me: it gave me some clarity around where I would someday like to put some of my energy in the interest of helping to make the world a better place. Nobody should have to deal with what I've gone through the last few  weeks. And make no mistake; I am an assertive person who has no trouble at all advocating for myself or persisting until a problem is solved (if that weren't the case, the problem STILL wouldn't be dealt with). I am actually tenacious as hell. Not everybody is, and some people could sorely benefit from somebody advocating for them. There needs to be something in place for that purpose. Something to think about.

I'm grateful it's over and grateful for the insight provided, but it has still left me feeling, oh, I don't know. I guess the best way to put it is injured on a psychic and psychological level. I'm exhausted and it feels a bit like there's still a hole in my soul. How very dramatic, lol, but I know some of you will know what I mean. Essentially, I've had the psychological sh** kicked out of me, and it left a mark. I had a boss many years ago that created that sort of feeling, like a psychic vampire who made me face every workday with a dread so intense it caused physical symptoms. Yeah, like that.

Anyhoo, the point is to heal, I suppose. It would be much easier if the winter would relent and I could spend more quality time outside. I'm kind of an "outdoor kitty" and the long confinement of winter can really make me feel a lot more vulnerable to the shenanigans of the way of the world. My natural springiness is a bit compromised, and that means I'm internalizing more. Scary thought! It's getting better though. I have work, and walking a little close to the dark side certainly helps that, lol. I also have prayer, chocolate and Rescue Remedy, a fairly infallible combination :-)

To those of you who have ever felt like I have these last few weeks, who have ever felt like nobody could hear them screaming for help, don't resign yourself to taking it. Never do that. You're worth fighting for, so do it! Remember, if people treat you like crap, it isn't because you ARE crap, it's because they don't know how to treat people. Feel bad for them, and hope that they learn what they need to so they can become decent folks.

On that overly dramatic and emotional note (I really resent it when I feel compelled to emote. I'm an Aquarius, dammit!) I will leave you with a bit of shameless self-promotion in the form of a shiny new updated book trailer :-)

Monday, February 17, 2014

The Why of it

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I get a little crazy when I'm writing.  Okay, I'm not sure that crazy is the right word, but oddly enough I can't come up with a better one. Some writer I am :-) I suppose "lost", "focused", "down the rabbit hole" would all be apt descriptions. I need not be working on some epic masterpiece (and to date have never attempted such a lofty pursuit), but it doesn't matter. I certainly go somewhere.

I'm writing another book, which looks to be the first in a three-book series. It's funny how these things seem to happen: I start out with a very clear picture of where I want it to go, and then it sort of takes on a life of its own. I wonder where it all comes from, this "other" life. I'm sure much of it lurks in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind just waiting for the opportunity to be brought to light. A scary thought on many levels. Even scarier, I write horror. One can't write what one can't imagine. But even on those rare days free of distractions and shiny things, the days when things flow most easily, writing is consistent work. I've been asked more than once why I do it, especially considering the financial uncertainty and the time commitment. For that, I have no good answer, other than because I have to.

Okay, maybe that doesn't apply so much to books (I don't think), but that's not all I write. I write a lot, and have for years. I've had a journal since I was young, and then I wrote poetry. Most of it was dark and troubled like my thoughts at the time; life hasn't always been kind, but some of it was still beautiful. I wrote in school: creative writing, English, humanities. And then I discovered (eventually, after many years) the world of online media. I wrote on Myspace, about everything, all the time. And it was such a relief. Some days (and maybe you feel this too) my head is just so filled with thoughts and my soul so filled with...I don't know, that if I didn't have an outlet I might burst. Does that give me a right to make my outlet public? Or to have the audacity to believe that I can make a living at it?  That remains to be seen. But my inner magic 8-ball says "Signs point to yes" on most days. The good days, when everything feels possible, like I'm being pulled like a magnet forward to some as-yet-to-be-determined place where I belong.

But what the hell does that mean? I guess that part of the picture isn't so clear. I've been told that my name means clarity, so maybe that's forthcoming. In the interim, I'll just fumble around in the dark like I always have, bumping occasionally into something that might be good fodder for a horror novel. Write what you know. That's the rule, isn't it? A strange thought from someone with a generally positive and overly optimistic outlook, don't you think? Blame it on the moon; it's glow creates shadows. We all have our darkness.

Maybe 'crazy' is the right word after all?