Sorry for Ghosting on Y’all

Some things that happened over the last couple of months:

We had an unexpected houseguest who stayed with us for a month and some change.

My dogs consequently developed the delightful habit of baying almost constantly at any hint of someone walking by the house, instead of just barking their heads off at the odd squirrel or package delivery. It was not great for my nerves.

I adopted a little rabbit in need. His name is Frodo. He has some special needs that he’ll hopefully grow out of, so I occasionally get to stay up until 4am nursing him. It’s okay, though. He gives me cute bunny kisses to make up for it.

Some of the African violets my friend gave me finally bloomed for the first time, and they were lovely. For a couple of days.

Frodo ate all the flowers off of the African violets, dug up a fern, and then decimated my windowbox basil, making himself temporarily ill and living up to his hobbit name.

The beautiful fish pond that came with our house quit working for real and several solid weekends of work haven’t managed to get it up and running yet. Our fish are not happy about this, but the mosquitos are.

An unexplained fly invasion of almost biblical proportions. The lizard and our small, bouncy dog enjoyed this more than I did.

Several meltdowns on my part, or possibly one slow and prolonged meltdown that lasted for about a month and some change.

I eventually stopped banging my head against a brick wall in my Somnolence manuscript and decided to work on something lighter for a while, so I’m currently writing the second draft of a young adult book that’s been waiting in my project list for years. It is cute and it has dragons. Jumping between projects usually isn’t recommended, but if it’s between less than ideal practice and another month of being too stressed and up in my own head to actually get words on the page, I’ll take it. Some words written, even on what’s technically the wrong project, are infinitely better than no words written at all.

I learned how to make pizza without garlic or dairy, so my husband and I can both eat it, and it is really awesome.

I completely reworked my scheduling practices and managed to wrench my sleeping patterns back to mostly normal and almost enough rest each night.

I got a couple of very cute pink plants today, partially as a reward to myself for pulling my shit back together after letting myself get pretty thoroughly derailed, and partially as a bribe to myself to get back into writing blog posts even though it’s embarrassing to have just vanished for two months. So, I’m back now.

ADHD Willpower Drain

There’s a theory that every choice we make in a day uses up a portion of our supply of willpower. It gets replenished while we sleep, and drained over the course of the day the more decisions we have to make. That’s part of why habits and routines are so helpful, if you can form them, because ideally they each take one or more choices out of the day by making those actions automatic.

I think that that kind of incremental willpower drain is extra hard on people with ADHD, because every time my brain goes “I wonder how hard it would be to build a miniature beach in an aquarium complete with real tiny fish and crustaceans” I have to use a little bit of energy to stop myself from immediately googling the best sources for Thai micro crabs and corkscrew vallisneria. I have to use some willpower every time I think of a cool thing to draw, which happens multiple times a day. I have to use it to decide that I’ll go out in the garden later because I’m currently writing my blog post. And then I have to decide that again fifteen minutes later when the dogs get excited and bark at a squirrel outside the window. And again when I hear the birds outside on our bird feeder. And again when I remember that I meant to move our tomato seedlings back inside so they won’t get sunburned.

Eventually, I usually get derailed. Maybe it’s because I just run out of willpower juice after ignoring every random suggestion my brain makes while I’m trying to just do one damn thing at a time.

I have no proposed solution at the moment. I’ve just been observing how many times a day I have to decide not to do a random thing and how tired that eventually makes me feel. It also, unfortunately, makes me sort of averse to doing creative stuff on a whim even when I do have the free time for it. I get into the habit of telling myself I’ll do that stuff later, even when I totally could just do it now.

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One of the trees in my yard that unexpectedly makes flowers. They are white and pretty and I have no idea what kind they are.
Little white tree flowers on the deck. They’ve been falling like snow, in part because the local birds seem to find them delicious. It’s pretty, but they stick to your shoes if you walk around on them.

Balancing Creative Attachment

I’ve been struggling with some mounting anxiety about writing choices lately. I tend to get into worry spirals about my plot decisions and characters and how different people I know, and lots of people I don’t know, might react to them. Sometimes I can cope with creative anxiety by emotionally pulling back from my work, especially when processing professional feedback, but I think I’ve actually done that too much. I’ve kind of lost track of my affection for Orane and my emotional involvement in her journey. Some distance is definitely good, because a writer who is afraid to make bad things happen to their good people is generally not going to tell a very compelling story.

On the other hand, though, staying that emotionally detached from the story has left me much more subject to the pressure of other people’s opinions. I can’t really feel comfortable with any of my choices because I’m not trusting my own judgement and creative intuition anymore. There’s no point writing a book entirely driven by what I think other people might think. There’s nothing wrong with writing to a particular market, but that’s not my goal at the moment and it’s definitely not what I’ve been doing. I’ve just been scared of judgement. My instinct is to escape the judgement by not writing anything anyone could possibly judge, but that really means not writing anything at all.

That anxiety reached an unpleasant peak this week, where I couldn’t even think about my work without my head just filling up with a whirlpool of worries. I literally can’t function under that much external influence, since every single thing will ultimately be judged negatively by some people and positively by others. There’s no way to please everyone, so for now I’m trying to focus inward and reconnect with my own judgement and creative preferences.

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Image: A pussy willow in late afternoon sunlight.

Writing days this past week: 1

It’s So Cold

And I’m still mostly fine, strangely enough. I was kind of snowed/iced in on the hill by myself for most of the weekend, but it wasn’t too bad. I kept warm, cuddled my dogs, and focused on writing and other indoor projects. I am getting a little sick of being cooped up, though, and there’s another cold front heading for us, so that might be a little frustrating. I’m just gonna try to make the most of it.

I have gotten outside a little bit for walks the last couple days, but I’m thinking I need to find a treadmill for our basement, because I don’t want to let the weather make me quit that routine and I really am a complete wimp about the cold. My nose and hands start to hurt after about a minute of being out there right now, but I am determined to keep up the activity as much as I can because it helps so much with my focus and mood. Some days that means just chasing the dogs around the house and running up and down the stairs, but whatever works.

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I really love my office. Image: Some orchids and succulents on a windowsill, with snowy trees outside.

Writing days this past week: 5

Building Stability

It’s been a busy week. I managed to get a few pretty pictures to share, but otherwise I’ve mostly been focused on writing and personal tasks. I finally got my ADHD medication situation sorted out last week, so I feel like I’m able to focus much more effectively, and at the right times. I’m still learning how to utilize it best, but it’s a huge relief.

I’m also sleeping better, and I think the medication is helping with that as well. As long as I don’t take it too late in the day, it helps me stay productive and active at the right times, which means I’m actually tired at night and not just stressed about all the things I should have done. It’s a very nice change. Keeping up with my meditation every day also helps with stress and sleep, so I’m still doing that regularly, as well as making sure I get out for walks several times a week. I’d like to be doing more walking, but still haven’t figured out how to not have it eat up a huge chunk of my productive time during the day, since it quickly gets too dark out for me to walk alone in the evenings. I seriously can’t wait for summer, or at least spring.

I did get to enjoy the beautiful fully eclipsed moon on Sunday night, but sadly it is far beyond my skill level to get decent photos of celestial bodies on a smartphone, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. It was very cool, though.

Anyway, I’m going to get back to the editing for a bit longer and then go chill with my dog who is currently very mad that I’m still at my desk. I hope everyone has a good weekend coming up. Mine looks like it’s gonna be pretty quiet and focused, hopefully with at least one nice long walk in there somewhere.

Image: A crow looking down from a bare oak tree against a gray sky.
Image: A hummingbird sitting in a mostly bare crabapple tree, silhouetted against a gray sky.

Writing days this past week: 4

It’s Okay Not to Love Books

I love books. I love writing and reading. I feel that books have helped me immensely throughout my life, and I think it’s okay not to read. It’s okay to not feel any particular attachment to books. It’s okay to like reading, but to prefer digital formats to physical books. It is not just okay, but probably wise, to donate or throw away books that don’t make you happy. Your space doesn’t need to look like a library unless that makes you feel good. If it does, that’s also fine.

It’s kinda not fine, though, to pitch a fit over the idea of anyone else not valuing books the way you do. For some people, they’re just objects. That’s fine. They are just objects. The value of any object is personal and subjective, and it may change over time.

The anger over Marie Kondo’s (misquoted and out of context) suggestion that people keep less than thirty books in their homes is worrying for a lot of reasons.

First of all, it’s untrue. She says you should keep whatever makes you happy. If books make you happy, she’d encourage you to proudly display and enjoy them, not convince you to throw them away. Stop bitching at this nice woman who just wants to help people tidy their houses. It’s her thing, just like books are your thing. She isn’t coming to take anything from you, and she doesn’t want to.

It also shows that a lot of avid readers and writers haven’t considered that there are plenty of totally valid reasons why people might not feel the same way they do about books. A number of disabilities, including dyslexia and ADHD, can make it extremely difficult to read, or to sit still long enough to enjoy a book. Some people literally cannot form images in their heads as they read, so pages full of text hold little appeal for them. Some never had access to books growing up and didn’t develop that love. Other people just have dominant interests that don’t lend themselves well to sitting quietly and reading. Not everything is best absorbed in that format, and not everyone learns easily from the written word.

Finally, the actual force of it is driven by classism and ableism, among other things. Yes, a lot of people only share those posts because it’s kinda funny to imagine themselves cutting down on something that obviously means so much to them, but a lot of other people have shown genuine disgust and anger at the idea of not having a library’s worth of knowledge in their living rooms. There’s this deep belief, often instilled when we’re kids, that reading a lot and having as many books as possible makes us smarter, and therefor better, than our peers. This can become part of our identities as readers. It’s been a part of mine, and I didn’t realize how much that was driven by certain social biases until fairly recently. I’m still learning to untangle it.

Sure, it’s fine to sleep on a pile of books every night like a dragon, but that really does not mean you’re better than anyone else. It doesn’t mean you’re smarter than anyone else. More than anything else, it probably means that you may have some common interests with other avid readers. Which is a great thing, but it’s not for everyone, and it doesn’t have to be.

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Some cute brown mushrooms on a mossy log that I found on my last road trip.

Writing days this past week: 0

Fire’s Comfy Magic

Well, this Halloween was our first in this neighborhood, and I learned that we don’t have very many kids around. Three very cute and well-disguised children showed up and took a few candies each, and then… Nothin’. Nobody else. So, I have a giant purple bowl with a cute spider on it that is still filled to the brim with candy. Oh, well. Such is my dreadful fate.

I am a little bummed that so few people got to admire my candle display on the waterfall, though. It wasn’t particularly impressive, but it was sparkly, and I enjoyed putting them out. I’m definitely gonna do more of that next year. I even used scented candles, because I have a lot of them, so the yard also smelled pretty. You’re welcome, neighbors.

Even though we didn’t get much traffic (or maybe partly because of that) it was super nice to just sit by the kitchen window and write with the pretty flickering candles outside in the garden. A little atmosphere never hurts when trying to get the creative juices flowing, and the sight of flames glowing in the night definitely has a certain emotional power to it. A lot of power, actually. Even a very tame bit of fire can transform an environment completely.

One thing I love about being at my boyfriend’s place is that he almost always has a candle burning, and that small flame instantly makes the space feel warm and welcoming and extra special, like it’s secluded from the outside world. Fire is comforting in a sort of primitive and instinctive way, and as someone who absolutely hates the cold, I can’t help loving all the homely little forms of fire. I used to toast marshmallows and read Nancy Drew books by the light of my grandparents’ hearth as a kid, and occasionally my grandpa would let me jab the glowing logs with a huge iron poker that was probably not entirely safe in my rather excitable hands.┬áThe only thing I was a tiny bit disappointed about in our new house, even though it’s a wonderful place, is that it doesn’t have a fireplace to read and write by.

It does have space for as many candles as I could possibly want, though, and I need to remember to pull some out the next time I’m feeling creatively stuck. The only way out of writer’s block is to write, but there’s nothing wrong with setting the mood while you do it.

You can’t tell from the photo, but the moving water reflected the light, and it looked way cool.

Writing days this past week: 2