Starting Again

My friends, today I’d like to share a great secret with all of you.

You can have as many ideas and good intentions as you want.  You can have goals and dreams and freaking aspirations.  You can give yourself pep talks.  You can have a production schedule.  You can even actually write things down on a calendar.  You can have a plan.

But if you get a head cold from hell, none of that matters.  Everything – everything – comes to a full, complete, dead stop while you deal with rivers of mucus and sinus pain making you want to yank out all of your teeth and trying not to hack up a lung every night.

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Keeping On

boulderWhen we left Betsy many weeks ago, she was staring at the shining cities of the story worlds she was creating.  Harry, the white gerbil who is the Guide on Betsy’s Quest to become a successful independent author, was with her.  Harry wants to upgrade from white gerbil to white hare or even a white stag, and he was very excited to announce that his tail had transformed from a long, skinny gerbil tail to a rabbit puffball.

But, except for sporadic blog posts, it’s been weeks since we’ve heard from Betsy.  And Harry hasn’t heard from her at all.

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Distractions

dis·trac·tion

dəˈstrakSH(ə)n/noun

  1. 1.  a thing that prevents someone from giving full attention to something else. “the company found passenger travel a distraction from the main business of moving freight.”

synonyms: diversion, interruption, disturbance, interference, hindrance   “a distraction from the real issues.”

  1. 2. extreme agitation of the mind or emotions.  “he knew she was nervous by her uncharacteristic air of distraction”

synonyms: frenzy, hysteria, mental distress, madness, insanity, mania

 

Distractions can come in many shapes and sizes.  Sometimes they aren’t all that pleasant – “what’s going on with my health?”  “what’s going on with my job?” “what’s going on with my money?”

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Striving for Sanity

tornadoI don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, but I’m kind of a neurotic mess of a girl. I’m compulsive, obsessive, obsessive-compulsive, addictive, paranoid, anxious, and fearful, to name a few of my more endearing traits.

But other than that, I’m fine.

I’ve been a bit more insane than usual over the last few weeks / months. The election did it to me. The news of what’s happening in the world did it to me. The good people dying.  The rising hatred and divisiveness on the Internet. The breathless flame-wars on social media. The shouts of radio talk hosts, or cable news anchors, or bloggers.  Everyone who wants to tell you what you should think, and believe, and do.

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The Magic of Finishing the First Step

bloomI’m sorry I haven’t been around much the last couple of weeks. I decided to put the blog and the newsletter (have you subscribed to my newsletter yet? Hmmmm?) on hold for a little while so I could work on my current manuscript with more focused intensity. Then, last week, I had a few days off from my day job and was able to work on it with an even more focused, focused intensity.

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Lost In The Underbrush

overgrownpathLast weekend, I found myself at a point in my manuscript that’s, sadly, very familiar. I have found myself in the exact same place in all of the other books I’ve written (whether published or unpublished).

I realized I didn’t know where the hell I was going.

Until then, I had THOUGHT I knew where I was going.

I was sure I had a plan. An outline, if you will.

I thought I’d put in all the footsteps and building blocks and whatnot to get to my destination.

I thought I saw the destination, and was working towards it.

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