Mind matters

In matters of the mind, what really matters?

Well, right now, in my mind, the little things apparently matter–in a big way. I’m talking about all the little things that people say that might be well-intended but get skewed in perception.

Here’s the thing: I commented on a post in the writing group I’m part of. Big mistake. Really big mistake.

The OP (original poster) was talking about how if you want to be a best-selling author you need to think like a best-selling author and treat your writing like the job it is. Okay. Fine. But what about the job I have that pays the bills? What about the few real-life friends I have? What about my physical and mental exhaustion? Did the OP have any advice for me on that?

Not really. I was basically told that, since the SCA is not 100% necessary (like the job obviously is) I need to reevaluate my commitments to it (and, of course, the people in it). Okay. I kinda get that, but the OP fails to realize that the SCA is my only source of real-life friends outside of the one or two friends I have at work. So….to succeed I need to give up having friends?

Yeah, that’s how my brain works. But that’s not the best part. It gets better.

The OP also told me to “schedule” writing time and “prioritize” it. Okay. But I kind of already do that. Unless I have an urgent embroidery project (oops! there’s that pesky SCA thing again), my insomniac mornings are spent on writing, editing, and marketing my writing through social media interactions. So, yeah, I schedule writing time in a manner of speaking. I prioritize it by choosing that over trying in vain to go back to sleep. I spend hours on this. Almost every day. Probably cumulatively more time than I spend at work, when I think about it. I can easily be awake for 5-6+ hours in the morning before getting ready for the day job, and I spend a lot of weekend free time on writing as well. Hell, sometimes I sneak a little modern day into the SCA events by using my phone for Twitter interactions and Instagramming and yeah, I even bring my laptop on camping events so I can hotspot my phone and–you guessed it!–work on writing, editing, and marketing.

But my brain’s not done yet. No sirree. My brain had to tell me that the OP was singling me out. He had to have been picking on me. Insulting me. Telling me that I will fail if I don’t do the things the way he says to do them. That’s what my brain got out of that.

So that’s the worst of it, right? I got over it, calmed down, recentered my perception and got out of my own way?

Nope. I went full-on psycho paranoid ultrasensitive bitch.

I worded my response carefully, or so I thought. I didn’t bite back, even though I felt attacked. I kept it calm. Or did I…..?

Guess not, because the next day, the OP wrote another inspirational/motivational/well-intended post, this time about excuses.

Oh, shit. There goes my mind again.

Clearly he’s writing about me. Clearly he’s targeting me in this verbal assault. I’m obviously the sole inspiration for this outrageous insult. When I was asking for advice on how to deal with all that’s going on in my life, I was obviously making excuses and thus the new post was born.

I’m trying to tell myself it’s not personal. Or at least, if it is personal, it’s meant to help not harm. I am trying.

Oh, shit again. There I go. Using “try.” (The OP also posted about taking “try” out of one’s vocabulary today. Yeah. Today was a two-fer.)

I’d say that it’s a neurochemical shitstorm (ooh! I like that phrase–sounds better than “off my rocker”) in my brain right now, what with the medicine that helps me de-stress and not think this way being denied by my insurance, but I don’t even know where mind and matter separate at the moment. I don’t know where the line is. I don’t even know if there’s a line anymore. My mind is twisting everything I read to be an affront against my person, and I don’t know how to stop it.

I was better in my outward reaction today. I bitched to one or two people privately, but I didn’t comment on his posts. I kept my fat mouth shut. What does it matter, anyway? He’ll just twist my words around to make everything that’s wrong with my life my fault and I’ll feel even shittier than I already do. Best to leave it alone.

One of these days–maybe not soonish, but some day–I’ll even out. I’ll stop taking every little thing personally. Until then, though, I’d better retreat. Back into the shell you go, personality. Back in there before you screw something else up.

Almost Home

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.

Absent mind

I thought I was all set for this weekend out of town. I had my garb set aside, my “naked” clothes, my toiletries, my embroidery, my laptop, my shoes, rapier gear, tankard, and even my writing/author organizer binder just in case. All of that….. and I forgot my pills.

Not just one pill, or just certain ones. All. Of. Them. I have cough drops in my purse, and that’s it as far as pharmaceuticals go. No mood stabilizer. No Adderall. No antidepressant. No arthritis meds. No sleeping meds. No fucking antibiotics for this lingering bronchitis. Not even a single Benadryl in case I get stung.

I can’t believe I totally, completely forgot all of my medicine. I’ll admit, sometimes I forget to take a set of doses–Maybe I’m out too late, and by the time I get home it’s past a reasonable time to take my night meds without fear of having trouble waking up the next day. Maybe I’m in a hurry and forget to take my morning handful before I leave the house. But two whole days without anything?

I’m so going to regret this.

There might still be hope. Our roommate might go to the same city we’re headed to this weekend (but not to the same event)… so if she’s feeling generous maybe I can talk her into grabbing the pill case before she leaves home and meeting us up somewhere for the “drop.”

I hope.

If not, the withdrawal’s gonna suck.

Trial and Error: Thumbnail Not Found

Despite my illness, the past 24-48 hours have been relatively productive. I’ve sewn two new garb pieces (the tunic I mentioned before, and an underdress to wear with my apron dress now that the underdresses I have don’t fit my sausage arms), made progress on the royal embroidery for the King and Queen of Atenveldt, done as much cleaning around the house as my lungs would allow, and, oh yeah, started a Twitter experiment.

Let me explain the experiment: There’s an author, Dea Poirier, who I follow on Twitter. I ran across a couple tweets of hers yesterday offering advice to fellow authors, and I decided to try her method and see what comes of it. Here’s what she said:

Screenshots courtesy of Dea Poirier and my phone.

It was a long thread, so I’m not going to post the whole thing, but these were the important bits. What did I do this morning? Well, I played copycat…in more ways than one.

You see, it had never occurred to me to make bitly links to the various places I can be found…so I’d never made them. Shorten all those links, though, and man, it makes it easy to find me. Observe:

Granted, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to get it to show the thumbnail for the Amazon buy link instead of my Amazon author page, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. I mean, I must’ve deleted and rewritten/reorganized the tweet some half dozen times before I gave up. (Hence this post title.) Lol

We’ll see how it affects my various pages and their traffic. Who knows? Maybe you’re reading this because you saw my tweet and decided to look at my site. Maybe you checked out the link to Abnormal. Maybe you’ll come across this post and decide to check out my Twitter. Or Facebook. Or Instagram. Couldn’t hurt anything, right?

I think the publisher’s going through Book 2 right now. The Creative Director asked how I’d prefer to receive my story edit suggestions (changes made for me vs actual suggestions/guidelines), so I think she’s on her way to tearing into my carefully-worded not-quite-masterpiece. And that’s okay. It needs some tearing into. I won’t improve if I don’t get these suggestions from those who know better than I.

In sickness news, the cough persists and continues to wake me up at night. I get winded with minimal physical exertion. My voice is raspy. Regardless of these facts, I’m headed back into work today to play catch-up and to, y’know, work. I’ve actually missed work these days in isolation. Crazy, I know.

Speaking of work, maybe I can get some more shuteye before I have to get ready…if, that is, I don’t wake up coughing my lungs out.

Sicko’s Log: 24 Hours Alone

It’s been about a day since I got home from the pharmacy after spending almost four hours at the doc-in-the-box. What has a day alone been like? Let’s see…

I slept off and on quite a bit. I got a lot of progress made on my royal embroidery project. I wrote a chapter in one book and tweaked another chapter in a different book. I ate–a LOT. (Apparently bronchitis is not having an adverse effect on my appetite.) I watched several movies on Netflix. I listened to music. Somewhere in there, I had brief human contact when a friend came by to pick up my car to take it to my husband, who is out of town. Oh, and I’ve nearly completed a new Viking tunic for myself to wear at Estrella War.

I’m kinda proud of myself for that last one. Eyeballed the whole thing (I know, there are garb makers out there cringing), and only really had to make one small adjustment… more for comfort than anything, really, as it still would have fit, just been really big on me. I plan on adding trim woven by my husband (hint, hint honey) later on, as well as some embroidery done by yours truly.

Sure, if I wasn’t manic with pent-up energy from being confined to the house for over 24 hours, I might have stopped and done the embroidery prior to assembling the tunic. But no, I had it in my head that I was going to make a tunic, and that’s just what I’m doing.

I’ve got color blocking and front and back facing and top stitching and a whole bunch of stuff that I’ve never done without a pattern before. That, of course, has not deterred me. I took the fabric I had, looked at what it could become, and went with it.

I’ve still got to stitch on the sleeves and side gores, but it’s almost done. All in all, not bad for twenty four hours of mind-numbing solitude.

I’ve got maybe another day or so before my husband gets home. I’ve got some cleaning up to do around the house, but I’m wondering if I can swing an underdress before he’s back…..

Follow me on Instagram to see how the tunic turned out!

Stir crazy

It’s not even 24 hours since I got back from urgent care–hell, not even 12 hours–and I’m already going mad puttering around the house.

The first few hours were okay. I sat in the dark and coughed until my throat was raw. Then I coughed some more. I stayed up until my friend came to pick up the car to take to my husband in Tucson (he’d gotten a ride up there, and until the doc-in-the-box diagnosed me with the bronchitis I already knew I had, I was going to be his ride home), and then I slept for a few hours. Woke up at my usual nothing-in-the-morning, and surprisingly felt a lot better. Cough isn’t as prolific. Sinuses aren’t draining. I can breathe better. It’s amazing what a little antibiotic pill will do, given time to work.

Speaking of work, the next couple of months are going to suck. I’ve got to use all my PTO to fill up as much of the past two weeks as I can, so when Estrella War comes I won’t have as much available to use. It’s gonna be tight money-wise until I catch up from this mess. I missed two and a half days this week from sickness, and a full day from the holiday. Add in the fact that I had very few hours last week because of the holidays, and it equals a crap paycheck.

Even though I kind of feel a bit better now, I don’t want to risk making things worse by doing too much. There’s a lot of cleaning to do around the house, but I have to remind myself that I am still sick and I shouldn’t be overdoing things. Still, I’ll try to get the house straightened up as well as I can before my husband comes home.

I’d say that this is good for my writing, but I can’t focus very long at a time to be able to compose things. I’ve got a bit of attention deficit right now, whether brought on by the NyQuil or the sickness or who knows what. I’ll embroider for like twenty minutes, write for twenty or thirty, stare at the screen daydreaming for an hour, and repeat the cycle. Now I’m cruising Netflix in search of mindless fluff to watch. The first show I picked–Diabolo–was too full of cheese. I couldn’t finish even one episode, let alone binge a season. So I’m on to Coraline now. Never seen that one through to the end, and a movie’s easier on the attention span. Don’t have to remember what happened in the last episode.

I feel bad that I’m missing my husband’s second time being feast steward for an SCA event. I wanted to be there to support him, but I need this time at home to recoup.

Maybe later today I’ll have a story to give you. I might drudge up some prompt or other, either a stock photo or a Pinterest prompt to get the creative juices flowing.

Pan’s Labyrinth! That’s the ticket. I can listen to the Spanish while I do other stuff and let the visuals seep into my subconscious. Then, when I’m in the proper mindset, I can drum up some new writing.

The persistent plague

Took yesterday off work. Took today off too. I’m still pretty sick, and nothing seems to help for very long.

Our roommate finished the Persian garb for me, bless her heart, and she even adjusted my husband’s coat when it turned out that the one I made was too big. I’m really grateful… I need to think up something nice to do for her.

I’ll have most of the day to myself today. Hubby works a couple of hours, but then he and our roommate are going to Tucson for the weekend’s event. He’s organizing a huge Middle Eastern feast, so he’s got a lot to do. Me? I’m going to show up at the event and wear my garb and maybe make a last-minute scarf to cover my mouth when I’m not eating, because I don’t really want to get anyone else sick.

Normally right now I’m on the couch, writing or something, but this morning I’m back in bed after reading the most current chapter in the collaboration I’m working on. I’ll write my chapter later today. Now I rest.

The cough is dry yet not. I still can’t catch my breath, and my sinuses are a hot mess. I’ve got a vaporizer going above me on the headboard (courtesy of the roommate–I really need to get her something nice), and I’ve got NyQuil freshly on board.

Tomorrow I’ll be better. (I’m mostly trying to convince myself here.) The cough won’t give me a headache any more, and I’ll be able to breathe.

I’m not sure I’ve convinced myself yet. But one thing I know for sure: I’ll get my chapter done, plus some work on Book 3. Gotta keep working on at least one front, even if it’s not by-the-hour work.

I realize that I’m rambling. Sorry. Guess the NyQuil is taking effect. Good. More sleep. That’s what I need.

Goal!

It’s that time of year again–time to set the new year’s goals/”resolutions” and reflect on where the old year took me.

Let’s start with 2018. 2018 was a long, full year of firsts and new triumphs. I went to my first Estrella War, moved into my first house, published my first novel, submitted my first sequel…. Sure, there were moments when I wanted to rip my hair out, but overall it hasn’t been too bad.

What do I need to do for this year? Let’s take a look (in no particular order):

-Get Book 2 in the bag and on the shelves. Yeah, I’ve got the first draft submitted and the first round of revisions (in before the new year!), but, as I’ve learned, there’s so much more to getting a novel published than simply writing it. Lol

-Take it easy on the SCA events so I can have time for other projects–to include my writing. I’ve been overdoing it entirely too much, and I need to pull back and reevaluate where I’m going in the SCA and how fast I want to get there.

-Finish the draft for Book 3 and polish it for submission. This is kind of a given. I have to keep them rolling while I still have story to tell, and the further ahead I get the easier it will be to stay on top of the writing game.

-Remember to keep marketing Abnormal. I can’t stop just because the book’s been out a few months now.

-Start a collaboration project. Because yeah. I need more on my plate. Lol

-Get more organized at work and get ahead of that game as well. I’ve got charts piled up, and they won’t stop coming any time soon.

-Focus on health. I need to zero in on what I should prioritize health-wise to take care of myself. Walk more? Eat less? Sure, but what then? I’m the biggest I’ve ever been, and at this rate it’ll be hell to try to fit into all of my garb for this year’s Estrella War. As it is, I’ve got all of a month and a half to drop a few pounds and squeeze into the garb I have–or to alter the garb I have/make new garb. Either way, I’d better get on the ball.

-Be more assertive with my needs. I can’t keep trying to please other people. I have things I need to be physically and mentally sound, and setting those things to the side so other people aren’t disappointed won’t do me any good in the long run.

That’s all I have for now, but I’m sure I’ll come up with more. Right now, I’m trying to focus after a three-hour night’s sleep…and right now, my brain has fewer tabs functioning than my web browser.

Oh, and one more thing about 2019–it’s gonna bring me the big 4-0! That’s right, I’ll be 40 this summer. Will I have a midlife crisis? Will I sail through? Who knows? The fun’s in finding out!

Here’s to making 2019 my bitch!

Post-Christmas funk

It happens. Christmas comes and goes and you’re left with a void that you don’t quite know what to do about. You may have to go back to work, or do chores, or return something that someone got you, but after that, what is there?

For me, I’m thankful that I have my sequel to work on. Sure, I’ve got other projects aplenty, but this morning, at oh-dark-thirty, I cranked out almost two thousand words… And that’s not taking into account the words I deleted. I was on a roll!

Of course right before I got to the good part, I had to leave for work. The office beckons, and I must answer. At least until, say, three o’clock or so. Then it’s off to the household twelfth night party. Tomorrow’s a full day of lasers, Friday through Sunday I’m off, and next week, aside from having New Year’s Day off, it’s back to life as usual.

So I’m excited over the progress in my next book, not so much over the working. And yes, I am aware that I have nearly two full Persian outfits to make and a set of cuffs to embroider and two hems and….

Ugh. Can another holiday be added in here?

Aww, who am I kidding? I need the money from the day job, need the sanity from the writing, and need the sewing projects for when the words fail me.

Slow burn

I’m trying. I really am.

I get up and go to work every weekday (unless the office is closed or–rarely–I request off for an appointment or something). I work a full week, sometimes into overtime, and I hardly ever call out or ask to go home early. I clock in on time, and I stay until my boss says I can go. If that means clocking out less than twelve hours before I have to clock in again, then that’s what I do. If it means working when I’m in pain, I do. If it means working through a panic attack, I do. I can’t afford not to.

Most weekends I end up doing SCA things; whether it’s an event, a household meeting, rapier practice, or crafting various things for SCA events, household meetings, or (rarely) something just for me.

I sleep when my body lets me. Sometimes it’s six hours, more often closer to four, maybe four and a half. I drink caffeine and take Adderall to make it through the above listed days without falling asleep sitting up…or standing up. Or while driving.

I do the laundry every week, sometimes multiple days a week. Sometimes I’m aching enough that I have difficulty picking up the clothes that end up on the floor instead of the hamper…. so I leave them. Sometimes I’m so worn out from all the other things that I leave the clean laundry in the dryer for a few days and just fluff it when I need something to wear. Sometimes I go to the effort of taking the laundry out of the dryer and putting it back in the hamper until I have the energy to put it away.

When I have time alone–usually in the wee hours, when sleep evades me–I write. Or edit. Or revise. Or embroider. Or sew. Or plan and execute social media marketing stuff for my writing.

There’s more, but right now I can’t think of exactly what.

I’m trying. I really am. But I am feeling more and more burned out lately. Just thinking about the things I have to do makes me exhausted and depressed. The things that I used to do for fun are now duties. Chores. Requirements. Necessities. There are deadlines upon deadlines upon deadlines. Even the SCA events that used to get me all excited now fill me with dread. It’s not “yay! I get to do this thing!” It’s “well, I guess I have to do this thing.” 

I need some me time. Problem is, time is not something that I have available to give myself. It’s all filled with things. Work. SCA. Housework. Crafting.

I can only do so much. My body and my mind and my spirit are all stretched as far as they can go.

I need to think. Introspect. Look inside. Take all the pieces and see where they fit–and what ones shouldn’t even be in the puzzle. I need to prioritize and cut back where I can. 

Some people might feel like I’m pulling away, but it’s not trying to get away from them so much as trying to regroup.

I’m committed to several things for the next two months. I have to hold on at least that long. But after Estrella War?

I might not try as hard. I really might not.