Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts

Thursday, November 7, 2019

Slow Start

As it turns out, I haven't *yet* gotten going on NaNoWriMo and it's Day 7. On previous years, I was pretty much halfway done or more by this point, but life got in the way. November 1st, work. November 2nd, a wonderful wine tasting trip with dear friends Erika and Phil. November 3rd until now? Bad cold. I'm taking antibiotics and steroids but I'm still not quite human. I worked today and I work tomorrow, so it's looking like Saturday is where I stumble to the starting line in Heelies and dangling from the bumper of a drag-racing jalopy.

But I'll get there, armed with a Slender Blush wine from Country Heritage Winery in LaOtto, Indiana. Going to have to order some more of it too, since they do ship to Ohio now, but my humble bottle will get me toasty and raring to go for an awesome word sprint.

I do this while juggling time with my nephews, school, work, life, so it's a challenge but I'm not panicking. The 50K words is a chip in the full demand of this story anyway so even if the goal is made, there's much more to do. I may be throwing out a short story anthology, continuations of both of my series, come my mother's birthday, just so I can put out something then. Neither rushing UnHeard too much nor unable to put out something worthwhile.

I only plan on working at Sports Page until the Christmas break before I crack down on my projects full time again. Money is nice, but passion isn't something I find worthwhile to ignore. I don't mind being less affluent in order to delve into my projects fully again.

Ah, as for doll projects, those are being chipped away at, if not in actual work then in acquiring more pieces to make the work possible. I've been, er, collecting more dolls at that. I have three tinies, one medium girl, three large girls and a large boy now, some with plans, some just keeping me salivating with possibilities. I also have a cinnamon toned Nendoroid that I plan on modding to become Dinsch, my rabbit hybrid (Bryfolk) character. I have most of the parts. Just waiting on some gouache paints to start some of these faceups. I was going to do acrylic but I've seen a lot of advice that gouache is a lot easier to work with for a beginner and I am, unquestionably, a beginner in the doll world.

Rienna, the first of them, currently has her garters, dyed bathing suit/leotard and wig done. I have yet to sculpt her armor, make her boots and carve her sword, but I'm being rather fiddly with these parts since I keep looking for advice before diving in, making sure I'm investing in the best pieces before diving in. I have several clays, fabrics, and woods to work with, so if one isn't going well, I'll be able to minimize frustration by hopping to another option.

In any case, I'm off to start an adventure with Linux for a friend, so do wish me luck, if you have it in you. I'm a very busy woman and wouldn't have it any other way!

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Power Hours

My waitressing job isn't tough. It's even pretty fulfilling and good for my social development. It's also a compressed three hour (sometimes a little longer) shift, which is so much better than running around or standing for an 8-hour shift. On a slow day, I still pull $50.

But damn, it drains physically like I ran a marathon. Not quite tired enough to nap, but not really awake enough to do more than vegetate with Netflix or Hulu. At best, I might sit up to scribble down notes on what I'd like to do when I have more energy.

Well, last night, I printed off and added borders to another 100 business cards. That took about two and a half hours so it wasn't too time-consuming. It was pretty much the slow wait of them printing then folding and perforating, followed by sorting border colors, rolling on tape, cutting excess, rinse repeat. I like the sort of mindlessness of it because it gives me room to daydream or just quiet my thoughts, sort of meditative.

Tomorrow, I'm going to peruse website layouts, pick those out, pick HTML colors (they'll match my business cards; a mix of cream, warm browns, and a dusty purple accent), organize photos, then let Joe do his magic. I was only putting that off until I could test print the business cards, make color adjustments, then decide how the site colors would play into that.

Writing might happen, but really, I'm anxious to finish Totem. Writing is something more natural to step away from but art seems to have a window for whether it will be finished or I'll get distracted by a shinier visual desire.

I'll be ordering a doll base soon, with the hopes of customizing her to look like one of my female characters. It's difficult to find the right male doll parts. They tend to be generic, boyish (rather than masculine adult), and limited, which is why it's much more tempting to customize a female. Now, Iplehouse, one of my absolute favorite BJD manufacturers, sells the most amazing male forms, but I'm not quite in a place where I could display, protect or maintain such expensive dolls so that option is not a short-term goal. If I had the room for a big display cabinet and even more to spend on the base bodies, let alone outfitting them, I'd have two foot tall versions of at least a few of my characters, but for now, I can dream. It's a much higher priority to juggle inexpensive hobbies with my career ambitions than it is to blow every cent on showstopper pieces.

Of course, there's crochet too. I'm still waiting on a few yarn colors to come in the mail so that's on hold until then too. I tend to buy inexpensive but ridiculously soft milk cotton yarn from overseas. Unless I can hit a yarn sale locally, most US companies charge more for less impressive yarn. As much as I love to support local businesses, especially since I'm leery of supporting countries where labor laws are inhumane, yarn is one of those supplies that goes fast and takes a lot for anything but small projects, so it's just as distasteful to spend more for less quality and yardage. Yarn production isn't one of those things that even needs heavy manual labor to produce, just someone to inspect and fix the machines that spin, color and label yarn.

Time to stare at some show I'm only half watching for now. Much to choose from but I have a good idea where to focus my priorities once I've rested.

Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Rainy Day Insanity

I'd like to say I've worked on digital drawing.

I'd like to say I've written something worthwhile.

I woke up at 8:30, adhering to my new resolution that sleeping in bites ass and I need a schedule of some sort. Despite noon still being early in the day, waking up at noon usually means my brain saying 'aw, fuck it. Day's half over so let's do nothing.' 

Instead, I made coffee and baked cookies. My grandma's recipe for M&M cookies. I looked on the big package of M&Ms I bought and there was also an M&M cookie recipe. I compared the very similar ingredients and scoffed at the different amounts. 3/4 cup of brown sugar? Pfft, amateurs. Nothing short of a cup! 

My cats are shit helpers in the kitchen. After tripping over them a few times, starting to count how many times I tripped over cats then losing count altogether, I took to scooting across the floor and wading through the sea of cats. Two. I have two but I also have two feet and each was clearly assigned to one of them at all times. After making most of the cookies, I end up with not enough dough to fill one last tray so I turned down the heat, made one massive cookie of the rest and decided my nephews could make breakfast out of it.

Made my way upstairs where I went back to punching out borders for my business cards. Fucking sparkle paper everywhere, but I got through the whole stack. I looked at my floor, horrified by the disparity between my ugly ass brown carpet and the pixie-esque paper freckles and dove for the vacuum cleaner.

Once I was sure I was rid of them, I browsed through my Amazon wish list and added some glue dots and roll-on adhesive to the cart. I'll need those to affix these damned borders to the cards, along with the trinket bags. Might have to order printed bookmarks though. Although I like the tassel selection, I rue both the cost of ink and the size selection. 2 1\2" across which just seems about an inch broader than I'd like. Looking to go about 1.5 by 5.5 or 6 on those. The smaller books people buy are about 6 inches in height so exceeding that is inconvenient. Besides, I'd like them coated after printing, both to preserve the print and make them stand up to accidental water or coffee damage.

I've had some people wonder about the borders. I'm not hording the idea like some trade secret so I'll disclose what that's about. I ordered some fairly cheap small origami paper, about 7cm square (though the 7x14 sheets were also good--these are going on the short edge of the card so I don't need a lot of excess). You can pick up a 50 sheet pack for $1 if you're thrifty.  I also ordered a border punch from Walmart, this one a rather simple flower or crown sort of vibe. That went for about $13-14. I have to line up and punch twice to get across the 7cm, so I'd say the actual border punch length is about an inch and a half, give or take a few millimeters. (Don't hate; I use standard and metric like a bastard queen.) On a 7x7 piece I can get about four rows. I stack about two or three of the sheets together at a time. The border punch is pretty sturdy but it doesn't go through heavy cardstock and anything more than three thin sheets is both hell on your hand and risking breaking it. Once the cards are printed, I'll run roll-on glue along the bottom of the border and attach it to the back of the card.

Again, I'll get pictures of that once put together. Feel free to steal my lovely ideas. I doubt I'm the only one to come up with them, but I embrace being extra (and don't really think many people would care to put in the extra work anyway).

I'll keep regular business cards out on my table, but reserve the extras for people who buy something or just talk to me for a bit. I'm not looking to bark at people and make them endure my enthusiasm. Like in real life, I tend to draw people in by my easy-going nature and reserve the enthusiasm for those who engage my interests. At a convention, there are hundreds of other vendors and hawkers wearing people down. I'd rather be people's respite and meet them where they're comfortable.

It's nearly 1:30 as I write this and, as you can tell from the shift to active insanity to informational babbling, my brain is threatening to declare this time 'noon' and squandering the rest of my perfectly productive rainy day. I might not be able to seal my windows just yet, but I might scoot my lazy ass over to my computer and work on my sad pink princess picture for a bit.  If I hadn't worked yesterday I might have done more then. Not that she's going anywhere or serving any purpose. Just a vanity project, which is what I call anything that isn't boosting some specific goal. Everything is portfolio worthy, to be sure, but she's just my excuse to play on the new displays, get used to them and such.

So! Off to attempt to disabuse myself of bad summer habits and try to make something more of the day. Working tomorrow and Dad's birthday is Friday so those will eat up the better part of the next two days, if only because I'm making my dad his favorite kind of cake, carrot cake with cream cheese icing. I'd like to do it by scratch. The store bought icing isn't bad, but I think it's a little too sugary and not enough cream cheese. A rich cream cheese flavor really makes carrot cake amazing.

Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Work, Work, Work, Work, Work

It's my favorite kind of weather and I woke up tempted to go back to bed. The only way to get the energy going was to bend to the joyless task of housework. Not just the normal fare like vacuuming, dusting and wiping. No, I went whole hog and bleached the kitchen garbage can, scraped my windows (I'm installing some of those heat-reducing films later this week), and covering evidence of where my adorable little hell-cats managed to scrape paint off of the wall.

It worked. So I worked.

Finished up the business card image:
Done with my XP-Pen Artist 22E Pro

Playing with the design for it, but not yet done with that. I spent the better part of today just cleaning this image up and hadn't set up a business card template beforehand so I just took care of that part.

I may do more tonight, if not, tomorrow is going to be another gorgeous day to do it!

Sunday, April 28, 2019

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.

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Golden Moments

Hey!

I know it's been a while, but I didn't want to encourage myself on a downhill slide, even on the chance it might be honest, raw or eye-opening. More often than not, it just rewards feelings not worth camping out in. What needed to happen was self-reflection and rejection of turning a good habit into a bad one.

I did the important thing and took up more temp work. I've been simultaneously confronting the anxiety and running from it. I clammed up around others but didn't push them away when they spoke to me. No one asked me what was wrong and I didn't quietly invent reasons, feed the feelings that weren't born of valid reasons to begin with.

The first night, when I was learning the job, I had to concede I had no idea how to do everything. They were understaffed even with help called in. I felt bad because I had to pull the girl off of the register to make what I didn't know how to make. Yet she was patient and kind and didn't resent me so I had no trouble telling her I was grateful for that. 

The second night, they were adequately staffed and one of the girls patiently showed me how to make the menu items I was unsure of how to do and even told me I did a great job when I held my breath and just did okay. Yet because of that kindness, I didn't hesitate or shake when I had to make them again and it felt great to not inconvenience them. That night, people asked me about my art. They also looked stunned to hear I'm 37. A 17 year old girl blurted out she thought I was 21. Even though I fancy myself immune to flattery, I felt that little flutter. Because they had no motive to make me feel good about myself, I was just genuinely touched.

I won't lie and say my anxiety magically went away. I still feel the edges of it, clamping tighter when I'm relaxing and thinking about nothing in particular. I'm sore and achy from working but even with those things working against me, I wrap my hands tightly around the kindness shown to me and tell myself I am worthy. I look forward to the people in my life and when I can find sit down in front of the tablet I'm saving for.

Then, another magic will begin.

For the time being, I'm enjoying the blend of people noticing my good qualities. I'm letting people flatter me for looking young and pretty, for showing off my intelligence and kindness, for whatever else people can see that I might have forgotten. Not because I suffer from vanity and need validation but because I too believe they are good, honest people who mean what they say. How can I expect others to believe me genuine if I can't do the same?

Tomorrow will be a good day for walking. I want to let the sunshine soak in and lift me up too. I want to spread the kindness others show to me, to show the kindness that never leaves even on the darkest days. I could say the strong version, something along the lines of the light being within me all along, but in truth, I feel strength in admitting that golden moments are reflected by many and the source is insignificant.

The sun might be the brightest, but the mirror is blinding as well.

Sunday, February 24, 2019

My Favorite F-Word

Not that one; friends!

I got to go to a Coheed and Cambria concert last night. It's been over a decade since I've been to a concert and I've never heard their music before. However, my friend Joe is one of those people who has a really good (or at least aligned with my own) tastes in music so I let myself go to be surprised and really enjoyed 'discovering' them this way. 

Before that, another dear friend confided in me over a really stressful issue she didn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone else. Even though there's little in my power I can do, I did offer those things in my power (listening or any action she decided to take that needs a crew). It always feels good to be that trusted person and more so when I can get them out of a situation when they decide to take a big step.

Today, my friend Erika posted pictures of my paperback copies of my latest series, which was even more icing on the cake. It always feels amazing to have your friends brag on you, especially since I don't have those 'participation award' sort of friends that don't act like you shit gold with every step.

I used to be the sort that would commiserate with others over the only two friends they actually have, but that would be a self-effacing lie that discredits the wonderful people I'm grateful to have in my life. Even if I only see some of these people twice a year or haven't met them off of the internet at all, there are simply people in my life that I could consider best friends, loyal friends I share meaningful conversations with, that can't be ranked less than friends. There's simply none of the restrained politeness that you'd assign to acquaintances.

Every once in a while, I can ascribe general positivity to some of my limitations and I can't deny that my friendships rarely stay in the small talk category for long. Both I and them know pretty quickly whether we click or not and we dive right into the meat of each other's lives. There are always areas where we clash but rather than fan those flames, we gladly pass those places up and connect on more common ground. If I am down-to-earth or kind or intelligent, it's easily because I keep those closest who let me be that person without shame. If they seem I am flustered or start to stammer, they don't point it out or agitate it, knowing it will pass on its own. I'll laugh, slow down my speech or stop then catch up and all is good.

It's not that the world around me has to take the lead from me. I know it's just as much self-discipline that teaches me to accommodate others and some will not play nice. Walking away from hostility works too. However, for those most patient, I am also able to be a great friend to them. Even as a retail worker, I tended to reward kinder people with better recommendations, sale items, and personalized information, simply for letting me be helpful. You don't have to exhaust yourself with a false face to navigate the world, just be open enough to let people be themselves. Don't take it personally when a stranger treats you like garbage. It's never personal because they don't know you--it's harder for a lot of people to be honest with those they are closest to so they sometimes see strangers as the better choice to take that out on. In most cases, you find a place between firm and kind. Don't let them step on you but also don't let them make you defensive. Often, I see hostility melt into apology and exhaustion rather than continue. When they're too ruffled to stop, there's the walk away.

And yes, even with customers. In fact, I often go straight to a manager on duty, explain that I walked away and ask them to handle it then I'd excuse myself to the bathroom to calm down. At that point, I'm usually so close to a panic attack that I can hear my heart hammering in my ears but I never ask to the restroom. If I ever have the sort of manager that tried to discipline me for that, it's a job I will walk away from. However, even my worse bosses have not gone to that length. It's no longer than a usual bathroom break and I come back a blank slate, ready to go.

You can't be afraid that the world will punish you for taking the initiative. Knowing how to be a productive worker is nothing you need permission for so don't ask for it. Handle it and show you know what you're doing. There's no benefit to bottling as if they own the air your breathe and over medicating to suppress valid human reactions. People who latch onto how badly you need the job will use that against you sometimes. Give them your best, the best YOU know how, and you might be surprised by how your situation could improve.

There will always be parts of your life you shouldn't take to work, things you'll contain in the moment.

But that's what friends are for, right? 

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

Merry Christmas!

Didn't know if I'd find time away from the unboxing of gifts and general excitement, but here I am, ready to write.

It's not the same as hitting up my stories, but I'll take it!

I got plenty of cozy PJs from my family, or what I like to call my writer's work uniforms. All the more a treat since I do put on other work clothes to earn money my newbie writing career isn't cutting... Yet. I did get a spiffy new pair of Skechers from my sis for all the walking I do.

Being an UpShifter is a blessing too. You'd think showing up new to a job would be stressful, but it's actually quite the opposite. Insofar, these places are so used to us and the learning curve and grateful for the help as well. It's always in the back of my mind that even if it's not a job I want to do again, I easily don't have to sign up for it again. Sure, I'd rather write all day, every day, but because it's always a choice, I don't have to pine for the next day off on a schedule that was chosen for me-- if I want a week of starving artistry, I can take it. Or I can work all week because money is great too.

I was upset to hear that some UpShifters don't take it seriously. Some walk off the minute they get an assignment or do a poor job. I hope that this is a rare occurrence since I'd hate for programs like this to fade because clients can't trust us. Luckily, UpShift doesn't give us a bunch of chances for that kind of nonsense. Don't take the privilege seriously and they boot you for good. All three parties-- the client, UpShift and employees-- are protected well from shady practices. This means if the client tries to screw us over, it is investigated as well. No one is immediately guilty but offenders are not given a slap on the wrist.

Still, back to the good because it's too good a day to ruin! I know this doesn't sound so joyous but I have a dentist appointment coming up to get these janky teeth fixed. First day of the new year and I'm looking forward to getting rid of this persistent tooth pain. I'd like to focus on health and happiness again this year. See if I can revive my metabolism, put better fuel in my body, so I can be my best as an artist and worker. 2019 has a lot of lofty plans I hope to tick off so let's get it on!

Saturday, December 22, 2018

Jobs Suck, But We Like Money

My cousin's mom, Lisa, repeated this sentiment last weekend as we were getting off of our shift at King's Island's Winter Fest.

It couldn't be more true. It's why I could never quite trick myself into believing things would get better, that getting to know the same people year after year, people that constantly want to talk about hating their jobs-- I wasn't about that life. So I'd taken a lot of jobs I was overqualified for, just to avoid sticking to some stagnant, joyless existence. It sucked too, never making money to reflect my experience, corporations putting citizens in a position where they are underpaid for their skills, under the guise that they are new and have to always work their way up. Let's face it, after a probationary period, salaries need to be no less than living wage. But capitalism... I'm not saying all of its concepts are bad, but corporations get away with too much shit and it's keeping our economy from recovering. It's keeping struggling adults struggling.

UpShift is a godsend for a dreamer like me. I get the impression that I weird people out a bit. I don't try to talk to anyone, but I'm polite when spoken to. I don't make a lot of eye contact, I stumble on simple words, but I work hard. While, yes, I'm overqualified, I do get to make the wages I'm qualified for even if the job is anything but suitable to my skills. My pain levels have been higher and resting doesn't make me feel rested, but I can work as much as I want then just as easily take as much downtime as I need. I can fill it with writing and drawing and dreaming of a life where my skills are exactly what people want.

It's a wonderful service that gives me hope again. It doesn't tell me I need to follow society's darling model to be worthwhile. I can save for what I need to bring attention to my creative pursuits. I can take vacations when I damn well want. I can work on my writing when I'm on vacation (hello, writer's retreat). 

Baby boomers don't really get it. They think they have to worry about me. Too little, too late, since their excess put my generation here. But no. I found a way to finish college and I found a job service tailored to my life goals. Sure, I'm hopelessly in debt because we still have a long way to go to compete with the happiest countries on Earth (the ones that might tax the hell out of you but make sure that money means never paying for medical care or education)... But I make do. Sometimes I even take a bullet to catch a criminal, which means I took on more debt than I could handle to expose a broken system.

Lol one time, I even purposely made a bogus purchase, just so I could have my bank investigate what I suspected were phishers. I got the money back and they got shut down. Okay, I actually did that a few times, but I knew my bank protected my money and I would get it back. Going through safer channels like police reports usually never gets investigated before phishers can hit thousands of people. You'd be surprised how fast banks can expedite this.

So I'm clearly no stranger to risks. They may not be the smartest, but that's the point of risks--that they may make you look stupid. You still have to believe that some good will come out of them-- a lesson or a blessing, as the saying goes, but acting with integrity and an openness to accepting the consequences is as important as the risk itself. It didn't matter that I might put my own security at risk sometimes. I had a hard life from a young age and that taught me that security is as much as illusion as anything.

Our work is never done. We have this perception of coasting on a victory, but I know that the hustle is for life. Most of my generation doesn't even get to consider retirement so we are pioneers of a life no one can really advise us on. We worry more about our health because it's a very real possibility we'll die of some stupidly preventable disease. Not to mention, our bodies, if they reach old age, will still need to be viable for work.

So, yes, my generation needs dreams. Our Great Depression might be laughed at but our reality is that we can't afford to let people tell us how to live. We have to be the arbiters of our own fortune and luck because the odds are against us. To stay viable and optimistic, we have to be willing to shut out the noise and find our own paths. And maybe somewhere down the line a future generations can dig us out. I hope my nephews' get to live a much better life.

Although, what is 'better'? I don't consider my life a failure. I don't suck at life. I wasn't dealt the best hand, but I have amazing friends and family that came from those struggles. I have people in my life that enhance my optimism and I have these abundant inner reserves that don't let me give up. I am able to be a wonderful role model and deliver my perspective with the power of comfort in solitude yet an ability to adapt and contribute in team situations. I'm comfortable with letting people teach me and generous when it's in my power to teach.

What I feel is better may be a life that doesn't challenge them enough. I want them to know what it's like to be graceful when you need others but empowered to handle being needed. We all want a world where there aren't gates put up that future generations are locked out of, where they at least have the opportunity to climb and overcome. Yet that generation, they will probably be better equipped to handle what left us bewildered.

Jobs will suck, but we'll keep being pioneers of our own destiny.

Saturday, October 20, 2018

A Little More in Self-Discovery

Partway through my cover design phase prior to NaNoWriMo next month (less than two weeks!), I've realized what I thought would take a month is actually much quicker. It's very possible to have those four covers done by the end of October. As usual, I'm taking progress screen shots to tease prior to book release, but I'm beyond thrilled with how they are turning out. Blending for realism is a lot different than comic art so I thought it would take a lot longer. However, I'm getting the results I want  and I'm partway through the second cover already. Doing the third and fourth will only benefit from what I've learned already.

I've seen a lot of amazing artists on YouTube, many doing realism or comic art and even a hybrid like I aim for. I've been able to look at light and shadow differently and makes lists of things I want to try next. I didn't really have a lot of confidence I'd pull it off, so it was surprising that I have been able to find it intuitively rather than on purpose. 

There's a lot about drawing that requires me to let go, to confidence levels at all. Realism looks horrible at first. I can't immediately enjoy it like I do with line drawings. Yet once the colors start to deepen and shapes start to form, I understand why I endure it. When I start to manipulate them with unnatural, saturated colors and exaggerated proportions and forms, it's really fun. I never realized how much blending creates such subtleties in form. It's something you don't really see until you're manipulating it directly.

I never really pictures my characters quite like this before. It's not that I pictured them as cartoon characters either. I've always had a general idea of their features but visualizing them for cover art is new for this series especially. Again, I wasn't sure if I should do character art, but it's also what I enjoy doing, so it always wins. I'm not married to the idea of people thinking they should see them that way, but I do want people to see what I enjoy. Multi-talented people, this is our golden age, so always take advantage of that! Writers are not just readers-- we're also artists, crafters, pioneers for the benefits of taking control of our creative properties.

I'm grateful for every day I can pursue this. Anything can change that so I cherish it. I take every opportunity to draw and write when I can. To craft gifts and find a new problem to solve. It's made me a better person to be around. I have better relationships and bigger ideas and happier nephews. I love that I can pass on my knowledge with them, show them why it pays to pursue things you enjoy, bounce ideas off of them while we walk to and from their school. Right now, it's drawing. 

I find that big chunks of writing OR drawing tend to make either feel more profound. It's really funny how every time, I feel like I'm going to be rusty, so my confidence is an asshole. Yet, it's the time away that also creates this sense of wonder that I've actually developed some skill in the other that really shines in the transition.

Eventually my attempt at a comic book is going to rock. I'm going to sit down to do it, thinking otherwise. It's not humility or even lack of confidence because I feel like it's just practical. There's no preamble or procrastination in getting going, so it's more like underestimation for something I just haven't done in a while. The world will go away-- not because it's a bad world to be in, but the transition is about surrounding myself with a space that needs to be filled. It's not about escape but feeling as if I've been commissioned, an au-pair to a cast of characters wandering without direction, the architect of the mountains, valleys and cities to come. Like a favorite movie, I watch it in stages-- rough and new, engaged and developing, ripe and rich, burgeoning and complete. Every stage is trembling, on newborn legs to first love to frail old age. 

My eyes get a big workout. When writing, I sometimes stop looking at the keys or the screen and start rapidly looking around the world I'm in. Drawing is constantly drawing with my eyes what isn't there yet. I've laughed about how much work I do with my eyes, but I wasn't entirely joking. My eyes do tend to strain and twitch from use. Hand-eye coordination is big for crafters of all kinds. They tend to work together but it's not unusual for them to wander on their own.

Well, off to bed. I'll probably pop in with more progress updates. November will probably be more of the same. I may get more blog organized by December and think of a fun series to share. Until then, let's keep at our goals!

Thursday, October 4, 2018

You Got You, Babe

I might have said in many ways how grateful I am to have the support system that I do (and that it wasn't always so ideal or even present at all). I see many people twisted up over the lack of support, and namely a very specific disappointment in a certain party. Women upset that their fiancés aren't enthusiastic about reading their work, individuals of all ages (even adults) lamenting discouraging or outright hostile parents, people wondering if they should ditch friends that avoid reading it at all costs.

Yet the more you push, the more resistance you will get.

What must drive you, and what you must never become complacent with or spoiled by even when your support is phenomenal, is you. I know it sounds insultingly simple and you'll hear it said a million ways by writers reaching out to support other writers, but you must do you.

Without knowing how you're built to be receptive to change, most people (myself included) will resist the more people insist. I tried to push people to believe in me at one point, but it's time and energy wasted in how I could keep proving I had what it takes. I'm not a joiner and I don't know why I thought I was so rare in that, but I find that most people aren't anxious to swim with the other fish upstream unless the reward for the effort is irresistible.

Well, what effort is involved in just passively sharing your work on social media, or word of mouth? A great deal of people also want to believe we discovered our most treasured assets and there's also a HUGE amount of pressure you're putting on them to be what you want from them. They do want to be your fan in some sense, but they don't want to seem like that simply because of that relationship. They look like a tool and anyone they talk to is suspicious as to whether they REALLY like it. You may be writing something they've never been interested in and even if its genre is close, it still might not be the tone they enjoy. They might see your writing voice as uncomfortably intimate and don't want to know how you bare yourself as a writer to the public. They also see how much it means to you and even the most honest friends might be terrified to jab too deep and send you into depression.

Even though I offer reasons, this isn't a good way to analyze their motives with a game of twenty questions. Really, you have to go passive on this one. Let them come to you but don't be wounded if they pretend ignorance. You probably exhibit sensitivities that make it difficult to approach you. Work on that.

How? Again, this work is about you. Delve into it, refine it, tear it apart, lay it open to critics and bleed. It can take many, many years to get a peep out of the people closest to you. You might want to find cynical reasons or use that writer's mind to weave a tale of their bitterness and resentment for your passion. Pfft. Get over yourself on that. I mean it. I had to. Jealousy is like that spot in your vision that moves when you look at it. Even if there's a chance they are, you're kind of just the annoying douche that pokes their eyeball to try to make them see it.

Like the header says, you got you. That introversion into your work is your retreat to build and wreck and rebuild anyway you want. Don't turn it into a place of overwork or grudgery in some desperate act of chasing perfection and acceptance. You really have to keep the pettiness out unless it somehow works directly as an arc in your work. You're going to make a lot of work for yourself undoing whatever garbage piles up around you unless you work on focusing on the work. You can sit down angry, cracking your knuckles in an effort to prove something to someone, but once you get going, kick that shit out.

I know some of my readers are in a good place. Even better than the place I'm in on some comparative scale even. You can back me up or refine the idea I'm on then. This is going to be more for the inexperienced or struggling ones who just can't kick the melancholy of where they are as opposed to where they want to be or think they should be.

No one can promise you'll shine like a beacon and turn over all your opposition. In fact, when you do well, quite the opposite is a possibility. What you need at every point of time is the state of mind to keep going no matter how celebrated or vilified you are. Be the consummate hero (or villain) and champion your ideals. Don't worry about whether it's good or bad. It's very unlikely you'll unknowingly pass some point of no-return. Mastery is a slow climb and you'll always find places to change tact, to be more present in life or buckle down on neglected writing.

Only you can give you that state of mind. I know you have you. It's your certainty. You won't become disembodied and regrets are beneath you. Start now. Change now. Work now. Keep at it. Fall off the wagon, get back in. Build a better wagon. Burn the damn wagon and get a sexy Italian sportscar. A sense of humor and a creative view on your life? You'll need them. Now kick some ass and consider every new fan, every loved one who joins your cause a little more, an unforeseen bonus.

You have to earn it to appreciate it. You can't expect it, no matter how hard you work. A loyalty prize is a cheap win-- it feels DAMN good to win the unwinnable. 

COLOR-PORN TIME!

I know I'm driving some people nuts with my damn subtleties but bear with me. This is Ashe's color scheme. That is not the same white as Dinsch's. Ashe's hair is more of a cream-tinted white, as his is not the platinum of albinism but just a truly light shade of blonde with a warm yellow base (platinum is a cooler base, which is I leaned on a green base for Dinsch). I rolled the mouse to choose these so no cheap presets would do (although I was pleasantly surprised to see my 'discovered' white is alternately called Albany Paint Brilliant White so someone liked it enough to honor it with a name). I found this medium blue then desaturated it a bit so it actually feels warmer and less electric in brightness. In the story, Ashe's white/blue combo is noted by Rienna since her fiancé shared those traits although she insists that her fiancé's hair is even whiter and his eyes even lighter, so I'd have to hit the palette for him too, create distinctions that aren't just tuned to my insane eyes.
Ashe's eyes take on a true blue hue called cerulean (link only to avoid confusion), and the Crayola version is what I had in mind. 

Side note: Their actual cerulean crayon was my first color crush. I actually had one that was poorly mixed as a kid so the radiant blue sometimes streaked with flecks of deep green. Every time I used it, brilliant scenes of mermaids and seagulls and worlds where the sea and sky blurred together filled my mind. Sadly, I haven't found another with that magic since but it remains vivid.

As for Ashe, his character is almost irritatingly playful. Seemingly simple-minded and shallow, happy-go-lucky and content to follow but comfortable enough to lead. I needed his coloration to eliminate any hint of coldness, to mask the horrors of his past as much as his outer persona did. If anything, he is adaptable and even perceptive, allowing himself to be insulted or confronted, taking no offense to someone blowing off steam. He knows when to be serious, but it is also a shallow mantle, one he doesn't fasten on too tight and is keen to shed as soon as possible. He is black and white in one container, which makes him a truly interesting character to develop.

Now that Ashe had his runway moment, I'll sneak peak the next color-porn feature to come with... Night. Oy. I'm going to be a pain in the ass again, but he's the dark child of my heart and I'm going to have to justify my pain-in-the-ass distinctions again.

Are you the master of your workflow or is there a chip (or chunk) in your armor? Feel free to vent or brag below!

Monday, September 24, 2018

Focusing When You Can't Pay Attention

As someone who has always dealt with central nervous system mishaps, it always makes me crack up laughing when someone says they couldn't possibly accomplish as much as I do for lack of focus, inability to pay attention, however they phrase it. I'm high-functioning at best-- whether you throw a name at it or not, the symptom of 'lack of focus' is still a daily reality. I've gone over both my health challenges and creativity 'unblocking' techniques, even how I focus, but perhaps too safely-- ultimately I've neglected to honestly depict the tug of war that occurs behind the scenes. Although I'm flattered that I look to be so hardworking and productive, the reality is that it's only because I work in solitude that I can manage some semblance of focus and also have the ability to have emotional meltdowns without risking embarrassment or causing a scene.

Some people use meds to handle a more public life. If it didn't have a choice, I probably would too. I'm going to go ahead and assume you're already taking care of those individual needs since I'm no doctor and I can't possibly address all of those here even if I researched it. If you're minding your diet, getting at least two and a half hours of quality exercise a week, taking meds for your conditions, then you're already further ahead than I was when I had to build up to my current superpowers. I suppose I can't just assume it's common knowledge, but your creative health is dependent on your physical and mental health. You can't have one without the others.

The rest? It's largely about creating more healthy habits, these pertaining specifically to your goals.

1) Eliminate distractions.

Some of the things you've sworn are inspiration are purely distraction. That music that fills you with the valor of a Valkyrie. That favorite show that's given you great ideas for what you're working on. I do often work with my TV on, but it's also not the latest episode of a show I'm actively watching or even something particularly interesting. Usually low volume creates a pleasant white noise, but I keep the remote in reach to Mute as soon as I realize my ears are pulling towards it too much.

'White noise' is actually better creative therapy for some-- I personally love the sound of my fish tank filter running, a fan blowing, and the clock ticking on the wall. For some, the clock is way too indicative of passing time, too marked, so this isn't one I'd say is universal. I'm aware that some people can study to heavy metal/thrash music as well, but I'm sound-sensitive. Even my own choice of music is something I can only enjoy at certain volume levels depending on mood.

It's perfectly fine to get distracted, but if you often find that it's not producing anything outside of procrastination and feelings, then you need to note the risk and either substitute it with something more meaningful to your goals or just get rid of it. I like to work in relative silence most of the time. I do keep playlists of music without English words or any language at all but those are mostly something I enjoy on breaks rather than ever use while writing.

2) If you can't eliminate, turn it into inspiration.

Many of the sounds and sights in life are unavoidable but they don't have to terminate creative processes. I've raised my nephews so I know kids can be a big weight on how efficient you can work. It's VERY difficult to get into a flow state when kids seem to both have the worst timing and a need for attention, no matter how independent they are. There were definitely stages where creativity had to come in stolen moments until they were older. It was an odd mix of depressing and educating. I learned to become both patient and opportunistic.

Get your 'distractions' involved, however you can. Even if you're not writing kids' books, there are universal ideas and even fresh quirks that kids can offer your stories. If your neighbors are assholes, then maybe loud music is something you adapt to in order to drown out that annoyance. No matter what distractions must be dealt with, part of the creative process often extends beyond the work itself and is tested in how you handle life. You don't have to be 'normal' to work around what challenges you. Facing fears and doubts is how we drown them out. I'm never going to be comfortable in crowds but I do it anyway because, seriously, fuck all the things that stop you from what you really want in life. My ability to take risks is directly related to the very specific goal of why I'm doing it.

3) Admiration can be your key to turning passive planning into action.

When you tell friends, like me, that you admire me and wish you could do it, I'll almost instantly reply with 'you can.' Okay, maybe you can't have my exact level of talent nor reap the rewards of that hard work, but you already have something you can build from but you probably haven't actually tested it. I can 'do it' so it's not something only the neurotypical get to enjoy. Given, I could easily do so much more without it that I'd give it up in a heartbeat. It's not supreme focus that got me here. It's not pure passion that keeps me going. It's not even goals. I trained myself over time to change damaging impulses into productivity.

In the same way you can instantly turn the urge to party into calling up your friends to see who wants to go, you can start phoning up your mental desires. By all means, admire away, but don't just stay wistful over what you wish for. Seriously ask what it would take to do it. If it's not a hobby, start there. If it is, what would it take to take the next step? Pull out a notebook and crack open the web browser on your computer and start taking those advice lists and cherry picking what appeals. When your approach fails, there are tons more to pick next. As it turns out, some of those undesirable options from previous searches might turn into the one you love. I hated vector drawing when I first tried it. Now, it's one of my favorite ways to draw when my wrists act up.

A lot of people are overwhelmed by the idea of mastery. Mastery isn't about focus, at least not entirely. It's more often about flexibility. When the best tools aren't available, do you know how to work another way? What people most often admire is results. To get results, you often have to trudge through a lot of unconventional fixes to power through. The most flawless results are the product of great effort. People often admire what they aren't doing, but they'll develop an even greater admiration and appreciation when they actually try it for themselves. Being a mentor or involved in someone else's process is magical, but don't put your own efforts on the back burner too often.

4) Don't fixate on schedules.

You know I'm not fond of 'don't's but this is a big one, especially when you're first starting out. If you're not gifted with laser focus the minute you sit down, you might find it immediately frustrating when your mind goes blank. Go ahead and unfocus your eyes. If your brain just hums, well, I count that as blessing. At one time, I might have panicked when my brain did that, but it's also an intuitive form of meditation. Don't force thoughts into the space just because you decide it's time. Inaction is not an immediate sign of failure. If that's the part that doesn't sit right, remember Jack Torrence's carelessly typed 'all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy' in The Shining. If you need to get your fingers going, do it that way. Another idea-- don't have a clock in view or even in reach (my own ticking clock is not in immediate view). If you like to use alarms to time breaks or other priorities, keep it out of reach. Getting up to get it is a marker of putting your work down. Most computers have a customization option for turning off the onboard clock too. Even if you want to try a schedule method, there's no reason you should let time bully you into thinking you're taking up precious chunks of it. Trust me; once you get going, those brain fogs are going to be easily forgotten.

5) Stop when you want to keep writing.

You're going to need to take breaks or address unavoidable distractions at times. Keep a notepad or a note app handy at all times so you can jot down what you want to tackle when moving ahead, but keep in mind that lack of focus can happen even when the getting is good; more so when you've neatly wrapped up a big idea. Engaging focus can be largely solved by just wanting to continue badly enough. Do as many of the things you've discovered to be helpful in the past as often as you can.

But you can't put it down when it gets good! Yes, that's a discipline too. No one actually wants to, but I've found that even the most vivid ideas only get better when you can't get to them right away. However, don't let desire come in the way of taking care of yourself. If you keep putting that creative place first, your mental and physical well-being will degrade. Yes, mentally too. Because physical stress and mental health are directly related, not taking those breaks, not minding your body's need will bite you on the ass. Your metabolism can take blows that are difficult if not impossible to fix easily. I once crocheted so often that I developed a condition called trigger thumb. Because I thought I could handle marathon creative sessions, I ended up unable to use that hand for six weeks.

Carpal tunnel syndrome used to be a painful re-occurrence, but after wrist braces, corrective habits and mindful use to avoid agitating it, I can mostly forget it's there (on occasion, I agitate it by playing on a tablet too long, but if you've ever been hit by a carpal tunnel flare-up, there's no mistaking it and you immediately quit what caused it).

Don't wait until you have to stop. Don't always think that pushing it makes it better. I've read that there are actually only about 3-5 hours a day in which we are optimally productive (less prone to mistakes and on point). There's not a 'go' light on when it starts and being high-energy isn't an indication. High-energy can be restless energy so it's more likely to be a zen state you're looking for. Even then, if you can quit prior to a climactic point, the chances are higher you'll hit the ground running when you come back. Even if you've only written or worked an hour before you reach it. It's worth the risk to feel this one out.

6) Don't focus.

(Again, with the 'don't'...) Counterproductive? Maybe. What's the point? Getting to it. If in the middle of creative flow, you would rather jump ship to draw the cool animal you just thought of or you've thought of what would be amazing in some other story you're not working on, embrace it. I've come to firmly believe that discipline is not restricted to the one thing you tell yourself you should be doing (something I bring up over and over, I know). Restless moments sometimes require restless solutions. I have a yoga ball that I enjoy using as a desk chair on occasion. Useless for drawing, but I type rather well while bouncing. As far as drawing goes, I never see mistakes until I walk away from it several thousand times. Sometimes I see the big picture, sometimes I'm overly fixated on the weirdest details. The creative brain is meant to benefit from that volatility. Remember that you will have an editing phase. Editing has become my holy city. However, if you don't feel that way...

7) Do puzzles.

One of the way I've learned to organize my brain is to take advantage of visual puzzles. Jigsaw, brain teasers, word games, stacking-- doesn't matter which one, but these are all repetitive disciplines that you never solve the same way twice. Wasting a good half hour on puzzles is a phenomenal way to fake focus. This does tend to work better for women, but my grandfather is a huge fan of crosswords and my dad likes quiz shows. In order to trigger intellectual structure, the visual engagement is damn near a failsafe. Some writers do image searches to create inspirational collages, but even the most abstract sorting can stimulate a solid bout of focus.

I once had a college prep course that focused on what kind of 'learner' you are. While it's been flagged as a pseudo-science since (much like the Jungian based Myers-Briggs typing), some people often insist they are more auditory, visual, haptic, etc. I'm not big on listening so I can tell you that's not a strong suit, but most people respond splendidly to a mix of hands-on and visual, which is why puzzles are so useful. Even if your hand-eye coordination is abysmal, puzzle games tend to sharpen it due to muscle memory being linked to specific tasks.

Puzzles don't immediately demand a skill level and also ease you into a sense of accomplishment. Even when you absolutely can't solve it, you tend to mull over that problem. Learning the answer is something you rarely forget either. I can tell you the words I lost with in grade-school spelling bees-- if only because I was determined never to misspell them again. (Ulcer and whetstone, for the record-- not really common use words prior to middle school, but aggravatingly simple in retrospect.)

8) Be a tourist.

You could travel in earnest here, but this is more a nod to touching base with something more important than focus: being unsure in an unfamiliar place. It's a very stressful experience but one infused with excitement and possibility. When you think of the things you'd rather do but are repeatedly not doing them until you remember it randomly at three AM... It's time to travel. Think of those excited tourists not paying attention while snapping tons of pictures with the attention span of a squirrel. Let it be an exciting state of being. I realize this very much lines up with turning distractions into inspiration, but think of this as the next half step. Don't make this sentiment about focusing on work at all, simply gathering the experiences that make it irresistible to talk about it later.

I come across this time and again, but can't stress it enough. Productivity includes wandering. If you haven't heard Tolkien's famous quote 'Not all who wander are lost.' Even if you are technically lost, perception is more important. I wandered away from home when I was 3 years old. To panicked adults, I was lost, but I remember it differently.

I felt transient twinges of fear, wonder, curiosity, a sense of independence quite striking for a 3 year old. I still remember clutching the book (titled Snow) and my favorite My Little Pony in a patchwork sundress and puffing up as I passed Scary Tree. When I walked past it with Mommy before, I cringed and hid behind her leg, but this time all I had was my word-shield and trusty steed. Somehow, it made all the difference that day.

Find some moment of childhood curiosity. Use it to help you unlearn what productivity is. At some point, the things that formed you, that fed your imagination, were idle things. As a creative, you sometimes have to tour idly through your spaces, feel around in the dark before you turn it into a moment you can share. Creatives don't really have vacations. What might appear inactive is something we have to let people criticize for lack of understanding. Enjoy your secret smiles, sudden laughter and resting bitch face while you slip in and out of those thought processes you'll use later.

9) Do everything else.

You knew we were heading here; admit it. There is nothing more irresistible than doing something else intentionally when you actually can focus. Krista, seriously; I'm focusing and NOW you're telling me to play hard to get? Yup. Sometimes you know when you can take this risk, so go for it. On occasion, this perfectly envisioned scene only goes to nth levels beyond that when you dangle the carrot. I saved this one for last because this is something I'd save for master levels of discipline. It might take a really great day, a higher than usual energy level (again, energy isn't a sole indicator), but even a half hour of circling the prey can lead to a spectacular kill in your ability to focus. Deprivation is along the lines of absence making the heart grow fonder. Just don't push that muse too far. Another risk you must be aware of is that absence also creates the opportunity the other pieces may abandon you.

It's a process needing great care. How long can you fast before you trigger starvation? You don't truly know you've gone too far sometimes until the penalty hits. Whether you neglect focus or demand it too much, creating the balance is NOT about creating the ideals. People are groomed in modern times to fear things outside of their control and for people like me, it makes you very sick to try.

Control is an illusion. If you haven't seen the movie Instinct with Sir Anthony Hopkins and Cuba Gooding Jr., do this now. There are situations where control isn't possible and ramming your head into the wall doesn't make the wall crumble. You do have SOME control and it is over how you handle and respond to things, how you react to stimuli. Before I learned to balance diet, exercise, negativity, I was hypersensitive in none of the good ways. It's not control that made me better, but flexibility. I didn't restrict my diet, enforce exercise and sleep, etc. I based even that on its availability and probability.

---------

As a good friend of mine said, self-publishing is the way of the future. It's one way creatives are deciding for themselves how their work is most beneficial. Traditional may be experienced for a market, but self-publishing inspires those who work differently, shows that their methods might actually be more beneficial to the work itself. We learn to become entrepreneurs and can prioritize which aspects to handle ourselves or who to give jobs to. Like any option, it can and will be abused, but we are also giving readers more freedom to choose the content they want to see, free from the bullying of literary selection. Our focus is limited only by our choices.

That's scary too, for many people. That because these are our choices, we have only ourselves to blame. Personally, that's a huge breath of fresh air for me. In almost every instance where I was quick to blame someone else, I denied myself a valuable lesson in how I could have handled it differently. When some aspect of my work is not its best, people address me directly and it is something I can improve on. I don't just guiltily sit on my hands and say I have no clue/power to fix it or learn from it.

My blog posts can often be unfocused, but natural thought is hardly a neat and pretty process. Lists are about as close as you can get to reining yourself into the subjects at hand. Nothing wrong with not having some profound point. In most stories, we all latch onto very different aspects. I've read things that have rocked my foundation apart while others reading the same thing were unmoved. That's also a point on the subject of focus. Finding the focus of your story is not a linear path. You're not playing by the same rules of any other job and you don't need to satisfy the requirements of anyone observing you. Sometimes your ally in your fight for focus is embracing your inner squirrel.

It's stolen moments. And a lot of forgotten acorns that spawn many a forest.

Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Selfish

Me. I'm selfish. I'm proud of that because I'm not using it in the same vilified sense that it gets injected into an insult.

My work comes first.

Also something you're probably not getting the context of because I haven't established any. I'm not one of those people that lives to work and the 8-hour work day is not the most productive once you look into it. Sitting at a computer all day is also a bad idea. Those 10 minute breaks every hour where I seem like I'm idling or procrastinating (when I'd rather be writing or drawing)-- those are there for the sake of this ideal of actual productivity.

It's true enough that most days I spend about 10-12 hours easy on work but it's all spread out over my waking moments (and sometimes perched around a nap when I'm really failing at real productivity). I don't ever take real vacations, but I play pretend and intentionally use that infuriating little 'stay-cation' word with a shit-eating grin to show you I know exactly how annoying it is.

I raise my nephews. (Like a boss.) I walk two hours a day. (Like a boss.) I have a social life so rare, it's still mooing.
(Like a cow.)
It's cool. I love the little guys, I don't hate walking, and I also have the coolest most understanding friends who get what creativity entails. They've all seen my room and wonder what Narnia vomited its idea of interior design into such a small space. 'Selfish' is what it took to chase the dream, but I've sacrificed. I pray to the tech gods that my shit won't break because I'm pretty broke and nothing is easy to replace. I miss when I could just go ahead and call someone up because I'm bored and I want to hang out with someone. Most days, my head is so into what I need to do that I plan social visits just so I can be sure I'm actually present and NOT thinking about what's waiting at home.

Work comes first, but to be honest, first place isn't a static factor or at the least, a lot of things share it simultaneously. It's possible to feed a hungry nephew while daydreaming what I stopped writing about and it's oddly possible to have a conversation with them sometimes while drawing (although it's also very likely I'll let slip what I'm doing in PhotoShop instead of what I actually meant to say). It's not exactly the most coherent or fully present version of me but it's a compromise. There was a time I'm not particularly proud of where I'd yell at any interruption or use the possibility of being interrupted as an excuse not to work at all. My nephews are at least old enough now that they're polite about interrupting and even supportive of what it takes to do it.

Gone are the days of putting myself last. It's not just society that makes women feel like it's okay to be self-sacrificing in terms of domestic or nurturing instincts-- sometimes it just exists in us and it's something we have to correct if it doesn't align with our ambitions. Women are encouraged plenty to embrace their nature and we can access self-empowerment without permission so I never blamed men or society for retreating into instincts against my primary ambitions. I also don't regret not going to college sooner or being who I've needed to be to balance raising kids and still being a creative powerhouse. I don't pretend my life is harder or easier than it is and I own the ups and downs. I'm okay with not fitting into liberal or conservative boxes. There are more than enough breeders and homemakers and laser-minded career bitches, etc. Human survival is not at risk for lack of any type of person. I'm okay with swatting flies coming at all sides.

Women like Christina Hoff Sommers exist. Level-headed and self-possessed people who operate with integrity, who push ahead with a clear voice and infinite patience. We live in a country that doesn't quite understand that true acceptance is within and too often it's an outcry for more boxes and less actual freedom of choice for anyone. It's less about respect and more about power/control over strangers. Expectations for the world around you are becoming the greatest source of misery in a country that should actually be flourishing. Who we project ourselves to be is just as vital as who we are. I can't tell you how often I see people completely baffled that they aren't seen as good people because they have 'good hearts' when they actually aren't aware that outwardly, they're projecting their worst defensive traits rather than their ideal. You know, like the 'nice guys' that feel entitled to the world's most 'beautiful' women simply by virtue of having a penis. Lack of self-awareness and entitlement is an ugly trap.

I get how hard it is to be yourself and I'm going to deviate from my original topic a bit because this just in: sometimes people suck. Today, I had to be polite to a man I wanted to punch in the face. I was out walking and saw this guy ahead of me, so I didn't think much of it. I turned down a street and no one was behind me-- until I noticed a shadow picking up speed behind me. I was almost immediately afraid because it was the guy who had been walking ahead of me before but I smiled despite the urge to scream 'creep!'. Not only did I thank him (with clear reluctance and no smiling) when he said I was 'cute' but I gave yes or no answers when he was asking personal questions because the details weren't really any of his business, but I wasn't sure if it would be safe to look away. I hated it, but I also didn't know what kind of psycho I could be dealing with who thinks approaching a strange woman like this was okay. I kept trying to put my earbuds back into my ears in a nervous gesture to signal I didn't want to talk but instead he asked me if I wanted to make five dollars. I had no idea if this was about drugs or sex but I doubted he really thought I was 'cute' but just trying to flatter me into doing something I didn't want to do (and I was insulted that I looked like I'm hard-up for five fucking dollars, possibly). I sped up past him and still I could hear him trying to press me to change my mind. In my mind, all I could think was 'go the fuck away' and' please don't stab me'. Or worse. I wasn't entirely convinced broad daylight or even the risk of neighbors coming to my aid was a deterrent at this point.

I was never more relieved when he gave up, but for the rest of the walk, I kept looking behind me and I never really relaxed. I didn't go home though. I was angry and I didn't want this to mean I'd be too afraid to leave my own house. Look, anything can happen out there. I'm always aware of that. Because of that, sometimes we don't survive by being 'real.' We have to forgive ourselves for what we lose sometimes to see another day (or greet another day without the shame of regret for what we didn't do). There's no manual, and we can't 'have it all' but coming up with a strategy for self-acceptance and survival is worth it. Locking yourself up in safe spaces isn't going to keep you safe from it all either, so risks are necessary to properly understand what is worth trying for.

Writing and drawing, they have their ups and downs too. It can be maddening and isolating if you are able to lock yourself away into it. People see working up to full-time writing as some utopia but it can be abused to self-destruction too if you don't exercise boundaries with it too. You can have too much of a good thing. You can lose a good thing if you take it for granted. Such is life.

Enjoying selfishness is a responsibility, but one you don't have to feel guilt for. Regret? Now there's something that can haunt you. Before I learned that missed opportunities aren't always the end of the world, I knew the sting. It's also useless to let them stick around rent-free. Writing does give me a good place to channel them, but writing is also not about me. Once I pass the baton to a character or a story, it's not about telling my story (because some of it is just not that exciting)-- it's about telling their story and detaching from the consequences and triumphs alike. At some point, I'm just their completely useless therapist, cashing in on how well I turn their life into a book.

Benevolent. Selfish. Hard-working. It's whatever. Just do what it takes to like yourself.
I blame the cow with the incredible hair.