Tying Up Loose Ends

Posted in fantasy, watcher of the skies by

I’m closing in on 90K with Watcher of the Skies, and I’ve been elbows deep in Pinterest and my board there. I thought I’d add it to the RSS images over there—> so you can see it. You can also visit here. My birthday present (and getting a real job present) this year was an iPad Mini, and it’s really done nothing for my Pinterest obsession.

But! I figure time “researching” is still time well spent. You will see lots of waves and fish and faces.

Just a little longer to go, and the book will be through draft zero.

Happily lost in the weeds: balance and the writer’s life

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Sweet William. CC BY SA 3.0. Natania Barron

Sweet William. CC BY SA 3.0. Natania Barron

At my last job, I once got stuck “in the weeds” during a meeting. At least, according to the Boss. You see, I was in a meeting with Dudes Higher Up. And they had Opinions. And their Opinions came into direct issue with my Experience. And I’m not someone to Shut Up and Say Nothing. In other words, getting stuck “in the weeds” meant that I didn’t back down. I asserted myself. The full context of the conversation was, “Next time that happens, don’t get stuck in the weeds.” So, in other words, back down next time. Don’t assert yourself.

This encapsulated the heart of my frustration at the previous place of work. Which is all over and done with and, thanks to the heavens, I’m at a place now where my opinion isn’t just listened to, but appreciated. People come to me with questions. They actually care what I have to say and want my advice. There are tons of bright, intelligent women all around me. Ditto with the dudes (but, no offense dudes, you’re not exactly hard to find in the business world–while there were some brilliant women before, there were so few women to begin with it was always overwhelming to be in such a minority).

Which is to say that I’m feeling very satisfied lately. My brain is in a good place. Writing’s been slow, but that’s to be expected. I had thought, at some point, that motherhood would be enough. It’s hard to admit that I didn’t feel fulfilled as a full-time mom. Even with my son’s ASD and my daughter clearly needing me around, it felt selfish to say: “This isn’t enough.” They were a different kind of weeds, I guess. I turned to my husband one night during the whole Great Work Debate of 2013, and said, “Y’know what’s the worst part? I just feel invisible.” And in some ways, it was the same kind of invisibility at the last job. I’m just the kind of person who does my job. I do it really well, to the very best of my ability. But if I’m just left to my own devices, I sort of shrivel. I’m by no means an astrology follower, but I’ve always been a bit of a stereotypical Gemini. I crave conversation and collaboration and thoughts and ideas.

Balance isn’t easy. And there are some days that I don’t feel I get any. I crashed and burned a little this week, having ended up with pink eye and a sinus infection on top of all my allergies. But I’ll recover. The thing is, up there in my head, things make sense. Natania is a person who is appreciated and listened to, who’s a part of a great team at home, at work, and during extracurriculars (because who would I be if I didn’t have a half dozen projects going at once?). Natania can flourish as a writer when she feels appreciated and listened to in the real world. Her happy little fantasy worlds (which aren’t exactly happy, let’s face it) can grown and flourish when all of Natania is happy.

And apparently I slide into the third person in some cases.

Ahem.

Anyway. Once upon a time in a far away land, I imagined that I would raise children and be blissfully happy, writing every evening and conventioning. But the truth of the matter that, well, that still costs money. And full-time mommying is hard work, man. Like I said, I wish that it was completely satisfying for me. I wish that said dream could just materialize. But oddly enough, I like having a 401K plan. I like dorking out with my coworkers about social media.

Do I have more time than I had before to write? Well, no. But I have a little more brain space. Sure, there’s been a transition period. But for the first time in a very long time I’m working a flexible job that actually allows me to go home well ahead of dinner. I get time with my kids, I can fiddle in my garden. Then once the kids are asleep I can write. (Or, uh, watch Doctor Who or Doctor Who, which is totally, ahem, the same thing.)

My rambling point? It’s okay to embrace the weeds. It’s okay to admit you can’t do stuff. It’s okay to admit you feel fulfilled even if you aren’t writing 100% of the time. Full-time writer status is something so few people find. And someday, sure, I’d like to be there. But I have a feeling I’ll be in retirement by then and hopefully writing isn’t write-to-live, but write-to-love.

O For a Life of Sensations

Posted in blog, fantasy, fiction, watcher of the skies, WIP, writing by
My new writing chair, in my new cleaned up room. Happy writer is happy.

My new writing chair, in my new cleaned up room. Happy writer is happy.

Indeed, I’ve been busy. I started the new job a month ago, and it’s been honestly quite awesome. There hasn’t been much in the way of writing, but I’m okay with that. I’ve found that it’s best to be realistic about these things. I had a brief moment of insanity where I thought that it might be a good idea to try and finish Watcher of the Skies in time for my daughter’s first birthday (marking two books since she was born) and then I laughed a while and poured myself another glass of wine.

I had a visit from my best friend, Karen, all the way from Arizona. And she, as usual, triggered all sorts of writerly thoughts. Karen and I met years ago on Elendor, and though we never actually managed to RP together, we struck up a deep and amazing friendship bolstered by our love of writing and shiny things and the Beatles and thrifting (among others). We get each other, and her Baggins to my Took works marvelously in the grand scheme of things (though I believe we were both Burrowses when we met). We spent last weekend together and ate good food and drank good wine, and laughed and cried and plotted. We antiqued and sat in the rain and inspired one another in a myriad different ways. It’s hard to believe that it’s been ten years of friendship, through its own trials and tribulations. But to have a friend like that… it’s a magical thing. In some ways, we’re so different. But in the ways that matter, well… it’s like we don’t even need words sometimes.

This is all to say that the last month has got me thinking a great deal about writing and living. Am I a little sad that I haven’t finished my draft? Sort of. So much of my early writing career was focused so much on the writing, on the physical getting brain to paper, that it became easy to forget that I had another point to life. Sure, I cranked out lots of novels. But there’s also that other part: you know, living. I’m totally on board with the whole sacrificing stuff to write. It’s worth it. But to a point. There’s a life to live, flowers to plant, songs to sing. Forgetting to do that means that you lose out on the most important tool in any writer’s toolbox: experience.

Which once again makes me think of Keats and his life of sensations. Which makes me think that I ought to spend some time writing today.

Current Meditation: Keats to Benjamin Bailey, 22nd November, 1817

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Keats often puts it better than I can even begin. Some of my favorite bits:

I am certain of nothing but of the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same idea of all our passions as of love: they are all, in their sublime, creative of essential beauty.

 

And:

O for a life of sensation rather than of thoughts! It is a ‘Vision in the form of Youth,’ a shadow of reality to come. And this consideration has further convinced me, – for it has come as auxiliary to another favorite speculation of mine, – that we shall enjoy ourselves hereafter by having what we called happiness on earth repeated in a finer tone and so repeated. And yet such a fate can only befall those who delight in sensation, rather than hunger as you do after truth. Adam’s dream will do here, and seems to be a conviction that imagination and its empyreal reflection is the same as human life and its spiritual repetition. But, as I was saying, the simple imaginative mind may have its rewards in the repetition of its own silent working coming continually on the spirit with a fine suddenness – to compare great things with small – have you never by being Surprised with an old Melody – in a delicious place – by a delicious voice, felt over again your very Speculations and Surmises at the time it first operated on your Soul – do you not remember forming to yourself the singer’s face more beautiful than it was possible and yet with the elevation of the Moment you did not think so – even then you were mounted on the Wings of Imagination so high – that the Protrotype must be here after – that delicius face you will see.