EW

Ramblings on writing, crafting and life.

We have employment success!!

Yes, you read right. M has been successful in the westward-ho! job search. He’ll be working in Anacortes, and we’ll be looking in that area, or Skagit valley for a place to hang our hats.  I’m so happy to be past the “waiting intentionally” portion of the program. I really suck without answers, timelines, or at least some kind of clue. Nebulous – someday, kinds of time tables mess with my equilibrium.

I’ve come to several realizations while he’s been away. Paramount being, single parents deserve medals. Big ones. Shiny, brilliant, expensive damned medals. Who knew taking one person out of an equation would create so much….havoc? You did? Well hush it. I didn’t. I’ve not edited a single page since he’s been gone. Nor written a word. I start each day with good intentions of getting to it. By the time I’ve got them all abed, I’m the mental equal to a bowl of oatmeal. Sad, tired, day-old oatmeal, a wee bit congealed and hard about the edges.

Ahh well….this too shall pass. On to step one of the “40 step plan” as M has dubbed it.  That’s allright. Steps I can do.

But little to no writing.

M is gone. 9 days today, not that I’m counting or anything. I’ve spent a lot of time on ravelry.com . If you are a knitter, crocheter, spinner, weaver…hell nearly any kind of fiber artist, this is a place to visit. It’s an amazing resource for information, patterns, and community. I love it. If fiber floats your boat and you haven’t yet been there…Go. Now. Hurry.

I started a Knit Along project. My first sweater! Granted I’ve only made it to the first buttonhole, and became inexplicably stymied by the entire thing. I think I’ve just had a difficult few days. I’ll post pics as the thing progresses. I’m loving the yarn though, Cascade 220 Heathers in a gorgeous purple/black twist.

I’m also at the point of debating on the merits of a massive de-stash before moving. Keeping only those really precious yarns to move. Or just keeping it all. Its just yarn. Doesn’t weigh much right? RIGHT???

Apparently I had the idea that editing this book would be easier than writing it. I am not sure where I got this idea. But it has reared its ugly head as I start fumble my way through the first changes.  And like a scene from one of those submarine war movies, my internal lighting has gone ominously red and the strident gonging of an alarm resounds.  Error! Error!

I find myself recalling the days of “blank page freeze” and “Gakk! Its a new chapter! block” longingly. I cant be sure how much of this is a function of fact. Is editing a piece youve written REALLY more difficult than writing it in the first place? Or complete delusion; Part of me believes that I am always wishing I was doing whatever Im NOT supposed to be doing. Grass…greener… you get the picture. Either way I need to get some kind of flow going lest the editing takes another 6 damned years.

Im sure that all the stress doesnt help. M is leaving Tuesday. At least that is the plan at this point. Too many things to dither and fret over.  Will the kids be able to handle his absence, or will they dissolve into puddle of misbehavior and angst? Will he find work before our funds run out? Will he find a place that we can all be comfortably and affordably (animal included)? Will I sleep – at all – while he is away?  Will I finish the editing, and if I do will anyone want to read, much less buy this thing? Yada yada yada??? Sounds like an awful lot of whining, doesnt it?

Thank you, dear reader, for indulging my Blahs. If I could figure out how to take the energy I spend in worry and whining, I could likely write another book by March.

Certainly, I will settle for getting this book out to my kindly volunteer readers before they forget they offered.

This entire process of editing the book is interesting. I knew that there were major changes necessary. We’d already planned for some gutting to happen in the first 1/3 of the book. What’s been a surprise is all the little bits that need to be adjusted for continuity’s sake. Things I hadn’t even realized. For example, I’d managed to change the main character’s last name at least three different times throughout the book. Heh.  Poor girl, I’m not listening to her very well about this. Or her social personality. The manner in which she interacts with people varies radically in a few spots, and I can only assume it was affected by my mood/state of mind at the time I wrote it.

Matt has created a really helpful excel document broken down by chapter, so I can list what needs to be fixed and how. I’m also finally getting down to writing up character sheets for all the main players. (I know. Cart. Horse. What??) Organization is my friend. So I plug away, and hope that I can get a cleaned copy out to the folks who have so generously agreed to read it and offer their opinions. With Matt leaving in the next week or so, I’m trying my best to get the bulk of it done before I no longer have someone to take over demon duty for large chunks of time.

Once it’s out of my hands for a bit, I’ll start outlining book two and taking notes for book three. I’m not sure where finishing the outline for book one of the second series fits in here, but I assume it’ll get squidged in there somewhere.

At least I’ve got lots to keep me busy. And I’m not even letting myself think about the packing/planning/etc that’s going to need to happen in the next couple of months. Gahh. Moving sucks.

At 3:28PM Eastern time, in the cafe at the local Borders Books, I finished my book. Yes, you read that right. The book is finished. Well, I will clarify by saying the rough draft is complete. I’ll pause a moment to let those of you who’ve been following to recover from the shock. I know, right?

I sat a moment, in complete shock. I literally had to go back and read the final page three times before I believed it myself. Holy crap! It’s done.

And as I drove home, refusing to call anyone, holding the news tight to my chest. I could have been hissing “Myyyyy Preeeciousssssss”, and it wouldn’t have been surprising. There were brief moments of complete euphoria, but mostly…I just kept thinking of all the work that is left. I had an internal dialogue going that went something rather like this.

“I finished the book!!!”

“Yes, but now there’s the first round of edits. Then off to readers, then another round. And you haven’t done a query or a synopsis yet.”

“Hey…let me enjoy my moment here.”

“Oh by all means….enjoy it. .”…pause for a beat…”Are you done enjoying? Because we should really think about those re-writes you need to do on the first 1/3 of the book”

“Jeez…gimme a break here. I’m basking”

“Bahh….bask when you’re published. For now, let’s think about those changes.”

“I swear. You suck the fun out of everything.”

“Now now. Don’t get grumpy. I’m just trying to help you focus.”

“Fun sucker!!”

“There is simply NO talking to you when you get like this.”

*insert sucking noises here*

“You are SUCH a child.  I give up!”

Thus I left myself in a huff.

And I remain oddly shell-shocked. Vacant almost. I’ve been pushing for this moment for years. Wondering if it would arrive. Only to find that once here, it’s oddly anti-climactic.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m excited as hell to finally get here. And the most meaningful part of this for me, is really that I showed myself I can do this. I can write a book. No more excuses. I can DO this. And it’s exciting, and terrifying. NO MORE EXCUSES. Well hell. There goes that gig. Suddenly, books two and three, and the YA series are ever so much more tangible. They are there, waiting (somewhat patiently) to be given there due. I can no longer whine at myself that this is an impossible thing. It’s possible, just difficult.

So I believe we are going to celebrate, family style, my being a writer. Because oddly enough, even though it feels surreal. I finally think I can call myself that.

Hi, I’m Liz. I’m a writer. Guess what I did today?

I wrote a book!

So while some things in life remain in upheaval, with no clear answers in sight. The book, at least, rolls along. Chapter 24 is done, leaving me with 25 and the epilogue. So close now. And, if things continue as they appear they might, I need to have the rough draft finished early this coming week. M and I need time to read the rough and gather the rest of the notes for edits. Before he leaves, that is.

He most likely will be flying out of here after next week, staying with friends in the Seattle area till he finds work and a place for us to settle. Meanwhile, the demonic horde and I will remain here in Florida.  It sucks. It means at least two months or more apart. That is a hell of a long time, longer than we have ever gone since married. Ahh well. This too shall pass. At some point I will be able to look back on the past few months and laugh at how stressed I was because of the lack of one measly little job. Errrmmm…At least I certainly hope I will find this amusing eventually.

The oddest thing. I have found that the stress of all this: Unemployment, moving-not moving, bills piling up, the kids reactions to the instability, none of it has hampered the word flow. Which is really weird. I would have thought this would be a great time for a block to crop up, but if anything, the words are flowing better. I am NOT complaining here, just making an observation. For a woman who has had blocks when the wind blew the wrong way in the past, sailing through all this drama un-blocked has been nigh on miraculous.

Maybe that is my biggest sign in all this. That my creativity is not hinged to anything outside of myself. Negatively OR positively.

No, I am not doing a soft drink marketing reference. I’m referring to books. Good ol’ paper and board books. I spent a good portion of my evening reading blog posts, articles, facebook blurbs, tweets, etc on the recent debacle wherein Amazon pulled all MacMillan Publishing titles from its virtual shelves.  Being a complete publishing neophyte I was curious, at first, about the implications. Which lead to trying to decipher the entire idea of DRM and ebooks as a field of the industry. Needless to say, I don’t know that Ive accumulated much more than a cursory understanding of it all. I’m not even going to bother voicing my opinion on the issue, as I feel yet half informed, and doubt that anyone would benefit from my rambling incoherently… Well – any moreso than usual that is.

What prompted me to post was an offhand comment made by M, as I was bouncing thoughts and questions off him. To paraphrase him – We’ll all be reading digital books as a rule eventually, and the printed book will go the way of the horse drawn carriage.

Anyhow. I was horrified at not only the idea, but the ease with which the image seemed to trip off his tongue. No books? This is a circle of hell too twisted even for me to imagine. I’ve had a love affair with the book since I was a child. The thrill of cracking the cover open, the first slip of pages against fingertips, even the smell. Brand new,  slightly alkaline or that particular mustiness that seems to accumulate with age. Are we, as a society really going to let that go? Will I become that funky old woman with her, instead of cats, books? Will the book, as a vehicle for story, become the anachronistic equivalent of a carriage ride through Central Park?

Come on, Liz. It’s just a means of communication of the ideas contained therein. What matter if it’s pixels on a screen, or ink on paper?  As M, very logically asked me, was I saying that a printed newspaper article is more valid than one done online? My answer to which was a resounding “Of course not!”. So why then this seemingly illogical attachment to the printed book? (He’s also very good at pointing out those moments when my reasoning is less than stellar.)

I’m sure I won’t be able to articulate the entirety of how and why I love books. Not without boring all of you into a collective coma. But against the backdrop of his question, I realized a portion of my fear of a book free world. Books to me are like art. Well DUH! you say. But no. Every book I’ve read, even the bad ones, affect me.  I’d also like to believe that a book carries a bit of the author’s spirit in it. Those things live and breathe in the pages. It’s the difference between a digital rendering of one of my four year old’s splash-dab paintings, and the real thing. No scoffing. I understand there is a world of remove between a mass produced piece of media and a unique , handcrafted bit of art. But reading is experiential. And my experience informs the item. Every bent page, every dinged cover, even those I’ve worked to keep pristine. A book is the marriage of the author’s vision and voice, and my heart.

I guess I’m not ready to house my heart in plastic just yet.

And I just finished typing it at the top of a page, immediately after the word Chapter. Pause for swoon recovery. That is correct folks. I am officially on Chapter 24. I am within tripping distance of the end now. And its all good stuff. The lead up, planning, the climactic battle, and the wrap up. Pause for happy dancing.

To top off the loveliness, M has two job possibilities. Which is two more than we have had recently. One is a short term contract locally. The up side of that is it would allow us to move calmly. And have a bit stowed away to carry us through. The other is in…..wait for it… Juneau, Alaska! I suppose those of you who know me, probably are not at all surprised that I might move from Florida to Alaska. I’ve done weirder things. I have to admit, I’m privately routing for Alaska. What an adventure! And I think the short and demonic would love it. I realize there would be a major adjustment period and what have you. I realize that it’s Alaska. I realize you can’t even drive into Juneau. I realize it snows over 100 inches per year. And…I still want to go. The company sounds pretty awesome. Employee-centric and concerned. Good benefits, seems like good people. And….may I just say this again. It’s in ALASKA!!! We’ll be finding out soon. He has a meeting with the local guys tomorrow afternoon, and a phone call with the branch director tomorrow evening. Wish us luck!!