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I’m not a big fan of the term writer’s block because the word block tends to make me feel like the problem is insurmountable. And if I walk around telling myself I’m completely blocked … I will be. The situation will only get worse. Because tomorrow, you’re not going to be as eager to write because you have the word BLOCK stuck in your head. The day after that will be even harder until so much time has passed and you’re afraid to even face the blank page. So the question becomes how to avoid the big, bad block.

Every writer I have ever known has faced at least a few bad moments where the words are hard to find, and there are posts all over the internet about how to get around the block. But how do you know which method is going to be most effective? How can you keep trying if you keep failing to get words on the page? For me, it all boils down to one little word … Why?

When the words dry up and I am staring at the page, rather than get frustrated, I start looking for the reason. There is always a reason. And once I figure out the reason, the writing resumes. People have different ways of dealing with the words drying up and that will be the topic for another post. The method most effective for me is to walk away from the screen, put my headphones on, and go for a walk. While I’m on the walk, I don’t furiously think about the book I’m writing or actively try to figure out the issue — I put the brain on autopilot and listen. My brain is much smarter than I am, and if I give it a chance, it always gives me the reason.

Here are some of the reasons the words can dry up:

1. Not knowing the characters well enough. If I don’t know the characters well, then how can I possibly tell their story with any conviction?
2. Not knowing where the story is going. You can know your characters well, but if you don’t know what they are doing next, you might need to take a break and let them tell you.
3. Not listening to your characters. This may depend on the type of writer you are. In my writing, the characters drive the story forward. So when I know my characters and know where we’re going, sometimes I get on a roll writing, and stop listening to them … until we come to a screeching halt. Once I listen I learn I didn’t have the full story.
4. Impostor Syndrome. Show me a writer, and I’ll show you someone who has had at least a few moments of doubt along their journey. So many don’t feel like a real writer because of X, Y, or Z. It’s hard to keep moving forward when you feel like a fake. If this is the reason, then you have to remind yourself that the act of putting words on the page means you ARE a writer. Good, bad, or indifferent … you are writing, so therefore a writer. Bad or indifferent writing can be edited — a blank page cannot be.
5. Fear. This comes in many forms. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of people hating your work. Fear of not realizing you are terrible. Fear of putting yourself out there for the public to criticize. If you never finish, you never have to face these fears.

Once you understand the reason you have stopped writing, you can take action to overcome whatever the issue is, and once you do that, the words will flow again.

The post YWS: The Big Bad Block appeared first on Be the Cat.

At twelve, I was an athlete — softball and swimming — and I couldn’t figure out how I could excel in things requiring hand/eye coordination and trip over a non-existent shoelace. MUCH later in life, I finally figured out that when doing activities not requiring any concentration, like walking from the kitchen to the family room, my brain feels free to wander so the chair leg my eyes see doesn’t register until after I have tripped over it.

Rhonda is the same when it comes to her klutziness … wrapped up in another world while moving through this one. A recipe for disaster in the making.

The scene from 7th Grade Revolution:

Rhonda picked up her things and hurried to the aisle. She tripped on the chair leg at the end of the row and fell flat. Ouch. It happened so fast she didn’t have a chance to break her fall. She put her hands flat on the floor next to her side and pushed up to a sitting position. Her boobs weren’t big, but falling on them hurt. A sneaker stood about two inches from her hand. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, afraid to see who she’d taken a pratfall in front of.

Dang. She’d flopped at Spencer Jackson’s feet.

“Way to go, Grace.” His arms shot out straight and he moaned. “Oooh. Zombies are coming to get you.” He stepped over her legs with a snicker.

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“Ideas can come from anywhere and at any time. The problem with making mental notes is that the ink fades very rapidly.” – Rolf Smith

The bane of the writer’s existence is the idea that arrives at an inconvenient time. I don’t think I’ve ever had a story show up while I’m sitting in front of my keyboard, hands poised over the keys, ready to dash down the idea as it forms. Ideas show up in the middle of the night as dreams, or wake you from a sound sleep with a mind blast of a brilliant idea you’re CERTAIN you’ll remember in the morning. Then morning comes and you struggle to clear the fog away to remember the unforgettable. Ideas come while driving, walking, taking a shower, in the middle of a conversation, on a bike ride. They come from all places: dreams, the lyrics of a song, a two-second sound byte of a news story, a newspaper headline, an article on the internet, an overheard snippet of conversation, and completely out of the blue as if by lightning strike.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a single writer I know state they are going to go sit in front of their computer and come up with a brilliant idea to write about. Invariably, the idea has come and we are itching to get to a keyboard and get it down. BUT what happens when you’re brain is a magnet that collects more ideas than you can write at the moment? How do you capture the idea, especially the one flitting through the night? Most writers I know have a list of story ideas they work from. And once they get started on one from their list, invariably a shiny new idea makes its presence known.

Some keep a notepad and pen on their nightstand to capture those middle of the night revelations and travel everywhere with a notebook or journal for capturing the ideas as they arrive. A friend of mine uses a recording device in the same way. Because thoughts can be elusive. My method is this: survival of the fittest … up to a point. If I have a dream or an idea wakes me in the middle of the night, I don’t jot it down. I wait until morning and if the idea is truly one meant to be captured, I’ll remember, or it will come back. Because my stories that are waiting to be written can be pests. They don’t leave me alone until they have been properly documented and saved in a file.

I used to document the ideas in a word document, jotting down as much of the story as I got at the moment, and adding to the document as more thoughts for the story arrived. I have since modified to using OneNote because I can post a segment of an article from the internet and the URL of the article is automatically captured, or if I explain my idea to anyone, or something develops during an email conversation, when I copy and paste the pertinent bit into the document, it links to the email exchange — which can come in handy. I can also save pictures for character representation and have multiple pages to document things like setting, character background, etc. so organization is much cleaner.

Once I document what I need to, I close the file and go back to what I’m working on. Sometimes it takes years before I get around to the story, but in the meantime, as ideas occur related to the story, I have a place to keep them so I don’t forget. My brain happens to be one of those idea magnets, so my list is always huge, but when I’m ready to work on something new, I never lack for something to write about. How do you capture your ideas?

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Things I am Thankful For

• My childhood — Despite the normal grumblings of a child, my childhood was good. No major hardships, loving parents, good schools, the freedom to explore, a neighborhood where everyone looked out for everyone else.
• My mother — I honestly cannot say enough about this woman. She overcame several hardships in her life and made a vow her children would never have to deal with the things she did. And we didn’t. Whenever I might think I have reason to complain about what life has to offer, I look at her example and realize I have not only nothing to complain about, but owe her a debt that can never be repaid for her being the person she is. She is, and always has been, one of the most positive influences in my life. My support, giving me my roots to ground me and the wings to fly.
• My sister and her family — They are very near and dear to my heart. As a kid I waited a long time for my sister to show up and have always considered her an extremely special part of my life and heart.
• My characters — Without them I would have no stories to share and my life would be far less rich. Their whispers in my ear give my life purpose and joy.
• My literary manager — The woman who not only took a chance on representing me and my work, but crawled out on my tree limb with me to enjoy the view. She has a unique understanding of my work, sometimes knowing more about it than I do about where it is headed. And she has brought me opportunities I would not otherwise have had, challenged me to stretch as an author, and has cheered me on in all endeavors.
• Team Timmy — Working on a children’s chapter book series is one of those opportunities given to me by my literary manager, and I couldn’t be happier with the team we have working on the project. It truly is a collaboration and together we are putting something special together. Each member of the team brings their own magic to the project and I am thankful and blessed to have these people in my life.
• My business partner — I wouldn’t have jumped off the cliff with anyone else and while the past year has been a roller coaster, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
• Section K and Cal State Fullerton Baseball — For bringing me many friendships I might not otherwise have had and a sense of family in the stands, plus hours of enjoyment as the team battles to win. Inspiring in those moments when you see a player give it their all for the love of the game.
• My doctors — Though ill, I am thankful to have such good caretakers who are diligent, knowledgeable, and care about ensuring the right things are done at the right time to combat the challenges I face.
• The writing community — The internet has provided the wonderful opportunity to connect with those who share my passion. You are my people.
• My day job — While offering challenges every work day, I have a roof over my head and food on the table, and consider myself blessed to have the benefits I do.
• Long-time friends — You know who you are. The wonderful people I can connect with at a moment’s notice and we can pick up our friendship without losing a beat. The people I know I can call on in any crisis and those I know will always be there for me.
• My best friend — Words fail me when I try to express how much this friend means to me because there are too many things I want to say and they all jumble up in a big ol’ knot and get stuck. So I will simply say that I am blessed and do not know what I did to deserve such a fabulous friend, but it must have been HUGE. Without you I am lost.

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Previously, I spoke about being a plotter or a pantster and how I fall in the middle of the spectrum. I’d like to add that for me, every book is different. Some require much more detailed planning in advance of starting, others simply have to be written and forget the outline you dashed down because we’re going on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride with this one.

I am very much a character-driven writer, so no matter whether well-plotted out or using the sketchiest outline possible, I need to know my characters well. They need to become real people to me. I imagine different scenarios, outside the story line, to see how they will react. I have imaginary conversations with my characters to get a sense of who they are and what their opinions and attitudes are.

Not all authors have to know their characters like I do, but for me, if my characters are not real people to me, I can’t write the story. So before I put one word on the page, I will spend a lot of time staring at the screen, the ceiling, off into space … listening for my characters to speak. One method that usually works for me is putting in headphones and going for a walk. Or going for a long drive. Until I know WHO I’m working with, I don’t have their story.

Writing the story is just the beginning. Once you get the story down on paper (or on a computer file), you then go back and re-read and revise. You are looking for mistakes (like missing words) as well as changing some of the story. EVERY writer makes changes to their work because they always find something that they want to change, something that will make it better. No one starts with a story that doesn’t need changes. It doesn’t matter how many times I review a story, I will always see something I want to change, so for me the hard part is determining when the story is polished.

One writing teacher I had stated the ability to write a story was the ability to keep your behind in the chair long enough. Inspiration of what to write is the wonderful part because your brain is bubbling with ideas and they take hold and haunt you until you put them down on paper. Then comes the work of staying in a chair long enough to get the whole story down — and to review it more times than you can count.

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I’d like to share with you a little about the writing process. Of course, I can’t tell you how all authors write, but I can share my process as well as those of some authors I know.

There is a popular theory that if you had a room of monkeys typing on a keyboard and infinite amount of time, they would be able to replicate all of the great works of fiction or indeed any book ever written. It is called the infinite monkey theorem—and the idea has always tickled me because I cannot conceive of a roomful of well-behaved monkeys sitting for as long as it would take to create the complete works of Shakespeare. Jesse Anderson created a fun visualization of what it would take for the monkeys to recreate Shakespeare … hover the cursor over the text and the box on the right shows how many attempts it would take to create the highlighted phrase. And at the bottom of this post I have included a computer simulation of how those random phrases might occur. So I guess my biggest problem is not having enough monkeys to do the writing for me.

Another theory is that to write a story, you start at the beginning, keep writing until you reach the end and then stop. This sounds easy, but when you start to put the words down all sorts of questions start cropping up. What is the beginning? How will I know when to end? How do I get from the beginning to the end? Getting started is tough when looking at the blank page, but sometimes knowing when the story is done is even harder. YIKES!!

Some authors create a very detailed outline of their story before they start to write it. They need to know every plot point before they can start writing the story. Once they have all of the details mapped out, they put the words on the page and the characters in the story follow the map. They are called plotters.

Some authors don’t know where the writing is going to take them, they don’t map out their story line first, but just start with a concept (a setting, a character, an event) and see where it takes them. They approach writing with a “let’s see what happens next” attitude. They are called pansters.

I actually fit in between the two. I need to know the basics of my story, but as I write, there are twists that happen that I didn’t know were going to happen. It’s almost like the story takes on a life of its own and the characters go in directions that I didn’t know they were going to go in, but eventually, they meet me back at the story line that I started with. It’s fun when your characters start taking on a life of their own, because at that point, they start writing the story for you. Maybe I do have monkeys in a room somewhere. Or maybe I’m the monkey.

Another thing to keep in mind, is how you approach the story may depend on the story itself. Some take more planning and others need to be left more to where the characters take you. Where do YOU fall on the spectrum? What is your writing comfort zone?

The post YWS: How Writers Write – Take 1 appeared first on Be the Cat.

Thank you for stopping by for this week’s Writing Process Blog Tour!

This is a travelling blog tour that pops up every Monday for writers to share a little about what, how and why they write. If you’re a writer, I hope it cheers you on on your journey — and if you’re not, hopefully it will give you some little insight into the lives of the people who create the stories you love.

Thanks so much to the wonderful Anna Tan for inviting me to participate. Anna and I met in the wilds of Twitter when it was still shiny and new. She’s incredibly supportive of the writing community and with each passing year, I admire this woman more. She dabbles in a broad spectrum of writing, including poems, scripts, novels, and flash fiction. I am always in awe of anyone who tackles flash fiction and short stories — mainly because I’ve never written a short story that didn’t want to stretch into a novel. I encourage you to drop by her blog and check out her writing process.

Now on to the questions.

What am I working on?

Right at the moment I’m working on editing some projects for mates at Gandolfo Helin Literary. It has been a great learning experience and has helped me to get to know some of my agency mates better in a short period of time. I can’t really talk about what the projects are, only that once they’re out, you’re going to love them.

In addition to the edits, I’m prepping to work on my next novel, which will be a stand-alone, upper YA, that goes darker places than my current works. The idea came to me in 2010 as I was driving to work. The sun was shining on the palm trees as I drove down the backside of Disneyland, and I was enjoying the cool of the morning, when BAM! I had this idea in my head so strongly I nearly pulled over to catch my breath. So I’ve been living with this idea for four years, mulling over aspects of it while working on other things, getting flashes of scenes here and there, and I’m beyond excited to know I will finally have a chance to test my mettle as a writer and get this one down on the page. My goal is to start drafting sometime in June.

How does my work differ from others in its genre?

I primarily write for the younger side of YA and the older side of Middle Grade, (the new book I just mentioned being an exception to this), while the bulk of YA is targeted at slightly older readers, so that is one difference. I also have a distinctive writing style, which makes it easy for readers to “see” what’s going on in the story, and helps them connect on an emotional level to the characters.

I’ll hear writers talk about their works in progress and whether they are plotters (making sure they have an outline to work from, character sketches, etc.) or pansters (start writing and see where the story takes them) they will mention something about making their character(s) do something. I can’t make my characters do anything. If we argue about it, I lose. Every. Time. You see, the characters come to me and tell me their story, and while sometimes I have to pull it out of them, I don’t “make” them do anything. My role is that of scribe. I listen to what they say, and my job is to transcribe everything and get it all cleaned up to show their story in the truest form I possibly can.

Why do I write what I do?

This question made me smile because I can recall having a conversation on Twitter where a friend pushed me to say why I write. We had been discussing reasons why certain books grabbed readers attention and I mentioned that I just wrote the stories that came to me. As the author, I’m way too close to the story and have a difficult time seeing the outward reaching value of my work. The work is so intensely personal to me, and when anything is personal, I dive inward. But when pushed on it, I went off on a rant at 140 characters at a time to say exactly why I write what I do. The stories come to me for a reason. Of that I am certain. They are meant to reach kids (and adults) and have them connect with my characters. The circumstances may not be the same, but the readers can connect to the emotions and feelings of my characters and realize they are not alone in this crazy, mixed-up world. I write for the age group I do, because they are trying to figure out who they are, who they want to be, and are faced with having to leave childhood behind and begin stepping into adulthood. It’s a time when most kids have confusion, feel unloved, like they are so incredibly different and not normal, and they so desperately want to fit in, to be one of the group. Even those who are at the center of the “group” have doubts, insecurities, and overwhelming emotions. My books are written to say – “Hey, you’re not alone.” And sometimes, that’s all they need to know. That someone else has experienced the same feelings they have … and made it through. I write because my characters need a voice. I write because I have to.

How does my writing process work?

Different. Every. Time. With each and every book my writing process has been different. Up until writing the fourth book in a series, I could say that if nothing else, I started at the beginning wrote to the end, then stopped. However, writing the fourth book, I started with scenes that are at the end of the book, as well as one scene that has been pushed into book five, and I wrote significant chunks out of order. I used to say I always write with a loose outline — which I normally do, but then hit a Middle Grade where I didn’t use one — couldn’t use one.

The characters come to me, tell me their story. I generally jot down some notes, figure out how the timeline runs, and then start writing. Even when I outline prior to starting, the outline is then tucked away, and I let the story take its course with the characters leading me the entire way. My job is to crawl inside the heads of my characters and share their experience on the page. In essence, my writing process is sitting my butt in a chair and keeping it there until I’m done. Then I put the manuscript away for a few weeks while working on other things (I always have other projects to work on.) Then I take it out, read it through and see what kind of book I have. I tend to be a bare bones drafter, getting down only the essentials, and then afterward go back and add some of the descriptive passages, giving setting, making the story more full-flavored. Then the fun begins.

Once I’m through massaging some of the passages and building up sections that need it, I run my manuscript through an editing software and create a spreadsheet to edit by. I call it the evil spreadsheet because it points out everything — evil. But because it helps me to see things I otherwise would not, I love it as well. I also highlight all known repetitive words because the highlights help me see where I need to restructure sentences. Once I get through the “technical” edits, I read the story aloud for pace and flow. (If you don’t do this, it is probably my number one suggestion to help you catch things that need fixing.) After that round, I start from the back and read it backwards paragraph by paragraph. It helps you focus on the sentence level out of context, so your familiarity with the story hinders you less. And finally, I put it on my Kindle and have the robotic voice read it to me. I’m always amazed at what I catch this way. Then the manuscript is ready to be sent to a trusted critique partner for her to slash it up for me, and then beta readers for feedback. Then after dealing with the feedback, I feel like I have accomplished the goal of writing a book.

Thanks so much for stopping by, it’s been fun. Don’t forget to stop by these two good friends of mine next week, to hear about their writing process.

Eisley Jacobs and I met on Twitter, and then I had the lovely privilege of meeting her in person at Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers (RMFW) Colorado Gold Conference in Denver, and have managed to see her smiling face a few times since then – whenever we can get together. The first thing I think about when thinking about Eisley is her tremendous spirit. She has a passion and enthusiasm for projects which amazes me. She conceives of the idea and then she’s doing it. I remember her tweeting about her heart being drawn to Ethiopia, and a couple months later she was on a plane with a mission group to help the Ethiopian people. She has a tremendous heart, and in her writing you find the same passion, enthusiasm, and heart.

Monica Enderle Pierce and I met on Twitter via the #wipfire hashtag, which has sadly faded away. We used it to post lines from our current projects and critique each others work — the writing community coming together to help one another. It was truly a wonderful thing. I became captivated by Monica’s writing ability through the snippets posted during our wipfire sessions, and we since then have become very good friends. A few years ago, I took a driving vacation and hunted Monica down to spend a wonderful weekend chatting, wandering around taking in nature, and writing, of course. And have been back to see her when I was in town for the Story Chairs opening. Blessed with a sharp wit, and an incredible writing talent, Monica weaves a story to keep readers turning the pages.

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I realized a few days ago that I had been so tired I forgot to have my dandelion tea, which is probably why I’m still retaining excess water. I don’t know if it’s the changing weather or just that the chemo is hitting me harder this month … but I do know, I don’t like feeling this tired. I want to crawl into the castle in the picture and sleep for about a month. And at the same time, I want to get things accomplished. Not once in my entire life have I ever accomplished more than dreams and ideas while sleeping. Which by the way, I don’t want to give up the dreams and ideas, they help fuel my writing.

Not to go on and on whining about my tiredness, I have had some bright spots to my week. Even late this afternoon as my energy level was plunging, I figured out a possible solution for something in the day job, so I’ll be ready to tackle it and see whether I can make it a reality on Monday. I’ve been doing some research for my newest story and found out some important information about my main character this week. And, of course, the brightest spot to the week was signing with Italia Gandolfo of Gandolfo Helin Literary Management.

Other than being plum tuckered, I’m doing well. My blood values remain good, and I’m feeling well—except for the fatigue. Yesterday and today have been marginally better energy-wise, but tonight I may just lean back and stare at the ceiling for a while (otherwise known as pre-plotting) .

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Today was one of those days where the simple act of crawling out of bed was a major triumph. (My apologies in advance for all the bleary-eyed typos that may creep into this post.) I don’t get it. Night before last I had a horrible night of sleep. I was restless, tossed and turned, woke up every half hour to hour, not a good night. You’d expect that I’d be tired, right? Wrong. Yesterday I had energy, got things done for the day job, got a couple things accomplished last night, and when I finally started to yawn, I went to bed. At a reasonable hour. I slept really well last night, but morning came and crawling really is the best description for how I was moving.

You know the feeling… the one where the Mac truck left tire tracks on your back as it drove on through. Not that I was achy, just overwhelmingly tired. If I would have had to drive to work, I don’t think I’d have made it, but when all I have to do is cross the landing, it took me approximately half an hour, but I convinced myself to make the trek.

Day job went the smoothest it has all week, which is not to say smooth, but the past two weeks have been ugly as far as things needing attention. I actually accomplished something new. Not as much as I wanted, but I’ll take accomplishment where I can get it. And the accomplishment is something I’ve been pushing for for several years, so to finally get it implemented was HUGE.

Tom Wolff
Photo: Alptraum

But when the day job was done, I was drained. Completely wrung out. I was ready for bed at 6 o’clock, but knew better than to give into the urge, and didn’t want to take a nap for the same reason. If I went to bed at 6, I’d be up at 2 or 3 AM staring at the ceiling in the dark. And then my sleep pattern would get all messed up… and it is a delicate little beast, so I don’t like to mess it up more than I can help. There remained the question of what to do with myself for the evening. But then Tom (the guy in the picture is my vision of Katie’s best friend, Tom) showed up and flooded me with a scene. I had to write. I didn’t know whether I’d be putting gibberish on the page or not because I was so bleary-eyed and exhausted I wanted to face-plant on the desk. But I had to trust the instinct driving me.

I am soooooo glad I did. Tom kept talking, I plugged in some Christmas tunes, which were a little at odds with the scene we were going through, but it somehow worked. Funnily enough, the more I wrote, the less tired I became. A little over 1,500 words later, I stopped. The characters were still talking, but I needed to take a moment because one was trying to take the spotlight, and my gut said that was the wrong direction. And I wasn’t ready to work with the next character—who is frankly a pain and I knew I wouldn’t do him justice tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

Poor Tom is having such a rough time, and I’m so proud of him. He usually bottles up his feelings, but this time let me hear them loud and clear. When I realized we had completed a few necessary scenes (and even one unexpected one) I was ready to break into the Hallelujah chorus. This was the most I’ve been able to accomplish word-wise, story-wise since finding out I needed chemo. FINALLY!! I don’t have the words to say how good this feels. I was trying not to despair that I wasn’t writing… but it is probably the most difficult thing for me to battle. I’m missing part of me without the writing.

So tonight, I feel whole. And other than the CLL sweats when it’s 45 degrees, I feel pretty normal, too. And tired, but not the sheer exhaustion that plagued me all day. Good tired. Accomplished tired. Ready for sleep.

Good Night. May your dreams be sweet or if they’re not at least a good plot for a novel.

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This may be a short post (but knowing me, it won’t be ) A few days ago, I talked about getting my hair chopped off because it has become quite bushy and out of control, and for those who have not yet met me in person, I have a ton of hair. I have been waiting to get it cut because I needed to know whether I was going to add pink to it … and since I won’t be, I decided it could all get cut off and then I’ll grow it out again. This picture doesn’t quite do it justice as far as showing the out-of-controlness that has taken over my head. For once it was behaving, but it does show some of the waves I have in my hair, as well as the fact that I take terrible pictures of myself. Oh, you can also see my puffy eyes—my eyes are small, but they are not that small. Allergies have been trying to take up residence and I am battling them back as best I can. They are NOT welcome here.

The picture at the top of this piece speaks to me about the leaves of change. The fall has always been an exciting time of change. And this fall has been no different. The old things fall away to make room for those things new. For me, the cutting of my hair is symbolic of the changes going on. I needed at the very least a trim, but the idea to go short took hold for several reasons. The root of which is that I do like to do different things with my hair, and since it’s not the best idea to color it for awhile, I wanted to do something, and going short gives me a different versatility than when shoulder length or to my waist. And here’s the best thing of all … it’ll grow back if I want it to. My hair is a change I can control (or at least have the illusion of control) when right now so many things in my body are not within my control. AND it was a blast getting it cut. If I can’t have fun with this, then what is the point?

The stylist knew I had a strong wave in my hair, but she was surprised by the amount of curl that came out. She had so much fun playing with it while cutting it. I’ve dealt with it’s stubborn curliness for too many years to be surprised. Wearing it long does help to tame it a bit, so now it’ll have the chance to live life on the wild side. And believe it or not, the long hair helped to hide some of the eye puffiness. (I should not be allowed to try taking self-portraits, but I wanted to post the before and after pics)

All in all, it was a good day. I worked this morning and accomplished a few things… always good. Then I had my hair cut and picked up the girls (my dogs, Phoenix and Elsa) from the groomers. Next Denny and I watched REDS 2 and laughed throughout. I have made the sweet potatoes (my contribution to tomorrow’s feast) and my mother arrived safely at her destination despite holiday traffic and suspect weather forecasts.

It is now Thanksgiving … and I have so MUCH to be thankful for, so here goes. I’m Thankful for:

• My family—I love them so much and they are there for me when I need them. From immediate to extended, I do count on them. And my pups are always there for me (and a part of my family) and when I’m down, they curl up beside me and I feel better.
• Friends—I have been blessed in the friends I have. I marvel almost every day over the people in my life and how supportive and caring they are. I hope I am as good a friend to them.
• The writing community—although I count so many of you as friends, I wanted to express my thankfulness for having a community I can reach out to when celebrating the good things, and to help me over the stump when things aren’t going as well. For the most part, I see writers helping writers, and I love that.
• My Characters—Without them, I wouldn’t be who I am … a little off-center, but they help me tell the stories that will have an impact.
• My day job—I am thankful to have a workplace and work that fulfills me in addition to allowing me to earn a paycheck. It helps me so much, especially right now, to have a job to focus on when I can’t focus on other things.
• My doctors—They will see me through this bump in the road and help make me stronger on the other side of it.
• For Chemotherapy—While it may make me feel sick, I am so thankful science has developed drugs that will help my sick body become better. Several years ago this would not have been possible. In fact, several years ago, I wouldn’t have even known I was sick and we wouldn’t know that something needed to be done. I’d just continue to feel unwell and that something was vaguely wrong.
• For being alive—I have always been thankful for each and every day I’ve been given. Most days are good ones, and as long as I can say that, I will continue to feel blessed.

There are so many more things I’m thankful for, but I simply cannot list them all. I have been blessed by all I have been given and hope that I pass those blessings along to others. That is my goal in life.

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Last night I was finishing up some work stuff and trying to figure out what my evening would look like, when I smelled a waxy, unscented, burning candle-like smell coming from downstairs. Denny was downstairs puttering around in the kitchen getting ready for work (he worked graveyard last night). Next thing I know, Elsa (my little blonde pup) is upstairs, plumping both paws on my left leg, giving me the full pick me up treatment and panting hard. I told her no and gently pushed her paws aside. She then ran around to my right leg and repeated her performance. I again told her I wasn’t picking her up and asked what was wrong. Usually, she takes my no and curls up at my feet. Not to be denied, she squeezed past my legs onto the small desk shelf and crawled up my legs into my lap.

She was distraught and shaking, so I cuddled her for a few moments and set her down… she crawled into my lap again after running out to the landing to peer down the stairs. I couldn’t figure out what had her so excited and unnerved that she needed to be held.

Until Denny came up the stairs, rack from the toaster over in hand and said, “You know how you always tell me to put a plate under my food …” and showed me how the plastic plate had melted onto the rack. *sigh* He’s right, I have told him once or twice to make sure he puts a plate under whatever he’s heating up … in the microwave.

Why am I telling this story (other than the fact that it is funny and the house didn’t burn down)? It certainly isn’t to make fun of Denny for making a mistake. Or to point out how on the ball Elsa was in trying to alert me to something be wrong down below. The reason I am sharing this story is it so aptly illustrates how Denny is handling the journey with me through cancer and chemotherapy. As I mentioned before this journey is not mine, and mine alone. My health and well-being affects my family and friends, just as theirs affects me. Truthfully, Denny has been having a tougher time of things than I have. Forgetting things (like my 1st chemo appt.), being more tired, making mistakes he would never otherwise make. Like this one.

It’s not like heating things up in the toaster oven is a foreign activity for him. We use the toaster oven on a daily basis … and I mean we and not me. And yes, I recently had to remind him to put something under the food in the microwave—which he also already knows. So why is he so forgetful? Do I think he’s starting to go into early Alzheimer’s territory?

No. I don’t think dementia is setting in. I truly believe he is suffering from worrying too much about how things are going to go with me, and pushing those feelings down instead of talking about the fears. When you suppress so many feelings, and force yourself to be strong, there are negative side effects. He’s suppressing so much right now, he’s close to suppressing everything, so things that you know and take for granted that you know? Gone. One moment you know you need to take your keys to leave in your car… the next, you’re walking out the door without them. Why are you so forgetful? Because your mind is so occupied with keeping those things from you that you’re afraid to deal with or reveal.

I picture his mind much like the picture above. He will have a clear, almost sunny stretch, where lucid thought is easy, and he has his usual firm grasp on the essentials, but then something will trigger a thought about me, and the clouds come rolling in trying to bury the fears by hiding them in the mist. What are his fears? I can only guess. Fear that I will need more care than he feels capable of. Fear of losing me. Fear of my being in pain. In some ways, it is much easier to be the patient. I’ll deal with the hell when it comes, and I won’t be dealing with it alone. But Denny feels like he is alone in what he has to deal with. How can he possibly burden me with his fears? In some respects, he’s right. At the moment, I’d be able to deal with his fears just fine, but depending on how my journey continues, things may reach a point where I wouldn’t be able to help him deal with his fears. (And I’m hoping that won’t happen, and expect that it won’t—so far anyway.) But he’s not alone. And I hope to help him see that. BEFORE the house burns down.

So how am I? Pretty good. Trying to get the sleep disruption under control. Still. Better night last night, but the night before that was pitiful. I have been taking the time not writing to do a little reading. Something I love and need to make more time for. I almost started writing last night. The characters (Tim and Tom) were willing and I had opened up the WIP (Work In Progress), but then I closed it. After getting better pain-wise, my right hand was hurting quite a bit after the full day’s work. The past few days have been a lot of coding work and I have not been wearing my compression glove because it was causing too much pain after removal. Which means I have to take extra care in not wearing out my hands with typing.

I tried to get a hair appointment for tomorrow to get my hair cut off (yes, I’m going short), but my stylist is getting over a cold, so the shearing will happen on Wednesday. Today is better pain wise, but I will also not work tonight for the same reason. By the end of the work day, my nerves in my hand, wrist, and forearm are tingling. Not only that… the tingles are migrating to the left. With the bloating and water retention and the little white cells running around and giving all the other blood cells the pep talk, it would sincerely be nice if my body would allow me a chance to write a little. I think my characters have settled down, and they are starting to talk to me again. But tonight, I will be good, and read.

Tomorrow—I write.

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