Finding Balance/Saying No

Posted under A Writer's Life on November 17th, 2018 by

First of all: Finding balance is hard when you suffer from Meniere’s Disease. Physically, that is. It’s not what this blog post is about, but I thought I’d put that out there.

It’s also hard to find balance, mentally, when you’re a perfectionist. Not to mention being a writer, as well. You want to write the book. You want to finish it in good time. You want it to be perfect. But you can only really pick two of those things. (unless you’re SuperWriter, which I dunno, you might be. I’m definitely not.) You make goals and fail to meet them, which makes you more pedantic about trying to meet the next goal.

It’s been a demanding year for me; but along with a lot of bad stuff, there’s been a lot of good stuff, too. I’ve been learning that it’s okay to say no to people and things; that I don’t have to wear holes in myself trying to be there for everything and everyone. More importantly, I’ve been learning that it’s okay for me to say no to my own unrealistic expectations. Or even those expectations that weren’t necessarily unrealistic, but turned out to be unexpectedly hard to fulfil because life happened.

November has turned out to be a more demanding month than I expected (and I knew I was going to be doing NaNoWriMo, so perhaps you can just imagine how demanding I already thought it was going to be). Last month, I also signed an audio deal for the rights to the first two City Between Books, Between Jobs and Between Shifts, so there has been a lot to do in sending paperwork back and forth, etc. And while that means there should be audio of those two in the reasonably near future, it’s definitely adding heaps to my pile of things-to-do…

November has also been the month of All The Doctors, where W.R. trots out in search of answers to various health complaints that have been ignored for the last 2-3 years. Some of those answers have been forthcoming, and some have not. Medication has also been forthcoming–and, with it, side effects. That, along with the steady work I’ve been doing on Between Floors, has begun to wear me out.

The upshot of all this added busy-ness is that, unfortunately, Between Floors won’t be out until January. I’m so disappointed with that, but I don’t want to rush this one and put it out while it’s still not ready. There are a lot of threads that need to be pulled together in Between Floors, and I want to do it well. I also want to be able to enjoy writing it–and to enjoy my interactions online as a writer. I love talking to you guys on my Facebook and Twitter, but it feels strained when I’m trying to do too much. I want it to be fun to answer my notifications, not a chore. You all make me laugh, and I want to take time to enjoy that.

I also want to get back some balance in my life. I want to be able to keep this blog updated, to not forget things that I said I’d do, get a little time to learn how to advertise, and maybe a smidge of time to do fun stuff like going to concerts and relaxing with my nephew without always thinking of what I still have to do. I want to enjoy reading again without feeling guilty about not being writing. I also want to do well enough at publishing so that I feel comfortable publishing every four months to six months instead of feeling the rush to try and publish every three months and then feeling guilty because I didn’t manage it (again).

I want a bit of brain space again, and I think I’m finally at the point where I can do that. So I hope it won’t be too disappointing to wait another month for Between Floors–I’m certain the results will be worth it in terms of story and structure, and I want to do this series well. I love it a lot, so I don’t want to mess it up.

So this month, I’m going to stop and rest for a bit, finish reading Intisar Khanani’s amazing Thorn (again), and go enjoy the local show that’s on this weekend. I’m going to let myself say no to a few things that are stressing me out, and take it easy. And I’m going to let myself thoroughly enjoy writing Pet’s adventures Between…

You can keep updated with my progress over on my Author Facebook Page, where I’ll still be regularly posting excerpts, updates, and random music videos that I love. And do look forward to January–I promise it will be worth the wait!

Why I Write What I Write (Part Two: Or, The Actual Blog Post)

Posted under A Writer's Life, Musings on July 5th, 2018 by

Okay, here is the actual blog post on Why I Write What I Write…

(…and it’s probably going to be insanely long, too; but since I’ve already apologised in advance, you have no grounds for complaint if you’re still here).

Be aware that there’s gunna be a lot of talk about God in this post, so if you’re not comfortable with that, run now.

Why do I write what I write?

To answer that, I should probably first clarify what I do write: I write fantasy (fairy tale rewrites and original fantasy), urban fantasy, scifi, and occasionally, a bit of off-beat horror. Ideally, I would love to break into Christian fiction as well; but since the writing is a lot harder to do well, I’ve given myself a few years to grow into being a writer first.

The fact that I don’t, at the moment, write overtly Christian fiction is a bone of contention to several people who don’t know me at all but feel like they should discuss the matter with me, and a few who do know me (or have known me through the years) and are honestly concerned for my soul.

I was very young when the first concerned person asked me to consider if being a writer was a profession I thought was glorifying to God, since that person considered that fiction was lying.

I gave it a lot of thought, being the unsure little person I was; and, more importantly, I prayed about it a lot. I wanted to make sure that I was doing the right thing.

And I’m glad I did. As a Christian, I want everything in my life to honour God, and writing is no exception.

Having prayed for several years about it (and writing all that time on the side while I worked), I came to be convinced that there was nothing inherently wrong with writing, and that there was nothing wrong with what I was writing in particular—or in seeking to pursue it as a profession.

I laid down several standards for myself that I didn’t want to breach, and started to write in earnest, in the best way I could.

Over the years, I’ve had many other such questions.

Why write fiction? Isn’t it just lying? What about the murders that occur in some of your books? Desensitisation?

Remember the parables? They weren’t real life stories, but they certainly weren’t lies, either. They were another way to display truth. I think most Christians would be surprised to hear them called lies.

Murders? Yes, because people do get murdered, and awful things happen. I prefer to write with a sense of hope, but that doesn’t mean that everything between the covers is going to be rosy before the happy ending.

And sometimes death is necessary. Characters who apply ruthless justice are not always comfortable to read, but to me they’re a necessary type—especially in today’s world, where only a weak, truth-avoiding kind of love seems to be seen as acceptable.

Why write fantasy? With magic? Should Christians do that?

Honestly, if I were writing hardcore witchcraft, I’d understand this accusation. I wouldn’t be comfortable writing something the Bible explicitly condemns; at least not in a fantasy setting.

But I don’t. I write fantasy books with a magical system that is something similar to the natural and scientific systems. Life with a bit…extra.

A bit extra wonder. A bit more to learn. Another level of reality.

If you’re going to write fiction, why not write Christian fiction?

Christian fiction is the hardest genre ever to do well.

Seriously.

In my formative years I was so frustrated at the lack of good Christian fiction out there. Either it was romance with a bit of God tacked on in the most superficial way possible, or it was badly written, thinly veiled preaching.

I didn’t want to write either. I wanted to write good Christian fiction; stuff where the characters act and behave according to their Christian natures, not like everyone else, with a bit of prayer tacked on.

And I didn’t want to shove message fiction and people, either. I wanted the message to come through naturally, steeped through the realistic reactions of Christians who thought like Christians and acted like Christians.

It’s hard guys. And like I said before, I gave myself a few years to get my craft up to scratch before I tried again. There are still a couple books waiting to be rewritten very soon… It’s always been my end goal to write Christian fiction (not to say that I’ll stop writing the other kinds of fiction, because I won’t; I want to WRITE THEM ALL).

And suddenly we’re back again to the question of Why do I write what I write?

I write what I write because it’s another way of displaying the truth. A decorative, subversive, winding way of displaying the truth that delights and makes people have to think.

I write what I write because I love writing fantasy. I love the way I can create a whole world, layer the magic and the political system through the whole thing. I love threading manners and morals and proverbs and culture through my worlds.

I write what I write because I love the act of creation itself. It’s something that has always fascinated me about God in particular, His creative side; and it’s something that makes me feel particularly close to Him. Like I understand a very small part of what He is. Like I’m just a little bit closer to Him as a creator, though my type of creation is so much less than His.

I write what I write because it gives me joy.

I write what I write because it gives other people joy.

I write what I write because it’s a way for me to do something with the gift God has given me.

What do I want to achieve with my writing?

I want to tell a good story. I want to write well.

I want to honour God by doing the best possible job of my writing; by giving everything I’ve got to the life path He’s given me to walk. By growing in craft and execution as much as I possibly can; by creating art that’s both beautiful and joyful.

I want to have engaging and morally good characters that resonate with people. I want to write fiction with a sense of hope, no matter what the circumstances. I want to give joy and amusement and delight.

And I want most of all, as in everything else in my life, to glorify God through my writing.

I don’t necessarily start out to write a book with Christian themes in mind (this was especially true when I first began publishing), but they somehow manage to work their way in due to my outlook on life—and, as with every other author out there, my worldview bleeds into any book I write.

No matter what you do as a person, your personal outlook and view on life will affect how you act, react, and interact.

That holds especially true for writers, since our way of life necessarily leads to outward expression of the things that are inside us. We learn as we write, we write as we learn; and everything that goes into us comes back out in our books.

Even when we don’t know it, we’re putting ourselves into our work; in the way our characters think and react; in the themes that run through our books, whether known or unknown; in the very feeling and sense that our books give.

And if it comes right down to it, I’ve had complaints from both sides of the coin on my writing—while there are people who fancy my books ungodly, there are others who object to the noblebright style of writing, the lack of swearing, and the lack of any other couples than m/f ones (not to mention the lack of sex scenes).

I’ve answered those elsewhere, but that answer basically boils down to what I tell people who are sincerely convinced that my books are ungodly.

Don’t read my books. Don’t harm your conscience on my account. If you believe, for whatever reason, that my books are evil, don’t read them. It’s not worth the harm to your conscience, and I wouldn’t want you to do it.

Finally, aside from anything fancied wrong about writing fantasy (magic, lying, etc), I’ve also had people concerned that writing itself is a bad or wasteful thing.

“Why would you waste your time? How can you honour God like that? How can you be sure you’re doing God’s will? Why can’t you do a sensible job?”

Gentle reminder right here—writing is a job. This is my actual job I’m doing here. The job I do to get paid.

I love it, but it is my job.

Imagine asking someone who works on the checkouts, “Excuse me, but are you sure you’re doing God’s will? How is this going to honour God? Are you sure you’re not wasting your talents?”

Or someone who drives a bus, “Isn’t this a waste of time when you could be serving God elsewhere?”

We all have to work. We all have a job to do.

I’m singularly blessed in that I can write for a job. I love writing. In fact, there’s very little in my life I love as much as writing, and I’m grateful every day to God (and to you guys) that I can actually make something close to a full living from doing something so amazing.

But it’s also a way of earning money. In your nine to five job, there are many chances to honour God, whether or not you’re preaching or doing missionary work. Similarly, I have opportunities each day. Those opportunities don’t go away just because my job happens to be that of being a writer.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t say something if you’re concerned for someone’s soul, or if you feel God is prompting you to speak. But bear in mind that each person stands or falls before God, and that you can’t persuade someone into your way of thinking without God changing that person’s mind.

It’s not your job to make over everyone in your image. If you’re concerned, pray for us. We can always use the prayer; we’re all growing, and learning, and trying to honour God. That shows your love for us far better than ranting at us over social media or shaking your finger in our faces.

And it leaves the work of changing hearts and minds exactly where it belongs; with God.

Why I Write What I Write (Part One: The Reason for this Post)

Posted under A Writer's Life, Growing as a writer on June 21st, 2018 by

Okay, this is gunna be a LONG blog post. I have to cover the reason for the post as well as addressing the content of the title itself, so there’s a bit of material to cover.

I apologise in advance. Maybe I’ll split it into two posts and save everyone’s eyes. (EDIT: yeah, I’m gunna do that).

On to the blog post.

It was at an extended family gathering roughly a year and a half ago; I didn’t know everyone, and not everyone knew me. My sister introduced me to someone as an author.

Their response?

“Oh, you make a living out of lying!”

I’d like to say it was the first time I’ve had a response like that, but it wasn’t. It stung, but it wasn’t the first, and it wasn’t the worst.

Nor, unfortunately, was it the last.

I’ve been accused of everything from being a liar to dishonouring God; asked anxiously if I’m sure what I’m doing is something a Christian should waste their time on; accused of writing things that belong in Dark Mofo (an outspokenly anti-christian festival that specialises in blasphemy and anything that is an art form that speaks against Christ).

The latest of these occasions came in the form of a series of Facebook private messages through my author page, and prompted me to think again about this blog post that I’d meant to write at least a year ago.

I’d recently been invited to read and speak at a Christian arts festival that I attended last year as a guest; I knew that someone had found offence with my work and was trying to insist on my not being allowed to read. When the organisers mentioned the concerns had been brought up, I asked them if they’d like me to read from a different book instead, just to keep everybody happy. There was no thought in my mind that there was anything wrong with BETWEEN JOBS, just that it was better to make life as easy for the organisers as possible. One book for another–no big deal.

Unfortunately, the person who had objected wasn’t content even with me reading from another book and approached me through FB messenger on my author page.

The first message was more or less polite, apart from an accusation and an insinuation that were something of a slap in the face. They concluded their message with a demand to know why I wrote it [BETWEEN JOBS]. Why was it necessary? They wanted to enter into a dialogue with me about how a person who seemed to be sincere about their Christian faith, could write books with magic in them.

As I read the message, I prayed for wisdom in how to respond–as a matter of fact, I’d been praying just that morning for grace to respond to unpleasant people in kindness and not in pride, so I suppose it was timely. (And lest anyone think it was an excess of godly thinking that had me praying like that, let me tell you, you’re dead wrong. It’s because I failed spectacularly badly with something slightly similar just a week ago. God being the God He is toward me, He obviously decided to repeat the lesson.)

I swallowed the hurt of the accusation and the insinuation, and tried to remember that this person had represented themselves as a Christian, and that although they had no right to dictate what I wrote, or my conscience before God, they had every right to speak up if they felt their conscience led them to say something.

I didn’t want to answer in wounded pride, or hurt someone who was genuinely concerned for my soul. So I wrote back politely, letting them know I appreciated their concern for my soul; that I was completely whole in my conscience regarding my writing; that I was indeed serious about honouring God in all that I did; that I didn’t consider by writing about magic or murder, that I was dishonouring God. I told them I had prayed for many years over my decision to write as a job, and hoped by this they would understand that although our positions differed, we would have to agree to disagree and serve God in our own ways the best we could.

The next message from this person was considerably pushier; it demanded to know was I sure I was right in my conscience, and didn’t my changing the book I was going to read from mean that I was secretly feeling guilty about the book?

It contained several guilt-inducement attempts that I recognised only through having lived with a manipulator for the past ten years. It spoke of anger that something like my work would be read in a Christian festival, and tried to insinuate that there was trouble or misunderstanding between the organisers of the festival and myself. In short, it looked like the author was trying to talk me out of attending the festival, having failed to have me disinvited by the organisers.

I replied to let them know that I wouldn’t be discussing the matter with them, since I didn’t find it a profitable use of time given our vastly differing stances, and that I wasn’t in the kind of health that made debating over the internet a pleasant or sustainable pastime.

I thanked them again for their care for my soul, and concluded with the comfort that if God saw fit to show me that I was wrong, it would be accomplished in His time and through His Spirit, and asked that they be content with that.

Their final message didn’t even attempt any concern. This time, instead of opening with anything remotely appropriate (an acknowledgement that they would honour my request, or an agreement–no matter how reluctant–to leave God’s work to God) they accused either myself or the organisers of the festival of lying, and suggested I be very sure there weren’t any problems.

Having checked with the organisers that they were still very happy to have me attend as a speaker/reader, I turned my thoughts to considering what I consider every time I experience a reaction like this: the reasons I write what I write, and what I hope to accomplish in the act of writing as well as the books produced thereby.

To Be Continued in Part Two: Why I Write What I Write, or, The Actual Blog Post…

Urban Fantasy and Other Plans for 2018

Posted under A Writer's Life on October 17th, 2017 by

I’m always really surprised when I look up from my computer and find myself staring at the end of another year.

Somehow or other I always approach the end of the year with a bit of a haze around my head and the idea that there’s still months and months ahead in the year. Then NaNoWriMo hits and I’m so busy trying to swim instead of sink that I forget about things like end of year and what day it is and what those things called eating and drinking actually are…

It’s not until December arrives and it’s almost too late to plan for the coming year, that I remember the end of the year is tapping on my shoulder. So this year, I’m pretty pleased to find myself ahead of the curve; I’ve remembered now! Mostly this is because I’ve been planning ahead what I want to do for 2018. I’ve got a publication schedule set up that should see me through to the end of the year and maybe beyond.

So what do I have planned for publication in 2018? I’m so glad you asked!

2018 is looking pretty exciting for me: early in the year, the newest Two Monarchies book, Staff and Crown, should be out.

Barring unforeseen circumstances, Staff and Crown should be available at the end of January, continuing the journey of Annabel and Melchior, and including the indomitable Isabella. So if you were wanting to know what happened while Annabel and Isabella were at school, your curiosity will soon be satisfied.

By June, Lady of Weeds should be out!

I’ve been wanting to release the 2nd book in the Lady series after Lady of Dreams, but I wanted to get Memento Mori and Staff and Crown published first, not to mention getting something else off the ground. (I should mention here that if you want to read each chapter of Lady of Weeds as it’s written, you’ll have to sign up to my newsletter; the first newsletter of every month will have a chapter exclusively for those on the list. Otherwise, you’ll be waiting until June 2018…)

September or October should see the publication of the 3rd Time Traveller’s Best Friend book, for the scifi lovers out there (and can I say how much I’m looking forward to travelling with Kez and Marx again?)

You might be wondering why there’s a gap of four months between Staff and Crown and Lady of Weeds.

This is because I’m in the process of a New Project.

If you’ve been keeping up with my Facebook Author Page and my Twitter account, you’ll probably already have seen that this new project is an Urban Fantasy series set in Hobart, Tasmania. I’m hoping to have the first book finished during NaNoWriMo, the second by the end of the year, and the third in the series done by February. Once the first three books are done, I’ll have a nice quick-fire release for that series. If all goes well, you should expect to see the first City Between book in March or April…

Keep your eye out at the end of this blog post for a blurb and excerpt for the first book, Between Jobs.

Last but not least, I want to hear from you guys. What do you want to see me publish in 2018? Do you have any requests? Anything you want first? Or does the lineup sound good just the way it is? Let me know!

–oOo–

Between Jobs (blurb & excerpt)

She’s orphaned, struggling to make a living, and technically homeless. The last thing she needs is a murdered guy outside her window. Things like that tend to draw the attention of the local police, and when you’re squatting in your parents’ old house until you can afford to buy it, another thing you can’t afford is the attention of the cops.

Good thing she isn’t used to things going her way, because a hanging corpse outside her window is just the beginning of it all. Now two fae and a vampire have moved into her parents’ old house, and they’re not too thrilled to find her there.

Oh well, at least only one of them wants to kill her.

–oOo–

They didn’t offer me a seat in the kitchen. Well, maybe I wouldn’t be offering a seat to someone I’d just found hiding in my house, but they didn’t try to call the cops, either. And if you think that’s a good sign, you’re even madder than they are. I sat down anyway; jumped myself up on the kitchen counter and crossed my legs under me while they all stared at me in varying degrees of hostility—and, in Athelas’ case, outright amusement.

He seemed to be the least dangerous one of the three, so I looked at him when I said, “It was my house first.”

“What are we supposed to do with it?” he asked, and at first I thought he was talking to me even though the question made no sense.

It wasn’t until Zero said, “We’re not keeping it,” that I realised I was the it Athelas was talking about.

“Oi!” I said.

JinYeong flicked my knee. When I looked at him, he put one finger over his lips, and there was a dark liquidity to his eyes. I shut my mouth.

“Where are its parents?”

“Maybe they abandoned it?” suggested Athelas.

“Yes, but then how did it crawl in here?”

“I didn’t crawl,” I said, since it seemed like they were actively looking for information. “I was already here.”

Zero’s eyes turned on me with a suddenness that made me jump. “You said that before. Is that why you wouldn’t tell me anything when I stopped you on the street?”

I’d assumed he didn’t remember me. “No,” I said. “I wouldn’t tell you anything when you stopped me on the street because you’re a stranger, and you choked me. Why would I tell you where I live and work?”

Athelas smiled faintly. “It’s got good instincts. What are we going to do with it, though?”

“We’ll give it back to its parents,” said Zero shortly.

“My parents are dead.”

“We’ll find someone else to give it to.”

JinYeong spoke, a questioning lilt to the end of it. There was still that dark liquidity in his eyes, and I could see the pointed tip of one incisor through his lips.

My toes curled defensively inside my socks. I edged a little closer to Zero; he hadn’t actually strangled me, after all.

“That’s a very good point,” Athelas said mildly. “What if it does talk?”

“We can’t keep it!”

I sat up straighter. I knew that tone of voice. It was the one mum used when dad was just about to talk her into one of his daft, fun schemes. Zero was really thinking about me staying there.

“I’m quiet,” I said. “You won’t know I’m here. Well, you didn’t know I was here until now—”

JinYeong said something indignant, and I glared at him. He mouthed a word at me that I took to mean “what?” by the tilt of his chin.

“I can make really good coffee.”

Zero blinked. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d startled him, like the first time we met, or if it was because he was weakening.

“I can cook, too.”

JinYeong’s lips made a thoughtful moue. He tucked his chin back in and folded his arms. Well. He was ready to listen, too.

“We haven’t had a pet in a while,” Athelas said thoughtfully. “And if you expect me to put up with your cooking, Zero—”

“Most stewards,” remarked Zero, unoffended, “cook for their masters.”

“Most of them don’t kill for their masters,” Athelas responded. “I’m able either to cook or kill. I find it inimical to success to try for both.”

Wait, what now?

“I never asked you to kill for me!” Zero said in exasperation. Yes. In exasperation. Not horror, or disbelief, or disgust. Exasperation.

“If it can cook, we should let it stay and cook.”

“What if it gets hurt?”

“What if it does? It’s a pet.”

–oOo–

Sympatico

Posted under A Writer's Life, Growing as a writer on July 12th, 2017 by

For the last couple of days I’ve been watching Wanted (yeah, it’s a KDrama—what of it?). Mostly by the end it was a hot mess (flyaway story threads that were never quite resolved, inconsistent characterisation, inconsistant and shifting morals/application of those morals) but it had so many good things about it and was so riveting to watch that it wasn’t until the end that I found too much annoyance to ignore.

But the one thing that really jumped out at me as being exceedingly excellent was the single characteristic that I want to discuss today. The two MCs in Wanted are Hye-In—a mother trying to find her kidnapped son—and Seung-In—the police officer who is helping her. These characters don’t meet until the second episode, but as soon as they do…

Let me describe it this way.

In one of their first scenes together, Hye-In and Seung-In are both at the bedside of a kidnapped child who has been rescued. The mother and father arrive on the scene; mother first, then father. The child clings to his mother fervently and she to him…and then the father walks in. At first you don’t notice too much difference. Then you slowly notice that the child, still clinging to his mother, has begun to move just a little bit…then a little bit more, until he is almost behind her.

Hye-In, watching, looks instinctively at Seung-In to confirm her first thought. He, sharp-eyed, catches her gaze and holds it. There’s a moment of unspoken communication—honestly, one of the greatest highlights of this entire drama—and each of them from this point on knows that there’s something they have to do before all the main players leave the room.

For Hye-In, the reason for helping this abused mother and her child is divided and skewed mainly toward her son. For Seung-In, the reason is whole and unbroken. But they each know they have each other’s backs, and they trust each other to do what needs to be done.

From that point onward, if Hye-In needs him for anything, Seung-In is already there. If Seung-In comes to a conclusion about the case, there Hye-In is, right beside him, having come to the same conclusion. They work like a well-oiled, well-connected whole. Sympatico, pure and simple, adding a layer of emotional depth that the drama might not otherwise have had, since it lacked a romantic plot-line.

Sympatico is one of the things I look for most in characters; one of the things that will cause me to irrevocably love or hate a book/tv show/movie. It doesn’t have to be romantic—though it can be, and is one of my favourite ways to grow romance—and it’s just as effective in building lasting friendships that I LOVE. And there are so many ways you can express it! Visual cues taken up flawlessly, verbal cues followed without a blink; even the simple support of a hand when it’s most needed.

So simple, yet so difficult to produce, so beautiful when done right, sympatico between characters is one of my favourite things. Hye-In and Seung-In are two of my favourites; tell me some of yours!

Audiobooks, Ho!

Posted under A Writer's Life on July 4th, 2017 by

Some of you might have seen the tweets and fb statuses that I’ve been making about trying to decide which book of mine should go audio first. After much thought and input, I’ve decided to go with the first Two Monarchies book, Spindle.

Right?

Not so much. Because now I have to find the perfect narrator. Which is something rather difficult for me, given that I don’t actually listen to audiobooks, don’t like listening to audiobooks, and don’t really know what I’m looking for.

So if you guys have a favourite narrator, a personal recommendation, or anything similar—chuck it at me. Over the next month or two I’ll be gathering samples and auditions, and at the end of that time, I’ll post ’em here on the blog and through my newsletter for you guys to pick which one you like the best.

I’m really excited about this, even if I’m not an audiobook person, and I can’t wait to see how Spindle comes out!

Treat Yo Self!

Posted under A Writer's Life on June 14th, 2017 by

Right. Today, I’m gonna talk about something that is both very important and very applicable.

Wait, that’s the wrong pic.

I want to talk about looking after myself—yourselves, ourselves, etc. In that vein, here, have the correct gif:

As some context for this seemingly out-of-the-blue post, here’s a look at the last two weeks of my life…

I’ve always had back trouble. Lower back, upper back, shoulders, neck, hips, regular sciatica—basically, you name it, I get it. Sometimes it’s a murmur in the background, sometimes a sharp stab when I least expect it. There aren’t many days that go by without some form of pain, but for the most part it’s not crippling, overwhelming, or unbearable. Every now and then things change drastically, and I get constant, high levels of pain (usually neck or hips).

Two weeks ago, it changed.  Suddenly, I had constant, mid-to-high level pain at the top of my neck and the bases of my ears; pain bad enough and constant enough to make every shift at the day job an exercise in endurance and mental strength. I kept going for a week, because that’s what I do. I just keep going, because one day it will be better again. I get used to the new level of pain, prepare myself for it, and just keep working.

That particular method didn’t work this time.

I knew after the first week that I’d have to do something about it. The pain was so bad that I had to leave early from my last shift of the week at the day job, and I had become so mentally weary from the pain that I was finding it hard to do more than 1k words on my WiP. It occurred to me, vaguely, that a massage might be a good idea, but I wasn’t sure it was affordable or worthwhile, and it sounded kinda…you know, extravagant. And what if it didn’t help?

By the start of the next week I was in too much pain to do anything but try to find somewhere to get a massage. Monday was a public holiday, so no joy. Tuesday, there were no female massagers available (and one masseuse completely booked out until July). Wednesday—today—I went to the appointment I was able to make for myself yesterday. I wasn’t particularly hopeful; in my limited experience, there isn’t much that takes away that kind of back pain.

I’m so happy I was wrong. I walked in stiff and sore, and walked out with about half the amount of pain. Half. The massage therapist told me that it had been bad for so long that it would take more than one session to fix it all, which means I have another two hour-long sessions over the next couple of weeks.

So. Quick recap for those of you following at home: I just spent nearly two weeks in constant pain because it didn’t occur to me that it was worthwhile trying to do something about it.

I got used to the pain. I got used to the limitations. There is stuff that has been literally fixable for years, and I haven’t gone to get it fixed because—what? I thought it was extravagant. I thought a massage was a luxury, not a treatment. And even if it was a luxury—so what? Sometimes that’s what you need. There are enough health problems that come with being a writer without adding constant pain and stress to that pile.

Don’t be like me. Treat Yo Self. Maybe you’ll find it was something you should have done years ago.

The Perils of Learning a Second Language

Posted under A Writer's Life, Adventures in Korean on May 19th, 2017 by

Okay, that’s a bit sensationalist.

It’s not perilous, exactly—unless you consider feeling like an idiot roughly 2-5 times per lesson a peril, that is—but there is a steep learning curve associated with it, and certain pitfalls that come with that. At the moment, I study at home, go to a lesson with the lovely Kara, and on the same day spend an hour or two speaking an English/Korean hybrid with another girl who is learning English as I’m learning Korean.

This week, I went to my English conversation appointment feeling buoyed and eager.

Why, you ask? Well, Ko-Eun (the girl I am speaking English with) had suggested we each write a series of sentences in the language we were trying to learn. She would write hers in English, and I would write mine in Korean. I had put in about three hour’s work on my sentences, and I was feeling pretty good about them.

I mean, I even checked ’em in Word! (Did you blokes know you can get Hangul grammar and spelling checked in Word? You do now!) No squiggly lines, and it all looked correct.

Then Ko-Eun looked at them.

I was expecting some notes and changes—minor spelling issues or slight grammar fixes, yanno, nothing dramatic. So when she assured me that my sentences were very cute, that was my first warning sign that my sentences were not as solid as I’d assumed.

You can see the picture below if you want to snicker at the distinctly imperfect sentences I had actually turned in.

And I thought having my English language writing edited was bad…

The bright side of all this—aka, my cheerful feeling of competency that I’d made good sentences being dashed by an equally cheerful Ko-Eun wielding a pencil—is that I learned a huge amount during the slashing of my hard-won sentences.

Also, I have a really cute drawing of a crab, which is a pun about 게 (it both denotes place, and is the noun ‘crab’: if used in the wrong place, there are seven crabs in my house and not seven places for books). So there’s that.

Obviously, my next sentences will achieve the perfection at which I have, this time, failed.

아! 실패다! 아쉽다!

다음 번에….

English Version below, for those who care/can compare/want to laugh, mock, or generally giggle at my Korean translation.

I live in a house with a green door. Some of the walls are yellow, and some are blue. The curtains are colourful, too. At first, I didn’t like it.

In my house there are seven bookcases. I like to read a lot. But I like writing better than reading, so there is a special place where I can write, too.

When I write, I drink tea from a blue teacup with a yellow sunflower on the side. I like bright teacups. My house is as colourful as my teacups.

I live in a house with a green door. Some of the walls are yellow, and some are blue. At first, I didn’t like it.

Now, I like it a lot.

 

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