Yet another multi-year hiatus…

Hah! I’ve had two more babies since my last post and forgot this blog was still up in the wild. We moved to a new state (well, new to the rest of the tribe) and the vast majority of things have gotten better with time, maturity, and living Somewhere Else. The Covid panic was just totally bonkers and I am glad to be living Somewhere Else now. It would have been smart to have been writing during that time but alas I was a wee bit tied up caring for my children who really, really needed 150% of me. They are a few years older now and the child who needed therapy was able to receive it by moving Somewhere Else since the lockdowns prevented all those children statewide from receiving help. He has blossomed into a fine young man right alongside his equally wonderful siblings. Life is good.

Struggling

Becoming a more regular and intentional writer is hard. I’m super busy with being a mom and a wife and I tell myself I am soaking up experiences in this season, but the urge is still there. I don’t need to be famous, but I do want to write something meaningful.

I am a little frustrated because although I love being a mother, my other areas of expertise don’t get exercised or appreciated often. That is partly my own fault, partly the season I am in, and partly due to a multitude of factors that eat up my time and energy that are outside of motherhood and outside of my control. It doesn’t accomplish much to blame things outside my sphere of influence, even though that’s the easy thing to do.

And so I am left with waiting out my season and taking the time and effort to make time. It’s counterintuitive (and annoying), but in order to save time going forward, you need to stop and evaluate. What am I spending all my time doing? Why do I feel like I am spinning my wheels? Am I actually cleaning or am I just feeling guilty about how I can’t keep up and trying to escape those feelings by procrastinating or wasting time?

The first one I addressed by reducing the number of maintenance items, à la the trendy new movement, “minimalism.” (But seriously, do it – less stuff DOES eventually morph into more time where you have nothing to do except pursue your goals!) I can do a whole series of posts just on this journey, which is still very much in progress. If your chores take up all your time and more, you need to reconsider what is really necessary so they are shorter, easier, or fewer in number. You are not lazy; you are smart. I know, it took me 6 years to figure this out, hush.

Guilt/procrastination/escapism is harder because it’s an internal struggle and I am my own worst enemy if I choose to be. For example, I like to play games to avoid doing other boring things. This comes in handy when I am trying to lose weight or am snacking too much – I find a game to play instead of eating and try to do exercises between tasks in the game. But of course I would be more productive if I weren’t trying to play a silly game! Funny enough, the game I have been playing lately has been buggy, so I have been forced to do things because I can’t escape into the game. I am at my target level of fitness anyways, so I don’t need the game anymore to keep me from snacking (I also ate ALL THE SNACKS – this strategy only works if you don’t buy more snacks).

I started this post a week ago…my baby has been sick and fussy and I’m sitting in my glider right now, rocking him to sleep with one arm around him while also holding the iPad and typing with the other. Thank you auto-correct for guessing what I was trying to type! So…I’ll just drop this post here and get cracking on my next ramble. I was blessed with a science/tech writing gig this morning that will eat up my next few weeks, but hey, it’s something. I enjoy tech writing – it’s fun, it’s useful, and not too hard but still stimulating (and it pays by the hour, haha). I will elaborate more on my thoughts about tech writing soon.

Age and Authorship

I’m not terribly old. I’m old enough not to be hip, not that I ever was, but not old enough for the AARP. I’m sure I’ll have even more to say on this topic every decade or so. But at any rate, growing older, or perhaps more precisely, moving through a stereotypical course of life stages, has an interesting and profound effect on all aspects of one’s writing life.

For me personally, I would divide my work into several chronological periods. First would be childhood, and for obvious reasons most of that writing was not terribly high quality but nevertheless contained the germ from which later writing may spring.

In my adolescence there were a few noteworthy pieces, and my voice as an author began to take shape. My writing was full of grand aspirations but remained largely incomplete.

My college years, while in some ways a continuation of the adolescent phase, was definitely a steady improvement in the “show don’t tell” arena, particularly in the use of dialog. Though, to be honest, I think “show don’t tell” dialog is a little too hard to digest for many readers, particularly in today’s reading world where the media frenzy caters to short, shallow attention spans and skimming rather than sitting with a story and absorbing the situation and all that was not said. Dear Reader, that is okay, I will just become a better Writer.

I was active on this blog immediately after college while I was wrestling with job changes, dating and the hazards therein, chronic pain, etc. I found my funny bone during this time and have continued to refine it. I think becoming a mom has made me funnier because moms are perpetually embarrassed and humor is the only way to save the last shreds of Sanity.

I didn’t write much after getting married and having kids – a few pieces here and there but when you have children you are Very Busy while also Getting Nothing Done. You are also forced to be Responsible and discover just how very immature you really are when confronted with a savage toddler roommate. I would say that my perspective on a great many things has shifted the most since having children of my own.

For example, as a young person, you think that the epitome of romance is a true love’s first kiss, or at least that’s what Disney tells us. When you’re married with three kids and you haven’t showered in two weeks (when you have a baby you will understand how this Happens), romance is no longer holding hands over dinner at a nice restaurant, it’s “go take a nap” or “look I did that thing you asked for 6 months ago!” or “the kids are asleep!” I’m being a little facetious, but in the parenting season it is necessary to expand the definition of romance – the little things are far more significant and meaningful than the grand gestures one sees in romantic comedies and trashy novels.

I am also exposed to, on a daily basis, the gamut of human behavior and motivation. I see the innocence of babies, the insanity of toddlers, the first attempts at deceit, and most importantly how my conduct as a Parent truly does influence how poorly (or, occasionally, well) our days go. Sometimes it seems as if I am running a psychological experiment, muttering “well that didn’t work!” And of course, I do encounter adults quite often, though to be honest I’ve had my fill of adult “behavior” for a lifetime during my short stint in cubicle-land. I am strangely addicted to the news, perhaps because it is hard to believe there are really that many human beings who would Really Do That. At least kids have the excuse of being clueless. My husband is a fairly reasonable person, however, and I try to be reasonable in return, and this provides a good contrast for the more peculiar behavior that turns up in novels.

I would honestly be a bit embarrassed if anything I had written in my younger years had been published – my idea of romance was so cliché and the motivations of the characters were a bit muddled because my understanding of human nature was quite limited at the time. And when you are a teenager, and your life is on a railroad track set by your parents (because they love you), it IS hard to write about agency when you aren’t in that stage of life yet! (This is not to be construed as advice to do something dumb.) Now, as a parent, I am constantly investigating my kids’ “agency.” “Why did you bite him?!” “Why are you pinching her?!” “Why is the baby crying?”

In short, while I wish I were a published author now, I am somewhat glad that I am not, for I have been forever and wonderfully changed by married life and motherhood in ways that will continue to shape my writing for years to come.

Procrastination by Preparation

I’m back! My folks were in town so I was a wee bit busy. My father is very ill – we probably have years left before the end, but perhaps not as many as we would like. Such are my most excellent excuses!

Yesterday I upgraded my iPad’s OS (thank you, parents) and joined the global chorus of guilty groans upon seeing my time spent on social media (AKA Facebook) accrued to the tune of hours! Hours I could spend doing other more useful, impactful things, like laundry and dishes and yard work. Oh, and writing, too.

Chagrined, I set out on a quest to rectify this poor use of my time, much of which is admittedly spent lying in bed nursing my infant. Yes, I am doing that right now. Sorry.

The top Google results review and recommend some great looking-apps that cost a pretty penny, such as Scrivener and Ulysses. The fancy apps can help you organize and format your work for easier e-publishing to Kindle and the like. But I’m a budding, mostly unpublished author, so these would probably be too much sword for the moment.

So, I visited the App Store and searched for free apps to help me work on my various writing projects. I came up empty-handed – nearly everything requires a subscription and many reviews complained of work being lost in the magical cloud. Losing hours or years of work is the stuff of nightmares for writers. I’m not going to pay for someone else to ruin my life’s work!

I’ve used Google Docs in the past with no problems, so I think I will set that up again. I also downloaded a bunch of other Google Apps that I’ve not used before because they hadn’t been written yet when I worked there! I look forward to trying out what my former colleagues have made in the interim. Google Keep looks like an interesting tool, and I’ve already mentioned Google Docs (and Google Drive to manage it all). I also downloaded the Google Arts and Culture App – it looked fun and I am homeschooling my eldest – I won’t be using the face scanner though!

Outside the Google-verse, I’m also going to try out Microsoft OneNote – it’s probably similar to Google Keep. And of course, Apple Pages comes with my iPad, so I might try that out as well, although I am a bit baffled as to how to manage iCloud – the PC side of iCloud is buggy and won’t let me clean it out, which will definitely hamper my ability to use Pages. I should also take advantage of the other iLife suite apps on the iPad – maybe you will hear my voice or see a video from me in the future!

As for hardware, I have been pining for an external iPad keyboard, though to be honest since I spend so much time lying down feeding my baby I probably wouldn’t be able to use it enough to justify purchasing it. I have used the Swift keyboard (it lets you swipe to type) in the past and I liked it, but it was a bit buggy and I gave up on it. I may try it again to see if it has improved in the past few years.

Feel free to comment with your own technological (or stone age) solutions to prepare yourself to buckle down and write! I haven’t actually written anything other than this blog post with my new setup yet – I have been procrastinating by preparing to write, which is probably a subconscious effort by my internal saboteur to avoid actually doing it.

A Word on Dystopian Novels

As I was washing dishes this afternoon (and thinking about my novel, and my husband’s novel), I happened upon an interesting realization. Like many modern novels, we describe our stories as “dystopian,” whether they take place in the far future or the present day. Can you write a utopian novel? I daresay the answer is in fact a resounding “No!” At first you might object, and yes, you could write a truly utopian novel, but no one will want to read it.  Even the eponymous work by Sir Thomas More is actually dystopian as it contains significant elements of satire which are particularly obvious when the opinions and beliefs of the author, a Catholic martyr, are taken into account. A novel cannot truly come into its own without conflict, and a utopia, by nature, is supposed to be a perfect place, without conflict or misfortune. Imagine writing the following lines:

Jane lived in a perfect society. It was always a balmy 70 degrees with a slight breeze. The trains ran on time, and she had everything she ever wanted.

I can almost guarantee you your reader will be asleep before the end of the first page unless something HAPPENS. To make a real story that someone wants to read, you have to introduce a conflict. But pretty much any conflict will either defeat your attempt to write about a perfect society that really is perfect, or will be so insignificant as to bore your reader to tears.

In short, the phrase “dystopian novel” is redundant in its literal meaning, but it does conjure up a specific genre where government or social dysfunction play a very prominent role in the plot, in contrast to stories where the lion’s share of the conflict stems from the characters themselves and involves almost no larger sphere of influence. This other category, however, would not be utopian, either.

Actually, I changed my mind. If fan fiction can be considered a genre, some of those stories are utopia for someone out there!

The Shopping List of a Stranger

I found a lost shopping list in the bottom of a cart at Lucky Supermarket. While I would ordinarily ignore it like a normal person, my grandmother called my attention to it, so my natural inclination is, of course, to read it. While the shopping list itself was nothing extraordinary or strange, such as garbage bags, rubber gloves, mop, knife, and 409, it still told an interesting story about the writer of said shopping list. The addition of the knife really set my imagination on fire. I have three little kids now, so needing to clean up after my messy monsters is pretty normal, but buying a knife on a shopping trip for cleaning supplies is pretty weird. I haven’t needed to buy knives because they aren’t something that wears out for decades. Is the shopping list writer a murderer? Or maybe she was making lechon (Filipino roast pig). Or maybe she owns a restaurant, or decided to deep-fry a turkey this year. Who knows.

I found this list 7 years ago and I’m a total freak and still haven’t lost it yet despite having lost many of my own shopping lists (some of which were eaten by babies). I had intended to write a more profound post but I am sleepy. However, I wanted to post something so you, dear reader, could know that I felt guilty for neglecting my blogging commitment for at least 5 minutes before falling asleep.

I will have you know I had a productive week! I decluttered my house and dropped it all off at the thrift store in the vain hope that less stuff will somehow transmute into more time. Or in the very least I can savor feeling like an idiot when I realize I have so many duplicate (two pink & purple snow bibs in coastal California) or useless possessions (like the aforementioned shopping list, non-fitting clothes, a Quesadilla maker!?). This post makes me want to write an anthology of shopping list poetry. You’re welcome.

A Mid-Year Resolution, Bikes, and Jousting

You know how you make a New Years resolution and it always seems to slip away from you? I propose a new tradition – the Mid-Year Resolution. Yes, I know it’s August, which is way past the middle of the year, but “Make a Two-Thirds-Year Resolution” really doesn’t roll off the tongue. Make a goal today and give it a go. Then try again after Christmas.

I plan on posting a mix of real-life updates and perhaps some completed fiction, hopefully once a week or more. I am hoping the real-life updates will inspire other writers and artists who find themselves frequently derailed. I think pursuing a craft can be like riding a bike. Or maybe it’s more like jousting. Maybe it’s learning to ride a bike WHILE JOUSTING. Yes, I think that’s it. Sometimes you get knocked down by people, events, inexperience, or a lightning bolt from the sky, but you can either lie there and be counted out, or you can get up and try again. Have you seen some of the things that get published these days? If you can read this, you can probably write something better than “Dirk the Dozer builds a foundation where the building will be built” (actual text from a children’s book I gave away but should have set on fire because our furnace is ancient and terrible).

TLDR – set a goal right now – don’t wait for New Years or bikini season or NaNoWriMo. Goals are hard, you will fail, get up and keep going.

Inspiration postponed

I had a “totes” inspiring post all lined up, then my kids (5 and 2) got into the locked fireplace because someone left the key out and they threw ashes ALL OVER THE FIRST FLOOR! You would think my 5 year old would know better, but apparently being covered from head to toe in ash is not admissible evidence regarding whether she might have helped the 2 year old turn my house into a moonscape.

TLDR; Inspiring post has been postponed until tomorrow because kids.

Three kids later…

Three kids later…I finally get back to my blog. The past two years have been a whirlwind, but I’ve been slowly emptying my house of all the things that suck up my time unproductively and trying to hit my stride in this parenting gig. There’s still more clutter to kick to the curb, but I have finally gotten rid of enough junk that I can write for a few minutes because the house is briefly in some semblance of order and the kids actually go less berserk with less stuff rather than more. Writing is hard when screaming is your soundtrack!

I’m working on a short story at the moment and also a longer novel, plus a mountain of abandoned projects. My poor hubby is working so hard these days – my secret hope is to be able to supplement his income with my writing someday so he can retire whenever he is ready. Should I have been actively working toward this goal all along? Yes, but life. I have three lovely wild children and we have been overextending ourselves trying to care for elder family members on weekends, which left us zero time to take care of our own affairs.

Now that other family members are able to step up, we have some breathing room, and I have so much extra time and energy that used to be wasted on packing and unpacking; cleaning up after my kids in other homes; hovering over my kids (one family member has a pool and another has a pond); trying not to offend others and failing; parenting hyper, stressed-out kids confused by weekend overnight stays in other houses; and driving (reading in the car gives me nausea). I love all my family, but goodness, I was burning out so hard I don’t think I even realized my candle had completely evaporated. This morning, after a couple months of cutting back, I was able to sit down and read a stack of books to my kids without nearly fainting from the effort of speaking. Parenting achievement unlocked!

For those TLDR types – sometimes there isn’t time to do what you want, and sometimes there is but you have to claim it before something else does. Carpe Diem! It’s only too late if you are already dead.

Dessert

My favorite waitress always offers me the dessert menu and I always politely decline. Dessert is my favorite meal. There’s something oddly perfect about stepping out into the night from that restaurant you love with a sweet taste in your mouth. But it is an elusive high, because my cheapskate upbringing has ingrained in me that one does not simply order dessert.Now that I’m a frequent flyer on the dating scene, however, I am told that it’s supposed to be romantic to split a dessert (and less fattening). But with the permission to order dessert for two comes the fear of looking like a fatso.

What if I accidentally eat one atom more than half of that fudgey raspberry espresso brownie with caramel drizzled over in it in perfect zigzags? Will he see my pleasure or portents of my porkiness? 

What is a girl to do when her date gives her that knowing look and the waitress is standing right there with the forbidden menu? Do I accept the dessert menu, flip through it listlessly, and hand it back? Do I say yes, I would love dessert and risk hearing my date groan at the thought of spending another few dollars? 

I stammer and glance furtively at my date. I ask the waitress to recite the dessert menu, a compromise between self denial and actually committing to dessert and an afternoon on the treadmill.

The waitress is probably thinking, look, if you don’t want dessert just say so and I’ll go make my rounds. Besides, your date looks like a cheap tipper and I’m not paid to stand here all day.

A voice breaks my merry-go-round of what-ifs, “That sounds good, what do you think?”

“Yes, I would like dessert,” I reply breathlessly. 

Then I realize that the voice belonged to the man at the next table. He had just ordered steak à poivre, medium rare. I am a deer in headlights, a ship on the rocks. 

The waitress slaps down the dessert menu. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to check on you,” she says with the sweetness of stevia.

My date just smiles and pats my hand. “How about a banana split?”