Writing Close to Home

In my romances, I sometimes write about ordinary people who perceive that something about them will get in the way of a happily ever after (or at least a happily for now). Secrets, personal failings, longings, parental disapproval. The couple overcome these and find room for love.

This latest book I wrote (it’s in the editing stage), Kringle through the Snow, has one character whose flaw is that she has bipolar 2, which is something I manage in my own life. She is scared that another hypomanic or depressive state is just around the corner and nobody else should be exposed to it.

This is one of the hazards of being bipolar — the stigma. Someone with complications like bipolar is certainly more daunting than people without, and some potential partners want uncomplicated situations. Some are just scared. It is possible to have bipolar disorder and go years before another attack because of diligent management; how is this different than having diabetes or another chronic disease?

I write to ask these questions. In my writing, I want people to confront their preconceived notions, because I think we are our own worst enemies. I think love, when it’s truly there, finds a way.

What I Learned

Describe something you learned in high school.

In high school I learned that sometimes your crush will pay attention to you and that’s enough.

Back then, 44 years ago, I had a crush on Mark. This was painfully (and I mean painfully) obvious to Mark, his girlfriend, and everyone else in high school. He took it well, however. And sometimes he would open up a little sunshine into my life.

Once we were caroling: me, him, his girlfriend, and the rest of the chamber singers. I dropped behind, mostly because the two lovebirds were lovebirding but also because I was cold and tired and depressed. He walked back to find me and ask if everything was okay. He held my unmittened hand briefly and told me it was cold and scolded me for going without mittens.

I wrote a poem for him once. It made fun of him because that was my undying declaration of love. (It ended with the words “you stupid klutz”.) He told me he would keep it in his billfold the rest of his life. I knew he wouldn’t, but the image was enough to make me laugh.

He married his girlfriend and as far as I know they’re still together. I went on to have many more unrequited crushes and eventually married. But I learned the little gifts of moments we receive from people can last in memory forever.

So Far So Good

I have Bipolar 2. Some people call it Bipolar Light, but to be truthful, the lows are just as devastating as they are in Bipolar 1. The highs are less extreme but can still be damaging as high moods lead to irritibility, impulsivity, and dysfunction.

The idea behind treatment is to even out the moods — cut the highs and the lows. Some of the medication I take targets lows, some highs, some both. Most people with bipolar take a fine-tuned cocktail of meds to optimally target their mood swings.

About two weeks ago, the doctor had to take me off the mainstay (lithium, the gold standard) because of damage to my kidneys. They’re weaning me off it, and I honestly don’t know how stable I will remain. They’ve upped another of my meds to see if it takes care of the problem. I know that if I start having trouble with my moods, I’ll be able to call my doctor and see if my meds need more tinkering.

This is scary to me, because active bipolar makes it harder to function. Depression is horrible; hypomania is fun until I’m not getting any sleep and overwhelmed with projects.

So far, so good.

Flying By the Seat of My Pants

So I’m taking a few minutes to write on Carrying Light this morning, having gotten through some work-type work. I am writing a scene where the collective (not a commune but close) takes part in a story-telling circle. This involves passing a stick from person to person so that they further the story. My main character is going to introduce the solution of their problems as a theoretical but impossible possibility. But it could be possible if their local deity takes it on. But why would She take it on? What if the main character is an acolyte of hers and doesn’t know it? If anyone would be, she would be, as she’s been blessed by that deity. WHY DIDN’T I THINK ABOUT THAT SOONER?

Time for foreshadowing. Time to go back into the story and possibly rewrite whole sections? Time to totally wing the next two thirds of the book because I didn’t plan for this? AAAaaack!

Just kidding. It’s moments like this that remind me of why I write.

When I write, I get into a zone and the words flow out of my fingers. My characters sit over my shoulder and tell me where they are and what they’re thinking. They talk to each other while I write. Every now and then I need to take a break to set the next scene.

It’s an odd way to write, I think, because I’m not always aware of what I write until later. Thank goodness for editing, because without it, I don’t think my stuff would be coherent. Sometimes I find myself moving entire pieces of the book because I put them in the wrong place (it took me 20 minutes to do that today.)

Normally I’m a plantser, which means I’m someone who makes a rough outline and works within that. These last two books have required so much rearranging that I’m a pantser, hanging on by the seat of my pants. My characters are really coming out of nowhere: “Hey, let’s talk about the Garden and its Trees now!”

I wrote 4000 words yesterday (or was it 3500? Let me check — oops, it was 4500) so it was an immense day of pantsing. My characters had a lot to say, and I finished Kringle Through the Snow. Another day, and I’m writing Carrying Light. Let’s see where I go.

Me and My Romance

I am almost done with Kringle Through the Snow, which is the Kringle (Christmas romance) book I almost didn’t write. I thought I was done with the Kringle series (this makes six of them) until one of my Facebook friends told me I needed to write more. It took little arm-twisting, but I always wonder if the current book is the last.

I never thought I’d write romance. And, in fact, my romance is clean (only implied sex) and funny. It’s much more relationship based, although it promotes the Instalove trope, which means people getting attached quickly; I think because that’s always been my personal experience. There’s also several friends-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers, and one age gap. (Two if you count the 100,000-year-old Su and the 6000-year-old Luke.)

Is romance realistic? It’s not supposed to be. It’s grounded in its society (whether that society be modern American, fantasy, science-fiction, etc) and fantastical in its romance elements. Some of the things that happen in romance would not or should not happen in real life (borderline stalkerish behavior, grooming, teacher-student romances) and some only happen in very defined and conscientious contexts in real life (S&M). Some things that happen in romance are just unrealistic. But romance is a type of fantasy — define the rules of the world and you can dream freely on the other parts.

To find my books, click here.

Announcement April 2, 2024

As I’m sure you figured out, I am not collaborating with Me-Me to write a book on Archetype cats as I announced yesterday. The truth is, she asked for an advance, and that’s not how the indie book marketplace works. So she will have to postpone her dream of publishing, and I will go back to my regularly scheduled work.

Today’s Exciting News

I am happy to announce that I will be co-authoring a book with our very own Me-Me! The book, Archetype Cats, will detail the lives of the immortal cats created by Angel to honor the cat who sacrificed herself to save Lilith.
Me-Me contributes her unique perspective as a cat, and I hope to harness my years of writing into a new venture. Expect madcap adventures, heartwarming tales, and the occasional bout of confusion, as these cats teleport wherever they like.

Fixing a Problem with the Story

Sometimes, when writing, I have to talk with my husband about plot points.

“What happens if the rural water goes out?” Richard sits on the couch with his phone out.

“Rural water will not go out, or else lots of people die.” My solution. I believe the water infrastructure isn’t likely to go out for a while, but when it does, the town will have trouble fixing it for a while. Unless the power goes out, and fuel for generators becomes scarce.

“But the collective is going to be prepared for it, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know how. They have less than a week to prepare for it. How are they going to prepare for it?” I type “Where does Mahomet IL get their water?” and I discover Mahomet is sitting on top of a massive aquifer that belts the middle part of the state of Illinois. In fact, it’s called the Mahomet Aquifer. “There’s an aquifer, but I don’t see the collective drilling a well in one week even if they can find someone with the equipment.”

“They could do the pioneer thing and dig it themselves.”

“Eighty feet? How do they get back up?”

“A rope.”

“In a week?”

“Wait a minute. Don’t they have a 100-year-old farmhouse on grounds?” This is where my husband remembers the setting of my story better than I do.

“Yes, but — “

“I would bet that farmhouse has a well.”

“So all they need is piping. And the parts. Lots of pipe and joins, tied in to the water tower — they should have a water tower, right?” (Why didn’t I think of this before?)

“They definitely should have a water tower.”

In my mind I’m painting the water tower because I’m easily distracted. I pull myself back to the current discussion. “Oh, but then we could put the municipal filter in so the water is clean. Hope they can get this done in a week^*.”

^* They don’t just have a week to refit the well. They have as long as they need because I am the author.

A Gift from the Universe

Today I found out that I will be teaching not one, but two of my favorite classes this fall.

The first is Family Resource Management, and this has a bit of history. I used to teach this when I taught in a Family and Consumer Sciences department (that is my background). It’s one of my favorite classes because all management is resource management. It’s part of everything we do and decide.

I lost this class when the FCS Department got disbanded some 12 years ago and I was placed in the Behavioral Sciences Department. I taught Psych classes there, teaching myself as I went along. The classes I taught in Psych included Research Methods, Personal Adjustment and General Psychology. I also taught (and still teach) Case Management, which is a lot closer to what I’m used to.

But now we’re bringing back Resource Management, and I’m teaching it!

The other class is Disaster Psych. This is a class for Emergency and Disaster Management majors. I am, besides being Behavioral Sciences faculty, EDM faculty by virtue of teaching Case Management, an option for the major that few students take. (Most EDM students are high adrenaline students who like humanitarian hot zones and lots of sirens).

I feel at home with the EDM people, and I work with them twice a year doing moulage (casualty simulation) for their disaster/humanitarian simulations. So I love working with them.

It’s funny how, when what we do is a good fit, our self-image becomes more solid. I have felt like an impostor for years, with most of the classes I taught not sitting with my self-image. But now I feel like I’m doing what I trained for.