Living Beyond the Walls

I’ll tell you, I had every intention of getting into writing last night.  Computer was ready, I was ready, there was nothing on television, I was ready for music and typing out words.

But life never lets you do what you want to do, right?

As I’m leaving work I check my phone and find I missed a call.  I check it, and it’s from the place where I was getting my new glasses from, and they tell me they’re it.  So I get home, get ready–just to even go out a have to get ready a little–and head out.  Fortunately traffic isn’t bad, but I still have to make a run to somewhere on the north side of the city.  And I notice that traffic going into the city is bad because of a wreck.  Not something good, particularly when things are backed up for miles.

I get my glasses–yeah, they look great . . .

Oh, and new earrings, too.  Wonderful.

Oh, and new earrings, too. Wonderful.

. . . and after picking them up I decides I need to pick up a few things at Target, and then get something to eat.  I wasn’t planing on staying out long, but I didn’t want to try and fight my way back through the traffic, so I took my time with my dinner.

By the time I rolled back to the apartment to snap the above picture, it was about eight PM.

Then I had to roll out and do something on Facebook, because I’m hosting a book club this month, and I had to set up which three books people can choose from.  Since I’d made my selections months ago it was just a matter of doing the ol’ cut and paste and getting things in place before setting up a poll, but it still took time to get that and the notifications together.  And as soon as I finished getting that set up–

The questions came.

Because they always do when there’s a new book.  Because people want to know things, they have interests in what you’re presenting.  I should have known, but sometimes I can be . . . clueless.  It’s not an easy feeling.

Oh, and I didn’t mention the PMs from people wanting to get together in a couple of weeks.  Did I mention that?  No.  I have now.

This is life, and it’s something I haven’t experienced in a bit.  It’s where unexpected things jump out at you and you do what is necessary to handle them.  My plan had been to come home, start dinner, get the book club stuff set up, eat, then write.  Silly me:  what did I know?

It’s a nice change up to be able to do something unexpected–and I had been waiting for my glasses for a few days, so there was a bit of excitement there.  I just didn’t expect it all to happen like . . . this.

Writing tonight, I promise.  I’ve got Isis trying to explain a school break-in where there shouldn’t be one, and gargoyles hiding in the wall.  I’ll get back into my fantasy . . .

And hope that life doesn’t throw a curve at me tonight.

Return of the Last Week

Does that seem cryptic?  Like, oh, god, what sort of “Last Week” are you describing?  Hummm, maybe a little cryptic, but that because I come from a different time and place, not unlike a certain traveler who was on over the weekend.

A week from today is Labor Day, or as some people think of it, the traditional marking of the end of summer.  After that day women aren’t supposed to wear white shoes, men are suppose to stop wearing shorts, and everyone’s suppose to adapt to the idea that fall is here and winter’s around the corner.  It was also, in some places the start of the school year, and depending on the calendar, school either started today, or it started next Tuesday.

That simply isn’t the case any longer.  Today we start school like the first week of August, people don’t much give a damn about what they wear well into fall (something I’ve noticed as I’ve adapted my change in clothing and watched how other women to the same), and winter is now a meme to tell people to brace themselves for some life-changing shit.

And my head was chopped off a few years or over a decade ago, so totally not a spoiler.

And his head was chopped off a few years or over a decade ago, depending on the medium of your choice, so totally not a spoiler.

So we are in the last week of summer.  It’s here, and soon it’ll be Friday, and summer is going . . . well, it’s not going anywhere.  Fall doesn’t officially come for almost another month, and looking ahead for the weeks to come, I doubt that we’re going to see fall-like weather soon.  Which is good, because I don’t have all my winter clothes together yet.  I can get through fall okay, but winter–it’s gonna be a tough one in The Burg.

The only true season I ever used to pay attention to was summer, and that was because I grew up in a house with no air conditioning until about 1970, and so summer was as time of dread.  It was hot and sweaty and miserable, and I couldn’t wait for cooler weather so I could sleep and enjoy going outside without enduring the sensation that I was melting.

The summer’s been mild this year, and where it was super sweltering I’ve manage to stay out of the direct rays and stay comfortable.  Winter is suppose to be a total pain in the ass this year, and that only bothers me in the sense that it’s necessary to go out and share the road with hundreds of drivers who lose their minds whenever there’s the smallest amount of snow on the ground.

However, it’s not the weather going away that I’ll think about this year.  The summer was one of dramatic change for me, and in this last week I meet with my therapist and talk about all the stuff that’s happened in the month since I last saw her.  I’m sure they’ll be a lot of discussion about what’s going to happen at work this winter, and not a few mentions of my emotional state over the month of August.

And then we can talk about what’s coming in the fall.

All-in-all, it’s not been a bad summer,

Maybe I need to get out and enjoy what their is of my new life in the fall.

message

Changing seasons, changing gender appearance–pretty much the same, don’t you think?  It can still make for a good hike on a nice day.

 

Affirmations in the Morning Light

There are demons who follow everyone around.  Not demons in the sense that creatures from Hell as tip-toeing about in your shadows waiting to snag your soul when you least expected it; after all, it’s hard to tip-toe when you have hooves, ’cause that clopping makes a hell of a noise.  I know, ’cause I used to be a demoness in Second Life–let me tell you, finding a pair of boots was hell.  True, pure, hell.

I have demons of a different kind.  They whisper in my ear and tell me what a load of crap I am, and then giggle at their own inventiveness.  They run you down as much as possible and twist your head around so much you look like you came out of rehearsals for The Exorcist.  Just once I’d like to get a succubus come and visit me, but that’s asking for too much, I suppose.

The demons came for me yesterday, and it was a close thing.  They hit me at work, and never let up, keeping my heart in a constant state of feeling like it wanted to leap out of my body and run for cover.  That is one of the worst feelings in the world, and after you’ve suffered with it for a few hours, you want the pain to stop.  It didn’t, and it wouldn’t.  It lay there like a dull ache, a rotted remnant of all the past pain through which I’ve suffered over the years.

It finally grew so bad I made a comment to some of my Facebook friends.  It was one of those cryptic statements that gets people wondering what the hell is going on.  I made a few, then left.  I figured I’d stay off Facebook for a while, come back when I got home–after I chased the demons away–and then go back and apologize later.  Little did I know the storm I’d set off . . .

I have friends, people who started calling each other and discussing the fact they thought they were something wrong with me, and the finally found the one people who, if they talked to me, would find out what was bothering me.  Yep–that person.  You know who . . .

The story has a happy ending.  After many tears were shed and words exchanged, I settled down, I got my head together, I shot a video for my friends explaining what happened and what I was feeling, and everyone felt better when it was all over.

But there was something else taken away from it all . . .

In my current story, in the scene where Annie visited Kerry in the hospital close to the time when everyone’s suppose to go to bed, she tells Kerry he’s worthy of love.  he so used to not receiving affection that her words strike him hard.  He’s never imagined that he was worthy of anything much less love.

One of the things I was told last night is that I have to learn to love myself.  I need to be selfish and put myself ahead of my love for others and make sure I remind myself, day and night, that I’m freakin’ amazing, and that I love myself.  And I realized that’s something that Kerry doesn’t understand–not yet, at least.  Even later in his relationship with Annie, he’s yet to figure out that he’s worthy of his own love.  He doesn’t realize that if he doesn’t love himself, all he’s leaving for Annie to love is an empty, dead shell of a person.  It’s why he feels such insecurity in later stories; it’s why he lets his parents treat him like an outsider.  He hasn’t figured out that while he has Annie’s love, in order to survive, he needs his own love.

I’m getting better.  I love someone, but I’ve found it hard to love myself.  But with the hormonal changes, with the continuing transition, I’m now getting in touch with the person I’m suppose to really love.  I don’t want to be a shell any longer; the deadness inside is no longer desirable–

It’s time to tell the demons to take a hike and let me love the one who needs my love.

Though if a nice succubus wants to stick around, I won’t complain . . .

Kerry probably sees this in the morning, too.  It's a good feeling to know you're seeing it with someone you love.

Kerry probably sees this in the morning, too. It’s a good feeling to know you’re seeing it with someone you love.

From the Space and Time to the Sensuality

First there will be some geek talk, and then I’m Bringing Back Sexy in an open and honest way.  If you don’t want the sexy, read the two paragraphs after this one and bid the page Audios!  No harm, no foul, and You Have Been Warned.

Onward.

 

 

For the last few days I’ve found myself in some rather interesting conversations.  Naturally, because of my geeky nature, and those of others I know, we’ve chatting up a lot of Doctor Who this week because it’s time to come up with another Doctor, and for us who are into this sort of thing, we like to talk about it.  It also helps that BBCA has been running shows all week, so that gives us the opportunity to re-watch episodes that we’ve already seen a dozen times, and snark on about what we like and what we don’t like.

"Seriously, she thinks Rose is the best?  I'm gonna have to set this bitch straight, won't I?"

“Seriously, she thinks Rose is the best companion? I’m gonna have to set this bitch straight:  that’s what The Internet is for!”

It’s been a lot of fun chatting this stuff up, particularly since I consider myself to not only be an expert on the show–because I’m old and from Chicago, which was one of the only places that used to air the show in North America in the 1970’s and 1980’s–and because I’ve personally turned a few people onto the show over the years and made them nearly as geeky as me.  Nearly, I say.  That means when the lowdown on trivia is needed, and information is required for aspect that elude others, I’m the Go To Girl for All of Time and Space.  Just call me Idris, because I may as well travel around like that.

It’s a lovely diversion, but it’s not the only one . . .

‘Cause now comes Sexy Time.  You want more?  Come on in.

 

You ready?  Let’s go, let’s go.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

There’s another conversation I’ve been falling into as well, and that’s something we, in the one group I’m in–are calling our “Sex Education Talk.”  Though “sex education is really a bit of a misnomer:  it’s more like the ladies getting together and talking about kinky-ass sex–in some cases actual kinky ass sex.  It’s really been all over the place, particularly in the area of toys, which seem to get used a lot.  I don’t have a problem with toys, or lotions, or wearing articles of clothing to help ramp up the passion and sensuality, or just the out-and-out Let’s Get Down and Bang This Gong feeling that’s gonna hit in any second now.  Particularly this last, because if they’re one thing I love, it’s sexy clothing or night gowns, or even a bit of fetish wear if you can find some that (a) fits and (b) doesn’t feel like you’re encased in something unyielding.  Unless that’s exactly what you want . . .

"Hi, honey.  Guess what's for dinner?  Tacos!  You better say yes if you know what's good for you--"

“Hi, honey. Guess what’s for dinner? Tacos! You better say ‘I’m so hungry’ if you know what’s good for you–“

It’s refreshing to sit and read some of the things my lady friends have experienced, some of the wildness they’ve gotten into, and some of the advice they have for those who may be less experienced in this area.  Because if there’s one thing we’re not open about is sex.  Particularly these days, when you have buttheads running for public offices who say watching women walk around topless will lead to men becoming gay.  Dude:  projection is a total bitch.  You should do something about that.

I haven’t said much about sex in the group simply because most of what I know these days ends up on the printed page.  Sure, I’ve written erotica, most of which is pretty strange, and probably goes well beyond anything my friends would ever consider–unless it is their total kink to turn into a human-like centaur with the fully functioning genitals of both genders, and then have a couple of women get down on them.  Then they’re right up there in my ballpark, ’cause that’s how my mind works.

I am happy to know sexy is alive and well with all kinds of people, but I’m also a little saddened because it’s not something I experience.  Intimacy is something I haven’t known in some time, and likely isn’t in the cards for some time to come.  That’s kinda of choice, and it’s . . . well, complicated, just like time travel.  The reasons for it I won’t divulge, but needless to say depression played a part there, a singular lack of love played another part–and these days I’m so uncomfortable with my body that it’s difficult for me to think about getting intimate with myself.

I’ve had the “sex talk” with my HRT doctor.  We’ve discussed the changes I’m going through, which is really nothing short of Puberty Mk 2.  My doctor is also trans, so she’s been through the same thing I’m going through, and had some advice for “exploring,” if we wish to call it that.  My reactions are decidedly feminine these days; stimulation starts in different places within the body than where they happened before.  There are physical reactions now that were never present in the past, and with continuing hormone treatment those reactions will become more pronounced and intense.

I did reassure my doctor that I wasn’t about to go running around town looking to score because that’s never been my style.  I’ve always been tentative about meeting other people face-to-face, and I’ve always been uncomfortable about my body and putting it on display for others.  Even more so now, because with the physical changes I’m also experiencing the insecurity that comes with those changes.

While I would love to get a sexy night gown and feel good about myself, I’m afraid I wouldn’t, just because it’s hard for me to feel that way.

This is my idea of sexy night gowns, though my sack of potatoes body wouldn't look nearly as nice in this one.

This is my idea of sexy night gowns, though my sack of potatoes body wouldn’t look nearly as nice.  Also, I’ll do without the Hello Kitty slippers as well.

It’s taking time to get to the place where I’ll be as comfortable talking about vibrating rings and beads and schoolgirl outfits as my friends–though I really sort of see myself as the domineering Headmistress in the corset dress wearing her shiny black boots, so watch out, girls.  That doesn’t mean I can’t write about it, and I have developed some good ideas that could turn into short, hot stories.  And once I’m though with this monster of a novel I could just do that–

Or maybe I should jump in and write about a woman who spends so much time in a sexy crocheted body suit that she just can’t find the time to take it off–

Hey, you should hear some of my other ideas.

Dark Witch Rising

Twenty-four hours can bring about a nice change.  As I said yesterday, sometimes you need to get out and change things up a bit, just to make things better.

That’s sort of what I did yesterday.  I got home from woke, changes, threw on my jean skirt and a nice top, put on my sandals, checked my makeup, and headed out.  I needed to pick up a few groceries, but since I intended writing first, I stopped at Panera to set up the computer and get something to eat.

And with the eating and a little social media out of the way, I put on a live recording of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, recorded at the Shrine Auditorium in late January of 1975, and got to town.  I didn’t leave until just over two hours later, when I was thirteen hundred words into the scene, and and it was finished.  I was proud, because this scene needed to get finished.

Writing looks easy, but believe me, being in a public places allows you to drown out all other distractions.  Um, yeah.

Writing looks easy, but believe me, being in a public places allows you to drown out all other distractions. Um, yeah.

See, this scene is all about Annie.  Unfortunately for her, Nurse Thebe blabbed to the other girls about Annie being an amazing zombie killer, and how she worked up an Air Hammer spell in a matter of seconds while hordes of the undead–okay, four–bore down upon her.  When you get that sort of hype laid upon you, naturally others want to see you in action.  Since Annie was told not to use the spell on anyone living–since she could like, you know, kill them–a subject was needed . . .

 

(All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

Sahkyo pointed at the hovering nurse. “What about Thebe? She’s not human.”

Annie was going to explain why using Thebe as a test subject was out of the question when she addressed the subject. “I may not be human, but I can be damaged. Nurse Coraline wouldn’t appreciate my being put out of action because of a spell.”

Annie nodded slowly in the nurse’s direction. “Thank you.”

“On the other hand . . .” Thebe looked over her shoulder. “I do have something Annie could use as a test subject.”

Nurse Thebe headed over to where the stretchers sat and returned with one. She set it upright, floating a few centimeters above the floor. “You can use this.”

Annie didn’t want to show off, not for these girls, not for the nurse, either. “I don’t want to damage it—”

“It’s made of carbon mesh suspended between carbon-carbon fiber poles.” Thebe shook her head. “One can support a ton. You’re not going to damage it.” She let her fingers glide over one of the poles. “And it’s floating, so there’s no resistance. It’ll simply fly backwards.”

 

Sure, don’t hurt the artificial person (or AP), but beat up on those stretchers all you want.  Annie therefor bows to peer pressure and decides to give a quick demonstration.

 

 

She held her right hand at her side and relaxed. “Remember that to make this spell work, you gather air together at a point.” A small swirling ball began forming in the palm of her hand. “Once you have drawn it to your point, you pull it tighter, as if you’re squeezing it with both hands.” The ball began to shimmer as Annie used energy and willpower to compress the mass. “Then, when you are ready, you choose a target . . .”

Annie didn’t throw the air ball as much as she pushed her hand in the direction of the stretcher. She didn’t need to throw it; her willpower drove the Air Hammer forward faster than the eye could follow. Almost instantly the stretcher was struck with an audible thwack and thrown backward back into the far north wall of the Rotunda before bouncing off with a loud and and falling to the floor.

Neither girl nor Nurse Thebe said a word for almost five seconds. The first reaction came from Sahkyo. “Damn. That’s, um . . .” She tightly closed her eyes for several seconds. “The best I’ve ever done was little better than a breeze.”

“The energy required is minuscule.” Annie slowly turned towards the girls. “It’s all visualization and willpower—”

“And a lot of luck.”

 

And what’s a demonstration without someone coming in to mouth off?  Which is when Lisa shows up and starts talking shit.

 

Annie looked over her shoulder, half-turning to her right. Lisa was approaching the group slowly, her hands behind her back with her eyes turned towards the floor, and an unusual smirk upon her face, as if she knew something that she was keeping from everyone else.

Lisa stopped about five meters from Annie. “After all, isn’t that how you did that during class? You got lucky?”

“I don’t believe in luck.” Annie crossed her arms. “It had nothing to do with our coven test that day.”

“Not even a little.”

“No.”

Lisa shrugged. “Maybe not with you, but I’m guessin’ . . .” She half turned to her left, the smirk growing. “Kerry probably used a lot of luck to make that same spell work.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Kerry is just as skilled; he doesn’t rely on luck, either.”

“So you say.”

 

Yes, she does say, Lisa, but that’s not going to keep you from not only mouthing off, but insulting others as well.

 

 

Thebe joined the conversation. “What you’re pointing out is wrong, Lisa.”

She turned on the nurse. “What would you know about it? You’re not even human.” The smirk returned. “You can only do magic because supertech allows it—right?”

Lisa’s last statement didn’t set well with Annie. She knew Thebe wouldn’t get angry—while APs could get mad in the right situations now wasn’t one of those—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t express her feelings. While she kept her tone normal, the words were spoken in a low, slow voice. “That’s not only a rude thing to say, it was stupid.” She decided to get in a dig of her own. “You sent two of your own covenmates to the hospital that day: you’re in no position to make light of the abilities of others.”

The smirk vanished as Lisa’s face froze into an unemotional mask. Only her eyes gave any indication there was something going on inside her mind. “That was an accident.”

“A preventable one if you’d bothered to think.” She slowly pulled her hair back and laid it behind her ears. “Don’t speak of others using luck when you couldn’t find any of your own.”

Annie is now the Queen of Zingers, which doesn’t set well with Lisa–

 

The stare Lisa affixed upon Annie turned deadly. She crossed her arms, flexing her fingers across her forearms. “So you think Kerry’s not gonna need any luck—” She nodded up towards the skylight. “Bein’ out there.”

Annie huffed. “He doesn’t need luck, Lisa. I’ve already said that.”

“Even if the bad guys come?”

“Kerry knows what to do if there’s trouble.” Annie returned Lisa’s deadly stare. “I’m not worried.”

“Not even a little?” Lisa tossed her head from side to side.

Annie breathed deeply through her nose. “No.”

“I mean a lot of things could happen.” She glanced up at the skylight once again. “These Deconstructors, they could fly through the screen and shoot him down—”

“Not likely.”

“Or they could take him out from the ground with a fireball or somethin’.”

Though she didn’t show it, Annie felt her irritation growing. “If there are any problems, Kerry will head for safety.” She’d discussed this matter with Coraline only an hour earlier, and knew what the fliers would do in the instance of major attack. “He knows what to do.”

“Maybe he does—” Lisa waited as Annie began to turn away. “That doesn’t mean Emma does.”

 

Oh, yeah:  you had to go there.  Just like Emma had to pull the trigger on “Is Annie your girlfriend?”, Lisa’s gotta jam that same button ’cause she knows a little something about what makes Annie’s mind start seeing bad things.  And she just isn’t gonna let up . . .

 

 

Annie froze in mid-turn. She swiveled her head around towards Lisa. “You don’t know—”

“I saw them leavin’ together; I’m guessin’ ol’ Salomon put them together.” The smirked turned to a tight grin. “Which means they’re probably flyin’ around, chattin’ up a storm—”

“Kerry wouldn’t chat up a storm.” Annie’s eyes were now dark hazel pinpoints. “He knows better.”

“Yeah, but what about Emma? You know—” Lisa held her hands out parallel to each other. “Miss ‘Hey Kerry, Come Race With Me’?” She pushed her hands together and made a crashing sounds as they collided. “You know how well he was listenin’ then.”

It took an bit of effort for Annie to dispel what she was feeling before speaking. “Kerry isn’t out there listening to Emma; he knows what to do.” She turned away from Lisa. “Nothing is going to happen.”

“Maybe you think so—” Lisa turned to follow Annie as she slowly walked away from the conversation. “But, you know, if things don’t happen to Kerry—”

Annie spoke without looking at her tormentor. “Be quiet, Lisa.”

“—that doesn’t mean somethin’ won’t happen to Emma—”

Annie stopped and looked over her shoulder, her eyes on fire. “Enough.”

“—and Kerry’s just stupid enough to help her—”

You shut up.” Annie spun around and pointed at Lisa, her face cold and hard, her eyes the only indication of her emotions.

 

Kerry likes to call Annie his Dark Witch for a reason, and Annie keeps telling him it’s not joke, that she does have darkness, that it’s not a game.  When she spins around and points at you and tells you to shut up in a low, harsh voice, shit’s about to happen.  What happens is Lisa is rendered mute.  Wanna guess why?

 

 

Thebe did a quick scan of Lisa’s face and throat. “What the—?” She turned the angry girl in the direction of the triage center. “Go sit down; I’ll be with you in a moment.” She waited for Lisa to stalk off out of earshot before approaching Annie. “What did you do to her?”

Nagesa and Sahkyo were right behind the triage nurse. Shakyo seemed shocked. “You cursed her, didn’t you?”

Ignoring the girl’s question, Annie spoke to Thebe. “I used Paralytic.”

Thebe’s eyes narrowed. “That’s sorcery.”

Annie nodded. “Yes, it is.”

Nagesa said nothing, but Sahkyo found it almost impossible to contain herself. “You’re not suppose to use sorcery on another student—” She turned to Nagesa. “Not outside the ring, that is.”

If Thebe was troubled by this information, she didn’t let it show. Her calm profession demeanor reassessed itself, and she took control of the situation. “She didn’t mean it, though.” The nurse positioned herself so she could face all three girls at the same time, and she kept her voice soft so it wouldn’t travel. “You both wanted to see the sort of spells Annie knew. She showed you Air Hammer, and you wanted to see more. She showed few others, but . . .” She glanced over her shoulder at the now-sitting Lisa. “One got away and paralyzed Lisa’s vocal cords.”

“It won’t last long either—” Annie gave the tiniest of shrugs. “She’ll be able to speak in a few hours . . . but it’s not like she needs her voice to do this job.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Thebe grew closer to Annie. “And you won’t do that again, will you?”

Annie didn’t blink. “I have no reason to now.”

“Good.” Nurse Thebe stepped back a few paces. “I’ll tell Coraline what happened after I look at Lisa.” She walked away without another word.

Annie didn’t bother following Thebe as she departed; she focused instead on the two girls who continued to stare at her with some disbelief. She finally cracked a slight smile. “Hope you saw enough.”

Nagesa nodded. “When did you find time to learn Paralytic?”

“I taught it to myself two years ago.” Annie spoke nonchalantly about the spell. “My mother allowed me to use a construct so I could test the spell.”

“You taught yourself?” Sahkyo almost yelped out her question.

“Yes, I did.”

“Damn, girl—” She swung back and forth, her face lit up. “You’re like Lovecraft, you know that?”

Annie chuckled softly. “I’m sure she’d consider that a complement.” She lowered her gaze slightly. “If you’ll excuse me—” She quickly pointed at the benches along the south wall of the Rotund. “I’d like to rest.”

 

Yes, consider it a complement when the upper coven levels start comparing you to the school’s Dark Mistress of All.  Though Helena might say something different . . . naw, who am I kidding?  She’d smile like mad knowing Annie cursed some loud mouth who wouldn’t shut up.  If the roles had been reversed, and Lisa was running off at the mouth about Erywin, Helena would have set her on fire.

Moral of the story:  never piss off the Head Sorceress.

So finally, three out of five scenes complete, Chapter Twenty-One closer to finished, and the attack is coming.  You know that because you can see the title on Chapter Twenty-Two.  Right?

Caption here

I’m nothing if not subtle.

The next scene should be short, and the last scene will get some staff and instructors talking.

And thanks to everyone who left me messages yesterday.  It’s nice to have supportive fans out there.

Productivity Tools for Writers

Cassidy Frazee:

Some tools for writers that I wasn’t aware existed. It’s always good to learn something new.

Originally posted on Live to Write - Write to Live:

Screen captures of GQueues (desktop and mobile), Harvest and BoomerangTechnology plays an important role in all of our lives. I’m always interested in what’s new and trying to implement the latest advancements so I can do more in less time. I’ve recently started using a few new services and I wanted to share my experiences with you.

GQueues

https://www.gqueues.com/

I am always looking to improve my time management skills especially capturing new tasks and prioritizing them. I’ve tried all manor of software and even as recently as 2 months ago, I was using a hybrid online-paper solution. Then a client turned me on to GQueues. Although not a Google product, you must have a Gmail account to make use of GQueues.  It is billed as “A full-featured online task manager for your Google Account and Google Apps account”. GQueues is fine as a stand alone task manager. It’s Getting Things Done friendly http://gettingthingsdone.com/ and similar to other online task…

View original 673 more words

Letting the Rest Roll

Let it be known that I’ve been slacking off.  Really, I have.  I feel it.  Because I’ve needed to slack off, to be honest.

One, I’ve been tired a lot.  The last couple of nights I’ve taken sleeping pills–just one each night–to help me get through the night and not wake up at three-thirty AM with no chance of getting back to bed.  I’ve managed to get some sleep out of these nights, and even though I was awake at four AM needing to use the bathroom, I went right back to sleep and woke up only moments before the alarm went off.

Two, I’ve been distracted of late by wanting to do things, be it watch TV, read, get out of the house and travel–anything.  I’ve needed to change up my routine for some time now, and it’s great for recharging.  Tonight I’ll go out and do a little grocery shopping, and when that’s over I’m going to stop at Panera, get something to eat–probably a big bowl of soup–and then set up my computer and write.  I did this last week and plopped down a thousand words; I want to finish this scene I’m in, start on the next, and maybe finish it as well.  Because I’m moving ahead.

Annie's letting me know I better get her scene finished, because . . . well, because.

Annie’s letting me know I better get her scene finished, because . . . well, because.

And, admittedly, I enjoy the break.  Which leads into–

Three:  I’ve been feeling a lot burned out.  I’m two hundred and thirty thousand words into the novel, maybe two-thirds of the way through, and after ten months I’m ready for something else.  This is the doldrums part of the story, where you want to keep pushing, but you also want to do something else.  You’ve lived with these people for so long it’s like having guests who never go away, and just like you want the Guests Who Wouldn’t Leave to pack up their shit and move on, I’m ready for another project.

Not that I hate what I’m doing, but like anything else where you do it over and over every day, it starts to wear you down.  I feel that what may be needed is an adjustment of schedules.  Set aside the time I need to do something, and do it then.  I’m thinking Wednesday afternoon is going to become a new writing time for me for the next few months.  After that I’ll find something else to help with the time.

My fear is taking a break from writing for a week or two.  I’ve done that in the past, and when I have I’ve managed to take a month off and get back into things without a problem.  Then again, I’ve also taken a break that lasted years, and I don’t want that to happen.  Because I’ve got the story where I want it, and I don’t have time to take a year off from this project.  Sure, I might be able to get other things done, but I want to finish this story.

Let me correct that:  I need to finish this.

Because it’s too damn important to put to the side.  No matter how I feel right now.