A Look Back on Writing in 2019 & 2020 Goals for Writing

Even though 2019 was a rough year, one thing I did really well was making sure I had time to write and I wrote. I did not write every day, but I definitely wrote several times every week. I had been trying that "treat it as a job" approach for over a year, but it wasn't working for me. It sucked all the passion out of writing and I felt guilty if I didn't write during the times I had set aside due to a migraine or whatever. So I decided to try the "I Will Write Every Week" approach. Basically, writing became my place to relax and unwind. I was still writing down times to write in my planner, but it wasn't a, "YOU MUST DO THIS OR YOU FAIL AS A WRITER" type mentality. It was more, "hey, look at all this time you have to write! I know there's a lot going on, but once you get done with the stuff you HAVE to do, look at this fun thing you GET to do." Just a shift in perception and it made all the difference. It also helped that I had/have my writing groups and open mics as deadlines keeping me accountable. This is what I succeeded at this past year:

• Wrote every week
• Wrote every day for November & surpassed the 50,000 word mark for NaNoWriMo
• Sent out one Short Story (It got rejected, but with some pointers on how to fix the story so I'm seeing that as a win)
• Set up and started a Grief Journaling Workshop at the Library
• Continued with the Writers' Word Feast
• Visited an open mic I wasn't running
• Ran The No Shush Salon open mic
• Finished my memoir & gathered readers

Here are my writing goals for 2020:

• Send my memoir to my readers (Edit: DONE)
• Continue writing every week
• Send out writing for publication at least once a month
• Visit other (not run by me) writing groups
• Visit other (not run by me) open mics
• After getting back feedback from readers about my memoir (March 1), Edit it
• Figure out what direction I want to go with my memoir & go there

brain-storming an outline of my life - there are no dragons here

I started Grad school to get my MLIS (Masters of Library and Information Science) degree in the Fall of 2017. Thus far, I'm getting 'A's in all my classes! This is MONUMENTAL! While it may seem from the outside that I'm a good student, that has not always been the case. I have always struggled with reading due to my dyslexia and I've always had a difficult time focusing on just one thing. High school was tough on many fronts for me. I graduated undergrad with high marks (either all 'A's or 'A's and 'B's) only because in my undergrad career I transferred to a total of 4 different colleges/universities & transferring to a new place wipes your GPA. This was my saving grace since I was only a few points above failing after my first two years at University.

I'm sorry if this is boring. No one wants to read this. But I might as well keep it for something later... it's not going to get better. This is pretty much me brain-storming an outline of my life. I'm not delving into stories or details, just broad strokes. Lots, and lots of things are missing. It may develop further later, but not now. You have been warned! Proceed no further, there are no dragons here!

I thought I had hit my lowest levels of depression. This was when I was raped, but blocked it, yet hated myself without remembering why until years later. Despite one suicide attempt and lots of self harm, I managed to scramble out of that hole in Texas, follow my parents to Illinois, and got my AA at a community college. I was pulling my life back together. I decided I wanted to work in theater professionally as a Stage Manager or a Designer or something. (That was before I knew all the math that went into set design.) I was even dating someone who valued me. But I didn't feel I deserved that nor did I truly understand what real commitment was. So I ended it and dated someone not so good for me and fell back into another hole as different parts of my life fell apart.

This was the time that my oldest sister's accident happened. This was the time that my fiancee (even though I had never intended to get married, he had talked me into it) dumped me. This was when I found out I was pregnant and had an abortion. This was when I was suicidal again. This was when I was selfish and the worst big sister to my two younger sisters when they needed me most. This was when I went off to another University even though my mind, heart, and soul were not in it. (I was following the path the "more together" me had started instead of stepping back and reassessing.) This was when I lived with the biggest potheads on campus. Even though I did not smoke, the apartment was so permeated with it that I was high almost the whole time I lived there. This was when I found out that my body reacts poorly to pot. This was when I dropped out of University mid-semester. This was when I asked for help at the on-campus therapist's office, I was brushed off and it was either drop out or kill myself. This was when I moved back home... again. This was when I cut myself off from my parents and my family even though I was living in their basement. This was when the basement flooded, I fell into 3 feet of sewage water, and I lost all my writing of my youth. This was when my mom had a breakdown because the same flood destroyed almost everything she had saved for my oldest sister (who is now brain injured - functioning, but has to be cared for 24/7 and has serious memory issues) from her childhood. This was when I became even more self-centered and selfish. This was when I moved in with other friends, was a terrible housemate, and tried to kill myself there. This was when I reached out for help at a regular therapist's office. They really should have locked me up, but instead they made me promise not to kill myself before my next appointment and if I didn't show up for that, they would call the police on me. This was when I missed my next appointment. Nobody called or came to get me. This was when I realized nobody cared nor should they care if I didn't care. This was when I self harmed, a lot. This was when I fell and impaled a screwdriver into my knee. This was when, even after I called my dad and others for help as I bled everywhere, I realized I had truly screwed myself. This was when I took a vacation from work (I was working at Borders) so that I could kill myself without anyone being bothered. This was when I locked myself in my room swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, another of pain meds, and drank a bottle of vodka as a chaser. This was when I woke up three days later in a pool of vomit and piss, but very much alive. This was when I realized I had cut myself off from my housemates, who had been friends, so much that they if they checked on me, they decided to leave me be. This was when I decided to live. This was when I resorted to self-harm to remind myself I was alive. This was when I moved back home... again.

I took 5 years off from schooling to get my life sorted. I sort of did, thanks to becoming friends with my bestie. She was going through some trauma of her own, so I set aside my selfishness and focused on helping her. I also met and fell in love with her cats. She took me to a shelter so I could get my own cat. Oliver. The first pet that was mine. The first soul I saved. That was truly a turning point for me.

She was a tattooing apprentice at the time, so I offered up my skin as canvass. I already had two smallish tattoos and had found the pain and ink comforting. Besides, she was one of the best artists and the most "safety first" conscientious people I had ever met. She was also punk/goth as fuck. I found that tattooing could replace my need for self-harm and it left a mark of art in my skin instead of just scars. I had plenty of those, now I wanted art, beauty, a life worth living.

I went back to school and graduated in the top 10% of my class. I had a degree in Writing with a minor in Directing. I was teaching freelance writing/theater classes, writing on the side, running events (also freelance), and working part-time at a used bookstore, Kate the Great's Book Emporium. I had also gotten accepted into the grad school at my Alma mater, Columbia College and was looking to get a great Fellowship.

But then the place offering the Fellowship folded, Kate the Great's closed, and I found out that I had been doing my taxes wrong for last couple of years with all my freelance work and I owed the IRS thousands of dollars. (This on top of the loans I had taken out of college...) This was when I thought I was going to fall down that hole of hating my life, feeling like a failure, self-harm, etc. again.

But I didn't.

I had built a life that focused on helping others, including my family when I could, and I decided that to get myself out of the funk I was in, I would help others. I planned to continue my work with Free Street teaching theater and writing to inner-city youth once the break was over and I began looking for animal shelters to volunteer at. That's when I found a job at an animal shelter. It was full-time with benefits and they would use the W2 for taxes instead of the dreaded 1099 that got me where I was owing thousands. I actually applied and interviewed on a whim. I didn't get the job, 'cause I couldn't start right away. But then, two weeks later, when my teaching gig was about to be on a 2 month hiatus, they called me again. Apparently, the person they hired hadn't worked out and would I still be interested? YES!

I, at first, thought I could do both. But shelter work is physically and emotionally draining. I began to put my all into it. (I have that tendency... My mom called me her "all or nothing" girl when I was little.) Even my writing became more about animals. Within a year and a half, I got promoted to Feline Care Coordinator / Adoption Counselor. The pay wasn't great, but the work was fulfilling. Exhausting but fulfilling. Then it started to be more and more exhausting and less and less fulfilling. I was not enjoying myself. I was crying every night. But the interesting thing there was I was no longer crying for me, I was crying for the animals I could not save and crying in frustration over the people who treated animals as disposable. Oliver had passed a while ago. He had bone marrow cancer. Even though we still had cats, Sebastian and Miyu and Nova and Eva, they were all my bestie's cats, not mine. I loved them, but they were hers.

Then there was Meander. My dear old man now. He was named Sebastian and, coloring-wise, he reminded me of Oliver. I fell in love! He's such a handsome cat and he really liked me. But due to his name and his look, I told myself no. Besides, there were so many cats that needed homes, I couldn't adopt them all. Then he was adopted. I thought, "good. I won't be tempted." But then the woman brought him back. He went back up for adoption, but he was NOT adjusting well to being in a cage again. He bit an intern. That is a death sentence for a cat in shelter. I cried and told my boss I HAD TO adopt him. She let me. He's the best! I renamed him Meander and, even though he was already 4-6 years old, he took to his new name very well and even comes when called (sometimes... he is a cat, after all.)

Ugh! I haven't even gotten to the Horrible House or dog walking or things in my dating life or self identity or stuff from my childhood in Venezuela or my struggle with my family’s religion or my struggle with writing/dyslexia or my in and out about my sexual identity or how I ended up in libraries! But I'm late for my date with myself! But hey, I'm writing and this is not too terrible... I may just make my memoir my NaNoWriMo project this year...

My plan... For once in my life I have a plan that's not a nebulous, "let's see where this path takes me",  kind of thing.* 

The plan:

• Get my grad degree
• Finish my novel(s)
• Get a full-time library job
• Get novel(s) published(?)
• Buy a house (with Bek and possibly Ben)
• Keep writing & getting published
• Open a small sanctuary 

* not that there's anything wrong with following paths just to see where they go! I will always stand by my less directed younger life since it led me to all sorts of interesting, amazing, and educational places and people. It also led me to the place where I can make the plan I am now constructing. Will it work? Who knows! But it's all very interesting!

Writing Woes & NaNoWriMo

I have three novels and lots of short stories to work on, but my head and my heart hasn't really been in my writing these last several months. I know part of it is because I have a lot going on - a promotion, two jobs, working on two HUGE events along with my regular ones, housemates moving out, a pretty steady flow of foster kittens, getting ready to launch cemeteryguardians.com for it's second year, and just the regular business of living. But also, I've been feeling a draw to work on my nonfiction... to tell the story of my life... to write about my sisters... a memoir about my family... to write about Joy's brain injury... to write about how that one event completely changed my family. This is something I have been trying to write for twenty years, ever since her accident first happened. But almost three years ago my mother died and she has always been my best fact checker whenever I've written about our lives. Also, writing about something so true and personal is really hard and draining. I fear using what my family has gone through for my writing. I worry about not being true to what happened. Memory is faulty, and I have a brain that likes to embellish and fictionalize. I know that writing is cathartic, but I fear that sharing my life with strangers will not be fair to the people who share my life.

About seven months after my mom died, H is for Hawk came out. This memoir by Helen Macdonald was about her father dying suddenly, something I related to on a very personal level. But it was also about how she threw herself into training her hawk and secluded herself from the rest of the world. This experience is very different from mine, though I do tend to throw myself into whatever I'm doing, I've never had the luxury of time or money to step away from my life. But the emotion, or attempts to side-step emotion, in the story were very familiar. It helped me. It also made me think that if my writing could possibly help someone else, I should write my story.

So my plan is that in November, I will work on my memoir for NaNoWriMo. Over the first week of November, I am visiting one of my dearest friends in Rode Island and since she is an amazing author, I'm certain we will have time to write. I don't know if it will stay a memoir, and that's okay. All I know is that I need to write my life.

Thoughts About Process

Inspired by a conversation with my bestie, a visual artist:

I rarely write one story at a time. Currently, I have two novels I'm actively working on, two other novels sitting on the back burners in my mind, and about a dozen short stories I'm in the process of editing, finishing, or sending out. This is my problem... this has always been my problem. Not writer's block, writer's blockage. Too many ideas trying to be born at the same time. It's messy, counter productive, and frustrating. I'm great at starting things. I suck at finishing them. This is why I really like short stories. I can sometimes get all the way through a short story while I get distracted when working through a novel. But, to be honest, this also happens with about half of my short stories too. That's why I have so many story starts.
Once I tried just focusing on one story and setting all other stories aside. I forced myself to complete the story. It was terrible, but finished. The next story I worked on I tried to do that again, but then an idea for another story kept demanding my attention so I gave in and worked on that too. It took more time, but it felt natural to work that way. So when thoughts about one of my novels kept saying, "hello! Pay attention to me!" I was attentive.
My main goal right now is to finish all the story starts I have. Will I start other stories in the interim? Possibly. But if I can just get one story finished, edited, and sent out each week (month?), I will be happy.

Notes on The Humor panel at the World Fantasy Convention

Over the weekend (Nov. 1-4), I was given the opportunity to go to World Fantasy Convention Toronto, Canada. This was an AWESOME present from my best friend!!! I met and reconnected with so many people and learned so much!

The Humor in Fantasy Panel was the first one I went to. I'm so glad I did! Here are my notes about the insight that spoke to me:

(I don't have the program with me, so I'll fill in the details later.)


Humor in Fantasy

"Humor often defines who we are."  ~ Tanya Huff
"[writing is] sharing a dream with someone you have never met."  ~ Sarah Beth Durst

Laughing with characters you love
Humor can start with the premise and/or it can come in the editing process... word choices based on "is it funny?"

Some forms of humor:

• Situational
• Premise
• Unexpected or "pie in the face"
• discovery - giving the audience something they can perceive before the the character gets it.
• banter
• unintentional character revelation - done usually through dialogue
• splash of the absurd
• embarrassment
• coping mechanism

BALANCE - do not sacrifice what feels true for what's funny

Be aware that to a certain extent, much humor is generational
Universal humor is much harder to attain, but carries through the years

Make sure the humor doesn't deflate the tension/stakes of the scene
(be sparing with humor that makes fun of the characters)

Be aware of:

• Where there is the anticipation of humor (from the characters or the audience) and use it!!
• Humor that makes the reader uncomfortable so you can decide if that's what you want to do
• how humor can create a bond with the reader

Symphony of humor....

• sprinkling the humor throughout
• pacing it appropriately throughout the piece... i.e. a little Oboe goes a long way!!

Humor often comes from the outsider viewpoint. Since Fantasy / SciFi is already looking at the world askew, it's often a good match.

Draw from the people who make you laugh. inspiration