Sunday morning with coffee, cats, and blogging

I write this blog every day with coffee. I sit on the loveseat in my living room, surrounded by cats, sipping on my coffee (cream, no sugar) and typing.

Today, on a Sunday, I move more leisurely because I don’t have to go to work. I get started writing a bit later, and I have more time to enjoy my coffee. The coffee, homeroasted, is a Costa Rica Helsar Macho Arce with orange and walnut notes.

This is the coffee we’re drinking.

Right now, Girlie-Girl (a grumpy calico aged 15) sits to my right, next to the trackball. Chloe (the fiesty little tortoiseshell, plays at my feet. Me-Me (the needy dilute grey and white), jumps on and off the back of the couch. She’ll be back soon.) Chucky (the huge orange cat) minds his own business.

I don’t plan what I write; rather I search my mind and my soul on what I want to say. If I had to plan every day, I would not be writing every day. It would cease to be fun and relaxing. I have enough things in my life that aren’t fun and relaxing.

My husband updates me on the upcoming weather; it looks like we’re getting 8-12 inches of snow Monday and Tuesday. I work from home Monday; the storm may mean I work at home on Tuesday as well. Regardless, I will have my morning ritual of coffee and cats.

And here’s a picture of Girlie helping me write the blog.

I found my muse!

I’m looking for a muse.

I’m thinking of “muse” in the more abstract sense, because real-life muses seem to take too much energy.

I need to feel inspired, which is something that’s hard to find when more or less filling in the areas between plot, which is what I’m doing with Gaia’s Hands. I don’t feel the sense of flow that I do when writing a novel. I’m not getting the sense of delight over my characters or scenes.

I’m frustrated. I may actually go through an old manuscript I haven’t developed much and edit the holy hell out of it, except it needs to be turned into a romance itself. (It’s actually well on its way.) The name of it is Reclaiming the Balance, and the male protagonist is non-binary in the most literal way. I haven’t touched that again because it makes me uneasy, and I have to search my soul and question myself.

Ahh… I’ve had half a cup of coffee and I’m suddenly feeling inspired to write. For the moment. Maybe breakfast coffee is my muse!

Refining writing

I can’t motivate to write today. Maybe it’s because I had a long (compressed) work week with my first full days of class and I’m bushed. Maybe it’s because I got up later and am just drinking my coffee. Maybe it’s because there are no cookies in the house. At any rate I’m going to motivate myself to write starting with this blog.

Part of my struggle is wondering whether I’ll ever get published. Self-publishing has taken the edge off my desire to get traditionally published. At the same time, I do want to accomplish getting traditionally published. I just need the drive.

I have writing to do. I need to rewrite/write Gaia’s Hands (the book I most complain about) and edit another older book, Reclaiming the Balance. I would like to write a new one from scratch but I just wrote Kringle in the Night so it’s not time for a new book. It’s time to move out writing, complete writing, refine writing.

Oh, and just for you, I’m posting Bernie Sanders’ visit to my university:

Breathing Easier (Inaugural Edition)

As dramatic and cliche as it sounds, I feel like I’ve awakened from a nightmare.

My vision seems clearer. My shoulders seem straighter and all I can do is marvel in the sense of relief I feel. I no longer feel like I’ve been marinated in hatred. I feel safe to cry.

And I’m white. I’m educated. I personally didn’t have as much to risk under Trump. I can try to imagine how black, Latino, LGBTQ people felt under Trump, but I suspect my imagination is rather inadequate. I suspect they don’t feel as sanguine as I do over this new president, because they’ve suffered from too many broken promises in this country. A cautious “wait and see”, perhaps.

Time will tell whether Biden is merely “Better than Trump” (a low bar to surpass) or a truly good president. But for now, I’ll breathe easier.

A Return to Hope (Inaugural edition)

So today’s the inauguration of President-elect Biden and Vice-President-elect Kamala Harris. It has been a harrowing four years under the Trump administration, filled as it was with right-wing jingoism, bows to white supremacism, and actions which targeted vulnerable populations, delicate natural landscapes, and at times, the very soul of a democratic nation.

I had thought Trump’s reign would be over sooner. Each new outburst made by Trump on Twitter made me wonder if the vice president would invoke the 25th. Each allegation — collusion with the Russians in the 2016 election (disproven), quid-pro-quo maneuvering with Ukraine (probable) petered out in the legislature. Shaming us on the world stage — there is no mechanism to get rid on him in that case, but I at least expected that people would turn away from him.

They didn’t, and I feel this is an indictment of the American people.

I don’t know if they were attracted to Trump’s lies or his xenophobic cruelty; I don’t know if they identified with his wrapping himself in the American flag or they felt his bumbling, ranting speeches were “like them”. But they didn’t shrink away from his threats, his tacit acceptance of white supremacists or his bullying. In the recent election, almost half the US supported him. This lingers as a source of fear and dismay.

But now Biden will be installed as 46th President of the United States. There is hope, although Biden has a lot to undo and a somewhat limited time to do it in. Some things, like the rise of white supremacy in the US, may take years to undo. Other things, like battling COVID, may be difficult. I pray that we can heal from the Trump agenda and all its hatred.

The Frustration of Teaching under COVID.

Here’s a typical class session under COVID:

I get to the class a few minutes early to set up for class. This requires a computer, a USB camera and area microphone that I’ve brought to class. Add in an HDMI cable to the projection unit, and I’m hooked up. My computer screen is now projected onto the screen up front.

I open up Zoom and see my face projected upon the big screen. Urgk. I don’t like looking at myself larger than life. I twiddle with the camera so it’s at the right angle — it’s never at the right angle; due to the camera’s height limitations it will always be looking up my neck.

The whiteboard behind me is useless, because it projects backward to the Zoom students. Moving around while teaching (my favored style) is useless because then I will disappear from sight. Every visual must be from the computer because it must be visible both for the in-class students and the online students. Luckily, Zoom allows for screen-share, although that can get awkward at times with clicking it on and off and on again to see new documents and windows.

I pull up a few windows — the first with the seating chart, which will be visible when students come in. Only half the class meets at a time due to COVID distancing, and we need a static seating chart for COVID contact tracking at the University. Our class still is not distanced enough, so we wear masks at all times.

Students start trickling in through the door, so I point out the seating chart so they find their right chairs. Some students sit down without consulting the seating chart, so I need to explain to those students we have a seating chart. On the computer, my Zoom students start to fill up in the waiting room. I message them, letting them know that they need to keep their video on during class. If last week’s introductory session is any indication, at least one will not. Then I let them in.

Teaching is a challenge, because two-thirds of my class sit in desks in front of me watching the screen, which is the Zoom display with a shared document as the current focus — a PowerPoint screen, a document, etc. One-third of my class views remotely using Zoom. It’s hard teaching to both these classes, and I spend too much of my time yelling “Can you hear me?” to the Zoom people, who are silent and not sharing in class work. It’s insanely hard for me to pay attention to two different classrooms at the same time.

After an unsatisfying class period where I feel I have done twice the work with half the results, I wipe down all the seats and tables with disinfectant, and I wait till the next class shows up and do it all over again.

Complexities in my writing.

I’m slowly getting through my work in progress. And I mean slowly.

Given it’s a revision from a previous version, I have pieces I can put in there and revise, but then there’s all the romance parts to put in and then there’s the flow and …

This book is less fun and more work. Just plain work.

I don’t understand why I keep putting it down. It seems like a simple story. It’s a love story of two people with unusual gifts and a destiny they’re not aware of. And an antagonist who seems like they’re involved in mundane affairs but is trying to keep them from their destiny. Ok, so maybe it’s not so simple. I think there are four or five plots running here:

Jeanne and Josh fall in love
Jeanne and Josh face their destiny despite obstacles:

Jeanne tries to get full professorship despite opposition
Jeanne and Josh explore Jeanne’s talent
Jeanne’s talent gets exposed at Barn Swallows’ Dance
Battle with opposition

Jeanne’s development
Josh’s development

Ok, The subplots make it difficult, but they’re needed because the situation changes from the first to the second half of the book. The

protagonists think everything will be okay once Jeanne gets full professorship, and then they find out that’s just the beginning. And they explore Jeanne’s talent, but they don’t discover the talent is the reason for the persecution until Barn Swallows’ Dance. All this for a romance novel.

Yes, other than the Kringle novels, my writing is pretty complex. I forgot how complex. AAArgh.

Layers of story

Sunday. Coffee and classical time. We’re listening to Max Richter, because I have the control of the music. Otherwise the Sunday classical would be Mozart or Beethoven. I am the more exploratory of the two of us, but I’ve actually gotten Richard to tolerate Philip Glass.

I want to write today. I need some earth-shaking ideas to motivate me. Right now, I’m plowing through potential plot difficulties that require some research and thought. I want to be thinking more fancifully; I feel that’s what I’m missing lately in the book. I’m frustrated with this book, because it’s like the inspiration and development is coming in layers, and I keep having to go back and review and add.

I thought the romance rewrite of this book was going to be so easy! Gaia’s Hands proves again to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever written and there’s no reason for it to be so.

Once again, writers’ block

I’m making progress on Gaia’s Hands, BUT. I just got to the second half, and inspiration is not sitting over my shoulder and whispering ideas in my ear. I am currently in search of a muse, because I bid the last one farewell (it was time).

I know why the block is happening. I’m writing a romance novel, and this is the part of the book where everything goes south and … I have trouble writing breakups, even if I assure myself they’ll get together three chapters later (there’s actually a formula for romance novels. But there is also a formula for all good novels, supposedly. Google “Save the Cat” for details).

It’s the weekend, and I’m alone most of the day, so I want to write. I’ll set a modest goal — 1000 words and/or at least 2 hours editing a day. I think I’ll need to lay down some backbone notes to get this going.

Wish me luck.

The Death of Snow Days

Once upon a time, not that long ago (pardon me the cheesy intro, but it’s that kind of topic) there were snow days. Snow days existed so that students, teachers, and staff didn’t have to venture out into a blizzard or major snowstorm to get to classes. However, snow days became a random winter treat to students (and teachers) .

Snow days gathered their own folklore. Everyone believed that their school had fewer snow days than any of the surrounding schools. Winter weather was counted in number of snow days.

Students treated this as a day apart from routine, to celebrate the novelty, and to watch tv or play indoor games. Teachers as well took it as a welcome release from routine, a day for a late breakfast and time to catch up at home.

COVID, it seems, has killed the snow day.

The same technologies that have brought us synchronous distance learning (i.e. teaching/learning in a classroom remotely using Zoom or other conferencing software) have taken away our snow days. Why? Because the teacher can teach at home, the students can learn at home, and nobody need venture out in the snow.

This morning, Maryville MO is in blizzard conditions. Only 4-5 inches of snow, but it’s blowing pretty hard. And instead of a snow day, we were instructed to teach from home. And thus the snow day ends, a victim of technology and the perpetual need to be productive, which snow days gave us a welcome break from.