I Know, But I Don't So I Wish You Well

While I did have a good relaxing weekend--got to spend time with one of my best friends, Emily--it was also a pretty bad week for an alarming number of my friends that lost pets.

When Frodo, my toy poodle/fox terrier mix, died, the two months after that, I wasn't sane. I was hearing his bark and running outside as if Dad left him out there again. I'd wake up thinking he was cold and needed a blanket when I knew damn well he was buried in our backyard under fresh snow. It wasn't pretty but I'd just lost a dear human friend the year before and I didn't have a gauge for the grief of losing a pet that was a huge part of my day to day life.

As if there is one, but I'll get to that.

My cat died six months later. Both my cat and dog weren't euthanized but if I could go back, I would have taken that route. Watching my dog die of congestive heart failure over a few days and then watching a tumor growing on my cat, lonely in the basement because it kept bursting, were traumatic. I can't imagine they were happy to suffer through it as well. Yet it was because I saw their suffering that I was able to gracefully let my mother go. I don't find in mercy in the kind of hope that makes people dangle those they love on the miserable edges of a finished life. It's not even selfish to say that those who go on living need to let go rather than prolong the grief. I still feel the guilt of how my cat and dog died, but I am at peace with my mom's passing.

As I was saying, there is no gauge, no way to prepare, but I have a hard time bringing people close. I think of the misery of what it would be to lose the family I already have. I even think of their misery if I go first. And then I don't think about it because those thoughts can never prepare me for the reality. 

So while I know grief takes on many forms, I also can't tell you I was ever more or less despondent with any incident. There's not a ranking and I despise when people try to compare grief. It's always a black hole with no edges. Whether you lose a child or a baby squirrel you were trying to nurse back to health, if you ever got the warm fuzzies from that life, then your grief swallowed you. 

Time does factor in. Even though I feel the clench of loss and shed tears for all of them still, my grief is beyond the hole without edges. I can somewhat recall the floating nothingness but I can't tell you I know how you feel. Pain is not something we tend to remember vividly, no matter how much we think so.

Because it's funny like that. At one of my lowest points, I went mentally numb and cut myself but didn't feel it. A sense of wonder crept in and I kept dragging the scissors over the cut and the nerves were dead. It's not the sadness that is most dangerous, but that numbness beyond it. When we're crying and sulking, we are feeling and processing, but when it stops, when someone seems serene, you best believe that is where you have to keep an eye on someone. Pain can reach a point where it simply becomes ineffective in warning us of what is wrong. While severe pain may resurface and feel familiar, it is not ever the same. We do not remember; fresh pain will always just feel like the worst pain. We can even empathize to the point of physical pain, but...

I'll never tell you I know how you feel or pretend I'm an expert on what you're going through. Those places are lonely and the people around us will feel helpless. They'll try to empathize or cheer you up and it will probably piss you off or add a layer of guilt for pushing them away. Let people annoy you and hover on the edges. They're there because they want to be, so the guilt is one-sided. They want to make sure you're feeling, that you're not going numb, that you're not suddenly euphoric and generous as so many people on the edge of suicide sometimes are. Your anger probably makes them relieved that you're exhibiting any emotion at all.

You might push people out of your life. That happens. Sometimes your grief is making them depressed or frustrated and they need to move on. Sometimes you'll also bring people in who understand you better. You will never be the same and you don't want to be. Your life from then on is without the one that died and learning to find the edges and see around it means you can't focus on making everyone else okay with how you adapt. It doesn't make you or them good or bad--it means you're incompatible and you move on.

So all I can do for my friends in their time of loss is say that I hope I can be there on the edges. I hope our paths, even if they separate, will cross again. I want you to find your new life on the other side of the chaos, whether you bring anyone with you or have to leave your old life behind.

I know your pain, but not really, so I just wish you well.

Scrubbing Day

Like Pippi Longstocking, there comes a time when sometimes the most cheering feeling comes from domestic shenanigans. After a day of cleaning the fish tank, doing a boatload of laundry, taking fifty flights of stairs, healthy eating and a lot of walking, I... am just cool with being showered, lying in a clean bed, and letting my sore but satisfied body do nothing more the rest of the day.

My head is in my unnamed world, full of named cities and continents and struggling characters, but I look at my laptop across the room, laugh cynically and pull up my tablet to write a blog post instead.

Even though my NaNo draft has been sitting untouched since, I remember some of the little side scenes I haven't gotten to draft yet, playing at the frayed edges with secret laughter, sideways smiles, and furrowed brows as I feel the untouched structure strengthen without spoiling what it will be when I finally commit to typing its first draft into existence. I think of the Young Writer challenges, where I wrote scenes and notes that would never make the book (but might find a home in my blog someday), remembering how they decided more firmly what my characters would and wouldn't be.

I see the ending already written but still so distant, so lightly molded, as it will eventually be baked into its final form from the paths leading there that will decide its shape. I see my side stories more firmly resolving the character of the enigmatic asshole I wanted to create, not just through his own actions and circumstances, but the people around him as well. I see each of them as main characters and side characters, significant yet just as easily buried in the ever-stretching sands of time. They are the deserts that grow over time, the stubborn oases that keep such deserts from being unsurvivable wastelands, the cities lost and found and lost again. They are sentience and constance and vigilance and everything in between.

When their journey ends, I will still step into their stories and more besides, time and again, even as I move onto other projects. They may not stay so prominent in my memory, but pieces will resurface because faded is not forgotten. While some things are blurry as our minds build anew, some become the foundations of a greater curiosity the writer will explore over and over.

In my own future, there is hope in the long haul rather than any frustration for the present. I eschewed expectation, managed to create a place where I'm not discouraged from my goals.

Palate cleansed, I patiently coax my muse to return, to feel the natural flow, so I still write daily, regardless of whether it goes towards my goals. Sometimes I bleed on the pages, sometimes they keep my blood thrumming happily in my veins, words filling my lungs and releasing, coaxing my breath when the story leaves me breathless. I do not dare to dread the finite time, but grip it both firmly and gently, my unpredictable steed to guide. Whether it takes me all over the world and into old age, or it bucks and I break my neck, I know that this is life and I was never in control of anything but hope.

When I begin again, for hope at least speaks in whens not ifs, it is always time.

Ageism? It's Just My Opinion.

I turn 38 this year, which means the same thing it does every year: people older than me may devalue my opinions as inexperienced and childish, people younger than me may dismiss my opinions as jaded or over saturated. As we get older, there are less of the side that looks down the age ladder and more of the isolation and accusations of the younger set.

Believe me, I do plenty of asking myself if perhaps my saturation of experience makes me harder to please, but ultimately, when I'm actually accused of this, I balk at how ridiculous this is. The idea that I can't enjoy anything because my tastes have gotten too specific or impossible to please is not implausible, yet as I run around collecting 100 of the same item I already have in a game I've already done everything else in or watched a new movie three times in a row, I can just as easily say the exact opposite. I'm also quite easy to bring into a new loop where I don't ask much at all.

As for preferences, I don't really have a set area. I'm no more a hardcore fan of fantasy than I am opposed to all things sports. I find I read more thrillers, watch more action and comedy themes and I love the Summer Olympics, even those less popular events like fencing. I don't spit on mainstream as hype nor do I swear that the lesser known are underrated because you're all uncultured swine.

Of course, when playing Kingdom Hearts 3, I wondered if I'd just aged out of liking the story. I could rephrase it to sound more empowering, but I was so uncertain of my own opinion, that I turned to the Internet to see if it was just me. No, like many other gamers and fans of all ages and backgrounds, there was something missing in the magic of the story. It was a beautiful game with great gameplay, but again, there was an overwhelming outcry of 'what happened to the story?'.

We're not morons who are too old to follow or remember the so-called complexity. For one, it's not complex, it's just layers and layers of the same boring casserole. It's Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball, Pokémon--the same concept over and over with a new car smell in the same vehicle.We're driven towards shiny new characters and outfits, but there is still something sacrificed for the cosmetic. The devices become frustratingly simple and never lead to any new concepts. The fan is in the know but the characters conveniently lose their memory, their powers, their achievements and potential. Sometimes, entire plots and subplots are dropped and because they're too complex and rich to keep afloat in the distraction. Instead, it's rinse-repeat of the simpler ones. I too often felt encumbered by a snail's pace and a tedious repetition as if I were a stupid child that hasn't been paying attention. I'm paying attention, I just feel like it's not actually earning my attention.

In return, I started skipping the story scenes. As a gamer, there was no penalty for this that detracted from my enjoyment of the game itself. As a writer and storyteller myself, I was chagrined that I wasn't engaged in the story.

This isn't a one-off occurrence either, which is why I questioned whether I was becoming jaded. Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest's latest entries also left me baffled for a similar reason. While Final Fantasy XV started out rich and fun, the last third of the game was just bad writing. This is especially true if you watched the anime and CG movie leading up to it and wondered why the build-up led to absolutely nothing at all. Why even write an epic where there is no point? It's about as exciting as the neighbor passing out from heatstroke while mowing their lawn. It's not newsworthy, so why tell the world like it's worth everyone's time? Dragon Quest's usual fun romp with puns and cheesy goodness just felt corny and flat. While there were moments meant to captivate with emotion or drama, the light-heartedness of the presentation didn't fit these themes. Yet games like Dragon Age, Witcher 3 and Skyrim, despite or maybe because of their lack of endless cutscenes, still top my best games list, and not because they were flawless or even innovative stories. 

Uncharted, despite being accused of being playable movies, don't feel like a hostage situation to me. The cinematics always built the right amount of tension and I felt the flow when it was time to mash buttons again. I was embedded in the same way Marvel movies hook me--there's serious choreography and strategy to what makes the action so engaging that I hate to blink and miss the fluid transitions in every movement. There's a real sense of the genuine in the conversations and the plots. It's even possible to forget that these are grown-ups in silly costumes at times. It's not small talk and there's nuance and subtlety beyond the surface.

Hell, I've even been accused of cultural snobbery. Despite being otaku to Japanese everything for much of my fandom, some people still insist I don't understand the cultural preferences of small talk and storytelling of Japanese culture. However, I can just as soon point out what I consider to be successful in many Japanese stories that I still enjoy. The absurd part is that this accusation almost always comes from white men. I like to remind them that my opinion isn't representative of all American white women, but while we're there, does my taste and opinion become less valid if the story just doesn't jibe for me? Trying to invalidate my opinion by pointing out my race, gender, etc. is a strawman argument used to make me defend myself rather than accept my skills and talents are adequate to hold the debate. I am a storyteller, a creative, an editor, a professional in many creative fields, if not an expert in some, yet an unfavorable opinion can lead to a question as to all of that. Fuck me for choosing a field rife with subjective opinion, but let's not attack my character for attacking the build of a fictional one. When our tastes don't match, it too often becomes a personal attack, so I often go out of my way to talk about the work, not why your opinion doesn't match mine.

I want to love everything I try. It's for that reason that I am probably going in too soft, giving something more credit than it has earned from the onset. It's not easy for me to ditch nostalgia or feelings because I want to be loyal. I'm not even relieved when I'm not the only one to just not love something anymore. I'm crushed when sequels don't improve on something I love. When I write, I know personally that I want each story to be better and, hell, as of now, I have no great success of popularity to even bank on, so I absolutely don't feel like I can coast on a great beginning. Yet I can't eschew honesty when I'm falling out of love. I would rather hand in my fan card than pretend I love current trends.

I can live with being the jaded old fogey. It's not worse than being discredited as inexperienced or ignorant. Sometimes I'm easily amused or entertained and other times, I'm over-critical and impossible to please. Perhaps I'm also lucky that I'm in the position of a creator, that rather than getting burned in the search for the next best thing, I can hunker down and fulfill what I want to exist. I'll probably always be discredited for really absurd reasons. I'm even in a place where I have to protect young white boys from being discredited because everything white, male, ableist, straight, etc. is being called to task. Their fight to have respected opinions is often going to be a struggle not to fucking offend everyone and assert themselves as individuals, not representatives of all that is wrong with white men. Ageism is the least of their problems, but certainly a part of it, because there is no golden age for being universally respected.

Why are we called to task for perceived advantages? It is an abyss, really, but it seems ever more absurd that just the act of liking something superficially often comes with the burden of questioning if it's 'okay' to. Does it make us a stereotype of our age or gender, etc. to like or not like anything?

Yup, it's exhausting. An unavoidable burden of living. We wish we could be as stupid, ignorant, or shallow as we're sometimes accused of being, if only because there's peace in emptying ourselves of the burdens of so much dead weight. 

I can't say I don't care what people think. Yet I can say that we can't afford to care about everything. We sometimes have to clear our caches and be content with ourselves, to quiet our brains and accept our own opinions before we seek to bring others in. We do need to bring in opinions and be validated and share and give and take, but wisdom teaches us that if we can't face ourselves once we act and think and share, we must adjust what we allow to take in and put out there.

Age does not assure wisdom, but it also does not assure senility. To discredit someone, especially yourself, because they've cultivated years and routines and selectivity in what goes in and out is a discredit in itself. 

Learn to smile or laugh in the face of words used as weapons. Don't let people put words in your mouth that make you mute towards your own potential. Defend your right to be what you are. Walk away if the time isn't right to mount a defense. Don't let someone else's ignorance of what is important to you dissolve your ability to enjoy or dissect it for your personal growth. People have bad days and it makes them petty. Don't give that shit real estate in your head.

And when people arrive at a point where they antagonize, patronize or condescend to throw off the argument, they've already lost. You don't have to invest in that snobbery. Walk away, add a dash of 'fuck you' and move on to greener pastures. You're only getting older and there's never a good time to endure heaps of the same bullshit.

Is It That Time Already?

Yesterday marked the deadline for submissions concerning the fantasy anthology I will be a part of. Wow. In a couple of months (on Halloween), it becomes a thing. Because I've really only been working on my long game, it will be the first officially published short story I've done. I've free-published a lot of things over the years, but there's always something special about doing more than just poking at a keyboard and hitting the Publish button (coughbloggingcough). That's not to say blogs can't be researched and well-edited, but it's not the same beast.

If you flip through my many posts on self-publishing-- formatting, covers, etc. it still only covers the tip of the iceberg. I had to go through a lot of processes to make sure the quality was to my standards.

Namely from the time I finally finished my first series (I had decided early on that I wouldn't publish them until I'd written and edited them all meticulously), it took at least a month per book to get them all publishing ready. While a lot of that was learning, correcting, and trial and error, getting better at it really only shaved minute amounts of time off of the process. 

The first big hitch in my process came in formatting, the very first place I started. I've talked about it in detail before so the short version is that Word HATES imported text and styles and makes a mess of it. I did a lot of transferring the file to different versions of Word or mobile word processors without realizing that I confused the hell out of them. The first three books suffer from this problem since they were in various stages of completion over the ten years I started them and poked at them half-heartedly. Even when I've had to go back and reformat them for Smashwords Premium or do some minute edits, they've consistently been uncooperative. The best solution had been to import them into a generic text program to strip the formatting before pasting them into a clean file and NOT messing with the Normal style to create new body and header texts. (I'll paste the links for my tutorials at the end here since I'm bringing them up more than once.)

Editing is where a lot of people lose confidence or just get frustrated, but it can be enjoyable once you develop some effectiveness for the process. I know this goes against most "rules" writers are fed, but the first edit is usually more creative than my first draft. I'm taking everything I was wobbly with at first and refining it, developing the characters and story, and so on. If I ever ask anyone to read my work, I've already done two or three basic content edits by that time. My first draft is more like 1/8 of a treasure map and not one with the location on it. I usually develop the most confidence in my story well into the second draft, if not the third. Editing about 80K words take approximately 2-3 full days or a week with more of a part-time dedication. This includes content, grammar and corrective edits. If I end up having to add entire scenes, it can take another week. (Sometimes I consider this more drafting than editing since it's new content that I'll have to pass through editing.)

Design. It is what I went to school for, but graphic design also took me through formatting (I had to do catalogues, pamphlets, package design, copyediting-- so it's not just making collages and doodling). Book design carries a number of factors. Marketing or vision or both, it's creative control and also substantial time spent in the designing itself. The font and placement factors aren't such a huge deal with time, but remembering that the image will need to leave room for them is important (something I didn't much consider in the beginning-- oops).

Eh, for the hell of it, I'll share one of the first book designs I did for school.

Not bad for a beginner, but it's a tad bit cheesy and I'd use less glow and more textured backgrounds these days.

This tends to be where a lot of writers decide to outsource, but when you're an artist first, it just seems like a missed opportunity to improve that skill. If you do decide to go for it, I'd say it can take anywhere from a few days to a couple weeks to make a decent cover. Sometimes I do a cover design while writing the book and decide to tweak it or redo it, which throws the time off from any window of certainty, but I tend to be a quick though quality designer. While interning, I heard that a lot so it must be true.

The hamster wheel. Even when you're sure you have everything formatted, edited, and designed, self-pub services aren't perfect. They'll flag you for correction of weird and invisible mistakes, not auto-adjust an image that is 1/32" off-- fun stuff, you know? Every time, you must go through approximately ten minutes of uploading a new file. Smashwords gave me so much shit over my third book, the ebook constantly making odd sections of text bold when this anomaly wasn't showing up in anything but the epub file. I eventually fixed it, but it was an odd one that took a couple of weeks to iron out. Smashwords records all old and new updates so anyone can view the many times it took me to fix that.

To put it into perspective, I was finished writing all nine books by May 2017. The first was published August 7, 2017. The final one was published July 11, 2018. It seems 'fast' (when you consider most authors publish one book a year) but fast writers actually finish books in about 2-6 months on average. This is actually considered the slower part of the process since it entails most of the editing, formatting, wording process. However, you can expect about a solid month of aftercare, if that's also a fulltime+overtime level of dedication. One year is both ambitious and generous for a new writer. If you do take the six month deadline, then it's probably best to spend the next six months marketing.

Marketing... yup, I'm still not there yet. But props to my friends/fans for dropping my name here and there while my head is still in the writing game.

I could add more but the weather is making me lazy about hanging out on my desktop to blog these days, so I want to surround myself with sketchbooks and notebooks on my floor instead. I'll throw my technical links below for easy use. 

Cover Design at a Glance

So You Want to Get Technical? Formatting 101

Where to Self-Publish 

Self-Publishing: A Process (This one takes you through some steps and requirements)

I've done tons of blogs dabbling in editing and method so it would be tricky linking those specifically. I've gone over some methods as I 'discovered' their use through trial and error to see what best fit any story I was working on. Most of these weren't described in great detail, but I might condense that into a post later, just some editing methods, what they were useful for and why. Editing is one I haven't specifically focused on, other than the mentality you can use to turn it into something fun rather than the chore some people make it out to be. I have picked up quite a few tricks to content and grammar editing. I'll have to bullet-point this one to hash it out best, but what is editing if not effective organization?

From time to time, I'll repost those links, but I'm going to tag this post with 'book links' for easy access.