I Don't Care

Remember that old song, I Don't Care? I like the lyrics because they paint a pretty good description of me.


I had an almost argument with a friend the other day; I say almost, because when I realized she didn't/wouldn't believe that in most cases I don't care what others think, I changed the subject. It wasn't worth getting upset over because...I didn't care if she believed me or not. :-)

I have a small group of people who I hold dear what they think of my behaviors and actions...to a point. Another example, if my mom says she hates my new tattoo I don't care. Would I rather she like it? I guess... it's a tattoo, not a kid. Would a compliment have been nice? Yeah...who doesn't like those? But her liking it or not in the end doesn't matter.

Same with people liking me in general. It's nicer if people I meet like me, especially when it's, say, in-laws. It's certainly easier. But if they don't, it's not a requirement. How could I make them anyway? Not everyone is going to.

I've experienced this phenomenon in other areas besides the interpersonal, such as dancing. There are a million forms of dance, each with its own rules and criteria of what is deemed "good." The ballroom community, for example, believes they have the ultimate criteria down pat. I don't agree. So if a ballroom person doesn't like the way I dance... I don't care.

So what does this have to do with writing? You know I'm going to tie it in somehow. :-) I've had people ask me if I "care" what publishers think of my work. That depends on what is meant by "care." Do I care if they want to buy it? Yes! It's a huge bummer if a desired publisher rejects one of my manuscripts. But do I care if they like it? No. Here's why. At this point I know I can write, so it doesn't bother me if a particular publisher thinks I can't, and some rejections do imply that. Are compliments nice? Very. But I'd rather have a "mean" we want your book but it needs a lot of work rather than a "nice" we love your book but we can't use it.

Every publisher has its own set of criteria of what is good. If you want to be published you have to conform to each unique set of specifications, and by that definition writers have to "care." But in my opinion, caring if they like it or not is too subjective to base one's ego on.

Same goes with people :-)

I'm happy-go-lucky,
they say that I'm plucky.
Content and carefree.
They say I'm crazy, got no sense,
but I don't care.
They may or may not mean offense,
but I don't care.
You see, I'm sort of independent.
I am my own superintendent.
And my star is on the ascendent,
that's why I don't care.

Goth Susi

I’m not much of a doll person; I don’t hate them or anything, but they’ve always seemed a little creepy, aka Twilight Zone’s I’m Talking Tina and I’m Going To Kill You. Shudder. As a female kid I did have a few and have kept a couple. My favorite was a life sized doll (I know, REALLY creepy) named Susi. Susi has sat in my childhood rocker for as long as I can remembers, clad in a pink fluffy dress.

This next bit many seem unrelated but if you’ve read my blog you know it will tie together in the end. As I’ve said so many times, a writer's lifestyle is difficult for many reasons, one of which is the understanding that income levels rise very slowly. I’m doing better than I was when I started, but I’m not making anywhere near what I did in corporate-ville.

I know that and have accepted it, but sometimes I long for those flush times. So the other day I was drooling over some unneeded item of clothing when I thought of poor Susi, wearing the same stupid dress for the last 40 years. So I did something about it.

I used an old skirt of mine that didn’t stretch enough for dancing as a dress. I gave her a pair of my lace socks, added a red headband, clipped on some earrings, and last but not least, gave her a punky armband…Goth Susi arises!

Dressing her in new garb was so much fun, and it didn’t cost me a dime. The old Kelly would have found a site with doll clothes and ordered her something. The new Kelly realizes that the fun comes from doing it myself. And that’s something the writer’s lifestyle has taught me; I don’t need a lot of money or stuff to make me happy. Would I add back in fancy vacations and lavish gifts to my family if I ever make it big? Yeah. Do I need those things to live a joyous life? Nope.

Hummm…maybe Goth Susi would like to be a fairy next…

It’s Harder Than It Looks

I’ve mentioned this before, but it seems like everyone can sing…or write. Nary a few words about my latest book escapes my lips when the asker (and hey, weren’t they asking about me) launches into his or her own desire to write.

I’m cool with that. Mostly. Maybe they do have a book in there. And I’m willing, within reason, to help.  I can’t read every manuscript because I’d never get anything done, but I will offer advice, such as I have, to anyone.

I was talking with a writer the other day. I read his book because he’s a friend. It was good. But as we talked about the other part of writing, aka, marketing, rejections, and more rejections, I could see his heart sinking.

He was sad to find out you have to wait a long time to get a book back from a publisher or agent, and sometimes “no” is simply they never write or send back. You can’t, for the most part, simultaneously submit. Agents and publishers are sometimes less than kind. They can be excited one minute and then decide they don’t want your material. It doesn’t pay very well at first. And on and on. At one point he whispered that’s not fair.

Yeah…sometimes it isn’t. When I’m feeling that way I bring to mind a Jareth quote about unfairness from the movie Labyrinth: you say that so often, I wonder what your basis of comparison is? Publishing is a business and business isn’t personal when it does what it does. It’s just business.That's my basis of comparison.

But of course, that doesn’t help much when you get a mean rejection or never hear back from an agent or publisher. I felt bad for my friend, but that conversation also made me realize I have toughed it out, and I will continue to tough it out. Writing is not for the faint of heart. If nothing else, I can be glad for my stalwart, if often bruised, one. Everyone who has ever sent anything off into the Never Neverland of publishing should be.

Jareth would be so proud. At least I would hope he wouldn't give me one  his nasty peaches. :-)

Who You Talkin’ To?

I talk to myself all the time. Sometimes out loud. I always have, and didn’t think too much about it until graduate school. My degrees are in psychology. Yeah, that’s right, the major that gives names to everything you do. So when I got into school I did a lot of contemplation on just who am I talking to when I speak to myself, and who is driving the bus I call Kelly?

A little background: shrinks that focus on the physical brain call this part of us the primal brain, or the reptilian brain. It’s really old and concerned with our survival. When you pull your hand away from a hot stove that’s the old ‘gator mind in action. It can also show up in more subtle ways, like distrust of a stranger. You can kind of see its point in Neolithic times; better to run or take the first swing than to risk your own head getting bashed. Psychologists who focus less on the brain itself and more on that fuzzy concept, the mind, call this part of us the inner child, the id (Freud), etc.

I think it’s all the same. Whatever you want to call it, most people in the field would agree that 1), it’s ancient, and 2), it’s concerned about your welfare. Unfortunately, sometimes that inner voice doesn’t always mesh with what you want in your life; instead it chatters away about unreal threats, tempts us down an easier path, or can be downright mean, all in the name of protection.

Writers can feel this acutely. Constantly have one’s work evaluated and rejected can take a toll on the most resilient inner child. So here’s what I’ve done; I’ve named mine. His name is Dude. He looks like a cross between Carson from the Queer Eye TV show and Felix from the Odd Couple (TV show from the 70s for those of you too young to remember). Dude is constantly berating me for not writing enough, not editing effectively, he worries that I may never have huge sales, and comes down hard if I make a mistake like sending something twice to the same agent. He wants me to be perfect, because perfection will make me safe.

NOTE: Not that either of these two would ever do such a thing, they are simply the images that popped into my head of what Dude looks like.

When he gets on my nerves I tell him so. I start out nice: thanks Dude, but I got this covered. I progress to a bit more firm if he keeps it up: Dude, get a grip! If he still persists I say Dude, SUCK IT UP AND MOVE ALONG. I rarely have to get to level three.

Actually, we get along pretty well. The reason for that is I acknowledge Dude is just trying to help. And he does get my butt in gear if I’m having a pity party and he helps me consider how I could have done something better. All in all, I appreciate him, but just as I respect Dude, Dude has to respect me. Which is weird, because Dude IS me.

So anyway, my sister and I were talking about our inner person and she named hers too and said it helped. I had several more conversations with my husband and some friends and they were all delighted with the concept. So…I thought I’d throw it out there for all of you. Try it and see. What’s your inner child’s name? What does he or she look like? Sound like? What does your person say about your writing? What’s valid? What’s not?

And BTW, it doesn’t have to be a human. My sister’s isn’t. But it does have teeth.
:-)

A Good Airing Out

My grandmother used to say this every spring; she’d take out all of her rugs and beat them over the clothes line, a year’s worth of dirt, dust, and skin cells soon wafted over the countryside. She would also scrub everything within an inch of its life, the proverbial spring cleaning.

I don’t do it in the spring. Actually, I don’t do it at all, not like she did. And spring never seemed the right time. I’d much rather be tidying my garden. I clean in the winter right after the holiday stuff is put away. I also sort my closets, eliminating what doesn’t work for me anymore.

For example, my dancing clothes. When Gary and I first started dancing I thought I’d be dressing in ball gowns with lots of glitter. Still do the glitter, but we are way too jumpy and dippy for me to wear long dresses, so out they went.

I clean in other areas too. For writing, I go through my records and make sure all my manuscripts are out. I send reminder notes to publishers or agents if they haven’t responded within their stated time frame. Along with my usual tasks this year I’ve realized that perhaps some publishers and agents just don’t work for me.

At this point in my writing career I know I can write; I wouldn’t have published as much as I have nor would I have agents asking to read manuscripts if I couldn’t. However…I think because my stories often don’t fit within a prescribed genre big publishers and agents don’t want that kind of risk in today’s market. I say that without pride or regret, as my dad would say, just an observation.

So I’ve decided to focus on boutique publishers; these are small to medium houses that focus on something out of the mainstream. I sent my Malaysian story, Chimera, to a publisher who only takes books with protagonists of color. I sent my after death story, Albatross, to a “new age” publisher. And so on. There are places that do unusual. They may not be big, but perhaps like Goldilocks and little bear’s bed, they will be just right for me.

Happy New Year.

Fear

Fear is not a good feeling. It can be helpful, say, in getting out of the way of a speeding car or quickening one’s pace sensing danger, but often I think fear paralyzes and causes futile worry and angst.

I was reading a weekly post of life coach Dane McCullough this morning; I am blessed to count her as a friend and I read her posts every week with great anticipation. They are always worthy of thought, but sometimes they hit me square between the eyes. Like today. Not the main part, but in a PS she wrote to address many of her client’s concerns about the earth. Here is her statement back to them:

I invite you to remember that fear is never part of the truth.

Her point being that fear might bring attention to a problem, but it is not the best way of solving it. Rather, one should reach inside and outside to find a peaceful answer.

I love that. Then I thought about how to apply this philosophy to writing. Writers fear many things. Will I ever get that big break? Did I piss off that agent because I sent her my book twice by mistake? Ditto a publisher who wanted something after the deadline had passed and I’d already sold it? Will I ever be able to support myself with writing? But I think the number one big bogy of a fear underneath all of that is: am I any good?

As I’ve stated before, “good” is in the eye of the beholder. However, I believe most writers would like a big slice of the population to consider their work “good”, aka, a publisher bought it and then lots of people bought it.

The truth is, no matter how hard a writer works and/or how good a writer is, there will be only a small population that ever has a best seller. And some of those happen posthumously. That’s the reality. And that’s the fear.

I have days where fear dominates. Why keep trying? Have I already done my best work? And is that work just not good enough to generate a best seller? Sigh.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

I keep covers from every book I’ve sold or magazine I’ve been published in. Sometimes I make myself read old stories. I’ve started doing more shorts to get that published “high” more often. I send stuff to my sister. She always likes my stories. :-) New nail polish has been known to work. Or a bath and a glass of wine. These are my fear strategies.

And next time Big Bogy Fear comes knocking, I’ll have another helpful routine: remember what Dane said. I will let fear motivate perhaps, but I won’t let it influence my solutions.

Oh, and if you ever want to read an incredible story about how Dane didn’t allow fear to keep her from leaping into the unknown, read her bio.

She’s a great coach too, if you need one of those.


Dane McCullough
317.455.DANE (3263)
www.LifeCoachDane.com

Writers and Cats

I know it's a stereotype, but this site is so cute I couldn't help it. :-)

http://writersandkitties.tumblr.com/

What’s Important

I read an article the other day in one of my fashion mags. Yes, a fashion mag. Like TV, they get no respect. But anyway, the article was about the author’s struggle for balance between personal achievement and personal relationships. She talked about Carol Joyce Oates, who recently wrote a book on grief after the death of her husband.

Oates states that having been published often and praised often did nothing to ease her loss. And how obtaining her heart's desire of having her work recognized was, in the end, not important. She uses Mark Twain, who lost a child, as an example. Would he have given up Huckleberry Finn for that child? No question, said Oates.

When I first started reading this article I thought to myself, well, easy enough for YOU to say, Carol. You’ve published, like, 50 books. I know she must be devastated losing her husband. But still. Then I kept on reading. The Mark Twain story got me. I think it was the exchange part of it.

Which forced me to realize that every time you choose to pursue an individual goal, you sacrifice time with others. With loved ones. With your special partner. I’m not saying I think lovers, family members, and friends should be glued to each other at all times. But the book for a child touched me deeply.

At this point in my life I want Big Recognition for my books. But…at other times I have wanted different things. I’m sure years hence I will want something else. What has stayed the same is my connection to those I love. And although I haven’t known my husband all my life, I cannot imagine life without him now.

When I did counseling work I sometimes asked people and groups what they would want on their tombstone. This exercise often provided great clarity. For me, too. Would I like Famous Author on mine? Sure. But if I could only have one phrase, I’d rather have Kelly, beloved of Gary.

I’d trade any book for him.

A Nice Gift

I think the best sorts of gifts are surprises: a card in the mail for no reason at all, my husband bringing home a special kind of bath goo, a stranger telling me she loves my dress.

I received a totally unexpected gift yesterday from a literary agency. I never really expected to hear from them one way or another…lots of agencies don’t answer when they mean no, especially big famous agencies like this one. I certainly didn’t expect the kind note I received in response to a query.

No, I wasn’t offered representation, but I got something almost as good…a personal note from the agent’s assistant telling me not to give up, and that my book, although it didn’t fit the agent’s portfolio, would surely find representation somewhere.

She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t even have to answer at all. But that small paragraph made my day, and more than that, fortified my resolve.

Thanks, Jenna.

The Blue Sword

The Blue Sword is the name of one of Robin McKinley’s books, but I love the Hero and the Crown even more. The blue sword is an important part of both stories, which is why I chose it as the title of this post.

I’m in-between books now, a disquieting time, I think, for any writer, but more for me this time than any other point in my writing career. I’ve written many books and short stories, and sold a number of them. I have one at an agent’s, another (asked for) at a publisher, and am waiting to hear back on several other queries from agents and publishers. I could write a sequel in any of the recent worlds I’ve created, but which? I don’t want to write a sequel until I’ve sold the first…made that mistake before.

I could come up with another world, but I find I’m rather tired. I love the worlds I’ve created, and I’d like to stay in one for awhile. So here I am, waiting, and wondering what to do next.

I’ve almost decided to do something completely different from what I’ve been doing, first person paranormal mysteries and YA adventures, and delve deeply into another form and format…a traditional, third person fantasy.

A traditional fantasy would have different meanings depending on who you ask. For me, it means some kind of alternate world with the protagonists on some kind of quest. One of my favorite in this genre is Robin McKinley. I’m reading a collection of her short stories now, and will probably read the Hero and the Crown before I begin mine.

Her characters are all wonderful, the stories are fabulous, and the settings and descriptions are the best I’ve read, but what I love the most is the sparseness of conversation. Her people speak without speaking, letting their actions say what is in their hearts. Reading her books inspire me.

And besides, on a cold Indiana afternoon there is nothing better.

Cleaning

My sister dubbed me a clothes horse years ago, and as Garfield the cat would say, I resemble that remark. I retorted that I found my stuff on sale, the Goodwill, and more recently on ebay …there’s nothing like the thrill of finding designer jeans , tags ON, for a song. She replied back well yes, but that doesn’t change how much stuff you have. Very true.

So now and then I do a giant sorting and clearing out. It’s no fun to do, but it feels good when I’m done.

I do the same with my writing records. I’ve finished editing my new book, The Prodigy, and that same sister is now editing it. (She is my first and best editor). I’ve completed the synopsis and cover letter. I’m not ready to start a new book…the contemplation phase is still going.

So what to do…besides holiday stuff? It's time to do some cleaning. I check over where all of my manuscripts are, and how long respective peoples have had them. One needed a polite ahem, are you still looking at it? Another had passed the allotted time with no answer (unless you are dealing with a particular person or you have sent materials, silence means no). So I found another place to submit that one.

Being a writer means you own your own business, and no one but you is going to remind you that these tasks need tending to. A manuscript in limbo is a story that isn’t published. And it gives a sense of control to a business that often feels like the writer has no control.

Just like eliminating those beautiful, designer shoes that hurt my feet. :-)

Kinda Wow…

…is how I’m feeling this morning. It isn’t a big wow, perhaps more like a quiet woo. :-)

I finished another book: The Prodigy. I still have some editing to go. But it’s done.

I realized as I was checking for overused words and phrases, mistakes of spelling, punctuation, and consistency, that I’ve finally found that writing groove: idea gestation, compose, DONE, edit, submit, sell. (Or course, there is another whole list of stuff to do after you sell, but this is my list.)

I’m very happy I have another one under my belt. I’m satisfied to see my writing technically improve with every book…I don’t have to edit as much, yea! I’m looking forward to the contemplation and cogitation that comes with starting a new story.

But what I’m most glad about is that I finally feel like I’ve settled in. Yeah, still waiting for an agent and still very much wanting to have that best seller, but in the meantime, I feel like a writer.

A real one.

Quiet

I’m a quiet person by nature, an introvert. For those of you not familiar with personality typing, introversion is not a bad thing; it simply means one is internally motivated. Behaviorally, most introverts listen more than they talk. I chose a career as a psychologist because my introversion played into this natural tendency.

But I worked in a corporate arena, which is very different from private practice.

In corporate America quiet people are often labeled as less smart or capable. So I developed a fast talking, sarcastic, morbidly witty persona. This wasn’t all bad. I became very good at public speaking. I learned how to defend myself. And most importantly, the executives I worked with responded well to dark wit; they wanted quick solutions to their problems delivered in a humorous manner.

But that persona was never me. After I left the corporate world, I interacted less and less with people who appreciated that personality overlay. And of course, I had never used it with my friends and family. I worried for a while that I was loosing my “edge.”

My husband and I were taking a walk the other day and he asked me if everything was OK. I was surprised. We were strolling through the woods, listening to the birds, admiring the beautiful fall colors and bright blue sky. I asked him why he asked. Because you’re so quiet, he said. I just smiled and said everything was wonderful.

Paying attention to my own thoughts and observations was my first step in reclaiming the quiet. I had doused my internal voice for many years. Step two has been listening to other people’s thoughts and observations without necessarily trying to fix. I’ve realized that fixing has been a way for me to prove my worth and my intelligence, and that usually people don’t want to be fixed, they just want someone to listen.

This change in my thinking has caused me to understand people in a way I’ve never done before. Good for personal growth of course, but it also gives me a huge pallet upon which to paint stories. Humans are endless fascinating. And everyone has a story to tell.

It’s amazing what one can hear when not talking. :-)

Feelin' Groovy

I’m smack dab in the middle of my new, as yet unnamed, book. Well, maybe not exactly in the middle, but pretty darn close. This one’s going fast…I love writing mysteries. It’s such fun creating a puzzle and then solving it. And although I do enjoy writing for young adults, it’s also interesting to compose a story with an adult protagonist.

Today I finished a chapter, sat back in my desk chair, and realized how happy I was. Even though I’ve got a lot going on with books and publishers and agents oh my, it’s a good busy. The writing lifestyle, while hard, is also wonderful.

Yes, there are pitfalls, yes it can be disheartening. But writing is also exhilarating. And writers are rarely bored; there are always new characters and plots popping into my head. I feel very lucky to have the time, the inspiration, and the tenacity I need to write.

I’m not much of a take a break, bask in the now, gather up roses kind of gal. But today, just for a moment, I understood how much fun I was having.

It was a great couple of minutes. :-)

Back to work.

Slow down, you move too fast
You gotta make the morning last
Just kickin' down the cobblestones
Lookin' for fun and
Feelin' groovy

Hello lampost
Whatcha knowin'?
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain'tcha got no rhymes for me?
Doo Bee Doo Doo,
Feelin' groovy

Got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morningtime drop all its petals on me...
Life, I love you,
All is groovy

Paul Simon

Wild and Wooly

It’s been a little crazy lately.

Right now I have a complete manuscript with an agent. She did not specifically ask for an exclusive read, but that’s pretty much understood. Another asked for the same book, but only wanted the synopsis. I sent the synopsis. However… after reading the synopsis if he wants the whole thing, I must wait until the first agent responds. (The thinking is the first agent is putting a lot of time into reading a complete manuscript while the second agent only has a page or so.)

It is perfectly acceptable to query more than one agent. If is also OK to query agents and a publisher about the same novel. If you sell it you can tell the agent hey…I sold it to a big publisher, want to represent me?

So. While the agent stuff is going on I sent that same complete novel to one publisher. Another complete novel is at a different publisher. Yet another publisher asked to see a synopsis of a different book, which means I can’t send that book anywhere else, even though they only have the synopsis. Publishers and agents have different rules.

This is all par for the course. Agents and publishers have unique wants and requirements; some want the whole thing right away, some want queries first, some ask for partials. Add to this mix...exclusive requests at different times in the process.

Yes, that’s a lot to keep track of. I have a document that I meticulously keep notes of where everything is. But I’m sure I’ve made mistakes. I don’t know specifics, I only know in the hundreds of documents I’ve sent I’m positive that I have. I try not to worry about it. Editors, agents, and publishers are, after all, human. What I hope is that if I’ve queried an agent more than once, he or she will smile and say that woman really wanted me. :-)

But since I do want to be professional, I do my best. I think all writers should. The tracking system doesn't have to be fancy; mine is a word doc with every book's comings and goings.

Remember that if you’re feeling like you are in a bit of a writer’s whirlwind that’s a good thing; you have a bunch of stories out there and a number of people who want to consider said stories. As my husband would say, chill, relax, breathe.

And keep track.

Taking It

Take it like a man. Just get over it. I was only joking. Don’t be so thin skinned. I’m just trying to help.

Heard any of those? Our society says one should be able to “take” a joke, meaning one should be able to laugh at oneself. I whole-heartedly agree with not taking yourself too seriously. Let’s face it, we all do silly things. To pretend otherwise is to deny your humanness.

I have a hard time defining the difference between a playful jab and a stinging slap. But like the famous Supreme Court judge and his definition of pornography, I know it when I see it. For me, when someone is “teasing” me about things I am insecure about that is no fun. Sometimes even if I am secure, if I hear about it over and over it becomes tiresome.

Unless it is a big deal I just ignore it. That way when something really bugs me I know people will listen and hopefully cease.

As a writer, “taking it” most often occurs when your book is being edited. An editor’s job is to find the mistakes. You WANT them to find mistakes. Another part of their role is to suggest changes and additions. Again, you want their advice. The tricky part is knowing when they have gone too far.

I’ve worked with sweet editors, ridiculing editors, picky editors, and editors who want to completely change my story. I don’t say anything to Mr. Ridicule or Ms. Picky; I ignore the bashes and follow their rules, even if I don’t agree.

A couple of times I’ve been asked to change something I felt would destroy the integrity of my story. Because I usually do anything an editor asks without question, they listen when I politely ask for a discussion.

Just like ignoring minor teasing, you must know when to pick your battles. If you argue over a word choice, for example, you may have no chips left when a truly important issue comes your way.

One last note: I thank every editor I’ve ever had, even the interpersonally challenged. Every one has worked hard, and every one has added much to my final outcome.

But I put the sweet ones in my liner notes. :-)

Focus

As I was starting my dissertation my committee chair asked what my topic was. Here’s the conversation:

I want to do it on trust.
Uh huh, that’s rather big. Narrow down.
How about trust in organizations?
Still too big.
How about executive trust?
Of what?
Trust of the company, trust of each other, trust of their employees.
Too big. Pick one.
Ok, of the company.
How will you test that?
(I roll out three research methods.)
Pick one.
(I choose comparing executive trust of the company to a well known trust theory.)
That theory has three parts. Pick one.
I wouldn’t.
He sighed and said all right, but you will have a mighty long dissertation.

Boy did I. The thing ended up being three hundred pages long. And of course, I had to defend each and every part of that theory comparison. I wished I had listened to my chair and picked one component.

The tendency to Go Big has carried with me into my fiction. I’ve come up with plot lines so big that only a huge book or a trilogy could fullfill them. I’ve written more than one sequel…without selling the first book.

I also tend to jump before really thinking about everything the book idea might entail. For example, I’ve dived into traditional romance before realizing I didn’t really want to write sex scenes. I’ve started books and gotten bored half way in.

Not to say that going big or jumping is all bad: I believe the ability to construct an over-arching plot for three or more books is a good thing. And even though my last book, Chimera, was a whole lot harder than I thought it would be, I love how it came out even though I didn’t consider the work involved.

I’m between books right now. So what am I doing? The first thing is to flood myself with input: books, movies, TV shows about new things, and interesting conversations. I receive flashes of insight from seeing other’s creativity, anything about nature, or listening to people’s thoughts and opinions. I jot any and all book ideas down so I don’t forget them.

The second thing I do is look again at what is selling. This changes constantly. I find editors and read up on what they want. I peruse Amazon. I talk to people about what they are reading.

The third thing I do is relax. Being without a book to work on is unsettling. In a way it reminds me of when I was between boyfriends. I felt free and full of possibilities, but also lonely and scared. But I knew if I embarked on a new relationship too soon I might not be ready.

As my husband often says to me, breath, chill. The book will come.

But I hope it hurries up.

My Baby

My husband and I attended a party last night; most there were younger than us, what we like to call Prime Baby Years. Three of the women were pregnant, the others had small toddlers running about. They were all very cute (the kids and the pregnant women), but for the most part that’s what the conversation revolved around. My brother calls this phenomenon see-the-baby-hold-the-baby-touch-the-baby-the-baby-the-baby-the-baby. :-)

My husband and I are happily child free, although we do very much enjoy inhabiting the aunt and uncle role, and I occasionally befriend an external child. We do like kids. And we understand that when you have them they are, especially at first, your entire life. They should be! Raising the next generation to become productive and loving humans is the most important job in the world.

But there are other pursuits, and other worthy endeavors. I’ve just finished a novel. The gestation, if you can stand the metaphor, was hard. There is still much work to do in rearing it to adulthood. And I’m as proud as proud can be, although I have no pictures of it.

I was bursting last night, hoping someone would ask me how I was. I admit it; I wanted to brag. But no…all conversation was about earthbound, or yet to be earthbound, children.

Unless you are an artist, or think of your work as creative, you don’t name what you produce as the children of your soul. Additionally, some people will believe your offspring isn't special. This is particularly true for a writer. Often people volunteer that “they always wanted to write a book”, or “they have a book in them if only they had the time.” (These same people often think they can sing. Try it. Ask them.)

By the end of the party I was OK. I don’t have to have people asking about my baby. It’s a secret love. And fortunately, a love I can share with my husband and sister, both of whom are writers.

Good enough for me.

Doin’ The Happy

The Happy is what my sister and I call being positive. She’s says I’m a natural at it.

I do think some people are born with a naturally sunny outlook. I may be one of those. And overall, it’s pretty cool. But like everything in life, a “good” trait always has a down side, just like a “bad” trait always has a good side.

If you are a positive person sometimes you are not allowed to have a bad day. As a writer, I have them. Sometimes, gasp, I have a pouty week after a particularly hard rejection. If I do complain which I rarely do, what I often get back is “oh you’ll make it. You always make it,” as if I never suffer.

Also, some people equate cheerfulness with a less than stellar intellect. As a writer, (and this is true for all arts), many people believe you must wallow in the depths of despair to produce Great Work, as if writing about happy things is less important, or that a positive person can’t write about sad things.

Finally, some folks just don’t like being around happy people. I think the saying misery loves company has more than a grain of truth. Happy can also be seen as fake, as in there’s no way anyone can be that happy.

Even with these downsides I’ll take my Pollyanna outlook. Being happy is, well, wonderful. I get up every day excited about what might happen. Usually. And after coffee. And I do think everything will work out for me.

I had a friend ask what I thought the components of being happy were, in other words, how does it work? How can anyone, even those born to be Eeyore, be more like Pooh?

Here’s what I think. Like many behavioral descriptors, “happy” does not function as an adjective, but as a verb; that’s why I call it doing the happy. It doesn’t just plunk into your lap.

So. Number one. You must consider carefully what does make you happy and do more of that, but just as importantly, jettison stuff that doesn’t. This sounds simple but in practice can be very difficult.

Which is why number two is the putting into practice part. As a writer, I can say writing makes me happy. OK, then I need to do that. But I ALSO must get rid of unwanted activities that may thwart my writing. What else? Getting published at major house would make me happy. We all know the answer to that is much marketing work and perseverance, which may make me happy in the long run, but sucks in the present.

Which brings me to number three: dividing time between the present and the future/past. I believe this is crucial for happiness, and a delicate balancing act. Many spiritual teachings say that only in the now can true happiness occur, and I agree that feeling the sun on your face, snuggling with your partner, or a enjoying a sport are in the moment activities that bring pure joy. But…if you never consider yesterday’s lessons or plan for the future, you will never enjoy accomplishments or feel the thrill of reaching a goal. Not to mention paying the bills, which will certainly impact the here and now.

Number three is the hardest. For those of you who have never heard Jill Taylor speak, the video below is worth your time; if you can’t spare twenty minutes then forward to the last five. She describes finding that magical space between the present, the past, and the future better than anyone I have ever heard.

I’ve never met Jill, but I know her father, Hal. They are both explorers of the mind. Enjoy. And may you all find your happy place, writer or no.

Cats

A reader asked to see more pictures of my cat, Spriggan. I hesitate to write too much about my pet; living with a cat is such a writer’s stereotype, and, do you really want me to go on and on about her?

But like any proud parent, since you asked…here she is. If it looks like she’s about ready to spring, well, three’s a reason her nickname is psycho kitty.

I also decided to post my three favorite feline poems. Just so it’s not all about Spriggan.

I love this poem because it’s so magical and peaceful.

Fog
By Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

The next poem I love because the language is like music. Say it out loud. See?

Pinkle Purr
By A. A. Milne

Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
A little black nothing of feet and fur;
And by and by, when his eyes came through,
He saw his mother, the big Tattoo.
And all that he learned he learned from her,
"I'll ask my mother," says Pinkle Purr.

Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
A ridiculous kitten with silky fur.
And little black Pinkle grew and grew
Till he got as big as the big Tattoo.
And all he did he did with her.
"Two friends together," says Pinkle Purr.

Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
An adventurous cat in a coat of fur.
And whenever he thought of a thing to do,
He didn't much bother about Tattoo.
For he knows it's nothing to do with her,
So "See you later," says Pinkle Purr.

Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
An enormous leopard with coal-black fur.
A little brown kitten that's nearly new
Is now playing games with its big Tattoo...
And Pink looks lazily down at her:
"Dear little Tat," says Pinkle Purr.

The last one I love because it captures the essence of cat behavior.

The Rum Tum Tugger
by T. S. Elliot

The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He's always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he's at home, then he'd like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can't get out.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any use for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn't any fish then he won't eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;
So you'll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.
The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn't care for a cuddle;
But he'll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there's nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any need for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!