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Public Service Announcement:  This may ramble...

My grandmother is dying.  It has been coming for a while.  She was put into memory care eight years ago with Alzheimer's, and three years ago suffered a subarachnoid hemorrhage that we didn't think she would survive.  But she did.  She's a stubborn old gal.  It's where we get it. 

Some time Friday night, she suffered a massive right sided stroke, that has left her with left hemipareisis and unable to clear her own oral secretions, let alone take nutrition.  Her already murmured speech is now garbled and unitelligible.  She communicates through hand signs.  I wonder what she really is saying to the staff, and my aunts and uncle. 

You see, I am not there.  She is in Minneapolis, the seat of the family tree.  I am in Portland, a long ways away.  By my own choice, mind you.  Minneapolis was never home to me, not for the lack of trying.  For too many reasons, ones I will not go into here, but may touch on.  It is too bad my other siblings didn't get to know her like I did.  We moved when they were little, like 2 and 4.  Does David know?  Did anyone tell him?

Can I just be the first to say that anticipatory grieving sucks?  See, I watch other people do this.  I'm a nurse.  A cardiac nurse.  A night shift cardiac nurse.  I help other people to the door.  Watch over them and their loved ones in one of the most vulnerable moments of their existences.  Death.  The long exhale that does not come.  I hold hands, provide tissues, and words of what I hope is comfort in a time where no words can help.  I am learning, today, the importance of touch in these moments; how much a simple hug can do.  Oxytocin is a wonderful drug, and cannot seem to get enough.

We are waiting for her to die.  She is in hospice care, hopefully in a SNF, and out of the hospital.  She was fluid rescucitated at the hospital, so it will take a few days for her to leave.  Maybe three or four.  She is being kept comfortable.  I hope they are using scopalamine to dry up her oral secretions so she doesn't notice them.  I hope they are using ativan liberally, to stave off the panic.  But those of us who are not near are waiting, Aunt Hilary's posts to her CaringBridge journal our sole source of information.

I thought about going to visit while we wait.  But I don't know what good it would do.  I last saw her in '91.  I kind of want to remember her that way.  Spunky, funky, full of life.  Not immobile, helpless, and unable to communicate.  Are her nails still red and filed sharp?  Did they remember her lipstick?  I just don't want to go.  And I feel bad about that.  But, I cannot take time off work for anticipatory grieving.  I get bereavement after she dies, not before.  I really could use it now.  Oh, well.  The tears come when they come.  Fortunately, I work with a wonderful group of nurses who are being so supportive and caring.  They noticed right away that something was very wrong on Sunday when I showed up for my shift with tears puffing my eyes.  I'd known for less than two hours then.  My eyes are still puffy.  I'm waking up feeling like I've been crying for a while, my pillow wet. 

In my own way, I was close to Grandma.  She loved me for who I am.  She didn't blame me for the situation of my birth, who my father was, the marriage, or the divorce.  She was supportive, and helped me explore the world.  From a distance.  In her own way.  I was just telling my husband about her on Friday night, as I was packing up the boxes of presents to my own grandchildren.  Grandma taught me how to do Yule.  Boxes of wrapped gifts, chosen for the recipient with knowledge of who they were as a person.  Everyone received fairly, equally, but she handled the age differences well.  Candy, cookies, and a bit of fun.  One year it was ice skating.  Another it was tennis, complete with an outfit.  As we grew older, and there were more children, there was art supplies.  Thread art, paint by numbers.  Oh and the chicken, the marionette chicken.  Doug hated the chicken.   Little did I know, as I was talking about her, she was making her way to the door.  Maybe it was her way of letting me know.  Grandma will be with me every year as I prepare Yule for my grandchildren.  Maybe they will pass it on to theirs.

Christmas at her house, and we did it every year until we moved to Tucson, was a production.  Between visits to extended family, huge family dinners, an overdone tree, and piles of gifts that took up more room in the car than we did, it was memorable.  A week in the summer and a week in the winter in Ohio.  With family.  The only family I knew.  Aunts only a few years older than I, and an uncle a year younger, it was fun.  We'd watch Batman, and drink ginger ale, pretending it was beer and playing pirate.  We'd slide down the stairs on boxes.  Jingle bells, and carafes of wine in the snow on the deck. 

Watching my mother go through this from a distance is also hard.  We all get caught up in our own grieving.  She is wrapped up in hers.  So are my aunts.  Everyone does it their own way, and everyone is selfish about it.  And Mom is in Tucson, not Minneapolis.  She didn't want to go.  I don't really know why.  It doesn't matter.  My aunts are providing information daily, but she thinks they are keeping information from her.  Paranoia runs rampant.  Here is the sad truth of sitting death watch: not much happens.  Everyone waits for the final moment, willing it to come, and yet feeling guilty-sick for it.  Some hope they miss it, yet feel honor bound to be there.  Until the loved one passes, there is not much to say or do.   It all seems trivial.  They are dying, and will continue to do so until they are finished.  And while we all hope that they are not alone, I can tell you from years of experience in helping ease the passing of others one crystal truth: everyone dies alone.  This is not something anyone else can do with you.

 I hope I don't have to hear every year from now on that her mother died at Christmas; I'm sure I will.  Don't buy trouble, my husband says.  I'm not buying it.  It's on layaway.  It's coming, I know it.  At forty-six years of age, I know my mother.  She'll do her thing, and it will all be about her.  She didn't even tell us about Grandma until tonight.  Um, it's Tuesday folks.  She posted it on Facebook, looking for support and sympathy.  That's how I found out.  Still hurts.  I shouldn't be surprised, I know that.  It just hurts.  Oh, look, my own issues with my mother.  She gets to grieve her way, I will do mine. 

I will trudge forward.  Grandma will be missed.  She was an invisibly present force in my life.   It is too bad my other siblings didn't get to know her like I did.  We moved when they were little, like 2 and 4.  Does David know?  Did anyone tell him?  I will go on.  It is what she'd want.  If there is a funeral, I will go.


In the mean time, Happy Holidays, whichever you may celebrate.  In our house it is Yule.  Give a squidge to those you love.  Give a hand to those you don't know.  You could make the difference in someone's day, and not even know it.  Hugs.   mikki

Procrastination 101

NaNoWriMo started yesterday.  I have a novel planned, and am about 4500 words into it.  In spite of my planning, the prose is not flowing.  I feel like I am pulling this one along, and it is dragging it's feet.  So, my world-class procrastinator gene kicked in.  Seriously.

I decided to dye the sweater I knit, using up a good two and a half hours of my night.  I knit Calligraphy.  It is a beautiful pattern.  Well written, clear, and took bust darts well.  The yarn I used was BMFA STR, PDX City of Roses.  Pink.  Very pink.  Very not-me pink.  I am not a pink person, much to my mother's dismay.  Blue, purple, grey - yes.  Pink just gets me a look of what-where-you-thinking.  I showed the sweater in progress to a coworker.  She love the color and asked who it was for.  I told her  it was for me.  She cocked her head to the side, and said 'Um, no?'  Theresa, thank you for your frank and lovely honesty. 

What does one do with a pink sweater?  Over dye the sucker.  Two jars of lilac dye later, voila!

Not my best dye job, but definitely not my worst.  I didn't want a perfectly even dye, got it in one.  It's a bit splotchy.  I found out just a bit too late that the pot I was using to dye the sweater was too small for the volume I was introducing.  Way to small.  By the way, if you ever want to know where every scratch on you stovetop is, let a dye pot overflow onto it.  Shows up like fireworks.  My hands are blue, and probably will still be when I go back to work next week.  My nails look downright cyanotic.  This sweater is not something for professional wear, but a kick-around, keep-me-warm sweater.  The imperfect dye job is really me.  Some areas are dark, heavy, passionate.  Some are lighter, incomplete.  All in all, I like it.  Even if it is not perfect.

It will probably take 4 or 5 days to dry.  I brilliantly waited until it was raining to do this.  Oh, and it's raining in Portland.  Finally.

Writing my own rules

1. Write.
2. Carry  notebook and pen.  Inspiration is Murphy’s second cousin, once removed for inappropriate timing.
3. Write when you are writing, edit when you are editing.  Editing is part of the writing process, but it is not writing.
4. If the scene demands pink unicorns farting gnomes, go with it.
5. Don’t forget Albequerque.  It stands to reason that your characters didn’t read your outline.  Even if they did, they probably didn’t approve it.   It’s a Bugs Bunny thing.
6. Keep it to yourself until you are ready for the world’s opinion.  Even your closest friends won’t get it  until you do.
7. Rejections are hard, but have value.  Accept them for the truth they hold, and grab a glass of water while you are at it.  It makes the whole process go down easier.
8. Don’t forget that writers write.  If you don’t do it, it won’t happen.
9. Read.  A lot.  Everyday.  Brain candy, craft study, other writer’s works...they all have something to teach about life and the written word.
10. Give yourself permission to be you.  And write it down, so you don’t forget it.

Forget the bones. I want the whole enchilada.

For a little over a year now I have been exploring the world of fiction writing – specifically novels.  I’ve studied structure, characterization, conflict, and plot.  I’ve worked on character studies.  I’ve even started a few pieces, and have developed an organizational system that works for me.  NaNoWriMo 2012 saw me finish my first draft of the first novel I’ve ever worked on.  Still I am frustrated, and find myself stymied by the process of writing, and the advice that is given.

Writers appear to come from two main camps.  First is the NaNo system, where you rush to put the story down as fast as you can, with a minimum word count goal.  You can fill things in later.  Now, if one writes 50K of crap, one can reasonably expect to remove around 20%.  This leaves the frustrated writer with a novella at best, unless they are able to add to their manuscript in the revision process.   The second camp appears to plan everything out carefully, artfully crafting perfect sentences that say only what needs to be said, devoid of embellishment.  Much of the detail is left to the reader to fill in, relieving the author of the responsibility for painting the picture.  This relegates the author to the role of narrator, indicating action and dialogue.

What if there is another way?  What if we can allow ourselves full creative license?  What if we write it all?  Free ourselves from the constraint of word limitations and economy of prose?  What if we can do what we intended to do: write and tell the full story?

Here is what I’ve gleaned, on a grand scale:

• Show, don’t tell.  Great idea.  I get it, less exposition, more action.  The character didn’t cry; tears rolled down her cheek in a torrent.  
• Know your characters, all of them.  Have you ever met someone, gone to lunch with them once, and been able to proclaim that you know them?  Me either.  It takes years to really get to know someone, in most cases a lifetime.  It can take a whole book to get to know your characters. 
• But what about this nonsense about not using adverbs?  In my opinion, if it exists in the language, it is fair  game to use.  Why use and adverb?  Consider for the moment the verb sigh.  One can sigh exasperatedly,  fitfully, contentedly, impatiently, fearfully, absently, or passionately.  Each conveys emotion, with precision.  

So here is my suggestion: write what you need to write. 

  

Your first draft should contain all of the words you need to say what you are trying to say, to convey what happens in your story, to describe as fully as possible the world and experiences of your characters.  Allow yourself to write the characterizations as they occur to you, you can fix continuity errors later.   Who cares if your first draft is 50K or 150K?  It is your first draft.  Writing is revision.  We all go into this, in some part, knowing that we will have to revisit the manuscript, repair plot holes, find timeline gone wild, embellish some parts, remove others, fix grammatical and typographical errors.  We can worry about word count, page length, and economy then.  Now is for writing, for discovering the story, meeting the characters, and putting it all down in writing.  

So forget about writing the bones.  I want to write the whole enchilada, sour cream and all.  I can change the recipe later.  The point isn’t to write a final draft the first time.  The point is to write a first draft that has meaning.  And sometimes meaning can take a while to show up.

She's baaaaaaack!

So, after 6 weeks of messed up meds, I think we've got it straightened out.  At least I feeling better.  The energy is returning, other symptoms subsiding, I don't need to sleep all the time.  I've been down, really down, for about a month.  And have absolutely nothing to show for it.  I'm feeling a bit bad about that, but what are you going to do?  If it isn't there, it isn't there.  So, on to the reorganization plan...

Things I need to do:

• start the Yule project - for those who don't know, this involves knitting 11 pairs of socks ranging from age 2 to men's size 14, before Thanksgiving.  Tonight I will be winding yarn and finalizing the pattern.  The socks are all the same colorway and design.  This year  I am using Patina-Kapow from Blue Moon Fiberarts Socks That Rock.  I managed to score 11 skeins around PDX Yarn Crawl in March.  
• discuss Ribbed for His Pleasure with Min - I want to try to go black and white this time, to enable better printing costs.
• rewrite Thicke Plottens
• write the game journal
• learn to write sestina
• finish first draft of Korsal's Revenge
• wash sweaters, and put away for season
• wash socks, and put away for season
• finish baby knitting - the last one is due in 6 weeks, maybe this should be at the top of the list...
• organize writing stuff
• find room for the gaming books to go into one cabinet
• sort yarn
• get my new licenses - we are planning to move early next year - we need to be closer to the grands

Wow, that's a lot more than I thought it would be.  That's not even including my reading list.  I better get to work.

The year in books - March and April

I got a bit behind.  Slowed down a bit.  Changing your meds can do that to you.  You know, my thyroid meds.  You just don't understand how important that one little hormone is until you mess with it.  It's leveling out, and so am I.

I spent March and April working my way through Cassandra Clare's Infernal Devices Series.   Let me take this opportunity to just say Wow!  I liked the twists, turns, and the unexpected ending.  I mean, I hoped, but never dared to dream that she would see it through.  I'm now interested in starting the Immortal Instuments by the same author.  However, first we are taking a detour.

I've started reading Let's Pretend This Never Happened, by Jenny Lawson.  First let me tell you, I'm not one for memoirs.  Not since Erma Bombeck have I laughed this hard.  At times I am ashamed of laughing, because let's face it, it's not nice.  Other times, I'm howling, because I've been there.  Right there.  Turkeys and all.  I'm loving this book.  Maybe one day I'll get to meet Jenny, and we can stare at each other missing small talk and smiling.  She's brilliantly illuminating.  Thank you.

So, what else are you doing?

Has anyone ever asked you  this question?  I got hit with it a couple of months ago, and I'm still kicking it around.  Our director of nursing came by, and we were having a friendly conversation before the task we were working on.  She asked what I had been up to.  I told her that since we'd last spoken, I'd acquired three more grandchildren, renewed my advanced certification, finished my bachelor's of nursing, and published a book.  Presently, I am working on research in compassion, writing another sock knitting book, and exploring fiction writing.  My husband has formed a company, has published his first book, and is working on his next project as we speak.  She looked at me, nodding politely, and asked "So, what else are you doing?"  'Enjoying life' was my response.

We've become far too focused on achieving; so much so that people now feel guilty for doing the little things to care for themselves.  We expect others to make decisions, make us healthy, cook our meals.  It's time to stop.  There is nothing wrong with a bit of determination and drive.   Just don't drive yourself crazy.

For me, knitting a bit, writing a bit, and being happy are enough.  I don't need anything more.  I am happy doing what I am doing.  


There, I said it.

In the Actor's Studio - Lipton's Questions, My Answers

1.What is your favorite word? hope
2.What is your least favorite word? can't
3.What turns you on?  innovation
4.What turns you off?  hypocrisy
5.What sound or noise do you love?  lover's sigh
6.What sound or noise do you hate?  sirens
7.What is your favorite curse word? fuck
8.What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?  writer
9.What profession would you not like to do?  preschool teacher
10.If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?  Wow, you're not on our list, but I'm sure we can fit you in.  You'll be in the "open-to-interpretation" section.

How would you answer these questions?

My year in books - 2/21

This week I read Ravenous by Dayna Macy.  This book chronicles the author's quest to identify the source of her food issues, and find a healthy link to the act of eating.  It is well written and engaging.  It lead me to examine my own connection to food, and rethink old patterns.

My year in books

A personal goal this year is to read a book a week, in addition to the rest of my projects.    I'll try to remember to post the books I read here, along with a bit of a review of the book.

Jan 1 - Divergent by Veronica Roth

           Sometimes you choose, sometimes you are chosen.  Being able to tell the difference makes all the difference.  This book was fast paced and well written.  The world it is in is revealed gradually, as it is discovered by the main character. 

Jan 7 - Insurgent by Veronica Roth

           The second book in the series, this one kept up the pace.  Good subplots and excellent use of POV.  I was surprised by the direction it took.  I can hardly wait for the next installation.

Jan 14 - Hammered by Kevin Hearne

             I re-read this one to refresh my memory before setting off on the newest edition.  Kevin incorporates humor in a manner that is unexpected and refreshing. 

Jan 21 - Tricked by Kevin Hearne

              Again a re-read.  I just can't put a good book down.  This novella bridges the first series to the second, and provides context for Trapped.  It sets up the next book beautifully.

Jan 28 - Trapped by Kevin Hearne

              A wonderful romp with the gods of old.  Kevin brings them to life and lets them run pell-mell through your brain.

Feb 7 - Crewel by Gennifer Albin

            As a needleworker, this book appealed to me in a unique way.  Her imagery of the world as a tapestry presented an interesting approach to story telling.  This is the first in a series, and I am looking forward to the next installment.

Feb 14 - Outlining your Novel: Map Your Way To Success by KM Weiland

              This book presents outlining in a casual, yet structured manner, that should help any writer improve their work.  The author presents justification for taking the time to work an outline, and the rewards that come with persevering through the process. 

I am also working on the next sock knitting book.  This will be a book of men's sock patterns.  The working title is Ribbed for His Pleasure.  It will take a while, so be patient with me.  Thanks to NaNoWriMo the writing bug has also bitten.  There are several novels in planning stages, all racing toward the starting line.  I hope to participate in Camp NaNo in April.  If I survive that, we'll look at doing August.  I will not be doing November this year, because that is our anniversary  time and my guy wants to spend time with me.  Go figure.

So far, so good.  I have enjoyed all of these books. Back to the stacks...

To Whom It May Concern:

Dear Oh-so-talented writing guru,
Once again I have shelled out hard-earned cash for your book of fabulous wisdom about the craft of writing.  Please I beg you, choose a different story to use as your example.  We are sick and tired of reading the outline/hero's journey/plot exposition of Star Wars.  It's been done.  Try a different movie.  May I humbly suggest Vanity Fair, Harry Potter, Shawshank Redemption, or even Family Stone?  The point is, you could use this opportunity to encourage your reader to expand their reading and movie watching base by utilizing other pieces of the art as your example.  While Star Wars is easy, well known, and essentially ubiquitous, there are other works of fiction upon which to draw. 

Sincerely,
your frustrated reader

As things get more complicated...

So it's finally finished, edited, corrected, and proofed. Abundant Sole is available in full color print through Lulu.com, or as a download from Ravelry. As soon as I jump through the hoops and figure it all out, it will also be available on Amazon. I am also writing fiction. Nanowrimo is over, and I won!!!! What a process that turned out to be. Who knew authors were allowed to suck?!? Anyhow, that first draft is about to come out of hiding for a review and edit. Several more projects in the works. My favorite right now is Korsal's Revenge. I'll post more on that later, when I'm more comfortable with it. On the home front, my companion/editor/muse/publisher/husband is rapidly approaching the finish line on his project. The art for this project has been a nightmare. We finally found an artist we adored and could afford - 85% through the art and BAM! Life happens. He needs surgery and cannot draw. The Bear is revamping his layout, and thinks he will have it all done by the end of the month. February 1 is my target for his Lulu release, with Amazon about 6-8 weeks later. He's already looking ahead, and has started a dungeon module. It's good to see him with a focus after so much time. I haven't seen him this happy or content, despite the set backs, in years. It looks like I'll be heading to Tucson in late January or early February. My mom needs surgery, so I'll be caring for her for a couple of days. That really translates to lots of knitting time. And maybe some writing. And definitely grandkids. If I can swing the flights right I may be able to see my best friend from high school on the way, if I can get the layover I want. We'll see.

 Get a hard copy at Lulu.com  

 Get a digital download at Ravelry.com