cautiously

I'm at the Beacon Theatre right now while Scars on 45 open for Tori Amos. Ah, nostalgia. '90s angsty rock!

I keep think about the elections last night. I am cautiously hopeful. I've been near tears off and on all day. Maybe we can really take back our country from the bigoted fuckwads in charge. 

I'm less stressed than I have been lately. Work's in a bit of a lull and I'm actually enjoying my freelance project. I'm also making a big effort to offload my stress before I get home, in case my stress is causing Isabel's stress. (Missed that story? Our two-year-old cat, Isabel, is stressed and therefore pissing in inappropriate places.)

Writing is still going slower than I want but at least it's happening. I've sussed out the climax to the eye-stabby novel, and I'm nearly to it in the draft. Progress!

Okay, kittens. I'm going to put the phone down and enjoy the show. Blood and kisses, all of you!

the rest of the year

I've come up with a plan for how to approach the rest of the year, in life and in writing. I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I approach my productivity, and I've reached the conclusion that it's time to try something different. So for the rest of the year, I will have two weekday evenings for writing and music, and two for housework and freelancing. One evening will just be for fun (Monday pool league!). On the weekends I can try to do all the things both days. I think this will help me feel better about things because I'll have longer stretches of time to spend on things instead of doing a tiny bit of everything every day. And I'll have a shorter to-do list most of the time.
For the writing, I'd like to knock out the rest of the eye-stabby first draft in the next ten days, max.  All I have left to draft is the climax and the end, so that is (hopefully!) doable. The second half of the month is for fixing Demon Child and for powering through the rest of the first draft of Janny. Then December is for revisions and finding beta readers, and for revisiting the ghost/witch novel to sort out revisions on that.
Basically, I'm trying to finish things. It's been several years since I really properly finished a writing project, and it's time to get my ass in gear with this stuff. Nobody can write my books but me. Nobody can submit my books but me. I need to get over the fear and DO IT.
Anybody want to do mutual cheerleading? Give me a shout! Doing NaNoWriMo? Hit me there as Thistlewicche. Tell me what your goals are for the rest of the year, kittens. I'd love to have some productivity company. And Happy belated Samhain!

a mark for every season

I've been thinking a lot about scars lately. We're all scarred; we all carry them from past trauma, physical or emotional. I'm a survivor of of emotional and sexual abuse. A high-school shooting occurred in my town while I was in college. My family moved states when I was thirteen (you try doing this as a thirteen-year-old girl who has just found her tribe). I have myriad physical scars that I could explain. 
Those are some of my scars. I know you have your own. Some like mine, some different. But present regardless of similarities or differences.

What I don't understand is how some people force their scars, their trauma, on other people. I am heartsick about Vegas. All those people's lives were changed or snuffed out in a heartbeat, and for what? Because some angry older white guy thought the world owed him something, or had wronged him? What kind of person thinks it's okay to take their unhappiness out on others like that?

I don't have good words for any of this. I am horrified and heartsick. I am in awe of those people who put their lives on the line to protect the other people around them. And I am worried—more than worried. Terrified. I am terrified that nothing will change, that America will continue to value money over lives, that acts of domestic terrorism like the shooting in Vegas won't be acknowledged for what they are.

And speaking of valuing money over lives, I am heartsick for Puerto Rico as well, not only for the hurricane damage they sustained, but for their ongoing trauma in the aftermath and for the horrific treatment they are receiving from the government. Who the hell cares about budgets when people's lives are on the line? We should have sent much more help, much faster than we did.  We should still send more help.

What can I do about all of this? I don't know right now. What I do know is that I won't take it quietly. That I will continue to call my reps and go to protests and donate money to help support survivors through their recoveries. That I will rise up however I can.

It's hard to resist long-term. You get tired. You burn out. But we can do this. We can make things better, I think, I hope. Even if it's only in small ways.

Take care of yourselves, kittens. Self-care is one of the most important things to think about these days. And go do something nice for someone today. Remind yourself, and them, through some small gesture, that there is still some good in the world.

remembrance

In the small, dim hours of early morning today, I dreamed about an old friend who took his own life a year and a half ago.

I was at a party, a crazy Goth/Victorian-inspired masquerade party that took up a warehouse and the surrounding grounds. I was there with my real-life partner-in-crime. But then two other women approached and started shouting at him about cheating on them. And then all of a sudden Sam was there. He took me by the hand and led me away from the argument, out of the party. We got in his car and drove and drove, for what felt like hours, talking and deciding what to do. We eventually stopped at a hotel for the night, at which point I realized I'd left my tote bag at the party. Sam assured me it would be there the next day when we returned for it. He got us a room. In the stairs he handed me a baggie of pills, four different kinds, and said, "Please don't let me be responsible for these." At some point I wandered out onto the giant patio in the middle of the night. There was a group of people out there who said they were vampires and started threatening me, and again, Sam just appeared and took me away from the uncomfortable scene.

And then I woke up.

Sam in the dream was always there for me, just like he and I were always there for each other in real life, when we were close. He would come over and cry on my shoulder when he had an abusive encounter with his ex. I would go to him when I was stressed, when I was uncomfortable with what was going on with whatever relationship I was in. We slept together when we were single and would go out to brunch the next morning, always simply good friends regardless of what had transpired the night before was just sleep or something more. We were important to each other.

At some point, we started depending on other people more and each other less. We grew apart, like people do. I hadn't spoken to him in several years before he decided he was finished being on this earthly plane. I blogged about finding out about his passing, in March of last year. But that dream this morning hit me like a punch in the gut. I woke up and remembered he was gone and I ached to talk to him one more time. In the dream, when he took my hand, his palm was calloused just like they were when he was here. It's rare for me to remember physical sensation in my dreams, but I remember that. And that physical detail recalled the hurt of him being gone just as much as him being there for me did.

I don't know what else to say about this. I don't think any of us ever truly reconcile ourselves to the idea that someone we love decided to take themselves out of this life. I miss him, and I love him as a good friend still, and I wish I could talk to him again.

stymied

(written 9/5 evening, posted 9/6 noon)
Hi, kittens. I've been trying all day to think of something clever or interesting or entertaining to talk about, but I'm stymied. I am sick at heart about the fire in the Columbia Gorge in Oregon. I am overwhelmed by life, by politics, by work. Hell, I'm overwhelmed by the amount of books I own but haven't read!

So. I'm declaring September a month of focusing on self-care. That involves less social media, and maybe less socializing. It involves more home cooking, and reading for pleasure. More tea! More sleep!

And yes. Lots of writing.

I'd love to hear from all of you. Tell me how you're holding up. Tell me your self-care rituals, the things that get you through the bad days.

That's all I have right now. It's time to read a book. Blood and kisses! Take care of yourselves!

fall is in the air

Hi, everybody. The day after tomorrow will be September already. This summer really flew by, and I have say, I'm ready for autumn. Give me crisp mornings with brilliant sunny afternoons; the sweet tang of woodsmoke curling through the air; zucchini bread and pumpkin pie for breakfast; red, yellow, orange leaves shivering in the breeze; drinking tea and watching rain fall outside.... I am really over this summer, obviously!

I've gotten stuck on the novelette. I know what needs to happen for the climax emotionally but not action-wise, so I'm spinning my wheels. Maybe I should switch back over to the eye-stabby novel for a couple days.

What are your creative goals for September? I'd love to hear about them! Mine are to finish the novelette and to make some really solid progress on the novel. Play my clarinet more.

I've got some vacation time left this year, so I'm contemplating a staycation. Sounds nice, right? I also want to go apple-picking in the next few weeks. 

On the activism front, I'm taking a class in emergency bystander first aid, and I've gone to a couple protests. How about you, kittens? What action are you taking?

That's it for me, I have to get to work. I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and making your voices heard in whatever way you do that.

Blood and kisses!

follow me down to the river

Just another summer day here in the center of the universe . . .
How's everyone doing? I can't believe it's mid August already. I've gotten a lot of writing done this summer, but not as much as I'd hoped, as always. Still, I broke 50k on the novel first draft, and I'm doing a heavy revision on the novelette right now (it'll be a novella after this go-round, ha!) and I've drafted a couple short stories. I've started pondering Janny and Syska again too; I'll get back to them this fall. And the ideas. Like ripe fruit ready for the plucking. I have so many ideas right now! Anybody need some?? I could set up an ideas-for-sale booth in the goblin market, and make a killing.
I've read a few books since last time I was here. In no particular order:
13) Phantom Pains by Mishell Baker. The sequel to Borderline. I enjoyed this one, can't wait for book three!
14) The Girl from Everywhere by Heidi Heilig. Holy wow I loved this YA time-travel adventure. It's so much more than that, though! Family, and time travel, and love, and sailing the open seas! I'm buying the sequel after work. Seriously, read this book, everyone!
15) Grim Tidings by Caitlin Kittredge. Fast and furious and grim and gallows humor. Everything I'd hoped for. I can't wait to read the sequel to this one!
16) The Refrigerator Monologues by Catherynne Valente. As always, Valente kills it in this. The voice and narrative styling are amazing, the stories are great. She's a writer's writer. Everything I've read by he has been stunning.
17) Snow White graphic novel by Phelan. This is a lovely retelling of Snow White in NYC as the Depression hits. The story works really well within that setting; I quite enjoyed this.
18) Gideon by Alex Gordon. Whoa. This is a creepy paranormal thriller. I was all in, the entire time I was reading. Definitely recommended. A third one on today's list for which I can't wait wait to read the sequel!
My struggle these last couple weeks has been feeling unseen. Does this happen to any of you? It doesn't matter what you say or do, it feels like people just don't see you? I've really fallen down that rabbit hole, and it's time to fix it. I'm working on the attitude. I'm dressing differently than usual. I might *gasp!* start wearing a little makeup sometimes. Anything to pull myself out of this bullshit beaten-down rut I've been in.
Let's be honest, sometimes it's hard to be happy. Especially given what's happening in America these days. So tell me, please, one thing that has made you happy in the last couple weeks. It could be anything from getting married to reading a good book to signing with an agent to meeting a cute puppy this morning. I want to hear it!
And now I have to get back to work. I'll come back soon.
Blood and kisses!