On the Road Again

Okay, not so much on the road as on the plane, train, and autobús, but the saying is a good one!

I love to travel. This time, I have embarked on a somewhat-impromptu trip to gorgeous España. Hey, when the airfare deal is hot, you got to strike! (See also, my upcoming trip to Peru.) I love Spain, and my boyfriend has never been, so I am very excited to be here with him. I studied Spanish in college, including a month-long study abroad program in Spain, and although my skills have gotten verrrrry rusty, I still love the langage and the chance to speak it.

Aside from the opportunity to "grathias" my way across the Spanish countryside, travel opens my mind to the world beyond myself and energizes me to re-approach my own life with renewed perspective. I love seeing the people walking past, each an entire universe unto themself, complete with their own set of thoughts and problems just as deep and intricate as my own. As I am facing some Big Life Decisions right now, it is a much-needed dose of context!

I also find that travel helps fill my creative wells. Yesterday, we traipsed through 14th century ruins of a palace and its accompanying castle fortress, and the place practically sprang to life. I could almost hear characters calling to each other across the tiled courtyards, the creaking of armor as they patrolled the narrow ramparts, the aching sense of enclosure and safety both beneath the thick walls. And that was just one place we visited! While I may not have much time or energy to actually do a  lot of writing when I travel (I prefer to read during my down time--this blog post is brought to you only by my boyfriend's need for a pit stop), it recharges the parts of my brain that can help come forth with details, stories, and lush bits of magic that make a manuscript sing.

The random WiFi hotspot aside, I am disconnected from the world in a way that I badly need from time to time for the benefit of my sanity and my writing.

I hope you are on a good road yourself!

Post-Hiatus Hello

Welcome back! No, not to you, to me!

It’s been a little bit since I’ve blogged. I make no apology, since it was an entirely planned absence on my part. My boyfriend returned from his extended deployment two months ago, and I wanted to spend time focusing on reintegrating him into my life and processing the general change and upheaval that accompanies such a time period. I enjoy blogging, but it’s not my number one priority. Oh, and we went to Guatemala for a couple weeks, which throws one’s schedule quite off kilter!

It was awesome.

But now that things have settled into more of a routine, I have some time to start looking back at my Todoist list of “Blog Post Ideas”. I’m not sure what is coming next—probably a (belated) fun-with-numbers look at the books I read in 2014. What can I say, I crave making graphs.

Anyway, besides blogging, I have a lot going on right now. I still want to spend basically every moment possible with my boyfriend. Turns out I kind of love the guy. Unfortunately/fortunately, he works a lot more than I do and has to stay on his boat for duty every few days, so I still have time to chase after my own pursuits. And oh boy am I chasing!

Right now I am getting up at 6 AM every day to write for ~45 minutes before I go to work. A small change, in some ways, but also a HUGE one. My productivity has gone way up, and I’m already 18,000 words (!) into my newest manuscript, novel 8. That’s just since March 23! I am still researching agents and querying novel 7, which takes a fair bit of time and mental energy (oh the rejections). I am training for a half-marathon, so when I get home from work (around 4:30 PM generally), I work out, plus a long run on Sundays. I just started taking a night class in accounting one night a week (contemplating changing day jobs), which means 3.5 hours on Tuesdays and then doing homework sometime during the rest of the week. And that’s just the basics—on top of that I have all the usual stuff of tending my home and my bunny, cooking, reading, running errands, etc.

But it feels great! Productivity breeds productivity, or so they say. Or if they don’t, they should. I definitely say it! I can’t promise I’ll be able to fit in a weekly blog post, but I do enjoy blogging and so it will stay on my to-do list. Unfortunately, I can’t say when I’ll be able to bring back #FlashFridayFootage. It’s something I have a lot of fun doing, but it takes a lot of time and there isn’t something else I’m willing to take off my plate right now in its place.

I hope everyone else’s spring has been going well! May the flowers be blooming or whatever happens in places that have seasons. =)

I waited 7 months for that kiss...

Mugs, Mugs, Mugs!

Okay, it felt so good to get my last confession off my chest that I have to go again. Yes, my friends, it is time for me to stand up and say: I LOVE MUGS!

They are beautiful containers designed for hot beverages, what isn't there to love? If you're really feeling fancy, they can even be used to make cakes! They look great on shelves, make great souvenirs, but yet are still so practical. Plus I feel extra writerly when I have a mug on my desk. No, I don't think I'm ashamed of my mug collection one bit.

So I will shout it from the rooftops--or at least YouTube!

Getting Real

It was a pretty normal Thursday morning. I texted my boyfriend, “I don’t even believe in souls but I think mine is dying”. It did even occur to me how melodramatic that sounded until after I sent it. I wasn’t trying to be a sad rag or a drama queen. I was just trying to express how I felt in that moment to the person that cares the most about those feelings.

It bothered me, that message. I began to think more seriously about the number that my doctor had given me, for self-referral to a therapist. We’d made light of it in her office, my insistence that my bunnies and my running were more than enough to stave off the mild bouts of depression I was sometimes bothered with. But maybe I wasn’t holding up as well as I thought.

I decided to do a self test on Psychology Today, just to see. As I was taking the test, I found myself thinking “Well, yeah, I feel sad a lot and everything sucks and I get anxious, that’s all normal. I don’t have any of these real symptoms like hearing voices, uncontrollable urges, panic attacks, etc.” It wasn’t until I was almost done that it occurred to me—maybe these things that I think are so fucking normal, that they are pointless to try to fix because I’m not really unwell, maybe other people out there would look at those items and think they are just as outlandish as the others. Maybe not everyone feels the way I do. So maybe I would call that number, later, in some future version of me that could actually pick up the phone and make that step.

When my boyfriend managed to call me that afternoon (a rare and wonderful occurrence as he is on deployment), I ended up lying on the floor of my living room, sobbing. About nothing, really, just an overwhelming agony at the fact of living my life. I was so ashamed. I felt like—feel like—I am falling to pieces. The black hole that sometimes resides in my chest has taken up a residence there so permanent that I’m not sure—that I would really be me without it there.

But enough is enough. I picked up the phone. It was terrifying, honestly. I almost hung up on the receptionist multiple times, just backed out and wanted to say “No, this is all a mistake, I just need to try harder to smile and focus on the positives in my life and I’m wasting your time because I’m just lazy,” but I didn’t. I stayed on the line. I have an appointment next week. I’m terrified to go, but I’m even more terrified to keep going on like this.

(Note: I wrote this post--or a version of it--originally for myself as a journal entry. I decided to post it here in case my experience can help anyone else. I know that many creative types struggle with issues like this, and I do believe there is hope for us all!)

Happy Halloween!!

It's that magical time on Friday, but instead of a video, I am offering good wishes for a wonderful holiday and a magical weekend (or vice versa!).

 

Whatever your Halloween plans are (mine include turning out all the lights, ice cream, and a good book), I hope you enjoy them. Enjoy your last night of freedom pre-NaNo and the fact that it's basically a holiday dedicated to candy--I'll take all your Smarties, if you're one of those. =P

 

 



Happy Halloween! May your night be spooky and delicious and your morning be lazy.

Depression, Suicide, and Other Happy Thoughts

Yesterday I was scrolling through the New Posts tab over at AbsoluteWrite when I saw a post titled "Robin Williams Dead at 63". I couldn't believe it. I went straight to Twitter and it was the top trending topic—RIP Robin Williams. Dead from apparent suicide by hanging.

I spent much of the afternoon watching YouTube clips. Particularly one of my favorite Disney songs ever, made brilliant by the comedic stylings of the incomparable Mr. Williams.

How I learned what baklava was.

And as I started thinking about my blog post today, I thought that I should write about suicide. I should write about depression. I should try to share what it is like to be mired in an endless stream of self-recrimination. How it feels to want desperately to die and to hate yourself for not being brave enough to do it. How it feels when someone you love and care about is gone because of it. The dread that comes along with knowing someone close to you is struggling with that burden and you can't help it or lift it. The days when getting out of bed seems pointless, when sitting at a red light you plead with the universe to send an out-of-control semi crashing into your car. When a challenge as small as choosing what to wear can seem overwhelmingly huge. The ways you deal with it and the ways you don't because it can't truly be dealt with. Wondering if other people are as fucked up as you but only feeling worse when you realize many are.

But.

I can't do it. I can't bring myself to truly sit down and write about my own struggles and the struggles I have witnessed in others. Instead I will point you to PostSecret, a site that has helped me connect with the humanity in those around me. To the Suicide Hotline who once fielded a call from me that helped pull me back, though it lasted no more than 30 seconds and they never had a chance to say much at all. To this touching post by David Wong that discusses the pain in comedy. And leave you with this amazing poem by Walt Whitman, made so famous by Robin Williams.

O Me! O Life!

BY WALT WHITMAN

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,

Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

                                       Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

I Need Help: Blank Notebooks Edition

I have a confession, internet. I have an obsession with blank notebooks. I cannot resist their siren call. I stop at the notebooks aisle in Target just to flip through them. It's not just fancy notebooks, either! A simple one subject Mead can tempt me to plunk down my credit card. Not that I can say no to the thick-paged, leather journals either!

I don't know quite how to explain it. I haven't written anything significant in longhand since the first draft of novel 1 (about four years ago). I journal on a very sporadic basis. I could easily get by with one or two notebooks, but I have far, far more than that...

When I decided to write this post, I spent maybe 5 minutes collecting notebooks. This is what I found in that space of time (it's definitely not all of them):

A spiral of spiral bounds!

Do I use these notebooks? Ummmm...well...okay, there's maybe 50 pages in use between all of them. Whenever I buy a notebook I try to come up with a use for it. Sometimes I will actually use it for that. Usually that lasts about a week and then it is relegated to a dusty shelf or storage bin. Or the floor of my office, which I swear I am going to clean soon (probably when I move next month).

Let's take a quick tour of a few selected notebooks, shall we?

The red marker was the only one I had. Ugh. Clash.

This notebook, as it is so helpfully labeled, is part of my unofficial studies of philosophy. This is a subject that has always interested me—probably not surprising considering my father is a philosophy professor. He bought me Sophie's World when I was in 5th grade, and to this day it is one of my favorite books. I've probably read it at least five times. So anyway, this notebook was for my thoughts while reading Philosophy: 100 Essential Thinkers, a 203-page book I bought five (?) years ago, of which I am on page 21. Similarly, I have used 20 pages of this 3-subject notebook. I swear, I am going to get back to this! Someday...

Oooh, another spiral!

This is a sketchbook. I bought it early in 2013 to create a record/motivation of my weight loss. At the time I was 155 lbs (up from a low of 149) and worried about the gain. I used 5 pages in the book and my weight is currently 160 lbs. Oops.

Told you I couldn't resist Meads.

This notebook was purchased over five years ago to be my at-work notebook. However, the tag did not come off the front very easily, as you can see. So it got relegated to scrap paper. Over half the pages have been torn out over the years, and I haven't used it in gods know how long, but I still keep it under my end table. Just in case.

I feel daydreamy just looking at it!

This is one of those notebooks that I bought solely because it was cute, while insisting that I was going to use it to jot down writing ideas. (I have a whole other writing notebook that isn't even in the stack above, by the way.) I have used exactly 1 page since I bought it over a year ago. But it's still damn cute!

Orange is my favorite color, if the blog theme doesn't give it away.

This is my hard copy journal. I have had this since the beginning of 2012, and well, that bookmark should tell you just how much I've used it. Although the times I have, it has been very therapeutic! Speaking of which, I really need to journal. Maybe tomorrow.

Hedgehogs!

This is an example of actually needing and using a notebook! I bought this cutie specifically for the purpose of doing problem sets/exams from my actuary textbooks. I used an entire other notebook and this one is 3/4 full. Of course I stopped studying for an actuary career (no jobs in my geographic location), but I can't get rid of the notebook. You never know when it'll come in handy again!

So, there we have it. A small sampling of my deep and abiding love for blank notebooks. You might think that, being aware of the problem, I would be able to resist the lure. HA. Just today I was flipping through some blanks at Target, and I think I know which one I'm going to get next!

And don't even get me started on pens...

An Ode to My Support Staff

I wanted to write about something a little bit different today.

Writing is a very solitary endeavor. Only room for one butt in the chair and one set of hands on the keyboard, after all. Ideas spring into my head from nowhere and everywhere, and they are scribbled on scrap paper or jotted into my notebooks or typed into random Word files. Some are not written down until they are ready to come together into something new. Some never leave my head at all. This is all an individual effort.

But no man is an island, as much as I sometimes try to be. So today I want to write about someone who is indirectly indispensable to my writing process. Especially because this week he is leaving on deployment, and I don't even know what I am going to do!

His name is Jon.

Jon and I went on our first date November 26, 2011 if you ask me. If you ask him, it was the 25th. Depends on whether you want to count a certain tennis match. Anyway, it's been a while!

I don't remember when I first told him about my writing. It was within the first six months or so. Now, my writing is not a secret. I am not ashamed of my writing (obviously, hence the public blog about it!), and I will usually discuss it with just about anyone. But it is very personal for me. I don't typically bring it up unless asked, and I don't usually describe it in much detail. So it was just incredible how he always made me feel comfortable about being open with him and how supportive he has been.

He has read manuscripts that no one but myself has ever seen. He will listen to me bitch and moan about the publishing process. When I don't feel like writing, he encourages me to give it a shot anyway. He is unbelievably supportive, and I think sometimes he has more confidence that I am going to "make it" than I do. (It probably helps that he is not as familiar with the crushingly depressing statistics and process of actually doing that.) He understands when I just have to disappear into my office for a couple hours. He lifts me up when I am dejected and sick of rejection without acting like everything is sugar drops and gum balls.

I could be a writer without my boyfriend. But I am so glad I don't have to be! Thanks, boobear, I love you!!

Now there's a damn cute couple! ;)

Big Endings

Even the beefiest chapters eventually have to end, both in writing and in life.

This past week, I signed my name on the bottom of my DD-214 and walked off my ship for the very last time. So many thoughts have been fighting for supremacy in my head, but it is impossible to define the experience in terms of any one.

Wearing this for the very last time.

My military career began, in a way, ten years ago. I admitted to my parents that I was interested in enlisting in the military. This was somewhat of a shock to everyone, who had no idea that bookish, delicate Nora had been harboring these ideas. It was kind of a pipe dream, though, and I figured I wasn't really cut out for it—I couldn't do a single push-up, after all. But my parents encouraged me that if I really wanted to, I could try. And so I researched my options, decided on the Navy, and waited impatiently for my 17th birthday so I could enlist.

My dad had some other ideas. He was much more in favor of the whole idea than my mom, but he envisioned me as an officer. That was completely different than my plan of doing one enlistment and then going to college. I wasn't feeling ready yet to go to college. I was a stellar student, but I was still struggling with the idea of what I wanted to do. Plus I hate telling people what to do! But my dad wanted me to at least look into it, and so I scheduled an interview with the ROTC recruiter. I was offered an on-the-spot scholarship from him, and I began to revise my plans. Maybe I could go to college first. Being an officer would definitely have perks and better prepare me for life afterwards (I had dreams of a political career at that point). I applied to colleges and picked out Boston University.

At the same time, I had a friend who was applying to service academies. He teased me about "only" doing ROTC, so I applied to USNA to prove that I could get in. I was accepted, but I still planned on doing ROTC. Except there was a hiccup with my paperwork, and I ended up on the waitlist for BU's ROTC unit. I remember sitting on the stairs of my house, crying. My life was over. I had no options. I wasn't cut out for USNA. But my dad talked me down, encouraged me that I could do it, and I sent in my acceptance to USNA. (About a week before I was to report, I got notified that the issue had been resolved and there was room for me at BU's unit. Too late!)

On June 29, 2005, I stood in the hot sun of Tecumseh Court and swore in to the United States Navy as a Midshipman. I was 17 years old.

Now, 9 years later, my service is completed. I'm 26 and still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up (politics is definitely out!). It's scary, standing on the edge of a whole new chapter. Staring at a blank page of life, hoping I'll find the right way to fill it up. But there must be new chapters, and my book is far from done.

Midnight in Paris

While watching Diane Keaton accept Woody Allen's award at the Golden Globes a few weeks ago, it occurred to me that I had never seen a single Woody Allen movie. I knew who he was, with the thick glasses and the marriage to his sorta step-daughter, but as the clips of all his most famous works played, none seemed familiar. I checked his filmography and, sure enough, I had never seen a single one.

A little while after this, as the whole media furor began to build, I mentioned the fact to my boyfriend. He is more of a movie buff than I am, and he has seen a couple, so he recommended Midnight in Paris as one I might enjoy. Turns out my boyfriend must know me pretty well!

Maybe it's the writer in me, but how can you not just gasp when you realize that is the Zelda Fitzgerald? Watching Gill discover his literary idols in all their glory and vanity and humanity was amazing. Gertrude Stein as a beta reader?? Where do I sign up?!

Not to mention that Inez was one of the most delightfully horrid characters I've met.

It made me think a lot about my writing. Hemingway on having another writer beta your work: "If it's bad, I'll hate it. If it's good, then I'll be envious and hate it even more. You don't want the opinion of another writer." Do I think that's 100% true? No. But it is something to keep in mind. We should want the opinion of readers, not other writers. At least, that is why I write. Not to impress other writers or to hobnob around in Paris bars trying to steal lovers from Pablo Picasso, but to make people feel when they read my work. To be astounded and grieved and amused and every possible thing in between. I want people to hate my Inezs and to shake their heads at my Gills and to laugh at my Dalis.

Anyway. The movie in itself was nothing all that special, but for me as a writer, it was nothing short of magical.

[Also, I've been learning French for the past year, and I am dying to go to Paris! Maybe it can rejuvenate my writing. (Said every writer ever, it seems like!)]

Merry Christmas

Whatever your traditions, wherever you are, I hope you are having a wonderful day!

Here's hoping Santa brings me lots of words...

Happy Thanksgiving!

Ah, it's that time of year again. The time of elastic waistbands and tryptophan-induced couch naps, the one day where it is okay to be unabashedly gluttonous. Yes, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays!

I am on my own for the holiday this year, but that doesn't hold much sadness for me. I wish I could be with my boyfriend, of course, but since I can't, I am perfectly content to spend my day mired in pajamas, decaf coffee, and a nice dinner at Ruth's Chris.

I am thankful for many things in my life. Thankful to be well situated in life, thankful for my home, thankful for my boyfriend, thankful for a long weekend off work, thankful for my health, thankful for cinnamon tea and pumpkin pie. Thankful for my blog and my readers, few though they may be. =) I like having a day every year to not only stuff my face, but to take a moment to take a deep breath and let my complaints go for a while.

So whatever you are up to today, I hope you have something in your life to be thankful for!

And—just to make this somewhat relevant—I am thankful for the opportunity to pursue my dream of being a "real" writer.

Happy Thanksgiving!