Tired.

February 16, 2020

I decided to do an event, the Cumberland Library Author Expo. It was only from 1-4.

I was rusty. I couldn’t seem to get into telling people about my books. After the third person, though, I fell into the routine. Plus a fan showed up! (But she already had all my books.)

I realized, too, that I was tired after just four hours. How would I be after ten? RI ComiCon is on the docket, and I really want to do that because I think it would be a good sales opportunity for all the books that Paper Angel Press and Water Dragon Publishing have, not just my own.

Mind you, it was after dialysis, so I was probably tired from that. For ComiCon, I would have dialysis on Thursday and Friday, not on Saturday or Sunday. Setting up would be Thursday; Friday night I’m there from 3-9, Saturday 10-9, Sunday 10-3. It sounds grueling, but I’ll have my son with me helping me out. I might ask my friend and pay her some money to come help me, too.

I might also do Autumfest, but not if i have to set up the tent. I’ll be happy to share with someone else.

It helps if I pay my dues to the Association of Rhode Island Authors, though.

My life, in three words

February 9, 2020

Dialysis: My life revolves around the needle and the machine. Three days a week, first thing the morning, I get stuck with two needles. One has my blood going in, one has my blood coming out. And for four hours I sit, sometimes napping, most times staring out into space, sometimes reading, sometimes listening to music or podcasts. Four hours I wait, watching the clock like Fred Flintstone, while the machine filters the toxins out of my blood. Then a half an hour both to stick me and to disconnect me. Half an hour to and from the place. Six hours, three days a week.

Work: Three other days a week, I work for ten hour days. Luckily, it’s not a totally stressful job, where I have to take it home on the days I don’t work. I moved my office to the third floor because the cellar was freezing in the winter (50 degrees, and no heat). Good thing about it, I now have heat. The bad thing? (Or maybe it’s a good thing,) I can’t snack as much as I used to because the kitchen is in the basement/cellar, and my office had been right off the kitchen, in a refurbished “pantry”. After last year’s Purge cleared out the pantry, I had more room for the computer and papers and a chair. But it was cold, even with a space heater.

Sleep: The final day of the week, Sunday, is a day of rest. And I mean rest. I’ve timed that I can sleep for 12 hours. If I sleep after seven a.m. on Sunday, I’m up until at least nine p.m. Sunday night, when my usual bed time is around six or seven p.m. Then I’m up at 4:30 Monday morning to start it all over again.

This week is a little different, in that I have dialysis on Monday and Tuesday. Last Saturday I couldn’t have it because my access, the port where they plug in the needles, was clotted with blood. I have to go to a special out patient procedure to get the clot cleared out. Supposedly, according to the nurses at the dialysis center, they put a balloon in my graft to expand the area and get the clot to flow. But where does the clot go?

I have been worried sick about this. My OCD has kicked into overdrive when I’m wondering whether or not I’ll have a stroke or a blood clot to the brain. My blood clots well, sometimes too well; which I don’t understand since I have anemia.

Writing: I’m trying to write daily, but it’s been such a chore that I’m lucky if I can get a hundred words a day out. The story I’m writing is one that I’m interested in, but it’s testing my memory. It takes place in 1974 Providence, RI, during the height of the organized crime gangs in the area.

I’m wracking my brain about whether things existed in 1974. Remote controls? No. Lids on paper cups? They didn’t have that, or hot paper cups, either. Styrofoam. Aluminum can Budweiser? Nope, bottles. Recyclables? Are you kidding me? Smoking in bars? Yep. Drinking on the job? Yep. Weed, meth, heroin? Yep, yep, yep (though meth wasn’t what it is now–it was speed, then).

My goal is to get it done by the end of the summer, so that it’s available for RI Comicon (Yes, we’re going this year, November 6-8.). There will be no magic involved in the story, which means I have to make my protagonist very crafty. He will be. He has a lot of secrets to hide.

Resolved: More Cowbell

December 25, 2019

I need to get cracking on writing some stories. I’m involved with a writers’ group now and I have no excuse.

Well, I do. I have no ideas.

But that’s an excuse, not a reason. Being tired is an excuse. Having no time is an excuse. I can’t let that stop me.

I’m thinking of getting back to 800 words; if not daily, then at least three times a week. Maybe on my dialysis days.

My goal is to get a novel out next year. Since Nano was a bust, I have to start with something different. There’s a big market for romance still, but I have such a hard time getting into ti. YA is still a big thing.

What to write, what to write. A whole different genre? Something that brings some order into my chaotic life?

Writing prompts, ahoy.

NaNo, lost.

December 3, 2019

By week three, I had lost all interest in The Band Singer, mostly because I was exhausted. On Thanksgiving week, I had planned to wrap it up at least. I couldn’t even get the gumption to go online to a Google Hangout Virtual Write-In. I was in my big comfy chair or in bed most of the weekend, dozing on and off.

Heck, I didn’t even do the podcast. Next week, promise.

Now I’m ready to put that novel aside and start something new. But what? And this time I’m going to plan it out a little more, but not the end. That’s what killed it for me last time. Seeing the end on-screen, even if it was just a blurb, solidified it for me, saying “You’ve written the story.”

I’m going to wait to see where my next idea shows up from. I want to branch out from the Urban Fantasy/Magical Detective genre. But I love mysteries, going way back (Scooby-Doo, anyone?). Though it’s something I like to read, I want to put a different spin on it. I’ve read some real trash in the Urban Fantasy field recently, so I know what I don’t like.

Maybe another Grim story?

NaNo, Week Blah

November 24, 2019

24,000 words of blech. Note to Self: don’t write the end first. That’s the main reason I’m bored with this story–I not only know the end, but I wrote it out already.

I’ve gotten the action, and now I need to do the build-up to make the character famous. But it’s so unrealistic how I’m going to do it, and there’s so much time between when that happens and where I’m at, that I don’t know what to do. I’m tempted to just jump to the sections that I know will happen, even if they’re days, weeks, months ahead in the timeline for the story. If I do that, the story will be much less than 50K words. However, also, if I do that, it will at least be finished.

Not to mention that dialysis is a bear and I sleep for almost 12 hours a night because of it.

Next weekend I’m being held accountable by doing writing for NaNo at a virtual write-in. I’ll be there about 8 pm Eastern (past my bedtime) on Thursday, Friday and Saturday.