Happy!

I am just remembering what it's like to be... really happy.

I feel really happy these days.  I feel positive, I feel healthy, I feel happy, I feel hopeful.

Now to harness that into some 'I feel productive'!

Slowly, slowly...

Sometimes I go through these wretched periods of invalidity---in the sense of being made an invalid, and then having to go through the slow process of regaining health afterward. I wish I knew what caused these episodes, or how to prevent them, but instead I have to bravely keep putting on foot in front of the other, breathing deeply, moving on.

I have been slow these last few weeks. I have been sad and angry and happy and loving and depressed. Not so different from anyone else, I think. But I have also felt as though I am constantly three weeks behind where I want to be, need to be, should be, and the running after myself, the waking up feeling as though it's already time to go back to bed in preparation for another day... that's draining, physically and emotionally.

When I say, "I know other people have worse problems than I do; I don't understand why I can't be happier, healthier; I don't understand why I get so upset," my mother always tells me that no one can really understand anyone else's life; their feelings, their hurts, even their happinesses.

So I am recovering on my own time, at my own pace, and no one is more frustrated about the slowness of the process than I am, but I am also trying to practice kindness toward myself, and love, and forgiveness. One day at a time.

Writing and the Day Job

You know, here's the thing: writers (or aspiring writers) always talk about how if they only had more time they'd write. If they didn't have to get up and go to the office, they'd write. If they didn't have to take the kids to school, make dinner, go grocery shopping, watch American Idol, they'd write.

What with my precarious visa situation here in the States (I'm allowed to be here, but I'm not allowed to work), I have nothing but time. In some ways it's been productive, I'm not going to lie. I've written the first draft of a second novel, starting shopping novel number one, am halfway through a first draft for novel number three, and have managed to maintain a quarterly schedule for my online magazine. This, all told, is probably more actual writing than I managed in the two or three years before I moved to New York.

Waitressing is not a good job for people who want to do other things, even though the stereotype is out there: struggling actors, writers, artists, singers, dancers... they all usually do a stint wearing an apron and serving food. Maybe it works for some of them. For me, it ended up draining whatever energy I had. If I had to work in the evening, I spent all day fretting about it and wishing I didn't have to go. If I worked earlier in the day, by the time I got home I was exhausted and curling up to read a book seemed much more enticing than sitting down to write one.

However, I am beginning to see why other responsibilities are good for the procrastinating writer. I, for example, do odd job work for a PR firm in Vancouver (see, I am not working in the STATES, even though I live here! Telecommute!!!) and it never fails... my boss sends me work and BAM all of a sudden writing is so appealing. Nothing cures writer's block like having to do some 'real' work.

It's good work if you can get it. But now I have procrastinated long enough, and have to cram some PR work into my day so I can get back to the characters clamoring in my head. They are so needy when they think they might be ignored!

*Blank*

Honestly, what to say?

Went back to Canada, visited family, my sister's wedding. A week later my niece was diagnosed with a massive brain tumor. Surgery, recovery, surgery and chemo starts next week. No writing in almost two months, lost my zip drive with the current novel on it, need to get more query letters out. Lost 1/3 of husband's funding due to a lack in the $$ pool, so are now destitute in the city.

Very tired, stressed, but also thankful and happy. Had first year wedding anniversary. Need more sleep. Have a new place to live at the end of the month.

Please leave a message after the tone.

Jinx

I don't want to jinx it, because I'm enjoying the process so much so far, but I'm really liking the way the new book is coming along. The characters are already speaking to me, clamoring for attention, trying to get to me with their stories. If only I could write faster. If only I had slept better last night.

No complaints, though. I am enjoying getting to know a new bunch of people and hell, even a bit of a new world. More needs to be done with that.

I am happy.

Happy is great.

Looking forward to hearing back about my queries. Right.... now. Now? How about now? Soon.

Rumors of my Demise have been Greatly Exaggerated

Wow. I haven't written here in over a month. And what a month it's been.

I have decided to stop letting life happen to me. I am taking control. I am watching what I eat and what I drink and how much I sit around. I am sending out query letters. I am writing. I am inspired. And almost as soon as I start making one change, so many other changes follow in the same direction. It's amazing. And it's something I should know about myself by now.

I am a bit of a control freak (in my head, I hear my husband laughing, saying 'a bit?!') and when I start to let things slip out of control, I have a tendency to give up entirely. Can't write? Well, better eat whatever the hell I want and drink whatever the hell I want. Eating too much? Well, may as well sit around watching TV on DVD all day, right? It's depressing. But it's nothing new. Because I have always, always been this way. And it's not depressing, because it can all be turned around, just as swiftly.

I sent my first query letter. The next couple of weeks I spent a lot of time soul-searching, thinking about myself. And I realized there were a lot of things holding me down, holding me back. Some of them can't be changed, and I know it. But others can. It is easy to drink more water in a day. It is easy to choose carrots over chocolate, at least six days a week. I mean, it's not even a struggle---I love carrots. It is even easy to sit down at my computer and really write for a page or two or five. Easy AND fun. When I am sad, everything becomes a tragedy. What a pathetic way to live. I am not a victim, and I don't want to live as though I'm one.

I am happier in these last few days than I have been for weeks. I feel cleaner. I feel inspired.

Rewriting

I am going to do something I have never done before.

I am going to rewrite a book from scratch.

Okay, 'scratch' may be a little harsh... but I am going to open a Word document, completely blank, and I am going to start retelling the story that managed to get so mangled the first time out of the gate. I imagine I will be able to keep great big chunks of the original manuscript, but I've realized -- while bashing my head against a wall over and over -- this story doesn't work the way I've told it. The problems are too big, too all-encompassing. It needs a rehaul. And a rehaul means starting from the beginning, and not being too fixated on working with everything the way it stands right now. Because right now isn't working. Right now may have salvageable parts (I hope to God it does!) but... but.

I have heard of writers for whom this write-scrap-rewrite business is de rigeur. I just never thought I'd be one of them.