Resolutions

I've spent my entire life dreaming of becoming a better version of myself, of someone worthy of adulation, accolades, and respect. Basically, someone of value. Someone a young me would like to look up to.

I've made my share of New Year's resolutions, but to be honest there were very few years (probably mainly in my early adulthood) that I thought up anything of the typical go to the gym, eat all the kale, revolutionize my personal finances, clone baby unicorns, completely transform the very core of myself from stem to stern kind of things.

Sticking to new things is tricky. Adhering to completely new patterns of behavior that are healthy/beneficial but take effort? It'd be easier to clone those baby unicorns.

And then, most of us end up back at the same point we are now, only we've compiled the self-loathing, disappointment and guilt by another 12 months.

There is something to be said for a universal restart date, to be fair. Even if you fall off the wagon a month in, two weeks in.... 4 hours in. Sometimes that unified kick in the pants does help people. (Damn you NaNoWriMo and your life lessons!)

So here's my intentions for 2016, along with anything awesome that comes my way in the year (Much like coffee came into my life in 2015. The unexpected but sweet, life-giving gift of 2015):

Uno: Keep on this positivity business. I can't quite seem to shake the sarcasm that runs through my head, BUT, reducing the volume of negativity in my mind and in the space around me has been fan-freaking-tastic. I annoy myself with it from time to time. But I still stand by not wanting to waste the rest of my life being unhappy. Too much of my heritage seems to stem from an unhappy or dark place. I don't want to be a willing participant, so I choose to be positive. I choose magic and hope.

Deux: Create and stick to a solid writing schedule. My life, day to day and week to week is constantly subject to change. I may never be a bestselling author, but I enjoy writing (mostly) and I enjoy how peaceful I feel after I've written. So for 2016 I'd like more consistency in getting that feeling and logging the practice time for my craft.

: Work on another language. I make no secret of my nerd status. I adore history. I own more reference books than most people own... well... regular books. (Shame! Shame on you all!) I also have a very deep love affair with foreign language. Once upon a time (or the 1990s), I excelled in my language classes. Enough that all of my language teachers had high hopes for me carrying on in their footsteps or even being an ex-pat overseas. Mmm, I can still taste that dream. A combination of things happened (the early things legitimately out of my control) and suddenly I'm middle aged and have the merest of marginal grasps of my own native tongue. A few years ago I had what I look back on now as an experience with people briefly passing through my life for a reason. I knew them less than a year before they had to move on, which was a total bummer. But, they were native French speakers. I dusted off a few long retired language skills and they generously complimented my accent. It's entirely possible they were trying to be polite. Doesn't matter. This year I've connected with new friends who speak/sign/read multiple languages. So I'm making my move and returning to something I enjoyed so very much. Learning, a nerd's New Year resolution.

Vier: Read at least a chapter every day & make it through at least 2 library books a month (& hopefully at least 1 book from my at home collection a month). I used to be a voracious reader. Various library systems at my disposal through the years and none of them could keep up with me. Interlibrary loans? Oh yeah, baby, now we're talking. Horror, historic, nonfiction, romance, biographies, erotica, cookbooks, urban fantasy, young adult; I read it all. If I didn't like it, I'd move along. If I could finish the first of a series, I borrowed the rest of the books. I could finish at least a book a day with optimal reading conditions, a few a week if I was super busy. And then the last few years I found myself in a rut. I needed to be in the right mood to read any kind of book, moods which hardly seemed to come around. My to be read lists and piles kept growing, but I wasn't even finishing a book a month. WTF?! I can't take it, so I'm recommitting to getting my reading groove back.

There are of course other less official things to stick with that the new year doesn't impact. I want to continue improving myself in constructive and realistic ways. (Keep taking your vitamins, you cantankerous woman!) Continue to construct and live with healthy boundaries. (You're not an asshole for saying no to users. Say yes to new opportunities, say no to other people's bullshit. Be open and accepting, but not a doormat.) Try new things, explore & have fun. (I don't... I don't really need to go any further with that one, right?) And perhaps most of all, be present. Enjoy each day, enjoy time with each loved one, and enjoy the quiet moments that help to recalibrate me.

He's magical, take his advice.

And my hopes for the coming year, aside from flexing my linguistic muscle (Oh My!) and trying to maintain that elusive inner peace? I wouldn't mind a few magical, miraculous and amazingly wonderous gifts/accomplishments/goals/hopes/dreams coming true. A little something for yourselves as well would be awesome.

What about you?  Got any plans for the next 12 months to make 2016 your best year yet?

Happy New Year and Viva el Café!!!

It's beginning to look a lot like... orbs?

What's the best way to spend the Saturday before Christmas? Baking Christmas cookies? Getting stone cold drunk as you anticipate interacting with relatives you've avoided for a year? Finishing/Starting gift shopping? Ordering take out Chinese/Thai/Sushi snuggled under a blanket while you binge watch whatever's next on your Netflix que? Wrapping presents? Hacking a North Pole employee on the credenza into pieces and burning it for your own safety?

This year, I mixed things up. And by mixed things up, I made plans, left my house and socialized while taking a 'ghost' tour in a local community. 

I should rewind. A year ago I struck out and joined a local writing group. I met people. We started hanging out (focused on our laptops while slurping copious amounts of coffee). Happy/relieved/stunned to meet others with similar interests in our neck of the woods, we talked about getting out and exploring the world around us. Writer's style. Politely taking tours, going to other coffeehouses, watching everyone and noticing everything. (It's all fodder, folks.)

One of the first, if not the first, suggestion was to take the night time spooky tour over in Cassadaga. Um, yes, please! Cassadaga is a small, four corners kind of community in Central Florida, the epicenter of metaphysical Florida. It was founded in the late 1800's by a gentleman from NY who purported to be a medium. If you have an interest in psychic phenomena, Spiritualism (specifically, not just being a spiritual person) or just weird Florida, you may have heard of it. It started as a camp for people who were a part of the Spiritualist movement to devote themselves to the study and practice of communing with spirits. I'm sure I've oversimplified that, but there are better articles about the full history in other places. 

For my purposes, I had visited previously only during the day. On one corner is the hotel/restaurant/bar/coffee shop that also offers psychic readings. Anyone in town will stress that it's independently owned and the psychics there are not affiliated with the rest of the town. Opposite the hotel is the bookstore/community center. Here you can find everything from books to incense, local psychics and/or mediums currently available for readings and even classes or tours. Probably the best place to start when you get there. 

This visit, a small group of writers grabbed a cup of coffee each and headed out on the coldest night of December (A brisk 50-something degrees - sweatshirts and socks were necessary. It was brutal, but we did our best to be brave.) to our destination. One of us thankfully thought ahead and brought conversation starters which kept us animatedly entertained on the drive over. Conversation, boys and girls, that's how you tickle the fancy of people like me, good ole conversation.

To our surprise, parking was almost a problem. Not from all the others lined up to take the tour (we were the only ones brave enough to venture out on such a frigid night) but from folks indulging in karaoke at the hotal/bar/restaurant. We snagged the last open area along the road (in front of a line of pick up trucks, naturally) and headed over to the after-hours door at the community center for tours and meetings. Our tour guide was surprised to see us, noting that there usually isn't a turn out on the cooler nights. 

We were given a brief history of the town and the basics in terms of beliefs and practices. I personally find the study of other cultures, religions, etc to be interesting (Or they can be. Because I'm a nerd. You have caught on to that, right?). Now I've seen plenty of ghost hunting shows. I tend to like a certain variety of spooky. From the safety of my perfectly normal house viewing a perfectly ordinary television. So when the guide pulled out two small flashlights and a little electric meter called an EMF or K-2 meter, I knew exactly what was coming. And I was entertained. The flashlights were turned on and then unscrewed, with the idea that spirit energy can manipulate the flashlights and turn them on and off to reveal an unseen presence. The meter has an arch of lights on the top, and as an unseen presence interacts with it or passes by it, the lights will flash on. 

During the explanation of the history of the community and what might occur on our tour, one of the flashlights did turn on and off. Suddenly light flashed to my left, and then slowly the light would dim until the light faded completely. Is there a scientific explanation for that happening? Probably, but it sure is kind of fun to see it actually happen live and in person. As for the meter, it was unremarkable until one of us leaned forward to examine a photograph the guide was sharing. It lit up like a Christmas tree and then stopped. We tried to recreate it, couldn't, and told our slightly unsettled companion that she had a visitor with her. Because I'm an asshole easily amused. And also, it didn't happen to me. The spooky stuff always happens to me. But not this time. Mwahhahaha!

Our tour around an old Florida community at night was interesting. It wasn't spooky or eerie. It was comfortable - because it was cool enough that there weren't any bugs and the neighborhood cat kept the possums at bay. I kid about the possums. Maybe. (Possums? Legitimately creepy.) Either way, thanks for the company, Simba! Florida is made up of cookie cutter, zero-lot-line subdivisions. Cassadaga is the exception to that rule. Beautiful old homes of various sizes and built for various purposes line the streets. Some used to be old boarding houses for the seasonal influx of Northerners. Some used to be meeting houses. Some... well plenty of them were just houses that happened to be built so that the second floor could be used to hold seances. And for the two story variety, you'll notice (or maybe you won't, I won't judge) a strange frame on one of the upstairs windows. Others have either replaced or kept what looks like, to Northern visitors or transplants familiar with lake effect snow, a snow door. A full size door on the second floor, leading out to the roof over the front porch or, to nowhere at all. Back in the day, when a medium was inviting spirits to seances, they believed the spirit would need to literally come through a door to join them. 

This is the kind of info that I take away from educational tours and pick at until I find a use for. How do you keep a group of writers entertained? Weird, random details. Totally love those. 

Completely accurate representation of me, each and every time I come across a randomly interesting factoid.

We wandered the streets on our guided tour. We pet the cat. A lot. We took pictures. So many pictures. Because, we were told, you should take 3-5 pictures of whatever you're clicking away at because an orb (departed loved one, higher being, pollen - you decide) might only show up in 1 of those images you took. Like trying to catch lightening in a bottle. Or hunt fireflies. Or... where am I?

Anyway, the point of this endeavor was to take pictures into the inky black night in the hopes of capturing orbs. I'm not here to debate what they are, because as a writer it behooves me to be open to interpretation (Look for my next book series on the fictional interpretation of orbs this spring. Espresso's kicked in, apologies for the excess shenanigans. Sort of.) You (or I should say most people) cannot see orbs with the naked eye, but if they're there, they can show up on pictures. Digital or film. Again, this is something I've seen on tv, in movies or read about in books. 

We stood between two trees near a lake, the location referred to as a portal, to see if we experienced any kind of sensation. It's supposed to be a high energy spot and a great place for orb pictures. Two thirds of us felt something, but the sensation varied. There were plenty of orbs that came out of those pictures as well. I didn't need to take 3-5 shots in a row, this area orbs showed up in every image. But the kind of cool thing, something that didn't happen in any other area where we caught orbs in our pictures, was that in successive pictures, the orbs moved with the person who stood in the portal. 

We were also given the opportunity to enter a few of the buildings in the area, a kind of backstage tour if you will of important meeting places. Nothing jumped out to scare us. No doors or floors or stairs creaked with an air of menace. They seemed like your garden variety church or fellowship hall, that just so happened to hold seances and call forth departed family members to give messages each Sunday. All in all, a very interesting and enjoyable evening for our group. 

Here's where I stand on this area of the paranormal or spiritual realm. I am skeptical by way of my father. But I am also open to the idea of just about anything being possible from him as well. There's a lot of bullshit and snake oil salesmen still out and about.  There are a lot of people looking for something more to believe in. There are plenty of things that were once deemed impossible that are now so commonplace that most people forget what life was like before them.  And there are plenty of things that have been disproved time and again. Whatever may or may not be out there, our tour was definitely a great way of adding to info and experiences to pull from for inspiration in the future. 

Always, Nessie. Always.

I should also say that after going through all the pictures and showing them to the rest of the group, a couple interested even the most skeptical among us. There were no faces or gentile Victorian apparitions stuck in time immortalized on my simple camera. I ended up with a lot more orb pictures than I expected. But a few gave us all pause, even if just for a second. Whatever an orb might be, wherever I happen to fall on the skepticism spectrum, a night tour of Cassadaga was completely worth it. 

The Great Company Holiday Party

My husband started a new job this year, which meant that we would eventually come to the ultimate test for shy folks each holiday season: the corporate holiday party. 

Our first company party was with his first job out of college. It was held at what used to be Downtown Disney and had to have cost a pretty penny. We got little drink vouchers for the bar, a dinner buffet, entertainment - and that was before some of the department heads got lit and stumbled around the crowded rooms. I didn't know a single soul there besides my husband and he wasn't comfortable enough with anyone there yet to do more than sit in one spot the whole time. It was a cool idea though, a fun thing to say we did once even if at the time it was a pretty slow night for us. 

It was the last event that company held that invited spouses. After that, most holiday parties were in-office potlucks. I think cutting out the company sponsored parties paid for more golf trips for the higher ups. Seriously. 

Fast forward several years to my own company Christmas parties. I had changed careers from therapy and non-profits to management. My first party was at my boss' favorite authentic Chinese restaurant. I'm talking chicken feet, octopus, fish eyes, tofu: things this corn-fed Midwestern by heritage/Southern by marriage girl was having a hard time with. My boss loved it. The rest of the office stopped at a drive thru on the way home. Another year my company took a stab at a Disney holiday party. We ate well.  We were thoroughly entertained. It was a cool way to celebrate. To this day I think of going to celebrate the holiday season with a visit to the Great Mouse Kingdom nearby because I can't think of anyplace else that does holiday magic as well as they do. 

When the economy did a header and my job went away (just like countless others at the time) it was the end of company holiday parties for us for almost six years. And then my husband got a new job. It was my first experience with an open bar. And that's a funny thing about me. To my sheltered experience, an open bar is the epitome of holiday parties. A company means business at a party when the drinks are flowing. I think I may have had one cocktail at two separate Christmas parties. But having spent a fair amount of time organizing and paying for company holiday minutia, I know money was spent here. Money that could have paid for several rounds of golf. 

Following the memories of the two Disney parties, my other favorite party had to be at one of our favorite restaurants. It was easily the best food we ever had at any of the parties we'd been to (At least according to my husband. Our second Disney party is neck and neck in my opinion.) At this event, my husband was friends with some of his co-workers (party after anyone?) and we hung out with some of the couples. Silly activities or not, we no longer sat in a room full of people without recognizing a single other face. 

So here we are, the first party of his new job. It's the biggest company he's ever worked for. It's one of the biggest companies anyone I know has ever worked for for that matter. And I'll tell you what, they know how to party. I explained to someone today that it was like the biggest, most expensive wedding reception I'd ever been to. There was no stuffed shirt standing in front of a room full of bored employees patting him- or herself on the back for another good year. There was a professional dj & a dance floor. There was an overflow seating area (where we ended up so the department could sit together and actually talk) with a pool table and shuffleboard. There were strobe lights and a projection light with holiday messages. Honest to goodness waitstaff with platters of  horse doovers hors d'oeuvres. Buffets with passable food, dessert stands with mixed desserts. Two open bars with top shelf liquor. And a bartender who was totally hitting on me. (My husband noticed, which means she was just short of slapping my ass and shoving her number down my bra. There is a difference between being charming for tips and what that was. Not that it wasn't flattering. Because as a middle-aged married woman, it totally was.)

I met some of the folks my honey works with, awkwardly sitting with other spouses trying to navigate the night. (My husband, bless his heart, on our way home said he thought one of the spouses didn't want to be there because she looked around the room, bored the whole time. Laughing, I asked him what he thought I did all night.) I did end up chatting with a few of my husband's co-workers, some really interesting guys from all over the world. That was probably one of the highlights for me, talking about culture, tech and such with people from almost every continent on the globe. Did I mention it's a really big company? And this was just the local division. 

There was one less than stellar moment (awkward shyness doesn't count because that's my thing in general, thank you very much) early on. One of the spouses was trying to be polite and break the silence at the table, so he turned to me and asked if we had any children. Our first holiday party at this place with hundreds of people I've never met is not the place to mention my medical history (Or is it? I tend to think not.). So I gave him a friendly smile and a no, then asked if he and his wife did. He kind of flustered a bit and said something about how I must not want them to mess up my house and then didn't speak to me again the rest of the night. 

Um, what? 

Now I was actually relieved about the last part. He didn't strike me as the kind of person I could discuss anything from existentialism to fart jokes with. But the (perceived) sanctimonious judgement irked me. I mean, WTF dude?! For all you know I just lost a child. For all you know I had cancer. Or a childhood illness. Or a parasite ate my ovaries. Or my fallopian tubes exploded because of aliens. Or a demon rents out my womb in exchange for free cable tv for life. You. Don't. Know.

This is the first time I've had such a blatant negative response when someone asks me if I have kids. Most of the time it's shrugged off. Sometimes there is a thinly veiled reference to how much easier my life is without them. *snort* *eye roll* *bitch slap* Or that I could take one of theirs.

As annoyed as I was and as much as I considered saying something to him, it's none of his judgmental business. 

But all in all, one of our better first Christmas parties. It's nice to see people being nice or joking around with my husband. He's been shit on plenty in his career. And the people watching at a company event this size? Forget about it. Outside of our inner tech cocoon, there were clear plastic platform heels, tutus, pink AND gold lamé outfits, prom dresses and at least one tuxedo with tails. The rest of the folks wore suits and cocktail dresses, so it looked like a cruise dining room fused with a prom. Total writing fuel, boys and girls. 

Just like everyone else & a little clarification

A 'quick' note about posts: Despite finding inspiration in conversations and interactions with friends and family, I'm not trying to call anyone out. At least not anyone who is reading this. It's not my intent to suggest that when I reveal some quirk of mine that I am subtly/passive aggressively trying to clue you in that I think you're being rude or hurting my feelings or I'm comparing you to difficult friendships or situations in my past. So far, this blog has been very stream of conscious without my putting extra meaning behind it. I repeat myself (a lot) but I also ruminate and over analyze and connect mental dots from previous situations without meaning to cause unease for newer friends. My complaining about being used (aside from being partly my own damn fault) is not code for I think you're doing it too. My conversational issues with feeling ignored? Those came straight from endless one-on-one dinners with a friend who stares at her phone, takes calls and shows me messages she's answering while I'm trying to talk. Or driving a relative somewhere who interrupts a serious conversation I'm trying to have with them to discuss whether or not a check engine light is on and then anything else they can possibly think of when it isn't.

So, while I deeply appreciate those of you who read this blog and worry about being compared or judged or how I perceive you, you can relax. If I thought you were a jerk or ignoring me or were trying to use me, I wouldn't be around you. Everyone has their own personal baggage and I'm not trying to add to yours. Thanks though, for being decent human beings and caring. Now, as you were.

Or maybe not

And now, another topical incident:

I have been on the educator side of things. Teaching skills, appropriate behaviors, etc. So I have been on the side of prompting a child for an answer to test their knowledge only to have a well meaning parent jump in and answer.

Did you not see that I was setting the kid up to feel proud by answering something you didn't know they could?  Did you not realize you interrupted prime social interaction and reinforce the child to depend on you to answer a situation they can learn to handle? Ugh! I was never a jerk about it, politely telling the adult to give the kid a chance to show them what they'd learned.

And then today, I was that parent/guardian/responsible adult in charge/family member/general hbic.

OMG! The horror. No seriously, I caught the words coming out of my mouth in cinematic slow motion.

What the hell, woman?

Here's the best I've got, as I try to soothe the itch to face palm for days that invaded my brain as soon as the words were spoken. I spend so much time interpreting for my older folks who seem to only be able to hear me and no one else, and interpret the variable speed talking of my niblings to their grandparents, that my brain defaulted to intervene mode. Also? Brown-nosing-front-of-the-class-know-it-all reared her head. Oh oh, me, I know it, oh oh, my hand's raised, me me. Ugh. I am also reminded of being the family/caregiver to a patient receiving respiratory therapy. The tech laughed as I noticed myself breathing in, holding my breath and exhaling along with my loved one. "Everybody does," he chuckled, "even me after all these years. You just can't help it." And it's true. Ever held your breath with a character in a movie or a book? Years later I noticed other people breathing in time during doctor appointments, ER visits and respiratory assessments.

It doesn't matter that it isn't about you. And it doesn't matter if you're completely aware of your position as a spectator and not the participant. Sometimes you just can't help yourself. And sometimes you write about silly things to keep yourself sane while watching one of your least favorite kids' movies for the 700th time.

So long NaNo 2015

As NaNoWriMo comes to a close (crawling to it's dramatic death or skipping to the end in triumph), I'm struck by what changed in my writing & what hasn't changed in my writing beliefs.

1. Word Sprints: What a complete game changer. Total revelation. I saw mention of them on the NaNo site before, heard others mention them. And I poo-poo'd the very idea. Timed writing? Huh-ell no. I caved, under extreme protest, and tried it one night. Holy shitballs! Several hundred words done in 10 minutes. I'm talking exceeding my daily word count in a little more than half an hour on good days, just under an hour on slow ones. Without word sprints? A few hundred words over the course of who knows how long. I'm a believer & I tell everyone like I was healed at a revival. Because it's that freaking amazing. Productivity on steroids, y'all.

2. Summarizing: *shudders* I have always hated trying to sum up (or create a back cover blurb) what I'm working on. If I could explain it in a paragraph, I wouldn't be writing a 350 page novel. I mean, come on! But you have to. For queries, to entice agents, publishers, prospective readers. You've got to get this figured out. And I hadn't. And then during a writerly conversation (aka, a bitching session) somebody pointed out I didn't have one on the NaNo website for my novel. I made my case, whining like a preteen asked to pick up an empty cup they just used (I have company, can you tell?). I complained that the summaries made me feel like I was writing a corny movie intro, complete with the movie preview guy's voice in my head. A melodramatic representation of the book. My friend asked what was wrong with that, but my mind was off and running. Maybe I had to go ahead and be uncomfortable and feel like I was making a fool of myself to get a horrible decent blurb I'd be happier with. So I turned up the drama, heard the movie preview guy in my head and wrote the first halfway decent summary I'd ever done. So that's my new trick personal writing parlor trick.

3. Moving on when I'm stuck: I have always marveled at people who don't write their novels in a linear way. They bounce from scene to scene and then go back and knit things together later. It's like freaking magic. I have bullishly stuck to the linear way of starting at the beginning (hating it) and slogging through to the bitter end. Then I go back and rework what I didn't like (hopefully finding inspiration to fix it) and call it a day. This year I tried something else. Yes, I stuck to linear to an extent, but when I wasn't making any headway, I made a few notes about what I wanted from the scene and moved on to what came next. If a scene was running long, I'd let it go on and see what came out of it. Yeah I'll end up cutting it later, but I got some really cool character development that way and discovered some new directions I would have missed otherwise.

4. Embrace the community and they really will embrace you back: Brace yourself - I'm shy. Even on social media, I don't understand this whole friending people you don't know or barely know. Before NaNo I had a total of maybe 3 tweets, and maybe 5 more things I retweeted. Come NaNo, I used a topically relevant NaNoWriMo hashtag (Feel free to groan, I am. Anybody seen my cane or slippers?) and had a sudden influx of followers who weren't trying to sell me something. More than that? Every writing related tweet I made (all, like, 4 of them) people liked. Hearted. Favorited. Licked. Whatever. It was weird, it was trippy, but it was kind of neat most of all.

5. Ambient Sounds: One of the cool things that's come of hanging out with other writers and sharing stuff has come by way of background music/sounds. I don't think I know a single author who writes to silence, at least none that admit it. It's one of the first things that comes up in that getting-to-know-you stage: "What do you listen to when you write?" There's even a box for that for each user on the NaNoWriMo site. Some people can't listen to songs with words or the words impact their scenes. Some only listen to movie scores. Some only listen to Buddy Holly on a full moon. (It's possible.) The point is, this is an area of sincere interest for a lot of us writer types. The perfect mix to keep us inspired, on task and motivated without adding one more freaking distraction. This year I have had great success on this seemingly endless writing journey listening to ambient backgrounds on a seamless loop. There are websites with near endless variety of sounds, from fireplaces crackling to monster's screams to the gentle lull of waves against pebbles. Wonderful, fantastic people arrange these (you can too, but did I mention the deadline I have this month?) to form environmental backgrounds: a ship sailing on the high seas, a damp dungeon, a spring rain in the meadow, a Turkish or Parisian cafe, an Irish Pub, or the common room of your choice inspired by a certain magical boarding school. It totally rocks. Are your characters on a quest and find themselves in a tavern on a rainy night? There's an atmosphere (or 12) for that.

6. Quit looking for the perfect time/perfect book on writing and just write: This is one I've been a firm believer on for a long time. What makes anyone who writes a book on how to write an expert? I know people who write writing advice columns who have never had a book published. And aspiring authors beg for more. I'm not saying there's not good advice out there, but if your bookshelves only have books about writing and you've never finished a manuscript yet, sit down and just write. That's the advice I see from published authors I read. Write. Daily if possible. Agonize and edit after it's written. Just write. I'll admit to a few "How to" write books in my collection, but:

• I've never read one cover to cover
• They are genre specific because I wanted tips on how to handle certain situations
• I inherited at least 1 or 2 of the 3 or 4 books I have.

I don't think anything negative about those of you who pour over the how to books, please understand. I just think you're taking what worked (in theory) for a particular author and expecting it to be a magic wand. Time + experience = luck. You can fix crappy writing, weak characters or scenes that don't work. You can't do anything about something you haven't written.

B. 50,000 words in 30 days doesn't equal the novel of your dreams (though it does help): Okay, so as much as I have a love to hate relationship with NaNoWriMo, I need to be honest. The main goal as you hang on for dear life during November is to hit 50,000 words. Like high school and college essays and term papers, you will find yourself doing whatever you have to to pad that word count. Contractions no longer exist. You know exactly what I'm talking about. As much as you're crafting your story, at this point you're just trying to hit that 50,000 words so you can breathe again. And in a way, that's good. Because in that frantic rush, it's easier to turn off your inner editor that s-l-o-w-s you down otherwise. But I know as I write I'm going to have to go back and fix so much later. And personally, I find that frustrating. But doing NaNo gives me a big chunk of the writing process for my idea done. It gives me something to mold later instead of staring at 300 words on a screen and wondering if this should go anywhere.

Zed. Deadlines help some of us get more shit done and increase our other obligations exponentially at the same time - Murphy's law of writers: So as I prepared myself for the home stretch (What a shock, I'm behind with only a few days to go.) my household was on board with helping me make it. My hubby went with me to the store to stock up on caffeine, quick lunches and snacks for myself to grab and get back to work with. He pushed me to get out of the house and write the last weekend so I would have fewer distractions. My parents asked how much time I had left & how many words I had to go, making dinner with the turkey day leftovers one night and heating up frozen pizza another. My visiting nibling curled up in the arm chair in my office and played video games and set up my Christmas tree for me. Great people, right? And they are. They are also all exponentially needy the last two days. WTF?! My husband, with his support? Messaged me all day long. Cute pics, Christmas shopping ideas, etc. He'd come give me a hug or check on me. At one point I had 3 people in my office and my mother was having a mini episode. My husband, bless him, even asked me at one point today why I wasn't further along with my word count. I think you get the idea that my word count was not what I was hoping for at the end of the day. Which is okay, if a little stressful. Because secretly, I love running up along deadlines. It's my version of being an adrenaline junkie. Once the people in my house started going to bed one by one, my productivity went up. I was interrupted, but once an hour or two instead of every 8 minutes.

Whew! In the end though, I made it. And I have a few new tools in my writing arsenal. It doesn't have to be smooth sailing to be worthwhile. Also, word sprints!!!

So if you'll excuse me, I need to pull out my 2015 NaNoWriMo winner shirt and strut around my house. Until I spill something on it. I give it 4 hours, tops.

Post turkey musing

Kindness, sprinkle it on everything. It costs nothing to be kind.  And yet, here I am.

Now I firmly believe in spreading kindness, letting your own light shine, etc, blah blah, so on and so forth. I was raised by someone who doesn't like attention but does like to help people. My dad is the kind of guy who would give the shirt off his back to help someone but mouth off as a distraction so you wouldn't notice. So as I transition into being a bit more vocal about the good things in life I'm experiencing some mild to moderate discomfort at drawing attention to myself.

Yesterday I took the time to write not only a blog post on here but also a seasonal post on social media about being thankful. It's the first time I've mentioned the changes I've been making in my life to extended family & friends - so if you read these blog posts (bless you) and you're doing so because you know me, you are in a select group of a few people in my life I trust to read these meanderings. The rest of you, you're creeping me out (but bless you, too - can I get you something to drink?).

I was careful in my gratitudes because part of growth tends to be outgrowing some people and that can be tricky. Or for my purposes, out growing being used. Out growing being forced to continually prove my friendship because putting my life on hold repeatedly to help each and every time this person hit bottom and everything in between isn't enough to show I care. It's embarrassing to admit how far I let myself be used, because make no mistake, I was a party to it. I participated in allowing myself be treated this way because a shitty, thoughtless friend who used to be kind of nice was better than no one at all. Until it wasn't. 

There was no break up scene, no litany of the ways I felt hurt. I dealt with my own stuff and just took a solid step backwards. And then in time, another. And then, a few more. And each time my guilt got the better of me, each time I wanted to give one more benefit of the doubt to this person, he or she would do something so ridiculous it reminded me to stay the hell away. Social media would light up periodically with blatant cries for attention he or she was not getting. From me. A half dozen sycophants jumped up to swear their fealty, crawling over each other to prove their commitment to this person was stronger than the others. Do they know he or she talks about how worthless they all are when they aren't around? 

No thanks.

As I mentioned before, I wanted to be careful in what I said in my list of things I'm thankful for. I'm still not exactly over the bitchy part of a once close friendship ending. I'll admit it. Because as some of you may not know, friendships can break up with as much style and and as many fireworks as a messy divorce.  I didn't want to let fly a snippy, passive aggressive comment and set off  e.p.i.c.d.r.a.m.a.2.0.1.5.  My inner editor took great care here and in the end I only needed to take out one or two lines to make sure I stuck with gratitude and not negativity. It was all about gratitude, all about taking a personal journey and being positive.

And my holiday ode to positivity, new beginnings, weathering turbulence of the past year and the journey to find my bliss? I got some very lovely comments from people. Also? A passive aggressive diatribe about faithless friends and this person having his or her own personal journey. If you read my previous post about people projecting their baggage, this is a fun twist on projection. A person who is angry and probably not winning an argument (usually one they start) takes your words, twists them around and lobs them back at you. In my experience, laughing to their face or pointing out what they're doing doesn't help. It IS the point in a spirited exchange to consider stepping back because irrationality is fueling their fire. Even if the 'exchange' is one sided and on social media. 

It's not entirely true that it costs nothing to be kind. There are cases of extreme tongue biting in the quest for peace, potentially to the point of needing medical attention. BUT, I will feel better working on spreading kindness and saving biting retorts for the characters in my novels. I will continue to work at being the change I'd like to see in the world. Being nice is different than being a doormat, and not being a doormat is different than being a jerk. So for everyone of you doing your best and trying to be kind, keep up the good work. 

My last thought: Thanksgiving coincided with a full moon. If you survived another holiday with crazy family, drunk friends or whatever your particular situation was, you get an extra gold star this year. Do something nice for yourself. Soak in the tub with a good book. Sip a mug of peppermint hot chocolate or a gingerbread latte. Chat with a friend who makes you feel heard. Bake a batch of cookies. Treat yourself to a pedicure. Snuggle a puppy and rub his or her little warm belly. Go see a movie. Color. Go try something on your bucket list. Hell, if you have the resources, take a mini-vacation. Failing all else, go have that extra slice of pie you were eyeing earlier. You can have a salad or a lettuce wrap for lunch tomorrow. 

I'm struggling this week. Productivity is plummeting while demands are jockeying for attention. And that's okay. Really. Ebb and flow, give and take. And I freely admit to being a bit frazzled, a lot spacey and overwhelmingly exhausted. So basically your garden variety pre-holiday stress, hold the gravy. This is the last week of NaNoWriMo, and it's not even a blip on my radar. 

So as I drift along the word count abyss, I've been feeling the need to come up with a new blog post. To keep me writing. To give me something different to write about. To keep up with my blog. To keep me from chugging a bottle of tequila while I prep for Thanksgiving. I've had several ideas come to mind with fantastically witty observations or funny anecdotes. Of course, none of these stuck around long enough for me to write them down. At a loss and losing my grip on conscious thought, I latched onto something that came up (again) in conversation tonight.

I am, based on extensive experience, apparently a difficult person to read. 

And, people who try to read anything into my actions are generally (ahem) wrong. I find this fascinating, because I like to think of myself as fairly straight forward and pretty good at reading other people. But people apply their own 'baggage' to their communications and interactions. So if I say, "Okay, let's do that." I don't mean "I'd rather set my face on fire." I am capable of politely bowing out of something I'd rather not do instead of following along like a lemming. 

Point of fact, if I do turn something down it doesn't mean I never want to see that person again. (Because then I'd make mention of that pesky face on fire appointment on my schedule.) It does mean I'm either legitimately busy, I have so little interest in the activity that it's actually sucking the life from me just to think about it, or that I'm so tired or sick that I can barely pick my foot up off the floor. It's not a reflection on how I feel about the asker as a person - unless you're a douchebag wanker, but for the sake of argument let's assume that's not the case. 

Also, one 10 second introduction does not make you an expert in what makes me tick. Someone I am related to by marriage tried to cozy up to me very quickly and prove to me that we could be buddies, which depending on the length a person goes to can be a red flag. Every funny little 'in' joke this person tried to create involved what an obnoxiously opinionated, aggressively angry, catty bitch I was - said the person who made snide comments about the kind of clothes I wore, make-up, etc. See? Baggage. Also, pre-existing crazy, so the red flag was totally warranted. It's funny what people tell you about yourself who don't give you a word edgewise into a single conversation you have with them. 

And just so we're all on the same page (Warning, book may vary.), I have my own baggage I bring to the conversational landscape. I struggle to feel understood, to feel heard. I repeat myself. A lot. If you look away repeatedly, I'm going to assume you're not interested. If you want me to keep talking, I don't recommend a blank stare. "Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, oh, uh huh" does not a conversation make. So if your baggage tells you that me repeating something means something, and my baggage makes me repeat unimportant details I think I might have not been clear about or want to make sure you know that I'm not worried about, we're not going to get very far.

What do you really know about anyone and do the opinions you hold about them reflect more about you than the other person? I'm sure it's variable based on your own insecurities, personal experience and more, as in how much of someone else can you take in once you've filtered them through your own bias. 

I'm pretty sure this didn't amount to what I thought it might when I started thinking about it earlier. But, I wrote. I took a break from the holiday chaos. And for me personally, I took the chance to explore for just a few minutes my need to be understood. And how amazing it is to me that I am so often misunderstood anyway. 

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!