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.

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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.

Thunderstorms (Pt. 2)

The clouds are moving in. Light clouds right now, but there is a chance of severe weather – winds, possible hail. A tornado would not be unheard of. The weather service says this should start about the time I am conducting a meeting that I would rather skip.

I might not be conducting. I may be looking out the window at the storm. The storm speaks to me; it speaks louder than this business meeting. It speaks louder than this white-walled room with its whiteboards and white screen.

If I could walk out into the storm, I would.

Thunderstorms

What is your favorite type of weather?

I love thunderstorms. I live in the Midwest, which has a fine number of thunderstorms each year. The pounding rain, the flashes of lightning that hit all too close to the house, the ringing thunderclaps are all dear to me.

When I was younger, I had the perception of walking through a bolt of lightning. I did not really walk through lightning because I had no charring or lightning trees on my body. But I found myself completely surrounded by a hot white light, no clap of thunder. I always felt from that point forward that lightning had claimed me.

I like the drama of thunderstorms. I am not dramatic; I have aged into a pretty staid person. But I claim thunderstorms as my alter ego.

What do you wish you could do more every day?

I wish I could write more. That doesn’t mean I never have enough time to write. Sometimes, something else gets in the way.

Sometimes it’s my focus and I find myself taking a detour on the Internet. Sometimes it’s negative self-talk that makes me not want to write. Sometimes it’s too much to think about.

Today it’s my iPad is down to zero and is recharging very slowly. I can’t always do something about it.

All is Bright Again

Today feels more like spring (at 42 degrees) than did the weather in the 60s a couple of weeks ago. It could be the quality of the sunshine, or yellow forsythia flowers chilling on the bush. Or the mobs of robins on the lawn and in the trees.

I have gotten through the winter without depression dogging my steps. I don’t know how I did it, other than luck. Definitely luck. I feel a bit tired right now, but not depressed. Not crying, not dreading work, not denigrating myself.

I’m still keeping watch. I am in the middle of the 12^th anniversary of the most stressful time of my life. My best friend died, then my department disbanded, and I was hospitalized with suicidal ideations and a medicine-related problem. I spent the summer overmedicated and yanked off of supervising internships. I am always afraid this will happen to me again.

But in the meantime, it’s Spring. I watch the birds to see what might surprise me today. I write, feeling the words become part of me. I look for crocuses, for daffodils, for a reminder that all is bright again.

A Saint’s Day

I am going to write about the patron saint of this day, March 17.

Not that one.

I’m writing about St. Gertrude. St. Gertrude is the patron saint of cats for reasons that do not appear in her history. It might be because she was the patron saint of rats and rats spread bubonic plague so we have to bring the cats out to rid us of the plague — but no. Early Catholicism was brutal on cats, especially black ones.

Nowadays, though, in this cat-loving world of ours (the cats won!) Gertrude can be portrayed with a cat in her lap and the rats scurrying away.

St. Gertrude is also the patron saint of gardeners, widows, the recently deceased, the sick, the poor, the mentally ill, and travelers. She sounds like someone I’d like to hang out with.

How does one celebrate St. Gertrude’s Day? I guess by petting cats. They’ll be happy for the attention.

My Go-Kit

As a writer, I want to be prepared for writing wherever I go, because who knows when I’m going to have an hour or two to work. I write my works on computers unless I have to interrogate (interview) my characters; then it’s pen and ink. So I have to have a keyboard with me at all times.

The problem with that is that my laptop is powerful, which means it’s big. Heavy. It has to be, because it’s the computer I do my graphics work on. Graphics to me is layout for book covers and not actual drawings or renderings, but I still feel like I need muscle in my laptop.

That means that I need a lighter computer for on-the-go. Thus, my go-kit.

My go-kit is centered on an iPad with an M1 chip and 256 MB storage at just over 1 lb weight. It’s quite useful for information gathering, word processing, and most of what I need to do to produce a book. (I understand it uses Photoshop as well, but I have some trouble accessing the materials I need on here.)

To make this a computer substitute, I need input devices. Rather than get one of Apple’s expensive magic keyboards, I am content with a matching Logi keyboard and mouse, which together cost $50. They match the protector case on the iPad as well, all in what Logi calls “Lavender Lemonade”. See above.)

All this, including the cable, fits in a small computer bag (also lavender) that goes with me almost everywhere, hence the name. I have yet to utilize it fully, however, because I have trouble using the Apple Pencil without glitches. If I can get that taken care of, I wouldn’t even need the pen and ink.

So here’s my solution to not wanting to haul a heavy computer around so I can write when I’m inspired.

Spring Break Again

It’s Spring Break, and I’m writing and reading.

Writing: two items at once:

Kringle Through the Snow (Kringle #6)
Carrying Light (Hidden in Plain Sight #5)

Reading:

Reclaiming the Balance (Hidden in Plain Sight #3)

And, frustratingly, I don’t feel like I’m getting too far. Sometimes, things go swimmingly, and sometimes they go drowningly.