Writing Snippet - Over There

This morning's post is over at my oft-forgotten blog Tabula Rasa.  I posted the new beginning of Djinnocide.  Be gentle.

And if you don't feel like heading over there, scroll down and comment on yesterday's post about my need for coffee.  (The Tabula Rasa post is more intelligent, though, trust me.)

Great Godfrey Daniels, is it Wednesday already?  Where the hell did Tuesday go?  I guess spending the morning cleaning clogged drains will make a person forget a whole day.  Derpy derpy derp.

Must have too much blood in my caffeine system...

So, anyway, how are things with you?

(And no, I don't remember where I got the above image.  My apologies to the brilliant human being who made it.  It was just so apropos, I had to kipe it.  If they happen to stumble across my shameless theft, they can let me know and I'll either take it down or give them full credit.)

Picture Pause - Gather Ye Roses

Between the unseasonal heat and the dryness, most of the roses in the area are done blooming.  I snapped this during the last good week for flowers and even this is on its way out.

So, I guess that they say is true: Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.  ;o)

Adjusting Your Expectations And Giving Up

I never expected to be here.  When I was 18, I expected to graduate from college and become a psychologist.  A couple years and a major change later, I expected to get a good job at someplace like Boeing in their human resources department.  When I was 22, I expected my fiance to marry me and we'd raise the baby that was on the way together.  The next year I woke up one morning expecting to make it to work safely.  I expected to live in Michigan my whole life.  And at 34, I expected my first book would attract somebody's interest.  I definitely expected to be published by now.

Needless to say, I've had a lot of expectations in my life.  Also needless to say, none of the above actually happened.  In each instance, something derailed me and I had to adjust my expectations.  In a lot of instances, I could've given up.  (And in the case of college, I actually did give up - but I didn't realize it until later.)  Instead I adjusted my expectations.

Recently, we had a setback.  The daughter I raised, the one who's so damn smart I could weep for joy, the one who aced her ACT...  She bombed her first year of college.  After much gnashing of teeth and rending of garments, we made the decision she won't be going back*. 

And we all adjusted our expectations.  She expected to graduate, move to Japan and get a job managing a software development company.  Now she has to expect a lower paying job, not so nice a car, and a lot of hard work to get anywhere.  Sure, she's bummed, but by adjusting her expectations, she can roll with this.  She can put her head down, work hard, save some money and gain the maturity she needs to go back to college.

At least, that's the adjusted expectation.  She hasn't given up on her goal of graduating from college.  Whether she ever does isn't the point right now.  The point is that she still has goals and expectations she's working toward.

I guess what I'm trying to say in my rambling, disjointed way is that things don't always work out the way you intend them to.  Shit happens.  You get derailed.  And then you have a choice - you can adapt or you can quit.

This morning, I thought about quitting.  I was standing on the porch smoking and the thought jumped into my head - totally unbidden and without any warning - that I should just quit writing.  I haven't really gone anywhere with it.  More and more often, I find something else to do rather than the work I know I should be putting in. 

Maybe I need to adjust my own expectations and see what happens.  Or perhaps I've just stopped having expectations about my work.  Instead of expecting to finish this and send it out, I'm just floating through.  I'll give setting up some expectations a try and see what happens.  I expect things will improve.

And don't worry.  I'm still not planning on quitting - no matter what messages my subconscious throws up at me while I'm enjoying a nice morning and a bit of nicotine. 

*She wanted to go back this fall.  We just couldn't see throwing another $10K at the problem on the off chance that she grows a work ethic between now and August.

May Fights of Eagles Wing Thee

One of my heroes died today.  Ray Bradbury is gone at the age of 91.

And for those of left behind, I'll post some profound words he graced us with:

"The point is obvious. There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches. Every minority, be it Baptist/Unitarian, Irish/Italian/Octogenarian/Zen Buddhist, Zionist/Seventhday Adventist, Women's Lib/Republican, Mattachine/Four Square Gospel feels it has the will, the right, the duty to douse the kerosene, light the fuse. Every dimwit editor who sees himself as the source of all dreary blanc-mange plain porridge unleavened literature, licks his guillotine and eyes the neck of any author who dares to speak above a whisper or write above a nursery rhyme." - Ray Bradbury 1920-2012

I write because you gave me courage.  And I write because your vision of a world where people burned books scared the shit out of teenage me and your vision of a world where people wouldn't care if intellect was silenced scares me still today.

Goodbye, Mr. Bradbury.  May flights of eagles wing thee to thy rest.

You May Be Alone, but You Are Not Alone

"Writing is a solitary pursuit."  I heard someone on TV say this yesterday and I was all like 'well, duh'.  But thinking about it this morning, I realized something.  This may be a solitary pursuit and one no other person can really help us with (unless, you know, you're like working on a collaborative manuscript), we're in this together.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm all about the individual - doing his thing, being his own person.  What I mean is more along the lines of we have a shared experience.  Each of us is working toward a personal goal, and along the way, we face the same pitfalls, the same elation, the same deep dark depression and endless misery.  So, it just makes sense that we help each other however we can - even if it's just putting a hand on a friend's shoulder so they know they aren't alone.

Our paths are different, but we're all walking in the same direction.  Toward publication.  (Even those who are already published are still walking.  Just because one book is sold doesn't mean the journey ends.)

So if you see someone faltering, reach out a hand and help them back up.  If you see someone making progress, cheer - because the cheering inspires and heartens.  And if you feel like you can't take another step, call out so others can maybe help.

Writing may be a solitary pursuit, but you don't have to go through it alone.

Afraid to Finish Reading

Okay, so I'm about 2/3rds of the way through Blackout by Mira Grant.  I have a total writer crush on her (aka Seanan McGuire) and I so totally love the books she writes.  So far I'm loving this book, too, but I can see where it could all go so amazingly wrong for the characters.

And thinking about this last night makes me want to do something I've never done before.  I want to write Seanan and ask her to let me know if there's an HEA.  Or at least a 'happy for now'.  I don't want her to tell me how it ends.  In fact, I hate spoilers.  I just need a 'yes' or 'no', so I can either continue reading or set the book down now and create a happy ending in my head rather than a horrible end she might have planned.  This is the last book in the trilogy and I really don't think I could bear it if this story goes bad for the characters I've come to love so much.  :cough:HungerGames:cough:

Has this ever happened to you?

ETA:  Thank you, Seanan.  I never should've doubted you would end this right.  And damn you for making me cry - even if they were good tears.  =op