An author's collection of thoughts and stories
Literally – Literally everyone says it
Actually – It’s been copyrighted by the online debate crowd
Just – Just don’t
Very – It’s very very bad.
Milquetoast – It’s spelled weird.
And that’s it! Now you are ready to make your dreams come true and live your best life. Wishing you all a good writing journey!
One of those big and glaringly obvious things about trying to make a living as an indie author is that you have to, you know, write books to make it happen.
Ha ha, yeah, I’ll get around to it.
Currently my actual progress with novel writing is quite small. Currently my mind is a little too preoccupied with the real world to think that much about my fictional ones. I wouldn’t say, “writer’s block”, but I’m definitely still deep in “writer’s process.” And while I’m kinda wishing that I was more of an escapist sort, I need to get a real-world foundation built under me before I can start dreaming.
There is a slightly pragmatic element to me.
So instead of thinking about Malachi and Lyra, running around and doing things in Runemaster, I’m thinking about boring adult things like my credit score. I’m figuring out how to structure my day so that I can have time for everything that needs to be done. I’m trying to remember to stay hydrated and get some fresh air and sunshine. I’m adjusting to a major life change. I’m stopping a four-year-old and a two-year-old from spitting at each other across the room, because despite how cute and little they are, it’s also kinda gross.
What I need is time. I wish that life came with a pause button that I could smack every time I needed a moment to think and process, but the sun continues to rise and fall the same way that it always has and always will. I don’t know if I’m counting down the days to a deadline, or if I’ll have all the time I need. And it’s easy to get caught up in the stress.
So I remind myself not to make any decisions based on fear. I can be logical. I can follow what my heart truly wants. But I won’t let myself succumb to fear; that’s not how I want to live the rest of my life. I know deep in my heart that writing is the only thing that I have any real ambition for, so that’s where I’m throwing all my energy.
However, I’m not going to lie: having a fire tickling my behind is also proving itself to be great motivation. I might not be deep into writing yet, but I’m thinking a lot about the marketing aspect and learning new skills.
Speaking of marketing, that whole “SEO optimization” makes me feel awkward. There’s nothing poetic about it, and it’s definitely not natural to my way of thinking.
“Calls to action” are also something that are currently uncomfortable. Should I really end my blog posts with, “Now that I’ve shared how my life is a train wreck, tell me about your own train wrecks in the comments below!” Is that appropriate?
But what the hey, let’s commiserate a little bit. What are you struggling with in your life right now?
I needs to learn teh elocution. LOL
I confess that as I’ve been researching marketing, I keep having the thought that it would be easier for me to get remarried instead.
It’s not that I find the idea of marketing to be morally repugnant or anything — hey, once a story is deemed finished, I can cut that metaphorical umbilical cord and throw it out into the world for consumption; no problems there — but the idea of managing a platform and brand sounds so overwhelmingly draining. I’ve never been the sort to wave my arms and cry out, “Look at me!” and it frankly scares me to do so.
At the same time, I’m also aware that dating and marketing probably aren’t all that different. Target demographic: Men, 40’s, divorced with children. Product: One domestic engineer — I can cook, clean, and laugh at all your jokes! The main difference is that I have lots of experience in a companionship and support role, and have otherwise done my best to remain invisible to everyone else in every other capacity. What can I say, I’m shy. LOL.
And honestly, it just hurts to dedicate my life to household management, childcare, budgeting, and culinary arts, only to be abruptly ousted out of my career. Like, hey, I really enjoyed doing that! Please just let me cook dinner.
But I have no idea what my life is supposed to be or where it’s supposed to go, so I’m just going to pick a direction and blindly follow it until I hit a sign or something. And since I love writing so much, that’s where I’m trying to go.
Target demographic: People who love genre romances with strong characterization, deep philosophical discussions, a touch of wholesomeness, and a sprinkle of sordid. Product: My novels.
See? That wasn’t so bad. Now I just need to wave my arms in the air and shout, “Look at me!”
I wouldn’t go out on a date without putting on deodorant first, and in the same vein I should gussy up my books to make them appealing and not stinky. However, I would also never put on fake eyelashes, since that’s not in my personality and not the sort of precedent that I want to set — I’d prefer someone who likes my minimal makeup style. So … I shouldn’t try to make my novels seem like something that they’re not.
The main difference is, of course, that in dating I would just be searching for the One to settle down with, while in marketing I’d be searching for … a lot more. I’m not sure if there is an end goal in marketing, and that’s a little much to wrap my mind around.
And as of yet, I have no idea if being a professional writer will provide the same warm fuzzies that sharing a home cooked meal does.
But you know how it is when life throws you a curve ball. Sometimes all you can do is adapt and stumble around blindly until something new works out.
Alice had lost her sense of self. She had fallen in with a stereotypical bad boy named Damon, and as the mistakes heaped higher the more trapped she felt in the rebellious life she led. However, when Damon pushed circumstances to their breaking point, and Alice fell into legal troubles that there was no escape from. A chance encounter with the local Warden began a process of self-discovery for Alice, as she she asked herself the question, “What does it mean to have dignity?”
Base image created with Stable Diffusion, and everything else added in Canva.
What happens when the world’s most powerful magus falls in love?
Ainmire has long since lost his connection with his humanity, existing as more of a shadow that looms over the Order of the Magi, focused more on doing what was necessary rather than on what he wanted. However, after the Order gave the orders for the assassination of the Red Magus, Ainmire has a chance encounter with the Red Magus’s beautiful and vivacious daughter, Lily … and changes his mind. He refuses to follow through with the assassination, and instead pursues Lily with the intent of marriage, rediscovering the human side of himself along the way.
It doesn’t matter how many enemies he makes with his change of goals, because no one comes even close to matching his ability to wield magic. After all, who’s going to stop him?
Base image generated with Stable Diffusion, and everything else added using Canva.
Redesigning the covers for my novels.
Still feeling rather insecure about the process, particularly since I’m not as visually motivated as everyone else, so I don’t really know what it is about covers that scream, “Buy me now!” (Same way that I don’t really understand why arranging food in a fancy way makes people think it tastes better). But I’m perfectly aware that covers are what initially hook people into cracking open a book, so I’m doing my best to learn.
Recently I watched the anime movie, Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms, and at one point someone offers their sage advice to the main character to let the fabric she weaves tell her story and weep for her. Or something like that. I confess that this is one of those movies that hits me right in the “feels” and I spent the entire time crying, so my memory of the exact conversation is probably lacking. But, you know, close enough.
That idea got me thinking. I also enjoy weaving, and while I don’t have the ability to literally encode messages into the cloth I make, I can still pour my intentions into it.
So I made a “story cloth” for myself. As I passed the shuttle back and forth between my hands, I meditated deeply on all of the events of this past year, so now it can always hold the truth of my experiences. It holds my story for me, so that I can let it go and move forward to create a new one.
I’m a bit of a metaphorical person, but we already knew that. The funny thing about being a genre writer is how it bleeds into reality, and I have a touch of that magical thinking in everything I do.
The yarn is Lily Sugar n Cream cotton, and I hand-dyed it myself. It’s small enough to fit neatly on the top of my dresser, with plenty of room for … all those other things that seem to end up on top of dressers, lol. The hand-dyed colors combined with plain weave make me think of crosshatching with colored pencils, and it’s especially pleasant to look at from a distance.
I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to take a moment to share my two cents:
During my class on domestic violence, there was a time when the teacher gave us the assignment to do something nice for ourselves during the week. Most of the other women said that they were going to do things like giving themselves more patience, more compassion, more understanding, which are all very good things. But the problem is that when one is eyeballs deep in stressful situations and in the process of healing from emotional damage, it’s hard to remember abstract ideals like patience. Plus, how do you measure if you’re giving yourself “more”? How do you know if you’ve succeeded?
My belief is that it’s better to tie those ideals to something physical. Whatever you chose should be very individual and personal, but an example could be a bead necklace, and every time you catch yourself fiddling with it, you tell yourself, “I am worthy of patience. I am allowed heal at my own pace.”
You see?
Or maybe acrylic fingernails that serve to remind you that you’re worthy of feeling beautiful. A sweater that helps you feel comfort. A ring that keeps you grounded whenever you twist it on your finger.
Something. Anything. The objects themselves don’t matter as much as the thoughts that you tie onto them. The point is to remind you to think the sorts of thoughts that you want to be thinking.
Of course, my disclaimer again is that I’m not perfect. This is something that has helped me cope so I’m sharing it with you, but I am by no means an expert or a therapist.
Here I am on camera! Yay for me!
One of the nice things about being a writer is that I can step outside of myself and ask, “How would a confident character handle this situation?”
Then I give myself guidelines to follow, and do my best to emulate how my imaginary character would be navigating my real life.
For example, I’ve given myself the very strict rule of no rebound dating. At first I felt done with relationships altogether, so it wasn’t really that big of an issue … but as time wears on, I find myself missing simple things like hand holding more and more. But since the last thing that I want to do is drive off a perfectly good partner with unresolved emotional baggage (or pick a bad one because of said baggage), I’m holding fast to my rule. This time is for rebuilding myself, and that’s what I’m going to do! Even if it leaves me feeling lonely.
Back during the summer, I told my domestic violence class that I was going out of my way to do one fun activity a week, outside of the daily grind and responsibilities, to remind myself that life still had a lot of enjoyable and beautiful things to offer. And I meant it. I was — and still am — doing my best to engage in some small activity every week, like hiking and baking.
But here’s the dark side to trying to emulate a fictional character: I felt like an impostor after saying that.
Despite the fact that my actions were true to my words, inside I didn’t feel like I was having all that much fun. Inside, I had days where I kinda wanted to step in front of a moving train. But I didn’t confess that to anyone, because I didn’t want anyone to stress and worry over me. I was already suffering from enough guilt over the events that landed me in a domestic violence class in the first place, and I didn’t want to add to it. I didn’t want it to turn into a Big Deal. So instead, I took my kids to the zoo so that they could have something exciting.
Enough time has passed now that the painful emotions are settling down, but the habits are still here. Still eating ice cream every Sunday, and going on long walks by the river. Still taking the kids to the park, and still looking for shapes in the clouds. Still watching the sunset.
My heart isn’t back yet to where it used to be. I’m still grieving the loss of the life I thought that I would have, and still trying to wrap my mind around what my future is going to be like. But it’s okay to feel a little bit like an impostor because my insides aren’t matching up to my outsides, because as long as I keep doing my best I’m sure that they’ll synchronize once again. One day I’ll see rainbows and feel the beauty with my entire soul.
I just have to keep looking up.
During this last summer, I adopted a puppy.
I got him primarily for emotional support, since I had sunk into the despair of, “I can’t do anything right,” but couldn’t shake the idea that it would be good for me to get a dog, so that I could learn assertiveness and have a constant companion. So, when I came across *the puppy* that felt right for me, I took the gamble.
I affectionately refer to him as my “spaniel mutt,” because deep down inside I don’t really understand why everything has to have some cutesy mixed name, like “spadorkadoodle.” I guess I’m still fundamentally a cat person.
First, I did not anticipate the puppy biting being as big of a challenge as it is. All of those online videos make it look so easy to correct, but instead my puppy would get more riled up whenever I tried to use those tactics and bite even more, go figure. To make it more fun, there was a wide range of advice on the topic, ranging from, “Dogs need to learn the difference between soft biting and hard biting somehow,” to, “Any amount of teeth is bad bad bad.” So, we keep toys scattered through the house for some quick re-direction, and he bites way less than he used to, so he’s probably outgrowing it? I know that people can get quite passionate about dog training, so maybe I’m opening myself up to criticism here, har har. Be nice to me, I’m going through a hard time.
Potty training, on the other hand, was much easier than I expected. Maybe because, as a mom, I’m already used to directing small creatures to go pee, and it’s second nature to me now.
The biggest surprise about owning a dog is the social aspect.
I’m not referring to the fact that dogs are pack animals, but rather how much of an ice-breaker they are for socializing with strangers. It turns out that people with dogs are much more likely to stop and chitchat when you also have a dog.
I’m going to take a moment here for a bit of a soap-box rant: It seems like I’ve spent a long time surrounded by general negative attitudes towards strangers, with people complaining about randos smiling and saying “hello,” just because they happen to pass nearby, but I always liked it — I’m the weirdo who enjoys feeling like I exist in society, I guess. As I’ve been reevaluating my life, it’s occurred to me that maybe socializing with strangers isn’t such a faux pas, and that all of those Negative Nellies are the ones with the problem, not me. I can smile and say hello to whoever I want to, thank-you-very-much! In the culture I grew up in, we referred to such things as, “Brightening someone’s day,” and that’s how I’m going to see it until the day I die.
Anyway, obviously not everyone with a dog wants to stop and chat, but generally speaking the more outgoing the dog is, the more outgoing the owner is, and people really love talking about their dogs. It makes it easy to establish those brief connections.
The thing is, when everything in your life is unexpectedly turned upside down, it’s the small things that provide the best anchor points to keep yourself grounded. Impromptu conversations help provide a sense of normalcy and acceptance, even when it feels like everything has gone to pieces. They aren’t that magic elixir that makes the emotional pain stop hurting, but they still help.
I’m not some guru who has it all figured out. I can’t tell you any steps to make life instantly easier, since all I know how to do is drag myself out of bed even when I don’t want to. Sometimes, all it takes is getting up to let the dog outside to do his business, and from there the rest of the day will fall into place.
I want to add that my children thoroughly love having a dog, and still often talk about how awesome it is. They spend lots of time playing fetch and tug-o-war, and enjoy helping with the puppy’s training.
Adopting a puppy was a good decision.
By Autumn Rain 