possibly pointless blabbering

4/21/22

annabowling 1 Comment

No catchy title this time, because there is literally nobody but me stopping me from playing Sims 4 24/7. This is one of those places where just because you can doesn’t mean that you should (and I hate using “you” like that, but “one” feels too formal, so will deal with it for the moment.) Moderation is the key here, because my first grade teacher really was onto something and as I did far, far better when I brought Barbie dolls for free play period, having a Sims save open, into which I can dip occasionally to let my brain cook the actual fiction when I’m not looking, actually does work.

Another thing that helps is having voices on in the background while I work. Lately, I have been listening to true crime on YouTube when not actually composing new pages, but it’s good for the admin/social media stuff. Am I retaining much of it? Nope. Am I paying attention? Ehhhh….occasionally? Lately, I have been picking by the voice of the narrator. Seems to be working. It’s the sound of the voice, not the words it is saying, similar to channels I listen to when going to sleep. Thought I hated when my mom used to tell me that once I got started doing a thing, I’d want to keep doing it, I now know she was right. Smart woman. She had it pegged super early on; guess first grade was a landmark.

Anyway, what I originally wanted to say was that writing fiction is a funny thing. One minute, I’m talking how romance novels were when I first discovered he genre, which leads to figuring out that my current historical hero had ADHD, though of course nobody knew that in 1784, which leads to blabbering a verbal sludge about the WIP, which then leads to The Thing that was holding the whole MS captive, and then I’m researching Catherine the Great (of Russia) and making a chart so that I can have a ready reference of how far and fast one can travel by coach.

I have also had words with Storm about blogging with regularity. We’d both like to do better with that. I am not entirely sure why I stopped taking pictures (and sharing them) and maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe what matters is picking the picture taking device and starting again.

A black, white, and orange calico cat lays on a red and black buffalo plaid blanket, looking directly at the camera with a guilt-inducing expression
“Pictures, Mama Anna. Now. Preferably of me.”

Cats are always appropriate. Please ignore her disgruntled expression. She’s usually much more chipper than that, and extremely invested in my writing. The more of it I finish, the more I can sell, and the more I sell, the more catnip I can buy. Isn’t that what’s most important? It’s all about the catnip. Oh, and butting on the big girl panties and doing scary things like making time for journaling and buddy-watching This is Us with friends who are similarly not okay with the Kate and Toby split. Like most things, it feels easier if I can talk about it. You have been warned.

An attractive young adult female Sim blows a kiss at the viewer.
This also applies to Sims

How’s it going where you are?

Anna

Rainy Afternoon Rambles

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Raining off and on over here, as best I can tell. Today was the day when my new sleep medication figured out what it was supposed to do, so let’s say I am very well rested today. I hear birdsong and the sound of wheels on wet pavement, and a quick look outside tells me it has indeed rained. It’s been a hot while since I blogged. That happens sometimes. The best way to get back into it is to jump in there and start blabbering, so here we are.

Okay. First of all, I am still not ready for Kate and Toy’s split on This is Us. They are one of my ships. These things take time Shoot, it took me what, a couple of years to watch the Highlander TV series finale. Either the right time will roll around or it won’t. Either way, there is always fanfic if it turns out that’s what I need. I do plan to watch the rest of the farewell season, but don’t necessarily need a front row seat for everything. Has anybody else had an experience like that with a beloved series, book or TV?

Second, I am pretty much listening to “Don’t Tell Anyone,” by Semler, on repeat:

“I want to know your story like I wrote the page” — them’s powerful words for a writer. Also “Don’t tell them that I swore this wouldn’t be my life.” Also, the tune is as catchy as a cold at a daycare center. I mean that in the very best way.

Wait, wait, wait, did I just hear thunder? Because I think I just heard thunder. Thunderstorms are my number one favorite spring/summer weather. I am absolutely here for it if so.

So Wondrous Free
Maryhelen Clague

Oh man oh man oh man, this book. This hit me in the feels and my history loving heart. I was but a wee princess in Westchester County, NY during the Bicentennial, so a historical romance set in that era and place is one thousand percent going to catch my attention. Also, it was part of the giant birthday haul from my friend, Mary, who knows me and my historical romance reading tastes. For those who only know the modern flavor of historical romance, I might shelve this in historical fiction with romantic elements, and it works very well that way too. I don’t recall any on page snugglies, but our heroine, Nabby, must choose between two dashing men, one Patriot, one Loyalist, during a freaking revolution. More of that, please. I want to make there be more of that.

A young adult female Sim, with long blue hair and tattoos, stands in front of a white wall and wooden door, pointing to something out o frame.

Then there’s Sims. Sims, for me, is the current-day equivalent of my first-grade teacher noting that my schoolwork was MUCH better if I brought dolls to play with during free play time. I never thought I would get as into it as I am, not only playing the game, but creating my own Sims, with tons of custom content, mods, and even learning how to make my own custom content. Not sure how that is going to turn out, but I am looking forward to finding out. It seems to be doing well for my writing, so a-Simming I will go. Picture editing is next, because I love taking screenshots. Does anybody have any experiences with Lightroom? I’ve been curious. I’m already down the ReShade rabbit hole. May as well go all in on the visuals, though the next step does seem to mean ponying up for photo editing software. I’d use it, though, soooo….we shall see.

One more thing. There is now a window open, and there is fresh air coming through that window onto my skin as I sit here in a white t-shirt stolen from Real Life Romance Hero’s stash. Yep. It’s spring.

Anna

Strange Connections

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First of all, I may possibly have Irish blood. I think. My birth mother’s last name could be of English or Irish origin, so we can be fairly sure it’s some sort of British Isles or thereabouts in my bio-ancestry. This has very little to do with today’s blog, except for the fact that A) it’s a starting point for me to blabber, B) I remember being at the house of MJK, well, she was nine, like me, so it was her parents’ home. It was a Victorian house with three stories and a wraparound porch and a triple (or quadruple?) garage that used to be a stable. They still called it the barn. No horses, only cars and a lawnmower, I remember being disappointed about that, even though we were in the middle of a lovely town in Westchester County.

MJK and I went to CCD together (after school religious classes for Catholic kids in public school) The Catholic school was closer to the K family’s house than to mine, so there were times Mama MJK would pick us both up and my mom would come get me from there. Also, my mom and Mama MJK got along well, so they probably considered it convenient that their kids got along, too. As for MJK’s little brother, SK, eh, he was a couple years younger, an energetic lad. All of this comes to mind because I was there on March 17th that year, and we thought it was absolutely hysterical that the weather for the St. Patrick’s Day parade in NYC (I have a lot of initials in this post) did not fit with the season as we saw it. Snow. I remember seeing women holding some sort of banner, in shiny green leotards and I am going to guess pantyhose/nude tights.

We must have seen it on TV or in the newspaper, and I want to say it was the Big Thing for that afternoon. It’s funny the things that stay with us. Right now, I am reading The Woman Behind the Attic, by Andrew Neiderman (aka the VC Andrews ghostwrite. for the last few decades)

Official VC Andrews Biography

While I can’t say I am a fan of the ghostwritten books, the true Andrews canon has a special place in my heart. I remember it being passed around the halls of my school when the books first came out, and even though Foxworth Hall from the Dollenganger series (Jacobean mansion) or Whitefern, from My Sweet Audrina, probably have extremely little with the house I lived in when MJK and I went to CCD together, my brain insists on slotting rooms from that house into those stories. The attic ofr the Flowers in the Attic fame, will always first call to mind my father’s art studio which was also my playroom, and not an attic at all, but the window that looked out on the woods beyond somehow melded with the window on the cover of the book. Don’t ask me how this happens. I don’t make the rules.

For Whitefern, I will need to reread Audrina to remember what the house looked like, but the stairs, on which Important Things Happen will always be the L-shaped stairs from the second story of my childhood home (where the studio/playroom was.) I have no idea how my brain connected those things, as I was several years out of that house when I read those books, but it’s in there, and in there deep. like the memory f being in that kitchen on that day, and the sting of witch hazel on my scraped knee (not the same day, I don’t think, but that same room) or the fun memory games MJK’s dad would incorporate into her birthday parties. The staircase going up all three stories also inserted itself in my reading of Diana Gabaldon’s comments in her Outlander companion, about here being an hombre at the door.

Long story short, writer’s minds are messy places. Aladdin’s caves. There’s also the fact that one of my research rabbit holes is rebooted or spun-off TV shows and their lore. Who knows where that will end up? Wherever it is, I look forward to the journey.

How about you?

Anna

Typing With Wet Paws: Boxing Weekend Edition

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Tails up, Storm Troppers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. While it is true that December 26th is called Boxing Day in some countries, this is Boxing Weekend, because we got new boxes here. Aunt Linda ordered a new mattress that comes rolled in a box, and new stuff to go with it. That means boxes for me! My big box “house” is still holding up, so I probably can’t keep the biggest box for more than until trash day, but that’s okay. Did I mention that Mama Anna put a paper bag inside my house box? Well, she did. It’s amazing. Very crinkly.

Oh right. I’m supposed to talk about Mama Anna here. That’s part of the deal. Okay. I can do that. She’s doing pretty well, actually. Not that she has figured out how to get the pictures from the tablet with the good camera into her feed but she’s working on that. Also, Papa is studying how to take better pictures, and I am a very willing model. He brings out my best side, which is all of them. I’m gorgeous.

don’t worry, I have photoshoots scheduled soon

But anyway, back to the writing. Mama Anna has gotten bolder in her journal stuff, and she thinks she’s found a super fun way to prep her journal pages to make her want to spend more time with them. Personally, I like lying on them. Or on her pen case if she leaves it open. That’s fun, too. She should be looking at me, anyway.

As long as we are on the topic of stationery, she has new sticky notes. Some of them are bright, and those are for the contemporary books she writes with Aunt Melva. They are having a lot of fun with Queen of Hearts, and are even planning a wedding that will go in that book. It also gives Mama Anna a chance to create her very own historic site, that may or may not have some similarities to a place she has been in real life. Also, she will get to add to it, and cannot promise that it won’t show up in a historical some day when it would just be a house because the history would be happening right then. Also, it would have cats. Lots of cats. She’d need them because of all the mice. Mmmmm, mice.

obviously not mine: I am a cat

The other sticky notes re shades of dusty pink and purple and that kind of thing. Those are for the historicals, and they fit in the pink sticky note holder Mama Anna got on clearance. She is super into her desk aethetics. This may include rescuing her secretary desk from stuff jail when Aunt Linda is on vacation at the end of the month, and this may also include her rocking chair. That chair has a history, as it is older than Mama Anna, and I am told that Grandma Erma (I have to wait for Rainbow Bridge to meet her) rocked Mama Anna in that chair, so if Mama Anna rocks me in that chair (I love being in her lap) then the tradition continues to the next generation. Mama Anna is very much set on getting that chair or the likes of it into the apartment, because he needs a dedicated reading (and cat lap giving) place that is not her office chair or her bed (it is also Papa’s bed, and he doesn’t care for a big reading light in his face when he is trying to sleep. He already has a cat climbing all over him, so I don’t blame him on cutting down on distractions. Yes, I am that cat.) I have already put in a request for a cushion on the seat, because I want to sleep in it when she is not using it.

The one thing the humans are concerned about is that the rocking chair appears in Big Sister Skye’s notes to me as ‘the green chair of evil.” Which means that was where she made her um, litterbox. Because she had special paws and could not climb into a litterbox. Aunt Linda says that is why there is Febreze. I’m not worried. I am 100% on my litterboxes (I have two of them; it’s awesome.) NO need to deviate now, amirite? Of course I am.

Okay, that’s about it for this week, especially as Mama Anna has to pick up groceries and library books and let’s be real, probably more stationery. I wonder if any of it will come in a box.

Headbonks!

Typing With Wet Paws: Confused Cell Phone Edition

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Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. This week, hold onto your seats, because I am going to go right into talking about Mama Anna. Shocking, I know, but this is a good one.

If you have been following us for any length of time, you will be familiar with Mama Anna’s weekly chats with Aunt Mary, over the glowy box. Most of this time, Papa is getting ready for work when these calls begin. If Papa is going to be home that day, then Mama Anna takes the call in Aunt Linda’s room, because they talk. A lot. Papa says they have one setting: loud. That is what happens when two extroverted humans get together. They get very excited about some of the things they talk about, which can vary widely. This one time, though, Papa was getting ready for work, and his cell phone got very confused.

Thing is, when Mama Anna and Aunt Mary talk, their topics move around from history to historical romance to baking to fashion and makeup and organization and upcoming family events and other things. Well. Papa’s phone has a voice thingy on it, because he likes to talk to his phone and tell it to do things instead of pushing buttons. This normally works very well, but when Mama Anna and Aunt Mary are throwing around a lot of different names and dates and questions and stuff, the phone doesn’t know what to do and tries to look up a bunch of stuff at once. Papa had to go to work, so he did take the phone out of the room so it could get some peace, but he didn’t get a chance to tell her until later. She and Aunt Mary thought it was pretty funny.

Papa’s phone did not have the same kind of problem when Mama Anna talked to Aunt Melva, because A) they usually keep their talk to the books they are currently writing together, but B) Mama Anna wears headphones, so Papa’s phone doesn’t hear Aunt Melva. Also C) Aunt Melva is not loud. I am sure Papa’s phone was thankful for the rest.

Oh. I also had a fun moment during this week’s chat with Aunt Mary, that I got to meet (virtually) my fur cousin, Aiden. He is a Golden Retriever, and Aunt Mary put him on the video call, and we looked at each other. I don’t know his side of the story, but I was all set to play. maybe one day we will. He looks like a fun guy. I bet he likes toys.

Anyway, that was the highlight of our week. Mama Anna is doing okay on the writing thing, which is pretty nice. She could be reading more, because that is prime belly rub time for me, an essential component, but we are working on that. Maybe you can recommend a good book she might like to read while rubbing my belly. Drop recommendations in the comments.

Headbonks!

Storm

Typing With Wet Paws: Winter Whiteout Edition

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Tails up Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. They would be frozen paws if I went outside, which I will not be doing, because A) I am not allowed, B) I don’t know how to do stairs anyway, and C) I can’t work doorknobs. Also D) it’s cold. With snow on the ground. No way am I going outside in that. Or anytime. I am an indoor cat. Granted, I could do a cool trick by flopping on my pack and disappearing because my belly is allll pure white, but then my assorted flavor toe beans would give me away. Far better to stay inside with Mama Anna and perform my Mews duties.
how’s this for an author photo?

I have already helped her make the bed, and after this blog, I can help her (aka sit on) put away the laundry. It smells okay, but it has virtually no cat hair on it when it comes back from the laundry place. I must fix that. Since I am calico, I can shed on everything and still have my hair visible. It’s kind of a superpower. Yesterday, Papa and Mama Anna were both home, and they made all of the trash and recycling go someplace else. Much more space for me to patrol, so I am thankful for that Mama Anna will be listening to an audiobook while she puts the laundry away (and removes me from it.) Audiobooks seem to be a pretty decent way to get her reading goals under control. So is keeping track of things in her reading journal. She may work on that today, and I will of course help her. Steal her pens, bap her rolls of washi with my paws, sit on open pages, whatever it takes, I am there.

Speaking of reading, Mama Anna is on track for her Goodreads Challenge this year. Right now she is at nine percent, with seven books read out of seventy-five. Reading time is often cuddle timee, so yes, I do have a personal investment here.

While this has not been the most productive week for Mama Anna’s writing, it’s better than last week, so she is going to count that as a win, and so will I. We are both perplexed over why pictures she takes (mostly of me, but other stuff too) is not showing up on other devices when they used to, but Aunt Linda is good at figuring that sort of stuff out so we will ask her for some help. Normally, I don’t care for the humans moving furniture around and stuff, but with the way Mama Anna is re-doing the office area, she is at her desk more, which means that I can be on my special bed next to her desk more (it is an old lap desk of hers turned upside down with the pillow side up) and be sneaky because it’s behind the Kanban board she set up to track different projects.

So yeah, that’s basically it for today. Tomorrow, Mama Anna will post on Buried Under Romance and get moving on getting the backlog of reviews up there as well. Of course I will be there to supervise. Unless that is, the snow plow comes back. I love watching that from Aunt Linda’s window. What are you guys all doing this weekend?

Headbonks!

Storm

annabowling 1 Comment

How did it get to be February already? I did not sign off on this. I also did not authorize the dearth of planner/journal decorative items that are wintry but not Christmassy. I love Christmas; it’s my favorite holiday, but I can’t for the life of me make myself use poinsettia and evergreen stickers on January spreads. Good thing it’s now February and I can break out the Valentine’s stuff for the next four weeks. February is too soon for the traditional spring florals. Those can come out near the end of March, though I like to go rain themed for April. Very specific theme, I know, but I did learn how to draw an umbrella for it, so that helps a good deal.

Anyway, it’s Thursday. I’m babbling. Even though it’s not spring yet, I am in strong spring cleaning mode. Since Housemate has a bunch of vacation time she has to use in March, we may use that to bust out some important items out of stuff jail. I’m talking furniture – my beloved secretary desk, a headboard Real Life Romance Hero and I inherited from Maman (Housemate’s mother,) and some things from Housemate’s storage as well. This will, in time, include my all-time favorite romance novels, my Bertrice Small collection first and foremost. I am very much looking forward to putting those back in their place.

Last week, I was able to add to my desk area (pictures to follow) a gorgeous end table from Maman, fiving me another surface next to my temporary desk, meaning I now have someplace to put not only my tea (very important) but reference materials, handwritten notes/drafts, etc, and keep things I love around me. Things for planning and journaling will probably end up in a different area than things for writing fiction, but it is all a work in progress.

This week, I had a wonderful conversation with Melva, and we are back on track with Queen of Hearts, to be followed by edits on Drama King. We also talked about some possible projects for the future, though we are keeping our focus on the stuff in front of us. This now brings me to time to get babck to historiccal romance, which can be…trickier.

Though I hadn’t wanted the first round edits for A Heart Most Errant to have a birthday, well,

Birthday cake covered in white frosting roses, with glittery gold candle in the shape of the numeral one.
Photo by Mohammad Danish on Pexels.com

Yeeeep. It happened. Not that I intend for it to get to the terrible twos, but some years do knock one for a loop. I do have to admit that I am feeling the lack of a local RWA chapter (our local chapter voted to dissolve, though we do have an informal FB group) and being in the same room as others of my kind. I love talking with other readers of historical romance, but the writing of it, well, that’s a different matter.

\Though I know every chapter of any group has its own identity, more often than not, the RWA chapters I have experienced have been very open. Plop self down next to Other Person, chat amiably, find out several minutes in that Other Person is Big Name Author and now you are a writerly version of work friends. There’s also the energy of being in a room full of people who love to write what I love to write, especially when I find a fellow historical romance writer, at which point

Two women, holding drinks and chatting happily
Photo by ELEVATE on Pexels.com

It starts with “what eras?” and goes on from there. Hopefully with an “I loved That Book You Wrote” on at least one side. (Though it be many years in the past, the thrill of hearing “I loved that article you wrote on A Certain Author” across a big ol’ meeting room the first time I introduced myself to a new chapter. If whoever is running the meeting has us go around and introduce ourselves and say what we write, that’s a bonus point I love to find out who writes what. Though there are always chances that a particular chapter will slant heavily towards a particular subgenre (contemporary, erotic, YA, etc) there’s usually a good variety, and one can usually find a kindred soul, or at least be put in touch with one if they do not happen to be in attendance at the moment. An “X, meet Y” email later, boom, connection.

It’ll all work out in time. Writers do tend to find writers (especially when they babble on the interwebs; historical romance writers; hit me up) and the most important part of writing is, well, writing. Butt in chair, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, etc, etc, and so on until there is Book. Then do it again.

That’s about it for now, but hey, blog post written, so it counts for the week. How are things going on your end?

Anna

Typing With Wet Paws: Digging Out Edition

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Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. It’s been quite the week over here, and pretty much all of the humans are now in the digging out of the debris phase. Aunt Linda will be going to CT early in the coming week to take care of a few family things. I am not sure if Mama Anna is going with her, but if Mama Anna is going with her, then I am going with Mama Anna. We are a team. Also, I cry when she is gone for too long, and leaving me at home alone while Papa is at work is not one of the world’s greatest ideas. Aunt Linda’s brother, Uncle Bob, will be meeting her there, I think, so I don’t know if having us there would be too crowded. We will see. If we do go, I love car rides, so I won’t be complaining unless I don’t get a good view. Then I will make my displeasure known.

On the domestic front, Mama Anna is grumbling about hauling a bunch of cardboard out to the recycling area. Personally, I don’t see a problem with a lot of cardboard. Has she ever even tried scratching it? Totally satisfying. Humans are weird. I would consider the smell of old pizza to be a plus.

I highly recommend a long winter’s nap.
Photo by Mama Anna

Oh. That reminds me. Since we do live in an area with lots of good pizza, the humans order it a decent amount. Well. It smells really good, and I am a curious girl. Earlier this week, Papa had an unattended slice of pizza, and I thoughtt the sausage on it smelled really good. He didn’t mind when I sniffed it, but touch my tongue to it one time, and all of a sudden, it’s “not for kitties.” Which I know is human for “get your face out of that.” You can guess how well that worked. Long story short, I am not allowed around pizza unsupervised anymore. Papa knows now to watch his plate.

For Mama Anna, this digging out stuff means a lot of reading and writing. This will mean a lot of what she calls brain dumping, which means putting whatever is in her head onto whatever page she has in front of her, whether that be paper or screen. Sometimes she has to blabber a lot before she can get any readable writing out of the process. I like when she is in this place, because I get to stick close to her and be her mews. I am super good at that. When we are getting into a really good writing session, Mama Anna and I snuggle into the big pillow nest on the people bed and settle in with a fuzzy blanket (still not fuzzier than me, though) and a tea or cold drink for Mama Anna, and we are good for a nice long stretch. Speaking of which, I think it’s time to lead her on over there. What’s on tap for your weekend?

Headbonks!

Storm

PS (or psspsspss -wee what I did there?) : Mama Anna is already one book ahead of schedule on her Goodreads challenge, with five books read out of seventy-five. Pillow nests are super good for reading.

Typing With Wet Paws: Almost Mid-December Edition

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Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. Holiday mode is setting in here, as Aunt Linda has the weekend off, which means Mama Anna can rope her into holiday related shenanigans. There will be several of those, I am sure, as Mama Anna has her Christmas planner/journal in full swing. That’s probably because she’s been sleeping a lot better as of late. I can take credit for part of that, as I am not playing around when it comes to bedtime. Especially since Papa is usually in bed first, and that makes it super cozy when we are all in there together. I get Mama Anna into bed, under the covers, and then I flip over so she can rub my belly until one of us falls asleep.

photo by Rheuben Bowling

Word on the street (okay, floor) is that the humans are putting up the Christmas tree on Sunday, probably on the kitchen table/Mama Anna’s journaling spot. There will be new ornaments this year, and part of the shenanigans abovementioned, will be the obtaining of a tree topper, which we did not have last year. Mama Anna says she wants a star, with lights that blink and/or chase. As you can imagine, I am extremely interested in this sort of thing. Will keep you updated as things progress.

Speaking of progress, let’s take a look at Mama Anna’s Goodreads Challenge. As of this writing, she is only four books behind schedule, with eighty books read out of her goal of ninety. Not too out of reach, especially with the weekend ahead, and a low-key Christmas planned. She plans on closing the gap with audiobooks and novellas if needed. She is getting that win by any means necessary.

As for writing, that is honestly going rather well. Slowly, but well. I’ll let her talk about that part, but moving to a two blog a week thing is paying off. Of course, one of those is mine, because quality content, am I right? I can’t take credit for the fiction, though, but I am definitely performing my Mews duty, sticking close and sending love beams. When, that is, I’m not trying to get into the third drawer in the big dresser.

For the last few days, I have been doing everything in my power to get into that particular drawer. Mama Anna wasn’t sure at first, why, other than that I can reach it from the top of my house (big cardboard box, if you’re new here) but standing on my hind legs and reaching and pawing at it with what can only be described as ardent determination. Then the time came when she wasn’t willing to put up with my folderol any longer, and she opened the drawer to see what I was after with such importance.

It was catnip. The big bag of catnip she thought she had put in the refrigerator but was not in the refrigerator, because it was in that drawer. Stil is, really, but now that I know that she knows that I know what’s in there, I only have to ask her nicely for some catnip when I want it. She’s pretty sharp that way. I have also heard the words “red dot” and “cat castle” mentioned in the same sentence as “presents,” so this holiday bodes well.

Headbonks!

Storm

And Then One Day, You Do

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The art, and probably science, of coming back to oneself, especially as a creative, after a significant trauma, is not a straight line, but more like a manic freeform scrawl, like what one might find if a toddler were given a Sharpie and a blank white wall. It feels like forever. It feels big and blinding and impossible. It’s at once a fever dream and a much-desired goal. How to get there, though? Beats me. I have been through this journey more than once, may well again, as I still have some time in front of me, and each time is going to be different.

it also involves a lot of The Sims, or maybe that’s just me

There are big chunks of wanting to do the things that make a person the unique individual that they are, to get the creative voice to make a sound, but …not. There is knowing the thing, knowing one likes the thing. The thing is right there. One could do the thing. This crawls through one’s brain like a news crawler. One wants to do the thing. One wants to like doing the thing. One wants to have done the thing. Does one do the thing? No. Why?

Season 5 Whatever GIF by Paramount+
Lucy says it best

The easiest explanation I have, for my own individual case, is that there aren’t enough spoons. If you’re not familiar with spoon theory, it’s kind of like the pain scale. Basically, there is only so much energy a person has when dealing with a chronic condition, it’s finite, and putting spoons in one place means they can’t go in another. Sometimes they go to playing Sims for a few months or rearranging the furniture, or constructing planners or whatever happens to fill the need at the time. It’s different for everybody. It also very seldom resembles what the person thinks it’s going to be.

For me, I thought it was going to mean gorging myself on a steady stream of historical romance, preferably from my keeper boxes. Probably Netflix/Hulu binges, and oh the writing I was going to do. I’ve done some. I hired my first indie editor, the fabulously talented Jessica Cale, and got through the first round of edits, which then just…sat. Because. As with the reading. As with the viewing. As with the total lack of listening to music, which has some interesting results for my Spotify year in review. I will also mention the war between a mad race to the end of my Goodreads challenge, or shrugging that off and deciding it is what it is.

And then. Because there is always an “and then” when it comes to this sort of thing. Thing is though, there is no sort of time table, though one would be incredibly useful. Maybe, though, we write it as we go. At any rate, we go about it one foot in front of the other, maybe even plodding through rambly blog posts, or lack of blog posts and it gets annoyingly tedious. Will This Ever End? Maybe there has been some writing, but it’s more like going for a hike with a cartoon style ball and chain around one’s ankle. Doable, and one can technically get to one’s destination, but is one going to appreciate the scenery and/or have a lovely chat along the way? Possibly not so much.

But back to the “but then.” Then one day, one does. Oh, look, I’m reading a book. Oh look, I finished watching a series on Netflix. Oh look, I added something new to Spotify. Oh look, sleep tracker shows a steady bunch of nights that count as decent rest. That’s all good stuff. It’s not one thing. The ball and chain doesn’t drop off dramatically. It gets ground down by a million single steps. Online chats. You Tube videos playing in the background when not looking at the screen. Mindless tablet scrolling, like treading water in an infinity pool, no agenda in mind.

Then one day, the ball and chain isn’t there. It’s weird. Writing is a challenge, and then, one day, it’s …normal? The way it should be? Familiar? Sort of “oh, there you are.” Not exactly the same, because I don’t think that’s possible, but okay. Stepping from one room into another.

Do I know where this is going?

Season 5 Whatever GIF by Paramount+

Not sure, but it’s real, and it’s true, and writing it feels good, so I am going to hit the publish button and then get on with my day. Moving to a two blog a week schedule, one of those Storm’s responsibility, honestly has made a difference in my fiction writing, so I am thinking of keeping the practice beyond December. Not sure yet; we’ll see, but putting the emphasis on writing romance fiction, feels right.

Hmm, probably time for a new signoff graphic.