Category: Ask Me Anything

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it feels good

There is something about a quiet office in the very early morning when you’re the only one there that is very nice.  I needed to get in early to make up for completely missing yesterday.

I’m dealing with some terrible side affects from a new medication increase, and that on top of the migraine I woke up with made for a really bad day yesterday.  Today, however, is a brand new day.

To help start the day out on the right foot, I popped into McDonalds as I got off the train, and bought a sack full of breakfast sandwiches, which I handed out as I walked the half mile to work. I ran out just as I reached my building.

I can look out these office windows, where I am privileged to work a  good job and see those who are struggling just to stay alive.  It feels good to be able to do something, no matter how small, to help.  No matter how my day is going, it is improved by taking a little time to share a meal with someone or offer them a smile.

I mean, it isn’t monumental.  It doesn’t solve the problem of poverty or homelessness. But for one brief moment there is a human connection, a kindness, something shared.  And it feels good.

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happy June

I know it’s cliche to say something about how fast the year is moving, but seriously, how is it June?  Granted I lost a few weeks there with dealing with my step-father’s death and the chaos that surrounds an unexpected end, but still!

For me, June is a crazy busy month.  The kind that makes agoraphobics like me more than a little anxious.  This is my only quiet weekend, and I hope to get some writing done, but I also have a bunch of stuff to finish for my first Pride training next weekend, and final orders for equipment to finish.

Yesterday as I was digging through some files on my cloud drive, files with such descriptive names as “story” and “story 2,” I came across a story I’d forgotten I’d started.  It’s a fantasy and I love the characters in it.  I may have to go back to work on that!

Anyway, here it is Saturday, and I have a house to clean, groceries to buy, Pride work to do, etc.  How about you? What’s your Saturday looking like, Readers?

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#amediting

I am knee deep into editing an anthology of awesome stories told by amazing female writers.  It’s a wonderful assortment that spans sci-fi, fantasy and horror and in some cases mixes them together.

It’s always interesting to me how individual writers interpret a prompt or theme.  The theme here is all about rebellion and ghosts, about fighting for what you believe in, winning, losing, the things we sacrifice, willingly or not, along the way.

These ten or so stories tell tales of women in crisis, women in triumph, women in defeat and so much more.

I really can’t wait until I can share these with you!  Keep your eyes on this space!

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skewed and chronic

Hello, my name is Natalie, and I live with chronic pain.  To be fair, I live with several chronic conditions, and pain is only one of them.  Recently, I’ve come to realized how skewed my pool of friends, loved ones and associates is toward those who share this living situation.

I’ve only been in the job I currently have for just shy of two years.  It’s the first job in a while where a fair number of my coworkers are as much as twenty years younger than I am, which doesn’t necessarily protect them from chronic pain, it just makes it less likely to have encountered it.

Several times in the last week or so, a coworker has asked me if I was “all better now” and I wasn’t sure how to answer them.  I am definitely better than I was in October when I got sidelined by the flare up of a pinched nerve, or better than I was in January when I had a cold, a sinus infection, a chest infection, etc, which knocked my sugar out of whack.

One coworker said, “You haven’t complained about X in a while, so you must not be in pain anymore.”

I laughed (you know, that laugh of the “have you met me?” variety) and joked that if I were ever not in some pain, I would assume I was dead.  He was baffled and horrified.  I tried to explain that my lower back, my knee, my wrists, elbows and shoulders, and my neck where all victims of various chronic conditions, which meant they would be calm for a while, but then something would cause them to flare up…that they were never gone, and that at any given moment, I am in pain somewhere.  That my normal status is this certain level of pain, which I can tolerate and function with.

He made this face, the kind people make when you tell them you’re ill.  I see it a lot.  But the thing is, they don’t comprehend that I’m not complaining, I’m not upset…I’m not asking for sympathy and I don’t need them to do anything.

I get it from others too.  This weird look, like a scared sympathetic, please god not me sort of thing that irritates me.  And even when I explain what these chronic conditions mean, that they will never be gone, the next time I come in limping because my lower back has decided to send an invading nerve impulse through my hip and into my leg, or I’m favoring my right arm, or what have you, they will act all surprised again and want to know what I’ve done to injure myself now.

But, you know what?  For all my aches and pains, I am a pretty happy person and I have a pretty amazing life.  I certainly wouldn’t trade any of my experiences for anything.  And now, it’s time for a second cup of coffee and to get this work day on it’s feet.

Happy Wednesday, Readers!

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a little pampering

I am not now, nor have I ever been what I would consider a “girly girl.” The one feature I’ve always allowed myself to be girly over is my hair, and even then, most of the time I just wear it up or braided and out of my way.

Every now and again though, I get this craving for getting my nails done and having someone other than me color my hair, and maybe doing more with my hair than just coloring it.

I’m in the middle of one of those times.

Last night I painted my nails, mostly as a way to satisfy the need without spending the time and money on going to a nail salon and getting tips and all that, which I always end up regretting.

On Thursday, I have an appointment with a new to me hair salon and a new to me hair person.  I need to have a couple inches hacked off and I need someone else to manage my color for a while.  We’ll see how long it lasts.

I haven’t decided what to do with the color yet, and I’m hoping this new to me hair person will help me decide.  Part of me wants to keep the green, part of me wants to go back to red.  Part of me wants to try something completely new!

Now all I need is to find a massage therapist and my pampering will be complete.

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when the wall comes down

Have you ever sat yourself down to write something, but the words just don’t come?  I think most writers have done battle with the brick wall that is writer’s block, and we all have our own ways of trying to break through.

I’ve been pretty fortunate in my life to almost always have several diverse projects going that I can switch gears and write something different to allow the blockage to clear.  I also have other artistic endeavors that help me get the fires going again.

When I was younger, I didn’t realize that not everyone has endless voices in their head telling them stories, not everyone could spin a tale out of a handful of facts, not everyone could never be lonely because of the cast of thousands in their head.  The very notion of writer’s block made no sense to me.  The words never stopped.  They sometimes were telling stories that I wasn’t actually trying to write, but then those were usually the best ones in the end.

Where I hit the wall though is when I have a specific topic that I need to write for, and a deadline, particularly if I’m dragging myself out of an engaging fiction to do it.  I found writer’s block when it came to essays and school papers and the like.

Sometimes you just have to soldier through it, squeeze out the words, even if they’re crap.  I usually find when I do that, that the edit and clean up is actually easier than the writing.  Then I usually reward myself with writing something fun.

Sometimes I wonder about those people who don’t have a bunch of voices in their head telling them stories…it must be a lonely existence, all alone in that head.

I think I’d go mad.

 

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imposter syndrome

Do you know what imposter syndrome is?  I don’t know a single creative who isn’t plagued by it at some point in their career, if not through their whole career. I am no different.

It usually hits about now, when I have submitted a book to an editor and I’m waiting for the return.  There’s this voice in the back of my head that starts whispering that this is it, this is the moment when everyone finds out that I’m a hack, that I can’t write my way out of a paper bag, my plots recycled, my characters flat.

This is it.  This is where it all ends.

Of course, it doesn’t actually end here.  In a week or so I’ll get my edits back with things I need to fix and notes on character or plot, along with notes of cheerleading from my editor and lots of exclamation marks around how much she loved it.

That will placate the voices for a while, until I’m ready to turn it in for publishing.  Then it all comes flooding back and it can be crippling.  This is when that voice accusing me of being an imposter is joined by all of those voices that show me the lack of external validation…”You can’t even get reviews on the first two, what makes you think anyone wants to read your drivel?”

Is it any wonder that creatives are such fragile creatures sometimes?

Lest you think that it’s just in my creative writing I suffer this madness, know that just this month I received a raise in my day job that puts me at a level I’ve never expected to reach, and still, at least twice a week I’m struck with absolute terror that they’re going to realize I’m just posing, that I don’t know what I’m doing (despite the evidence to the contrary) and put me out on the street.

The only cure I know is to just keep going, which is why I’m eight pages into the seventh chapter of my next book.  It feels good to be writing a new story in a new world and a different style.

Take that, voices.

 

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let’s talk agoraphobia

Happy Friday, Readers!  It’s a wet, wet day here in San Francisco, but I’m safely in the office and the coffee is hot!

I thought I’d take a minute today and talk about one of the “issues” I battle everyday.  See, I’m an agoraphobic.  Taken literally, the translation from the greek means “fear of the marketplace” but since the world has evolved, so has this monster.

Agoraphobia can be seen as a spectrum of sorts, and people with agoraphobia can have intense fear, anxiety and even panic that keeps them from living their life the way they want to.

At its worst, agoraphobia can make a person housebound, unable to leave the safety of their home because of the fear.  Some are unable to move outside a specified “safety zone” without someone there to help them.

Psychology Today has a good article here.

Thankfully, mine is not that bad, though having people with me who know how to spot my panic attacks starting and how to help me through them is a blessing. I still manage to get my own groceries, I go to work (most days), and I travel.

But, every one of these things can induce anything from minor anxiety to heart stopping panic.  There are days I won’t even open my front door.  Days where just going to get the mail is a major achievement.  There are days when I think nothing of getting in the car and heading out into the unknown though too.

Like any other chronic condition, it is a constant part of who I am, but its severity and my ability to fight it change all the time, and because I also live with chronic pain, it can also affect and be affected by the levels of pain I am in.

On bad pain days, I spend all my energy battling pain, and I have nothing left to fight the phobia, so I generally stay within my safety space.  On days when the phobia is running high and I know I have to go out into the world anyway, there’s seldom anything left to manage my pain.

It can be a vicious circle.

I’ve come to terms with this being a part of who I am, and I have mental coping mechanisms that help me handle crowds, unknown spaces, etc.  Crowds are hard. Crowds require days of mental prep and days of hibernating after.  Sometimes they require pharmaceutical help.  I take a very low dose of Xanax when needed.

Yet, I go to concerts and conventions and conferences.  I get on trains that I know are going to be standing room only long before I get home.  It’s terrifying and it’s exhausting and if you asked most people around me they’d tell you that they had no idea I was terrified because I’ve learned to hide it.

Why?  Because I’m a stubborn bitch that refuses to let my misfiring brain keep me from things and people I love.  At least, not all the time.  Maybe someday, when I’m a doddering eighty year old writer with a library of books in my quiver, I can become a recluse, and eccentric cat lady who never goes out and never lets anyone in, other than my young, gorgeous assistant/nurse who makes sure I eat and take my meds.

So today, I won the battle, despite the rain and the messy commute and the people.  I’m at my desk and now my cup of coffee is empty, so it’s time to go search for more.

May your weekend be amazing!

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the path to perfection

I’m a writer.  Left to my own devices, I would probably never stop fiddling with a story.  I still find places in things I wrote twenty years ago that I’d change, fix, re-write, update, flesh out….you get the idea.

So there comes a point in every manuscript where I have to make myself take my hands off it and send it to my editor.  I’ve reached that point with Where Shadows Fall.

Later today I will be sending it off to my hard working editor who will correct all of my typos, point out the places where I don’t tie things together, ask me what was I thinking here, give me comments on characters and characterization and give me feedback on what’s missing, what needs more fleshing out and how to fill up that plot hole I didn’t even see.

When I get it back from her, I’ll be a step closer to ready to submit to my publisher.  Before submission, however, it’s my turn to use what she gives me to make the story shine.

Finishing this book is a milestone.  It ends the story begun in Through Shade and Shadow,  and closes off a chapter in my writing life.  There are so many stories bursting inside my head and I can’t wait to see where they take me next!

Now, to a cup of coffee and the day job.  Happy Wednesday, Readers!!

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how about a sale?

Today and tomorrow only, my first book, Forever is on sale for your Kindle pleasure.  Just 99 cents gets you a gothic tale of a girl born into a family of vampires, and her life as she grew to understand her differences, sought her freedom, loved, lost and more.

“I am comfortable in the dark, when the moon slumbers and clouds dim the stars and the smell of the earth rises in the still air.  Perhaps that still moment is the only place I am comfortable.   My years have been long and have seen me travel nearly all of this world, often alone.  I have given life and dealt death, but I offer no regret.  Regret is a waste of effort when justice brings the guilty no peace.  I will see justice in the end, I am certain of that, for all that I have done, and all I have not.”

If you haven’t gotten your copy yet, now is a grand time to do so.

Reviews say:

“Beautifully Written, Drenched in Blood…”

“Epic and engrossing”

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

So what are you waiting for?