It’s funny how the little things can get you more anxious than the big things.
I’m talking about short stories versus novels. With my novels, I usually take more time to fine-tune them and make sure they’re publishing-ready. Short stories, though? Most of the time I just type ’em out, give ’em a once-over for typos and flow, then throw ’em up on this blog.
This time, though, I’m going to be submitting to my publisher for a place in their next anthology. The theme (legends) fits with a new set of characters in Escape the Light, so it’s the perfect opportunity to get the world of Abnormal out to a wider audience.
I’ve never submitted a short story for publication before. I’ve never gone through the editing and beta reading process, never spent more than a couple of hours on a short piece. Not that I don’t care how my short stories turn out, but it’s a different feeling when it’s for publication. I feel more pressure to do it “right.”
Am I worried? A little. But I’m taking the necessary steps to make my story as perfect as it can be. I’ve got a few more beta readers’ feedback to go through, and I want to get someone to do a proper edit on it.
I think it’ll do well. I think it’ll get published. But I’m still nervous about it.
So I’ve gone two days now with the new med from my psychiatrist on board (which sounds like an alien species–Vraylar), and either I have had a relaxing, less-than-stressful couple of days or it works fast. I find myself not overly concerned with things that lately have been sending my stress levels skyrocketing. Long day at work? Okay. Surgeries running behind? Fine. Everything’s fine.
I wonder, though, if that’s necessarily a good thing. Yeah, I am feeling much less stressed, but will I end up like this:
I mean, I don’t want to be chilling when the building’s on fire, but I don’t want to be screaming when it’s not. Overall, though, the numbness is kind of refreshing. It’s like okay, I’m not in overdrive, I’m not burning the high-octane fuel, I’m surviving and even feeling a bit better. Okay, so I did have a blank stare several times yesterday that concerned a nurse friend of mine. Kinda was zoning a bit. But I was not overly stressed, and that was my key motivation for going to the doctor the other day, so there’s that.
It’s all about balance. I’ll be fine. Just have to adjust to the new med and keep on trucking.
On the advice of many, many people, I went to my psychiatrist yesterday (a month earlier than scheduled) and talked to him about all the stress I’m under. New medicine acquired, old medicine discarded, and now we play the waiting game.
Basically I have a month to adjust to the low dosage of the new med (which totally sounds like an alien species) before I get the full dose filled. There are a few bonuses to this new med:
No known weight gain side effects
Long half-life, so once I’m on the higher dose I’ll only have to take it Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays
Teeny little capsule, so not a huge gag issue
The med is soon-to-be-approved for bipolar depression, so that’ll help with that side of things, but I am dubious as to the anxiety/stress benefits of the med. If it’s supposed to help with depression, will it also help these other things? We shall see, I guess.
Speaking of bipolar disorder, I’m slated to appear on a podcast called Speak Your Mind, which is a mental health podcast. I know, I know, it’s not my usual book/writing podcast venue, but the host is excited to talk about Abnormal and my writing in addition to discussing mental health issues in my life and in society as a whole. More info to come on that once I’ve gotten a date scheduled. We had a good, long chat the other night, so I’m hopeful that someone listening in gets some benefit out of hearing my story and my struggles.
I try not to get too political about mental health, but let’s face it: mental health is widely ignored by insurance companies and even more widely stigmatized in society as a whole. I think back on the work that Carrie Fisher did to try to destigmatize mental illness, and I think this is one cause I can get behind, not only because it directly affects me but also because it affects such a wide range of people, and not enough people talk about it. Maybe one day, when I’ve hit the NYT bestseller list, I can have the kind of influence where my experiences make a difference.
Yes, I have a mental illness. Yes, I have bipolar disorder. Yes, I take medicines to be “normal.” No, I’m not crazy.
It’s my own fault, I suppose. I stopped practicing and fighting rapier because depression got the better of me, and now the rapier community in my Kingdom has all but forgotten me.
My husband gave up on rapier long before I did. He quit bringing his gear long before I did. But I’m a nonentity, a no one, so while he gets people asking him what gives, I get silence (save for a few steadfast friends who always ask where I’m at).
I don’t know. Maybe I’m not approachable. Maybe I hide off to the side too often, and people assume it’s where I want to be. Maybe they don’t know how much it hurts to think that almost no one cares if I’m out there or not.
Do I put on too good of a show? Have I hidden the pain that well? So few people seem to acknowledge my existence beyond a smile and a nod. I get a rare hug from someone outside my circle. I don’t get invited to stuff (except tangientially, as an extension of my husband or friends), and I often wonder if I ever cross people’s minds when I’m not there.
The worst part is he doesn’t realize how much it hurts me when he goes on and on about it. About how so many people talk to him and chat with him and I’m over here like “Hey, I exist too. I’m a person. I’m a rapier fighter.”
Have I lost that part of my identity? Am I perhaps no longer a rapier fighter? If not, then what am I? I’m not an artist until my husband shows off my work. I’m not a leader, not a helper, not anything. I just float along on my husband’s coattails, clinging to the hope that one of his friends will think I’m worth talking to.
I think I need to go to bed now. I’m clearly not thinking right. I’m getting emotional over something silly. Maybe these people do give a shit. Maybe they just think I don’t need conversation or comraderie or anything other than a smile and a nod.
It started with a plan. Well, part of a plan. Thirty percent of a plan.
You see, it was early in the morning–pre-dawn early–and I was bored. I didn’t want to work on embroidery and I didn’t want to transcribe what I’d handwritten at Estrella into the computer. So I did the next logical creative thing I could think of: I asked Twitter for a prompt.
I didn’t want just any prompt. I didn’t want to go to Pinterest and pick one, or Google “writing prompts” and see what came up. I didn’t want to pick and choose what I used to spread my creative wings; I wanted something 100% unexpected.
Twitter did not disappoint. Within the hour, I had an interesting prompt that sparked a full flash fiction piece, and the results were amazing. My Twitter impressions went from their usual couple hundred per active hour to over a thousand. I gained a few new followers, and I wrote something that people enjoyed. Win-win.
I got bored again this morning, and once again I asked the Twitterverse for a prompt. Again I received one, and again I wrote a story that was well-received.
I’m going to try it again soon–maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the next day, but soon, and I’ll maybe make it a weekly or semi-weekly thing. I like that I’m totally at the mercy of the #WritingCommunity followers on Twitter, and I have no clue what prompt will come my way. Will it be something that inspires horror? Action? Suspense? Romance? Who knows! That’s the fun!
My Editor-in-Chief slash mentor loves the idea, and she loves that I managed to get some new traction going on my own accord. Now I have to keep that momentum going. But will the third time be a charm, or will it flop?
Only time will tell. I can’t write every genre well. There are going to be times when people say “Meh.” But I can try, and I can do my best. That’s what matters in this test of my writing skills: what I can do with a first draft based off a prompt from a random stranger.
It’s time again for an appearance on Writer Imperfect, the Twitch streaming show about writing, publishing, and … vampires?
That’s right, the other esteemed authors I’ll be speaking with have all written vampire stories at some point or another. I’ve had a couple shorts on this blog about vampires, but nothing novel-length. (Well, there was that one failed attempt at a gypsy vampire novel. It was terrible. So, so terrible.) So I’m sure the talk will circle around to that at some point. Lol
I really enjoyed myself at my first appearance, and I’m hoping next Monday goes equally well. I didn’t feel to nervous or awkward, and despite River deciding to appear on camera in the background with her legs spread-eagled, it went great. I had fun, and I felt at home with these other, more experienced authors.
For authors who want a good time chatting with other authors (plus some good exposure), I highly recommend signing up for an appearance on this program. It’s every M-W-F at 8pm PST, and it’s an hour of fun and shenanigans. The show is rated mature, and there’s a reason. 😉 We can talk about some crazy stuff. I have seen–no lie–a discussion about killing zombies with butt plugs. It’s a thing that happened. I wasn’t on that episode (I probably would have shot coffee out my nose if I had been), but it was a wild ride.
I’m kinda excited for this next appearance, and after that I’m going to get together with my co-author for The Hunting Woods and work out a time when we can both sign up. That should be a great show. 😉
It’s a little after 0500 here in Arizona, and all I can think of to write here is a slew of complaints about my stressful job and my equally stressful life. But nobody wants to hear about that…or at least, I assume nobody wants to hear that.
What to talk about then? Well, I am patiently awaiting the first round of edits on Escape the Light. I’m eager to see how it turns out, especially since I tried to be aware of my writing weaknesses when I was drafting and revising it, so my hope is there’s less work for my editors this book. Be wary of adverbs. Don’t use gerunds. Watch the telling and staging. I don’t know how well I did on the last bit, but at least on the adverbs and gerunds I tried my damnedest to limit or eliminate them. Gotta learn from the first time.
I want to say that I’ve made progress on my assignment to book podcasts, but I’m still exhausted from Estrella War and haven’t had the energy to go searching for new ones to contact. Just now my eyes are crossing from being so sleepy, and I have to force them to both focus on the same target in the same direction.
I’m getting back into the embroidery commission after getting stalled at Estrella with all the rain and damp and ick. I didn’t want the fabric to get ruined, so the projects basically stayed in their little Ziplock baggies the whole time. It sucks that I’ve had to push it back again, but what can I do? Better to turn in a quality product than to rush or ruin it. Also halted by the rains was my embroidery class that I planned on teaching at Estrella. It turned out there were people actually interested in it, so I agreed to teach it at an upcoming event in another Barony.
My dad’s birthday is Friday, and I have zero ideas on what to give him. Not even Mom has any ideas. He’s been mum about what he wants/needs. Maybe a finger splint after the dog bite? I have no idea. What do you get for a retiree who returned to the work force who has all the hiking/camping gear he needs, all the work equipment he needs, and all the yard work stuff he needs?
My aches and pains from Estrella’s grueling weather are almost gone. I guess that’s one less thing to bitch about. I still ache, but it’s more on a tolerable level. Basically, I’m back to baseline (for me) in that it’s roughly equivalent to my normal rheumatoid aches and pains. There’s still that one pesky muscle in my back that’s bugging me, but it’s trivial at this point.
Speaking of the War, the Laurel friend I’ve been talking to the past year has agreed to take me on as her apprentice here soon, so that’s another embroidery thing to do…I have to have a green belt (as is the SCA standard for apprentices), which my husband is going to weave for me, but the ends have to be embroidered with her device. It should be quick and simple to do, but it’s the doing that needs to be done.
Aaaand I sat on the heating pad button and didn’t realize it until my back suddenly got really hot. I better coffee up if I’m going to function at work today!
Bipolar disorder sucks, but it’s livable given the right access to good mental healthcare and the right combination of therapy and pharmaceuticals. Why am I bringing this up now? Well, I’m in talks to, er, talk on a podcast about mental health issues. I was introduced to the podcast by a fellow bipolar author, and it seems like a good fit. I have mental health issues that I have to deal with on a daily basis; they’re a show about mental health.
I talk about mental health a lot here, about my stresses and stressors and stressing out in general, but I want to make it known that you can fight the demons inside and live in the world outside at the same time. It just takes a lot of effort.
It also takes admitting that you need the help.
Hopefully my appearance will help others realize that they don’t have to be holed up in their own little world of demons, suffering through hell on a daily basis. Hopefully it will help them realize that there are options and avenues for relief. And hopefully they’ll realize that they can’t give up after a few things don’t work; they have to keep trying until they find the right combination of therapies for them.
I’d say more, but that would be potential spoilers for the show. 😉 More details as they come!
It’s 0432, and I’m at a friend’s house for the night, waiting for my husband to wake up so we can go the rest of the way home. So what’s an insomniac to do but write?
I tried to take a writing break during Estrella War, but my story started speaking to me again, and I couldn’t ignore it. This is after weeks of little to no progress on Book 3, so I’m glad the Muses decided to become chatty. Still, hand writing when you’ve pulled a muscle in your back (on your dominant side) isn’t exactly fun. I’ve already called out from work–well, texted out, I should say–and I foresee a heating pad in my future once I’m home… Possibly a doctor’s appointment. Depends on how much worse it gets. At the moment, I really don’t want to yawn, as I discovered last night that breathing too deep causes pain in the pulled muscle.
My feet hurt, too, as well as my legs, but it’s more of an ache from overuse of muscles that I’m not accustomed to using. You’d be surprised how many new muscle groups you will discover when you have to sludge through half a foot of thick, slippery mud for days on end. It actually got to the point where walking on dry land felt unnatural.
I’ve been tasked by my publisher’s publicist to find and book no less than three (preferably five) podcast appearances by mid March. I’ve had terrible luck getting responses, so that’s another thing I’m going to have to do once my laptop is unburied from the mess that is our car. I’ve enlisted the help of Twitter, whose #writingcommunity hashtag is a wealth of help and knowledge for newer authors like me, but I’m still going to do the “legwork” of searching podcast apps and contacting shows. It’s going to take a lot of my time, but I know it’s for my own good. I need to keep promoting ABNORMAL even though I’m working simultaneously on ESCAPE THE LIGHT and Book 3. An author’s work is never done, I guess.
I’ll be glad to get home. I miss my cats, miss my shower, miss my bed. I miss my house, my comfy couch, and all the things that I couldn’t take with to Estrella.
I wish that I had ventured out from camp more during the War. I was so miserable that I didn’t make enough of an effort to see friends that I rarely get to see or even to meet new friends. To my SCAdian friends, I apologize for not having much of a presence this War. I’d promise to make more events or something, but I’m still not sure what my mental state is following this “break” from work. I feel somewhat refreshed in the sense that, aside from a few frantic texts, I haven’t had to think about work in a week. However, that little twitch in my right lower eyelid is still there, and I still don’t know how I feel about getting back into attending more SCA events. I want to keep active, but I also need to take my mental health into consideration. That being said, I got some of the best hugs this past week, much needed and sorely missed.
Goodbye, Estrella War. Until next year.
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