EW

Ramblings on writing, crafting and life.

So the Direct TV people came today and hooked us up to a nifty dish, and High Def Goodness. Nearly 300 channels of High Def Goodness. Yes, yes. It gives me pause as well. Especially after having been tv-less for a couple of months. I’d gotten not just used to it, but appreciative of the quiet. We still had Netflix, and the streaming movies they have. And For one or two shows, Hulu. (Who doesn’t LOVE Tim Roth and Lie To Me??? I mean, really. ) Football season approaches, however, so no TV was a BAD thing. Direct TV offers this very spiffy package where you get every damned game in existence, plus every channel on this planet, and a few from other planets.  That’s what we got. And now I have a tv sitting ten feet from my bed, staring at me with that blankly challenging screen. Whispering it’s 300 channels of mind-numbing, hours killing programming. And much like the clown doll in Poltergeist….I’m pondering throwing a coat over it before it tries to eat me.

Now don’t get me wrong. TV can be educational, entertaining, and basically…a very good thing. But it can also be a vast time sink. With huge chunks of our lives and brain cells being scoured away, never to be regained. For the short people there are built in limits. Parental controls. An hour a day. That’s only responsible right? But me?? What about me, when I’m up and sleepless at 2 and 3 am? Which I am, and often. When previously I would have read, or even plucked away at the book. Will I now just turn the tube on because it’s easier. I mean, I can still knit and watch Gordon Ramsay, right?!?

Much like a crack addict that has been clean for a couple of months, someone just dropped a vat o’ crack in my house, and I’m a bit aflutter. Maybe if I pull the blankets over my head…it won’t notice me.

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.

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.

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!!

The blog is fixed! Now, while I might think this cause for a national holiday, I realize it’s impact upon others might be slightly less significant. The most amazing part of this entire “broken, more broken, upgrade and it’s still broken, ahhhh to hell with it for a few months” process is that I fixed it entirely by myself. Usually when things become this complicated I shove it onto M’s plate. Not this time. And the fix was really ridiculously simplistic. Literally a matter of clicking a new link structure choice and reloading my settings. (ugh yes…this took me months to figure out…scary I know) But, I found it myself, didn’t freeze up in the face of tech jargon overload, and I now have a fully functional blog again! Happy dancing ensues.

This turns out to be a fortuitous fix, as I am renewed in my urge to keep the blog flowing. In a real gift from the Universe kind of moment, I got an out-of-the-blue email from a facebook friend that found the blog, read it, and holy of holies – was positively affected by the reading. Wow…just wow. It was for that very reason I started doing this. The idea that there might be other people out there, trying to find their way to their own writing space. That maybe seeing someone else sharing the difficulties and the good stuff, would help them feel…not quite so alone.

I get caught up in thinking nothing I have to say here could possibly unique or brilliant enough to make a difference to anyone. I flog myself in the name of personal humility. Who am I? Why on earth would anyone care that this damned book is taking more than four years to crank out a rough draft, and my children are increasingly deserving of the title demonic horde? That’s not where the good stuff is at though, folks. The places that touch us are the ones we can feel, the ones we recognize. It’s the shared space. That’s where we can really see ourselves, and each other. And so, I am in turn inspired by a person who, for no reason other than to say thank you, saw me and recognized me. That really couldn’t have happened in a sweeter or more opportune way.

As for book status. I’m about 2/3 of the way through Chapter 23, and am thinking it will end up being 26 as opposed to 25 in total. Nearly there! So close I can taste it really. The last chapters are fully flushed, outlined and its really just a matter of getting the climactic moments on paper. Then it’s the first round of edits before sending it to my volunteer readers. On so many levels it feels surreal to type these words. To acknowledge anywhere but inside my own skull that I’m this close. But there it is.

On a closing note, all archive links and the comments currently work. Have a field day folks!