NaNo Winner — almost.

I’m almost done with NaNo. 48,300 words as of this morning. 1700 words to go.

I can’t believe I made it. I haven’t written a novel in a year or two, choosing instead to edit the ones I already have. I’m writing a romance novel, and despite the fact that I’ve got a romance novel published (A shameless plug for The Kringle Conspiracy), I still feel like I don’t get romance novels.

And then there’s the pandemic and the election, and our current president acting like the supreme leader of a banana republic (which I suspect is unfair to banana republics everywhere), I felt stressed enough to quit a couple times. But I didn’t.

But it’s nearly done, and then I will edit and edit and mercilessly edit. There are things I want to add, and probably a couple places I want to condence. I think promising myself ten pages a day should help the process.

Ahh. I never thought I was going to finish this one!

More COVID in the Neighborhood

We’re having a worsening bout of COVID here in Missouri at the same time the state has loosened its restrictions on classrooms such that the classroom doesn’t have to quarantine if everyone wore masks. Kansas City has gone back to restrictions in public places, and it would be a good thing if Maryville, with its booming rates of transmission among the students, followed suit. At least we’ve renewed our mask ordinance till January.

Our students will be off campus for the last couple weeks of the semester and will take their finals online. I hope this reduces the contagion we’ve seen.

Planning for Spring semester, I will be teaching the way I did last Fall — through in-person and online at the same time. It’s hard to do this, and I don’t feel as effective a teacher as I have been. This whole year has been hard. But it’s been hard for everyone, and I don’t mean to gripe.

I guess I can’t wait till Winter Break.

Bad spells

I’m sitting here trying to remember back to my absolutely harrowing mood of a week or two ago and I can hardly do so.

My brain confounds me. My body confounds me. When I am in a bad state the two are one and the same — my stomach tightens up, my bowels loosen; I feel cold flow through my veins; my adrenaline ramps up and at the same time I cannot move. I cry, I shriek, I say nothing and the crushing horses’ hooves keep advancing.

What turns the tide back to normal, I don’t know. Was it the news? That good cry? The 12-hour sleep? The cognitive exercise? All and none of these? The passage of time? I don’t know, but if I did that would be my sacrament.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I remember my bad spells only vaguely. Maybe it preserves my self-esteem not remembering how helpless I felt, how utterly agonized.

Today, then, is a good day.

Major undertaking

We’re replacing the tuner for our stereo system today. It’s only 15+ years old, but it’s hardly top of the line, and it’s started making unpleasant buzzing and popping sounds. Cue in Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” — “DEE dee dee ZZZZRRRRRPPPZZZZZT”

We bought its (used but newer) replacement through Facebook Marketplace the other day for $100, so today we’re going to install it.

I got Richard at the right moment to agree to install it. Otherwise it could have sat on the couch for weeks. We have a habit around the house of getting a new gadget and letting it sit. And sit. There are so many life-changing gadgets in this house that are not, in fact, changing my life. The air fryer is not frying, nor is the instant pot potting. So I really want the tuner tuning.

The replacement of the tuner requires more work than I had apparently considered. I just labeled a bunch of wires ‘front center’, ‘front right’, ‘front left’, ‘right surround’, ‘left surround’, ‘active subwoofer’, ‘passive subwoofer’, and ‘passive-aggressive subwoofer’. The latter is probably the one making ominous popping noises.

My task in all this is to label things and stand back, because this is RICHARD’S STEREO. And I’m fine with this, because my concept of a fancy stereo is one of those all-in-one bricks that Wal-Mart sells, the one with the two breadbox-sized speakers and nothing that looks like a subwoofer.

The old tuner is out, and I am eternally grateful Richard’s taking care of this project because there are entirely too many inputs for my comfort.

For some reason I’m really hungry for a plate of barbecue, Kansas City style. I have no reason why.

Now What?

I’ve accomplished everything I wanted to accomplish and experienced everything I needed to experience by self-publishing the book.

I wanted to have a “book-signing” party. I wanted a listing on Amazon. I wanted to sign books, even if it was just among my friends. These are all shallow goals vs making big sales, but I’m pretty sure that Amazon is so glutted that making sales is a pipe dream anyhow.

If I’d have known it was this easy to settle that howling need, I’d have done this sooner.

What are my stretch goals? I don’t know right now. I’ve been too busy with writing for NaNo and grading to think about it. It’s going to be something about advertising, though. I need to make that into a SMART (specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, time-bound) goal.

2323232323232323232323232323232348eu4444444444e (I’m leaving the above typo here, as my kitten Chloe had something to say).

Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th. It’s a good thing I’m not superstitious.

Or maybe I am. I throw salt over my left shoulder when I spill it. I don’t walk under ladders — though there’s a good reason there; walking under them tends to upset them.

I don’t open umbrellas in the house, mostly because my mother gently told me that open umbrellas in the house were bad luck. I instead go through an awkward dance of opening the umbrella while it’s sticking out the door and I’m still inside.

I don’t break mirrors. Who does? They’re a silvery bitch of a mess to clean up.

Black cats are welcome in my house. In fact, I have one. I sometimes consider her bad luck, especially when she accidently trips me.

I whistle indoors, but very poorly, so I may only be summoning mediocre luck instead of bad.

Truly, though, I don’t think any of this makes a difference on Friday the 13th. We are all victims of confirmation bias on this day, infusing the random occurrence as bad luck in solidarity with the millions of others who do the same. Strangely, I don’t hear people blaming a dire event on Friday the 13th

The superstition behind Friday the 13th, in my opinion, a mass celebration of the stupid little things that happen to us. And that, with a little superstition, I can get behind.

emerging

I don’t know how many of you are out there, nor do I know most of your names, but know I appreciate you. I think I’m crawling out of my prickly stress coccoon, which I picture as being something like a datura shell I curl inside of, hoping for peace.

The truth is probably not as dire as I paint it, and eventually Trump will leave office. The country will start to recover despite a deadlock in the government because thank Goodness there are things like executive orders and Trump set the precedent of using them right and left. The vaccine for Corona may be ready by mid 2021, and we will be able to hug again.

I’m writing. I’m still writing, breaking a NaNo streak of failing every even year since the 2016 election. That’s only two NaNos worth of failure, but I was pretty steady before then. I think I remember what I like about writing, and I think I’ll be able to continue it.

I also remember that I may have to put the big books, the fantasy books, out there again to traditional publishers. If I get my self-promotion game going, I may be able to put them out using that route.

I feel like I’m coming back to myself, someone who does better at doing than being. Thank you for listening.

The Best I Can Right Now

Note on caption — I have not had COVID yet, so much of this diagram is not in play. But the lockdown and psychosocial stress is real. Also, WHAT DOES THIS DIAGRAM EVEN MEAN?!

I’m really sorry I haven’t been talking to you for a while. I’m in a rough place right now, and I don’t want it to get rougher, so I’m focusing on what’s necessary until my brain can catch up with what’s extra.

This is a part of my life. My moods can go smoothly until I hit a patch of extreme stress (COVID rates rising plus the presidential election and its batshit crazy aftermath) and then my sleep goes off, my mind is a fog, and my emotions are all over the place.

It takes me a bit to recover. Usually I manage it without a tweak to my medication, and usually I don’t go into the hospital to manage it. I know what to do to keep myself functional — go to work even if my mind doesn’t think it can, get the important things done, go home to rest. Make sure I’m not avoiding emails. Take bubble baths, do cognitive exercises, not fault myself for not promoting the book.

I will get through this. I always have. But if you’re not seeing as much from me as you have, understand that I am doing the best I can.

Thoughts on the election from a disillusioned American.

I haven’t written in a few days. As the world knows at this point, Biden is projected to win the election, which is to say that there are dribbles of votes to be counted which look like they’re going to be predominantly toward Biden. Yet I don’t feel hope.

There is an ugliness in this country. We saw it when Obama won the election, and we see it now that Trump has lost. For that matter, we saw it when Trump won. A leering mass of exhibitionistic radicalism calling itself conservatism.

It doesn’t seem that radical to me to believe that people of color should not have to face institutionalized racism, and that structures built to favor whites should favor no race in particular. It doesn’t seem that radical to me that all people be allowed dignity.

I don’t see European countries as hopeless hotbeds of Marxist-style communism. I consider them, and us, to be the center: noone should starve. The homeless should be homed. Noone should die of an illness that could easily be treated. If the poor had options to gaming the system, they would likely take them.

There’s a 2% or so of people who would game the system, but we see them at the highest echelons of the social class scale as well, and we allow the richest their plunder as if it were admirable.

I don’t know if I believe in the inherent greatness of the US anymore. The spew of obscenities spilling from the mouths of the most virulent MAGAs does not mark a great country.

I can’t believe I haven’t written in a couple days. It’s been terribly busy:

My virtual book signing party went off very well on Sunday, despite my jitters. About seven people showed up, but that was a fine number to interact with and about the number I expected to show up if I went live.
I started NaNoWriMo, and I’m struggling because I haven’t written a book for a while, trying instead to edit what I already have. It’s time to write, and this book is going slow.
It’s been a bit of a challenge to find time to write because of the fact that it’s a crucial project time for my students.

In addition, I have a sense of existential dread over the (US) elections. I’m not by any means alone.

So I’ll do my writing to the best of my ability over the next several days, meditate, take deep breaths, teach my classes, and pray for the best and most compassionate outcome.