Dusting off…again

I’ve dusted off, yet again, Hunter’s Realm, a story I wrote in 1990. Yes, it’s 35 years old.

It’s over 150,000 words. I’m putting it through The Wringer (not its real name), a novel revising course I bought in 2017 and paid a lifetime membership for. The website has since disappeared. Luckily I printed and downloaded everything.
Anyway, this weekly course is nothing if not thorough. I’ve used it for three novels now, and it’s helpful–only if I would have finished it. I’ve gotten as far as lesson 12 out of 24. Trust me, it takes a lot of time and effort. And space.

Hunter’s Realm is a modern fantasy. Imagine if the SCA had received a grant for most of the state of Maine in the 1940’s. Just imagine it. I know it’s impossible.. It takes place in 2000, before cell phones and swiping credit cards yourself.
The State of Maine has been trying to get back the land, and this year is enlisting the federal government to do it. The people who live there don’t want to join up with the US, so are fighting for their autonomy. Long story short, a young woman comes to their annual Renaissance Faire and she’s drawn into the myths and laws of the land.
Magic is in this land. So is old-fashioned chivalry and weaponry. Fiefdoms and lords and honor. Protectors of the land. Brigands.

The whole book is a wreck. Of course it is, since I wrote it right out of college. I was angsty I hated people. I didn’t have a love life. I read it now, and it throws me back to that time, where I’m thinking, “Whatever was I thinking?” Future me is sad over past me.
But I can fix it. If I pull out the details that are broken, I can totally fix it! The idea is still good.

I have released Grimaulkin and Brent into the world, along with other angsty poetry and a guide to magic for writers. So, as far as I’m concerned, they’re all set. I pull Grim out every once in a while and play with him, but he’s established–married with kids and a good, stable job.
Mo and Taurin are still in my mind. Their conflicting natures, and eventual coming together; the conflict of the story; and the anger of the people over “Flatlanders” .taking over their land and world.

Lesson one is trying to decide what the story I meant to tell was supposed to be. I’ve read the first five chapters before putting it through The Wringer and deciding I need help because it’s such a wreck. I’m skipping through a lot of it until I get to chapter five. A lot of it is impossible, terribly written, and it so needs editing. We’ll see how long it takes me to get through it.

Rehab, Back Surgery, Rehab

In April, I went into rehab because I fell three times in one day.

In May 2025, I had three emergency back surgeries. It was agony.

I went into rehab at a nursing home. One place for four months, and they tried to kill me three times. First time was I had an infection in my bones after they removed my drain. I bled everywhere and had pus coming out of my wounds. “Oh, you’re doing fine,” they said, and finally the NP sent me to the hospital.

Second time I was thrown out of bed. Third time, I couldn’t breathe and asked to go to the hospital from Friday to Sunday morning. Finally they sent me. Come to find out, I had the flu and pneumonia.

No, I was not going back there. I picked a different one, but it was part of the larger corporation. So it’s not like I got a new one. But this place had dialysis in house, so I didn’t have to get treated like an Amazon package in the back of an ambulance.

At the first nursing home I was bedridden for two months. I forced myself to get up and in the wheelchair on my own. They were mad at me, but I wanted to go home. When I got to the second nursing home, I told them I was not a hoyer lift, and I used the walker and wheelchair to get around. Wheelchairs are so convenient. I decided to get one for home.

Anyway, I got home September 16. I lost so much weight that my clothes hang off me. My son didn’t do any cleaning, so I walked in just as I left it. Everything was frozen in time, April 11, 2025.

Now I’m home. I can barely walk, but I don’t care. I can’t get up the stairs without help. My son has to pick me up the stairs (good thing I lost weight, huh?). I have to walk through paths in my cluttered home. I gave up impressing people: PT, OT, nurses of all kinds come into my house now.

I’m back to editing and working for The Publisher a couple of hours a day, in between visitations. And you know what? No one from my family came to visit or call me, except my father, who drove up all the way from Florida. They’re not allowed at my funeral or the luncheon afterward. I will not forget or forgive.

I’ll try and update this a little more often. Not that anyone is listening.

This is not where I go for writing anymore

It’s pretty sad. I haven’t written a story in 2 years. Since doing work for The Publisher, all my creative abilities have gone to editing, graphic design, producing newsletters, and creative social media.

It’s not like I don’t have time. Ten hours a week for The Publisher, eighteen hours a week for dialysis, maybe another five or six hours a week for doctor’s visits. I just don’t have the gumption.

I started playing on CoH again, but on the gamer’s servers. Indomitable is good solo. Everlasting is good for RP and teams. Excelsior is for the hard core farmers and gamers.

Maybe I’ll get inspired there again. I’m not looking for it.

Mounjaro kicks ass

OMG. For two weeks, I was sick as a dog. All because of this fantastic new diabetes/weight loss medication. From Thursday to Sunday: vomiting, sick stomach, headaches, and all around weakness and fatigue. Thank goodness I don’t have to work a day job.

I’m seeing the endocrinologist tomorrow and I think I will ask for a lesser dose. I’m on 15 now. I can go down to 12.5 and work with that. But the good news is that I have only 4.4 lbs to go before I get on the transplant list! Left dialysis yesterday at 102. If I wasn’t so sick, I would have celebrated.

I’m afraid, though. What if I get a transplant? Then I have to look for a job. At 59 years old. No one will hire me except as a Wal-mart greeter or a bagger at Stop and Shop. I could try and freelance my editing credentials. Or social media. I think I’d love to do that.

I feel much better today after a restless sleep and I just had half an Eggo waffle. The nutritionist and nurses at dialysis gave me pointers on how to eat with it. Basically, half of what I used to eat, maybe even less; and stop eating to see if that satisfies me. That’s so tough. But from now on, no dinner meals (maybe small stuff) on Thursday and Friday because I take Mounjaro on Wednesday, and it obviously doesn’t kick in until the next day.

Now, then. As for writing? I started preparing some characters for a fantasy novel, and that’s as far as I got. I have a lot of copywriting work to do for Paper Angel and Water Dragon. We have three months to get caught up before submissions open up again. I have to do time-management organization for December today. And get caught up!

800 words, and other new things

My right hand can’t hold a pen.

Seriously, I drop them all the time. I drop a lot of things. I have to use two hands to hold a mug or cup. It’s diabetic neuropathy. I can type better than I can write. So my hand-written journal will have more personal things.

I’m going to go back to 800 Words, mostly as my journal/diary. Nobody will read it anyway.

Medium is my newest place that I go for writing advice and news. Bookbub gives me new Kindle books every day. Twitter is a dumpster fire that I enjoy watching.

I already voted. So the next nine days are just noise.