Fails, Successes, and Sacrifice

August turned into a month of ups and downs.
I started the month with high hopes of resurrecting New Earth Six, getting some new projects under way, and school beginning at month's end.
I even signed on for WeSeWriMo once again this year, setting myself an impressive goal which I spectacularly failed to meet, and  began a series of horror stories on Wattpad.
Let's get the bummer stuff out of the way:
*I wanted to catch up with NE6, planning to update the site and post at least 8 new chapters. I managed 2, on actual Fridays, though one was half-assed enough to demand a revision by the end of the weekend.
*Despite an excellent start, I haven't posted more to the horror story since the beginning of the month.
*I wanted to finish my Zombies vs Aliens novel, I have estimated roughly seven chapters to wrap up the story but, confession time, I didn't touch it once this whole blasted month.

Disappointment is better with cuteness

This month felt like a big fat fail in the writing department. If I am honest with myself, my writing had a lot of competition for my attention. Mid August brought my husband's pilgrimage to Gen Con,  the end result being an entire week alone with my children. No breaks, no free time, it is a week of exhaustion and exasperation. I love my children very much but, holy hell, I was ready to tear my hair out by the end. The third week of August, I finally landed a part time job to ease the financial pressure of the household. Not wanting to give up my much loved side job, I am now working two part time jobs, and work seven days a week.
I am not sure how long I can keep this pace, but the hours are what we need and the money don't hurt. It is not a stellar job, it's dry cleaning, but you do what you have to. The schedule is one my equilibrium is still adjusting to but I am able to throw my kid on the bus in the morning, spend a few hours with my toddler and hopefully some scribbling, before going in to work through the afternoon, coming home to make dinner and help put the kids to bed. It's not perfect, but it will do.

Despite all the crazy, I did manage a few successes.
*Can I just say, you get by with a little help from your friends? Thanks to some of the dazzling ladies I know, I snagged a new cover photo for NE6, and finally, FINALLY, have a navigation menu for the site that is absolutely perfect. My life is full of computer wizards.

Bam motha feckers!

*While I failed to meet my goals, I did start up NE6 once again after nearly a 8 month hiatus. I hope I can overcome the end of August hiccup it suffered and keep it going. I have big plans and tons of ideas for the story if I can keep the drive alive.
* I have had lots of new plots pop into my head, scribbling down ideas and scenes for new stories throughout the month. I have nearly 100 handwritten pages toward a new series.
I may not have been productive in the direction I wanted to be, but I have continued to scribble and keep those imagination muscles flexed. I hope the fall becomes a productive one *fingers crossed*

Finding my scribbles and inner fluff again...

If you couldn't tell, it's been a while since I posted. This does not mean I haven't been writing posts but when they started repeating the same gloom and doom I chose not to publish them. Truth be told, I have spent the last few months as a Slug, wallowing in depression and doubt. In general, I don't like to talk about my depression. I will write about it, but I keep the bulk of my gloom to myself. This time it was a double whammy of depression and my hormones literally being on the fritz, requiring meds to balance them back out. (Funny how once I got on hormone meds my depression started to level out. *sigh*)

The winter was not a good one. Aside from being mentally sick, I was physically sick repeatedly while dealing with some stressful revelations. Realizing I have no idea how I am going to pay my college loans is a biggie, while my son's official label of educational autism is expected but still feels like a punch in the gut. I pretty much stopped writing completely, even my serial as I sunk deep. I made a half hearted attempt to get back in the game around February or so but couldn't maintain the drive. I needed a serious kick in the pants to get out of this mental sinkhole.

So I went to Arizona.

Look, it's a cactus. *giggle*

Arizona had two big enticements. 1. I would have free room and board for my stay, courtesy of the Divine Ms. Angie. 2. It would be my first vacation, actual out and out vacation, without my children or husband in five years.

Myself and the Divine Ms. Angie atop Mt. Graham

Heading out west to see Angie had another big enticement. She is living her dream, with four published books under her belt. It has not been an easy road for her, but she is doing it and her drive inspires me. I have also had input on all four of her books, providing feedback on content. She is the one contact I have kept close with from my foray into grad school, and I am thankful we connected.



I flew out mid April, discovering over the rapid succession of three flights I do indeed get motion sickness. (blech) I spent roughly four days eating good food, sleeping in, seeing the sights, and generally relaxing. Angie lives at the base of Mt. Graham, which boasted several climates and one hell of a breathtaking view at 10,000 ft. I was pampered with my own bed, homemade waffles, and some of the beast Mexican food I have ever had. I even got to drink, guilt free, which is a rare treat in itself.

I don't often take food pics, but booze!

Apparently I am a pirate in my selfies

It wasn't a trip to the spa or an exotic location but it left me more relaxed than I have been in months. It also set some sparks going. It hasn't been easy, but in the couple weeks I've been back, aside from getting slammed with another massive stomach bug, I have felt the creative juices beginning to thaw. I have set myself up with a list of goals to work on and I have begun line editing again.

My biggest goal is to start up New Earth Six in full during the month of May.
I have a back log of ideas I have been scribbling down and bits and pieces I wrote here and there that need a little nurturing to blossom. Between editing and reading other people's work, I have made some leeway in editing Part 1. Goal number 2 is to finish drafting Zombies vs. Aliens. I am excited about this. If I can get this book finished and out, I have a small series planned for it.

The going is slow. I still have to push myself to accomplish anything every day. Some days are more productive than others, but I'm crawling out of my hole, hand over hand.

Climbing back on the horse

After stumbling along through the month of November, trying to do Nanowrimo *nope* and keep up with NE6 I smashed up against the brick wall of doing too much.

This was compiled with a non vacation vacation. My husband and I took the family to see the relatives who inhabit the Southern states. I remember packing my notebooks and laptop, thinking I would manage to get some writing done either in the car or perhaps in my parents idyllic Tennessee home.
*Nope*

I seem to somehow forget I am the mother of two hyperactive boys, one a toddler, the other borderline Autistic. None of the southern relatives have spent enough time around the boys to understand what we were bringing into their home. How they get into EVERYTHING. Of the three houses we visited none were M&G proof, meaning my husband and I had no time to ourselves. Over the entire week vacation we didn't even get to sleep in the same bed together, having to split the kids to get them to sleep each night.
Aside from the need for constant vigilance at each home, there was the hellish experience of long distance driving with carsick children. The first leg was the worst, as we discovered dramamine has no effect on the toddler, who vomited repeatedly, which I had to clean up repeatedly. By day two we worked out an equilibrium of rest breaks. However this made each car trip to a new destination longer...

The end result of our "vacation" was mind numbing exhaustion and body aches from a myriad of sleeping arrangements. I felt like utter crap when I got home, and had to muster the energy to review a book for feedback for a friend, which ate up another couple days.

Suffice to say, NE6 fell the the wayside. I have been late to post before, but never for more than a couple weeks. Today I am hoping to make up for lost time, post a nice long chapter, update some content and hope my readers can forgive the longer than intended hiatus ><

The Bookcase Challenge

My husband teased me the other day when I started squealing over a new book coming out.

"You have tons of books on you haven't read!"

He's right. It is one of my bad habits. Husbands are good at spotting those.
I have a book addiction. There are worse addictions, like crack, or hookers and blow. My book addiction is a complicated monster. I hoard books like there is no tomorrow, I own a lot of movies too but books take up the primary spot in our tiny household, overflowing from five (and a half) bookcases, two boxes and various flat surfaces in the house. There are piles of books on both our computer desks, a small library usually hiding in our car, piled up near the back door, and a tottering stack on the computer tower.
That's not counting the kids books.

My reading style is...odd. I often read multiple books at once, either because of my editing job or I need a break from an intense plot line. If I am into a book, I fly through it, if I struggle with a book, it takes me forever. I can put a book down for months and usually pick it up later right where I left off. But my book habit has a dark side, i.e. the hoarding. This problem really took off when I started working in used books. I couldn't do the same amount of impulsive buying working at Borders because then it would be like hookers and blow. Both the used bookstores I've manned gave me access to incredibly cheap books, add to that my habit of lurking in thrift stores and flea markets, I would bring home piles of books and forget about them.

I think subconsciously I was stocking up for the apocalypse or something (how appropriate) but I stumbled onto realization/ enlightenment when I finished reading a stack of books a friend let me borrow. I was searching for a palate cleanser and went for some good ole' YA by reading the newest series by Riordan. It was about halfway through rereading The Lost Hero when I remembered I owned the third book for a while now but had not read it. How long have I owned The Mark of Athena you ask? Well I picked it up when it first came out. about a YEAR ago. I've had it so long, book four comes out this week...

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

So here is to the Bookcase Reading Challenge. Excluding the new books by favorite authors, (because that is cruel and unusual punishment) I am going to begin plowing through the unread beauties on my groaning bookcases. It is time!

Muffin Manifesto

Too many posts have been me whining about my writing difficulties.
*Puts issues in a box*
*Smashes them with a hammer*
Yisssssssss

Fuck the downer mcdowner b.s. I shall divert my attentions and energies to doing something productive, and mildly economical. Baking.

I secretly love baking and cooking, I don't do nearly enough of it in my apartment because I not so secretly hate cleaning and our craptastic living space has no dishwasher. *HORROR*

Between the four of us, dishes have a habit of breeding fast and overflowing the counters in the blink of an eye. But in an attempt to save money, and satisfy my craving for baked goods, I have taken it upon myself to try and make a batch of delicious muffins once a week. I had the craving to bake hit me last week and made Chocolate chip muffins and Apple cinnamon muffins. Nomnomnom. It seems like an attainable goal, I have a horde of baking supplies plus there are two very good reasons to bake. 1. I have two muffin trays, so might as well use them. 2. Muffins.

/

Seriously?

So this morning, when the kids got me staggering out of bed at Crack of Ass A.M. I rolled up my sleeves and washed dishes. Once I had a livable kitchen space, I proceeded to make maple bacon muffins, which are as orgasmic as they sound. Of course, as I was putting the batter into the cups, my husband walked in the door with a box of donuts from Dn'D.

I told the bugger I was making them, but whatever. He can stuff his face with crappy pre-made donuts and I shall devour my delicious homemade muffins.

BAM!

Sometimes I wish for a yurt...

I love being able to work from home. Truthfully, it is not easy, some days motivation is miles away, the kids are clamoring and clingy and I get nothing done despite the internal and external deadlines looming over me. It's days like that I wish for a place to vanish to, somewhere separate from our messy distraction filled apartment.
I wish I had a writing hut, or a yurt. This actually exists, Neil Gaiman, who is a favorite writing celebrity of mine, has a writing hut. I am envious.

Look at this thing, it's freaking beautiful. I can just see myself foisting the children off on my husband as I slip away to my writing yurt for a day of relaxing production. I don't even need something this fancy, a simple shed would do, rough and rustic, as long as I could make it cozy like Mr. Roald Dahl's hideaway space here.

I could procure a mini generator so I have power, a space heater for winter, hole myself up in there and write for a few blissful undistracted hours. Alas, I must fight to concentrate with small hands reaching over the lap top screen, a little face craning over to see what noise my fingers are making. It's an interesting tradeoff. As much as I struggle to write/edit/ do anything computer based that requires actual concentration, I get to look up at the silly curious face of my son. It's frustrating and far from perfect, and maybe I will strive to own a yurt someday, but for now, I shall enjoy the opportunity to tickle my child when he leaves himself wide open, reaching over my computer screen.

A Gaming Vacation

Okay I'll admit it, this past week I have been nerding it up.

After a long but exciting summer of editing, writing and being with my two lovely but hyperactive children, I was feeling a bit burnt out around my birthday. So to keep my sanity intact, I invested in a MMORPG as a present to myself. For those not in the know that is Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game. Yes I spent a good chunk of years addicted to World of Warcrack, but since I resent monthly subscriptions, I purchased the one shot deal of Guild Wars 2 and dived into an intense play session. This was pretty much my version of a vacation, granted I will still play now that the week is over but I will split my time with other adult activities like my jobs, writing, home care etc.

Amazing game play, it's as epic as it looks ><

I came down from my gaming haze yesterday in order to finish my commitment to WeSeWriMo and conclude part 1 of New Earth 6 and send Malcolm off for his first day of Kindergarten *squee*. After this bloody long weekend of work (who the hell starts school on a Friday into a three day weekend!) the days will start to take on a rhythm since I will once again have just one munchkin over two. I will be able to devote more hours to editing and to finishing up some novels in progress as well as getting New Earth 6 out as an e-book and continuing the weekly saga. This morning I woke up to a glowing review on Web Fiction Guide, where I have listed my serial for a few months. It made my freaking week and had me blushing for a good hour. It also reinforced my determination to do an editing over haul for typos before putting up the e-book this week.

Big plans, big plans! September is going to kick off another busy month, but at least I have a new game to mess around with on those days I need a breather. Cheers!

Holy Shit I'm 28: Birthday Retrospect

"I wanted to buy a candle holder, but the store didn't have one. So I got a cake."

Mitch Hedberg

I'm not a birthday person, haven't been since I lost a parent a month before I turned 8. Something about death sucks all the fun out of the party. Twenty years later, I still associate birthdays with an odd bitter resentment. It wasn't until the last few years my outlook has started to change to something not so angst ridden. I think I now view birthdays with the same thought process I view New Year's. Birthdays have become synonymous with new beginnings, a time to reflect on the road thus far. 

This year has been a doozy, it was around my last birthday I was trying to pluck up the courage to run my life off its current tracks. I was working in a job I enjoyed but had no real advancement opportunity. I still might have stayed, I was in a bookstore, in my element, but there was the constant whisper. I wasn't satisfied with what I was doing, and I had trouble finding the energy to write after a long day of slinging books and caring for kids. I needed a change. By the end of summer I sat down with my boss and told him I was leaving, probably the scariest decision of the past several years. I had a few ideas of how to help support the family but there were two big driving forces behind the decision. One, I wanted to spend more time home with my children, and two, I wanted to seriously pursue writing. 

By November, I left my job of three years, started my oldest son in an intensive preschool program, aaaaaaand sputtered about. I'm not going to lie, the first couple months without work, I was in a bad way. I did not write ferociously, I tried and failed to get back into grad school (long painful story there), I became horrendously depressed and addicted to video games. I attempted substitute teaching and discovered I hated it, being thrust into a situation where the kids don't know or respect you, don't care about what you have to say, and treat you like crap is a special kind of misery. I respect anyone who sticks it out long enough to become a full blown teacher, because that is one hell of a gauntlet to go through. I managed to pick up a small shift at a local bookstore, one day a week, but it was extra income, got me out of the house, and kept me immersed in what I loved. 

By February, my husband began not so subtly prodding me to get another job, something, anything. This was not my proudest time. I was becoming a full blown recluse, I made a few halfhearted attempts to find work, trying to find something I could stomach. And I began working on the writing again, slowly dragging myself back into the process, amazed how awesome it felt to do so. It was during this month of slowly dragging myself back to the realm of the living, an idea took root in my mind, something I never tried before, something I wanted to do, to force writing into the spotlight. It didn't happen overnight, I chewed over the idea for a month and change before I sat down and penned my first chapter of New Earth Six. 

The end of March/ beginning of April is where this year really began to turn around. Once New Earth Six was up and running, I made it a point to write every day. No matter how unmotivated I found myself, I tried to do something. Don't get me wrong, some days I still did nothing, but the writing came easier, ideas began flowing again, and I felt motivated to do things again, even reading a friend's novel to give feedback. If you didn't know already, that decision lead to one of the best changes of my current adult life and definitely the high point of my year, when the act of helping a friend blossomed into a new job, once which makes me feel fantastic, it feels right. The summer also found me attempting some big commitments, writing wise, with the Clarion Write A Thon and WeSerWriMo. The results of both have been surprising and unexpected. The end of this month will also see another first for me, a big one, one I have been working years towards. I will definitely be releasing one title, the (short maybe?) E-book of New Earth 6 Part 1 and possibly (cross your fingers) another title I have been working on this summer. 

When I was young I used to day dream of becoming an author. I used to fantasize how I would be one of the rare people who published before they left high school. Looking back, I laugh and laugh and laugh at that dream. Writing is hard work, it is also a continuously changing and growing creature. My writing now is nothing like it was in high school (thank the gods) but for the first time since I had those dreams, I'm so close to seeing them realized, though with a humble perspective of the writing business and with a bit more wisdom than my teenage self possessed. 

In tribute to my gaming addiction ;)

Science Fiction, Double Feature, Picture Show

Sometimes aspects of real life feel surreal. This past week has featured a couple moments of "did that just happen?"

 

Nose Candy:

Thursday morning began as a typical day. After a night of restless tossing and turning, I woke with the kids shortly after the sun crept over the horizon. By the time the husband came home from work, I'd already manned the fort for a couple hours, and begged him for a reprieve before he retreated to the room for the day. This is our dance. My sleeping habits have grown progressively off kilter as of late, leaving me to negotiate for naps with Captain Third Shift, but I digress. I passed out only to wake up to the unholy caterwauling of our eldest, Malcolm, accompanied by the husband roaring my name. Stumbling out, brain about forty paces behind the rest of me, I find them struggling in the living room, Malcolm screeching like a banshee, limbs flailing, while his doting father attempts to peer up his nose. Uh oh. This can't be good. What has happened? Malcolm, in a moment of sheer brilliance has inserted a small piece of candy up his left nostril. Candy we have vacuumed our treacherous carpet for several times, but the bastards keep squatting in those wily fibers. It took our son five years to shove something up his nose, but he chose a winner. The candy was so small we could not see it, or feel it, to extract it. A call to the pediatrician revealed they didn't want to deal with it either, which left....the ER. Balls.

There is nothing worse than sitting in the ER with my son. Between his cat like attention span, utter lack of patience and the zero entertainment options of the facility, my morning was hosed. How much did I dread this visit? Enough to reconsider when he calmed down on the way out to the car. "It's candy," I grumble to myself, "It'll dissolve." But no, the doctor has warned we don't want that going through his nasal passage. Off to the ER we go. After a quick stay in the waiting room, (yay) we are lead to a sparse sterile exam room. After coaxing Malcolm through the usual vitals check in, we are left to our own devices, for an hour. There is nothing to distract my darling boy in this room. We sing, we play a few clapping games, I make animal sounds for him to identify (I can't imagine what the nurses are thinking walking by this closed room). This eats up thirty minutes.

With an inward wince I hand over my cell phone, letting him play with some inane app, watching the battery life slowly drain away. I let my mind wander, keeping his hands off the various expensive machines clustered in the corners. A doctor finally enters.

Malcolm's calm is a lie. Within moments, we have banshee revisited, in stereo since noise bounces like a sound stage in here. Despite an RN and myself pinning him down, the doctor cannot locate the sugary culprit. Their recommendation? They ask me to plug his nostril and blow in his mouth, hoping to pop it out.

What? I feel like I'm being punk'd. With deep reservations I proceed to perform this technique, (did they learn this from Looney Toons?). Malcolm rewards my efforts with a slobbery reverb, blowing back, as I realize I didn't brush his teeth before taking off for the ER this morning. The bloody doctors are chuckling at me, asking if I want to try again. Yeah, thrilled to. Because I'm a masochist I close in to try again, rewarded by a writhing fit of giggles from my son. Zero point zero results.

"Well, can't see anything, it will have to come out on its own. Just watch for drainage."
I want to throttle the lot of them. I want to throttle the pediatrician for sending us on this fruitless time sink. I want to throttle them all over again as they leave me waiting for another hour before realizing they haven't discharged us....

I don't know if the pain or the four hour ER visit has engrained the lesson into Malcolm's head. The end result of our migraine inducing visit was a day fully frazzled and exhausted, another vacuuming session of our carpet "tan treachery", and some lovely colored snot a day later. (Blue, if you're wondering.)

Bad Religion:

My husband and his mother are fighting again. It has been a slow build, the kind where you can tell he grinds his teeth every time she opens her mouth. I have stood, poised between them, my feet on shaky ground for years now. Without the kids and my attempts to bolster some kind of relationship between the family, I wonder if he would have dealt with her at all. While both of them have individuals issues, my husband and I can usually talk through and solve the problems between us. The mother- in -law uses religion.

Disclaimer: Religion in general is one of those hot button topics. I have many opinions on the subject, but I am open minded when it comes to religion as a whole. Religion, itself, is not bad, it comes down to the individual. To me, religion is a guideline, a moral code to live by. I respect religion, I respect faith and beliefs, I will not tell you your faith is wrong, or sneer at your belief structure, and I expect the same courtesy in return. My relationship with "faith" as a concept is complicated and could fill a whole post on its own. I am gratified to have many excellent examples of religious people in my life, people who I respect for their faith and beliefs. Sadly my mother in law in not one of them.

Why? Here is spark which lit the five alarm fire:
She has refused to help watch the boys while my husband participates in his gaming activities because the gods in his game represent false idols and are trying to lead him astray, down the path to hell.

My husband tried, he listened to her view point. He tried to explain it was a fantasy game (legend of the five rings) and he does not believe these gods exist. He even took the approach of people worshipping various faiths around the world. Her response was unflattering to anyone not of the born again Christian faith. He argued it was fantasy, made up, not real, but she refused to budge from her stance. When he countered she reads fantasy, she responded with "only Christian authors."

We are big gamers in this household. We both play D&D with our circle of friends, various RPGS and video games. Now our relatively innocent lifestyle is being snubbed by a case of bad religion. I have trouble taking her serious. I am also pretty freaking insulted. Yes, my husband is going to be out of town for his nerd convention, but I asked her to watch our children so I could go to work, not flaunt my pagan ways with a rousing session of dungeon crawling, worshipping the God of Thieves. This development in her faith is unsettling and is a recent mutation. What's more disturbing than her off the wall judgment is she doesn't believe us when we tell her we don't believe in these fantastical false idols.

I find myself between a rock and a hard place. Is there a manual to deal with this? I do not want to shut my mother in law out of the lives of her grandchildren but do I want to expose them to this kind of behavior? The fact this whole zany issue has driven a wedge into our family is uncomfortable, as if my skin is too tight to breathe in. I still have trouble believing this argument was real, that someone actually thinks this way. I guess I shall go back to writing my speculative fiction and further cement my place in hell.

So Much Time So Little to Do....Wait

Universal truth: There is never enough time.
I have been struggling with this feeling for the past two weeks. Every time I attempt to work on a task, be it housework, taking care of the kids, writing, working, this consuming feeling of needing to do everything at once is sucking me down.
I'm not sure if it's a matter of simple time management. I set aside so many hours in the day to work on a certain task, trying to find a balance for everything, but it seems like one or more facets of my life gets neglected, chores pile up, my writing becomes harder to focus on, my social life goes right out the window. It's this that or the other thing. There are never enough hours in the day to accomplish all the tasks I wish to. I know I'm not alone in this feeling, it plagues most grown adults.
I think I'm still trying to get my sea legs. This feels like a new phase in life, coming at warp speed, I'm losing sleep trying to keep my feet under me. August is going to be a difficult month but the rewards I seek to attain will be worth the struggle. I am finding a rhythm with line editing, it can still be time consuming, taking apart someone's work to create something better, stronger, new, but I think this is the most gratifying job I've ever had.
With my own work, the end of August will hopefully see the completion of the two novels I've been scribbling away at, and finishing the revisions of the YA Novel. August will also conclude the first part of the serial blog, and my participation in Web Serial Writing Month.

I will be juggling work with kids, Malcolm will be home for the month of August so I'll need to arrange time out and about for the stir crazy boys. Tim will be traveling to gen con for the better part of a week mid month, leaving us by our lonesome, and me juggling the jobs, the kids, and the homestead alone. The end of August also marks my birthday, another year older, and perhaps wiser. Here's hoping I survive to see it!

From: http://www.designformankind.com/2012/12/an-optimistic-planter/

Then and Now: Pitfalls and Successes

The Pitfalls:
When I left my previous employment back in November of 2012, I had big plans. This was it, I told myself, you are going to finish editing your novel, submit it, write or bust!
Yeah 8 months later, edits on the Novel are crawling along. I spit out a redone chapter every few weeks. There are 5 chapters left to edit out of the book, but each one is pulling teeth. I need to finish the overhaul to do something with it, so I have incorporated it into my summer goals.
Back when I started this blog in April, I think my second entry was about seizing opportunities, like having enough income to pursue writing for a few months. It felt like the very next day my husband turned to me and said "We need more money." Further proof you should never open your mouth when you think things are good.
If I hadn't spent my first months of self employment floundering about trying to find a direction, things might be different. It didn't happen like that. On top of battling some pretty severe depression, I was pretty rudderless for a while.
Finances and emotions haven't completely leveled out yet. Some days are better than others, but I feel I am in a much better place mentally than I was six months ago.

The Successes:
This morning my web serial reached 1,000 views.
New Earth 6 now receives a steady 100 views a week. I have learned a great deal about the web serial world. It is hard to establish an audience in this format, you need to be consistent with your posts. In retrospect, I was so eager to get started I didn't consider all my options when it came to platforms and publishing choices. I learned how to advertise a web serial. You have to mention it a lot, not just to friends and family, I advertise on four different websites and link each chapter to face book and twitter as I put it up.
To me the biggest success with NE6 is not just the views, it my continued commitment to posting it. New Earth 6 was a risky endeavor and a huge step for me as a writer. It's challenging, pumping out a chapter each week. Some weeks I do write, edit, and post on Friday. Not the smartest way to go about it sure, but I spend all day working on it to make sure it gets done. It's not polished, it's not perfect, but it's mine and I've stuck with it. I've put myself out there.

Entering a Write-a-thon reminded me I have very supportive friends and family.
I am tearing up as I type this. It is so hard to gain perspective through the tunnel of depression. You become so mired down in your own self doubt you miss the hands reaching to help you out. This is the first time I've done something like this, I don't know if I'll be able to do it every year, but I think it's what I needed to do. Not only has it kept me writing every day, friends and family rose up with financial and verbal support, cheering me on, sponsoring my fundraising efforts, reminding me "We'll here, we're backing you all the way."

Becoming a freelance editor: I know more about writing then I give myself credit.
 I am far from a perfect writer. I make tons of mistakes drafting like everybody else, I often miss mistakes when editing my work, I am plagued by the sensation I've missed something every time I post a chapter of NE6. It's the perfectionist side of my writing self, I think it's the side which holds me back the most.
I do have a decent eye for detail. I have a knack for story crafting, I can see a story's bones, and point out what needs mending. These past few days I rolled up my sleeves and dove head first into the deep end of the editing pool. This is my first paid editing gig, so I've been pouring myself into the effort. Line editing is a bit like sketching a map as you walk along, it takes longer detailing everything from eye level than from an aerial view.

It's been a season of heady changes. I hope the trend keeps upward. It all comes down to commitment and effort. All my successes have happened because I put the work into it. Now I just need to keep it up.

Surprising Opportunities

First, not only hit my $$ goal for the Clarion Write-A-Thon, but sailed on past. $330 as of today, WOWZER! I am blown away by the generosity of my friends and family, seriously I'm tearing up at how supportive they are. What does this mean for artistic endeavors? Well one of the prizes in the write-a-thon is:

• Writers who raise $250 or more are entitled to a free story critique by a Clarion alum (our choice).

I have no idea what this entails, but Clarion has a reputation for excellence which gives me hope of receiving some punch drunk feedback.

Awhile ago I posted about reading a friend's book with intent to give her feedback. Little did I know the windfall from helping a fellow writer with her creative pursuits would lead to an opportunity of sheer awesomeness!
She shared my feedback with her publisher, who was apparently impressed with my attention to detail.
S.M. and I have gone back and forth with our financial woes, so when we came up with the idea of seeing if her publisher would possibly be interested in hiring me for freelance editing, well, it turned out better than I expected.
Within a day of broaching the idea, I had an email in my inbox starting up the conversation. The next day, I had a book in my inbox waiting for edits. BAM, that fast I went from rudderless to being handed a key to the factory.
I've been tinkering with the idea of freelancing for months, with no idea how to start, what to charge, who would hire me. Starting up a Freelancing business takes time, you need to get your foot in the door, build a clientele list, etc. Between my own writing, the boys, and the part time job I didn't see myself being able to start up any time soon. So landing a best selling Sci-Fi/ Fantasy author and his protege as my first client, Hachi Machi. I'm excited, they're excited. Everyone's excited!
Between this and the boost of generosity I've received through the Clarion write-a-thon, I feel the gears of fortune slowly shifting in my direction. To land a job in the field I went to college for: dream come true. I'll be reading and writing for a living. Just keep on trucking along.

Beating the Summer Slump

I love my children, but nothing kills my writing drive like school letting out for the summer. I go from being able to write on and off most of the day while taking care of the 1 year old, to squeaking in time between the two of them. If I'm not too burnt out by the end of the day, I try to write before collapsing in a drooling heap on the bed.

While I have the relief of a summer school session to look forward to, making sure my eldest gets out of the house regularly and with friends, I must find ways of getting over the hit to my writing the heat season brings.
So instead of simply relying on my own gusto in the hopes my 'go for it' attitude gets me going, I've signed up for Write-a-thons! Two to be exact.

Clarion, the excellent resource/support network of the sci-fi/fantasy community hosts their write-a-thon for the next six weeks through the month of July. This one is intense, it's goal is to raise money so they can keep running their yearly workshop, which I hope to apply for next year.

http://www.clarionwriteathon.com/

Here's my own personal jobbie:
http://clarionwriteathon.org/members/profile.php?writerid=599895

I'm aiming high, setting myself some pretty hefty goals, a tri-fecta of editing, creating, and up-keep. It's a do or die summer, I'm finishing the edits on the novel, creating as many new chapters for the novel in progress as I can manage, and continuing posts for New Earth 6. Whew!

Aaaaaand once the Clarion Write-A-thon comes to a close, WeSeWriMo starts up immediately.

 Heard of NaNoWriMo? Same concept except this one focuses on Web Serial fiction, and it's a perfect kick in the pants commitment to keep me working through the blazing heat of August. This one is hosted by Epiguide, one of the heavily populated web forums for all things E-serialized.

I'm aiming to make this a productive summer, one way or another. If I can take the plunge and commit myself to these big projects now, hopefully it will string me along no matter how zany the kids drive me.

Hunting for Crumbs

It seems I've been heading in about nine directions lately.
Maybe it's anxiety over finally finishing a project I've been working on so long, money worries, lack of sleep, whatever. It's a big blobby mass of Ugh.

Focus issues aside, I've been foolishly throwing around the idea of creating another serialized piece of fiction for Jukepop, which is an awesome platform for those who write serialized fiction since you have a chance to get paid to do it. BUT, there is always a but, it is kind of it's own entity, they usually pay for unpublished work rather than published, so while I might gain more audience points for New Earth 6, I might not get paid for it. Plus, call it a hang up, simultaneous submissions make me uncomfortable.

Throwing my work out there is hard. It's not like I'm a delicate flower who will wilt under criticism, it's just hard to put myself out there. I think I fear the idea of No Interest over Negative Interest.

See here I am losing focus again. Thinking of Jukepop and what I could do with it, I wondered if I could produce another story worth serializing. I have lots of ideas buzzing around the noggin, but I wasn't sure if I was up to spinning a whole new universe while trying to edit one book and write another.

This morning I found myself opening the closet to yank out my binders of old scribblings.
I have mixed feelings about writing I did years ago. These are stories I penned before I really understood things like plot points and world building. It's a bit like throwing a bucket of paint on the canvas rather than using defined strokes.

It's cringe worthy, there is stuff in these binders I don't remember writing, or hope I was in an alcohol fueled haze or something. High school angst haze? Anyway I save these shuddersome pieces for two reasons.

One: I like to occasionally pull them out when I'm feeling particularly unmotivated and say "See, look how far your writing has come! Now get back to the computer, you sloth, and type faster! *whip crack*"

Two: Times like this. Then I go hunting for Crumbs. Crumbs are ideas that flashed through the brain over the years but I lacked the time/skill/resources to fully realize them. I hold onto them because I know someday I will find a use for them. I found my Crumb after an hour of flipping through the deluge, a short novella I wrote freshman year or so of college.
The story is meh, but it's not about the writing. The writing will be stripped away, I'm after the bones of the piece, that's where my Crumbs are.

Now it' s a matter of balance and priority. I am teetering on the edge of taking on too much at once. There is just so much I want to do, but I must create an order to do things, or POOF, up in smoke I'll go. I may have unearthed my Crumb but it, and Jukepop, may be cast on the back burner until one project is off the table. Perhaps forcing myself to slow down will inspire my focus. If I complete something, I can reward myself with this.

Recharging

After a burnt out spell of watching the boys all weekend without reprieve, yesterday I took a recharge day. With the fabulous Miss V in tow we caterwauled around our tiny corner of CT. We hit up our favorite used bookstore, dined in cheap and snazzy style, even stumbled onto the glory that is Five Below.

Miss V. is not impressed by Five Below like I am.

Honestly, it's a glorified dollar store, only slightly nicer since the limit is a fiver. They have cheap fun t-shirts, toys, seasonal junk galore. I love this kind of stuff, I am a thrift store beast by nature, with the occasional indulgence of Angry Bird pajama pants from Wally World. But I am a bargain hunter born and raised, my home town boasted a huge Flea Market in a two story mill.

My thriftiness is probably exacerbated by my hatred of clothes shopping. Aside from the fact I have to shop in the plus sizes whenever I walk into a clothing store (I am tall and curvy), the clothing racks at thrift stores are based off older sizes, therefore I don't have to buy an XXL t-shirt just to fit over my bahzangas. Plus you find some pretty cool shit.

So yeah, Five Below is totally my bag. I "splurged" on a Mario t-shirt, because it hit me right in the childhood. As I perused the rest of the store I thought "I could totally do my Christmas shopping here."

After a day of thrifty discovery, inane debates on the merits of the New Avatar cartoon vs the Old Avatar cartoon, discussions of world politics and social structures, and delicious foods, I call this recharge a win win. You don't realize how much you need them until you schedule one in.

Don't Panic!

Everyone needs that one friend to smack them upside the head when they start sabotaging themselves. I have a few friends who gladly smack me around from time to time but my grounding totem would have to be the fabulous Miss V.
V. and I have just enough in common and just enough differences between us we have cultivated a pretty solid bond. I don't see her nearly as often as I would like, or should, since I tend to hide in my writing cave tweaking on too much caffeine. It's not easy getting together, we both have kids, husbands who work lots of hours, the other various bull shit that crops up on a daily basis. But when I feel myself panicking over, well everything, I make the time.
V. is a massage therapist, a professional herbalist, and probably the most chill human being I know. She is the perfect person to dig into my tangled mess of panic, find the root of the problem and show it to me.
What am I panicking about this time? Oh the usual, I have loaded my plate with too much, so determined to pursue the writing thingy I forgot I am only human and need things like sleep and sanity. Having a coronary over student loans rearing their ugly head, and trying to potty train a very difficult learner while maintaining several writing projects is making me lose sleep at night.
V.'s response: Well, which project is the most important, what do you want to finish first. The rest can wait.

The rest can wait.
It's a simple answer but one I often forget. One a lot of people forget.
From this I take away : Don't worry about what you can't help, just focus on what you can.
Sounds proverby and stuff.

So the solution, aside from maintaining NE6 (which is a given, this project is what I fall back on when I can't stand working on edits anymore) I can shove everything else off and concentrate editing The Novel. If I can do that, maybe I'll actually meet my goal to submit for pub this summer.

Some advice to pass along to fellow writers, or really anybody: Everybody needs someone like Miss V. in their lives, the person who can give you perspective on life you can't see yourself. It could be your parent, a friend, a spouse, it doesn't matter. What's important is to have someone to turn to when you start miring in your own personal swamp of despair. Because the perspective they give you can turn that swamp into a puddle in seconds flat. Okay, that's enough metaphor for today.

Now if you will excuse me, I've got some scribblin' to do.

Ninja Lazy Days

Gives self deadline: Finish editing "The Novel" by the merry month of June

Self says: Fuck this, fuck that, fuck everything!!!!

I got a shuriken, right in the kidneys. After a discouraging editing day, I have sunk into procrastination territory. I turned my precious chapter into an inky mess of corrections. I think I salvaged three sentences out of 13 pages. Now it's mid afternoon and the only thing I've managed to do with my novel is sneer at it from across the room.

Ah, I thought it was so clever when I first wrote it, it's amazing what wine and post midnight creative sessions will do to your brain.

Today has turned into a sneaky lazy day. I even cyber stalked face book this morning. This is what avoidance drives me to do!!!! <----Using multiple exclamation points, a sure sign the insanity has set in.

Yup I got tons to do, free lancing jobs I'm trying a hand at, edits to type up, NE6 post to write, etc, etc, so on, so forth.

I think I'll watch some anime >.>....<,<.....I'll find some motivation somewhere.

Well I shall just put this here then...

When not stringing together another NE6 chapter or editing "The Novel" I have spent an unhealthy amount of time traipsing the net.

Blogger seeking Network.

Dat's me.

It's a bit of a learn as you go process. I guess I could have bought some guide to attaining the internet audience, but I am cheap and it has been fun bumbling along on my own. Half the time I just stumble onto neat sites that have nothing to do with what I'm looking for. 

I guess the ye old proverb rings true even in the asinine environment of the internet.

"Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination." 

It has been a tricky search, something I don't know how to go about, but building a network is important, a survival tactic of the internet, you never know which site you throw up a profile on will be the site that gains you page traffic. The trick is to find as many places as possible to leave your mark. 

The internet is like a vast organism, a living breathing hive covering all pockets of the globe. There is no distance between people on the internet, you are tethered to a person halfway across the world on an electric signal. 

Courtesy of www.hungamapoint.com

How have we not eradicated cancer yet, we made the freaking internet!

In all seriousness, networking the sci fi blog has been frustrating, but it has also solidified my commitment to keeping it going. I hit 300 views yesterday, no a huge number, but it was enough for me to go "Squeeee!" followed by "Shit, I need to keep on top of this motha now." 

Armed with evidence my feeble attempts at networking are slowly but surely paying off, now I have to suck it up and learn to Tweet. 

My Mother, the Hole in My Heart

I have struggled with this post for days.
It concerns a very intimate pain in my life, one that has shaped the person I am today. It's emotionally intense, consider yourself warned.

Mother's day has always been a holiday of mixed feelings. Now with two children of my own, this emotional mess has reached critical mass.

The summer I turned 8, I lost my mother to organ failure. Her death was sudden and slow in the same breath, she grew sick and passed within a week, her final days spent in a hospital as her body stopped working a piece at a time. It was a terrible reaction to a pain medication, it blind sided our family, leaving behind her husband and daughter.

My memories of this time are fractured and nightmarish. I remember the night my father came home, awake to hear my uncle's girlfriend ran past my room sobbing.  I crept down the hall to find her crying in the dark guest room and when she pulled me into her arms, I knew. The revelation punched a hole in my heart, I just lost one the most important people in my life.

Grief is a tangible presence, it hangs over you, clouding your personal light, and it's form and focus shift as you grow older. At first, her loss drove a spike through me, I ached for her down to my bones. It wasn't until I went back to school the anger hit. Kids can be unintentionally cruel. Ignorance and unease can also make them incredibly mean. In the space of a month, I became an outcast, the crybaby, something was wrong with me because I had no mother. My peers did not know how to react to this, they lashed out with cruel words and cold shoulders. Hurt and Anger stayed with me for a long time.

My father met the woman who is now my step mother when I was 10 years old.
In retrospect, the relationship to my step mother is a complex tapestry we have spent years piecing together. She had grown two children of her own, and while it's rather easy to graft a new spouse onto an established family, it is far more difficult to add a younger child into the mix. The difficulties I had in forging a relationship with my step mother fall on both sides of the fence. I don't want to talk about them. I have dwelt on the bitterness and resentment that bled from my attempts to form a maternal bond with my step mother long enough. I will be 30 in two years and I still call her by her first name as often as I allow myself to call her 'Mom'.

I do call her on Mother's day, of course I do, despite our struggles and pitfalls, she has been a crucial part of my life, and she pulled my father from the dark pit my mother's death put him in. I will always be grateful to her for the love she has given my family.
But I know I do not have that maternal bond with her. It is a bond I have sought my entire life. I see it in the strong friendships I have with older women in my female circle, trying to fill a hole that feels bottomless.

My memories of my mother consist of her absence more than her presence.
I remember all the times I spent crying on the floor of my bedroom, wishing for nothing more than her arms around me. I remember milestones in my development where I needed her advice desperately. Health class aside, it took my years not to view my menstruation cycle with shame. How do I deal with crushes? How do I deal with cliques, and still be myself? I remember her not taking pictures of me when I attended my first dance, of her not warning me to be safe with my dates. I remember her not being at my high school graduation, or my college one.

I remember her not being there to see my babies when they were born.
But my greatest heartbreak, is I cannot remember her face.

I am afraid I will have trouble keeping a maternal bond with my children as they grow older, or that my bond with them is defective. I fear dying on my children. I cannot dwell on my mortality without dissolving into a shuddering bundle of nerves. I refuse to let these fears take over the memory of my mother.

Her loss is a pillar of my personality. You may not consider this a positive thing but I have come to see it that way. My mother encouraged my imagination and creativity until the end of her days, my imagination has become my solace, my power. From my imagination, I drew the strength to survive. I became a storyteller, a weaver of destinies, taking life into my inked up hands. From the loss of my mother, I became strong through struggle, hardened by adversity. I am still a weeper, I cry when I am angry, but I will survive whatever you throw at me. I have pulled myself out of deep depression over and over because my mother gave me a fierce will to live. Her loss has made me treasure each female friendship I have, they may have not filled the hole in my heart but they have formed the bandage over it. Even with great distance between us or swamped by the busy chaos of day to day living, I think of my ladies all the time.

Mother's day, truthfully any holiday, draws out the contemplation of the woman who gave me life, and whose absence I keenly continue to feel. My children are still young and I know they will grow up feeling the love of my husband's family, and my beautifully imperfect sewn together family. They will call my step mother 'grandma' and I am confidant she will love them as fiercely as she loves her other grandchildren. And as I sit here, typing with my son asleep against my chest, I know under all those irrational fears I have of being a flawed mother, I will be perfect for my children.

Someday, I will sit my children down and tell them the story of their other grandmother, the woman whose absence has become a presence in itself. I will tell them of the woman who shaped and influenced the person I am even though she couldn't be there.

My mother is a hole in my heart. It's been over twenty since her passing. This hole has never closed. Year after year, I have slowly filled this hole from the bottom up with memory, tears, dreams, love, and hope. It's not full yet, I don't know if it ever will be, but it is a part of me, a part I have finally accepted for the negative and the positive.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

“Didn’t you get tested?” A Rant, A Cry, A Hope

“Didn’t you get tested?”

There are so many things I could say about this article. As a mother whose son has been labeled Development Delayed, I actually broke down in tears reading it.
Whether you agree with genetic pre-screening or not, this speaks to a much darker issue in our society. I have often asked myself if I could terminate a pregnancy if I knew ahead of time my child would have down syndrome. To my knowledge there is still no test to screen for autism, since most forms of autism do not clearly manifest until the child is over a year old. I am a strong supporter of reproductive choice and rights, so it comes down to personal choice. For my answer, no I couldn't do it, I would have the child and shower it will all the love I do my other two children.
But what really bothers me about the whole issue, is

"Why has it become so agonizing to bring a down syndrome child into this world?"

We treat down syndrome like it's something shameful of, to pity the parents who have been "burdened" with raising mentally handicap children. To that knee jerk response I say "What the Fuck, society?" Why don't you put all that judgmental b.s. into improving the quality of life for all people with mental handicaps. People with D.S. or Autism are still people. If you judge these people based on how they were born, or their parents for "bringing them into this world", then you have just quantified a human life, their life is worth less than a 'normal' person.
Genetic perfection through elimination. Remember that Holocaust thing. Whoa, now,that's a little extreme, right? Perhaps, but remember, Hitler's plan was not to simply eliminate the Jewish people, they were just a part of the target population. He wanted to eliminate everyone he considered imperfect, which included physical and mental handicaps. He considered these people less than human and killed millions upon millions of people to achieve Genetic Perfection.

Fuck genetic perfection. Hey science, I know you are gung ho about solving these problems before they happen but this is what I want to see. I want to see science unlock the brain, the organ at the root of this issue. A true challenge, figure out how to rewire the brain around the neural pathways of D.S. Of all the organs in our body, the brain is the most complex, the hardest to understand, the organ that is incredibly difficult to repair and is so very easily damaged. We understand a great deal about our bodies, much more than we did even fifty years ago. Who knows, in another fifty years, perhaps science will access the huge percentage of our brains we don't use, find a way to cure autism and D.S. in adults. We have ways to give sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf, is it so big a leap to heal the brain? I, for one, would fully support that research. Need stem cells? Do it. If parents feel their only options are to abort a fetus or subject themselves to a lifetime of assholes, then I feel we have shoved science in the wrong direction. And we have seriously gone off the rail of what we should be as a society.

My son and I have difficult days. We are currently trying to potty train him, a task filled with many tears and frustration. My son constantly babbles, and it is hard to get him to string three words together. He still needs help dressing some days, and often doesn't listen. I feel like I lose my temper and yell at him too much. But...
He loves to sing, he gives these full body hugs, tucking his head against my neck, and sweet little pecking kisses on my lips. He still comes to me for comfort when he hurts himself, and loves to be read to. He has memorized several of his favorites and tries so hard to read along. Yes we have our difficult days, but if I had the choice to go back, I would still pick him every time.