That feeling that something’s going to happen

The feeling like something is about to happen.

It feels like an itch between the shoulderblades, so deep that no amount of itching could get rid of it. Like a target is painted there and I can feel where the arrow is going to land, but it hasn’t landed yet.

Most of the time I feel like this, nothing happens.

If anything prompts this feeling, it’s the belief something should be happening and frustration that it’s not. I’ve just got off for break, I don’t go back in until the second or so week of January, and I don’t know what to do with myself.

I could work (I have a poster to do) but my brain is still tired from finishing up the semester and it’s Saturday.

I could rest, but that’s the sort of thing that brings up this feeling something should be happening.

I could write — I probably should write. That would likely get me out of the house, because I write better at the cafe. A short story awaits.

My semester is over! Now what to do?

I’m on break and I already don’t know what to do with myself.

I’m too bored to surf and not motivated enough to write. Or do anything that uses my brain.

This will definitely not do.

What I’d really like to do is spend a day or two at a spa. As I’m 120 miles from a spa, that is not happening.

So I’m probably going to go to the cafe and see how much I can get written on Kami today.

Short note — so sleepy, cannot brain.

So sleepy. Cannot brain.

My last final is today, and after that I’ve only got internships to grade, and grades to turn in, and I’m done for winter break.

I just need coffee to get through this. Luckily it’s on the brew.

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The coffee has arrived.

It might take two cups of coffee to get through this.

Or maybe even three.

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After break, stories to write. I’m a little torn at the expansion of Kami, because my writing is filling the background up — with Barn Swallows’ Dance, with its magic. I’m afraid it will be too strange for the contest I want to enter it in. Ah well, I knew I’m not that standard.

Have a great day!

Counting the words

I am trying to extend a 1200 word story into a 7000 word story for a writing contest. I’ve written 300 words so far; so I only have to do this 22 more times.

I tend to like short, concise writing, even in novels. I wonder if it’s because I’m relatively impatient, or whether I have a short attention span, or whether I really really can get everything I want done in fewer words. I’ve been told the latter by my dev editor, who doesn’t want me to lengthen things. On the other hand, I have a short story that an editor would like to see as a novel. He’s absolutely right, and it would make a great prequel to Prodigies, but I would have to immerse myself in Poland for a couple weeks to get the feel for it.

So, back to the story. The story is Kami, and it’s about death and afterlife. It also features Jeanne and Josh Beaumont-Young, one of my favorite couples. Jeanne at this point is 80 and has just lost her 55-year-old husband of 27 years. I like the couple because they defyour common notions of love and attraction, and because they have a chemistry despite their bookishness.

I need to take a deep breath and set myself a writing goal, and just write, then edit. Luckily I have a vacation to do it.

Pandora’s FedEx Package

I have a mystery box coming to me.

I found this out via a text from FedEx. One package to arrive on this Thursday before 5 PM. I love packages!

The problem is that I have no pending merchandise orders from anywhere. My husband doesn’t have any pending orders from anywhere. And, as far as I know, the cats don’t have any pending orders from anywhere.

In examining the FedEx text, I can discern the following: The package originated in Berlin, CT. The shipping path began in Northborough, MA. The package’s dimensions are 20x12x4, and it weighs 4.2 lbs. It has been in package jail in Odessa, MO for two days.

What can I deduce? I’m failing. My fantasy life has many guesses:

A present from family? (From Berlin, CT? I have no family there.)
A marked-up copy of my novel with a book offer? (I’m pretty much sure that’s not how it’s done.)
A package bomb? (By FedEx? Highly unlikely).
A sweepstakes prize? (“Here’s a grocery sack with our logo!”)
An inheritance from a long-lost relative? (“Here’s a grocery sack with a logo!)

I will know soon. It will likely be something I ordered six months ago that I can’t remember. But I can dream, can’t I?

The semester is winding down …

It’s finals week, and after I do some wayward grading, all I have left is the finals, which are multiple choice and computer graded. And then I will be done with the semester and get some quality time with my brain.

I wonder if I will feel possessed to write a new novel? I said I would back down from noveling because I have five I can release to the querying process. I could query — I think it’s been enough time. I could write short stories or poetry. I can’t just sit around and do nothing.

So my break will be at least partially a writing break. It will also be a research break, a class-tweaking break (most of this is, however, done). A sit and pet kitties break. A big coffee break. A sit at the massive fireplace at Starved Rock with a mug of Irish coffee break.

I’m looking forward to it.

Something to learn

Sometime around the 2nd of February, I will have put in 1000 entries into this blog. A couple-three years or so worth of entries. This boggles my mind, because I didn’t think I could stick to something for that long.

To be honest, I’ve never been good at sticking to things. I plant a garden and the weeds take over. I start a hobby and I abandon with a room full of supplies. A good amount of this is from the bipolar, when one gets a boost of enthusiasm and energy in mania and then heads down a spiral of depression. Some of this has to do with my ability to over-focus at times, and the subsequent burnout. Some of it has to do with my somewhat lacking planning skills. In other words, I’m a mess who can concentrate on two things well: My job and my writing.

Maybe I have something to learn from this — what keeps me on track on these two areas? Influence on the outside.

How can I use this? Provide myself with external contact points, such as this blog does. There aren’t many of you, but I don’t want to let you down, so I keep writing. I keep trying to publish. I keep asking for feedback.

So, if you’re stuck anywhere in life, what motivates you? What is your workaround?

The Christmas We Make

I’m sitting on my couch in a room transformed into the Christmas my husband and I never felt we had. Both of us had mothers with illnesses, especially around the high-stress times of Christmas, and we tiptoed through the house hoping not to aggravate things. So now we have stockings (hanging on a windowsill; our mantle is a fake fireplace and scaled to make the stockings look ridiculous). We have greenery and seasonal stuffed toys and a now-collectable Avon Christmas train tree that plays tinny Christmas carols. And a tree, lit like my tree in my childhood was, with little multicolored lights. (These modern lights are a bit day-glo, but I’m okay with that).

We play Christmas music almost non-stop. One thing I didn’t know about my husband when I met him is that he has an ever-growing set of Christmas albums on iTunes. Right now, it’s cool jazz; I’m looking forward to some classical pieces on the soundtrack.

This is where some would piously import that trees and such aren’t the real meaning of Christmas. I would argue against this; the real meaning of Christmas is celebration. Let people celebrate the spirit of good that they will. Richard and I celebrate recovery from painful childhoods, among other things. We celebrate that we can make a Christmas for ourselves.

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I really apologize for the test note blog yesterday — I was testing to see if IFTTT could submit a post announcement to Twitter and Facebook so I could quit the extra step of using Hootsuite to post. (Note: It can’t.) Ten of you actually read the post, which is really nice of you.)

test note

Test note. Thanks for your patience!

Short Essay: Through the Years

“Through the years, we all will be together

if the Fates allow – “

I have spent Christmas surrounded by family, sitting in Santa’s lap as a young child. I have spent Christmas stirring gravy for the Friends of Christmas holiday meal for those alone or suffering. I have spent Christmas musing about some fellow I’d developed a crush on. I’ve spent Christmas estranged from family. I’ve spent Christmas sleeping on a friend’s couch. I’ve spent Christmas admitted to a private psychiatric treatment program. I have spent Christmas caroling with Mormons, sitting in silence with Quakers, performing at Lessons and Carols with Episcopalians, holding a Yule ritual on my own. I have spent Christmas trying to convince my mother she wasn’t dying and years later watching her on her deathbed. I’ve spent Christmas being snubbed by a boyfriend’s family. I have spent Christmas holding my breath on a perfectly still Christmas evening among the lights of a community park, realizing that every Christmas holds a mystery for the heart to solve.