Blibber Blabber

No rhyme, no reason

 

Yet again, I've been thinking about starting up another book.  Why do I put myself through this hell?  Actually, I'm not, because I'm not letting myself think about it for more than a few fleeting moments at a time (easy when you have a million other things to think about), but I had a little flash of inspiration yesterday (while I was driving, I think-- those are pretty memorable.  Ever see a woman in a plum PT Cruiser with her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide?  That's me, getting Hit By Inspiration).

My problem with this particular story (that I've started five times so far) has been backstory.  I absolutely felt it needed it.  Why was this woman dead set on finding and killing a man who brutally attacked her twenty years earlier?  Who was her brother, "The Walker"?  How exactly was the Burnie reservation agent different from the others in the Republic?  Every time I started a new novel, I'd spend countless hours, days setting everything up; making sure all those details were in there, and yet when I was done, the ideas, the action, would fizzle out.  And I'd be left with eighty, ninety, one hundred pages-- too much lost time.

Yesterday, the inspiration was: fuck the backstory.

I know that my most successful short stories have begun in the midst of the action.  Whatever back details that needed to be included were included later in the story.  I know from my own experiences as an editor, and from an editor who's published me twice, that you need to be grabbed by the neck and throttled right away, or the story's most likely going to be rejected.  And by action, I don't mean bingbangBOOM!, but "It was a dark and stormy night" sure as hell hasn't cut it for years.  And neither was what I was writing.

It wasn't flat and rambling, mind you.  Two of the drafts started out in a reservation agent's office, with two agents and a Burnie with ESP-- a crazy woman who took to pulling down her top from time to time.  She was entertaining to read and write, but then it lapsed into the agent's life, and his last day on the reservation.  Other drafts began with the woman seeking revenge, who didn't know it yet, and her sad, despondent life.  It made me sad, despondent... and didn't make for good reading.

Lately, I've been wanting to include a Housewife Hubby.  Housewife Hubbies stay at home, dress in shimmery gauze, and are a little on the stereotypical gay side.  They are the male equivalent of TV housewives of the '50s.  They take care of things that a progressive woman of the Republic has no time or desire for.  I figure he'd be a hoot to write, since I'd make him flamboyant, a bit over-the-top.

I've also wanted to work a Canary into my book.  Though I don't think anyone who reads this blog knows of Canaries, one was prominently featured in my story, "Follow the Canary".  They are children with no faces, with mouths in their stomachs, and they are used to find things.  In essence, they're slaves that blindly follow their masters' wishes.

The last thing is the decision not to write most of the book from the woman's point of view.  I think the story would be better served by not knowing right away what her intentions are.  She'd have to be a mystery.

Every time I've stepped into this world I've created and gotten something published, it's been met with success.  People really like it.  So, it's a no-brainer to return to it, though not for possible success: I really enjoy it, too.  I really want to finish a book about it.

So, fuck the backstory.  I know now how I want it to start-- with a small bingbangBOOM!  Luckily, a novel allows you to wait a little on the things that make a person tick, that shaped their lives, and after the bbB!, I'll have time for that.

I just hope it doesn't slow me down again.

***

Last night, as I was driving home from dropping YD's friend off, a black cat skittered across the road (I didn't hit it).  I started half-laughing, saying, "Oh, that's all I need!  That's just perfect!"  I realize that my black cat Salem probably crosses my path at least once a day, but it was so blatant that it struck me.

I wanted to say thanks for all the nice comments here the past couple of weeks.  I have this place to vent, since I can't talk about some things to anyone else, and I really appreciate the sympathy and kind words.  I know there are many good things in my life, but it seems that the bad are really weighing me down, and I'm struggling to find those blue patches in the sky.  A friend writes "Life is good" at the end of each of her posts, and I want to feel some peace and evenness again.

Peace and evenness.

posted by: athenawj at 07:55 | link | comments (1) |
thanks, writing

You know, I was told yet again the other day, in an exasperated fashion, that I overthink things.  The funny thing is (although I didn't find it funny, really) is that whenever I'm told that, I've honestly not done that.  However, when I commented about it later, I said, "Well, somebody fucking has to sometimes!"

I can't get into specifics, but the truth is, we had a medical emergency here last week, and the last few days have been filled with medications (and a bad reaction), more medications, research, tears, discussions, and there is still another doctor's visit tomorrow.  Though things will get easier over time, now we have a long lifetime of medicine, and dietary considerations (though vitamins could take that role, I prefer to go the old-fashioned route), but hopefully, I Pray, no tears from now on.

So, we need a little strength.  Sorry I have to be vague here in my own blog, but you know the drill.  Some things you just can't lay all out here on the In-Tra-Net.  But that's where my renewed vigorous Vacation Yearning came from.  Not that I totally feel like running away every time something bad happens, but sometimes dreaming about escapism is easier than dealing with what's in front of you.  Though I deal.  Lordy, I do, in my own neurotic fashion.

And now, this morning, we have another medical deal: OD's meningitis vaccination.  I won't feel comfortable with her going to college without it, and neither does she.  Thank goodness for shots!

I think I may just pray-- not about the vaccination, but about the other thing.  A revelation: I rarely pray directly to God for guidance.  I am comfortable and happy with my belief in God (and it took a long time to get that way), but I don't believe in outright asking for God's intervening hand.  I've had friends during my life-- haven't we all?-- who would pray for every little thing-- ask God to do it for them, and it contradicted my belief that we need to figure it out for ourselves.  God doesn't generally handle every little problem for people that He gave free will to.  When we had "prayer time" (I forget what it was actually called, but let's call it that for the moment) at my old church, I would discuss with myself and God what I needed to better in my life, and work out what *I* needed to do.  I found it very relaxing and cathartic-- perhaps I should get back to that.

But I also believe in miracles-- believe in them or not, I've experienced one that I believe to be true in my life.  This won't be solved by a miracle, but I will pray for... easier times and understanding, and... well, shit.  A little more love at times.

Peace out, folks.  Here's hoping this week's better than the last.

posted by: athenawj at 06:05 | link | comments (2) |

Yes, yes, yes-- things went to hell in a handbasket again, but with research, talking and time, I feel better.  Such are things here on this Drive.  Instead of despairing about possibly not getting our vacation, I think we need to do everything we can to achieve it, because we desperately need a week away.

So, yes, I'm going away.  Gottagottagotta.  And if not, I might camp out in the backyard.

I sent pix of my tomato art to M. at the gallery, and she wrote back almost immediately, telling me how much she loves it.    Actually, she said if I was there she'd kiss me, heh.  She invited me to make more pieces if I was inspired, but so much shit was flying around here, I really couldn't concentrate.  I drop what I've got off tomorrow.

I am going to beg OD to take more pictures in the yard this evening or tomorrow evening.  I want to do color versions of this picture for my "color portrait" fair entry: Picture in a Picture.  That way, I can have both my kiddos' pictures in the fair.

Of course, YD has already told me that she doesn't want her picture up on the wall, but hey, do I care?  Nope.  Mom's prerogative.

Heh heh.

posted by: athenawj at 12:03 | link | comments (2) |

OD arrived home about eleven on Tuesday night.  I've spent a lot of time over the last couple of days listening to her about her trip to Japan.  What an adventure!  I remember being eighteen (or seventeen, actually-- I have a September birthday) and experiencing the highs of freedom-- I can't imagine experiencing it on the other side of the world, but how cool.

*The biggest thing I can think of is that OD likes Disney almost as much as her old mom.  Her favorite character is Max, Goofy's son.  In all the trips we've been to WDW, she's never met him.  But she met him at Tokyo Disneyland, got his picture, and he kissed her hand.  I told her she had to go around the world just to meet Max, heh.

*She doesn't particularly care for sushi seaweed.

*I thought she was brave, doing all that karaoking, when I could never even get her to play her clarinet for me and her dad.  Turns out that there are karaoke clubs, and you reserve a room, and it's just you and your party in the room.

*With the exception of Chinatown, it was very clean everywhere.

*She kept bonking her head on the overhead rail on the trains.  Being 5'9", I imagine she's taller than most others around her.

*There were two earthquakes while she was there.  She was in one that registered a 1, and the other was in the northern part of the country.

*Her host family was absolutely wonderful.  They were incredibly accommodating, and took her to a lot of places, wouldn't let her spend her money, etc.  Her friend's mom cried when she left. 

*There are a ton of other things, but being still bleary-eyed, I can't remember them.  If you want to see some pictures from her trip, you can see them on her flickr pages: OD's flickr

Yesterday we went dorm shopping.  I'd never before paid attention to "college stuff" being sold around back to school time.  Thank goodness we were able to get 95% of it done in one store.  Next up is orientation, then "Move In Day" on August 21.  Little over a month.  Jeez.

posted by: athenawj at 06:34 | link | comments (1) |

Reading a friend's blog this morning reminded me of my father-in-law.  He is a sweet man, a very intelligent man, and we've passed the parts of his life that he'd probably like to forget; all the girls, me and Mr. Calm know is the retired physics teacher, a very loving, devoted husband, and "Grandpa".  I don't know what happened, and won't ask him, but when he and his first wife divorced, the children, all grown, took her side and refused to have contact with him.  Now, one of his children has a semi-relationship with him, but the others still will not see him.  And I don't think that any of them saw him when he had a terrible car accident, or inquired about him when he went through chemo.

He has three 'sons' now, though: Mr. Calm and his brothers.  Whatever happened when C. was younger, they can't hold it against him.  Personally, I think he's the best of the "dads" they've had (this is L.'s fourth marriage.  And I'm discounting Mr. Calm and his older brother's real father, because he died when they were young, and I didn't know him.  Perhaps he would have been the best.).  And four grandkids that love him dearly.

This does remind me of what's going on with my parents.  My mom called me the other night to give me an update, and actually asked me if that "was okay".  I told her what I'd said before: this is HER life, and she needs to make the decisions about it (I think she got a little irritated when my voice rose-- not out of anger-- but hey Mom, where'd I get that from? ;)).  I can't tell her they're right or wrong.  But I made sure to tell her that I didn't hate my dad.  I don't like what he did, but I'm not turning against him.  And thankfully, my mom doesn't want us to hate him.  I can't imagine going through the rest of my life having to pick one over the other, and I'm glad I'm not being asked to.

Perhaps that's what it boils down to with C.,  his ex-wife and their children: "Pick him or pick me".  And that's terribly unfair to everyone.

posted by: athenawj at 07:54 | link | comments (2) |

Mr. Calm is in the Atlanta airport now, having waited for hours.  I hope he doesn't have to wait much longer.  We all forgot about OD having to come through Customs.  I hope there's no problem with all the stuff she's got in her carry-on.  Some of those are my presents!! ;)

So, yes, OD will be back home tonight.  And then next Thursday and Friday we'll be at orientation.  I wonder what wonderful things we'll get to do while she's registering and talking with advisors (snerk).  What, is my boredom with all the other orientations I've been to showing? ;)

Both Mr. Calm and I, hundreds of miles away from each other, slept horribly last night.  I told him I guess I can't live without his snores.  Heh.

I watched Gone, Baby Gone last night.  Highly recommended, though I found Amy Ryan completely unbelievable as the character, and don't understand where those nominations came from.  I had to turn on the captioning because, even after nine years up there, I couldn't understand some of the Boston accents.  Ugh.  After growing up in the lower North and very-very-South, Northern accents have always grated on my nerves.  So, while I'm watching GBG, it occasionally reminds me of how I would correct the girls whenever they spoke with a MA accent; and how even now, YD tells me that she wishes I hadn't done that.

I don't particularly care, heh.  I wanted them to talk plainly. 

posted by: athenawj at 15:57 | link | comments (1) |
movies, kids, memories

Today was better than yesterday.  Mr. Calm helped with a lot of reassuring hugs and words.  I cannot say that the messes in my life are entirely in my head, but I can admit that I am wholly able to work myself into an unwarranted tizzy over them.

The violin/viola place in town is a gorgeous place-- an old Victorian on Music Row filled with instruments, practice rooms, and work rooms.  We were given the run of the two showrooms, a tuner, table and fine bow, and YD was even allowed to try out the violas in the safe (not that we can plunk down $15,000 for a viola- whew!!).  She fell in love with one of the professional ones, one that she can use well into her career, and while I don't like the distressing on it (it's a distinction of the brand), it sounds rich and deep and gorgeous.

It'll take a while to pay off, but as corny as it sounds, the smile plastered onto her face after finding out she could have it was worth it.  She is totally in love with it.

(By the way, funnyshoes, do you recognize the pictures hanging on the wall just above her head? )

posted by: athenawj at 20:30 | link | comments (4) |
music, kids, memories

A few tears borne out of frustration this morning.  Yes, I'm still a little upset about being rejected for the drawing exhibit-- doubting myself again, wishing I'd worked up to my true potential, looking at other artists' work and feeling I'm not good enough, blah blah blah.  Decorating papier mache boxes with my drawings and odds and ends and then wondering, "Why the hell am I bothering?"

Got a kid going to college.  Even with two loans, we still have to foot part of the bill, and I worry it's not enough.  I worry ahead of time about YD's college bill on top of that.

YD brought her viola into the living room and showed us two loooong cracks through the body.  She said it was in her case the whole time.  Yarite.  Nevertheless, although we'd given ourselves nine months to save for a down deposit for an advanced, GOOD viola, now we have to get on the ball, worry about financing, find one she likes, blah blah blah.  I'm waking her ass up early so we can go to the local viola/violin shop and talk... viola.

I am pissed that the university seems to be in collusion with an outside company, and it seems that standard sheets you cannot buy anywhere will not fit the dorm beds-- they have to be specially ordered.  I can't just say, "Fuck that".

I was counting down the months til our October vacation.  Three months away-- within smelling reach!  And now I'm not sure we can go.  There's just too much going on.  Add onto that how behind Mr. Calm is, and I know that I won't "see" my husband for weeks afterward while he catches up.  Happens every time; this time won't be different.

Add to that how he has developed some sort of weird fear/anxiety about crowds and open spaces.  Many times we've had to leave a restaurant or mall early because he can't handle it.  And he won't do anything to alleviate it, either.  It's made life harder.  He was "sick" almost our entire last vacation.

And I am hating more and more living here.

I am a mess today.

posted by: athenawj at 08:58 | link | comments (2) |

My Blue Baby

Hrm, isn't blue baby something else?...

I should preface this by saying that I never do anything to my soil but till it and occasionally add topsoil, and fertilizer when I remember (which isn't much).  I have no idea what type of soil I have, other than there's damn hard clay in the sunny spots. 

Three years ago I planted a bare root hydrangea.  I did not add pennies to my soil or anything else-- I simply hoped and hoped and hoped that I would have a blue hydrangea.  Three years I had to wait to find out what my soil would give me.

Look what I got this year!!!

This is the second bloom (the first was waaaay at the bottom), and it's not finished changing yet.  So beautiful!!!

And when we move, this lovely's coming with ME.

posted by: athenawj at 09:45 | link | comments |
gardening, memories

It was a fucking emotional roller coaster yesterday.  I feel better today-- I actually thought that when I got up-- but I'll sell yesterday's memories to anyone for a penny.  Not to get into particulars, but two evenings ago, my mom called me and middle sister V. and poured out the latest set of problems, which were worse than they've been in a long time.  Not that we weren't sympathetic, but in addition to the support, we also both ended up yelling a little, trying to get through to her.  Neither of us feel bad about it.

So, V. and I talked yesterday afternoon, and it seemed we shared a brain about everything we felt.  It felt good to talk to someone who completely understood.  Later, I called my mom, who sounded like a zombie, and said she'd rethought things, and was going back on her original intentions. 

It was my turn to be numb.  When I called V., she was crying and pissed, and ready to wash her hands of the whole thing.  And I agree.  As V. said, "We're grownups-- we have our own problems!  We can't take on hers, too!"  And that's what's bugged me for awhile.  Every time there's a problem, we get to hear about it. It's been that way our entire lives.  But it leaves me sick and worried, and I spend a day or two or more distracted, and unable to focus on things in my own life when they really need focussing on. 

Mr. Calm, in his calm way, got mad at my mom for this.  He said I didn't need to know about some things in my parents' lives.  And he's right.  We may be grownups, but we're also still their children.  We don't need to hear about every single little problem, and certainly not some of the big ones.  Goodness, I don't tell my mom half of what goes on around here!  I don't need the "advice", for one thing.  I don't want to be judged, nor my children or husband.  And I know I have to figure things out myself.

I realize some of this might sound callous. But it really is a fine line you sometimes have to walk, I'm seeing.  I can listen til the cows come home, but at the same time, I don't know how we can be expected to keep hearing about things like this.  Like I said, it's hard to go on with your own life when you're being consumed with worry.

posted by: athenawj at 06:45 | link | comments (1) |