What Next

The term "What Next" is repeated several times in my WIP as the main character tries to figure out how to move forward from an unexpected tragedy.

What Next?

My head is spinning trying to figure that out.

What Next? What Next. What the f*ck next.

When things get muddled, I write to straighten out my thoughts... but today this page is daunting.

Most of all, I feel sad.

This man stands for hate and fear and Us against Them. He is a bully. He is ignorant. He is reckless.

And by being voted in, he has been told that all of the hate and anger and fear and blame that he has spewed over the past two years - towards women, muslims, LGBTQ, Hispanics, immigrants, ... - is okay. Okay. Acceptable. Fair. Right?

And to think there are that many people out there who support that message? Sad.

N

Dreary

I'm feeling a bit lost, literarily... and impressed that the spell check did not pick up 'literarily' which means it's a real word, not one I invented.

My WIP is at the editor. I've been tossing ideas for the next story around in my head, but none of them have stuck. I'd like to write an urban fantasy, I think, nothing too out there but a story that makes you think maybe it's possible... but I haven't figured out what it's about yet. 

Geez, even my blog updates are

I wonder if this worry of never again having inspiration will ever go away? How many books does it take to build confidence that there are more books to write?

N

Bookends

February first was my last post and here we are at the end of February... Not good blog consistency!

I'm sitting at my desk on a rare Wednesday. It's not a snow day, I just had a slow morning at my day job and decided to stay home a little later and get some writing done instead.

Book launch is in four days!!! I've got the books, I've got my list if preorders, I'm compiling the door prize in my head, I've got the cake ordered and the library space booked - all I need is the peeps. Time slips by so fast, it's hard to believe the launch is almost here when it seemed so far away at one point.

I've fallen into rambling... Off to do some real writing.

N

Mindset

Saturday night I play hockey.

And by "play hockey" I mean I put on thirty seven pounds of bubble wrap and skates and spend an hour trying to stay vertical. Luckily I'm not totally out of my league out there - it's a shinny game with other 'hockey moms' who want to try to play too. There are several lessons to be learned from the game. The first is I have no business yelling from the stands to tell my 11 and 10 year old hockey stars how to play the game. Geez it's harder than it looks and they're amazing at it.

The lesson I learned on Saturday was a harder one to swallow. When I was in high school I played competitive sports; basketball and baseball mostly. It fit my competitive spirit, b/c everything is more fun if there's a winner and a loser. When we went to China to adopt our daughter my bestie and I declared a Utensil Challenge. I won. You do not want to attend a baby or wedding shower with me.

So what happens when I find myself on the ice?

I have to talk to myself down. Literally. I have to change the script in my head. The voice that is telling me 'go faster', 'get that' and then 'why can't you...' The same voice berated me for taking a break 'so often'. The voice isn't very nice.

I had to rethink everything. What was the point of being there? To have fun, to do some exercise. Neither of those goals required me to be the best on the ice and who cares if I sat twice before some other skater sat at all? What did it matter if someone else had better wind? Perhaps their feet didn't feel like they were walking on swords instead of gliding on ice.

There's nothing wrong with being competitive... my competitive drive has pushed me to accomplish many goals and won many jars of gummy bears. But I'm starting to figure out the whole concept of "time and place" and trying to be more gentle and forgiving with myself when I'm not quite up to snuff.

Now if I could let that wisdom trickle into other parts of my existence...

N

Wow...

... Where did December go?

I love Christmas. I love the lead up, the day, the relaxing days afterwards. The days with no where to go, no where to be. TV and pjs and snacking all day. Phone calls and visits and reading and sleeping in... what's not to love?

From my Nuthouse to yours, Happy Holidays, whatever you celebrate enjoy — be kind to yourself, love others and breathe.

N

Running out of Gas

This morning started later than most as it was Steve's morning to get the kids to school almost-on-time. I got up and walked the Devil's Spawn of a dog, then walked the girls to the bus stop, then drove them to school because we missed the bus (at both bus stops). I raced home to do a couple tasks and run an errand before meeting at the school to discuss bullying and how not to let my kid bully others. Great convo. Seriously. Then I ran home to pick up some necessities before my next meeting and realized i didn't have my wallet. A call to the office determined it was there, that's fine, a stop on my way to my 11 meeting is doable if I leave now. Race off again, to the office, grab the wallet, back on the road to my meeting, through traffic and up onto the highway and then... the car died. Died. On the highway.

I'd known I was pushing it, had squeezed the fill-up in either just before or just after my 11 meeting that was at a Starbucks beside a gas station. The extra stop for the wallet wasn't that big a difference right? Wrong. Who knows if I'd have made it without the roundabout route.

And as I sat on the highway watching traffic fly past me (and conducting a work meeting by phone since, hell, what else was there to do), I realized it was kind of poetic in a nasty way - I tried to jam one too many things into my morning and the means of my travel cut out. kaput.

I've been feeling like that a lot lately.

N

Something cute...

I didn't get to this today... between blood donation to the CBS and to my editing I'm out of time!

I'll leave you with these cute laughs:

N

Art and Soul

I went with my movie going partner last night to see Woman in Gold. To be honest, it wasn't a great week to go to the movies... there weren't many we were interested in seeing let alone any we had noticed that we wanted to see. Isn't that the way? The weeks we can't get to the movies, there are so many we want to see, and when we finally get out there aren't many we were interested in watching... So we were pleasantly surprised by this show, though we shouldn't have been seeing as it stars Helen Mirren.

It is a true story about a woman living in California who sues the Austrian government to recover a painting of her aunt that had been stolen by the Nazis. It was the type of movie that made me think, and want to read more about the movie and the history of that time.

It's an understatement to say the Nazis stole so very much from the people they persecuted. So why do a few paintings matter? In the end a painting is just a thing, right?

Except it's not.

I've said before that creativity is driven from something deeper than paint brushes and fingers and fine motor skills. I honestly think art is driven from that something that some people call a soul, others call it a heart, psyche or spirit. And because it's driven from that source, that's where it impacts people who experience it. A piece of art that is loved becomes more than canvas and paint or a block of clay. It's a piece of spirit that is shaped from a spectral quality to a tangible, solid artifact.

And when that's stolen, a piece of the person who loves it is stolen as well.

So it's no wonder that more than half a century later the families are still searching and pleading for restoration of their artwork. You can't bring back the lives and families that were desecrated, but you can reclaim the pieces of of their souls scattered throughout museums and attics.

N

Rainy Friday

It is rainy, which is a really great thing! So great. Because it's washing away the miserable heaps of snow.

But usually 'rainy' is more of a sad description.... Rainy, solemn, grave, humourless... A rainy day inside and out.

I had some realjob tasks to do this morning and got home with a couple of hours to write before the running around with the kids started. I was excited to have the time, anxious to figure out which project to work on, until I got home. My work desk was piled high with ... stuff ... and I couldn't build the oomph to move it to make space to work. No biggie, I thought, I'll sit on the bed. Bad idea. Within a few minutes I'd slouched from sitting against the wall at the head of the bed to lying down curled up under my warm blankets. And next come the zzz's (though I don't snore).

Just didn't have it.

My creative side is absolutely bound to my psyche in a frighteningly cyclical manner. If I'm low, it's hard to write but writing helps me from getting low. It's been a long week... I mean, a power outage and internet interruption during Gilmore Girls nearly drove me to tears of frustration last night - no wonder I had to spend some time in my fetal cocoon this afternoon.

N

Pages vs Film

"The book is always better."

True? False?

My knee jerk answer is "True". Always. But I don't think it's that simple.

I've read a few books where the story is awesome but the writing itself is mediocre and cumbersome. The movies take the writing out of the equation and (if it's a well done film) all that's left is the story that was great to begin with. Those movies are better than the books.

Last night some friends and I went to see American Sniper - me mostly because Bradley Cooper is in it. It's based on the autobiography by Chris Kyle. The movie was intense and very violent. The theme was dark and the depicted evil was frightening. The movie was enough - there's no way I could read the book.

There's a difference between watching and reading. Watching a movie is temporary, short term and limited. Reading gets inside my head. It's intimate and consuming. So book characters get in my head and mess around a bit and when the characters leave they leave a bit of themselves behind. That's the power of books to change people and impact lives... I don't want a story like that sticking in there.

So sometimes movies are better than books.

N

Paper Sanctuary

Last week SUCKED.

I'll spare you the narrative and write you a list:

- Snow-filled travel through three provinces for a hockey tournament
- Super surprise brake failure including 1hr tow and $800 mechanic bill
- Schedule uncertainty due to pending weather bomb
- Disappointed chicks with sticks due to shortened stay away
- Snow-filled travel back through three provinces
- Weather bomb
- Cancelled, rebooked, delayed (after we got to the airport through weather bombed roads), rebooked, delayed, rebooked, cancelled flights to get my heart set twelve year old out to BC to participate in the Canada Games he's worked hard for for three years.
- Heartbroken 12 year old
- New authorly job posting
- Unsuccessful and frantic errands
- Evil rotten 10 year old
- Regular hockey schedule
- Sick day (probably due to all of the above imploding in my head).

Stress. Capital S. Capitol? Big S.

When I was waiting for a friend to save me from the mechanic shop and deliver me back to my abandoned chicks with sticks I was on the brink of manic laughter or hysterical tears... I wasn't sure which I just knew it wasn't going to be pretty... Then I remembered there was a bookstore a few blocks away. So I texted her to meet me there instead and hiked over (I call it hiked b/c of the snow drifts). It was just a regular big-box-store bookstore, but when I walked between the books my stress level lowered, my shoulders relaxed, my breathing slowed... nothing was solved, nothing was better but I felt better just being there.

What is it about the presence of books that makes everything a little bit easier? Safer? Better? Anyone else feel that way too?

N

Lost

I had my blog post already composed in my head... then the ending changed.

Yesterday when I was towelling off from my shower my necklace caught on the towel and opened so that the pendant slipped off. When I noticed it the necklace was open and the pendant was gone.

I was given the pendant by my parents several Christmases ago. They had it adapted at the jeweller to replace four of the diamonds in the design for my kids' birthstones - two blues, a green and a purple. I've worn it pretty much every day since, never really taking it off.

And just like that it was gone.

I knew it was in the bedroom or bathroom but I'm not all that tidy of a person. My husband and I have a unique filing system, the piles of clothes and stuff get kind of out of control...

I couldn't take much time to look for the charm when it went missing - it was nearly 6:00 am and I had to race two chicklets out the door for hockey practice. I thought about it all day and when I finally had some time at 8:30 last night I went through every pile in the path I supposed it might be, shaking each piece of clothing out listening intently for a ping of the charm falling on the laminate floor. Nothing. I put away my ginormous collection of hoodies. I even found my missing car keys in the process... but not what I was searching for.

There's something about missing a thing that has become a part of you. A thing that you don't really even think of much until it's gone, and its absence becomes bigger and more pressing than it's quiet presence had been. After I'd shaken out and 'refiled' the last of the piles I didn't know where to look next. Steve assured me "it's here somewhere, it'll show up" but that didn't help much. Or at all. Without any further place to look, I got ready for bed. As I changed, the pendant fell out of the clothes I was wearing, the clothes I'd worn all day.

Even as I'd looked, it had been there with me hidden and safe. So you can draw your own hokey conclusions to this story - "you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone" or "what you're searching for is nearer to you than you can imagine" or "you'll find something once you stop searching"... Me? I'm getting a stronger necklace.

N

Reincarnation

I suspect in a past life, I was a bear.

I put flannel sheets on the bed Sunday night, and all week I've pined away for the soft, warm cocoon that happens when I curl up under the covers and tuck them in around my shoulders.... sigh.

When I get overwhelmed I shut down like that... I want to hide. If the kitchen is a mess, instead of digging in and getting it cleaned up, I leave the room so I can't see it. If the world is caving in, demanding too much, stressing me out, I retreat and cover my head. It's not a helpful strategy, but sometimes it's exactly what I need.

Today though, I'm not stressed or overwhelmed - there's no immediate mess or eminent cave-ins... the bed is just so warm and cozy... maybe just a quick nap...

N

Twice a year reset

Seems like twice I year I need to dig my desk out from under the dump-it-here pile and dust off my intentions. I've been coasting lately... With two projects in the early stages of publication I've been nervous? reluctant? superstitious? to start anything new. And for the past month or so both projects were in other hands... soooo what do I do? I watch Netflix if the truth be told :)

Not today. The desk is clear of clutter and my chocolate stash is well organized. I'm going to do some mini-stuff, writing exercises, drawing, creative output with short term or no obligated deadlines so when the big stuff bounces back to me I'll be already running to catch it.

Oh and I'm drinking diet Coke again, blast it. I thought I could sneak a few in on vacation - especially with our loooong drive home - and quit when I got here, but I forgot about how miserable it is when it's cold and snowy and dark and how I typically get sick when I get back from vacay and how, if only momentarily, the neurotoxins in diet Coke make everything seem.... fine.

I might be crazy.

Oh and how distracting are kittens? Com'ON look at that face!

SQUIRREL!

N

Blank Page

I've stared at this blank page for a bit now, waiting for that lightning bolt of inspiration to hit me. Still hasn't and I'm starting to think my insistence on inspiration is more a cloaked procrastination tactic. So I should probably stop rambling and get to work.

N

Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving from Canada!

I'm at my desk today because deadlines don't have holidays! But I'm happy as a clam sitting here typing away. I'm taking a break between synopsis writing and story rewrites to post here.

It's hard to list what I'm thankful for without sounding trite or cliche. I mean the list is kinda the same isn't it? Good, healthy family and friends, food to eat, warm place to sleep, safe place to play and work and the right to individual thoughts, opinions, identity. Don't get me wrong, I know there are many people around the world without these basic things, even here in Halifax. But listing them at the dinner table becomes repetitive and the repetition kinda takes away from the effect, don't you think?

So yeah, I'm thankful for all of those things too, but here's my list of unique things:

... for colours and light in the fall.
... for my pup who loves me no matter what I do.
... for the time I have to peck at my computer and the ideas that come out.
... for chocolate, especially the kind that doesn't melt in my hands.
... for sticky notes that make me feel more organized and less frantic.
... for sports, especially hockey and basketball and baseball, that let me see my kids feeling passion.
... for books that let me be someone else for a bit.
... for social media that lets me talk to friends I'd lost touch with.
... for sentences that end in prepositions.
... for the 'f' word, because it's so versatile and sometimes it's the only word that works.
... for sparkly things.

:) Happy Thanksgiving, from this Proud Canuck.

N

Random Updates

WEllll, I had a very sweet Reese PB Cake for breakfast - a dessert I got when we were out last night that I didn't feel like eating last night. It was yummy but OMG so sweet so now my heart is racing and I feel flighty and confused... maybe that's not the cake's fault, though.

This weekend was a big one...

1. My ball team raced back from third place (of four) to play in the championship game at the tourney!!! I wasn't there for the final game though. We didn't win, but we made it close and that was good enough.



2. I had to leave ball b/c I was invited to the Word on the Street welcome gala! YES! An opportunity to mingle through a room full of people I don't know! I don't know about anyone else, but that is THIS writer's most feared monster... There is a reason why I'm most comfortable at my computer with my cat. It was so exciting to be invited though, and it's healthy to push oneself into uncomfortable situations, right? So I ditched my uniform hoodie, put on makeup and went. I accomplished the two goals I set for myself: 1. Talk to someone I don't know, 2. Don't puke on them. SO all in all it was a successful evening, with good food.

3. Word on the Street! How awesome was that? A whole street festival about reading and writing. There were tents with authors reading aloud, spoken word, book sales, pitch the publisher... I've said it before, there is something special that happens when literary folks (readers and writers) get together, some kind of glow or aura of energy that hovers over everybody. And I didn't puke when I did my readings either! Two for two!

4. Hockey started! Elliot's four ice times into his tryouts and doing well... As much as I try not to be, I'm a terrible hockey mom - not one of those crazies that yells at everyone from the stands, but one who gets terribly anxious and stressed out about tryouts. Since I had my ball tournament and WOTS, I only saw one of Elliot's practices, but I bugged other parents for regular texted updates.

So now I'm sitting trying to digest a month's worth of sugar and focus my brain long enough to figure out what's next. I have to WIPs in the infant stages, trying to decide which deserves my energies at this time, or better yet, which I have energy for. (Yes I know that's grammatically incorrect but remember the whole buzzing on sugar thing).

N

Bits and Parts

I've got a concept for a blog entry floating around in my head and I'm struggling to pin it down in a concise enough way to make it make sense...

Here are my last several FB profile pics:

 

And it got me wondering... how could a layman like me psycho analyze what my choice in photographic representation might mean about me. Does it mean anything?

I am the picture taker. I'm always behind the camera. I have crafty ninja skills when it comes to ducking behind things and avoiding cameras pointed at me... as if they were sniper guns. I hate having my picture taken. I hate looking at pictures of me. So these pictures are a compromise... here, you can see PART of me.

How does that pertain to writing? Since I'm the one doing the writing, arguably I can let the parts of me I want in there slip by and hide the parts I don't, right? But how honest does that make the writing itself? And does writing that allows a fuller version of myself ring more true? The WIP I am struggling with carries some very dark experiences... not my own non fiction, but built from some of those deep dark emotions that drowned Atreyu's horse. Could it be that the struggle I'm having is rooted in the fact that that's a less attractive part, that I'd really not like it exposed?

N

Told you so...

I warned you it's impossible to get anything literary done in the summer. Laundry too. I did manage to poke out some words at work this week when my clients were on vacation or no-showing. And I took my 'puter to PJ's soccer this afternoon and got a few more words added.

I saw this on FB and thought it was really neat, so I thought I'd share. (is it bad for my rep as a YA author to say 'it's really neat'?) It's phat. It's totes awesome. (yeah, that's probably worse, eh?). Anyways, check it out have a look:

Please appreciate that the picture is by itself. The banner said something in the first person about finding it useful as a writer, which was too dishonest for me - I haven't used it yet I just think it's 'neat'. And I'd like to colour-code it.

N

PS you might be able to tell that my thoughts are a little bit rambly over here... That doesn't help.

SHHHhhhh

Snuck some writing into my day job!

Don't tell the boss.

N