Another Modest Word Count

So today, I worked on the Dreampunk story again. In case, you're not sure of what I mean, it's the YA (young adult) fantasy novel featuring two girls, Miria and Vivienne, from Louisiana that discover they have the power to travel into pockets between our world and another, or the Real and Surreal, gathering artifacts and closing the rifts that are rather dangerous to other humans.

I've put a modest, maybe, 1000-1500 words in this morning, but I've made it a personal goal to just write towards my projects for at least a half hour a day. Not counting research, that is, so I actually spend at least an hour on the back and forth, since I've never actually been to the places where I'm setting up their journey in the real world. Traveling through the eyes of the internet so I may have to do quite a bit of changing in the editing process.

The working title of the Dreampunk Chronicles is actually Through the Golden Doors, which points to the start of their adventure. The scene I start with is based on a dream I had, where they are quite familiar with their gifts, so after that, I travel back to a time before they are acquainted with them and initiate the reader into their first awkward trip to the Surreal. The vocabulary is still advanced, but I think that at least Middle Grade readers would be able to field this one. I'm not filling it with gratuitous swearing or dark themes as I did in my first series, so it definitely won't be filed as Adult. I really wanted to write something my nephews could pick up without any embarrassment for the content. When I write for adults, I simply assume they understand sex and violence, whether they're comfortable with it or not.

So there's that, but since my goal is to both take care of my creative AND physical self, I'm also dedicating time to exercise and watching my diet. I gained back about 30 pounds this year that I'd like to melt away again. I simply felt better without it, so it's not totally a vanity play. Looking better does make one feel better though so let's not pretend it's not nicer to look better as well. If I had the discipline, I'd go for being muscular, because damn, can I build some impressive muscle, but it's also an obsession that too often distracts me from the creative. My journey's goals are about balance though, so we'll take smaller steps for the time being.

In any case, it's time for me to wander off to the next action. A little exercise, then I might hop back into writing. Or figuring out where in the hell I can actually put my new airbrush set. I didn't think this one through. I need a craft room... Can I get a few thousand bucks to build an extension on this house? No? Looks like I'll have to make do.

Don't mind my goofy ass. Just... do you too and we'll make it work. Peace, darlings!

How Bouts a Picture?

I tried to build a brand to trend, but it's about as stale as... well, month-old bread. I decided instead to focus on a business card that reflects what I actually like to do.

I write in my own style. I draw in my own style.

So why should I brand any other way?

I've been working on this one as a possible business card design. There may be quite a bit of fidgeting with fonts and image placement to come, but I rather like her for it.

I have a bit of fussing to do with it yet, but she embodies my work both as an artist and my interest in sci-fi infused fantasy themes. And let's face it, I tend to enjoy drawing women more. I don't hate drawing men at all--there's just that easy connection being in a female body myself. I might spit on enforcing any sort of gender roles, but I'm not in denial that I'm a female. (Also adding that men and women do tend to be better suited or more interested in certain roles and jobs, but anyone who has competitive skill levels NOT common to gendered stereotypes should kick some ass doing it.)

It's not the artist's job to be safe. If you want to work with a passionate artist, they're likely to drive you nuts from time to time. If you want to work with a safe artist, they're not likely to stand out for their clients or their customers. Because of that, I did a disservice to myself before by toeing the line. Every time I've followed my gut, I've found my best clientele, fans, and even better, friends.

I've taken an odd assortment of jobs, but rather than going the true temp worker route, I've found freedom in choice and risk. However, I am not that picky nor prone to danger. I do believe in humbling myself into choices I'm both not thrilled about yet still connecting to my goals. I've shed the bullshit tacts that baby-boomers swore by and adapted to the challenges that plague my own generation.

And now I look forward to MY future. The one where I stop listening to safe and keep listening to my instinct. Where I am accountable to my own choices and feel the full brunt of my mistakes, turning them into priceless lessons to push ahead.

Oh, and as my last blog post said, XP-Pen Artist 12 digital display tablet review ahead so stay tuned!

A Quickie Update!

Still working on the drafted drawing from the last post, but I'm down to fiddling the hair, shading and color work. 

Busy weekend/week ahead. I celebrate Cinco de Mayo with my friends, an annual get-together I aim to never miss. I bake my grandma's M&M cookies for it so I'll be up early to get that done.

Tuesday, doctor appointment. Absolutely love my new doctor, so I look forward to these. She's really helped point me in the right direction. Wednesday, bridal shower. My niece Melody is marrying a guy she loves on May 24, so I'm happy for her. Also baking cookies for the shower. Thursday, waitressing. Friday, the Spirit Walk for the boys' school.

So Monday might seem empty but after an hour long talk with Joe yesterday, I'm going to organize pictures he can use on the website he's building me and he's on it for a solid marketing plan as well. It's a great exchange going on--in return, I'm going to design some elements for fantasy layout sites and also consult with his friend to do some custom work for that site as well. He is certain my work would really boost interest so I'm also eager to give it a shot.

Once the school year winds down, I'm confident the more relaxed schedule will allow for more focused work. Since I just mentioned those details of what I hope to work on in the last one, I won't belabor that here, just reiterate that I'm eager to get going there as well.

Oh, I did mention ComicCon before, but I'm holding off on this year. I prioritized buying new equipment so I still need to purchase displays, print banners and business cards and bookmarks, whatever else I researched material-wise and rather than try to crunch that in last minute, I'll just gradually continue to gather that together as the money allows. I would also like to focus on the website, marketing, and broadening my body of work a bit more. I might still attend as a guest, since I usually go with my nephew Thomas each year, and it continues to be good research for ideas on when I do set up my own.

Yes, this is my idea of a quick update, but there were a lot of bases to cover and it's still brief, considering.

I'll most likely sneak back over here to throw up the finished image I'm working on. I'd like to use it in some form on both my business cards and my site but that may change. I may just use it on one or the other and make a similarly themed one to use on the other. I usually get a feel for these things once I've played with the finished image a bit.

Let's get through this week for now and see where things land!

Idle Days of Reflection

It's easy to assume that my days are pretty normal and uneventful. Despite the fact that removing more comfort zones from my everyday life has given me more recent material to color in my creative life. Friday, I wallowed in bed, rueing the natural cycle of womanhood and avoiding any emotional triggers that I know I'd naturally overreact to.

Yesterday, I worked a shift at King's Island. I laid low most of the day, putting together plates of chicken tenders and French fries, a shy smile when people thanked me. They said I could yell back when I was running low, but I always went back to them and politely asked them to make more. Towards the end of the night, some asshole decided to get a hair up his ass about the French fries. It went something like this: he said they were raw, I shrugged and honestly told him they were cooked the same way all night, he mumbled that I was a jerk, I felt myself smirk like I usually do when I'm irritated, this pissed him off enough to assert that he knows what a cooked French fry looked like, I bit back a mental remark on that not exactly being a skill no one else had but instead said I believed him, he mocked me--I shit you not, he actually did that little kid thing where you change your voice and poorly pronounce what the other person said--I looked at my sister, who told me to just stop talking to him, I took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline and went back to tell the chef to handle him, I went out back and smoked a cigarette until the guy left. Now, I could have put this story as separate sentences, but the whole situation was one idiotic run-on sentence. Guy tried to ruin my day, was really just an entitled redneck who didn't succeed. What assured it never got worse was that the chef very calmly told me that I don't have to deal with that at all and could defer to one of the regular employees. Even though the guy tried to say I refused to cater to him, these people I had only worked with a few hours knew that was bullshit and each of them even took the time to tell me they didn't believe him, that they saw I was very courteous, and he was just an asshole. He was yet another shithead that thinks himself better than a service worker because he's on the other side of the counter. And yes, while these people will pretend you're right, each and every one of them is talking about what a shitty human being you are when you leave.

I made some money to go towards my next creative purchase and went home glad to curl up in bed to watch Avengers Infinity War.

Because, yes, today I went and saw Avengers Endgame. Don't worry; no spoilers here. It's a long movie and not my favorite of the Marvel ones, but still has the Marvel Charm throughout. I still enjoyed the time I got to spend with my family and getting to see a movie in a theatre. It's a rare treat that I enjoy more because it's rare.

Still recovering from working yesterday, and I mean this in the purely physical sense. Nine hours on my feet, very little moving around, which only makes me appreciate my three hour waitressing shifts all the more. I don't like to sit or stand very long. I can handle lying down or walking, but since lying down has very little appealing job possibilities, I prefer the walking jobs. I can lie down while I crochet but obviously, the only posture good for writing or drawing for hours involves proper sitting with regular small breaks--if you don't want to end up crippled over time, that is. If carpal tunnel, eye strain, back problems and strain injuries are your cup of tea (if you're just young enough to arrogantly assert that you work in the dark, hunched over, for three days straight and survive off of energy drinks and ramen--enjoy your future health problems, by the way), then by all means, keep telling yourself that bad work habits don't pile up. In fact, lamenting the abuse when you're older will also make you less shitty of a writer so there's still a trade-off.

Don't worry, young'uns, I'm not hating on you--just relating exactly the sort of disgruntled shit older people warned me about and were annoyingly right about. But we all learn the hard way because it's one of those stupid human tricks that we lather, rinse, repeat until we're either wise or one of those sad old dipshits that refuses growth or wearing clothes that actually fit.

I never set out with a point here, but idle days need idle tasks. In this case, a bit of reflection is well enough to feel like an accomplishment. I like this phase of my life. In retrospect, each of them is worthwhile, but in the spirit of living in the moment, this one feels like it fits me best. I pick my battles better. I put my head and heart in better places. My struggles aren't overwhelming me because I give enough of myself that people do know how to help me. I do have some things I'm working out, but I can't imagine a day so ideal that it wouldn't paralyze me in shock. I will always need a challenge to keep me in motion. It's just with hope that I aim to keep them manageable.

Because there is no universal force that only gives us what we can handle. Sometimes we have to pick the right time to fight or flee and forgive ourselves when the response we chose was probably not the best one. What wasn't our best is just a lesson. Although, I might add, that you don't get to forgive yourself the pain you cause others. If you're an asshole, apologize. Whether it's five minutes or five years after the fact, whether they deserve it or not, you don't get to gloat on your failures and absolve yourself. It just makes you likely to repeat the same dumb mistakes because you never properly humbled yourself to the consequences. 

And for fuck's sake, stop posting that shit on social media. Some people leave a trail of their shitty toilet paper crumbs in public spaces and wonder why no one respects them. That. Seriously, if you treat public spaces like a job interview and save the asinine garbage for the angry tear-stained pages of your little handwritten diary with the lock that doesn't actually keep people out, the world would be a better place.

Or keep a blog. So that only the really dedicated will open an outside link to see what you're spewing. Am I ever glad that social media skipped my teenage years so there is little evidence of the dumb shit in my teenaged past. There was at least some time to form the good habit of putting some space between my reactions and what I ended up sharing.

Blobert, Blobbera, and Waitressing

Let's start off by introducing the title characters, Blobert and Blobbera:

Yup, these six inch high models are a new addition to my drawing repertoire. While I love apps like Magic Poser and Easy Poser, it takes quite a while to maneuver 3D figures and there are always some awkward bend deform issues. While a physical model like these comes with its own issues, it's much quicker and easier to manipulate. 

When you first get these guys, you'll absolutely want to pop them apart and fiddle with the assembly. If you're adventurous, you may want to take an X-Acto knife to a few places. The male's neck is a bit thick at the back which limits the tilt there. The female's head tends to pop off easier since it's not ball socketed like the male. However, any part that isn't sitting right can benefit from a little putty or, my standby favorite, silicone earplugs. They're wonderfully built but make them yours, if you pick some up. I love how little real estate they take up as opposed to the larger drawing mannequins. I have Barbie sized ball-jointed dolls, built much the same way, if I need something bigger but I think these little guys will get more mileage.

As for waitressing, it does get better. While I haven't yet run into any raging assholes, it's also possible my natural temperament prevents that. I am straightforward but apologetic when I get something wrong. I easily take blame when it's my fault and quite honest about it. When people get irritated, I don't send it back. I simply nod and tell them how I will fix it. My family is more forthright so they tell me they will step in if anyone gives me shit. Which isn't terribly likely to happen, but it's always good to know they have my back.

In a typical day, we spend about 30 minutes prepping prior to a shift. People all tend to flood in around the same hour or two, but the rush typically doesn't exceed two hours. There are some people that linger beyond closing time so we pretty much work around them to close up and finish up pretty quickly once they leave. This little restaurant only serves breakfast and lunch, closing at two. I bust my ass for around three hours and it pays decent. If everyone was a fair tipper, it would be better, but we'll get a mix of cheapskates and big tippers that sometimes balance it out. 

I love that I rarely stand still. Sedentary jobs are the worst. I love it as an artist because I stretch out on the end of my foam bedding, wear pajamas, and break when I need to. However, getting dressed up in uncomfortable business casual, sitting in a cubicle and twiddling my thumbs would drive my restless soul up a wall. It's constant thinking on my feet and I sweat like a marathon runner but it does wear me out enough that good sleep is the reward after.

So my blog is a mixed bag of nuttiness but I'm okay with that. I'm working towards an important goal so it's important to build my bases too. 

Also, shhh, but I bought my younger nephew a lightbox drawing tablet for himself. It's not going to be as high tech as mine, but it will work great as a tracing aid that can turn his efforts into a digital file. For him, drawing is a hobby. If he decides to get serious about it, I'll help him upgrade but there's never a sense in dropping big bucks early into anything. Work your way up and you get a sense of doing things both manually and then really appreciate the newer perks as you go. I support my nephews in anything they want to try and they can try more when we're thrifty--at least until we know how far they actually want to take it.

Now about that sleep... I'm ready for it.

Desperately Seeking Solutions

It's no secret that I've been eye-humping Wacom digital drawing tablets for a while now, but I'm a long way from touching a price tag that lofty. I decided to start looking at those lesser known brands: Huion, XP Pen, etc. and found one by XP Pen that I'm now panting after as far more attainable.

21.5" display, touch keys, no touch screen, and a pressure sensitivity-in-the-many-thousands stylus with terrific reviews. Sorry, Wacom, but I'm cheating on you. Being nearly 5 times cheaper and much more reliable, it's not even a competition. I'm now aiming for the much more affordable range of $400-500 as opposed to the $2200-$3000 of the leading tablet company. For one, the 16 inch display falls into the $2200 range. Looking at the standalone option, Mobile Studio Pro, is upwards of $3000 and even those START at $3000, going up several hundred bucks for each inch of display.

While I'm sure leading brands probably get there for a reason, it's also very likely that hype starts to drive up those numbers more than anything. Look at Beats headphones; despite only being mid-range in sound quality, they're popular and more expensive than much better quality brands like Sennheiser. For a girl who just wants to start some serious digital drawing, the cheaper option is simply more appealing. I've learned over time that it's better to look past brand power, to find something functional and right for me, so research is a girl's best friend.

That's not to say I'm not a fool for Apple. People generally think that Apple is too high-priced or not upgradeable, but I've never had trouble snagging a great deal on them, especially prior to a new model. I'll take a generation behind the newest for a deal. As far as upgrading goes, my iMac was ahead of average for a good five years before standard PC packages ever came close. I've always preferred single-player gaming on consoles as well, so having a gaming rig was never a factor. I played World of Warcraft and Sims 3 on it just fine, no lag or graphics issues to speak of. My laptop, the latest 15" Macbook in 2010, finally reached the point where it wouldn't upgrade to the latest OS, Mojave, but I'm not shedding tears over it. It's still my faithful writing companion (but just as faithfully backed up because, holy hell, I've had it nine years. My first PC didn't hold up this long).

Even though brand power can feel like an added bragging right, there's nothing better than owning a piece of equipment you're not secretly cursing at, a trouble-shooting, customer support nightmare with a fancy logo on it.

I believe I've found my Mr.-Right-Now, which is as good as it gets with technology. Inevitably, tech just only goes so far before the hardware must simply be traded for the next best thing. The only technology I truly regret buying was my first laptop (I'm convinced Dell actually means 'coaster' in some language somewhere) and the Kindle Fire (which completely died for no apparent reason after less than a year of light use). Other than that, I've made some pretty stellar choices, fueled by research tailored to my long-term needs rather than being more impressive at a party.

I expect it will only take a month at most to save for it. But you can bet your ass I'm bragging about it when I do!

Abandon Outside Expectations

If my 'new plan for a new year' did anything, it wasn't simply making me set myself up for crippling failure, but reevaluating how I treat myself as a writer. I've done a lot of advice blogs, not coming from the place of an expert, but simply meant to help other writers to remember to be as flexible as their guys tell them to be.

So what about those lamenting they flit around and never finish anything? I could say that maybe the tides will turn, maybe you can try to try some methods that have worked for me. Still, you see the baffling overflow of bloggers and articles whining about how the overflow of ego-driven advice.

Where?

Seriously, where? This is the same thing that happened when Bird Box came out on Netflix. I saw tons and tons of memes complaining that social media is raving about it, but somehow, 99.9% of the people on my feed hadn't even bothered to see it. Given, I've got maybe 300-something friends on FaceBook and fuck Twitter, but the things that overflow into my feed sometimes assume we're all absorbing the same shallow sources.

A writer's bane is, what then; the burden of choice? That, in our most vulnerable times, we're possibly just drinking in the most click-baity articles while downing wine and using that fishing expedition as an excuse to claim we're 'blocked' or 'burnt-out'?

Because every writer I actually talk to has the equivalent of idea diarrhea (sorry that the analogy has come to this...) Even when we're not writing, we're endless streams of possibility. It's not anathema, to shy away from the pen or the keyboard. It's process and how you feel about it is contrary to how it actually works, more often than not.

The days where I write or edit the most are often days where I feel like, eh, I'll just poke at it for 15 minutes because I'm not feeling it. I never remember how much I enjoy it until I push it.

Sometimes I'm right and it doesn't take off, but this is one of those instances where I'm happy to be wrong.

Maybe it's because I went into the new year gently. I've finished all of the oral surgery, caught a bad cold and still, I'm hoping to get through the nitty gritty of editing and formatting. I'm really hoping to honor my mom's birthday with another book release, but I'm not going to panic if I have to adjust that goal. 

I know that doesn't sound gentle; the breaking of jaw and tooth, the wracking of coughs and the pile of publishing prep, but that's exactly how I see it. I've had to put off exercise goals so my body could heal first. I've gracefully chosen sleep when I really want to edit. I've taken my own advice, time and again, because the advice is only frustrating or useless to others if I'm just bleating the same shit other writers are apparently blogging about without applying it successfully myself.

Go ahead and blubber over click-baity advice while inebriated on your alcohol of choice sometimes. It's not the best advice I can give and it makes for a sad party, but what is good or bad advice comes with how well you mesh with, test or rebel against it. Don't let anything intimidate you against self-improvement. Don't let the pretentious goals of 'perfection' or 'mastery' push you off of being a story teller, no matter the medium you choose.

It is what it is. Sometimes the simplest truths are that plain. I can get flowery at times, but underneath the flower bed is a simple base of soil, a self-sustaining ecosystem that doesn't need me throwing fertilizer (or salt) down to feel like I'm doing enough.

Don't smother the garden. I can't stress enough that what keeps me steady on the path is being okay with not knowing every stone, not freaking out at every worm.

And while I heal, I'll be gentle, which includes busting my ass on a few pavers in my personal garden. Whatever works.

I may not be consistently blogging, but I'm at peace with that. It isn't a priority but I'll make it one when the time is right. Once a week sounds like a modest goal for now.

I'm Not My Number One Fan...

And, bear with me, you aren't really your best fan either. Maybe in terms of who gets sleepless with excitement as your work unfolds, who actually puts pen to paper (figuratively since most of us type these days)-- sure, you can be the ultimate first adopter. However, I'm exploring a new way to look at it, a sort of level-up for the long haul.

First off, my number one is an honor I want to let my readers believe they enjoy. They aren't necessarily, but very well could be, the actual first to buy and devour my work, eager for more, but it's my hope they both believe they're worthy of the spot and are just as eager to share that spot. I'm not writing solely to drive my ego so, while I'm driving the vehicle, fan input and even personal ranking is not something I feel is imminent domain.

Leading to my second point, I am the driver of my destiny, so I wear enough hats. How many hats is enough and why not wear them all? It's not a certain number, just a feeling. I wear similar hats to that of the fan, but when I can't be the most enthusiastic fan, I have to be able to choose the right hat for the job. Fans, no matter the lengths they'll go to paint their naked bodies in arctic weather, are still meant to be passive observers. Fans, you are candles in the night, both ritual and beacon in so many ways, but when I suit up to be a writer, the role of fan is too passive (as it should be) to affect the actual act of working? You can wear the same stinky socks for a week in the name of luck and less laundry, but it is still my job to move the words. So too will I look to you for inspiration at times when I struggle to find my stories.

Third, it's just not a good idea to share hats. Actual concerns about head lice not being the factor here, there's too much of an elitist thread in posing myself at the top of a hierarchy I made in the first place. I don't need first chair, first place, first comment, to secure my presence. It would be really fucking weird if I didn't have enthusiasm for my work anyway. Needing to lead my own fan pack is not a vote of confidence so much as a desperate plea. Certainly, I would be honored to be asked to give my blessing to make a fan club for my work official, but that opportunity is lost if I take the reins on that aspect of it as well. So in some ways, being stingy and selective with my hat collection as a budding writer is important to building some opportunities of higher value overall. Again, giving room for fans to build from their own experiences affords them an angle wasted on me.

Semantically, of course a writer still has to be their number one fan. Yet there are days I just don't like myself much where I still need to grab a hat and get to work. Some parts of writing aren't about passion. While fans assign themselves different responsibilities as well, from passion to precision, I still remind myself that I can't take on a passive role.

To embrace a cliche, these books won't write themselves. In that case, my writerly hats take precedence over that sentiment. Hey, number two ain't so bad, right? It's still the shiiiiiit...

It's Not Really a New Year's Resolution, But...

I guess the next round qualifies, doesn't it? I work this last weekend of WinterFest before the UpShift list grows bleak for a while, at least for someone with my timeframe. I'd already planned to devote January to UnSung's 2019 release, as well as that dentist appointment falling smack dab on the first of the year. This will also be the same month I devote myself to sloughing off the winter weight, looking into a doctor who can help me uncover the mystery of why exercise usually means more muscle gain than weight loss for me.

So while it's not a proper resolution, it certainly falls under a timeframe liberated from the crunch of gift making and temp work, a time when I can get geared up for ComicCon and future goals.

I feel the near-sighted trepidation of a busy weekend and the healing of these ornery teeth. Yet in the middle of that, I'm looking forward to going to WinterFest with my family as guests and our sit-in New Year celebration involving wine (the delightfully non-alcoholic sparkling sort for the kiddies) and a slew of board games. So it's not all crunch time, just activities that will require energy I'll really have to reach for.

Yet I see it there, just past that-- the closing of another book, which will be my eleventh. I see the gratifying hard work as I brush up the cover and format it for print and ebook. I see the excitement of returning to UnHeard, my NaNoNovel, to make it into an epic third entry to the world I never named. Only the continents, some of the cities and the smaller elements grow in increasing revelation, an homage to how blurry the world can get on the broad and distant edges. Even my most well-traveled characters are subject to how the world moves behind their backs.

I love how writing is so full of these little treasures of the writer. It's not just full of what we know, but what we reach for, what we want to know, yet still never quite get. Like sand art, we endeavor to create these rainbow layers, but no matter how much we try to pack it tight so the gap doesn't disrupt the sands, disturbances and time always break it down further when it's bumped around.

Rather than try so carefully not to disturb the balance, there is a moment when we must accept that stories are subject to forces that even care cannot preserve. Instead of trying to make the sands cooperate, we must appreciate the beauty of not only what it was but what it becomes.

I truly anticipate going back to that uncertainty. I've never been held back by doubt when it comes to creativity, at least not in this stage of my life. In truth, all through my life, what I've done even leisurely is somehow always magnified by people in wonder of what I sometimes took for granted. From the comics I threw onto lined notebooks in grade school to the fluorescent fairies I hid around the flower shop I worked in, there was always unexpected joy in having what I created for myself spied over my shoulder, the unchecked sounds of admiration for ways I filled my time and calmed my mind.

So why wouldn't I want to find the guts to share it? Truly, the response was worth it, but I was undoubtedly fragile. It took many years to forge myself into a creature that understood how criticism should be taken, to improve myself or ignore it altogether.

Let's be real here (as if I'm ever not) and observe that the 'suck it up, buttercup' sentiment is bullshit. It worked for older generations, for a time when opportunities were abundant, but even in cutthroat competitive areas nowadays, it does you little good. Sticking it out nowadays means it's not healthy to suck up all that poisonous tripe. Those generations didn't have the ruthlessness of keyboard warriors and doxxing that could make or break who you are. We don't need to suck that garbage up. We need to turn it into something useful and send it out. We need to strategize, to build armies, to be the arbiters of our own fate because letting others define us is dangerous.

And, really, I don't know anyone who says that who isn't sitting comfortably in a niche that is working for them. 

Closing on a light note, I love squirrels. Not just watching the silly bastards, but how much their constant bustling seems completely carefree even with such purpose to it. How, once they make it to the top of a tree, they don't just puff up in pride. They look for the next great adventure with no hint of complacency. It's no wonder so many writers consider them a fitting mascot.

Christmas Comes

Things crocheted yet another weekend of working awaits. Yet as the work is done, the dream only strengthens. I feel my worlds beckon and it's almost time to absorb myself in those places they offer once more.

I think fondly of my flagship series. I wonder what it can become once I find it a wider audience. It's been the crux of a massive change in my life. Like becoming a college graduate, becoming a published author is something I carry with me always. It's one of those titles I kind of want to blurt out every time I meet someone. I had the courage to turn a long time dream into a medium I could share. I was able to become more than just another person who is writing a book. Not that I'm not always writing a book-- even when I finish one, there are five more in various stages of completion.

Right now, I'm anxious to let everyone see the gifts I made them. Crocheting is tough on hands, time and delicate fingers, not to mention posture. Yet the time I put into it makes me proud to suffer and sacrifice to make these things, to make people happy through what makes me happy.

The creation process is just as much frustration as it is joy. I can't tell you exactly what makes self abuse through creation so irresistible but I'm always looking a few steps ahead, anxious to make it something tangible. There are these tiny moments in there where I perfectly understand the insane magnetism and it must be those moments that make the hundreds of hours worth it. Yet when people use words to say they can't do what I do, I still don't quite understand why they consider it focused or disciplined or that they're too restless. Creation is chaos, turbulence, always transforming. I'd understand it more if they said that taming it is like trying to scoop dry sand with a fishnet. You can eventually pile it up with what you've got, but you'd get there quicker if you think of what needs to happen to make it work better. Wet the sand and the castles fall into place (although honey or glue are a few tricks of the trade too).

Anyways, look forward to a relaxing Christmas and then the return to writing and editing. Castles to build, after all!

G-G-G-Goals!

Goals.

When people wonder what motivates the super-productive, it can be a tricky one to answer. Sometimes, it's not about the creating so much. I've sat down to write just to stay awake so I could be sure I hear the Fed-Ex guy delivering something because gods forbid they ever knock. Other times, it's just a great excuse to drink coffee and move my hands for a while. Or it's a break from crochet or drawing because my hands are itching to go but the threat of RSIs mean it's time to change up.

Sometimes, it's just a choice I make.

Goals (still here) help. I mentioned before the advertising and wanting to do ComicCon are big to-do's even though I haven't been making much money. At writing. I do take odd jobs here and there that means my fish don't starve, gifts are made, etc.

In some ways, I have too many, but I try not to look at the pile-up. There's the UnQuadrilogy I'm still working on. I have several books started with rough outlines for possible outcomes (one of which actually became a short story instead). I have two comic ideas I've been fiddling with treatments for. These aren't just maybes. These are ones I constantly think about, jot down notes for, all while writing up drafts and editing and the other life-ish things.

I'd love to bottle it and sell it. I'd be filthy rich and could afford a studio and employees and just pump shit out like a factory. However, it's a matter of whatever magic formula appealed to me. Like losing weight, it's not just something you can do for a week and, boom, you're done. To build good habits takes a lot of work and it's always easier to just not do it. Like losing weight. I really need to get back to that, but 'tis not the season when I have much else to do. The fish tank and long walks and running up and down the stairs because every truck sounds like a Fed-Ex truck maintains me for the time-being. The tough part is resisting the temptation to bundle up and eat. When you've got the genetic make-up of a she-bear, this body stores everything like it doesn't trust me not to eat for a while. It's not wrong. I forget. But bingeing is a big no.

It's a mental thing. Yeah, I'm mental, but I mostly mean discipline, fortitude, motivation. It takes patience and introspection. If you think sitting to think is wasting time when you could be doing something, then that's likely part of the problem. Thinking is the powerhouse for action. I can't tell you how often planning and brainstorming for an hour had led to typing 2k/hr for 5 hours of work. I managed a 10K sprint in part-time hours. My usual average is a modest 1k/hr so that's a HUGE time-cruncher. The same thing can be apply to your creative pursuits.

If you have an inner critic, you need some sort of ritual to drown them out. For drafting, it's absolutely pointless. When you are building up an idea, your ego, goals, criticism--they all have to GTFO. They'll have their place, but ideally, you need to stop worrying about everything within 10-15 minutes of steady work. If you have the sort of focus to try for longer, then go ahead and stumble for 30 minutes, an hour, but if you really can't get the creative juices in their own arena and your head keeps getting in the way, time to abandon it and try something else.

If you're stubborn (and I am that too), then it's not necessary to completely throw out your plans, but you will want to change tact. I've posted quite a few helpful ways to dabble in writing-related planning, including map-making, character sheets, blogging, updating social media or websites, mind-mapping, brain-storming, Venn Diagrams, eating, drinking, sleeping...

A common area that writers can forget. If you're a busy person, it's even easy to miss how important those things are to how useful your brain and body are. Eat, drink, sleep. Lots of water and, yes, it will make you pee a lot. There's a rule that I broke for years; you know, the thing video game warnings used to print out? You need a 10 minute break from sedentary work every hour. Having to get up to pee is a great excuse. If you find it too distracting, take a notebook with you (or keep it in the bathroom) and jot things down. I've similarly done yoga stretches or made food to eat while attacking a notepad. You think your art suffers for interruptions, wait until your body slows down after prolonged abuse. You could be looking at months, even years where just sitting up in bed is a chore. It's not just an old people problem-- it's a danger in an era of technological convenience.

It's really not necessary to keep lists like I do, but it doesn't hurt. If you just tend to forget, then setting alarms and making lists are good habits to start. 

Sure, it's tough. All of it. Typing fast, pounding out ideas, those are very hard won advantages to working efficiently, trial and error. It's messy. It's less messy once you build up your arsenal, but if what you want is to actually work on those ideas you're wistful to put to work, then you need goals. You need to devote time, however small. You need to plan what resources will make you more efficient. You need to have actual things to look forward to (like getting a booth and ComicCon, planning giveaways, paying for advertising).

Speaking of which, I'm hearing a lot of writers downing on paid advertising, yet some of my more successful writer friends are always drumming up interest in promotional materials, giveaways and... paid ads. I would, however, warn everyone not to dump hundreds into ad-campaigns, no matter how much of a 'deal' it's advertised to be. Start at the lowest priced packages and if they build success, then move up through the amounts. Ending up in the negatives because you think more is better is a common pitfall. Stick with something budget-friendly when starting out. This is advice I see consistently and something to definitely consider if you're on a low budget.

I'm Telling You-- Nothing Like Flying High!

I joked with a friend last night that if I was really dedicated, I could still make it to 50K by the middle of the month. I really didn't intend to actually sit down for the 10+ hours it would take to do it, but my cold-addled brain was the overworked cheerleader I suspected it might be.

50,309 words down by 11:16 PM. You're damn right I did it.

I'm absolutely chuffed about it, clicking my gods-damned heels and fist-pumping carefully because the sloped ceiling is really not room enough to do it without breaking some knuckles.

Still, I'm thinking about my other writer friends, the ones way ahead of me (yup, there are plenty of those) and the ones way behind. Again with the word count... When I said you can ignore it, it doesn't mean to remove it as a motivational tool. It could convince you to stop, it could convince you to keep going, but it could still be strangling the benefits of developing good habits too.

People burn out. Sometimes this kind of thing might have people so paralyzed that they don't even touch a keyboard until the next NaNo sneaks up and sends them into a state of cold panic. Okay, that may or may not be accurate, but writers come in all kinds.

I'm sticking by the assertion that passion needs discipline. With the good days come the bad. They don't balance out and sometimes there's so many of one that the other seems to have abandoned you completely.

I think my momentum does largely come from the setback. Not so much because I wanted to catch that midway ambition as much as I just COULDN'T write for days and I wanted it so, so badly. It wasn't a mental hurdle. I could even stab the right keys when I was poking for them while lying down with a tablet. Voice dictation probably wouldn't even register my voice as human if I tried. All throughout it, I daydreamed (because sleep was not happening much). I passed out and didn't dream and my mind craved the loss by giving me technicolor thoughts.

Yet I wasn't terrified they'd slip through my fingers. I don't regret the things that slip by. What ends up in my stories is what is meant to be there. If it's meant to come back, it will sprout up elsewhere. I'm so full of these damn things and I don't squander any time lamenting what I haven't done, won't be able to do or am not doing. 

I'm doing. Are you doing? Then get to it. Again or for the first time. Float ya boat.

One of those Update Posts...

Occasionally, I like to jump in and 'double post' (essentially just posting a real-time post on a day where a scheduled post went through as well).

I do have quite a few posts coming up that I had a lot of fun with; I use color combinations to explain some of my characters, using the post topics in a way that is related to my first series with some of them. Hopefully, it shows off my voice a bit. It can be tough, since my fantasy voice isn't quite the same as my first-person blogging voice, but I'm always looking for ways to bring them together.

Premature picture, but my excitement beat me to it...

Today, I conquered one of those exciting milestone moments. My epic fantasy WIP/draft has passed the 200K word mark! There is still quite a ways to go to finish up UnSung (which is going to easily be the size of 3 regular full-length books), but I'm creeping towards the finish line. I'm bouncing between the epilogue and the third part. Since my epilogue leads me into the book I want to work on for NaNoWriMo, I'm trying to keep it fresh throughout the month while I plan to hit the ground running.

Although I was aiming for UnSung to come out this year, I can't promise that now. Namely because I really want to make sure I edit it to the best of my abilities rather than just throwing it out there. I know I have the ability to write and edit well, but since this one is so big, I really want to make sure the facts are locked down and the transitions are smooth as butter.

A lot had changed from the original plans in the book itself even. This tends to happen as a writer really crawls into the cracks and gets to know the world they're creating from top to bottom. 

Anyways, now that I completely my weekly writing goal by breaking the 200K mark, I'm due for some much needed sleep. Thank you for sharing this little moment with me. I'm aiming for at least another 40K to finish, but there are quite a few plots I'm still working on, so that may be surpassed.

Either way, I still plan on publishing this in the 5x8 size. In order to try to keep the cost down though, I'm going to work to make the font as small as possible without causing anyone eyestrain to read it. I've already reduced font size from my first books by 2 pts, but I can probably get away with reducing it by 4 more points in the print format. I'll probably still keep line spacing at 1.2 since that does help visibility regardless of font size. I'll experiment with it a bit. This really only applies to my print lovers, since the ebook version is always fully flexible with user settings.

What are your own writing goals these days? For the NaNo people, are you working to tie up current projects to start fresh or are you continuing something you're working on now?

NaNoWriMo Prep!

Whether you're a pantser or a planner (or both, like myself), NaNoWriMo is worth some planning. Since my laptop charger went kaput, planning is the more palatable part of writing for me right now, but I'm not going to assume everyone is going into this already knowing what they're doing.

First of all, if you're doing it, add me now. AbsentGoddess. I'll be a cheerleader and an ear throughout the event, no exceptions! I love interacting and helping out fellow writers.

As for the topic (yup, still here!), this isn't just a good time to plan the book itself, but a good time to set up your page (sometimes they have a queue for new accounts so at least knock that out ASAP). Pick your user name and password and click through the links to see how badge work. Some you can 'award' yourself, some are milestones that go through when you claim your word count. It's an honesty based system so you can lie... But there's actually gratification in doing the work, so at least try.

(In the name of nabbing the winner's discounts, I do suggest fudging your winner count if you want the discounted programs at the end. I have no doubt you'll reach the word count eventually, so you're at least a runner-up in my book.)

What else? Go to the My Novel section. If you haven't planned this, it might be a good time to play here. Pick a title, a genre, and a 'cover image'. Write a synopsis, plug in an excerpt if you have one. Most people who reach the word count did so because they plugged in these details that made the whole thing feel more tangible and attainable. All of these details can be changed at any time. Change your mind. Continue a partial draft of something else. Write five short stories. NaNoWriMo isn't about quality. The focus is on quantity because the point is developing habits, methods and creative flow cognition. There are after-camps for refinement so let this be your opportunity to challenge yourself not to self-edit.

**Prepping is mostly about seeing what is available on-site, getting familiar with any changes, building your buddy list and checking out guest writers. You'll get personal messages and site-wide messages of encouragement during the event. Make the most of it so you can decide your plan of action and focus.**

I won't lie. I self-edit. But I also attempt to stick it out for the word count goal. It's actually simpler than you think if you do it in the spirit intended. Ideally, you're going to just aim for the best output. 

If you're a 1K word per hour writer at best, this should be where you aim to race for that goal. I believe the average word count per day sets your minimum daily count at 1,666 words (1,667, if you have some superstition about three sixes in a row). Assuming you having a full-time job then an hour and a half of free flow writing is probably a pipe dream during the work week. Set up your deficits for weekends. If you only nail half of the minimum each day, then you're looking at some modest chunks of hours to catch up on weekends. 

Too much? Give yourself an early bump. Again, it's an accountability system that doesn't get suspicious if you claim 50K words on the first day. If 50K words in one month isn't possible, consider starting a couple weeks/month early and maybe claiming the 10K-20K you prepped with.

I've never seen this community look down on anyone for 'cheating' or 'lying'. Some people adhere to the strictness for their own goals but ultimately, this is only about writers writing. It's about encouraging everyone to start that one book they swear they have inside them. Poets, fanfic afficionados, short story writers all participate (so even the Novel-Writing part is not a rule). This is more like a writing camp where the content, the criticism, the confidence-- none of it matters. We're in it for the camaraderie, the challenge and the courage to begin! (Alliteration... Imagine that...)

Pass my name along to your circle of writers! I want to see new and old faces and keep up the tradition of passion for the craft. Also, feel free to subscribe to all of my social outlets and toss me yours. I've met some amazing people through these sorts of events and I'd love to keep that up.

For your convenience, you'll find all my links on the footer of my website HERE.

Smoking!

Not really; I don't want to be stopped...

Crazy. Here I thought I'd never get going until this weather picked a non-Apocalyptic range. Physically, I'm still a hot mess but mentally, I'm insatiable.

I was supposed to take a break today, but yet again, I crept back to my passion projects. I want to share so bad but I'm waiting until I release the covers. I'll have a ton of progression screenshots to share too.

Surreal, really. Once I give into the curiosity and start poking at the paintings, I start feeling like they're part of the space around me. I'm flying through the toolbox without consciously choosing anything but somehow it's always the right tool. I'm connecting with the characters all over again, remembering why I fell in love with writing them to begin with. Beyond all the worries, I remember that I'm not a novice. That I've been at this my whole life, got two degrees in design, rocked an internship and paid my dues. I made the choice to design intuitively, to chose vision over what is most effective for the market. 

Let's face it-- the most distributed advice is to emulate success, that authors in your genre before you paved the way to give you the guidelines. Future writers are supposed to build on that. Bullshit. My favorites are my favorites because they followed their story. They were dedicated to their craft. Let's not forget that this IS a new age and self-publishing, for better or worse, ushered in the courage for polymaths to shine. We get to research cover design, formatting, the craft of writing and storytelling, all in a way that makes us agents, publishers and marketers on a new level. We get to blog from our tablets and put our computers, scanners, printers and social media to the test. It's a wonderful time indeed.

So as impatient as I am to share, I'm also in a workhorse state of achieving. Writing, drawing, formatting, editing, planning and, more importantly, doing. Imagining success but humbled to the task of just enjoying the process. It's both in my hands and completely out of them. I read my stories over and over and never get sick of them. Someday, I hope you will too.

Find your passion and revisit it whenever you can. Your story awaits.

UnNamed is in review...

Well, campaign is closed for voting for UnNamed on Kindle Scout. It will be under review 'im the next few days' so I cross my fingers and wait. Now, normally I work from a place of hope. Work and creativity are something I can apply optimism to and I'm usually very happy with the outcome.

Yet after the stress of knocking out some huge milestones, I've developed a rather cynical approach to how much I let potential rejection get to me. I expect it and plan for it. I don't even make the proverbial basket you count those chicken eggs in. It isn't that my confidence has been destroyed. I wouldn't still be hacking away on another book if that were true. I still take those disappointments and find positives lessons. Some people might call it a thicker skin or putting up a wall when it's not quite the same. I need a window into humanity to be a creator. Placing barriers might keep things from getting in but it also stops anything from getting out. Yeah, I've been there too. To express myself I was breaking walls then wasting time building them up again.

So no walls. Guarded gates, perhaps. Just like you don't put everything precious to you and brick it shut. Protecting things too much means you don't really get to enjoy it either. Again, been there. My stories were too precious, my ideas too vulnerable, lock them all up. No, that's not where you want to be. So where do you want to be when waiting to see if someone else thinks you've got what it takes?

Don't wait. In my case, I might have imagined positive and negative outcomes but until a thing happens, the emotions-- no matter how overwhelming-- are superficial. Much like empathy, no matter how strong, it's secondhand. I've lost my mother but I still have absolutely no clue how you feel even if you did too. I don't know how every conversation with her triggered all the things that make you you, nor if you were on good terms, nor how you grieved. The same goes for stressing yourself out about something that hasn't happened yet, even when you have a pretty good idea what might. You might be the sort of person brave enough to fight fires but the first time you walk into someones house and their pet ferret runs across your feet, you're shrieking for dear life. Thing is, most of us have no actual clue how we'll react to a situation until it's here.

Personal anecdote time! (I need to make a graphic for these.) When I was in sixth grade, I started to get bullied. In elementary school, I never had problems with anyone so it was a lot to take in and it lined right up with my mom and dad separating. Mom wasn't there and Dad was in pain; I was scared of being another problem so I kept myself alone with the pain more often than not. My best friend at the time starting shadowing a more popular girl but I was starting a friendship with another girl who was not only also bullied, but unfortunately much longer than I was. (I adore that girl to this day-- my nephews and her daughters go to the same school.) On top of this, the city decided I didn't need my best friends living at the end of the street as much as we needed another highway (how my young brain saw it). I considered myself pretty weak and an easy target with all the blows life had dealt.

One day, I had gone down the street, just to sit in the woods before they went and tore them down too. Rather than getting to feel sorry for myself, I thought life handed me another cruelty as a girl who enjoyed verbally abusing me came out of the woods carrying a big stick. Everything in me wanted to run but I froze to the spot. I can't remember what shitty things she said but the usual fear had flickered from rage to something cold, something alien to me then. She tried to hit me in the face with the stick and my arm shot up. I caught it and smacked her right in the side of her own head with it. Then that urge to flee I and wanted in the first place came to my aid. Guess which bitch didn't bully me anymore?

I wish I could say all of my run-ins with bullies went that well. Yes, I liked the taste of that victory and yes, I've found that cold satisfying reactionary place more than once. I'm sorry I can't say the bullying had ended and every confrontation gave me superpowers. It took a lot of standing up for myself until by high school, being 'weird' was my new successful bully repellant. I learned that most bravado fell flat and I was far more brilliant using logic and humor to avoid resorting to punching sense into people. Violence was never my first instinct but a frantic reaction to getting people out of my personal space.

Okay, slice of life served, let me reiterate: we are not chained to everything we think we are capable of, good or bad. It's never as simple as knowing yourself. The state I am in while waiting-not-waiting to see how this campaign goes comes down to this. It won't be my first letdown and won't be my last. It won't be the sort of victory I can retire on and quit for a life of luxury and ennui. It could change my life for the better or I keep going and work to release it anyway, another slower climb to the top. I've been through the most likely scenarios. I have no actual idea how I'm going to feel about rejection or success here. I have a book I'm drafting and that's my primary focus, the thing I'm doing regardless of the outcome. I'm focused there.

If you voted for me, let me personally thank you for that. The system doesn't show how many votes I get. (refreshing, if you ask me. I don't like fixating on numbers.) However, it does warm me that people want to see me succeed in my oddly humble goal to just get by on my own hard work. Not wealth, not fame, just a living doing what I love. I hope I have a little something for everyone eventually (just not all in one book because those books are for no one). Being an ecclectic sort, I plan on staying genre-curious. Fantasy will always be my main playground but I've got a lot of angles brewing.

Keep writing. Or reading. Mostly keep a sense of humor. Best armor ever.

Happy New Year!

I've always found the idea of resolutions to be fraught with far more disappointment than encouragement. Life doesn't let you plan for death and loss or the sweeping thrill of sudden joy either. It just doesn't, so those timed goals can feel like an impediment. 

You know me-- always with my ambitious lists. One thing I don't do is put a definite time limit on them. I don't say with any promise that any year will be great. Although I often start a new goal on a Monday (which is often my favorite day of the week because of that), I don't beat myself up when Wednesday night makes me realize my weekly goals might have been over-ambitious. 

Things get done. In their own time. Sometimes it's a lot less than you wanted, sometimes it's a lot more than you hoped. I don't wake up demanding a promise of a good day. There are things I have to actively do or avoid or just face in getting through each one. At the end of each day, I like to look back on it and tally my victories and defeats and do better.

I definitely don't plan for breaks. It's the one thing I absolutely suck at. It's not that I don't know how to relax, it's just that there is actually so much that I fully want to do. Sometimes I go weeks before I realize I'm probably an insufferable cunt because I haven't touched a video game in forever. I don't necessarily regret it but it then becomes an immediate priority. Yes, on my list of priorities, dreams and family often come first, but nothing is locked in place. At any time, video games might take the top spot because I need to inspire my work or just need to enjoy the fruits of someone else's labors.

You probably beat yourself up when you think about how selfish that sounds in your own life. Socially, we've been geared to pump out a top five list that sounds agreeable. It's one thing to do that for the pageantry of conversation, but one of the reasons Americans are so laden with mental illness--  we feel so guilty when our actions don't fall into this impossible ideal that we neglect what had been groomed into us as a luxury rather than an actual need.

Don't know about you, but becoming a ball of stress never did me any good and it certainly didn't make me useful to those around me.

So go into the New Year with that in mind. If you must make resolutions, make them flexible. If you want to lose weight, great. Don't put a number on it. Make sound and workable lifestyle choices that take into account that you are human. Overwork and injury make you less than productive if not useless. If you want to finish that book, go for it. If you barely make it to the end of 2018 with a legible draft, you still did far more than the person who didn't start at all. Take into account the hurdles you faced and figure out what you need to do to press on.

Try not to make your goals a slow walk to the guillotine. You might face some crippling adversity or you might catch a lucky break. Humble yourself to all of it. If you base your next goals off of your very best week, you're probably going to slam into a wall. Rock bottom sucks but I like to think of an old lesson I learned as a child. You don't build your house on sand, you build it on a rock. Rock is your foundation. You don't stop there or try to dig through it, you build up. Think of what will keep your next house stronger.

I know life is tough. You won't hear me reflect on all that's gone wrong in my life because those were footnotes. I will deal with chronic pain and mental glitches my whole life and I've learn to stop fighting against them, but to work them to whatever advantage I can suck out of them. I have become an intuitive and deep person through those bumpy spots. I've become the sort of person that people know they can talk to because I have no desire to abuse the vulnerabilities of others. I protect others as preciously as I've protected myself but I don't hold anyone back either. I know it sounds like I'm tooting my own horn but you should know that once you can tear through the fog, there's a bright side somewhere. Yeah, sometimes there's a lot of fog and some pretty terrifying and impossible pain. There are parts where I was sure I should give up. The longer I endured, the sweeter the air on the other side. Even when it left me boneless and weak, I was glad just for the ragged breaths I could pull into my lungs.

Maybe I'm just shit at telling time but I don't weigh my success by the rotations of the earth. It can be staggering to reach beyond yourself, stretching beyond your home, your town, your country, the earth and out into the universe. You wouldn't take on all of that at once, so don't treat time like a thing of convenience either. You are an amazing creature of so many possibilities, just reach each day, even if it's just the length of your own arm and grab for something. Treat each day like a new start, the beginning of your potential. 

I had a humble start. Touching base with my handful of dear friends through messages, doing the work/play labors of love... That's the short version. I made some Perler bead crafts, finished the last of the simple color basing for my third book, read some of my friend Liz's story and wrote a few hundred words for UnSung. Woke up at 1:30 PM, braved the cold to walk to the store and run into my favorite Kroger employee and friend Landon. Got home, made hazelnut coffee then made some Omaha Steaks with my family, courtesy of the holiday gift from my aunt. It was a humble day, but the absolute perfect start if I could ask for one. If this day could really set the tone for what I want from the 'year', that would be everything I could ask for.

What I want to leave you with is this: reword your day. If your day sucked, rewrite it in a positive light. Sometimes your car breaks down, you get the worst news of your life and there really is no silver lining. This is where artists often work some magic. There are lessons there, ones that seem impossible to paint with any light, but trust me, it's possible. It's also been my number one survival tool. Sometimes it take a week, a few months, a year before I am able to see value, but that's the art of life. Losing my mom was soul-crushing, displacing, but there was something there, waiting to push me ahead. I wish I could name it but laboring to do so wove its magic. It's not because my mom wanted it or because I was moving on in her honor. Those things felt so trite where possibility was concerned. Perhaps it was more like the pieces of her and the pieces of me reordered to make a new picture possible. Somehow all the pieces, no matter how fucked up, they still manage to fit. I could have let them be wasted or collect dust, but I didn't.

That's what matters. If you're going to collect anything in life, put it to use. If it's not useful to you, find it a home. Sometimes the answers are deceptively simple, only the journey to arrive there coloring them with true meaning. Do quotes ever mean the exact same thing to any of us? Yet something resonates there, doesn't it?