The wood between worlds

Ten points to anyone who figures out the allusion referenced in the title. Don't ask me where you can use the points, though!

Normally, I write my blog in class. Today's Tuesday, so no class. Yet, here I am. I'm in one of those places where I don't know quite what to feel. As though my feelings need definition or permission to come out. How presumptuous of me to think so! I should be tired... and I am, but not mind-numbingly exhausted, though I think I should be. I'm still on my routine -- observing classroom behavior, going to work, coming home. Schoolwork fits in there somewhere, but there's no defined space. Days are long. So why am I still awake? Maybe because instead of blogging, I wrote a few paragraphs on the new manuscript.

A few paragraphs on bell-ringing. Almost in a Pavlovian sense, in that when a bell sounds, we expect to move. Perhaps to a new thing or whatever. We American students of a certain age equate that happy buzz with getting to the next class. We know we have mere minutes to get from point A to point B. Every step is calculated -- down to the potty break between classes. The snaking tentacles of that noise touches teachers too. A new set of faces and the drama that accompanies change. In my story, the bell is for the teachers. It never sounds when students are in school because these students are la creme de la creme and don't need anything as trite as a bell to signal them to move on. I don't know if this is going to remain an element in my book, but it's there today. For my heroine, it's a signal of mounting discontent -- a signal that she needs change. A theme, if you will. Mind you, she's never been afraid of change but it was much easier to roll with the punches when she wasn't under her mom's watchful eye.

Let's recap. So far, I've told you it's a multi-cultural cast with a drop dead sexy implant from England. They work at a posh school in C-Springs, as some of my dear co-workers call my new hometown. And there's a murder. I'm excited and nervous about where these folks will take me. I want to write so bad, but in my scant snatches of time that's just not possible. Yes, I know I could be writing that now instead of the blog but that takes more mental power than I have at the moment.

My question to you, dear readers is what is your bell? What is your signal to move onward and upward? And how do you respond to the buzz? Does it niggle at you and create a stirring of resentment or do you formulate a plan to use that few minutes between classes to do something productive? Inquiring minds and all...

Garscon! Some cheese with my whine please!

I'm exhausted.

And I have only myself to blame. Last night, my DH decided he wanted to go out to eat. He was happy and wanted to celebrate, and honestly, what better way to celebrate than to eat? Enter the whine... Now, I work late and I had a term paper to finish. How in hell did I finish the first Master's? I told DH about my workload, but he wanted so much to go out. I figured I could lose an hour and still get to bed by midnight.

Yeah. How 'bout no! I lost three prime hours of study time. THREE frikken hours! And then DH said he was tired. Those of you who've met me know I'm a little bit crazy. When we're having a good time, crazy translates to fun. When I get angry, I'm a true nutbag. I snap. My head spins and DH swears I speak foreign languages. Well, I spoke Greek last night, boy. Little ears were around so I wasn't speaking advanced Greek, but DH got an earful.

Then I got to go downstairs and work on my paper. And that is the extent of my writing for the last two weeks. I've thought about my books and I even think I know who my murderer is and who's the victim. That excites me so much I may forgo an hour or two of sleep just to get those scenes down. Then again, maybe not.

What do you do when Mr. or Ms. Jekyll pays a visit? Maybe the better question is what do your loved ones do? I got my murderer out of it, so maybe I should thank my husband for taking me to crazy town. Can you write angry?

Who shall I be when I grow up?

The last post was absolutely dismal. I make no apologies as it was honest, but man alive, I hate being depressing! So what's new on the writer front? Another rejection. The last I had out. It was a nice rejection. Of course, I have yet to receive one that says don't quit your day job. Instead of ranting and whining about why I suck, I sent out more queries. This writing business, and I do mean business, is a test of resilience. I am getting excited about the coming conference in November. I can't wait to leave work and do something that's all about me. All the weekends of overtime were killing me, and I've got more ahead, but instead of those hours equating to extra groceries or gas money that money will be dedicated to my coming excursions. After all, writing and sci-fi conferences don't pay for themselves!

On the work front, besides the overtime, I'm still vacillating between hating it and being in like. I spend more time with my workmates than I do my family, and as a mom that's difficult for me. Two sides of myself are fighting at all times and I don't know how to reconcile them. I work with people who plan prospective children around the peak seasons at work. Since I have only one planned child, to say I don't understand that sort of calculation is an understatement. As I drove to work this morning, I thought about my life and realized I've been a mom forever. Now, we all know this isn't true, but there aren't too many memories I have that aren't about or involving my children. I think I will be the most boring person alive when I don't have little people to cook for or admonish/cajole into cleaning their rooms. Sure, I can maintain my fledgling career as a karaoke diva but that will only take me so far. Eventually, people will stop indulging my need to be on stage.

Without a life and the people who propel me forward, what kind of writer will I be? One of those who writes dry books even I don't want to read. Good grief! So I'll have to do something amazingly interesting that will fuel stories for years to come. Recommendations anyone?

Moving forward

My apologies for this incoherent post. My mind is Swiss cheese, so read at your own peril...

The writer's life is a difficult one. In the past month, I've dealt with death and disappointment. The latter stemming from both a lack of writing and more rejection. Yep, the dreaded R's came through the PO box this week. Yes, I'm disappointed by the turn-downs, but I'm even more disappointed in myself for not writing as much as I would have liked. What's funny is that I don't know when I could have squeezed the novel writing in. Between the school work and work work? Going to school is my bridge to the future I desire, so the papers must be done. Work pays the bills, so I can't exactly give that up either.

I'm running out of agents to query. All my faves have returned rejections. I know they are busy, but I can't help wishing I knew why. There are so many BRILLIANT writers out there whose work faces the same fate as mine. I know realistically my dream may never find fulfillment, yet I write. I can't stop, but I wonder if I should just focus on my day job. I think my writing is good, but I'm biased, aren't I? My husband say my last book, well the book before last, is good. He's flabbergasted as to why no one wants to see more of my work. His support is beyond nice because I know he won't lie to me. He told me pretty plain out that my first book sucked. I was okay with that. Maybe not okay because it was the book of my heart, but it is so skewed and un-ready for publication. I appreciate his honesty, and maybe one day I'll re-work the book and it will be the YA novel I envisioned it to be. For now, I'm focusing on moving forward and trying not to get swamped in the mires of PMS.

I am tired of rejection. I get it everyday at the job and I get it from people in the world I so desperately want to be part of. Life would be so much easier if I could give up and accept the fate that the Universe seems to be dealing me. Why do I have to be stubborn? I wanted to go to my writing conference this year. Finally, it looks as though that might not be a dream but reality. My dear husband finally got a job. I will have money to go-- to pay for last minute plane tickets and the conference fee even. But what do I have to offer? I feel like I should be able to present something if I go. It dawned on me that since the last conference, I have written another book. I do have something to show for my year. I started writing the third book on the plane home from that conference in fact. I've tried to avoid looking at the conference website because I didn't want to get excited for nothing. I am excited though. Maybe everyone will hate it as much as the last. Maybe someone will love it and want to see more. I don't know. What I do know is that if I don't give myself a chance, I'll be in the same place I am now. Wondering what I should do with my life. Wondering what I'll be when I grow up. I hate not knowing. So Miss Julie, it looks like I will see you in November. If for no other reason than to touch the energy of people like myself -- writers who write because that is simply what they do.

That stupid inner voice is telling me to give up. To switch jobs because deep down I want to be venerated and loved by the people I deal with. To stop writing toward publication because who in hell would actually want to read my books. To just plain give up. Maybe I'm too stubborn or too stupid to listen. I can't stop writing. The job may go but I won't fight the writing diva. Last week I wrote half of my first chapter and I was excited about the book. I have no idea where it's going, but I'm excited because it was fun and the release I needed. The release the characters needed. I don't know where to query, and I keep seeing the words of the contest judge who told me the time for my story is now. I cling to that response because that judge is in the industry and knows what's hot. At the same time, I have to wonder why none of the agents agree. Perhaps it's a case of querying the wrong people at the wrong time. I'm spinning my wheels here, folks! I have one query out. A query to a publishing house. God, I would feel vindicated if they said they wanted to see more!

I feel so fortunate to know writers who've stood on the crux of success, bearing the weight of sticking with their day job and writing. Those who have stuck with it through the disappointment and moved forward are now enjoying fulfillment as real published writers. It could be that my last book is the one that connects with agents, publishers and the reading public. Maybe the book before last is destined for dust bunny heaven like the first. Who knows? But I will never get even a semblance of a clue by remaining sequestered in four walls... or my cubicle at work, or any confined space. I'm afraid, but I'm moving forward. So what do you say, dear readers? What do you do when facing life change? Advice, anyone? I'm in desperation here!