Rachel's Rambles

I have come to a realization. I knew it all before, in bits and pieces, but the other night something crystalized for me and I now am at the crossroads, ready to choose a path.

I'm talking about how I have been avoiding my purpose in life, my passion, my talent. I can look back at any time in my life since I decided to become a writer and find at any given time at least one obsession with something, outside of writing, that taps into the well from which I draw my inspiration, blocking my access. The particular obsession changes, but I always have one. Or more.

For example, let me use World of Warcraft. I enjoy the game, the world, the interaction with other players, the quirky little humorous extras sprinkled throughout. But at one point, when I had recently made a pact with myself that I MUST finish such-and-so writing project by X date, I became obsessed with the game to the point where I literally could not sit down and write. I would always choose to play the game instead.

I think I've figured out that the quiet place, my creative well, is scary to me. It must be, or else why would I struggle so hard to avoid being alone with it?

I'm not sure exactly how to overcome this. But now that I'm aware the issue exists, I promise I will dig hard to figure out what's going on and fix the issue. Because it's keeping me from realizing my full potential, both as a writer and as a person. And I'm not willing to live with that anymore.

If anyone out there has experienced something similar - always distracting themselves from writing - and figured out a solution, I'm all ears.

"Picture a girl in a long blue gown, a new gown, presented to her just today for the ball tonight, standing in the grassy clearing at the center of a hedge maze. You see her? You see her long flaxen hair, so carefully plaited down her back? Her cheeks lightly flushed with pleasure, above pretty pouting lips? Notice that she holds a single peach rose, delicately inhaling its scent. You see how happy she looks there, next to the fountain, in the sunlight, surrounded by full green hedges? She has no cares, no worries. Her life is perfect, and has ever been, and ever will be.

I wish I could cry out to that girl from where I am and tell her that she is deluded. That there is no such thing as perfection. That the place of peace in the center of that maze is a mirage; there is no safety there. That the beauty she has is a trap; a snare. With biting teeth that will cut deeply into her flesh and make her bleed and bleed and bleed. I cannot.

She will find out soon enough. For that afternoon in the hedge maze is the last time she will be beautiful, or happy, or at peace, for a long, long time.

I know this, because that girl . . . is me."

I'm not going to say 'resolutions' even though January draweth nigh. But, I do have some concrete goals for myself over the next three months.

Goal the first: Finish writing the short story I am working on, "Of Sea, and Sand, and Stone". Find a market, submit. Rinse, repeat. Also finish rewrite on "Harlequin Girl and the Maker King" and do the same.

Goal the second: Gather up those few of my other stories, written on and off since 2005, that I still have faith in, and submit, submit, submit. This would include "Crescendo", "The Dog Formerly Known As Prince", "And Raindrops Softly Fell", "All the Starbursts Faintly Gleaming", and maybe a couple more. There does need to be some rewriting on a couple of them before they get out the door, but I want to make it happen. Several of those stories have never been submitted anywhere, and the most markets any of them have been to is three.

Goal the third: Finish the outline for "Maidencrone and Bearskin" - working title. I have a lot of ideas but they are currently jumbled and unbalanced. I need to make some decisions as to what to emphasize, what to cull, and what still needs to be added. This is concurrent with goals one and two, and all three need to be accomplished ASAP because of . . .

Goal the fourth: This is the big mother of them all. Write the first draft of "Maidencrone and Bearskin" by March. That's three months to finish all brainstorming and write 60-80k. I am trying not to give into fear on this one, but in some ways that is a daunting task for a single mom of three. On the other hand, my very best work is done under pressure and I'm tired of faffing about and not getting things accomplished. Plus, I can't mention why just yet, but there is a specific and concrete reason for that timeline that might pay off in a big way for me. So I have a juicy carrot dangling, and must reach for it.

I am well aware of the fact that in the past, immediately after posting lofty goals such as these, Life has found many a way to derail me completely. I really truly hope that I can weather whatever storms are out there and still reach my goals this time. I would feel a lot more like a professional writer and less like an amateur hobbyist if I did.

I used to be a voracious reader. I inhaled books. There were periods in my life where I read more books a day than I ate meals. I distinctly recall one 24 hour period at the age of 8 when I read 10 full length novels. I even still remember some of them: The Cross and the Switchblade, The Black Cauldron, One-Eyed Cat, Island of the Blue Dolphins, to name a few. Considering that I didn't learn to read until age 7, I think that was fairly impressive.

In fact, how I learned to read is a bit of a funny story. I was homeschooled, and my Mom says she had worked with me for months out of the book Teach Your Child To Read In 100 Easy Lessons. To this day I still remember a lot of the little illustrations sprinkled throughout. But, I refused to learn. I would cry every time she sat down to work with me. Eventually she threw her hands in the air and gave up. I would have to learn to read on my own. One day, my dad wrote me a letter and left it on my pillow for me to see when I woke up. I could read my name, and I recognized my dad's handwriting. So, excitedly, I gave the letter to my mom and asked her to read it to me. She refused. I would just have to learn to read it myself.

So I did. I sat at the kitchen table all day until I could read. And when I read the letter, it was my dad telling me all about the wonders of books, and had a list of some of his favorites for me to read. He said he was really looking forward to talking about them with me, sharing the worlds together. The first book on the list was Charlotte's Web. I read it that night. Next was The Hobbit, and I never looked back after that. I was reading Shakespeare and Dante within a couple of months.

Fast forward 20+ years. Note that the vast majority of those years were spent with my nose in a book - including while walking the two miles to and from school. I just made sure to look up from the page at busy intersections :).

I am now a mother. Not one, not two, but three small children are now in need of my semi-constant attention. Which I'm incapable of giving while I'm reading a book. When I read, it's like I'm on an extended deep sea dive. I can't just surface every five minutes. I must remain submerged until I reach the end. I often forget to eat; almost always forget to sleep. Taking care of kids with constant interruptions is completely incompatible for me. I'm ashamed to confess that since the birth of my third child, I've read fewer than a dozen novels, and he's fifteen months old.

I have also noticed a corollary. I have far fewer ideas in my writing well. When I was reading all the time, I was bombarded with Cool Ideas. But now that I'm not, I only rarely get inspiration. TV just does not do the same thing for me. And I want that richness and color back in my life. I want to dream again, and travel to exotic lands, and cry with the heros at their moments of great despair.

So, I bought myself an embarrassingly large selection of science fiction and fantasy books for Christmas, and I'm cancelling cable (I never used to have it anyway until my pregnancies when I was on bedrest and bored out of my mind). I'm not sure of the exact number but it's close to a hundred books. I bought remaindered novels, which I feel guilty about because I know the authors aren't getting royalties. However, it was the only way I could afford so many (the average price was about 2 bucks a book). Books by current authors, not just ones I loved as a child. Books written by my friends even, like Ken Scholes and Tobias Buckell and other awesome authors like Jay Lake and Cherie Priest and Charles de Lint. And I'm going to let myself read them. I'm giving myself permission to make time somehow. Theodore Roosevelt ALWAYS made time to read. Every day, whether he was hunting big game, or supervising the Panama Canal, or running the country. I might have to change my reading style a little bit to allow for the kids interrupting, and all the pressures and duties of adult life. Especially single mom adult life. But, it's time I made time.

I am looking forward to re-filling my idea well. Bring it on!

I love live music concerts. However, I can't always justify the cost. This year, thanks to the miracle that is facebook ;), I saw ads for two different concerts in December that I didn't want to pass up. Perhaps it helps that I only need to pay for one ticket rather than two now . . . I'm not sure.

So with great excitement I bought tickets to see The Cranberries on their first tour in seven years (I've loved their songs since high school) and also for Leahy Family Christmas (Celtic-style Canadian band made up of eleven siblings who all sing, Irish dance, and play multiple instruments including fiddle, guitar, banjo, piano, drums, and several others). The former I was flying completely solo, which was a new experience for me. The latter I attended with my parents, who are big Leahy fans.

The Cranberries was first, on December 1st. I drove to Denver, dropped the kids off with their dad, and headed to the Gothic Theatre. I'd been there once before, years ago, to see Gaelic Storm (a total blast). The weather was arctic, and even the massed body heat of everyone waiting in line was not enough to offset the wind cutting through my clothing. I regretted choosing the 'will call' option when purchasing my tickets online, once they told us that after first waiting through the half hour line to pick up tickets all the people who did so then had to go to the back of the admission line. Grrr. One very rude gentleman, ahead of me in line, informed me that all the people who got there even earlier than me were issued wristbands so they could get in first. He flashed an orange VIP bracelet as proof. So, I laughed when moments later, people working at the theatre moved up and down the line calling out that as soon as IDs were checked people would be issued an orange wristband, for bar drinks.

Once inside I was at a bit of a loss. Should I go cram in with all the bodies on the open floor in front of the stage? Or make my way to a barstool in the balcony, farther away but at least it would mean not standing on concrete for the next three hours. I opted for the barstool at first. On the way I stopped by the bar, and had absolutely no clue what to order. I'm not a very experienced drinker and wanted to try something new. In desperation, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. I had recently heard a cousin of mine mention rum and coke. It is her favorite drink even though she doesn't drink coke normally. I hate coke, but I like rum cake and fruit drinks with rum, so I gave it a shot. Oops. Big mistake. Tasted like carbonated cough syrup. Five dollars down the drain. At that point I gave up on the barstool too, because I realized that I'd never been to a concert that had open standing room at the front, and did I want to waste that experience? No, I am all about trying new things right now!

Luckily I got a decent spot right next to a pole and divider, so there was no one directly to my right. This turned out to be a good thing because the more crowded it got, the more cozy I got with that pole, and I was very thankful for the open air to breathe next to me. I had been wondering how I would do going to a concert by myself, and I now knew the answer: I can do it, but it's definitely not my preference. The entire time I stood there I was wishing desperately for a man to be standing behind me, protecting me from the jostling of the crowd by putting his arms around me. The two of us could have been an island in a stormy sea. One such couple stood to my left. They reminded me strongly of the number 10. He was the 1, she the 0. In body shape, I mean. But they looked very happy together, and I smiled. Standing directly behind me was a spiky woman. I say spiky because every facial feature bristled with piercings, mostly the dog-collar-spike variety, and she had her hair cut in short spikes all over her head. She seemed to have a personality as bristly, because she immediately began swearing a blue streak to her girlfriend about the people in front of us who were taller and blocking part of the view. At one point her girlfriend had to talk her down from going up and picking a fight with them. When I heard the quite colorfully raised voice I started trying to blend completely in with the pole. I didn't want to leave the concert with a police escort. Later in the concert, the ball on one of her lip studs flew off into the darkness, and I heard her behind me, very upset at the loss. I happened to catch a glint of light on metal on the floor ahead of me, and bent to get it. Sure enough, it was hers, and the beaming smile on her face as she clapped me on the back and thanked me profusely for finding it for her was more than enough to allay my fears and actually made me feel a comradeship with her.

Dolores was worth the hour long wait outside in the cold, and the almost two hour wait after coming inside (there was an opener, a solo guitarist who to be quite honest was not good at all, and he made it seem even longer until the Cranberries came out I'm sorry to say). She's petite, but spunky. She wore a sparkling minidress with a black hoodie over it, and Converse All-Stars. She introduced most songs with a little story or insight into what she was thinking when it was written; often comparing that to how she felt now. I got a sense of grace, and personal strength. Charm, and love for people. Not to mention that she was cute as a button and very grounded in herself. I admire her. And her voice! Hearing her on the radio or CD does not compare. The warbling echo she gets on the high notes zinged right through me, in a good way. I left the concert happy and smiling. It was a good night - would have been better if I'd had a boyfriend though.

Last night was the Leahy concert. I rode up to Boulder with my parents, again after driving up from the Springs and dropping off kids. It was even colder outside than for the Cranberries, and I realized how non-insulated my boots are once my feet turned to ice inside my dad's Land Rover on the way up. It was about 14 degrees out. The Macky Auditorium at CU Boulder is one of the most beautiful concert venues I've ever been to. The outside is stone, and it looks a bit like a medieval cathedral. Inside, the architecture is equally breathtaking. The graceful curves and filigree carving in the ceiling make it feel intimate and cozy, and smaller than it really is. I'd been there once before, to see Loreena McKennitt (well worth it; I have loved her music since middle school). And the Leahy family made it feel equally cozy. They all wore beautiful holiday clothes, and actually brought a couch onstage with them, complete with soft chenille throw over the arm.

The evening was filled with a variety of classic hymns, upbeat Celtic songs, crazy good instrumentation, and joy. My favorite song was a Canadian Christmas carol I've never heard before, called Huron Carol. It was written by a missionary to the Huron indians back in the 1600s, and it told the birth story of Christ with motifs and terms familiar to them. For example, in the song baby Jesus is wrapped in tattered rabbit fur and laid in a split-bark cradle. The song was hauntingly beautiful, and I'd like to get the audio recording of that sometime. The one sour note of the concert for me was on one of their harmonized vocal songs. I let out a sigh of appreciation because it sounded so good, a nice 'mmmm', and my dad shushed me. Twice. Note, we had both been occasionally leaning over to make comments about various songs throughout the evening, so it's not like there was a vow of silence between us. It made me want to get up and move seats away from him so I could express my 'mmmm's in peace. But overall, the night was beautiful and memorable.

I don't have any more concerts planned, but I did hear an ad on the radio about American Idol contestant Jason Castro coming to town next week. Hmmm . . . .

I love talking shop. By shop I mean writing, of course. I'm enough of an extrovert that I get excited about things by talking them up with other people far more than I do when I'm alone. This week has been rich with Writerly Interactions, for which I am blessed.

Three Codexians this week have greatly enriched my writing life. Thank you.

First, I spent some time online chatting with Ken Scholes, and the energy from those conversations propelled me to get 6k written this week, after a very long dry spell lasting at least six months. I plan to continue writing semi-daily, and Ken said he'd help keep me on track by letting me know how much wordcount he gets on his next novel, "Requiem" so I have a goal to reach for. We did that once before, when he was writing "Lamentation" and I was writing one version or another of my novel "Outleaf". He put me to shame then, easily outstripping my count every day, but I hope that I'm in a healthier place in my life now and can get in the groove this time.

And then I got to go hang out with John Brown at a signing for his debut novel "Servant of a Dark God". He was extraordinarily courteous and kind, and all too willing to give me some much-needed advice on writing process, and how to keep my mental health, well, healthy :). While there I also got to spend a fair bit of time talking to Ray Solomon and his lovely wife about writing and Parkour (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parkour). I found it fascinating to learn that the philosophy of Parkour embraces facing fear in life to give you better coping skills and mental health as a person. Makes me want to go watch some in action :). Also there were some very interesting and kind members of the gun community, hanging out with John's fellow author on tour Larry Correia.

Considering that the last time I actually got to talk to fellow authors in person was back in April at Dave Wolverton's Million Dollar Outline Workshop, and before that Worldcon in August '08, it was a much needed week.

. . . Though it may seem like it since it's been so long since I've posted. Well, I'm still not done unpacking :). But, it is getting better little by little.

I have some new goals in life! I'm pretty excited I must admit. Let's see how long the enthusiasm lasts.

First, a physical transformation. To that end I have gotten braces (owie) and I'm using them as a handy jumping off place to begin a new diet and exercise program. My goal is to hit my target weight and be in shape by the time the braces come off in about 18 months. I have to lose 75+ pounds but I think it is doable.

Second, a new career. For the past couple of years I have wanted to be a veterinarian, but unfortunately 8 years of school and over a 100k in debt at the end is just not practical as a single mom. So I've been casting about for alternatives and I have landed on becoming a massage therapist. I'd like to really go in-depth with it, and learn neuromuscular massage and other medical massage areas. Both to become more marketable and also because I find it very interesting. I've always had strong hands, and I started giving my dad back massages when I was 4 years old. I haven't stopped since, so it's about time I got some formal training. The really great news is I can get certified in under a year and it will only cost me 5-10 grand to do so, not including any financial aid.

Third, a new attitude about writing. I still love it, but I've stopped feeling guilty if I can't write every day. In my situation it is just not feasible, but circumstances change and I'm giving myself permission to just write if I feel like it, and I know that it will come back when the time is right. I actually find that when I no longer 'should' be writing, I actually write more because it's fun again.

Fourth, a mental and emotional cleansing. I'm in weekly therapy and even though I've just begun, I can already tell a difference in my daily attitude. I'm so excited about the day when I will have dealt with some of the issues and crap that we all carry around, and has been weighing me down for years. Time to do some internal housecleaning, and it feels good.

I would not have ever chosen divorce. And there are still some very tough days. But, I'm looking ahead to the positives, and I'm full of hope for the future. I can even daydream about meeting a new man someday, which is kind of exciting all by itself :).

God is good, and so is life.

I don't know about you, but I really enjoy the process of setting up a home. I like figuring out spots for all the furniture and finding homes for the various linens and dishes and other miscellaneous things. I particularly enjoy shopping for new things that meet a need, even a decorating need :). All the same, I'm a bit overwhelmed with the sheer number of boxes of STUFF that my husband unloaded from the moving truck this weekend. When I first moved down I took the essentials and not much else, so finding homes for that was easy. And every weekend since, another small load has come down, which is also manageable. But now I've got the bulk of miscellaneous 'whatever', most of which has been boxed for the past three houses due to not having room. Much of it is not really necessary and needs to be sold/donated/passed on. But I need to sort through it all to determine which is what, and then figure out a process for getting rid of the excess. There are now boxes in every room, particularly the living areas, leaving narrow winding passageways between them. In some ways it's a little bit like Christmas, as I discovered when I unearthed a box of my favorite earthenware mugs. They have been packed for so long I'd forgotten I owned some of them, and several are very definitely going to come in handy this winter. Ditto to the wall-hangings and rugs and so forth, which have also been packed for the past few rentals. This house is also a rental, but I really want to make it feel homey and personal and my own, rather than a generic white box like the last few.

Though, adding all the unpacking/sorting/selling/donating to my already very busy days is going to be a challenge. I guess this is a great opportunity for me to hone my time management skills and rise to the occasion!

Those of you who play MMORPGs have undoubtedly heard more than me about the game Aion. I remained unaware of it's very existence until yesterday evening. I am a fan of World of Warcraft, but certain elements of the game are not quite satisfying to me. So, when I saw the previews at http://na.aiononline.com/ and read a very detailed review at http://www.incgamers.com/Games/33/Previews/aion---tower-of-eternity, I got excited. The gorgeous graphics were a huge selling point, as well as the very moldable character creation process. Also, who doesn't like the idea of characters in flight? I sure do, anyway. I think I might miss the mount and pet collecting side of WoW as that remains one of my favorite elements of the game, but I love that in Aion you can progress on as many crafting occupations as you like, versus two for WoW.

Anyway, I got excited enough to want to get a copy and at least try it for a month. So, which version? The basic, or the limited collector's edition? Well, when I purchased WoW originally I didn't spring for anything fancy, and - going back to pet collecting - I've always regretted it, because there are certain things you can only get from the collectors editions that I very much would like to have. So, I eventually decided it was probably worth the extra bucks if I end up loving the game. Well, whoops. You see, since I only found out about the game on launch date, all the collector's edition copies were sold out a while back in pre-orders. I called every store in town anyway, just in case, and I got lucky. One person had returned their copy, unopened, less than an hour before I called. So, I snatched it up.

I'll let you know later if I like the game enough to be worth the money. I hope so!

I haven't, honest. It just feels that way sometimes. I have not adjusted yet to being a single mom, with all that entails. Particularly on days like today when I wake up with a splitting migraine and still have to somehow crawl down the stairs, figure out food for the older two and a bottle for the baby, then change smelly diapers, and find clothes for everybody. And that's just the first hour.

I look around me at the chaos and I sometimes want to throw up my hands and have done. Then, at other times, I realize that the mounds of clothes have mostly switched from dirty to clean and with an hour or two of concerted effort can transition to the various bedrooms, closets, and dressers in which they belong. I look at the fresh mess on the kitchen floor caused by my children in one meal, and I remember that if they choose to be disgusting and happen to eat any of that mess before I can clean it, at least the floor it fell on is technically clean enough to eat off of. In other words, I'm slowly getting better at this. I'm looking forward to the day when I actually am on top of everything that needs to be done, but at least I am making some progress. I would just very much appreciate not mixing pain into everything else. Bad days are very hard.

And I'm disappointed in two other areas. The first is my writing. I have had no dreams full of plots for stories or novels. I have had no bright-flash inspiration strikes in the shower or while driving. In fact, I have been wracking my brain for a month to come up with a new story for Codex's Halloween contest and have had zero luck. I think I just need to accept that in this season of my life, my brain has decided I must take a break from writing. I hope the desire and ideas come back someday, sooner rather than later.

The other thing that bothers me is the dog situation. I have been wanting to adopt a retired racing greyhound since I was fifteen. I thought that in renting this place, I would finally get the chance I've waited for for so long. But my landlord has dashed my hopes by requiring that any dog I get be under 25 pounds and approved by her. Well, the problem with that is that most small/toy breeds of dog are far more likely to bark, nip, and piddle all over the place - particularly those that are relinquished to shelters. And they often don't do well with small children. This is not just hearsay, I've since contacted a number of animal adoption groups and have been told this by them regarding my situation. In fact, I've been flat turned down by all the ones I've talked to due to my young kids, and the landlord's requirement (mine too!) that the dog be housetrained. I have done a lot of research over the years, and had come to the conclusion that the right greyhound, properly screened by the adoption agency, would be the very best dog for us. I resent that my landlord is effectively telling me who can or cannot become a member of my family. And that she does not trust my judgement or the many many hours I have spent researching. I'm quite tempted to write to her on this and beg for a reconsideration, or offer a larger pet deposit, or something. I just have a hard time accepting 'no' when I am being very reasonable and well-thought out with my situation.