Something Accomplished

I’m sitting in the controlled chaos of our living room next to a framed poster of the latest book in the Hidden in Plain Sight series, Reclaiming the Balance. It’s due out January 1st, with the usual little fanfare. I am thinking of having an online open house for people to drop in on, but the last time I did that nobody showed up. It is a bad time to expect people to show up, in the US at least.

The posters are a ritual, driven by the fact my cover artist, my niece Rachel, is quite talented and does iconic covers. I give her very little to go on, and it’s like she reads my mind. I have aphantasia, or the inability to picture things in my mind, so it’s very hard for me to imagine how she does this.

I write and I publish. I don’t have too many readers, so I feel discouraged at times. But I know there are so many indie books out there, and I can’t afford expensive marketing that has no guarantee of working. I have to accept things as they are, which is why I print the covers as posters. I want to feel like I’m accomplishing something.

My Pet Peeve

Daily writing prompt

Name your top three pet peeves.

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I will not post three pet peeves, because I hate one peeve with a passion that burns away the other two. I loathe it with a legendary loathing that lingers. I hate it with … enough of that. Let me get to the point:

Hypocrisy. I cannot stand when people profess against something and then turn around and do it. It seems to be part and parcel of intolerance. Ministers who preach the word of a deity who commands us to give to the poor own private jets and palatial mansions. Politicians who denounce the LGBT+ community frequent gay dating apps. “Do as I say, not as I do” is the call of the hypocrite.

I realize, though, that all of us at times are hypocrites. I decry climate change and drive a car. I could justify that with all sorts of excuses, including “there’s no public transportation around here,” but I would be a hypocrite if I recognized others’ hypocricy but not my own. Humans are imperfect creatures who need to believe in our convictions even though we don’t always follow them. I will still loathe the most egregious instances of hypocricy, however.

Almost Writing Again

I think I have the idea on how to re-re-revise this year’s Kringle novel. It’s going to be a little flexible with reality, but not in an unrealistic way. No, that didn’t sound so intelligent. Let me try again. I will have to introduce a slightly unrealistic scenario, but not one that requires a massive suspension of disbelief.

Oglesby Illinois – United States – April 26th, 2023: Exterior of the Starved Rock Lodge in Starved Rock State Park, built in 1933-1939, on a beautiful Spring morning.

The problem has been how to keep my aspiring writer in town and at the lodge for long enough that she actually has time for relationship development from meet-cute to growing interest to the peak, the misgivings, the breakup, and the reconciliation. The writing retreat has to be about two weeks long, and she’s not independently wealthy, so two weeks at the lodge isn’t something she can afford (even though it’s not exorbitantly expensive to stay there).

Enter an artist-in-residence program. This is not completely unrealistic; Amtrak had one a few years ago (that I desperately wished I was well-enough regarded as a writer to receive). There’s no reason the lodge couldn’t have this, and in the winter, which is not the prime tourist season. I know in reality that the lodge I am modelling this after never has a down time and thus would not sponsor an aspiring writer. But it’s theoretically possible.

In this scenario, my female protagonist, a writer, would be invited for a two-week artist-in-residence stay at the lodge, which would last through Christmas. During this time, she would give a book reading, talk to local aspiring writers, and write some features on the area. So she would interview the local Santa and visit the surrounding towns as well as the park. And she would fall in love with the executive chef.

How does she have two weeks for a writer’s retreat if she’s also college faculty? This is the end of her sabbatical, and she will go back to work after the break. Not unreasonable assumptions again.

I think this is doable. All I have to do now is write it.

Special Foods

Daily writing prompt

Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?

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Photo by Photo By: Kaboompics.com on Pexels.com

I taught a lesson in my classes that covered the question “what shapes our tastes and preferences?” The questions asked of my students were as follows:

What did you have for dinner last night?
What did your family typically have for dinner?
What were special holiday foods?
What was the most unusual food you’ve eaten?

The first and second questions covered items like availability and ease of use. Sometimes dinner reflected the cultural exchange of foods into our society (if they said, for example, pizza and spaghetti). The third question, though, hit upon the idea of food as cultural expression.

Holiday foods were typically traditional cultural foods — the typical Thanksgiving dinner for example. US Thanksgiving turkey and stuffing come from the near-legendary first Thanksgiving, but run through a British colonial filter. (The original Thanksgiving dinner featured venison and fish, not turkey. The turkey is the American bird version of the goose served at Christmas in Britain.)

Sometimes students’ special holiday foods included cultural celebrations. Often they weren’t aware until they learned not everyone eats ollebollen (fried round raisin dumplings) at New Year’s. Others were aware that their German or Swedish heritage meant special Christmas cookies.

That being said, what were my holiday foods? I think of my dad’s side of the family, who descended from people who hunted and trapped and fished as their livelihood. Holiday meals had to include foods that could have been procured by my ancestors. For example, my grandfather smoked trout and that would go on the Thanksgiving table. We would have duck or goose — storebought, but something my ancestors would possibly serve. My mother’s family would make the more traditional thanksgiving, but oil and vinegar coleslaw would be on the table. (I don’t know if this was because we had German ancestry or because mom made really good oil and vinegar coleslaw. I have her recipe because it was straight out of the Betty Crocker cookbook.)

This year I’m eating at a restaurant for Thanksgiving because there’s only two of us. This is what happens in the US as the oldest generations die; the grandparents become the nucleus with their children and grandchildren as satellites. We have no children or grandchildren, so my husband and I are a unit of two. This works fine for me.

A Well-Deserved Break

My (American) Thanksgiving break starts today after classes, for which I am very thankful. The thing about being faculty at a university is that you don’t get to schedule vacations when you want, but the vacations you get are generous. A week at Thanksgiving and Spring Break, three weeks at Christmas, and the whole summer if you elect not to work summers. (Many, if not most, faculty teach at least one summer class; I handle internships.)

Often, our breaks aren’t work-free. Many faculty members, like me, will catch up on grading over the break, or will set up classes for next semester in the spaces between semesters. But the change in routine, and that we won’t be dressing up and meeting students, is a break enough.

I plan on resurrecting my Christmas novel over the break, grading three homeworks, and playing Christmas carols (I know it’s early, but I need a little Christmas now with all the political bad news we’re going through). My to-do list also involves a certain amount of lounging on the couch. I will be going to Kansas City for a writing retreat and Thanksgiving dinner over the weekend, so don’t feel too sorry for me.

I need this break, because when I get back to work, there will be three major assignments to grade and then finals (including an essay final) in two weeks. And then there will be Christmas break.

If I didn’t need sleep …

Daily writing prompt

If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time?

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I can hardly imagine not needing sleep. Sleep feels like a blessed release from the mental demands of the day, and I enjoy going to sleep as if it were a chosen activity rather than a necessity. I have (because of my bipolar) had episodes where I couldn’t sleep, and it’s an aggravating feeling. For the sake of this exercise, however, I will imagine not needing sleep without consequences to my body or psyche.

The first thing I would do more of is read. Not the internet, but real books, because I would have time to get into them. I would find a comfortable spot to read and l would relax. My bed could be used for a place to relax because I would not be sleeping there.

I would look at the night sky more. All the interesting astronomical bits such as meteor showers and auroras happen late at night, when I am sleeping.

I would write. I wonder if inspiration would be easier at night when all was quiet?

I would meditate. As I would miss sleeping, it would be good to have that time when I can shut off my mind.

All of this is predicated on the belief that others would be asleep, and I would have the peace and quiet to pull off my plans. If nobody slept, this time wouldn’t be free. Bosses would expect more overtime and household chores would overtake us. Then I would certainly prefer sleeping.

When Giving Up is a Good Thing

I have given up writing my latest Kringle Christmas romance. I don’t like giving things up, but the premise of the book became untenable upon writing.

I had given up writing it once before, feeling that the timing was all wrong. Then I got an idea to expand the time period of the book so that I had more time to develop the relationship. It turns out it wasn’t enough; I don’t have enough time left in the story to develop the downturn of the relationship, where the couple starts second-guessing the relationship and their own fitness for it.

Let me explain: My Christmas romances generally run from a few days before Thanksgiving through mid-December. The relationship develops fast, but I have about three weeks of plot-time to develop the relationship. That’s enough to take them from developing relationship to devolving relationship and through the reconciliation. With Kringle All the Way (the book I just abandoned), the couple had from the 17th through the 25th to get through all those stages. Try as I may, I didn’t have enough time in which to develop the relationship. In a Christmas romance, the happy ending has to happen by Christmas. What’s more depressing than a breakup over Christmas? That’s why the timing is so important.

This is the first story I’ve given up! I have a story that I’ve set aside for a while with a promise to get back to it eventually, but that’s not the same. I don’t enjoy giving up, but this story is fatally flawed. To spend any more time on it is to waste that time. That’s why giving up is sometimes a good thing.

Priorities

I’m in the busy time of year — grading upon grading; major assignments coming due — and that doesn’t bode well for writing. I am about 1/4 through the re-conceived version of this year’s Kringle novel and stymied because I just don’t have the mental bandwidth to write. I have plenty of time to finish it, as I’m not doing NaNoWriMo. I just don’t have time right now.

The thing I used to teach (and will teach again) in resource management — the importance of a task and the motivation toward the task should match. Nothing more motivating than angry students who need that assignment to be graded. Luckily I’m motivated to do the important task of grading, or at least motivated enough. Some music to motivate should help.

My top priority is to get the assignment graded. From there, other work. Maybe I will get to write this afternoon.

Wish me luck.

I need a break

I really need a break. I’m at that point where I’m grateful on Fridays and jealously guarding my weekends, and on Monday still feel tired.

Photo by Anna Tukhfatullina Food Photographer/Stylist on Pexels.com

Good news is that I have a week at (American) Thanksgiving a week from now. Let me just get through this week …

CATS

Daily writing prompt

What are your favorite animals?

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I think it’s clear to anyone who has followed me for any time that my favorite animals are cats. (Dogs and goats are tied for second place).

Why cats? First, because of all of their moods. My cats are silly, aloof, affectionate, grumpy, sleepy, and content. They remind me a lot of me in their variety. And they have no trouble telling me what mood they’re in.

Second, because they’re amusing. Whether doing zoomies, jumping into the bathtub until it starts filling up with water, or defiantly standing on a high surface, cats’ antics leave me chuckling. Sometimes they’re not so amusing, such as when they climb up a Christmas tree (who am I kidding? If they’re climbing up someone else’s Christmas tree, it’s hilarious), but for the most part cats are funny.

Third, because they’re beautiful. Even my chunky cat Chloe possesses a beauty that makes me envious. They flow, they slink, they’re smooth and powerful. (Except for Chucky, who lumbers and plunks).

Having three cats in the house has been a cornucopia of experiences. I can’t imagine being without cats. If I were, my house would be that much less comforting.