... dropping in between writing JavaScript code for class and eating dinner - and then, hopefully, getting some wordage in today! ...
So, yesterday, the first day of NaNo, wasn't too good for me. Long story short, I only wrote 267 words :( NOT a great start to the month! But, I have planned the first 2 scenes in my story and have high hopes!
More NaNo news, quick excerpts, and most likely some Liquid Story Binder vs. Scrivener for Windows comparisons to come!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
NaNo Checklist
There are only 7 hours left until the beginning of NaNoWriMo! In preparation, I've been getting my writing space ready. The following preparations have been made today. And, I must say, I've been slowly getting ready so I did not wait until the last minute. Yet I still felt rushed. Regardless:
Luckily for me, my awesome writing buddy and Beta reader, Mandy, and I are going to work on plots for both our novels - right after we scour the Internet for images of our characters. This could take a while :)
- vacuumed carpet in my office
- finished cleaning my desk area
- put in 3 new light bulbs so I don't feel like a shut-in
- made a series of Do Not Disturb signs and door hangers - Genius in Progress, If You're Not in My Novel, Don't Bother!, and a simple Not Now, I'm Writing!
- bought writing gloves - yes, gloves for writing; my carpal tunnel braces are too awkward so I like to wear compression sleeves to help with swelling and pain from all that typing. I needed new ones, so this year I am trying actual winter elbow-length fingerless gloves. We'll see how it works. When not at the desk, the braces will definitely be on!
- found a comfy pillow to pad my cheap leather chair - sadly, I had to throw out my awesome orange/multicolored one with words like Create, Dream, Imagine, etc. on it.
- In lieu of my inspiring pillow, I PhotoShopped a desktop wallpaper (though in hindsight, I won't be seeing it much because I'll be writing).
- made a basic playlist for this novel, which I'm sure I'll add to as the month progresses
- Got my No Plot? No Problem! book and writing kit set out
- charged up two sets of rechargeable batteries for my mouse
- learned the basics of Scrivener, though I'm not sure if I want to try it or still use Liquid Story Binder like I do for everything else
- panicked :)
Luckily for me, my awesome writing buddy and Beta reader, Mandy, and I are going to work on plots for both our novels - right after we scour the Internet for images of our characters. This could take a while :)
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| My funky wallpaper for my desktop. For my Netbook, it's a word count calendar I found on a NaNo forum. |
Friday, October 29, 2010
Countdown to NaNo
Only two whole days left until NaNo 2010. I will try to be more diligent about posting excerpts than I was last time. Actually, I don't think there are any Providence excerpts from last year... And since this year's novel, Haven is a sequel to Providence, how about an excerpt now?
...More thoughts on Haven, plotting, Providence, and revising to come!
I stuff the purple sweatshirt into the top box, the one marked “winter,” and wipe a tear from my cheekbone. Damnit, Damien, he could always reduce me to tears.
A movement from across the room catches my eye and I blink and look away. I definitely don't want to see him in his early-morning glory, his plaid boxers hanging loose from trim hips and his brown hair sloppy and sexy.
“What are you doing up?” he asks, his voice husky with sleep.
“Packing.” As if he can't tell.
“It's six A.M.” He runs a hand through his hair and squints his eyes.
“The sooner I start, the sooner I can finish,” I retort, throwing a brown cardigan over the purple sweater.
“I'll help, babe.” he says, his voice soothing.
I turn and glare at him, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. “You've helped enough, don't you think?”
He doesn't even have the decency to blush. “I'm sorry, Quinn. You know I love--”
I put my hand up, palm facing him, and cringe. “If you loved me, I wouldn't have found her in our bed, would I have?”
Damien takes a few steps toward me, and the only sound I can hear is the rustle of his cotton boxers and the soft padding of his bare feet against the hardwood floor of our second-story apartment. “It was a mistake, Quinn. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Mistakes don't happen three nights in a row.” I turn my back to him and push the cardboard flap of the box down onto the clothes. “Mistakes don't scream your name over and over while I'm walking up the stairs, and you don't tell mistakes you wish you were marrying them instead of me.”
He nods, his lips pursed. He knows I'm right. Why bother trying to argue? “At least let me help.”
I shake my head. “I'm almost done.”
“Where are you going”?
I shrug my shoulders. “I don't know. But I'll call when I get there so you can send the rest of my stuff. Unless you changed your mind, and you want it all gone now.”
“Don't be silly, Quinn. You can't pack up four years in a day and fit it all in your little car.” He laughs like he just made a joke instead of a disconcerting statement about my life. “But really, Quinn. You're running out of money; I know you were thinking of finding a job after the wedding, if you couldn't get another book written soon.”
I ignore the jab at my career and look at the boxes before me. “I can finish the rest myself.”
“I'll make coffee,” he mutters, walking toward the open kitchen.
I watch him walk away, toward the countertop I painted last summer and the refrigerator covered with pictures of us. Four years of pictures, and not one memory that isn't painful. I wipe another tear from my face and scowl. “I'd rather do this alone”
He finishes the coffee in silence and retreats to the bedroom we've shared for three years. The door slams with a finality beyond my imagination. I guess it's finally over.
...More thoughts on Haven, plotting, Providence, and revising to come!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Letting creativity take over
I just had an epiphany.
Providence does not suck!
OK.. it still might. But not for the reason I was thinking.
Let me clarify that I immensely enjoyed writing the first 75% of Providence and when I reread it after a few months away, I loved it so much I started finishing it immediately.
But then I hit this bump. The same one that made me stop writing the first time. It was unconscious, really, because I just knew something was "off," but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.
And I finally figured it out.
See, I started writing this book for NaNoWriMo 2010, and I did so with a very limited idea of the book I wanted to write. This debate (the "plotters" vs. "pantsers") is a completely different story and will be saved for another time, as will the whole validity of the NaNo experience (suffice it to say, I am participating for my 3rd year this year, so my stance = Yay NaNo!). Anyhow. Initially, this was my premise:
Sounds pretty awesome, right? Even now, as I write that (off the top of my head), I'm thinking that would be a pretty interesting book to read! However, that's not the book I wrote. This is more like what I wrote (well, "am writing" since it's not 100% done yet):
You'll notice the novel I actually wrote took up more space, because when I started the novel, my ideas were very vague. Therein laid the problem. And when I realized Joss was becoming Mr. Rebound instead of Mr. Fate Sealer, I got scared. The novel wasn't going in the direction I wanted it to, at all. It was more casual, a lot less dark, and not at all creepy and fantasy-y. I sucked.
But alas, I don't suck! I simply didn't write the novel I set out to write. And I realized, just now, that that's OK. The novel I'm writing has its flaws, and will require at least one round of in-depth revision to work them out. But... I just have to adjust my mindset. Really, in the end, that's what this is about.
I think I was so set in Joss' ability and the dangers it could cause that I lost the bigger picture - the possibilities of a town full of supernatural people. Why are they supernatural? Don't know. Why are they drawn to Providence, or don't bother to leave their quaint haven? Don't care. Can Joss' power cause a lot of damage before he gets it under control? You betcha - but Damien's can cause even more. And that's the direction I'm going to take these last few chapters in. Joss' ability, and Quinn's emerging one, are still open to play with in the sequel. Which means that I may play around with my first idea more in the second book, because I've given myself room to do that.
The lesson I learned here was that ideas in creative writing need freedom to explore and to change and morph as they please. Backing them into a corner created by vague ideas of what the story SHOULD be about doesn't give your characters the room to fully develop. Could I have written the original version of Providence I set out to write on 11/1/09? Sure. Would it have been as good as the version I'm writing now - 'cause I do really like it. Probably not. It may have been good - hell, it may have been great. But it wouldn't have lived up to its potential. And now that I'm realizing that I haven't written a sucky book, my book just took on a life of its own, I think I can finish it and feel satisfied. And then start prepping for Providence 2... but leaving plenty of room for my ideas to change as I go!
Providence does not suck!
OK.. it still might. But not for the reason I was thinking.
Let me clarify that I immensely enjoyed writing the first 75% of Providence and when I reread it after a few months away, I loved it so much I started finishing it immediately.
But then I hit this bump. The same one that made me stop writing the first time. It was unconscious, really, because I just knew something was "off," but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.
And I finally figured it out.
See, I started writing this book for NaNoWriMo 2010, and I did so with a very limited idea of the book I wanted to write. This debate (the "plotters" vs. "pantsers") is a completely different story and will be saved for another time, as will the whole validity of the NaNo experience (suffice it to say, I am participating for my 3rd year this year, so my stance = Yay NaNo!). Anyhow. Initially, this was my premise:
When Quinn, a writer, heads South for sea-side inspiration for her next novel, she encounters a small town where strange things occur. In the town of Providence, Florida, Quinn meets Joss, a potential love interest who also happens to have the supernatural ability to control a person's future with his words. The problem is, Joss doesn't know he's doing it. He accidentally sets Quinn's fate into motion, and they must race against the clock to reverse the horrible events Joss' words set into motion.
Sounds pretty awesome, right? Even now, as I write that (off the top of my head), I'm thinking that would be a pretty interesting book to read! However, that's not the book I wrote. This is more like what I wrote (well, "am writing" since it's not 100% done yet):
When Quinn discovers her fiance cheating on her, she packs up her life and heads South, hoping to find inspiration to start over - not only with her life, but with her disastrous second novel. She stops in the small town of Providence, Florida, where everyone knows everyone else's business and the natives conveniently ignore the siren song that keeps Quinn up at night. Quinn instantly makes a few friends, including Ellie, who can control technology, and her twin sister Amelia, who uses her ability to become invisible to fuel the local gossip market. Then there's Joss, an abrasive but attractive recent newcomer himself, who doesn't realize he has the power to control people's futures with his words. Joss acknowledges that the compulsion he felt to move to Providence means he probably has a latent ability too, but he's not too concerned with figuring out what it may be. Meanwhile, he's sealing fates left and right and no one is the wiser.
But this is the least of the townspeople's problems, because something is making the natives - most noticeably Amelia - lose control over their abilities. When Quinn's meager assets freeze and she decides to scrap her horrible sophomore novel and start over with only three weeks left before she loses her contract, she's desperate for any help she can get. Which is exactly what her ex-fiance, Damien, wanted. And his appearance in Providence coincides with Amelia's inability to control herself.
Meanwhile, Joss' ability to manipulate the future is of no concern to anyone, and they take their time figuring out that he can do it in the first place. Quinn and her new friends try to figure out why their powers keep fritzing while Quinn debates between staying in Providence, penniless, or going back home with a man who claims to be sorry for his sins. The only looming deadline is the one set by Quinn's editor, and the only person who seems to be in much danger is Damien, the "bad guy."
You'll notice the novel I actually wrote took up more space, because when I started the novel, my ideas were very vague. Therein laid the problem. And when I realized Joss was becoming Mr. Rebound instead of Mr. Fate Sealer, I got scared. The novel wasn't going in the direction I wanted it to, at all. It was more casual, a lot less dark, and not at all creepy and fantasy-y. I sucked.
But alas, I don't suck! I simply didn't write the novel I set out to write. And I realized, just now, that that's OK. The novel I'm writing has its flaws, and will require at least one round of in-depth revision to work them out. But... I just have to adjust my mindset. Really, in the end, that's what this is about.
I think I was so set in Joss' ability and the dangers it could cause that I lost the bigger picture - the possibilities of a town full of supernatural people. Why are they supernatural? Don't know. Why are they drawn to Providence, or don't bother to leave their quaint haven? Don't care. Can Joss' power cause a lot of damage before he gets it under control? You betcha - but Damien's can cause even more. And that's the direction I'm going to take these last few chapters in. Joss' ability, and Quinn's emerging one, are still open to play with in the sequel. Which means that I may play around with my first idea more in the second book, because I've given myself room to do that.
The lesson I learned here was that ideas in creative writing need freedom to explore and to change and morph as they please. Backing them into a corner created by vague ideas of what the story SHOULD be about doesn't give your characters the room to fully develop. Could I have written the original version of Providence I set out to write on 11/1/09? Sure. Would it have been as good as the version I'm writing now - 'cause I do really like it. Probably not. It may have been good - hell, it may have been great. But it wouldn't have lived up to its potential. And now that I'm realizing that I haven't written a sucky book, my book just took on a life of its own, I think I can finish it and feel satisfied. And then start prepping for Providence 2... but leaving plenty of room for my ideas to change as I go!
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Published x2
I just found out last night that two poems I wrote for class last fall will be featured in my school's literary publication! There is a LOT of competition, so I'm pretty proud to be included.
The funny thing is, I had submitted the poems in January 2010 and had forgotten about them. It was kind of like early Christmas to get the email that they had been accepted!
I'm pretty excited about this time in my writing life. I'm starting small but picking up speed. To date, this is 4 short pieces published between June 15 and October 15. I'd say that's pretty good.
Now, I'm off to work on my novel :)
The funny thing is, I had submitted the poems in January 2010 and had forgotten about them. It was kind of like early Christmas to get the email that they had been accepted!
I'm pretty excited about this time in my writing life. I'm starting small but picking up speed. To date, this is 4 short pieces published between June 15 and October 15. I'd say that's pretty good.
Now, I'm off to work on my novel :)
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
the Bitter and the Sweet
Here's some writing for ya: A poem. A nasty, first drafty, off the cuff poem. And what better place to share it than a blog, right?
Preface: It's been a rough trip down memory lane today, and this is what resulted.
Preface: It's been a rough trip down memory lane today, and this is what resulted.
I had the pleasure of knowing you
We chased fireflies and boys
Shared snow cones and secrets
We didn’t always see eye to eye
But I loved calling you my friend
I had the pleasure of loving you
Sharing kisses in the moonlight
And secrets on the phone
Skin on skin, your warmth saved me
Your words soothed me
Your trust broke me
I swore I’d love you forever
Until forever came
But I’ll never forget loving you
I had the pleasure of being yours
I have your eyes, your chin,
Your nose
I hate my nose
But it’s a part of you I’ll always have
Something to carry on, make my own
We didn’t always see eye to eye
Too much silence, too little laughter
I turned when I should have forgiven
Left when I should have run into your arms
But I’ll take the bitter and the sweet,
Memories of joy and pain
Because together they make us
Me and you, father and daughter
And I will always be yours
Friday, October 1, 2010
What's my plot?
I have this nasty habit of starting way too many things and not finishing any of them. Cases-in-point: Isaac's Eyes. Vaampyr. Providence.
But that doesn't stop me from having ideas, and what's an idea without at least some brainstorming around it?
I've had two short stories published this summer with Pill Hill Press - "Last Rites," in Haunted, and "Evergreen", in Fem Fangs (find them here: http://www.pillhillpress.com/books.html). And these two stories were not sitting around on my hard-drive, waiting for a publisher to find them. No, I wrote them because I saw an call for submissions with vague enough (yet specific enough) theme descriptions that I decided to drum up some ideas then plot them out. And I'm glad I did, obviously. So, I can't completely discount my ideas just because I'm working on something else (or several "something elses") right?
Which brings me to my thought.
I have an idea, one that's been churning for a while, and Pill Hill is accepting submissions for an anthology that fits the bill of my idea.
The problem is, my idea is vague. It's a world, and character, and a few specific scenes throughout, and the beginnings of an idea for a plot. But I have no idea what kind of supernatural beings will take over my setting, whether they will be peacefully (somewhat, because they can never completely be peaceful!) co-exist with the humans or just decimate them all, how my MC runs into hem, or basically anything else that helps me get the ball rolling.
So at the moment I have snow in July and a woman with a cool name in an indescript job. Sounds like I have my work cut out for me!
A friend of mine linked me today to Holly Lisle's mini plot clinic, which is free, and I've actually done it before (on a very basic level, as in: lesson 1), and it was helpful. So, I think I'll give it a whirl with Unnamed Urban Fantasy story (which I'll call UUF for now!) in mind. On a side-note, I was thinking that my NaNoWriMo novel this year will be Providence 2 (with a much cooler name) but maybe it'll be UUF... hmmm...
I can't reproduce anything from the plot clinic. It says so on the first page ☺ But it's full of exercises and ideas so basic I can't believe I never thought of a story that way before - and I think it might help. The whole (as in, not-mini) plot clinic book has a quote that really struck me today as I'm staring at my poorly outlined story, and I thought it was a simple enough idea I can post it.
For all you writers out there, remember this (courtesy of Holly Lisle):
That's it. Passion, heart, magic - that's a plot. There's more to it than that, of course, but that's where it starts. So with that in mind, I'm going to do a few exercises and see if I can make some magic.
PS -- the weather's awesome, so I might do this outside. Gotta love early October!! ♥
But that doesn't stop me from having ideas, and what's an idea without at least some brainstorming around it?
I've had two short stories published this summer with Pill Hill Press - "Last Rites," in Haunted, and "Evergreen", in Fem Fangs (find them here: http://www.pillhillpress.com/books.html). And these two stories were not sitting around on my hard-drive, waiting for a publisher to find them. No, I wrote them because I saw an call for submissions with vague enough (yet specific enough) theme descriptions that I decided to drum up some ideas then plot them out. And I'm glad I did, obviously. So, I can't completely discount my ideas just because I'm working on something else (or several "something elses") right?
Which brings me to my thought.
I have an idea, one that's been churning for a while, and Pill Hill is accepting submissions for an anthology that fits the bill of my idea.
The problem is, my idea is vague. It's a world, and character, and a few specific scenes throughout, and the beginnings of an idea for a plot. But I have no idea what kind of supernatural beings will take over my setting, whether they will be peacefully (somewhat, because they can never completely be peaceful!) co-exist with the humans or just decimate them all, how my MC runs into hem, or basically anything else that helps me get the ball rolling.
So at the moment I have snow in July and a woman with a cool name in an indescript job. Sounds like I have my work cut out for me!
A friend of mine linked me today to Holly Lisle's mini plot clinic, which is free, and I've actually done it before (on a very basic level, as in: lesson 1), and it was helpful. So, I think I'll give it a whirl with Unnamed Urban Fantasy story (which I'll call UUF for now!) in mind. On a side-note, I was thinking that my NaNoWriMo novel this year will be Providence 2 (with a much cooler name) but maybe it'll be UUF... hmmm...
I can't reproduce anything from the plot clinic. It says so on the first page ☺ But it's full of exercises and ideas so basic I can't believe I never thought of a story that way before - and I think it might help. The whole (as in, not-mini) plot clinic book has a quote that really struck me today as I'm staring at my poorly outlined story, and I thought it was a simple enough idea I can post it.
For all you writers out there, remember this (courtesy of Holly Lisle):
Content is not logic’s strong point. Logic will not give you passion. It will not give you heart. It will not give you magic.
That's it. Passion, heart, magic - that's a plot. There's more to it than that, of course, but that's where it starts. So with that in mind, I'm going to do a few exercises and see if I can make some magic.
PS -- the weather's awesome, so I might do this outside. Gotta love early October!! ♥
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Writing Villains
I had a thought while watching Scooby Doo cartoons the other day. The good ones, from the 70s, "Scooby Doo, Where Are You?"... and that's kind of important to my thought.
The bad guy in this particular episode (Decoy for a Dognapper) was especially shady, and I mean that literally. He was a silhouette, appearing for brief instances and wreaking havoc in his trench coat and hat, leaving all his evilness to the imagination.
This made me think. As a kid, the villains in my books and movies/shows were simple. Shadowy figure, no personality, no identity. All we needed to know was that he was the Big Bad. But as I got older, the bad guys began to become blurry. A trend I've noticed recently is that the bad guys are all semi-good guys. Even if they don't really have any redeeming qualities, we learn their backstory and discover why they are evil. We become sympathetic to them and see them as real people with problems.
This was probably innovative at some point, and I see how it makes sense in some stories. But whatever happened to a shadowy, secretive, silhouetted bad guy we could trust to be evil?
After watching this episode, I thought long and hard about some of my villains. None of them are hard and fast bad guys, and I think the line between good and bad is too blurry in some of my work. I think many stories could do well to return to an idea of letting their bad guy wear a trenchcoat and hat and staying in the darkness. It may be trite, but it sure makes them scarier.
The bad guy in this particular episode (Decoy for a Dognapper) was especially shady, and I mean that literally. He was a silhouette, appearing for brief instances and wreaking havoc in his trench coat and hat, leaving all his evilness to the imagination.
This made me think. As a kid, the villains in my books and movies/shows were simple. Shadowy figure, no personality, no identity. All we needed to know was that he was the Big Bad. But as I got older, the bad guys began to become blurry. A trend I've noticed recently is that the bad guys are all semi-good guys. Even if they don't really have any redeeming qualities, we learn their backstory and discover why they are evil. We become sympathetic to them and see them as real people with problems.
This was probably innovative at some point, and I see how it makes sense in some stories. But whatever happened to a shadowy, secretive, silhouetted bad guy we could trust to be evil?
After watching this episode, I thought long and hard about some of my villains. None of them are hard and fast bad guys, and I think the line between good and bad is too blurry in some of my work. I think many stories could do well to return to an idea of letting their bad guy wear a trenchcoat and hat and staying in the darkness. It may be trite, but it sure makes them scarier.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
The Road to NaNoWriMo 2010
I've been working on my NaNoWriMo09 novel a bit. Really wish I had it done by now, but 2010 has really kicked me in the ass for a while. I think things are back on track now, but my writing has been severely lacking.
Good thing NaNoWriMo10 is right around the corner! Only 3 months away. Which seems like a long time, til I remember that I really want to finish Providence before starting a new NaNo novel (though I say this every year and never get the old novel finished before starting a new one). And I need to start thinking of a story for my '10 novel! I also want to make a cover for both. Err, rather, have my wonderful graphic designy husband make a cover for both :)
I think I'll post a bit from Prov soon. An excerpt, if you will. And set some goals for my last 30,000 or so words I want to write on it by Halloween. That's only a little over 333 words per day for the next almost-90 days. I'm sure I can pull that off! I mean, in the last two years I've successfully written over 50,000 words on a new novel in 30 days. Of course, neither of them have endings...
Enough procrastinating. I'm going to write. At least 400 words, before dinner. Yippee!
Good thing NaNoWriMo10 is right around the corner! Only 3 months away. Which seems like a long time, til I remember that I really want to finish Providence before starting a new NaNo novel (though I say this every year and never get the old novel finished before starting a new one). And I need to start thinking of a story for my '10 novel! I also want to make a cover for both. Err, rather, have my wonderful graphic designy husband make a cover for both :)
I think I'll post a bit from Prov soon. An excerpt, if you will. And set some goals for my last 30,000 or so words I want to write on it by Halloween. That's only a little over 333 words per day for the next almost-90 days. I'm sure I can pull that off! I mean, in the last two years I've successfully written over 50,000 words on a new novel in 30 days. Of course, neither of them have endings...
Enough procrastinating. I'm going to write. At least 400 words, before dinner. Yippee!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Back to the Writing
This blog began in August 2008 as a forum to rant, vent, discuss, and share writing-related thoughts. I blogged about my first NaNoWriMo in November 2008 (which is still not finished, sadly) and inspiration I received from authors like Stephen King and Donald Maass. I shared excerpts from a few of my main WIPs, and I vented when I got stuck writing.
But, writing kind of got lost from my life for a while, and it got lost almost entirely from my blog before that. So far, 2010 has been a pretty crappy year. I actually was thinking of creating a mid-year blog at the end of June to show just how bad of a year it's been for me. However, I recently did some intensive writing, and things are starting to look up.
Case in point: My most recent short story was selected to appear in an anthology of short stories at the end of the summer! More info on that later. But, it's pretty awesome news! Which means, I need to get back to the main purpose of this blog -- writing. Maybe I'll get around to creating a second blog; one for life, one for writing. But for now, this will be mostly devoted to writing. Again.
For now, I think I'll try my hand at June NaNo and see what I can crank out this month while I'm still unemployed (on that front, I have a much-anticipated interview on Friday with the company I really want to work for, so more on that next week!). It's summer summer summertime! And I'm spending everyday at the pool -- granted, it's a 22" deep inflatable one in my backyard, but the kids like it so I'm happy -- and doing yardwork. And writing. Maybe taking a few months off has been good for me, because I'm feeling pretty good about the words lately.
Stay tuned. I have a feeling I'll have more writing news in the future :)
But, writing kind of got lost from my life for a while, and it got lost almost entirely from my blog before that. So far, 2010 has been a pretty crappy year. I actually was thinking of creating a mid-year blog at the end of June to show just how bad of a year it's been for me. However, I recently did some intensive writing, and things are starting to look up.
Case in point: My most recent short story was selected to appear in an anthology of short stories at the end of the summer! More info on that later. But, it's pretty awesome news! Which means, I need to get back to the main purpose of this blog -- writing. Maybe I'll get around to creating a second blog; one for life, one for writing. But for now, this will be mostly devoted to writing. Again.
For now, I think I'll try my hand at June NaNo and see what I can crank out this month while I'm still unemployed (on that front, I have a much-anticipated interview on Friday with the company I really want to work for, so more on that next week!). It's summer summer summertime! And I'm spending everyday at the pool -- granted, it's a 22" deep inflatable one in my backyard, but the kids like it so I'm happy -- and doing yardwork. And writing. Maybe taking a few months off has been good for me, because I'm feeling pretty good about the words lately.
Stay tuned. I have a feeling I'll have more writing news in the future :)
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Writing Again
This will be short, otherwise it'll turn into a procrastination tool.
I graduated on Sunday, Mother's Day. It was a great weekend, though my new shoes blistered my feet and my new dress was hidden beneath my rental gown. I didn't even cry.
I've rested the past few days. Did a little reorganizing, washed some laundry, caught up on sleep and television. The feeling is strange, really -- I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, because I have no homework and no job. But after a little while, I get restless. What if I get a job tomorrow? And I go to work 40 hours a week without getting the chance to rearrange my office or color-code my closet? (Save your snickers for later, color coordination is very efficient.) But then after I start working on these things, I figure they're not that important. After all, there's always tomorrow.
So, today, despite the nagging anxiety that tells me I should be cleaning something, I wrote. It's not a lot, not yet. 305 words of action and description. But I haven't written since Daddy's funeral four months ago.
It feels kind of good now, but the first few words were painful. Physically. The anxiety that crept up was overwhelming. The blank page in front of me wasn't full of endless possibilities, but rather the absence of working out my creative side for so long. Like getting back to running after an injury, I had to stretch, and it hurt at first. But I've pushed through for 305 words and it feels a little better. This is just the first few steps, though. In between reorganizing the garage (which really does need to be done) and vacuuming the whole house, I think I can manage to run a few sprints, metaphorically.
Hopefully I can keep the energy up to finish the race, because I need that satisfied feeling to keep the anxiety at bay. I love writing, and I missed it. I hope I don't have to again.
I graduated on Sunday, Mother's Day. It was a great weekend, though my new shoes blistered my feet and my new dress was hidden beneath my rental gown. I didn't even cry.
I've rested the past few days. Did a little reorganizing, washed some laundry, caught up on sleep and television. The feeling is strange, really -- I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, because I have no homework and no job. But after a little while, I get restless. What if I get a job tomorrow? And I go to work 40 hours a week without getting the chance to rearrange my office or color-code my closet? (Save your snickers for later, color coordination is very efficient.) But then after I start working on these things, I figure they're not that important. After all, there's always tomorrow.
So, today, despite the nagging anxiety that tells me I should be cleaning something, I wrote. It's not a lot, not yet. 305 words of action and description. But I haven't written since Daddy's funeral four months ago.
It feels kind of good now, but the first few words were painful. Physically. The anxiety that crept up was overwhelming. The blank page in front of me wasn't full of endless possibilities, but rather the absence of working out my creative side for so long. Like getting back to running after an injury, I had to stretch, and it hurt at first. But I've pushed through for 305 words and it feels a little better. This is just the first few steps, though. In between reorganizing the garage (which really does need to be done) and vacuuming the whole house, I think I can manage to run a few sprints, metaphorically.
Hopefully I can keep the energy up to finish the race, because I need that satisfied feeling to keep the anxiety at bay. I love writing, and I missed it. I hope I don't have to again.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Milestones
Today would have been my parents' 26 wedding anniversary. Yeah, they've also been divorced for 4 years. But they were best friends afterward, and I honestly think they were on track to get back together. Not for the kids' sake, which is what kept their marriage going when it probably should have ended long ago. But for themselves. And so, despite their 4 year separation, I know my mom is hurting today, on a day she usually celebrated with my dad. It's the first milestone since his death less than 3 months ago. And Sunday will be another one.
My birthday. Daddy used to cook me whatever meal I wanted, no matter how big or ridiculous, for my birthday. He'd try out a new cheesecake recipe every year, and even though I didn't get "gifts," it was always special. In 4 days, I'll be celebrating my birthday without him. I won't be alone, though, thanks to a recent change to my husband's schedule that allows him to be off for my birthday. That's something I guess.
The first year of milestones will be the worst. I know this. The first year of milestones without my grandma, with whom I was extremely close, was devastating. But this is unimaginable. My birthday, my brother's birthday only 3 weeks later, my college graduation 4 days after that, then my little brother's 15th birthday 4 weeks later. ... I just can't fathom any of us going through these big events without our dad, but we're going to have to.
I have a test tonight. A test I really need to get an A in, because I have gotten D's (unheard of under normal circumstances) on the first 2. And I can't concentrate because every random object or sound makes me think of him. I know it'll get easier one day. But that day's not today, and I don't think it'll be anytime soon.
I'm praying for strength to help me through these next 31 days of school, because with my concentration level what it is it'll be a miracle if I can keep my grades up. And the excitement of graduation is dampened by the pain of knowing who won't be there to see it.
That's it for my depressing blog. But I can't help it. If you read this, thanks for listening.
My birthday. Daddy used to cook me whatever meal I wanted, no matter how big or ridiculous, for my birthday. He'd try out a new cheesecake recipe every year, and even though I didn't get "gifts," it was always special. In 4 days, I'll be celebrating my birthday without him. I won't be alone, though, thanks to a recent change to my husband's schedule that allows him to be off for my birthday. That's something I guess.
The first year of milestones will be the worst. I know this. The first year of milestones without my grandma, with whom I was extremely close, was devastating. But this is unimaginable. My birthday, my brother's birthday only 3 weeks later, my college graduation 4 days after that, then my little brother's 15th birthday 4 weeks later. ... I just can't fathom any of us going through these big events without our dad, but we're going to have to.
I have a test tonight. A test I really need to get an A in, because I have gotten D's (unheard of under normal circumstances) on the first 2. And I can't concentrate because every random object or sound makes me think of him. I know it'll get easier one day. But that day's not today, and I don't think it'll be anytime soon.
I'm praying for strength to help me through these next 31 days of school, because with my concentration level what it is it'll be a miracle if I can keep my grades up. And the excitement of graduation is dampened by the pain of knowing who won't be there to see it.
That's it for my depressing blog. But I can't help it. If you read this, thanks for listening.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Counting Down...
... to what, exactly?
To walking across a stage in a big black robe, and turning a collection of strings on top a piece of cardboard on my head. Knowing the whole while I still don't have a job because I'm too qualified for the entry-level positions and not qualified enough for the mid-level.
BUT, I'm still excited about it!!! Graduation is 43 days from today. I just have to get through five classes with passing grades (and hopefully better than merely passing!) and then I can breathe a huge sigh of relief. Graduation is near, signaling a chapter in my life complete.
***
I miss my daddy. A lot. I can't believe he won't be standing with me 43 days from now, telling me how proud he is. I know he is proud of me, but it's just not the same.
***
I've gotten my creative juices flowing once again. Yesterday, I dug out all my painting supplies, which haven't been used in, oh, almost 8 years!! I made a not-so-good painting that started out abstract and ended up looking like an 8-year-old drawing a sunset. But, now that I've written that, I realize that it kind of WAS like an 8-year-old's painting, since I haven't painted in 8 years!
Anyhow, so I painted this and while I know it's not great, it made me happy. It gave me the inspiration to play with colors on the three new webpages I'm making, and I'm itching to not only paint more -- really paint this time -- but also to write!
I'm making a list of things to do tonight, since I have yet another night to myself thanks to 4 12-hour shifts my hubby is working this week (in a row!). So far it includes: dinner, paint, write, watch Buffy, do at least 2 pages of writing on each of my Capstone projects, and read half a chapter of Anatomy. I should probably do the ugly stuff first, and save the creative stuff as a reward, huh?
... 43 days. That's it. After that, I can take the "ugly stuff" off my list!
To walking across a stage in a big black robe, and turning a collection of strings on top a piece of cardboard on my head. Knowing the whole while I still don't have a job because I'm too qualified for the entry-level positions and not qualified enough for the mid-level.
BUT, I'm still excited about it!!! Graduation is 43 days from today. I just have to get through five classes with passing grades (and hopefully better than merely passing!) and then I can breathe a huge sigh of relief. Graduation is near, signaling a chapter in my life complete.
***
I miss my daddy. A lot. I can't believe he won't be standing with me 43 days from now, telling me how proud he is. I know he is proud of me, but it's just not the same.
***
I've gotten my creative juices flowing once again. Yesterday, I dug out all my painting supplies, which haven't been used in, oh, almost 8 years!! I made a not-so-good painting that started out abstract and ended up looking like an 8-year-old drawing a sunset. But, now that I've written that, I realize that it kind of WAS like an 8-year-old's painting, since I haven't painted in 8 years!
Anyhow, so I painted this and while I know it's not great, it made me happy. It gave me the inspiration to play with colors on the three new webpages I'm making, and I'm itching to not only paint more -- really paint this time -- but also to write!
I'm making a list of things to do tonight, since I have yet another night to myself thanks to 4 12-hour shifts my hubby is working this week (in a row!). So far it includes: dinner, paint, write, watch Buffy, do at least 2 pages of writing on each of my Capstone projects, and read half a chapter of Anatomy. I should probably do the ugly stuff first, and save the creative stuff as a reward, huh?
... 43 days. That's it. After that, I can take the "ugly stuff" off my list!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Spring!
I took my last mid-term a couple hours ago and now have 11 days without school! Spring Break rocks (I only wish we got Fall Breaks of a worthwhile length, too)! I get to spend those 11 days with Lillie, who is getting so big so fast.
But, here I am, only 2 hours out from taking my test, and instead of celebrating 11 school-free days, I'm bored. I keep pulling up my school online panel, looking for work to do. After 7 years of college and 12 years of K-12 before that (yes, I realize there are 13 years between K and 12, but I skipped a grade so I only had 12), I guess I don't know how to handle myself when school isn't an issue.
I should probably learn pretty soon, though, because I have only 59 days until graduation, and I've decided to take a year off before grad school. During that year, I hope to make some money to get caught up on bills and live comfortably for a while, instead of stressing about money all the time. And hopefully be enjoying life with a job that allows me to be myself.
But for now, I'm trying to play New Mario Bros on my Wii but it froze up. This is the 2nd game in a row from GameFly to freeze, so either GameFly is shipping me some low-quality items (though they are scratch-free, so it's weird), or my Wii is acting up. Anyhow, without that option... what is there to do? Per my most recent post, lots of things. But I'm so tired I don't have the energy to be too creative. Maybe I'll take my guitar mid-term (yes, it's due in the middle of spring break), or maybe I'll curl up with the Michael Crichton I've been reading (Airframe) and relax.
Yeah.... relaxing.... I think I could do it. Maybe.
But, here I am, only 2 hours out from taking my test, and instead of celebrating 11 school-free days, I'm bored. I keep pulling up my school online panel, looking for work to do. After 7 years of college and 12 years of K-12 before that (yes, I realize there are 13 years between K and 12, but I skipped a grade so I only had 12), I guess I don't know how to handle myself when school isn't an issue.
I should probably learn pretty soon, though, because I have only 59 days until graduation, and I've decided to take a year off before grad school. During that year, I hope to make some money to get caught up on bills and live comfortably for a while, instead of stressing about money all the time. And hopefully be enjoying life with a job that allows me to be myself.
But for now, I'm trying to play New Mario Bros on my Wii but it froze up. This is the 2nd game in a row from GameFly to freeze, so either GameFly is shipping me some low-quality items (though they are scratch-free, so it's weird), or my Wii is acting up. Anyhow, without that option... what is there to do? Per my most recent post, lots of things. But I'm so tired I don't have the energy to be too creative. Maybe I'll take my guitar mid-term (yes, it's due in the middle of spring break), or maybe I'll curl up with the Michael Crichton I've been reading (Airframe) and relax.
Yeah.... relaxing.... I think I could do it. Maybe.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Blank Canvas
There's something amazing about a blank canvas. Just moments ago, I opened a brand new, completely fresh document in Dreamweaver, to start brainstorming for a new website. On one hand, there's a sense of being overwhelmed by all the possibilities and not knowing which to choose. On the other, there's all the possibilities.
I read something yesterday while helping my husband with his homework. In Jack Foster's book, "How to Get Ideas," chapters 5 and 6 are about failure and creativity, respectively. Last night, as I spent 6 hours trying to load my website to its server, the lesson about failure really set in -- Without failure, we cannot learn, and we cannot grow creatively because failing forces us to try out new options, find better ways to do something, and draw inspiration from unlikely sources to meet our goals. Which is what chapter 6, Get More Inputs, was about.
The two things Foster emphasizes in Chapter 6 are 1. Get out of your rut, and 2. Learn how to see. He says to try something new, such as learning a new language, taking a new route to work, re-reading an old classic, find a new hobby, go to lunch with someone different, and just all-around shake up your life. In doing so, you will receive new inputs, which ultimately means new sources of creativity.
Reading those chapters inspired me. I already have a new-things list I update every year. This year, I'm already learning guitar and Greek, which have both been on my list for a while. I've met new people, tasted new foods, and learned to think of things differently. And it's only March.
All of this new stuff you experience, whatever it is, goes into the blank canvas. It's up to you to mesh your new inputs with the old stuff you had jangling around in your brain, and the result is the most brilliant thing imaginable -- creativity.
So, I sit here still, with my bright orange screen glaring at me (a quick "color: #f60" made it that way, but I'm sure it'll change once I play around), a guitar propped up against a wooden artists' easel, and my laptop open to Liquid Story Binder, my writer software of choice. And after the brief moment of fright at all the possibilities, I'm now ready to get my hands dirty, make a few mistakes, and see where they lead me. I'm sure I'll learn something new, and that will inspire something else to spring forth.
Creativity is a wonderful thing, a gift I often have taken for granted. Helping my husband, who wants to be creative but not to expand his horizons to do it, with his homework has helped me see that it's not something you're given, like a gene you can't turn off. Creativity is a curiosity to seek out new information to help you fill your blank canvas, and seeing every one as an opportunity instead of an overwhelming task.
I read something yesterday while helping my husband with his homework. In Jack Foster's book, "How to Get Ideas," chapters 5 and 6 are about failure and creativity, respectively. Last night, as I spent 6 hours trying to load my website to its server, the lesson about failure really set in -- Without failure, we cannot learn, and we cannot grow creatively because failing forces us to try out new options, find better ways to do something, and draw inspiration from unlikely sources to meet our goals. Which is what chapter 6, Get More Inputs, was about.
The two things Foster emphasizes in Chapter 6 are 1. Get out of your rut, and 2. Learn how to see. He says to try something new, such as learning a new language, taking a new route to work, re-reading an old classic, find a new hobby, go to lunch with someone different, and just all-around shake up your life. In doing so, you will receive new inputs, which ultimately means new sources of creativity.
Reading those chapters inspired me. I already have a new-things list I update every year. This year, I'm already learning guitar and Greek, which have both been on my list for a while. I've met new people, tasted new foods, and learned to think of things differently. And it's only March.
All of this new stuff you experience, whatever it is, goes into the blank canvas. It's up to you to mesh your new inputs with the old stuff you had jangling around in your brain, and the result is the most brilliant thing imaginable -- creativity.
So, I sit here still, with my bright orange screen glaring at me (a quick "color: #f60" made it that way, but I'm sure it'll change once I play around), a guitar propped up against a wooden artists' easel, and my laptop open to Liquid Story Binder, my writer software of choice. And after the brief moment of fright at all the possibilities, I'm now ready to get my hands dirty, make a few mistakes, and see where they lead me. I'm sure I'll learn something new, and that will inspire something else to spring forth.
Creativity is a wonderful thing, a gift I often have taken for granted. Helping my husband, who wants to be creative but not to expand his horizons to do it, with his homework has helped me see that it's not something you're given, like a gene you can't turn off. Creativity is a curiosity to seek out new information to help you fill your blank canvas, and seeing every one as an opportunity instead of an overwhelming task.
Monday, March 1, 2010
March 1, 2010
I just realized what the date is. It's already March 1. Two whole months of 2010 have flown by. I can't believe it.
So much is going through my head, and normally writing helps me get it all out. But sometimes -- rarely -- I am so highly emotional that I can't write anything. And that's how the last 6 weeks have been for me. Even now, I'm not sure how much I can get out.
On January 14, 2010, my daddy died unexpectedly. It was a Wednesday. No, really it was a Thursday because it was 12:32 in the morning. Wednesday the 13th, I got a call that he was going into the E.R. The flu he'd had since Monday the 11th wasn't letting up, and he was having trouble breathing.
Let me back up and say that my daddy was fine Monday morning. He sent me an IM saying he was on his way to his first class at IUK, and he'd call me when he was done. I sat there (my first class wasn't until 6pm) waiting anxiously for his call, to find out how his first day of college after 18 years away was. After several years of talking about it, my daddy was going back to school for a Bachelor's degree. He wanted to study psychology and become a counselor and work within his church to help others. Somehow, instead of all that making it easier, it only makes it harder that he's gone.
So, Monday afternoon I called him and found out he didn't go to school. He was very sick -- suddenly and awfully -- and couldn't come to the phone. My brother was at his apartment sitting with him, and he was worried. I got this nagging feeling that he needed to see a doctor immediately. With my daddy's bad heart, a normal bad cold or mild flu could land him in the hospital. But he wouldn't go.
Tuesday came and went and he wasn't feeling better. The bad feeling got worse, and I considered skipping school to go see him and force him to go to the hospital. I didn't, though. I would have, in a heartbeat, if I'd known that the next time I'd see him he would be unconscious, on a respirator, with a balloon pumping his heart because his body couldn't do it. Because I had this bad feeling -- one I couldn't shake but kept trying to tell myself was an overreaction -- I passed a message on to him through my brother. I told Daddy that he needed to go to the hospital, if not for himself, then for me and my brothers. And if not for us, then for school. Because he needed to know whether he had to withdraw, and if so, he had to do it early enough to get Ws and not Fs. And if he didn't have to withdraw, he needed to know so he could start catching up on his work.
Wednesday evening, when the rest of my anatomy class was listening to a lecture on blood, I was sitting in the ICU waiting room in Kokomo, where my mom told me that the reason my daddy conceded to get checked out was because someone had told him he needed an excuse for his teachers. I felt good about myself for a minute, knowing it was my words that got him to the hospital.
That good feeling didn't last, though, because the doctor said his prognosis was bad. Real bad. I got to see him, and tell him that he had to get better so he could come to my college graduation in May. I wanted that picture with me in my cap and gown, standing between my smiling parents. I didn't get it in high school, and now I won't ever get it because it took me seven years to get through college. I told my daddy that I still wanted him to walk me down the aisle, that I know I disappointed him by eloping and when I have the money I want a real wedding ceremony -- primarily so that he could do what he'd always dreamed off, and give his only daughter away. And I told him that I wasn't going home until he was better, that I'd miss all the school I had to to make sure I didn't miss anything.
Most importantly, I told him that I loved him and not to worry about anyone but himself. I guess he listened.
Three hours later, he started a series of cardiac arrests, and each time the nurse would come out to tell me his heart had started beating again, another would be on her heels to tell me it had stopped again. I got to watch, to see that they were doing all they could for him, but it was so brutal. CPR in real life is nothing like you see on TV. It's not a quick series of calm, small thrusts and a doctor with just the right amount of angst in his voice counting to 15. It's much more violent, and horrible.
At half past twelve, his doctor asked me to make the toughest decision I've ever had to make. The CPR wasn't helping, and they'd given him all the medicine they could give. He'd had five heart attacks, essentially, and we already knew that even if he came out of this he might have severe brain trauma from the lack of oxygen. He needed my permission to stop trying to resuscitate him.
At 12:31am, I agreed. The doctors didn't have to save my daddy. He was already with God.
At 12:32am, the doctor called it. At that second, my heart shattered.
I planned the funeral, I picked out the casket, I ordered the grave marker (which, by the way, doesn't come with the cost of the funeral itself), I picked out the flowers, I wrote the obituary, I bought an outfit, I endured the fighting between my brothers, I held my 14 year old brother while he made the worst sound I've ever heard, shaking uncontrollably, I explained to my 10 year old that Grandpa Bob went to be with Grandma Boots in Heaven, and I gave all PR responsibility to my husband. The poor guy, who was in his own right devastated, spent hours calling and texting my friends and family members. I love him for that more than he might know. And I love all my friends and family members who answered the correspondence at 1 in the morning, some of them even offering to come sit with me despite 8am work schedules. I met with the funeral director, I picked out his gravesite, I paid the bills, I went through everyone's pictures for the DVD (which Mike, bless his heart, made so it would be done right), and I wrote the worst poem I've ever written, both from an emotional standpoint and actual wordage. It probably sucks so bad, I'm embarrassed to reread it. But it was for my daddy, and he knows I anguished over every word, and read it with love.
In all of that, I forgot to eat, I couldn't sleep, and my nose ran so much I went through two boxes of Puffs with lotion.
It is now almost 6 weeks later, but it feels like I just buried my daddy yesterday. The wound is still raw, but I've managed to get a little of my life back. Enough to get caught up on my schoolwork and put together a collection of the poetry and songs my dad wrote.
I even took a shot at revising the novel we were collaborating on, but I couldn't do it. I will, but not yet. More on that later.
It's now 3:12am on March 1, 2010. But the date means nothing, because I feel empty. I'm counting down to graduation on May 9, but I can't get excited. Without my daddy, it won't be the same. And I know he's watching me, and that he'll be there in spirit, but it's not the same, and it never will be.
So much is going through my head, and normally writing helps me get it all out. But sometimes -- rarely -- I am so highly emotional that I can't write anything. And that's how the last 6 weeks have been for me. Even now, I'm not sure how much I can get out.
On January 14, 2010, my daddy died unexpectedly. It was a Wednesday. No, really it was a Thursday because it was 12:32 in the morning. Wednesday the 13th, I got a call that he was going into the E.R. The flu he'd had since Monday the 11th wasn't letting up, and he was having trouble breathing.
Let me back up and say that my daddy was fine Monday morning. He sent me an IM saying he was on his way to his first class at IUK, and he'd call me when he was done. I sat there (my first class wasn't until 6pm) waiting anxiously for his call, to find out how his first day of college after 18 years away was. After several years of talking about it, my daddy was going back to school for a Bachelor's degree. He wanted to study psychology and become a counselor and work within his church to help others. Somehow, instead of all that making it easier, it only makes it harder that he's gone.
So, Monday afternoon I called him and found out he didn't go to school. He was very sick -- suddenly and awfully -- and couldn't come to the phone. My brother was at his apartment sitting with him, and he was worried. I got this nagging feeling that he needed to see a doctor immediately. With my daddy's bad heart, a normal bad cold or mild flu could land him in the hospital. But he wouldn't go.
Tuesday came and went and he wasn't feeling better. The bad feeling got worse, and I considered skipping school to go see him and force him to go to the hospital. I didn't, though. I would have, in a heartbeat, if I'd known that the next time I'd see him he would be unconscious, on a respirator, with a balloon pumping his heart because his body couldn't do it. Because I had this bad feeling -- one I couldn't shake but kept trying to tell myself was an overreaction -- I passed a message on to him through my brother. I told Daddy that he needed to go to the hospital, if not for himself, then for me and my brothers. And if not for us, then for school. Because he needed to know whether he had to withdraw, and if so, he had to do it early enough to get Ws and not Fs. And if he didn't have to withdraw, he needed to know so he could start catching up on his work.
Wednesday evening, when the rest of my anatomy class was listening to a lecture on blood, I was sitting in the ICU waiting room in Kokomo, where my mom told me that the reason my daddy conceded to get checked out was because someone had told him he needed an excuse for his teachers. I felt good about myself for a minute, knowing it was my words that got him to the hospital.
That good feeling didn't last, though, because the doctor said his prognosis was bad. Real bad. I got to see him, and tell him that he had to get better so he could come to my college graduation in May. I wanted that picture with me in my cap and gown, standing between my smiling parents. I didn't get it in high school, and now I won't ever get it because it took me seven years to get through college. I told my daddy that I still wanted him to walk me down the aisle, that I know I disappointed him by eloping and when I have the money I want a real wedding ceremony -- primarily so that he could do what he'd always dreamed off, and give his only daughter away. And I told him that I wasn't going home until he was better, that I'd miss all the school I had to to make sure I didn't miss anything.
Most importantly, I told him that I loved him and not to worry about anyone but himself. I guess he listened.
Three hours later, he started a series of cardiac arrests, and each time the nurse would come out to tell me his heart had started beating again, another would be on her heels to tell me it had stopped again. I got to watch, to see that they were doing all they could for him, but it was so brutal. CPR in real life is nothing like you see on TV. It's not a quick series of calm, small thrusts and a doctor with just the right amount of angst in his voice counting to 15. It's much more violent, and horrible.
At half past twelve, his doctor asked me to make the toughest decision I've ever had to make. The CPR wasn't helping, and they'd given him all the medicine they could give. He'd had five heart attacks, essentially, and we already knew that even if he came out of this he might have severe brain trauma from the lack of oxygen. He needed my permission to stop trying to resuscitate him.
At 12:31am, I agreed. The doctors didn't have to save my daddy. He was already with God.
At 12:32am, the doctor called it. At that second, my heart shattered.
I planned the funeral, I picked out the casket, I ordered the grave marker (which, by the way, doesn't come with the cost of the funeral itself), I picked out the flowers, I wrote the obituary, I bought an outfit, I endured the fighting between my brothers, I held my 14 year old brother while he made the worst sound I've ever heard, shaking uncontrollably, I explained to my 10 year old that Grandpa Bob went to be with Grandma Boots in Heaven, and I gave all PR responsibility to my husband. The poor guy, who was in his own right devastated, spent hours calling and texting my friends and family members. I love him for that more than he might know. And I love all my friends and family members who answered the correspondence at 1 in the morning, some of them even offering to come sit with me despite 8am work schedules. I met with the funeral director, I picked out his gravesite, I paid the bills, I went through everyone's pictures for the DVD (which Mike, bless his heart, made so it would be done right), and I wrote the worst poem I've ever written, both from an emotional standpoint and actual wordage. It probably sucks so bad, I'm embarrassed to reread it. But it was for my daddy, and he knows I anguished over every word, and read it with love.
In all of that, I forgot to eat, I couldn't sleep, and my nose ran so much I went through two boxes of Puffs with lotion.
It is now almost 6 weeks later, but it feels like I just buried my daddy yesterday. The wound is still raw, but I've managed to get a little of my life back. Enough to get caught up on my schoolwork and put together a collection of the poetry and songs my dad wrote.
I even took a shot at revising the novel we were collaborating on, but I couldn't do it. I will, but not yet. More on that later.
It's now 3:12am on March 1, 2010. But the date means nothing, because I feel empty. I'm counting down to graduation on May 9, but I can't get excited. Without my daddy, it won't be the same. And I know he's watching me, and that he'll be there in spirit, but it's not the same, and it never will be.
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