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Someday soon I’ll have a coherent post

Nothing substantial to post today. It has been a scattered sort of day where I did not get much done that I intended to do. I don’t feel too bad about it since I got so much done on the other days of this week.

January is half gone. Part of me rejoices because anything that brings me closer to spring is good. Part of me wants life to slow down because a more relaxed pace might be more enjoyable. The holidays seem like ages ago and yet it has really only been two weeks. Weird how time stretches and contracts.

I just finished reading Goblin Quest to the kids. They really loved it. …

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Schlock Mercenary: The Body Politic is eligible for the Hugo award for Best Graphic Story

This year there is a special Hugo award category for “Best Graphic Story.” The section of the Schlock Mercenary serial that is eligible for this award is Schlock Mercenary: The Body Politic. We’ve created a pdf for anyone who wants to review The Body Politic before deciding on their nominations. The pdf is 35 mb and can be found here. Anyone who attended Denvention (Worldcon in 08) or who has a membership to Anticipation (Worldcon 09) is eligible to nominate works for the Hugo awards. You can print out a nominating ballot here. Or you can register your nominations online here. Remember your ballot has to be received before March 1 and it is going to Canada, so you won’t want to delay. You’ll also need your membership number either from Denvention or Anticipation. The membership number should be in the confirmation email you received when you registered.

When nominating, keep in mind the many other worthy works which are also eligible for this category. (Girl Genius Volume 8: Agatha Heterodyne and the Chapel of Bones by Phil and Kaja Foglio and Rapunzel’s Revenge by Shannon, Dean, and Nathan Hale, both spring to mind.) I hope that everyone who nominates for the Hugo awards only nominates those works they feel are truly worthy. We do not want to advocate any sort of ballot stuffing.

A hearty good luck to all my friends and acquaintances who have works eligible for Hugo awards. I hope you all do well.

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Brain dump

I store things in my brain, thoughts, memories, fragments of stories, topics for blogging, lists, schedules. Sometimes I accumulate too much and I need to dump it all somewhere so I can stop trying to keep it in the brain space that I need to use for working, writing, parenting. What follows is a dump of random things from my brain, many of which could have made excellent individual blog entries if my brain weren’t too cluttered for cohesive writing.

There are many advantages to being married to your business partner. There are disadvantages too. Howard and I have to work hard not to create stress feedback loops. This is particularly difficult at times such as now, when we’re in crunch mode to send the next book off for printing. As business manager my focus is on the needs of the project. As wife my focus is on the need of my husband. It gets tricky when the business manager places requirements on Howard that make him stressed. I end up feeling guilty for causing the stress even though I understand that the stress is necessary. Additionally, Howard’s moods affect mine and vice versa. We are as careful to keep frustrations clearly labeled as business related as we are to keep business and personal funds separate. This helps us keep our marriage happy even when the business is stressful.

Why do they put safety seals on bottles of bleach? I’m not talking about the Push Down Then Turn caps, of which I approve, but those little paper seals that you tear off to open the bottle. I’m honestly not really worried that someone might put something toxic into my bleach.

In the last couple of days I have: contacted the printer to start the process for the next book. Sent files to the guy who prints our posters, so we can get some new posters into the store. Decided that I need more time tweaking text before I’m ready to launch another picture book project. Quickly put together a pdf file of Schlock Mercenary: The Body Politic so that people can peruse it before deciding who to nominate for the Hugo award. (That will actually get its very own blog post once I have brainspace clear to do it.) Decided to delay some marketing activities until after we’ve sent OFU off for printing. Contacted various people about various business transactions and deals. Prepped OFU so that I can do copy editing. Neglected to do laundry. Managed to cook dinner from scratch because I’m trying not to spend money. Most of the preceeding took place after I spent most of Wednesday morning sleeping. It turns out that I’m much more capable and the world is much less bleak when I’ve actually had enough sleep.

It feels like my head has been full ever since school started up two weeks ago. I keep reading other people’s blog posts or comments and responding, but then I realize later that the response only exists in my brain. I never actually expressed the responses out loud. I suspect this is a function of limited energy.

And now it is time for me to pick up kids from school.

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Thoughts on a competition

My writer’s forum is hosting a five week long flash fiction contest. I decided to participate this year. The first of five stories was due this weekend and judged this week. I want to write a long post describing my process in creating the story. I also want to examine my emotional reactions to the feedback. Unfortunately I can’t, because one of the facets of the contest is that entries are under a pseudonym until the contest is complete. If I talk in detail about my experiences, I will likely give away which story is mine to other forum members who also read this blog. I do not know if I’ll be able to complete the contest because I have other commitments that are more important to me. I don’t know if I have it in me to write five complete stories in five weeks. I also don’t know if I have it in me to ride the emotional roller coaster for that long.
The stubborn, competitive part of me wants to prove to everyone that I can do it. As if completing the contest earns me cosmic writer points, proving to everyone (and mostly to me) that I’m a “real” writer. I also really want to write a story that earns the respect of these people whom I respect. But I don’t know that these are reasonable goals to set myself upon. I also know that I am tired. If I push my writing too hard it will burn me out. It is more important to me to write and complete a birthday story than for me to write four more pieces of flash fiction which will probably not win the approval I’m seeking anyway. And then there is the voice which asks why I am seeking exterior approval at all, isn’t my own satisfaction enough?

Sigh. Once again my brain is a noisy place.

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Accounting Day again

Note to self: When you are your own employer that “Christmas Bonus” will mean correspondingly lower funds available for business as usual. Also, when approving large purchases, keep in mind the other large purchases you previously approved, but for which the bills have not yet arrived.

We aren’t in financial trouble, but getting the next Schlock book out is more urgent than it was before December. This makes me sad because it means that Howard will be feeling pressured and stressed. I don’t like having my Howard pressured and stressed. I really need to be doing a better job of managing household resources. Lately I’ve been far too distracted by shiny projects. The projects are delightful and emotionally fulfilling But then tend to involve spending money and energy rather than acquiring it. Maybe it is time for me to scrounge around for stuff we don’t need and have an e-garage sale via ebay.

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Writing stuff

I think my writer brain is tired. Yesterday I wrote a complete short story for a contest. It was only 750 words, but there was revision involved. Then I did revision on the text for a picture book. Then I did some drafting for another picture book. Then I did some brain storming for another short story. I would really like to write something thoughful and profound for this blog, but apparently my writer brain needs a rest.

At least I downloaded all my LJ entries from last year using LJbook.com. Then I upload them to lulu.com and get them printed as a book. I’ve done this every year since I began blogging in 2004. It is interesting to me that the volume gets thicker every year. The volume for 2008 is over 400 pages long. Apparently I’m fully capable of producing the wordage necessary to a novel. Now I just need to figure out how to string all those words into a coherent fictional plot. Not this year’s project. I don’t have the mental space to tackle a novel this year. I have other projects waiting on me.

And that’s apparently it. I’ve been sitting here and waiting for more words, but they’re not coming. So I guess I’m done for the night.

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Link went camping

There comes a time in a boy’s life when his mother has to let go. This happens even if neither of them particularly want it. Link would happily stay curled up at home with all his comforting things and people nearby. Instead I sent him out camping in the snow with a group of boys who are mostly older and larger than he is. There were three leaders there, but no guarantees that they’ll extend any special attention or understanding to Link. I was so busy getting him prepared so he would not freeze or go hungry, that I had no spare thought to realize that this was his first night away from home without family nearby. It hit me at bedtime when his bed was empty. Then I felt like crying and I wanted to rush out and make sure that he was not scared or lonely.

But the thing is, I’d sent him with people I trust. I knew that he would come back home safely. I knew that he would not be abused or humiliated. I was giving him the chance to learn first hand that being a little scared and lonely are survivable miseries. I gave him the chance to discover that he is strong enough to manage these things by himself, that he does not need mom nearby to make it all better.

He came home. I was glad to see him. He was glad to see me. Then he ran off to play. From his descriptions, it sounds like he had fun. He also had nervous or scared moments. He was teased by older boys (friendly teasing) in a way that he didn’t much like, but he handled it. We talked it through and he feels good about the experience. Link is getting so big. He is putting on the mass that will fuel the growth spurt in the next couple of years. His days as a little boy are soon to be over. I’ve loved him and helped him and sheltered him. Now I need to love him enough to stand back and let him grow on his own.

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Some days I miss all the clues

Gleek trudged to the car, the very picture of forlorn sadness. She scraped each foot across the snow slowly, shoulders slumped, mouth turned down.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as she climbed in.
She did not answer. I put the car into gear and drove toward home. Link still needed to pack for a scout snowy camp out. We had already waited a long time for Gleek to arrive at the car. I did not want to spend more time in the parking lot trying to coax Gleek into talking. Instead I launched into a described outline of the afternoon schedule. This included packing for Link and piano lessons for Gleek.

Gleek objected immediately. She was not ready for piano lessons. She had not practiced. She did not want to go. I though this was probably the cause of the sadness. We scrambled through the piano lessons and the packing. When the chaos was done, we headed through the back yard for an afternoon with friends. Gleek and her friend got to watch a movie. Patch and his friend got to play Bionicles. My friend and I got to talk for hours. It was fun for everyone. But several times Gleek got shrieking mad with other people over very small issues. I was focused on relaxing and talking. I helped resolve each incident as it occurred, but gave no thought to the fact that Gleek was acting over the top, even by her standards.

Then at the very end of the evening, as we were preparing to leave, I was standing right next to Gleek when she shoved her friend and declared something to the effect of: “I’m not your friend anymore. I’ll never play with you again.” My rebuke was at a fairly high volume “Gleek! You don’t treat people that way!” Then I carried her upstairs to discuss before the necessary apology.

This is when I learned that Gleek had lost her bracelet, the one she had made herself. She lost it at school right at the end. Then she was scolded for crying loudly in the hallways. I am not yet ready to second guess the scolding. I am certain that Gleek’s grief was quite loud and very disruptive to the kids who were still studying. I’ll have to ask about the incident further to decide what, if anything, needs addressing.

Gleek carried the sadness of the lost bracelet all afternoon. She also carried shame from making a fuss and being scolded. She also carried anger that I had not tied the bracelet tighter. Those emotions roiled inside her and put her on a hair trigger. Then each incident with friends added to the anger and shame as each incident convinced Gleek even more thoroughly that she is a naughty girl who will never be able to behave herself.

I was too busy to see it. I was busy with good things, but that does not change the fact that I did not see Gleek’s emotional need until it exploded. I am often busy. I like being busy. But because I am busy, I sometimes miss things I could have caught. This is not me scolding myself or holding myself accountable. It is not possible for any human being to catch every warning sign of every trouble. I would go crazy if I tried. All I can do is try to pay attention and act on the things I do see when I see them.

Gleek and I had a good talk. Apologies were made. Emotions have been vented. Gleek will probably be more at peace with herself tomorrow. Hopefully this incident will add to the store of knowledge Gleek needs in order to moderate herself and play well with others. It is just hard to watch her having to learn lessons for herself when I already know the answers.

Some days I miss all the clues Read More »

When seconds count

It had been a normal school morning, kids dawdling and my commands increasingly grouchy. I’d reached the point where Patch, Gleek, and Kiki were all in the car. Link was putting on his coat and I decided to take a second to throw some salt on the icy patch I’d slid on twice. I was in the garage when the screaming started. Parental ears are very good at picking out the different flavors of childhood screams, but like recognizing a voice on the phone, it takes a moment to figure out what you’re hearing. This was full-on shrieking panic from both Gleek and Kiki.

Time stretches in a crisis. In the next 10 seconds I:
Realized that although they were right next to me, they were on the other side of the closed garage door. The fastest route to get there was back through the house.
Wondered who I was going to need to scold because obviously someone had picked on another child.
Wondered if someone had somehow gotten smashed in a door or tangled in a seat belt.
Was met halfway through the house by Gleek shrieking that Patch was choking.
Ran out the front door.
I shouted “What’s wrong?!” uselessly.
Wondered how on earth Patch was choking and what he could possibly be choking on.
Realized that I was still holding the cup of salt.
Realized I was going to need both hands free.
Threw the salt at the icy patch as I ran past.
Tried to find the right balance between speed and not falling on my face.
Reached the car to find Patch and Kiki both crying in panic.

Patch was crying. This meant he could breathe. No heimlich necessary.

The next 5 minutes were spent attending primarily to Patch. He’d accidentally swallowed a hard candy (that I’d no idea he was even eating) and it got lodged in his throat. He panicked, which caused Kiki and Gleek to panic. Kiki had him half out of his seatbelt, ready to give him the heimlich, but she was afraid of hurting him and was not certain how to do it. The candy went down, but not before Patch gagged and threw up on himself. I took all the kids back into the house. The older three stood by while I helped Patch calm down and change clothes. As I was helping Patch, I also talked all the kids through the experience.
I told them that if someone is crying while they choke, that is good news because it means the choker can breathe.
I told them that the heimlich is most effective on cases where breathing is blocked completely.
I told them they had all done exactly right. I thanked Gleek for running to get me. I thanked Kiki for staying with Patch.
I explained about hard candies and why they’re not a good idea for small children.

Then I handed Patch off to Howard. Patch gets to miss school today. He was still too shaken to deal with going. The other three I took to school. We could spend all morning talking and debriefing and decompressing, but that would merely cement this in the kids’ minds as a Huge Traumatic Event. Much better for them if we just deal with the crisis, pass on useful information, and then continue as normal. That is part of Mommy crisis management. I always tamp down my emotional reactions until they won’t increase the upset of the kids. My tears came after the kids were all dropped at school and after I’d come home to find Patch sitting happily next to Howard and playing. That is when I take my time to cry a little and think all of those “what if” thoughts and say a prayer of gratitude that the crisis was minor.

I’m not sure when I learned to shunt my emotions aside as part of crisis management. It is a skill I’m grateful for. Learning to stop and feel those emotions later has been harder to learn. It seems a little silly to collapse after the crisis is over and everyone is already safe. But I guess I’m like Grandpa Smedry in the Alcatraz books. I arrive late to the emotional reaction, but I can’t skip it entirely.

Everyone is fine. And I am grateful for that.

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The brain squirrel keeps running

It feels like my brain has been in overdrive since Monday morning. On Monday I was very focused and got lots done. Tuesday my brain was still running very fast, but it was scattered all over the place. I did some stuff, but it was all scattershot everywhere. Today has been a mix of the two. I’m still having hundreds of thoughts per hour, but in the afternoon I was able to focus and get a project done. Unfortunately I hyper-focused and only came up for air when I realized it was past dinner time. Fortunately we had sufficient leftovers in our fridge, so the kids and I had potluck. Now I need to figure out how to make my brain stop so I can sleep.

The brain squirrel keeps running Read More »